The House of Pain (13 page)

It is Patrick at the door, the guy who tended to me when I was sick. He smiles at me when he sees me, greets me warmly. “Happy New Year, Sara,” he says. “Did you have a good holiday?”

I mumble something. I cried most of my holidays; what do I say?

Patrick helps himself to a beer from Doug’s refrigerator. He’s comfortable in Doug’s kitchen. They are clearly good friends. Doug offers me a beer and I accept a little tentatively. I haven’t eaten breakfast and beer on an empty stomach will go straight to my head.

Doug notices. “Didn’t eat breakfast?” he asks me. I shake my head. He rolls his eyes at me and slices some bread, puts a bowl of chilli in front of me. “Eat,” he orders. I do as I’m told, half-listening to the conversation between Patrick and Doug, who are speculating about their team’s chances in today’s game.  

The doorbell rings again and Patrick wanders away to open the door, leaving Doug and me alone for a minute. I look at him. There’s a world of emotion in my eyes but this isn’t the time. Instead, I simply thank him for the chilli.

He smiles at me, but whatever he is about to say is interrupted by the entering couple.

Oh. Great. It’s James Milner, the COO of the company I work at. I remember Doug mentioning they were old college buddies. He doesn’t look too surprised to see me though. He greets me, his manner friendly. He introduces me to his wife, Alison. “Sara just joined the Marketing department a few months ago,” he explains to his wife.

She is hands-down, the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. She’s a tall blonde, and she also smiles at me warmly. “Hello Sara,” she says, her voice amiable. “I’ve heard so much about you. Are you a fan of football too?” She wrinkles her nose as she says this. She’s clearly not a fan of football.

“Hush, Alison,” James laughs at his wife. “Don’t scare the girl already, it’s her first football game.”

Alia’s dancing around the kitchen in the greatest of excitement; her tail wagging furiously. The doorbell rings again; and she hurtles down the hallway, followed by a laughing Alison.

***

The game is about to start. Everyone wanders into the living room, bowls of chilli in their hands. Doug’s friends seem really nice and normal and I’m slowly beginning to relax.

Everyone crowds into the couches, with some good-natured shoving taking place. Doug pulls me next to him. I’m pressed against his body. Instinctively, I nestle up against him, before I catch myself. I don’t know if my gesture will be welcome.

I close my eyes briefly. In that instant, his body felt so good against mine. I desperately hope we can make this work.

***

Hope rises in me as we settle down to watch the game. I don’t really watch football, and many of the finer points of the game are lost on me. Doug senses my confusion at times, and softly explains what’s going on. At some point in the game, Doug puts his arm around me, pulls me into his body. I nestle there, utterly content.

***

The game is over; everyone takes their leave. And finally, we are alone again, seated on the couch.

“You were saying?” Doug prompts. I was hoping I’d be let off the hook, but I see that’s not likely.

I look at Doug. What I’m about to say is going to take the most courage I’ve displayed in a long time but I’m ready.

“I love you,” I say, looking into Doug’s eyes, not trying to hide. “I’m sorry I ran. Can you forgive me?”

He takes a deep breath. “Of course,” he says automatically. “And I love you too.” He starts to add something, but my emotions have finally overflown, hearing his words. The words are easily spoken as if the conclusion was never in doubt. He sees my reaction, the tears forming in my eyes, and there’s warmth and understanding in his eyes as he pulls me into his body.

“You didn’t know?” he asks. “All those times I kept asking you out, persisting through the countless rejections, you didn’t know?”

“I knew you wanted to date me, and I was afraid I’d fall in love with you, so I kept saying no,” I mutter.

“You should trust me more, Sara.” His words are a mild rebuke. I flush. He’s right. I don’t deserve him.

“Doug,” I mutter, “can we go downstairs?”

***

I kneel in front of Doug in the dungeon; I’m still fully clothed. Doug gets the fire going and the room slowly fills with warmth. Emotions whirl in my brain. Mostly, I feel unworthy of Doug’s love and understanding. I need to be punished for running, for having so little faith in Doug. This need is roaring in me, and my thoughts are churning.

“Doug,” I beg, my voice hesitant, “I need to be punished.”

Doug hears the inflection in my voice. I’m not referring to our typical ‘punishment’ sessions in the dungeon, which are primarily about pleasure. No, I want to be punished painfully. He’s forgiven me, but I need to be punished before I can forgive myself.

