by Simmons, NC
“NO, Lena! I already know what it feels like when you spank me that way! This must be different! I must know how this feels! Just unhook me, let me flip over, chain me again, and then spank me! They let me do it to them up at the estate, now I want to know how it feels. We had so much fun with the wine bottle, Wild Child! Let’s have fun doing this!”
Speaking from never-to-be-forgotten experience, the Wild Child balked. “Lenore… You have no idea what you’re asking me to do. It's no fun to get beat up, baby. Trust me.”
“But Lena, I am not asking you to beat me up! I am asking you to spank me. Just a little bit. That is not so bad, is it?”
The Wild Child leaned against the dresser and rocked, keeping her distance from the Ivy League roommate who seemed to have lost her ever-fucking mind. The scent of freshly copulated cunny floated across the room, slithering upward into Lena’s nostrils, nudging its way past her better judgment. Lena shivered. Her denial wavered. A sick feeling in the pit of her stomach battled against a feeling of heat in her pussy as she remembered how exciting it was to shove toys into the manacled model’s muff.
“But what if it gets out of hand, Freaky? What if I do hurt you? I couldn’t live with myself.”
“Oh, stop being such a baby! You will not hurt me. I will not let you. I will stop you if you hurt me. We have been fine so far, right?”
“’Fine?’ You call enjoying me pulling your arms from the sockets and shoving inanimate objects up your pussy, ‘fine’?”
“I just want to be on the record, Lenore. This is a very bad idea.”
“But will you do it?”
Lena hesitated, then moved slowly in the direction of the bed. “I’ll do it. I won’t like it, but I’ll do it.”
“THANK YOU, LENA! I LOVE YOU!”
Lena loosened the ratchets and unhooked the chains from Lenore’s shackles. Lenore flipped over and spread her arms and legs, exposing her beautiful, naked, fully-insured ass to the Wild Child. Lena reconnected the chains and ratcheted, one click per limb, rotating around the bed, spreading Lenore slowly, more painfully, her limbs bending backward in ways not intended for the human body.
“Lenore, I am NOT going to pull any more. I don’t give a damn what you think, this could seriously injure you if I leave you dangling upside down by your arms and legs.”
Lenore grunted and groaned, agreeing to a little more slack and a little less anguish. “Ohhh… I agree, Lena. This is enough. No more. Now… Spank me.”
Nausea washed over Lena. “C’mon, Lenore. I really can’t do this. I feel sick about this already.”
“Lena. You promised me! You said you would do it!”
“Oh God, Lenore. This is a horrible idea.”
“Just spank me! I told you. I will not let you hurt me. I will stop you.”
“Okay… Okay… Here goes.”
Lena came down on Lenore’s ass with a light, glancing slap.
“Oh come on, Lena! You can do better than that! I want to feel it!”
Lena hit her other cheek, with more force, but still without much rebound.
“What was that? You think that was a spank? Again!”
Lena whacked Lenore, putting her elbow into the swing. Lenore winced.
“OW! Okay… That was better. Again! Harder!”
Another spank. A bigger, redder welt. More rebound. Lenore gasped.
“WOW! That was… Ohhhh… That was fantastic! Again!”
“Lenore, c’mon baby! Not again! You got your chance to feel it. Let’s stop before someone gets hurt!”
“Again, damn it! I didn’t tell you to stop, so don’t stop! Faster! Harder!”
“Oh Christ… She’s back to the contractions.”
“God, Lenore... This is not good. This doesn’t feel right…”
Reluctantly, Lena climbed up on the bed between Lenore’s legs to better position herself for a speed round of glancing, minimal-pain spanks on Lenore’s glutes. She unleashed a rapid-fire series of interlacing slaps, a little firmer, fulfilling Lenore's strange need for Lena to be a major pain in her ass.
Lenore struggled, whimpering during Lena’s attack. “Ohhh… Ohhh… Again! Harder! Faster!”
“Lenore…” Lena cried, “I can’t. I'm hurting you, You should see what your ass looks like. It’s all red and sore, Freaky. You promised me you wouldn’t let me hurt you.”
“I said spank me again, God damn it! I’ll tell you when it hurts enough to stop! You aren’t the one getting spanked, so don't tell me when I have had enough! Again!”
Lena came down harder, her hand bouncing upward off Lenore’s inflamed right cheek. Lenore cringed and cried, pressing her face into the mattress. Lena saw Lenore’s reaction and stopped.
