The Diaries of Syra Bond

by Syra Bond

  I wanted to get underneath the table and lick up his cum. I wanted to crawl on my hands and knees and suck Gonzalo down next, but I knew Galen would be angry if he even suspected what I was thinking. Keeping it carefully cupped, I withdrew my hand from around Juan Carlos’s cock, and looking at Galen to make sure his attention was still riveted on the stage, I lifted my hand to my mouth and drank. I lapped up the man’s hot semen, tasting its saltiness and feasting on its abundant richness, swallowing it down as though I was a thirsty pilgrim lost in the desert. I closed my eyes and let the viscous liquid slip down my throat, and then, amidst the din of the dancing and the deep tingling in my pussy from the pressure of the leggings digging into my labia, I shuddered in the throes of an orgasm it took all my self-control to conceal. It came suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, and I dropped my eyes as it coursed through me like a thousand electrifying jolts bursting between my legs and rushing in a blazing current beneath my skin. My nerves were charged as if with lightning, and bolts of pure pleasure shook me to the core as I lapped my sticky palm like a hungry animal.

  It was not a word, it was more a gasp, an exhalation, a breathless exclamation of released energy, but it was a sound. I had broken my silence and I knew it. Galen looked at me angrily. He did not say anything, but I could tell he knew exactly what had happened. It was incredibly foolish of me to believe I could deceive him. Even when his attention did not seem to be focused on me, I knew he was aware of me, perhaps even more so than when he was actually looking at me. Everything with this man was a test, and I kept failing miserably. He grabbed my arm, pulled me to my feet and bundled me out of the club. I wanted to say I was sorry, but I said nothing at all - I did not dare.

  I did not know what the penalty for disobedience and infidelity would be. I knew there had to be a penalty, a punishment - I would not have been satisfied if there had not been - but I could not imagine what form it would take. Already it was not enough for me to feel guilt and shame for failing to follow instructions, I also needed the deeper humiliation that came with the execution of an appropriate punishment.

  Back at his house I sat where he told me to, on the raised platform in the middle of the upper floor, anxiously studying the shiny chromium plated padlock on the hatch. I sensed again that there was something ominous beneath the tight-fitting wooden doors.

  ‘As punishment for your disobedience,’ Galen addressed me in the deep, disapproving tone of a judge passing sentence, ‘you must sit here for the rest of the night and not speak.’

  I felt a sense of relief mingled with disappointment. It was not a cruel enough punishment for my transgression and I felt frustrated and cheated. Surely someone who had been so faithless deserved a much more severe penance.

  ‘However,’ he continued, ‘I cannot trust you, can I, Syra? You failed before, so this time I will make sure you do not speak.’ He fetched two chopsticks and placed them horizontally across my mouth, one above my upper lip and the other below my bottom lip. He pinched them together, squeezing my mouth out like a bill, and then tied the ends with a thin cord. I sat with my back stiff and did not move as he applied the ingeniously painful gag.

  ‘As you sit, Syra my pet,’ he spoke softly in my ear, ‘you can remember drinking Juan Carlos’s semen and the pain across your bottom, which will throb all night and remind you that you did not have my permission to act as you did. You may nod if you understand.’

  I nodded slowly, and as the tension in the chopsticks tightened, my lips began stinging. I felt tears in the corners of my eyes, but did not dare blink in case it annoyed him. I remained still, my back rigid, my eyes wide open, but I was ready to move the moment he commanded me to. I waited, not daring to glance behind me as he took something out of a drawer in the cabinet. I expected to be told to get on all fours, or to stand and bend over, or to spread myself across his knee, but suddenly I felt the caress of a leather belt across my back and knew I was not to be spanked this time, but thrashed.

  ‘Stand up and remove your dress,’ he commanded.

