The Armoire

A little further than I would normally want to go but this guy's stuff was supposedly the finest handmade furniture in the area and it was a beautiful day. I am still a bit baffled as to why Kristel would help me but, the moment she heard that I was looking to have a custom built armoire, she told me of this artisan named Darquesied. Seems his craftsmanship is second to none and he is in such great demand that he "consults" by appointment only. Again Kristel helped, insisting on making the appointment on my behalf. Considering that, in the four years I had worked for her at Mitchell's, Kristel had never spoken to me other than to criticize or berate, this sudden urge to assist was indeed surprising.

Finally, there's the mailbox with "Sam Darquesied" printed on its face. The drive from the city took almost an hour but the countryside was lovely and, hopefully, Darquesied's unrivaled workmanship would make the trip worthwhile.

The driveway is long and graveled and cuts through a picturesque fenced pasture. Obviously this fellow does okay for himself. The road suddenly turns to pavement and I can see buildings. The house is quite nice. Larger than I expected and kind of rich looking in a retro farmhouse sort of way. There are two barns, both pristine; painted red with grey roofs. There's a tall, burly man standing on the porch. Looks to be about fifty or so but ruggedly handsome. I park and get out of the car.

"Mr. Darquesied?"

"Yes." He answers. "You're Sylvia?"

"Yes"

"Okay. As per your phone call you would like the scenario to begin immediately; correct?"

Scenario? I guess extraordinary craftsmanship goes hand in hand with eccentricity so if that's what he calls looking at furniture samples than so be it.

"That would be fine."

Then he says; "And remember the word."

"The word?" I ask, more than a little confused.

"'Philadelphia'! Don't forget it."

What the heck is he jabbering about? This guy appears to be more than a little eccentric but I learned a long time ago that patronization is the key to dealing.

"I won't forget."

"And Chicago too"; he adds.

Chicago? Maybe there's going to be a test later?

"Okay... so if you would just come with me to the shop..."

As we walk towards one of the barns I see that Darquesied has what appears to be a folded black blanket in his hand. Curious I ask; "What's that?"

Matter-of-factly he answers; "It's a black canvas bag."

He opens a small door to the barn and graciously motions that I enter first. I am amazed at the cleanliness of the interior--more like a studio than a barn--and the strange equipment and racks and... suddenly everything goes dark! It happens so fast. Something has been pulled over my head and down to my feet. It's the black canvas bag! I scream and curse but I am so flustered it is nothing but gibberish. I am completely and utterly afraid.

I can feel the cord at the bottom of the bag being tightened around my ankles. The bag is loose. I can move my arms but I cannot see a thing. I feel strong hands fumbling around my head and try to use my free hands to fend him off but then a rope pulls part of the bag into my mouth and is quickly tightened. He wasn't fumbling; he was feeling for the position of my face. Suddenly all is quiet. I push at the bag but realize I may fall over. I relax a bit to regain my composure, dropping my arms. I feel another rope suddenly placed around my midsection and pinning my arms. This one is pulled extremely tight. Then I feel his hands on my shoulders and he pulls me back sharply causing me to fall. He has guided my fall so I don't hit hard but now I'm on the floor.

I feel him taking the sneakers off my sockless feet and kick a bit but I have no leverage so the kicks are weak and useless. Now I feel something being wrapped around my ankle. Like a belt maybe but wider; one on each ankle. Now something is clipped to the straps and again all becomes quite. I stop screaming and listen... there is a whirring sound.

My feet are being slowly lifted off the floor. Higher and higher then I am dragged a bit as the rest of my body is hoisted. I am now hanging completely off the floor. I picture a swordfish hanging on a hook at a Florida pier--some fisherman's trophy. It suddenly occurs... this man is going to kill me.

The rope around my middle is abruptly loosened and removed. I can feel him undoing the cord holding the bottom of the canvas bag at my ankles. The bag is pulled all the way down to the rope in my mouth. My arms are free! I start lashing out but hit nothing. I try to remove the rope in my mouth but my right hand is grabbed and a rough twine is looped around my wrist and sharply pulled tight. Now he pulls my arm straight to the right and fastens the twine to something; holding my arm in place. He grabs my left arm and wraps something on the wrist which feels similar to what is on my ankles. He pulls my arm straight down and secures it to something on the floor. Now he wraps a similar belt to my other wrist; cuts the twine and repeats the procedure from the left arm. I am now hanging feet straight up and arms straight down. Through all of this he has not said a word.

