by Laurie Mann
***
Monday 25th January
My heart pounded the adrenaline to pussy as the tyres crunched on the familiar long driveway that always ends at the imagined wide grey steps. Beyond the steps, what? Madam’s words invaded, ‘I’ll deal with you next week.’ I felt the fear, clammy under arms and hackles rise while pussy purred.
Naked, my arms stretched to ceiling and chained feet straddling a metal bar, so uncomfortable against coconut matting. Uncontrollable fidgeting caused more discomfort and more fidgeting, more discomfort ... and so it went on. Time became lost as pain and pleasure united to mock all sensibility and the ever increasing fear.
Alone with only my imagination fuelled by the neatly laid table. Bullwhip, birch and two cats - nine lives, nine tails. One straight, the other beaded. Clamps, weights, candles, phallics. My future stark against the virgin cloth. Better unseen. Imagination too vivid.
Mirrors. Huge and free standing in beautiful gilt frames encircled me like settler’s wagons. Every twitch, shudder and tremor attracted my eyes. No escape. Breasts heaved and feet itched on the mat while my flamingo pallor deepened as pussy gloated, lips glistening.
So elegant, Madam in the mirrors, everywhere. Spiders crawled over my skin as her silken fingertips caressed and her gloved palm squeezed before the back of her hand smashed into my cheek. Why?
“Prepare It.”
The young hunk appeared from seemingly nowhere. Prepare? Hadn’t I already been prepared? Left hanging for the imagination to torture. Heard the whoosh and felt the breeze as the birch mesmerised with its sweeps and swoops. Every pass froze my heart and every unanswered flinch was added torture.
The playing suddenly stopped in a frenzy of pain. Thousands of flames licked my shoulders, back, legs, tummy and breasts as criss-crossing lines layered the pain. Twisted and bucked but there was no escape as stroke upon stroke brought gasps, yelps and tears until, at last, I was left dangling, spasms testing my bonds and exciting pussy.
How long I hung there I don’t know, but I dreaded what would follow. Already my skin felt raw and, wherever I looked, reflections of reddening lines and twitching muscles were a constant reminder that all was not yet done. The only respite from inflamed muscles and skin was pussy, once again wallowing in my torment and pleading satisfaction.
I watched Madam, athletically slender in a black leotard but still masked. One by one she perused the items on the table. Every one brandished while her eyes scorned the terror reflected all around me. Her displeasure and my terror everywhere. Physical pain can be a release, journal. How I longed for the torment to end and the pain to distract.
The dildo looked huge with her fingers unable to encircle it. Long as well, with a menacing looking probe at the blunt end. She teased pussy, lubricated even more, though it wasn’t necessary, before prising my lips wide to gain entry. Filled beyond belief and the evil probe crushed my clit. Even after acclimatising to the intrusion pussy still hurt. Plastic clamps snapped shut on my labia and the teeth bit hard and pulled when they took the weight of the monstrosity inside me. Uncontrollable tremors rippled through my thighs as the shock snatched the breath from my lungs. Tears rolled down my cheeks as my arms strained to break the bonds and rescue pussy. Even pussy forsook pleasure for numbness. Madam smirked and her eyes told of more to come. Impossible to ignore the grotesque protuberance that so distorted, drawing my every sense, seen from every angle and despised through every nerve end.
Nipples next. Shiny metal clips with vicious teeth and weights swinging gently, distended and stretched my breasts to impossible size. Unbelievable agony flowed and my mind turned grey and fuzzy before the instant revival of acrid smelling salts. Madam intended I hurt, so she ensured the sanctuary of unconsciousness was denied. What else? I only lost a race. Coherent thought became as impossible as my escape. Rock, rescue me from this, please, you must!
Tears distorted the movement which the mirrors further confused. No confusion in the pain that lashed my back, jolting me and making the teeth bite harder as my breasts swung and wobbled ever more excruciatingly. Screams infiltrated. My screams? More lashes, more screams. Fuzzy. More smells and the tears cascaded, as my hurt continued. Rock. Mirrors like a kaleidoscope and I felt sick so closed eyes, dizzy. Pain layered upon pain. Slow, deliberate, endless. Oblivion, please. Absorbed the pain without feeling, just hung and took it. Screams and body were no longer mine as a grey darkness invaded.