  I obeyed at once, flinging the garment away carelessly as I tightened my shoulders against the burning pain that immediately cut across my naked back. He paused, and I realised he was looking at me, waiting to see if I moved or if I remained obediently still. Then another searing blow fell where the first one had already left its smouldering mark. I held myself rigid, my eyes opening even wider as I absorbed the blazing agony, hoping my efforts would please him. The belt struck again, this time further down my back just below my shoulder blades, and for some reason it was harder to bear then the first two lashes. I felt tears welling in my eyes as I struggled to remain motionless. There was a pause - I knew he was watching me again carefully, analysing my reaction - then he brought the belt down on top of the smouldering mark the last blow had burned across my skin.

  Tears flowed down my face as the belt kept stroking me cruelly, sometimes with a rhythm I could brace myself against, sometimes at random, with long, indeterminate pauses in between lashes that threw me into a frenzy of dread and anticipation. The last cruel kiss of the leather landed across the top of my buttocks, slapping against them, absorbing the perspiration glistening on my skin so each successive lash sounded louder than the last. My nipples were harder than they had ever been and the heat in my cunt was almost unbearable. I wanted to sink my fingers into it, to feel and relish its softness, cupping my hand against its wetness, but I could not, and it frustrated me terribly even as it heightened my arousal to the point where I must have passed out from the intensity of my lust, which was consuming not only my body but my very soul...

  I awoke in what felt like the middle of the night, wracked with pain. I tried to feel my back, but discovered my hands had been tied together over my stomach by a thin rope wrapped around my waist. In order to distract myself, I imagined I heard the slow wash of water beneath me. It made me think of the surface of the sea slowly being broken by a heavy, lazy whale... I imagined the hatchway in the raised platform leading down into the dark centre of a water-filled cave, a place where there was no sensation except the knowledge of being entombed in darkness. I pictured what it was like to be there, drifting serenely in a sense-deprived silence punctuated only by the occasional soft lapping of a wave against an unseen shore.

  Later - I think it was later - I saw myself sitting at Galen’s feet, asking him what lay beneath the platform, and heard his voice murmuring in my mind, ‘Everything you have ever desired, Syra my pet, everything you have ever desired...

  Chapter 7

  For a while I could sense nothing, all my feelings were locked inside me, but now everything is there again, every smell, every taste, every pain, every expectation, every hope, every wish and every desire. It is the world providing me with sensations once more. I wonder if he knows that my sense of being has returned. I wonder if he realises I do not need any more treatment. I wonder whether he understands I have been cured of my terrible ailment. I need to show him what has happened, that I am better again, but every time he comes I simply present what I have written to him, and wait. It is as though I no longer have any will of my own, as though, like everything else, it has been taken from me.

  Of course, he is right to ignore my silent pleas, for I have not truly been cured, I know that. Even so, as I write my story I am increasingly embarrassed to think that such a short time ago I was incredibly naive and foolish. Surely this feeling is a good sign and part of my cure.

  But the feeling hardly lasts long enough for me to notice, let alone for anyone else to observe, and everything I am writing down only reminds me of the pleasure, the dark delight, the wicked ecstasy of my time with Galen. How can I think of anything other than that perversely beautiful experience? And how can I imagine that a cure for how I felt when I was with him is in itself nothing but a different kind of sickness?

  Galen came to me before sunrise. I was sitting up again with my back rigid, staring straig
ht ahead of me with the chopsticks tied across my lips, and I did not turn towards him as I heard him approaching. He undid the thin twine at the ends of the chopsticks, and looked at me for a while before he finally released my hands. I remained sitting impassively, not moving, not rubbing my aching limbs nor exercising my stiff lips. I stared straight ahead as if seeing right into eternity.

  Suddenly I shivered uncontrollably and immediately felt guilty about having moved. I could still feel the constricting chopsticks across my lips, even though they were no longer there. When he first tied them across my mouth I experienced the pain that accompanied the pinching pressure. It tormented me for hours after I awoke alone in the dark, and then my lips went mercifully numb. They were tingling terribly now as the blood rushed back into them and sensation gradually returned.

  ‘Go and sleep some more now, my pet,’ he said gently. ‘On a nice comfortable bed with no bondage constricting you.’