I feel Darquesied loosening the rope in my mouth. The bag falls and now I can finally see. Darquesied has a black hood over his head and as I open my mouth to protest he forces a black ball gag in and secures the straps behind my head. He immediately reaches for my blouse. I expect him to rip it open but instead he carefully unbuttons it, slides it down my arms and to the floor over the rubber bungee cords clipped to my leather bracelets. I am a little embarrassed that I am not wearing a bra. Still he does not speak.

He reaches up and undoes the button on my jeans and opens the zipper. He roughly forces the jeans up to my knees. I am screaming but the ball gag converts the sound to a muffled whimper. He pulls my panties up to the jeans leaving me essentially naked. I'd be blushing if I wasn't already flush from hanging upside down for so long. Darquesied then reaches for a long slim yellow rod and moves so that his mouth is beside my head. For the first time he speaks, in a whisper.

"This is an electric cattle prod. I need to use it on you one time so you know how it feels. If you cooperate you will not feel it again."

His tone is not so much threatening as... business like.

"Are you ready?" he says.

I hear a muffled "No" emerge from the ball gag, almost as if someone else said it. I feel the prod touch against my butt. As I begin to protest a sudden excruciating pain engulfs my body. Every muscle spasms and I bite down hard on the ball. I feel my lungs gasp in a huge amount of air and I believe my heart may have stopped for a moment. I let out a scream that even the ball gag cannot suppress. I have never, ever felt such pain. I am suddenly aware of something else. I feel moisture between my legs. What the hell is that? I just suffered the worst pain of my life and I'm aroused? What's wrong with me?

I hear that whirring sound again and see that it is a winch device that has hoisted me up. As the cables slacken I am lowered to the floor. Darquesied walks over to me, cattle prod in hand. He stoops closer and, in that businesslike tone, whispers; "Cooperation is key here. Fighting back will result in a second sampling of the prod only this time it will be longer. Your choice."

Fearing that a second even longer encounter with the prod might actually kill me I nod my head in compliance. He unclips the cables from my ankles and reclips them to my wrists and vice versa with the bungee straps. Darquesied walks to the winch and the whirring begins. I feel the cables begin to move and hoist me up. In a moment I am again stretched; this time arms straight up and legs straight down.

He walks over and, grabbing my jeans at the cuffs, pulls them over my feet and down to the floor over the bungees. Same for the panties. Now I really am naked in front of this stranger. It suddenly occurs to me that this is a fairly elaborate method of undressing me while keeping me restrained. All without damaging my clothing. Why would someone who is going to kill me go through so much effort to preserve my clothes?

The whirring sound begins again and I am lowered to the floor. He walks over and holds the prod in front of me--as a reminder. He puts the prod under his arm then unclips the cables from my arm bracelets and the bungees from my ankles. Pointing to a barrel near the wall he whispers; "Please walk over there."

I am angry with myself that I am not fighting more but the memory of the prod experience has taken the fight out of me, at least for a while. As I walk towards the barrel I see that it is not just a regular barrel. Laying on its side it is securely mounted to the floor. It sits in the centre of four posts, each about ten or twelve feet apart and all with cables wound up on spools near the bottom. There is leather or vinyl covered seat attached to the barrel. Darquesied points the prod towards the seat and motions for me to sit.

He goes to one of the posts behind me and brings the cable forward clipping it to the leather bracelet on my right wrist. He repeats the procedure from the other post to my left wrist bracelet. He does the same with the cables on the posts in front attaching one each to my ankles. He moves close and whispers; "Lay back now and try to keep the small of your back at the top of the cushion."

I look up at him wanting to ask why but he reaches for the prod so I follow his instructions. He walks to the posts behind me and the familiar whirring begins. The cables on my wrists tighten pulling my arms up over my head towards the posts. I fight them a bit but it is pointless against the power of the electric winches. He walks to the posts in front and starts those winches pulling my feet off the ground. My legs are pulled towards the posts spreading me apart. I begin to fear the strong cables may pull my limbs off but, mercifully, the whirring stops. I am now tightly spread eagled and arched over the barrel. A feeling of helplessness, like I have never experienced, moves through me like a wave. Again I am aware of moisture between my legs. Damn! I have fantasized about this kind of thing before but I never wanted it to actually happen. At least I haven't given him the satisfaction of crying.