Pussy awoke, dissolved the pain into pleasure. A light, bright and growing through the tunnel of darkness. Slowly at first, then greedily feeding. Hors d’oeuvre, main course and delicious sweetmeats before leaving me hanging with agonies returning to re-fuel pussy’s hunger. No respite, as sure as time itself. No, no, no more, please, no more echoed round my head.
No rest, even exhaustion couldn’t defeat the abomination that filled pussy, biting lips and keeping my pot simmering. Time stood still as over and over again the mirrors showed my pulsating submission to pussy’s pleasure.
Pillow’s wet with my sobs. No memory of journey. Pain’s real so more time off work and Rock’s still two weeks away. I clutched the cassette in my white knuckled fingers. More instructions, Madam’s voice with her commands, which I know I’ll obey. Can’t/won’t incur her wrath again, but, tomorrow’s another day - I’ll listen then.
Madam’s voice boomed from speakers after yet another tortuous night.
“Next time, leniency will not feature in my plans. Your value is currently being re-assessed. My decision regarding your future with me or your ruination will be advised in due course.”
Listened, panic stricken, to the silent tape. There must be another message but only the incessant whirring and the end of tape. First physical torture, now mental. Considering ruination she’d said, my business, house and Rock all lost. She can’t - can - and will. How long must I wait? In two weeks Rock will be home but I can’t tell him, not yet anyway - if ever. Help me, journal.
The voice? Play it again. Lisa’s voice? No. Definitely Madam’s but the accent’s like Lisa’s when she’s excited. Related? Lisa, Madam, Scotland. Must keep eye on Lisa. Rock and Lisa? NO! Can’t be, not now, can it?
Pain and anguish combined while the pillow absorbed my tears.
***
Monday 1st February.
January, thank goodness it’s passed. A terrible month, so cold and damp, so long. A fine start to the New Year with Rock away the whole time, just when I need him most with Madam so vindictive and demanding while pussy constantly reminds me of his decree that my pleasure belongs to him. Business is quiet, always is in January, but at least Charles and especially Monica have accepted Rock and his ways. They don’t like them but grudgingly accept his job’s so unlike theirs that they’ll just have to accept his word. At least there is peace again, for which I’m grateful. Lisa, what about Lisa? You know my thoughts. Soon she must slip up I’m sure, but when? So lonely with Rock away - telephone’s not the same, is it? Even a day at the sales failed to lift my spirits. I wanted so desperately to buy something nice to wear for Rock but even that pleasure has been denied.
Monday 8th February.
Rock’s home at last and I gazed lovingly from the office window as he shunted back and forth before carefully slipping the trailer onto the far loading bay. Why does he do that when delivery drivers just swing round in one go? Watched as he fiddled around before driving off leaving the trailer behind.
“Lisa, where’s Rock going?”
“Taking it down for service. Shall I send him up when I’ve collected him?”
“No. I’ll pick him up. Fancy a ride out, anyway” I didn’t want her to plan anything and don’t trust her. Not completely anyway.
One eyebrow raised was his only sign of surprise when he saw my car.
“Hello, Rock.”
“All right?” His eyes lingered unashamedly on my exp
osed thighs before they stripped me as he struggled onto the seat. “Bloody car’s too close to the ground. How you supposed to get in and out?” he muttered.
“Sports cars are supposed to be low.”
“You’d think for fifty grand they’d be more user friendly.”
“It’s easier when the roof’s down.”
“Hummff. Weather’s supposed to be outside, not in.”
Chuckled as the tension eased. I longed to tell of my decision and my heart fluttered in anticipation.
“Where are we going?”
“A country pub I know for lunch. Show you what fifty grand can do.” The big cat purred through traffic then roared when I gave her her head on the open road. Exhilarating. Brutal acceleration and so sure footed in the corners, despite the damp road, good as sex any day. Rock seemed unimpressed - always seems unimpressed.