  I got up, moaning softly. My whole body felt stiff and my back was still aching from his beating. I walked to the bedroom, lay on the bed as he had instructed, and fell swiftly into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  I sat up, startled by a hand shaking my sore shoulders. The hand belonged to Eve. She had a white towel draped across her shoulders and was dripping wet. Her dark hair hung in snakelike coils over her shoulders and her tanned skin shimmered like a mermaid’s beneath her strangely glazed eyes. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking directly at my naked pussy. I pulled my legs together a little, in a hopeless attempt to ease the nervous thrill surging through me as I gazed at the pert swell of her breasts beneath the wet towel. My feelings were an oncoming storm flashing with sparks of energy building up inside me. My eyes glazed as I found it hard to focus, feeling the tingling onset of an orgasm wanting to happen. I bit my lip to try and suppress it, but the pain where the chopsticks had been - a jolting reminder of my night of captivity - was like a plug being pulled and releasing the pent-up wave of ecstasy that flowed now unstoppable. I gasped and sat up slightly as the pleasure crested directly between my legs, and then fell back across the mattress as if flung there. The climax drained slowly out of me in my pussy juices, exhausting me, sapping my vitality and leaving me completely depleted. I stared up at the ceiling not remembering for a moment where I was, my thoughts in complete disarray...

  The next thing I knew Eve was shaking me again, this time more urgently, as though my awaking would help snap the vague look out of her own dark eyes. Rising after her, I followed her lethargic steps to the upstairs floor and once more seated myself on the raised platform. I glanced down, and saw the padlock was not in its place securing the hasp and staple over the trapdoor. I watched her move out onto the balcony and drop the towel to the floor. She stood naked near the edge, lazily caressing her breasts in the sunshine. She circled them with the tips of her fingers, and then squeezed her erect nipples as if trying to pinch herself fully awake. She looked like the statue of a goddess, golden-skinned, perfectly formed and glistening with divine nectar. It was as if the gods themselves had anointed her in preparation for licking the ambrosial drops from her succulent body, as though without this sweet moisture on their tongues their eternal lives were meaningless. She stepped sideways, standing between me and the sun, and a blazing halo of light formed around her body as though she was burning with a force beyond the understanding of mere mortals.

  Absently, I lifted the metal hasp sitting unprotected beside the padlock, the shiny staple bent in a hook within the hole at its end. It came free easily, and when I tugged at it a little more, the crack between the tight-fitting doors of the hatch opened slightly, enabling me to look inside. A steel bar was fixed beneath the crack and at its centre sat a reel like a small windlass. I bent forward to stare beyond it, but saw only darkness. I opened the door wider, lifting until it was at a right angle to the top of the rostrum, but still I could see nothing. It was completely black inside - a silent, abysmal void. I felt disappointed and angry, remembering Galen’s proclamation that beneath the hinged doors lay ‘everything I had ever desired’. There was nothing there; his promise was empty and I pouted in profound annoyance.

  He entered the room suddenly and called Eve off the balcony. He asked her if she was all right, and she nodded, unconvincingly, I thought. ‘Perhaps it was too much for you?’ he asked cryptically.

  ‘Never,’ she said firmly, blinking hard, as though having stared at the sun for so long she could not rid herself of the silhouette blotting out her vision.

  He came to me and draped his arm around my shoulders. ‘Syra, my pet, are you ready to pursue your goal? Are you prepared to approach your fears and awaken your darkest sexual desires? Are you, as you agreed, ready to be truly bad?’

  The question seemed loaded with menace and I felt confused. The way forward seemed to have no limits, no restrictions, and I shivered at the thought of what awaited me, but I could not go back, of that I was sure. ‘Please,’ I whispered, as if my will was indistinguishable from his, ‘take me to the limit.’

