What skill the woman with the cat displayed as she sent the leather tails hissing around Mary’s sides to land the slightest of kisses on her breasts! Slight, yet intensely painful, owing to the high velocity imparted to the tails. Everybody in the room, with one exception, admired such finesse, so complete a mastery of technique. There followed seven heavy and shocking blows to Mary’s arse. Wriggling and weeping, howling through her gag, sweating and straining, Mary burned in a hell of suffering. Mindless, she was utterly overwhelmed by pain, humiliation and degradation.
Moans of ecstasy filled the room as several couples tensed in the rapture of orgasm that so closely resembles agony. Mary was left to burn for several minutes before the black woman landed one last telling blow, perfectly aimed, between her buttocks. Gleaming with sweat, the superb sadist dropped the cat and lay down to receive lustful tributes of flesh from her many admirers.
When David came to stand behind Mary, she could hardly pay any attention to him, so wrapped up was she in her own body. Even though two gorgeous young females jerked him off over Mary’s buttocks, she could not hate him, or even truly notice his presence. He and everything else in the world had lost all their former importance, which now seemed spurious, mistaken, perhaps even a series of lies told to her by the world about the world. Now Mary could only believe in her own suffering.
David groaned. He spurted. His huge cock painted the symbols of his victory in vivid white on reddened, abused, curvaceous flesh.
‘Now then, Mary,’ panted David. ‘Let’s call it quits. You see everyone here is full of beans. This could go on all night. Be sensible. I’ll remove your gag. You promise to leave me alone. Then you can go. If you say anything else, the gag goes back.’
It was clear to Mary, even in her state of near panic, that she should promise to leave David alone. By now that was all she wanted to do anyway. Never to see him again would be fine. Besides, she could always break her promise if she wanted to – what could David do, sue her for breach of contract?
So she would promise. He removed her gag. She bit his right index finger and he howled. Only when somebody struck her across the arse with the leather cat was David able to pull his finger away from Mary’s vengeful teeth. Three women rushed over in a fury, and replaced Mary’s gag.
‘Take her to the next stage,’ David gasped, clutching his finger. ‘You’re an animal, Mary. But you’re going to be cured of wanting to be in my bloody bathroom.’
When Mary’s arms were released from the wooden frame, she resisted, but was helpless in the clutch of so many hands. Her wrists were shackled behind her back and, when her legs were released, the crowd soon transferred her ankles to the restraint of a dark, heavy wood leg stretcher, which held her legs far apart, forcing her to display her swollen cunt. Then the excited men and women carried her off like a trophy to a large bathroom, dominated by a huge black bath sunk into the floor. It was full of foaming hot water. A pair of ravishingly beautiful young women with long blonde hair were in the bath, playing with waterproof vibrators.
Laughing like cruel mermaids seeing a sinking ship, they welcomed Mary as a new toy to play with. Her gag was removed, and a swimming mask was put over her eyes and nose. She opened her mouth to speak, but could only shriek as she was picked up by a dozen hands and placed into the deep waters of the bath.
Seven
Slowly, very slowly, Mary came to her senses. She was lying in bed. She reviewed the beds of her life: was she in her parents’ home? No. Her flat in Leeds, or David’s house? No and no. All at once the events of the day and night before hit her mind like a blow, the hammer blow of wakefulness, the end of sleep, the resumption of suffering. She lurched out of bed and staggered to the window with its closed curtains of green. Her movements were slow and clumsy, her thinking a chaos of humiliations, her limbs ached, her pussy and nipples were tender, and her thighs, arse and back were smarting.
Opening the curtains she saw an unfamiliar view. Trees and fields on a lovely summer’s day. It would have been better if it had been cold, grey and drizzly, to reflect her mood. Suffering was always harder to bear when the weather was good, and what made it even worse was the feeling that somebody somewhere was happy, the selfish bastard. Mary thought that she herself might have been capable of great joy if only everything in her life had gone differently, from her birth to the present moment. Was that so much to ask?
Dazed, she looked around the unfamiliar room and saw a large sheet of paper on a desk next to her bag. The large, confident handwriting on the paper was also unfamiliar:
Dear Mary,
Thank you for a wonderful time. I paid for five nights in advance, so you can stay here and have a good rest. The money is in your bag, and your car is in the car park. I tell you all this because you had a bit too much to drink last night. This hotel is near Reading, in case you forgot that as well.
Thanks for everything,
Rex.
Mary put down the note, looked in her bag, and found a thousand pounds in fifties. Her first impulse was to flush the money down the toilet, but then it struck her that if she were ever to take revenge on David, it would be of real use. She had to think clearly first. Now she could not think at all, let alone think clearly.
Her mouth was very dry. She saw a small fridge and opened it, to see cheese, butter, salmon, ham, her favourite chocolates. And there were two large loaves of wholemeal bread on top of the fridge. Mary drank some water, sat on the bed, and was asleep again before she knew it. When she awoke again, she found her watch and saw that it was nearly five. She felt a little less dizzy and confused. It dawned on her that she had been sedated in order to get her here without her being able to make a fuss. At the end, had there not been an elderly man who assured her that he was a doctor, and given her an injection?