“What? Lena! Why did you stop? I said AGAIN, damn it! AGAIN! Do it AGAIN!”
“I can’t, Freaky! I’m hurting you. I can see it. I can feel it. My hands hurt. I can’t do this anymore.”
Lena bowed her head and cried. Her tears dropped to Lenore’s tenderized flesh. With each heartbroken… apologetic… drop... Lenore’s blood boiled. The primal scent of Lena’s weakness filled the runway cat’s nostrils. Lenore wanted punishment. Lenore demanded punishment. Lena failed to deliver as promised.
A fissure ruptured in Lenore’s molten core, a vicious, venomous mother-load of skillful manipulation buried fathoms deep inside a front-page-perfect life. Lenore’s tone abruptly shifted from demanding and directive to bitter and biting. Her words dripped with poisonous intent and cold-blooded accuracy, tapping her intimate knowledge of the Wild Child’s latent terrors.
“Listen to me, you fucking whore! I told you to spank me and all you did was give me sweet, little slaps. My ass is ready and I want you to spank me! …Or are you afraid your pathetic arm isn’t up to the challenge, eh sweetie? Is your weak, laughable forehand failing you again, my poor little has-been?”
Lena seethed, a blood red curtain draping her eyes. “Don’t, Lenore. Don’t do that. That isn’t funny…”
“Ohhh, I’m so sorry, Wild Child. I didn’t realize you were fine with your pathetic fucking forehand! That’s what you are, poor baby. You’re pathetic!”
Within the Wild Child’s chest, Lenore’s vulgar offense seeded inglorious intent. Lena fought off the urge to ratchet the chains, dismembering her helpless honey, teaching the psychotic bitch not to fuck with the Wild Child.
“Don’t, Lenore. C’mon. This isn’t funny, Freaky.”
“Oh, look at her. Poor, little Lena Sardi. She never could beat Chrissy, could she? How sad! You couldn’t beat shit because you quit! You gave up! You curled up and quit when you got behind, didn’t you? The poor, little Wild Child quit! Poor baby, she’s soooo tired. The Czech has her running all over the court. Her serve is too much for the poor, little Wild Child. Ohhh… Poor, little, has-been tennis player…
“You fucking quit, Lena!”
“Please, Lenore… Please stop! This really hurts, Lenore! This isn’t funny!”
“You think this hurts? How can it hurt? You can’t even spank my pretty little ass, your arm is so fucking weak! You can’t even muster the strength to make your pathetic arm spank my sexy ass! How the hell are you hurting?”
Lena’s breathing became labored, long, slow, and shallow. She desperately urged away “The Beast,” the world-dominating temper she used to competitive effect on the court but never released on those she loved.
“Lenore… Don’t do this! Don’t do this to me, you bitch!”
“Why? Because I’m telling you the goddamn, fucking truth? Because you know you can’t win a goddamn major because of your miserable, pathetic body?”
Lena pressed her hands to her ears and clenched her eyes. “Stop, Lenore! Please! I’m begging you! I can’t take this!”
“‘Hit it to her right, she’ll never get it!’ I heard that coach say it on TV! ‘Go ahead… hit it to her right! Make her slide right! She’ll never return it! She’s done! At twenty six Lena Sardi is a has-been! Lena Sardi will never win ano
ther fucking title because her fucking swing is shit!”
Fists clenched, Lena groaned and cried. She raised her hands high above Lenore’s body, grappling with festering insecurities, mired in runaway hatred toward the woman she loved more than life itself.
“LENORE, GOD DAMN YOU! Don’t do this to me… You don’t mean this, Lenore… Please say you don’t mean any of this! Please tell me you love me and you don’t mean this! PLEASE, LENORE!”
Mrs. Hyde poked a sharpened stick into The Beast’s cage. “You think I don’t mean this? You think I don’t mean it when I say I’m sleeping with a fucking has-been? You think I don’t mean it when I say that I am embarrassed because I am in bed every night fucking a woman who has all the natural talent in the world but can’t win a goddamn major? You don’t think I mean it when I say that your pathetic fucking forehand can’t hurt my perfect little ass?
“YOU… ARE… PATHETIC, LENA! I AM ASHAMED TO BE YOUR LOVER!”
Lena screamed, her body arching backward, her forehand and backhand coiled for a devastating return of Lenore’s grotesque volley. The Beast exploded through the bars of its weakened cage.
“FUCK YOU, LENORE! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!”