He looks at me, now openly troubled. “I don’t do that kind of punishment, Sara, you know that,” he says.

“Please,” I beg. I really, really need this.

He eyes me. An instant passes, then another. Finally, he moves towards me. “I don’t really like this,” he mutters, “but I want to be the one meeting your needs. However, baby, I get to decide when you are done, not you. Okay?”

I nod. I’m not worried; I know he’ll be far kinder to me that I would be to myself. “Thank you, Doug,” I mutter. He winks at me.

The room is now warm. “Take off your clothes, Sara,” Doug orders. “Keep your underwear on though, for the moment.”

I obey instantly. Underneath, I’m wearing the same plum-coloured lingerie I splurged on for my birthday. Judging from the look in Doug’s eyes, he approves.

“Very nice, Sara,” he mutters. I sneak a look; I can see his erection through his jeans; I lick my lips unconsciously. His eyes follow the movement, and he laughs. “Nope, punishment first,” he chides.

He’s wearing a leather belt, he removes it, doubles it on itself. I gulp, but I stay still. I remind myself that I asked for this.

Doug sits on the bed, leans against the headboard; gestures to me. I move towards him, never taking my eyes off his face. “Lean over my lap, Sara.” A terse order. I do as I’m told. I lie on his lap, ready to be spanked. Ready to earn the forgiveness he has given so easily.

My panties are pulled down to my knees in a quick, efficient motion. He starts with his hand at first, the gentle blows falling on my behind, warming it up for the harder strokes ahead. I squirm in his lap. The blows are arousing me, and I want to rub myself against his hard erection.

“Keep still.” His voice is utterly implacable. I gulp. He is so sexy when he is ordering me around. I comply.

“Nice and pink.” His voice is satisfied, as his palms caress my ass.

He picks up the pace. The strokes are falling harder now, each smack sending a resounding crack through the room as it makes contact with my flesh, a sharp pain following each stroke. I grimace at the pain, and grab the bedcovers between my hands; clutching on for dear life.

Now he is hitting me in earnest and I squirm and jump after each painful stroke. My ass is throbbing and painful, and tears are coursing down my face, but he doesn’t let me off the hook. Not yet. The blows fall; I dance but I lie there, submitting to Doug; needing this punishment more than I can explain.

Doug’s hand is curved around my body, holding me still as his other hand rains blows down on me. The strokes fall on my ass, on my upper thighs, and I’m sobbing now and squirming and wiggling as the pain runs through me.

“I’m sorry,” I moan through my tears.

“Why are you sorry, Sara?” Doug’s voice is firm. Even in my pain, hearing the calm control in his voice sends arousal shimmering through me.

“I’m sorry,” I moan again. “Sorry I ran.”

He stops beating my throbbing ass for a second, runs his palms over the tender flesh. I can feel him reach for the belt. I wince. I brace myself. This is going to hurt.

Whap. It does hurt. Sharp pain blossoms in me, and cascades through my entire body; I wail in agony.

Another hard stroke with the belt. I flinch and almost rise off his lap in pain. His hand holds me still and his voice is still calm. “It’s easy enough to trust someone to spank you, Sara,” he says, meditatively. “It’s far harder to trust them with your heart, isn’t it? But you should trust me, Sara, I will never hurt you.”

His simple message is one that brings tears to my eyes as I hear the love in his voice, absorb the meaning of his words. I move my hand, close it over Doug’s. “I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise.” My voice is sincere. In the shelter of Doug’s arms, I realize I don’t want to mess this up, ever again.

The belt still descends on my flailing ass, but I find peace in the pain. I am in the arms of the man I love and I am home.

***

When the punishment is done, Doug carries me over on the bed; sets me, face down, and lies next to me, curving me into his body. I snuggle next to him, feeling at peace with the world. My ass is throbbing, Doug reaches over and grabs some lotion from the side table and gently massages it into my red, pulsing behind.

We lay quietly. I am always close to arousal, when Doug is near, but right now, I crave his comfort more than I crave the sex. Eventually, the throbbing eases somewhat, and I reach back and touch my ass. It is hot to the touch. My punishment was severe.

“Should be mostly fine by the morning,” Doug mutters. “The marks of the belt might take longer to fade though.”