Tea. She wanted tea. When love has gone, and gone in stereo at that, Jack and David as twin speakers, and you have lost all faith in the human race and in life itself, when you hate yourself and see clearly that all the world is just evil, stupidity and suffering, nothing but a big piece of shit, there is still tea. So Mary pulled on some clothes, rang room service and had a pot of tea brought up.
Sitting alone again, she looked out of the window at the lovely blue sky with fluffy white clouds, at the trees and the birds and the fruitful fields, and she suddenly decided not to fall into complete despair after all, no matter how tempting and basically right and true it was to despair. This, she thought, is the only truly important decision it is possible for any human being ever to make: I decide not to despair. All other decisions, by comparison, are just yesterday’s vomit.
Appetite had she none, but she ate anyway. Surely life was nothing but a miserable, lonely and pointless fight to the death against overwhelming odds, but so what? She would eat to keep up her strength for the fight.
Her bum and thighs stung a little, but not too badly. She undressed to study her skin, and saw only some reddened areas, nothing dramatic. If she went to the police, they would think she was making a fuss about nothing. The marks did not seem as bad as Mary expected, remembering more details of last night, and she wondered if some soothing cream had been applied after she had been sedated. Those perverts really were methodical to a fault, indeed a whole bunch of faults.
Really, there was no point, Mary decided, in going to the police. It was not simply that she could prove nothing about her terrible ordeal, but also that she had in fact consented to it. David had set out the terms, she had agreed to them and the terms had not been broken. Besides, she was not even truly angry about the physical, sexual domination she had voluntarily endured. Rather, it was the way David had so thoroughly humiliated her in public and then discarded her like a piece of dirty rubbish that shocked her to the core. She could have enjoyed the whole thing if it had been done by David with love instead of hate – no, contempt. Hate is a fresh and invigorating emotion compared to contempt.
Wonder and a kind of pleasant fear filled Mary as she realised she was n
ot sure what to do now, or even where to go. Everything had come to an end. That was frightening, but it was also a kind of liberation. She had always loved freedom, and to bring everything in her life to an end was freedom. Her job had come to an end when she lost her temper, Jack had been well and truly ended when she dominated him in that hotel room, and now the story of her and David had gone from her mind because he had brought the whole thing to a shattering climax. Usually people thought it was sad when anything came to an end, but even in her dazed and unhappy state, Mary wondered if there might not be at least as much good in ends as beginnings. An end was the end of suffering, a beginning was only the bloody start.
What did you do when everything came to an end? It seemed to Mary that she must not fall back into old ways and habits, but instead be new, fresh. Not start anew, as she could not even think of anything to start, but be new. That was fine, but what was she actually going to do, and where was she to live? The idea of going back to her flat in Leeds seemed ridiculous. Even that flat seemed to have come to an end, she could hardly believe it still existed. She felt she had no more reason to be in Leeds than anywhere else. As for people, who the hell cared about people? It was so much better to be alone. The human race? What was that? A lot of people straining their guts out to win and so make everybody else look and feel bad? What were the prizes for this race? Who were the organisers, where was the audience? It all seemed pretty fishy to Mary, this whole business of the human race. The fix was in, some of the runners were doped, the handicapping system was a fucking joke, the whole thing was rigged. She refused to believe for one more second in this crap race from the rubbish tip to the graveyard, from being bullied at school to being drugged and mistreated in an old people’s home. A race against time, the race of the century. Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off.
Before 10 p.m., Mary was asleep again. When she awoke next morning she had a hearty breakfast, then went for a long walk. Her various aches, her soreness and tenderness, had almost faded completely. How full the world was of things to look at, touch, smell, and listen to! And there were people everywhere, though most of them seemed tired and discontent. What stops us, Mary wondered, from being happy, right here and now? Are we missing the point? Why are so many people, especially me, so well and truly fucked up? She decided to be strong and competent from then on, but when she got back to her hotel room she felt so lonely and depressed that she cried for an hour, then ate a lot of chocolate and had a nap. For the rest of the evening she stayed in bed, thinking about all the people she had ever known.
David, for instance. Of course he was a crazy, evil sadist, but how hard it was to hate the little creep, or even to despise him as he deserved. Other people seemed so boring and stupid by comparison, even if they were good. She would just have to try harder to hate him, or forget and ignore him, or to take on him a sickening revenge, not that he was even worthy of her vengeance. And all the other people? It was hard even to think of her friends in Leeds, they seemed so ordinary and foolish that they hardly seemed to exist. Everyone she had ever known except for David, Carol and Faye seemed just silly and pointless.
No wonder she had always found David so fascinating. He was not the same as everybody else, and nearly everybody else was so bloody boring and stupid.
Carol and Faye stood out in Mary’s mind too, for being so good, so nice, so happy with one another. Maybe she would visit them, since they were the only people she still liked, and she had nothing else to do and nowhere else to go. So what if they lived near David? She was a free agent, she could go where she liked. He was nothing to do with anything in her life, not any more. It was all over, and she would never think of him again. Forget the past. Burn it. Follow a scorched earth policy, leave nothing behind. Destroy everything.
