'Mark. Mark. Look at me.' Her voice was quite loud by the time I finally paid it any heed.
'You should go home. Right now you can barely stand up, so how in hell you plan to take a whipping is beyond me. I've already called a taxi for you, and it'll be here within ten minutes. You don't need to worry about the ladies. I'll tell them it was my idea and I was a bit worried about you.'
Taking a series of several very deep breaths I smiled at her. My faculties were nearly all back now and I knew exactly what she was up to.
'You don't want to do this, do you? You never intended to whip me.' Wiping the sweat from my forehead I grinned up her. My sense of humour had returned.
Pushing the tip of her boot into my ribs she hissed at me. 'No. I do not want to do this. Your wife is in hospital and clearly you're suffering. I would be an animal if I wanted to strip the flesh off your bones at this point, and quite frankly, I don't. I also know that you won't safe-word, mainly because you're a pig-headed asshole, but also because for some reason you think you deserve to suffer and want to be engulfed by the flames of hell. If Jennifer gets through this she'll need you. If I do this to you you'll be out of action for days. Use your brain, for Gods sake!'
'I'm not going home.' My lips were set in a stubborn line, and there would be no changing my opinion. I needed to do this. I'd made a bargain.
'No. I won't do this.' Her voice was a tiny whisper, and it was perhaps the first time I'd seen Sophia lose control. I'd never even seen her upset before. Angry when I displeased her, yes - but never upset. It was her strength that I had greatly admired.
'Yes. You can.' She was not backing out on me now. If I'd endured all she'd thrown at me for this damn whipping, the least she could do was deliver the thing. It was too bad if she felt guilty at this late stage in the game because I was not going home. 'Besides, the witches will never forgive you if you curtail their evening before they've had their fair share of fun.' I smiled at her, but the usual sardonic gleam was back in my eyes.
'Mark, promise me you'll use your safe word.' This was probably as close to begging as Sophia would ever get. It was almost endearing.
'I make a point of not making promises I don't intend to keep.' I grinned at her. I couldn't help it.
Gripping a handful of my hair and pulling me upright she said, 'You know I can't go easy on you out there.' She eyeballed me to get the point home, but I was already well aware of the fact.
'I've played my part in this bargain. Now it's your turn to play yours.' I raised an eyebrow at her in challenge.
She growled at me. 'Don't push your luck, young man.' Then she sighed. 'Well, I guess it's time to get you naked again, isn't it?'
Twenty minutes later I found myself strung up to Sophia's whipping post. I'd been given some water and a couple of energy bars, and she'd watched me to make sure I ate and drank everything in sight. She needn't have bothered. I was ravenous. I also knew I needed a hell of a lot of energy to get through this last round, if I wanted to do so with any dignity. The chances were slim on that score regardless, but a little food inside me wouldn't hurt.
'Are you ready to begin?' Sophia's voice purred into my ear and sent shivers up my spine. I nodded in reply.
'Want something to bite on?' I heard her footsteps tapping across the floor as she moved to stand in front of me. In her left hand she held a black ball gag and in her right a five-inch by two-inch piece of wood I was very familiar with.
'You kept it.' There was surprise in my voice.
'Of course I kept it. It's one of my few souvenirs of your time here. I was thinking of getting it framed for my bedroom.'
Never quite sure if Sophia was joking or not, I gave her a wink in return. 'I'm sure it will look lovely above your bed.'
She studied me carefully as she waited for her answer, her eyes scanning along my outstretched left arm to my right, and then down my body, lingering on my cock before she arrived at my tethered feet. The whipping post was a simple affair really, just a tall, adjustable, black metal frame that was fitted with numerous eyelets for rope. Sophia loves rope. Her favourite is the harsh, abrasive hemp rope that will leave marks when her victims struggle. She took her time tying me up, looping the rope over my wrists and ankles several times, although I knew she wasn't worried about the possibility of my escape. Still, each little torment she provided had its own brand of charm, I thought. Tomorrow I would be left with several reminders of my time here, and I found that under intense strain, pain sometimes helped me to concentrate. It was worth a try.