Lena came down in a brutal flurry on Lenore’s ass, fists clenched, tenderizing Lenore’s flesh, her internationally-ranked anatomy releasing unchained fury upon the supermodel’s body. Lena shrieked profanity during the beating, swinging wildly with her hands both open and clenched. For an eternity of seconds the athlete battered and bruised her captive roommate’s haunches.
Underneath, Lenore buried her face into the mattress and screamed. “Yes! Yes! Punish me! Punish me! I deserve to be punished! I am a bad little girl! Whip me! Punish me!”
In her rage, Lena missed the subtle hint of Lenore’s gifted, unhinging mind taking a stroll to the outer boundaries of sanity. Lena spanked, slapped, punched, and subdued Lenore’s restrained body with a rapid-fire series of championship-quality forehand slams, backhand slashes, and two-fisted smashes. She hunched forward over Lenore’s back and came down with both fists upon Lenore’s back-bent shoulders. A blood-curdling scream exploded from Lenore’s throat as muscles and tendons and rotator cuffs stretched to their limits.
“I HATE YOU, LENORE! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU, GOD DAMN IT! How could you do this to me? Goddamn you! Why are you doing this to me? Why, Lenore?”
“Because I deserve this! I must be punished! Punish me! Castigarme! Oh Dios, SI! SI! Merezco esto! Lo siento mucho, Papá! SI! SI! Merezco azotes, Papa! SI! Merezco azotes! Castigarme, Papá! Te quiero, Papá!”
Mid swing, Lena froze, her eyes widening in horror.
“Oh God… Oh God, no… Papa? PAPA?! OH GOD! GOD, NO! NO! NO, GOD! NO!”
Lena shook, staring down at her white knuckled fists, slowly turning them over to unclench and peer inside. Welted palms awaited her gaze. A pronounced rivulet of blood flowed from a puncture where the nail of her left index finger sliced its way through the meat of her palm during a violent impact with Lenore’s body.
“NO! NO! NO! NO! OH GOD! WHAT AM I DOING?”
Through hazy, tear-drenched eyes, Lena focused on Lenore’s ass and back. The freaky supermodel’s glutes reflected the early signs of trauma, a greenish-blue tint spreading from olive cheek to olive cheek. On Lenore's lower back, Lena saw the distinct outline of her knuckles in a dark, red imprint just to the right of Lenore’s spine.
“Don’t stop! Punish me! I deserve to be punished! I hurt you! Don’t you want to punish me? Don’t you want to get even with me? I must be punished for what I did to you!”
The Wild Child breathed in fits, drawing in deeply only to gasp uncontrollably, lurching toward hyperventilation. Her eyes darted wildly around the room as it swirled. The walls undulated menacingly. Lena cowered, imagining the ceiling crumbling and falling upon the two tortured lovers, trapping them on a bed always saved for the most delightful encounters. Looking down at Lenore’s besieged body, Lena witnessed the bludgeoned recipient of a professional athlete’s unrestrained rage.
Wild-eyed with terror, Lena hallucinated. A thousand splintery projectiles exploded through the walls, strafing her naked body. She threw her arms over her head, shielding her face from imagined shrapnel.
“I said punish me, God damn it! DO IT! Why are you stopping? Punish me!”
“My God! What have I done to my baby? God, what have I done?”
Lena toppled sideways to the mattress. Gaining momentum, Lena tumbled downward to the floor, frantic to distance The Beast from its hapless victim. Landing with the sound of a wincing “POP!” in her left shoulder, Lena flipped to her back on the floor beside the bed. She clawed at her chest, suffocating, gasping for breath. “I didn’t know! Oh, God! I didn’t know! I’m so sorry! I didn’t know!”
Sobbing hysterically, the Wildest Child rolled back to her stomach and struggled to escape the hellish blackness of the bed. She crawled, choking and coughing on phlegmy sobs, dragging herself to safety. Wedging herself into the furthest corner of the room, Lena balled up into a narrow, chair-width crevice between her dresser and the wall and pulled her knees tightly under her arms. She wailed with apology.
“Oh God! Forgive me! FORGIVE ME! I’m so sorry, Lenore! I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! I never wanted to hurt you, Freaky! I’m so sorry, Lenore…!”
On the bed, Lenore pursued her quest for punishment, no longer screaming though no less insistent. She worked from a toolkit of suppressed, demonic instincts, supermodel seduction in full effect. Lenore hopelessly sought Lena’s continued attack with pornographic suggestiveness and luring sensuality.