The Barley Mow with its low beams was quiet and we found a table by the fire. Real flames with logs crackling and spitting - could taste the smoke. Lunched on home made soup with fresh baked bread - delicious luxurious warmth to temper the cold drizzly day.
“I’ve been thinking, Rock. I’ve made my decision.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.” Memories of sleeping at the foot of his bed, which were never far away, flooded my mind. “I want to be yours.”
“Thought you would. We’ll sort out the terms and conditions tomorrow. My house at ten o’clock. Now what else has been happening while I’ve been away? Lisa coping O.K.?”
“Yes.” Lunch passed pleasantly but I needed to avoid anything to do with Lisa. Why did he sound so interested in whether she was coping OK? Coping with work, or ... am I getting paranoid? “What did you think about the car then? Apart from getting in and out, that is.” Couldn’t help laughing at the fuss he’d made.
“It’s O.K. Know better after I’ve tried it. Not my choice though, I must admit.”
Tossed him the keys. “Try it then, you’ll soon change your mind, she’s lovely.”
Flashed my panties as he gallantly held door for me. Felt the buzz like a mischievous schoolgirl, before watching him try the switches and get comfortable. Smooth and steady but I was disappointed. It’s built to go, not cruise but he soon stopped and re-adjusted the seat and mirrors.
“Right let’s see how good it really is? I should grab the ‘F.H.’ handle, if I were you.” He glanced at the handle above the door.
F.H.? What’s he on about?
Tyres chirped and spat gravel. The engine growled and I was thrust back into my seat. Hedgerow flashed past as every gear screamed. Speedo showed the ton, already. WOW! Rock, impassive as he caressed my big car into swooping eagle-like through countryside. Oh no! Chevrons, sharp right but still not slowing. Rock hadn’t even seen and it’s my car, my precious car. Knuckles turned white as I held my breath with the bend so close, too fast. Rock, nothing, just eased wheel and I was pinned back to seat as the car jumped sideways before he flicked wheel straight. ‘F.....g Hell.’ So that’s why it’s the ‘F.H.’ handle. WOW! Adrenaline rushed, while Rock was impassive, in total control. Office arrived much too soon - I was really buzzing.
“Not bad, a bit soft on the springs and steering’s too light. See you tomorrow.”
He was gone, had no effect but I was on Cloud Nine. Loved everything, the drive, Rock. Brilliant.
Ten o’clock he’d said and so it was, exactly, when I rang his bell.
“Hello, Rock.” I shivered while he optically stripped, as much a trademark as his dry humour and beard.
“Hello, coffee’s in the kitchen.” Impassively he looked through my dress. Remembered, slaves can’t use furniture unless earned, so I stood. Waiting.
“Lift your dress.”
Fingers clutched the cotton before slowly inching the hem to expose my thighs.
“Higher.”
Hem continued upwards towards my thumping heart. Stopped at panties, though. You know, the ones with pretty rosebuds. His eyes told not high enough so I lift my arms until my dress bisected my tummy. What next? Rock’s gaze excited and my thighs felt chubby, even though I know they’re not.
“Tights and knickers are forbidden.” Fingers hooked into the elastic and pulled, leaving me standing, panties round my ankles as he left. Where to? Daren’t move. Pussy moist.
He soon returned, silent and intimidating with his hands full. He lifted each leg in turn to remove my tights and then pressed shiny black tape onto my pubes. Leather cuffs, linked by chain, hobbled my knees. Could only watch. I’m his with no say any more. Just stood, dress round my waist, while he drank his coffee. No explanation as to the tape or chain. Could only imagine. My thoughts this time, journal, not yours.
“Come on.”
Followed into the car, his car, with every step shortened abruptly by the hobble chain. Every step tugging at my hair as the tape pulled. Constantly reminding that he’d said pubic hair’s forbidden and that I’d forgotten and must now pay. Hurt. The car seemed to float as the country lane became a slow motion roller coaster ride towards town.
“And you had the nerve to say my car was soft.”
“It is. Too soft for a sports job anyway. This was built for a different market.”
“What is it anyway?”
“Cadillac.”