'You know I don't want it now.' I shook my head. 'Let me take the first few lashes without anything. When I begin screaming you can shut me up like you usually do.'
'Looking forward to it.' She gave me a dark look. 'You absolutely sure you want to do this?'
'I've been looking forward to this part all evening. As to the other bits, we'll talk about that later.' I meant what I said. Whilst I knew this was her show, I thought she'd taken more than a few liberties with me. I wondered if it had been to try and dissuade me from what I was about to do. If that was the case, it was too bad. There was no changing my mind now.
'Will we now? If I do my job properly the only thing you'll be doing later is sobbing your heart out.' She gave me one of her imperious looks, but I was far from cowed by it.
'Now you and I know that's not going to happen, darling.' There was every chance I might scream, but I drew the line at sobbing.
'More's the pity,' Sophia couldn't help adding, whilst rolling her eyes.
'And yes, I think I'm ready. Go and get the witches and tell them you're about to beat the crap out of me. That'll put a smile on their faces.' I smiled darkly.
'You're not funny,' Sophia said, but she'd already turned her back on me and was walking towards the door. Either she was anxious to get started or desperate to get it over with. I spent the next few minutes trying to figure out which of the two it was.
Sophia didn't make me wait long. In fairly short order there was a parade of latex and high heels making their way around me, and they all sat down in silence with the minimum of fuss. They were clearly eager to get on with the show. There was nothing a dominatrix liked seeing better than a man brought to his knees, and I suspected I'd give them a reasonably good show. Time would tell. For now their attention was focused on me, and there it would stay for the next twenty minutes or so.
Entering behind the rest, my eyes fell to Sophia. She'd redone her make-up and hair. Fresh coral lipstick graced her lips, which went beautifully with the red hair that she'd piled up on top of her head. When you were swinging a whip around you didn't want to get anything in your eyes, trust me.
The first thing she did was walk slowly around me, checking that the ropes held me snugly. There was little chance I was going to fall through them, but I knew better than to tell her so. When she was confident that everything was as it should be she dimmed the ceiling lights, placing a large solo spotlight upon my body. It bathed me in warm, orange light. There was nothing like being the centre of attention, right? On the plus side, I could barely see anyone now. The room had suddenly become a whole lot smaller, and it was better that way. It would help me concentrate.
Sophia began her scene by running her gloved hands gently all over my body, a seductive, sensory exploration that gradually evolved as the seconds ticked by. At first it was nothing more than her fingers skimming lightly around my chest, thighs or buttocks. Then the caresses became firmer, more fluid and they increased in pace. My cock responded accordingly. The next stage involved little taps of her hands that slowly increased in speed and weight until they were full blown slaps. These, she interspersed with tweaks and twists of her fingers, pinching my nipples, ass, and any other areas of flesh that she could manage to grab enough of.
It didn't take her long to work me up into a state of fervour. My hands began clutching tightly at the ropes and I found myself straining for her touch, my cock tapping rhythmically against my stomach in encouragement. There wer
e a few little sniggers and giggles in the audience as she performed for the crowd, but I barely heard them. I was awash in sensation. There was a rhythmic beat in my head that felt each touch and magnified it twofold. It was as if every pore of my skin was open and absorbing the electricity of her touch.
It was ironic that this was perhaps the first time in my life I was actually enjoying being dominated. There was a unique headspace that it provided which I had never fully appreciated before. Don't get me wrong, I had always enjoyed myself to some degree or other, whether I resented Sophia's control over me or not. That was half the fun of it for her at the beginning. She loved watching me being bent in a direction that my mind didn't want to take. I found a taste for the same thing after I left her. It was the power trip, I guess. Manipulating someone into obeying every word you said was quite the aphrodisiac, believe me.