“Are you okay?” I ask him. I know he did this for me. His punishments in the dungeon are primarily about pleasure.

He nods. “It’s what you needed, Sara.” His voice changes and there’s a peculiar inflection to it. “Sara, I need something too.”

“Anything,” I say instantly.

“I’m going to tie you up tonight,” he says. “The whole night. Every time you wake up, you’ll be tied. I know you didn’t react well to it the first time we did it. But I need to know you trust me.”

I turn on my side and I look into his eyes. “I trust you,” I say clearly. I give him implicit permission to continue.

The bindings are placed on me as I drift off to sleep.

***

A noise wakes me up in the middle of the night. I’m still half-asleep. I tense as I find I can’t move, instinctively struggle a little. But then, I remember Doug and my breathing eases, and I relax. He is lying next to me, watching me.

I trust him completely. He will never hurt me.

I smile at him, and drift back asleep.

I am back at the House of Pain.

This time, I’m not on stage. I’m in the audience instead. John has recently set up a couples’ night. It’s proven wildly popular. We’ve had to wait two months to get tickets.

I survey the other couples. Most of them are in fetish clothing and there is lots of leather and skin on display. We are one of the few exceptions. We’ve dressed simply, Doug’s in a black t-shirt and jeans. I’m wearing a dress. We decided pretty early on in our relationship that we didn’t want to play in public, and Doug has made it very clear that he doesn’t like sharing.

We’ve been dating for a year now – this show is a little treat for our one year anniversary. One year ago, almost to this day, I sat at a restaurant and asked if Doug was going to blackmail me. I still flush at that. When I look back, I shudder to think how close I came to losing everything because I was too scared to reach out.

It’s been an amazing year. I’ve moved into Doug’s place. We went on our first vacation together to Turkey, which was magical. This Christmas, we are going to fly to France to spend Christmas with his family. Things are going great.

I haven’t told Doug yet, but tonight, I’ve skipped wearing panties. I’m hoping to mention that little bit of trivia to him when the stage lights are dimmed.

The lights dim. The music increases in volume, something that’s oddly trance-like, and the curtain opens.

***

There’s a girl on stage in the spotlights. She’s suspended on her side from a red sling. One hand immobilized, the other trailing towards the floor. She slowly spins as the sling turns, helpless to stop the movement.

She isn’t naked. She’s wearing a red corset cinched tight but her breasts are exposed. The cinching looks painful, but has tightened her waist to mere inches. She’s also wearing a mostly transparent black skirt. For now, her pussy is a tantalising glimpse beneath the translucent fabric.

Doug moves towards me. I feel his mouth at my ear, hear him whisper to me, his words a searing promise. “That’ll be you later tonight, my love,” he mutters.

It is all I can do to keep still, as tremors of arousal run through me from the hot feel of his mouth against my ear, from the menacing promise he has made that has my insides clench in powerful lust.

I restrain myself from guiding his hand to my skirt. That can wait for later.

John appears on stage and spins the sling around. The girl revolves slowly. As she moves, I can see that the skirt only covers her in the front. In the back, John’s pulled back the skirt and tied the ropes in such a way that her ass is on display.

A crop is now in John’s hand, and he starts wielding little strokes on the girl. Her breasts are cropped lightly; her ass, her exposed thighs. She looks at him and smiles.

There’s an odd intimacy between these two; one that didn’t exist between John and me, when I was on the stage at the House of Pain. I lean towards Doug. “Do you think something’s going on between them?” I whisper in his ear.

I feel Doug nod. “Look at John. Look at the way he’s looking at her.”

I look, and I can see what Doug’s noticed. John’s looking at the girl with the same kind of focused, caring intensity that I’ve noticed in Doug.

The intimacy between them increases the eroticism of the show. I lean forward in my seat slightly, my lips parted. My nipples pebble underneath my dress. Doug notices; his hand moves to rest on my thigh. A simple reminder; I am his.

John leans forward, his hands stroking the girl’s ass. Smack. He lands a blow on the exposed skin. The girl grunts and flinches. She rocks back on the sling, which moves in response.

Now John pushes back the girl’s skirt to reveal her smooth pussy, brings a large dildo to her waiting, yearning body. He pushes it in and pumps it back and forth. The girl’s eyes close in ecstasy.