That must be what it is. This bastard gets his jollies from hurting helpless women. He feels powerful when he has a woman restrained like this; unable to fight back. I close my eyes and in my head I am shouting; "I will not cry!"

I feel a funny sensation on my skin and open my eyes to find him spraying some kind of oil on me—message oil maybe. He covers me from my neck to the bottom of my feet. He leans close and whispers; "You cannot comprehend how beautiful you look right now. You remind me of the girl in 'American Beauty'." His tone is gentle and sounds... genuinely loving.

My ex boyfriend once said I looked like the blonde in that movie only I had "way better boobs". I find myself blushing at the compliment. I realize that a photo of me right now would look pretty erotic. My hair is blonde and fairly long. I think I have a pretty nice body and at this time of the year I sport a good tan. I lift my head and see that I am shiny and glistening in the lights. I see Darquesied approaching; in his hand he carries what appears to be a small pony's tail.

He holds it where I can see and whispers; "This is a horse hair flogger."

The word flogger continues to ring in my head as he lowers the hair onto my tummy and slowly drags it up to my neck. It actually feels nice on my oily skin, tickling a little bit. He moves it all around my body. Stroking my chest; around then across my breasts; back over my tummy and down the outside of my leg then back up the inside. When he pulls it between my legs and slowly over my vagina I involuntarily shudder. I am thankful for the oil as it most likely masks the wetness I can feel inside me. Under different circumstances this would be very pleasant. I am a little disappointed as he moves the flogger off my body.

He begins to whip me lightly with the hair of the flogger. The blows sting a little but the result is a tingly electric feel. He is rhythmic, contacting my skin about every two seconds. He starts on my tummy left to right then the opposite. Left to right then right to left. He repeats this on my side, just above my hip and moves up to my armpits and upper arms. He reverses the process on my other side, moving from my upper arm down my side to the side of my butt then down the outside of my leg to the bottom of my foot. My heart begins to race and I can hear myself moan with each blow. "Ohh... ahhh". Left to right then right to left.

There is a short reprieve while he moves to my other side. Then he continues from my armpit down. The blows are a bit harder now and I begin to feel my heart pound faster. Once he reaches the bottom of my foot he continues back up but this time on the inside of my leg. "Ohh... ahhh". Left to right... right to left. As he reaches the top of my inner thigh my moans have become short and rapid and my heart is attempting to beat itself out of my chest. He hits squarely on my vagina and begins to strike quicker. Left to right... right to left, left to right... right to left. "Oh... Oh... Ah... Ah...". The blood is pounding in my head and I can feel an orgasm building within that's going to cause some damage! Then he stops.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh... Bastard"; I scream but I doubt he could make out what I said... other than the long moan.

My head is spinning but through the fog I hear Darquesied's soft whisper; "Don't forget Chicago. It's better if I know."

I feel dizzy and disoriented and I am breathing heavily. The near orgasm is subsiding slowly but it's still there. Why did he stop when he did? Judging by his obvious skill you'd think he'd know when a woman is about to orga... "OW!" I feel a sharp, painful smack on the sole of my foot. I strain to lift my head and can see him holding a riding crop. He doesn't have to explain this one. He smacks again; this time on the ball of my foot just below my toes. "OW!" Again on the sole of my foot. Smack! Smack! Smack! Alternating between the sole and the ball; the blows are rapid and painful. They send what feels like electric shocks up my legs.

Without slowing he moves to the back of my knee. Smack! Smack! Smack! Even the sound seems to sting. "Ow... OW". Through the ball gag it sounds more like "Uh". My heart is racing again and I'm getting dizzy. I seem to hear the blood pumping hard in my head. He moves quickly to the inside of my thigh and continues the smacks. This pain is shooting through my whole body and again my breath is short and rapid. The orgasm has begun to rise again just as strong as before and I know there's no stopping this one.

