It took until about mid-day before he finally felt like his normal self. He'd been in a fog all morning, the pain from all of the attention to his peter distracting him. He knew he wasn't quite sharp when he failed to answer the questions posed by Professor James in History, something he should have, did! know but wasn't quick enough to respond.
Sitting in the cafeteria, getting ready for his next class he suddenly realized he hadn't brought all of the materials he needed for the following day's debate. His first thought was to just go back to his room at the men's house and pick it up, but the deal he'd struck with the two houses was he wouldn't return before the week was up.
It wasn't like him to cheat on a deal, but this was crazy. If he didn't have his notes, he'd let his team down. His mind raced through the possibilities, sneak in through the back door and up the back stairs -- he'd have to pass by John's room, he'd be screwed. Monday. First Monday! First Monday night almost no one would be at the house -- what was it this month...a movie. That was it. They'd be at the movie house. He gathered his books, dropped the tray on the conveyor and left for class, relieved he had pulled himself together.
It was after dark when he approached the house, concerned he'd be seen in spite of it being empty. Still, he chose to go in through the back door and up the back stairs. If anyone was home, they'd likely be in their rooms, or in the front room. Carefully opening the door and closing it behind him, he softly moved through the darkened kitchen. Stopping at the bottom of the service stairs he listened for any sounds of televisions or conversation. Hearing nothing, he moved quickly up to the first landing, stopping again to listen.
His heart pounded at the sound of something, a noise from upstairs. He calmed his breathing and listened. Something, but he couldn't tell what. Someone was home, that was certain. He waited, debating what to do: it was likely nobody who cared about his deal, but if it was, he'd be in a lot of trouble. It was likely they wouldn't even know he was there -- he'd just keep going to his room and quietly leave again.
Still scared, he continued more slowly up the next set of stairs to the 2
nd
floor landing. The sounds were louder now -- voices and...a woman's cry! He froze, staring down the hallway from the open doorway, listening -- a slant of light coming from a room down the way. There it was again! A cry for help! Sobbing! Chester moved quickly toward the sound, keeping as quiet as possible, until he could tell which room it was coming from. John's!
"No! Please! I'm sorry. Yes! I'll do better! I will. I will. Please. Just...noooooohhhh...OHHH!"
And then a slap! They were hitting her! Shaken, he didn't know which way to go -- to just leave, get his things and run, or see if he could intervene. He couldn't live with himself if he left her -- he had to see what was going on. As softly as he could, he peeked through the opening in the door. He didn't know what to expect, but the scene in the room was beyond anything he could have imagined.
John and Millard were smoking! Smoking in the house! It was one of the rules they could get expelled for! He took a whiff and realized they weren't smoking cigarettes! Pot! They were smoking pot! Before he could completely comprehend the idea, his eyes locked onto a young woman, her back to him, dressed only in her bra and panties (he noted their design immediately, and unconsciously registered she was well brought up, conservative, and uninventive). As he took another look, he gasped. Her hands were tied above her head, held there by ropes attached to two hooks in the ceiling. Her legs were spread behind her, and she was leaning at an angle away from him.
Millard looked up at the noise and before Chester could get away, he grabbed him by the shoulder. "Hey, John, lookee here! It's our friend Chester! Chester, you faggot. What are you doing in the house?" Millard dragged him in.
"No!" The woman gasped, trying to look away. "No."
John looked to her and then to Chester, smiling grimly. "Well, well. Isn't this an unpleasant surprise. Have a seat, Chester. We'll deal with you in a moment."
He slumped into a chair near the door and waited, looking up at the woman. Something about her, her voice, her build. He knew her. Who was it?
"So, Catherine, one of your girlfriends is here. Shall we have a little party?"
Catherine! But...what? What was she doing here? And like this?
"He looks a little surprised. Any reason he should be surprised to see you like this? Don't you share your secrets with all the girls?" John moved behind her, raised his hand and slapped her ass cheeks, the sound echoing in the room with her cry of pain. "We asked you to do us a small favor. We told you what the consequences would be if you disobeyed us, and now, it appears you've decided to test our will. Is that it?"
"No," she gasped between sobs. "No. I told you what I had heard. I had no idea Roxie was seeing someone else. I swear it!"
Chester panicked at the implications, his heart racing.
"But," Millard said menacingly, "but you knew something was up. You said it yourself." He moved over to her and unsnapped her bra, letting her breasts swing down. He pulled the straps and cups up over her head out of the way.
Chester saw now that she was stretched across the edge of a table at about 60 degrees. From where he was, he could just see the edge of her breasts and a single nipple. He could see tears streaming down her face.
"No. Please. Don't. What are you doing?"
Millard was fiddling with some kind of black box on the table -- visible to Catherine but not to Chester. Eventually, he pulled a red wire from it, with some kind of metal clip on the end. He held her breast and clipped it to her nipple. She screamed in pain and tried to struggle, but the way she was trussed up, she couldn't move.
Chester turned his face away, the image of her agony causing a strange reaction in him.
"Chester!" John commanded. "Get over here."
He shook his head, not wanting to comply.
"Mother fucker. Get your candy ass over here. You're a girl, right?"
He shook his head again, but found himself walking over to John's side.
"You know Ms. Cruline, right?" John pulled Catherine's face to the side, forcing her to look at Chester.
He nodded, asking her silently if there was anything he could do. At that moment, Millard held her left breast and attached a second clip to that nipple. She screamed the moment she felt his hand on her breast, but John held her head, facing him.
"Now, now, Catherine. You know you want this. Obviously you must have wanted it, or you wouldn't have misbehaved, right?" He made her look up at him, his eyes cold. "Tell Chester you want it. He's a little scared we're hurting you."
She tried to turn her eyes away, her sobs wracking her body. Between gasps, she opened her mouth. "It's...it's okay...Chester. John's right. It's... what I expected."
He let her head go and she cried openly.
Chester stared at the clamps on her nipples, her breasts hanging free, the wires going to the black box.