When her hands finally left my body I felt instantly bereft. There was a profound pause in which she did nothing but circle me, her eyes searing into mine, sizing me up as if she was trying to pluck the thoughts out of my head, one by one. If you're going to let yourself be dominated, you want to make sure that the person behind the whip can read you. The dance is a delicate one, but you need that connection and I have never been able to settle for anything less. It's a bit like a game of chess, I guess. You need to play with someone who will not only beat you, but who can annihilate you in ten moves or less. Put it this way, that's the way I've played the game and that's how Sophia and I began, all those years ago. It wasn't the same relationship now. Now, if I wanted to, I could beat her, although I'd be the first to admit it wouldn't be easy. Snap out of it Mark, you're daydreaming.
My attention was recaptured when Sophia picked up the Cat. The leather sparkled under the bright light and she caressed it as she began advancing towards me. It was a thing of beauty. It was the reason I had stuck around amid all those rabid women, some of whom, quite frankly, scared the shit out of me.
Sophia lifted the handle of the leather whip to my lips, and I kissed it reverently. Old habits die hard. The smell of leather polish brought a flood of memories back. I remembered the first time I'd been whipped, and the aftermath in which I'd walked out on her. It had taken me two weeks to go back, when I should have stayed away. Mind you, if I hadn't gone back I'd have never managed to work my way up to where I was today, so I would always be thankful to Sophia in one way or another. She managed to put me in a position where I was no longer reliant on anyone, and never would be ever again.
'Are you ready, darling?' she whispered in my ear. She'd have never said it out loud, because in front of her friends I was nothing more than a 'slave' or 'pet'. When we were alone things weren't quite so black and white. Well they weren't then, anyway. I nodded my head imperceptibly, knowing she'd catch the movement.
'So, pet, do you remember the rules?'
This she said for the benefit of the crowd, but I'd known it was coming. Taking a deep breath I lifted my head high and with a loud voice I said, 'I'm allowed to yell, I'm allowed to scream, I'm even allowed to cry. What I must never do is give up.' It was good advice for just about all avenues of life, and the old adage that pain makes you stronger had some weight to it. At least, I thought it did.
Sophia made some kind of hand signal and the dungeon door opened once again, this time admitting a long string of servants, all of whom bore flickering orange candles. One by one they placed them in a large circle around us, and the eerie glow they imparted had an almost hypnotic effect on me. My eyes were drawn to the dancing flames and I barely noticed as the servants formed an orderly line and filed silently from the room.
When the door closed I snapped out of my trance. Pulling my head back up I took serious note of the ring of light around me and felt a moment of dread. The words 'human sacrifice' sprang to mind, and I hoped I hadn't signed up for anything more than I'd previously bargained on. All we needed were some drums and then we could start throwing some blood around. Oh, wait, Sophia would be doing that in a minute, with mine. Fuck.
My heart rate went wild as I waited for the first stroke to crash down. It was a long time since I'd been whipped. I wondered if I'd embarrass myself by breaking down almost as soon as it had begun. The thing is, you forget pain. Time has a way of dulling its memory into something bearable, but at the time it's usually anything but. Please let me be strong, I chanted to myself. Over and over I repeated the phrase as I waited for that first lash to strike my back.
They always make you wait for the first one. A good dominant knows that the anticipation, dread, and fear will curdle in your stomach, until adrenaline and arousal turn it into something almost unrecognisable. Sophia was going to time the moment perfectly. I knew this, because she always did, and just when I thought I could wait no longer a ferocious whistling sound rang through the air. It was time to grit my teeth and embrace the ropes that bound me.
Sophia didn't go easy on me. As the first blow came crashing down the next was already following in its wake. My breath caught in my throat and the shock numbed me for a second or two as my head tried to come to terms with what was happening behind me.
It was as if lightning bolts arced through the air and struck several vital organs at once. It's hard to compare it to anything else. 'Intense' pain doesn't begin to describe it. As the third lash landed I thought I would end up begging for her to stop before it had barely begun. My legs began to falter on the fifth blow and I had to tell myself to stand up straight and endure. I needed to focus on something. Anything. The white-hot pain was mind-bending. It was absolution and it was freedom. It was also excruciating and agonising in the extreme. Each fresh stripe was indelibly printed upon my brain and there it would remain forever. Holy fuck. Get it together. This is what you came for. Gripping the ends of the ropes in my fingertips as tightly as I could I tried to take some solace in history.
