Chapter 23 Boyz in the Ho part I
We walked out down the hall. Once inside, I pleaded again, "Sir, I need to be restrained, please tie me up. I want you to hurt me, so I can forget the emotional pain." My voice was quivering and tearing up, and sniffling.
He just nodded and led me to the winch in the middle of the room and lowered it with the remote. I stood nearly shaking under it while he got rope. He made noose with the rope and tied it around my neck and the hook of the winch, then lifted it until I was on my tiptoes.
I was half-choking, and if I went flat-footed, I would be choking. Daddy used a length of rope to tie my hands up to the rope above my head. He put S shaped hooks through my nipple rings and began loading them with weights.
When he was done, he showed me the bullwhip. I gasped audibly when he did. I had never really been whipped like Lori had. I suddenly remembered something she had just said on the recording, 'I was suddenly afraid of what I had asked for,' but I still felt I needed. I needed to feel this pain because the other pain of jealousy and resentment was worse. It was I realized now the combination of reviving her betrayal, added to what felt like at least symbolic treachery on his part.
He was going to literally put this stranger above me, despite his proclaimed love for me. I knew that it was not the same thing at all, but it felt connected. I was hoping he would break that connection with violent pain he was about to inflict on me. And, I wanted it to be totally separate from this slut coming to take my man.
But I was also doing this for him. He wanted to punish me for what he was about to do to me, and I had to let him do it. I had to beg him to do it, so he could maintain the fiction. I had to make it both painful for me and easy for him to betray me. Feel its weight, and let him do it. He was about to begin, and I realized something.
"Daddy, I know you would like to mark me, and I do too, but I just remember about the Samuelsons. They might be put off, if they can see."
"You are right as usual, Sissy. I will concentrate on your ass and back. Don't get a backless dress, heeheehee! Now, beg me to mark you as mine, Sissy."
"Please, Sir. Mark your property, please whip me hard, Sir!"
"I am not going to gag you, bitch. I want to hear scream, tonight. There's no count I will strike until I'm satisfied, but you must beg for every lash to be harder than the previous."
"Please, Sir. Strike me hard!" The pain of that first lash was unbelievable; I instantly fell off my toes and began choking on the noose. I let myself be choked by it to help the pain ease before pulling myself back up to my tiptoes. "Thank you, Sir for striking, please whip me again harder."
I said this, but I couldn't imagine that it could hurt any more than it already did, boy was I wrong. The second lash was tempered only by the fact that first one was still hurting. I screamed and grunted loudly and again I let myself go flat-footed and choked, before I could respond.
"Holy, Fuck! Sir! That was so incredibly painful! Thank you, Sir for letting me feel such intense pain. Please may I have another even harder. This time I meant it. As painful as it was, and as unbearable as it felt, I just gave myself into it and found that I wanted more. I held on to the thought of how he would enjoy it. Whipping me as contrived punishment was one thing, but whipping because I begged for it.
I could see just how much from the set of his jaw as he positioned me for the next strike. He struck me again twice in quick succession. I think it might have been harder, but I couldn't say if the pain was any more or less. I answered with the usual formula, again after briefly hanging myself, to take the edge off.
He moved down my back and was hitting my ass now. I was spending a lot less time on tiptoes than flat on my feet and choking. After one hit where I almost passed out, I begged Daddy to strike my asshole and my clitty. "I want to only think of this pain and you when those guys are fucking me later, Sir." I knew he loved that kind of thing, and it was true. While he was "making love" to that whore, I wanted to be chastened by pain even as I was pounded out by all their cocks.
He complied with my request and struck me several times right on my asshole. To get my clit, he had me widen my stance on tiptoe so that I was choking the whole time he was swatting it. That was the most painful yet, and were it not for the fact that I was nearly unconscious I would not have been able to endure it. He ended with some swats of my tits with the crop, which seemed not very much, after what I had just experienced.
He was seemingly thinking of what else he could do, when the intercom buzzer went off. "The boys are here," I thought. He lowered the winch, I assumed he was letting me down, but he only untied my hands and then lifted up, so that again I had to be on the very tips of my toes to keep from strangling myself. Then he caressed my breast and kissed me gently on the lips.
"You know I love you, Michelle. Despite what's about to happen. I hope the pain holds you, this should be emotionally painful. You just need to bear it a few days." Then he kissed me more passionately and walked out.
As I hung there sometimes slipping and feeling like I might just asphyxiate, I thought about the whole sequence of events tonight and the fact that he had wanted this. He had wanted to get me to beg him to strike me in advance. This was part of his plan to show this bitch a good to time so as to get her back in line.
It was one of those situations where one is surprised, but not surprised. The thing that made him great at this was his ability to read and manipulate people. He might have asked me to do it, but that would not have served his purpose secondary purposes. I would have instantly agreed, of course; I
am
submissive sissy bitch, after all. But he wanted me in exactly this emotional and physical state when she got here.
Clearly, though he had made it seem like the whole thing was "spur of the moment," "urgent care needed," this was very likely planned well in advance. She was married to some politician in Washington. Mr. Jenkin's inviolable rule about cuckolding was that the cuck must be present. And, they couldn't just disappear for almost of a week. And this was the long weekend of MLK day. Washington would be closed down. God damn it! He'd done this to me again.
I actually stamped my foot almost losing my balance and actually hanging myself, when he walked back in, carrying a pair of my high heeled stilettos. He had a wicked smile on his face, just like that time in his office when he first proposed he'd take my wife.
As soon as he saw my face, he knew, I knew. The fucking thing was: he had probably counted on this too, which made it even more frustrating. He knew I would figure it out at some point, which is why he kept me busy every minute since I got home. He threw me off balance with the Lori tape, warned me ominously at the last moment of what was happening, then maneuvered me into demanding exactly what he wanted to do.
And now he was ready for me to know. "Aah! Sissy, you know I don't say this ever, but I am genuinely sorry. It had to be done; you figured it out, so you know it's true." He was putting the shoes on my feet as he said this. He looked up at me sheepishly, as if he had done some little mischievous thing for which I should just forgive him.
"It's Joe and the cuck couple. The boys will be along in just a bit. You need to stay hanging just 'til they get here. Don't be upset by whatever I say to them. You are still my special sissy girl? Honey?"