“Come back, lover! I’ll eat your pretty little pussy if you just give me a little spank or two. Let me eat your pussy, Wild Child! Please! Come back to me! I promise! I will make you come!”
With ‘The Beast’ temporarily cornered against the wall, Lena fought to regain ownership of her usually-sane mind. She loathed herself for dropping her guard against Lenore’s plainly demented state, pounding the wall and dresser in frustration. Lena faced harsher attacks from other players and coaches many times over without loosing The Beast. Hearing such taunts come from her lover, though…
The tennis player windmilled with her left arm and slammed her fist into the wall, breaking through to connect with the sheetrock on the other side. A glancing blow on the edge of a wooden stud sliced open the knuckle of her left index finger.
Lena cocked her head and stared at Lenore. Her eyes darkened as Mrs. Hyde’s words filtered through the cracks in Lena’s battered heart.
“Ashamed? She’s fucking ashamed of me? Ashamed to be my lover? Ashamed of the woman who had her sexy, multi-million-dollar ass on 7 million walls? Ashamed of the woman who beat her fucking ass at Harvard? Ashamed of the woman who beats her on the revenue line and beats her bank account and beats her in every measure of success that ever counted? Ashamed of the woman she thought was fucking hot enough to seduce?”
Poor Lenore’s unpredictable melt-downs had to stop. Lenore had to be stopped for everybody’s sake. As Lena glared at Lenore, The Beast offered a timely suggestion.
“It’s time to kill the fucking bitch.”
Thirty Four
Lena turned toward the bed, inching out of her self-imposed cage. She settled on her hands and knees, eying Lenore, a jungle cat measuring her prey, preparing to pounce on the bed and finish the beat-down.
There were plans to be made. After all, she couldn’t just get rid of a famous bitch like Lenore without a little forethought. The weapon was the easy part. A boning knife would do the trick. With one, swift plunge into the back of Lenore’s neck — just at the base of the skull — it would all be over. If she did the job just right and missed the carotid artery, there wouldn’t even be much blood. She would slip the shower curtain under Lenore first, that way she could salvage the mattress, if not the sheets.
Damn! Lena loved those sheets. Ah well. What the hell. She could always replace the sheets.
The important thing was
that poor, pathetic Lenore would finally be free of her demons. Lena had the money and connections to make the body disappear, to make herself disappear, to become yet another unsolved mystery.
Yes, putting Lenore down would be the ‘merciful’ thing to do. Like putting a sick animal out of its misery. Killing Lenore would save everyone the trouble of putting Humpty-girl’s fractured mind back together after yet another crack-up.
Killing her beautiful, loving Freaky Baby would…
Lena shrieked.
“HOLY SHIT! WHAT AM I DOING? STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT, STOP IT, STOP IT!”
Lena slapped her face. She slapped it again and again. She dove back into the safety of the corner and pounded the dresser with her fists. “STOP IT, God damn it! Stop! Don’t move! Don’t you go near her! You have to protect her! You love her! She didn’t know what she was doing! Don’t go near her! Protect her!”
Lena gripped her legs again and pressed her face into her knees. A stream of sorrow flowed freely down her shins.
Tapping into more than a decade of endless, head-shrinking, sports psychobabble, Lena focused on loving encounters and pleasant sensations to rekindle fond memories of Lenore’s eight years of selfless care. Wrestling The Beast into submission and shoving it back to its cage, Lena fought desperately to lock away her pain.
She closed her eyes and imagined herself as a trapped free-climber, standing on a narrow ledge against a sheer, rock face with her toes and fingers dug into eroding crevices, her life one slip from disaster. Just above, someone dropped down a rope with a body-sized loop at the end, shouting, “Wrap this around you! I will pull you up!”
Lena forced herself to envision Lenore’s beautiful face looking down at her, smiling in hopeful love. The pinned climber grabbed the rope with one hand, slipping it over her head, under her arm, and across her chest. Would Mrs. Hyde’s burning daggers replace Lenore's loving, amber-brown Spanish eyes? Or would Freaky Baby drag the Wild Child all the way to safety?
In her fantasy Lena forced herself to trust, to believe the best, to remember all the times she cuddled at night with her tender, adoring, freaky roommate. She remembered rose petals on bedspreads, White Linen scented bodies, and relaxing, snuggling baths in a quiet, candlelit bathroom.