Suddenly he shifts from my thighs and smacks once on the spot between my vagina and anus. This pain is intense and my whole body tightens. I hold my breath as the orgasm starts. It feels like my groin is trying to turn itself inside out with spasm after spasm. He smacks me again. The wetness inside seems like a waterfall. It feels as though I am hanging on to the edge of a tall building. If I let go I will surely perish. Then I let go.

My body isn't relaxing; it is simply letting go. "Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww..." My voice is deep, guttural, and strong, even with the gag. It's a sound I've never made before. The climax is frighteningly powerful and is taking all my strength with it. As the reaction slows I get lightheaded and the room blurs and spins. For a moment I feel nauseous but it passes. The sound I make is much softer than before; "Ohhhhhhhhhh" I feel so weak that I am almost glad I am supported by my restraints. I would not be able to stand if asked to at this moment. But; I felt wonderful... even peaceful.

My mind and vision begin to clear and I notice Darquesied, who has removed his black hood, is standing by my side smiling and looking into my eyes. He obviously enjoyed the show. He leans down and whispers; "Wow... that was very pleasant to see. You're even more beautiful than before. Take a little break now while I go set some stuff up." He kisses me on the cheek, moves to the winch behind me, and slackens the cables a bit. He moves out of my site as I close my eyes and relish in the relief of the looser restraints. I am left to ponder the completely delicious waves of pleasure that wash across my mind as my body continues to relax.

I have to force my mind to remember that I am a prisoner here, spread naked and helpless at the mercy of this man. I am angry with myself that I feel as good as I do. I should be fighting harder against this man whose ultimate intentions are a mystery. Could his intent be to "dispose" of me when he is done? I am confused and frustrated because I realize that if Darquesied was my lover and I was here of my own volition I would be having a blast! He has been gentle and caring; never berating or demeaning. He has called me beautiful and has not attempted intercourse or forced me to service him—so far. It seems ludicrous that this man would hurt me. I am a little surprised that I think that of a man who has just whipped me with a flogger and crop—not to mention the prod.

My musings are abruptly interrupted by my own gasp as hundreds of ice cold needles attack my labia. I open my eyes and see Darquesied holding a water device that is shooting a fine stream at my crotch. It is like a shower head with hundreds of tiny streams but with much more power than a regular shower. I shudder as he moves the stream from the top of my crotch down to my butt and back up. It is quite strong and unbelievably cold. It is a little painful but it also tickles like crazy. I am flailing in my loosened restraints and laughing so uncontrollably that I can hardly catch my breath. He moves the stream away but starts again, this time on my side.

"Stop... STOP"; I scream through the ball gag but the torment continues. He moves the stream up around my breasts then to my armpits, down my side then back up across my breasts. Tears of laughter and anguish are streaming down my face. He moves the stream back down to my crotch then lower to that spot between anus and vagina. If he doesn't let me catch my breath soon I fear I will faint.

As though he read my mind he twists the nozzle and stops the stream. The laughing subsides but my head and heart are pounding as I noisily gulp as much air as I can. I can feel that I am aroused but there is no orgasm on the horizon. Darquesied places some sort of stand between my legs at the knees and attaches the nozzle so that it is fixed and aimed straight at my crotch. He picks up another device that looks like the thing a dentist uses to flush ones mouth—a water pick maybe. This obviously isn't over.

Darquesied twists the nozzle and the stream starts again. I gasp at the sudden, sharp, tickling coldness. I seem to have developed a degree of tolerance as I can't help but laugh but I am more in control. He takes the other device, aims it at my armpit and turns it on. "OH... SHIT" It is a powerful, single, fine stream of ice water that tickles horribly. The laughter is out of control—almost intolerable. He moves the pick in small circles down my side, over my tummy, down a bit then up and draws circles around my breasts.

My arousal is growing but this has to stop. I am able to grab short breaths amidst the laughing but I am getting very light headed and my arms and legs are aching from pulling hard on the restraints.

To my great relief he stops the pick and moves to the stand between my knees, stopping that stream as well. I am able to suck in a lungful of air just as he starts the water pick again; this time straight at my vagina.

"OH SHIT... SHIT... SHIT" He uses his other hand to spread my labia so the water goes right in the hole. The stream is so cold and powerful. My whole body has clenched, pulling hard on the restraints and I hold my breath. I am going to pass out this time I'm sure. The arousal is growing intensely but is offset by the discomfort. Then it stops.