I think the Romans introduced the Cat, but back then it was called a Scourge. Actually, it might have been the Egyptians. They were evil bastards too. Anyway, back to the Romans. They weren't content with knotted rope and a few metal beads. Oh no. They purposefully put razor blades through the rope, with the idea of shredding a victim's back to bloody ribbons. It was one of the ways they prepared a condemned prisoner for their death. Nice bunch, the Romans.
My thoughts left me as a particularly vicious blow sent me sprawling, and I sucked in fiery air as my legs flailed around, trying to right themselves. I heard Sophia yell 'Nine,' and I wanted to scream that I was not going to make ten. Gritting my teeth tightly, somehow I held it together as the Cat and its malevolent nine tendrils wrapped around me again. A spiteful embrace of leather, rope and metal.
I swear you can smell skin, when it breaks. There's a tang of something metallic on the air, perhaps iron or copper, and when you breathe it in it makes you want to choke or vomit. It's not just the blood though. It's as if something vital has been exposed to the air. Sweat, fat, protein and something like ozone. It's just a peculiar smell that I can't quite put my finger on. Perhaps that's just me. Having your skin break under the Cat isn't the problem though - it's being beaten again on that raw flesh that will send you crazy. My head lolled down to my chest as I thought my back might explode. Sophia had tried to warn me. Why did I have to be such a stubborn prick? Go back to your Romans, Matthews. Anything to distract me from the flames of hell that were consuming my back.
Being scourged was a form of torture back in those days, unless you hadn't guessed, and the requisite number of lashes was forty. I was facing nothing like that here. The Cat behind me was a baby compared to what some people over the years had been subjected to. The shock of the scourge would often cause death, which was probably a blessing in disguise if you were strung up to a pillar and waiting to be executed. For those prisoners who were unfortunate enough to survive the ordeal, the Romans threw salt on their wounds as they were led from the whipping post, in order to make it an extra special experience.
My thoughts went blank then, because I b
egan screaming. There was no avoiding it, as much as I wanted to. Five lashes on a lacerated back will do that to even the most hardened of men, take my word for it. Hold it together, Matthews. Clamping my teeth together so hard I thought they would break, I tried to bottle up the noise my lungs so desperately wanted to expel. I hated the thought of the witches hearing my pain, but pride was only going to get me so far in this game. When the next lash came my body buckled under the weight of it and I damn near swallowed my tongue trying to keep a lid on my screams. Help me out here, Sophia, I pleaded.
The woman can read my mind, I swear. Pausing for a moment she came around in front of me with the piece of wood she'd offered me earlier. Now she simply slotted it between my teeth. Thank fuck. Now I had something to bite on the screams might be a little easier to quell. That, and she'd probably saved me from a hefty dentist's bill later. We'd soon find out.
There was a pause as Sophia repositioned herself behind me and my blood went cold as I got ready for her to begin again. Although I'd reminded myself over and over again that I could safe-word, it didn't seem like much of an atonement if I wimped out in the middle of it. Besides, if Jennifer didn't make it through this mess I would never forgive myself. I'd promised myself I would take all Sophia could give, and the woman was going to get her money's worth this evening. Let her live. Let her live. I hoped somebody up there was listening. I honestly didn't know what else I could do.
The next stroke that cracked against my skin had lights dancing in front of my eyes. My legs went out from under me again, and this time they refused to cooperate when I tried to stand. The Cat sliced into my back again and my arms lost their hold on the ropes. A whip can break a man, but the pain could also reinvent him. I needed Jennifer. I'd been broken for so long I don't know how I hadn't realised it myself. It was time to put the pieces back together.
The Velvet Caress Page 15