Whap. Whap. Two hard blows on her ass. “Keep your eyes open.” John’s voice is level.

I am creaming as I sit watching, transfixed. I’ve been on stage, but somehow, watching is more erotic. And watching, with Doug sitting next to me? Knowing that this is what he’s going to do to me when we get home? My body quivers in longing.

Doug can feel my arousal. His hand pushes up my skirt, very slightly. His hand is now on my bare knee. His fingers are tracing idle circles on my skin. I part my legs for him, unasked. I can feel his silent chuckle as he takes in my eagerness and feels my need coursing through me. I can almost hear him speak. “Patience, baby,” he’d say, his voice even. My pussy creams even more, imagining his reaction.

On the stage, John has rotated the girl so that her pussy and ass are exposed to the audience. He’s still pushing the dildo in and out of her. The girl is moaning now, and the hand that’s trailing to the floor is clenched as she surrenders to the thrusting of the dildo. She groans, loudly. The ever-present microphone picks it up, sends her moans of longing around the room.

The girl’s ass is struck. She clenches. I can see a red tinge appear on her bottom where John has spanked her. John notices too. His nails stroke her skin, setting her squirming, and then, he starts spanking her steadily.

Doug’s hands have moved higher up my skirt, his fingers are so close to my pussy. I hiss softly, the noise hidden by the thrumming music and the moans of the girl. Again, I part my legs, and this time, I’m rewarded. One finger scoops towards my drenched pussy.

I can feel Doug’s slight start of surprise as he realizes I’m not wearing any panties. “Tsk, tsk,” he says, very softly, in my ear. I hope he’ll punish me for this later. He parts my outer lips, dips a finger in my wet essence. I feel his fingers move away, his hand leaves my skirt. I suppress a sigh of disappointment. I want him to continue.

Doug’s finger is at my mouth, I open my mouth automatically. I taste myself on it. I sigh softly, as my pussy gushes again.

The girl is moaning loudly now, and squirming. She’s fighting the need to orgasm; her entire body is tense with the effort of holding her release back. John pumps the dildo in and out of her, as she shudders, but he doesn’t let her orgasm. “Not yet,” he says, his voice even. He pulls the dildo out, walks away for a moment.

The sling spins slowly around the room. The girl’s emotions are visible on her face. Arousal. Frustration. Longing. Her eyes remain focused on John’s every move.

John comes back, and he’s holding a tube of something in his hand. Lube? I stiffen. Surely he’s not going to…

“Yes,” Doug’s voice is silken in my ear. “He is indeed going to fist her, baby.” I turn towards Doug. He’s promised he’s going to replicate this scene on me tonight. He’s going to fist me?

I can’t tell whether the tremors running through me are of fear or of longing.

On the stage, the girl’s pussy is thoroughly coated with lube. I can see it glisten, like a partially opened flower. Is she ready for the fist, I wonder? I look at her face. Lust is the primary emotion running through her.

I know the dildo that John holds up next. The huge steel fist; the one that had transfixed me the first time I’d stepped into the House of Pain. Fourteen inches long. Easily over three inches in diameter. I gulp. Doug’s voice is in my ear. “I bought the same dildo earlier today,” he says, his voice silken. I bite my lips in response to his words.

John has a hand curled around the girl’s tied ankle, holding her still, as he brings the monster fist closer to her pussy. I stop breathing. This is among the most erotic things I’ve ever seen in my life.

The music throbs and the girl moans. The dildo is at her pussy, and I can’t take my eyes off the scene unfolding on the stage in front of us. She’s writhing in her bindings, but John’s steady, he’s standing so that she’s pressed against his body for reassurance, and I watch, fascinated, as her pussy yields before the monster dildo.

I can’t help myself, my fingers steal towards my pussy. But Doug’s hand is there to stop me. I can sense his amusement again. I’m going to get punished for this too, I hope.

As the steel fist pumps in and out of the girl’s creaming vagina, as she comes, writhing and flailing, in a massive, shuddering orgasm, I can’t wait for the show to be over, to get home.

***

I kneel in the dungeon, naked. The steel fist next to me. I look at Doug’s face. He’s sitting on a chair, with a drink in his hand. His eyes are on me, blazing with heat and love.

I smile at him. “Doug,” I whisper, knowing I trust this man completely, “please, will you put this dildo in my pussy?”

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