  This time he told me I must wear a vest, a skirt and sandals and nothing else, but I could choose them from the closet myself. I showered, and then selected a tight white vest, a short black pleated skirt and black leather sandals with shiny metal buckles. The skirt fitted tightly around my hips and the pleats spun out when I turned around swiftly. Galen seemed pleased when I presented myself to him. He told me to bend over and touch my toes. He wanted to determine how far he could see up my skirt. I obeyed him and waited while he stared at me. I knew what he could see and I felt moisture collecting between the exposed lips of my pussy.

  The same taxi driver as before picked us up and drove us to the bullring again. Eve sat in the front and I sat in the back beside Galen. The dark-haired driver leered at me in the rear-view mirror, but I pretended to ignore him. He tilted the mirror down and I could tell he was attempting to look up my skirt. I did not ask for Galen’s approval - I chose to believe I had it - and opened my legs enough for the young man to glimpse the pouting lips of my delectable slit. He adjusted the mirror again and I moved forward slightly on the seat so I could spread my legs just a little bit more.

  The sensation of his gaze focused alternately on the road and on my naked sex was like being stroked with something soft and smooth, and yet at the same time slightly and excitingly abrasive. I felt his penetrating glances mysteriously parting my labia and prying into the darker pink folds leading into my vagina. His eyes found my clitoris, and as I squeezed my buttocks together and edged forward in the seat even more, I felt his stare pressing against its inflamed tip. I wanted to lift my skirt around my waist and drape myself over the front seat, bent at the waist, my naked bottom thrust high and visible through the windows as I took his cock in my mouth and sucked him down while he drove through the busy streets. I pictured the gawking stares of passers-by as I lowered my face over his throbbing erection, letting my weight drive it deep into my mouth until it filled the back of my throat. I imagined the cab stopped at a busy intersection and faces peering through the windows, staring at me as I swallowed his pulsating flesh, gulping it down greedily, consuming it and nearly drowning myself in the salty fountain that erupted into my throat...

  Galen reached over and pulled the hem of my skirt down. The pleats dipped between my knees and completely covered my pussy. I felt censured from my own fantasies and stupid for assuming he did not know my thoughts. I dropped my gaze and pressed the pleats firmly between my thighs to protect what lay beneath them from the driver’s gaze.

  Galen paid the man and told him to wait; we would not be more than an hour, he said. He held my arm as we walked through the entrance tunnel while Eve walked behind us listlessly, a loose-fitting red leather jacket hanging from her shoulders and a short white skirt riding high up her thighs with her every step. Mora was in the president’s box, and when he saw us step out onto the terraces, he waved and beckoned to us enthusiastically.
/>
  ‘No Espartaco today,’ he declared, as we entered the red-curtained box. ‘Perhaps he has lost his courage and run away.’

  Galen patted the chair next to his and I sat down. The pet did not join us in the box, but wandered off into the crowd, pulling her jacket back onto her shoulders whenever it was inadvertently knocked off by the glancing caress of someone she brushed past. Galen talked to Mora about Espartaco. He told him the agreement he had come to with Gonzalo and Juan Carlos, and they laughed together about the matador’s fate.

  ‘You will see, Mora, Espartaco will be my greatest success yet,’ Galen concluded arrogantly, and then looked at me. ‘Although there may be greater successes in the future,’ he added, smiling.

  I nodded at him silently, thrilled by his words but concealing my pleasure.

  ‘Look,’ Mora said, ‘there is Juan Carlos now. He has a young woman with him. Perhaps he has brought you someone fresh for your experiments? Perhaps she will be the next subject of your research? Yes, perhaps she will be the success that will eclipse all your other achievements, including Espartaco.’

  Juan Carlos pushed his way across the terrace towards the box. Behind him trailed the young blonde with the short dress I had seen him watching yesterday. She looked innocent and energetic as she hung onto his outstretched hand and stepped through the crowd. She wore a wide-brimmed straw hat and her long hair hung across her shoulders from beneath it. Her pale skin seemed to shine in the dappled illumination pouring in from beneath the latticework of the hat, covering her in gentle flickering lights, accentuating her youth and vitality.