Think of all the things he had done to her! No, better not to, it would make her horny. Too late. Mary decided she would masturbate while thinking of David one last time, to say goodbye to all that, to methodically clear it from her mind once and forever. David and all those creeps in that house in London where so much had happened. Truly her mind and body were full of that experience, and she had to have an orgasm just to be able to think clearly about other things and come back to herself. So for nearly two hours she masturbated in every way she could think of, and it was refreshing.
She used her fingers, her toothbrush, the shower. She rode two pillows as if they were a man, and she bound her breasts, waist and thighs tightly with a sheet. She masturbated in positions she had never masturbated in before, and after she had come three times she rated the operation a success, and slept the good sleep of the orgasmed.
Next day, Mary drove around and did some shopping, though she was careful not to spend much. One of the things she bought was Space Opera by Jack Vance, David’s favourite author. It was not that she wanted to understand David better, she told herself, rather she needed to broaden her horizons. Just because David did something or liked something was no reason for her to avoid it. That would be petty, and giving David too much importance. She found the novel insane and funny.
It was raining hard when Mary awoke next morning. She performed her routine exercises, a habit she had briefly allowed to lapse. She resolved never to be so distracted and confused again. Discipline was the key to life, self-discipline and methodical behaviour. All those other things people talked about, like being nice and helpful and sociable, and all that New Age pigshit about magic, astrology and so on, was all crappy lies, which was why so many people liked it. What counted was self-discipline, method, skills and strength.
Mary slowly ate a hearty breakfast while staring out of the window at the rain-drenched landscape of England, and even more she stared at the window itself, visible with drops and rivulets of water that trembled, shivered, flowed and merged, glistening with light, heading down and down. As a child, Mary could look at rain on the windows for hours on end, which was one of the reasons her parents secretly thought she was a bit touched. But really, Mary thought, watching rain on the window is far more interesting than most of the things people do. It struck her as strange that nobody ever told you the useful facts that life is only a solitary fight to the death against overwhelming odds, but that sometimes you can have a rest by watching rain on a window. Who gained the advantage from keeping the truth a secret?
After she finished breakfast it was still raining hard, so she practised karate moves for a while, then showered, dressed, packed and checked out. By then it was only drizzling.
As she drove along, she had an idea that filled her with true horror: what if all her experiences with David were the most exciting part of her life, her whole life? What if, after David, there was nothing but trivialities, normality and boredom?
Eight
Drizzle was so English, Mary thought, as she arrived at Carol’s family house. It went on and on for no reason, it was neither one thing nor the other, it veiled everything in vagueness to avoid any unwelcome clarity, and it was so cold and damp and depressing that it made you wonder what the point of anything was. It was hypocritical and puritanical. Mary had recently read that Spanish women had the most orgasms of any women in Europe. Of course they do, she thought, and why not? Spain is noted for its lack of drizzle.
Everything about the big house and garden said money. A former farmhouse swallowed up by the suburbs, it had been largely rebuilt. Carol’s parents were both geneticists, and Mary knew they must be as good as Frankenstein to afford such a great place. Carol and Faye’s parents alike were away, but the two girls were spending most of their time at Carol’s, as it had everything, and everything it had was the best. Mary thought it would be a good place to recuperate and regroup, but she was determined not to repeat the mistake she had made with David. This time, if she were not sure she was welcome, she would leave at once. There was plenty to do back home in Leeds. Such as the washing-up she had abandoned in the sink.
‘Mary! Good to see you! Come on in,’ Carol exclaimed when she opened the door.
M
ary had been prepared to leave rather than make a nuisance of herself all over again but, to her surprise, Carol and Faye really were pleased to see her, indeed they even seemed excited. The strong welcome filled Mary with suspicion and, ironically, she felt like making her excuses and leaving.
The three of them sat at a table in a beautiful room where everything seemed to be made of golden wood. It was, thought Mary, like being inside an advert for something. Life, perhaps. Over tea and biscuits they talked: Mary said that she had argued with David, and they had broken up for good. To her surprise, she suddenly started sobbing violently, though it would have been hard for her to explain exactly what she was crying about. How kind Faye and Carol were, how well they tried to console her and reassure her! They hugged her, patted her, said all the right things, held her hand and kept saying she had to stay with them for a holiday, she really had to. Both Faye and Carol would make great mothers one day, Mary thought, and she felt tempted to give up for a while and pretend to be their infant daughter. It would be nice to abandon the hardships of adult life, just temporarily, and be a child again, though not of course with her real parents. She was not that crazy.
‘Stay here for a long time,’ said Carol. ‘Please say you will. My parents won’t be back for another four weeks, you know. They’re going to a conference and then they’re taking a tour of America before they come back. They’ll visit some institutes and universities as well, it’s partly a working holiday. This house is so big, there’s tons of room. And we can use the swimming pool when the weather improves. And we’ll go out. The three of us can have a nice time.’
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