Eventually we found a parking space. It seems that multi-stories are too small, so we had to walk, well, saunter really as Rock never seems to hurry at all. Have you ever tried walking with knees hobbled? Or with pubes taped? Even at Rock’s gentle pace I was soon red faced and agitated as I tried to keep up.
He searched the jeweller’s window before giving me some money and pointing out the necklace he wanted. A pretty silver chain with a round medallion which had sculptured edges and room for a name.
I waited, red faced, on the sumptuous carpet, trying to ignore people but wondering if they’d guessed. ‘Rock’s’ was all the engraving needed, so why take so long? The shop felt claustrophobic, despite the bright dazzling lights that sparkled from the glittering showcases. Tripped against my hobble and desperately hoped that nobody saw or guessed why. Hoped the engraver hadn’t guessed, or did I? Wasn’t it just a little bit exciting - others knowing? Fresh air at last filled my lungs with deep breaths as I found Rock, sat on a bench, his pipe billowing as he enjoyed my flustered progress. Remembered, can’t use furniture. Is a wooden bench furniture? Best not chance it so I stood, waiting with the cold breeze nice against my rosy cheeks as my composure slowly returned.
Half walked, half stumbled as my heels unerringly found the cracks my chained knees make impossible to avoid. Felt conspicuous, like thousands of shopper’s eyes were watching my every stilted step. I felt much too hot for the time of year and Rock made no allowance for the bondage he’d applied as I struggled. Every truncated step a reminder. Every tug of tape agony. Pussy delighted at my plight - as usual.
The aroma of fresh baking and rich coffee delighted my nose as my eyes feasted on the shelves that dispelled at a glance any thoughts of diets. Chocolate, jam, cream, sugary doughnuts, all kinds of manna to a sweet tooth.
“Two coffees, two cream doughnuts.”
Stood in the queue, confirmation that I was indeed his slave. His proud, excited slave. Served by a fresh faced girl with a cheery smile but eyes full of the boredom of the Saturday job. I balanced the tray and scanned the tiny black tables with neat white cloths, sparsely populated by older folk with the time, that seems to have disappeared from modern life, to pause for coffee. To relax and watch the world go by. I saw Rock in the corner. Always in a corner. My struggle between the tables would have been easier with bigger steps, though.
“What’s that on the tray, then?” His stare told I’d done wrong.
“Coffee, doughnut.” Paused to think, afraid of answer.
“And?” No time for further de
lay.
“Fruit flan.”
“Oh! You may sit.” At least I’d remembered about furniture but he wasn’t happy. The silence worried me. Be better if he got it over with, just tell me how many and forget about it until due time. Well, maybe not forget, but it would be easier, knowing. It’ll hurt, no doubt. Always does. Slaves always hurt, it seems, which is lucky for pussy. Dare I drink coffee? No. Wait ‘til told. Remembered the Royal Oak and I was in enough trouble already. Supposed to be impressing. Felt like a naughty schoolgirl and casual conversation didn’t help. Guilty, awaiting sentence. What? Where? When?
“More coffees and a cream doughnut.”
Struggled with more coffee and the doughnut. No mistake this time and I now had two, one cold, black and bitter and one hot, steaming, black and bitter. He casually ate my flan. In front of my eyes he’d enjoyed it. Enjoyed my envy. I adore doughnuts but the flan looked so tasty. He passed me the cold coffee. No milk and I grimaced as my tongue tried to escape. Gulped it quick and hated the cold, bitter taste. I’ll be good next time, no mistake. Pushed the doughnut under nose and my fingers got sticky, cream got on nose and sugar stuck to my lips. Humiliated as I had to use my palm to wipe my nose, with hanky and serviette forbidden. Dress, coat, shoes and hobble chain, that’s all - Rock has everything. I could feel others watching as he drank my hot coffee, thankfully, because I couldn’t stomach another like the last one. But, that’s three he’s had - far too many.
“Open it, today’s date.”
Fingers fanned the passage of time in the diary pushed across the table. Nervously studied my trembling, sticky fingers, I couldn’t look into his eyes. Cold, no nonsense eyes.