The Armoire

- The Armoire

  by Sam Darquesied

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.

Did I pass out? I feel that I may have but then realize that Darquesied has simply turned off the pick. It is like he could tell I was at the edge with nowhere else to go. It occurs to me that spreading my lips was the first time he had really touched me in any this.

“We’ll take a partial break now, before the next set.” He is not whispering now but his voice is soft and reassuring.

“Do you remember the word?” he asks.

“Philadelphia.” I mumble through the gag.

“Are you using the word?”

I don’t know what the heck he’s talking about and it seems to me safer to say no, otherwise I may be asking for something even more intense than I have received so far. He shakes his head in what appears to be disbelief and walks away.

I feel so many different things it is difficult to focus. I ache but I’m still aroused. I am uncomfortable but I feel good at the same time. I am beginning to shiver and I realize I am leaking cold water from my vagina. I am also incredibly thirsty. I hear footsteps approaching and have to fight the urge to sob. I’m not ready to do this again. Please… not again... not yet at least.

Darquesied reappears and I see he is holding towels. He stands between my legs and begins to dry me off. The towels are wonderfully warm—obviously they’ve been heated. He gently caresses me; first with one towel then repeating with the other. The feeling is exquisite and peaceful —like being cradled by my mother.

He drapes the towel over me and reaches behind my head to undo the Velcro from the ball gag. With one hand he gently pulls the gag out and with the other holds a bottle of water to my lips. I finally have the ability to talk but I need the water first.

“Small sips” he says. “Take your time. You can have as much as you want.”

The water is ambrosial. I can sense my entire body absorbing the drink with each sip. Champagne could not have tested better at this moment. When I get enough I look into his eyes and say; “Thank you”.

“You’re more than welcome” he answers as he gently slips the ball gag back in place.

“You’re doing really well”; he says softly. His expression is one of admiration. He gets up and walks away.

I contemplate my lack of resistance to the replacement of the ball gag. Was I beginning to suffer from Stockholm Syndrome? Am I identifying with my abductor?

I’ve only been here a couple of hours but my regular life seems distant—almost a fantasy. Now seems the only reality there is. My mind drifts to thoughts of Kristel. What was she thinking when she sent me here? I think of Darquesied’s odd name. I can’t seem to think of anything without drifting back to what has been happening to me for the past couple of hours. There is a conundrum because the thoughts are pleasant and this confuses me.

About ten minutes pass before Darquesied returns, carrying the cattle prod. He shows me the prod and I nod in acquiescence. He unclips the cables from my wrists and ankles and, taking my arms behind me, fastens the wrist bracelets together.  He points with the prod to an odd looking frame and bids me move over there.

The frame is a heavy solid looking wooden rig. It has two large square posts one on either side; each about eight feet tall and six feet apart. Across the top is a horizontal beam of equal size. It looks like a frame for a child’s swing except for an additional post coming from the beam but not reaching the floor. It hangs about four feet from the floor but is solidly connected to the beam. The whole thing looks like a capital E laying on its right side.

Upon reaching the rig Darquesied puts his hands on my shoulders, gently turns me around, and guides me so my back is against the short hanging post. He reaches around and unclips my wrists and holds my arms in front. I can now see that the bracelets are of heavy leather, lined with a soft velvety material. Large, sturdy rings are embedded in both bands. Holding my wrists Darquesied begins to gently guide my arms up over my head. He pulls my arms straight and hard enough to require that I stand on my toes. Then he attaches the bracelet rings to something on the post. I need to keep standing on my toes to avoid just hanging there. The bracelets are attached to a large ring which I am able to grab with my hands to alleviate some of the strain.

Darquesied now grabs my right ankle and gently takes it off the ground. He keeps moving it up and to my side until it is virtually perpendicular to my body then he attaches the ankle bracelet to the rightmost post. I am straining a fair bit to keep standing toe-tip on my one foot. I have been silent so far but, when he grabs my left foot and begins to move it up, I let out a plaintive; “Oh my” I work out and I can do the splits but never like this. He finally gets my leg in position and attaches my ankle to the left side post. My legs are now a perfectly straight horizontal line and my privates are open and exposed like never before. I can’t help but moan as my arms are beginning to ache at holding my entire weight.

He gets a length of white rope from a table and, from behind me, begins to wrap it around my thigh about four inches from my crotch. He then brings the rope around the back of the post and wraps my other thigh. He does this several times around one thigh, back and around the post, then the other thigh. The post only comes down to the small of my back so there must be a ledge or slot for the rope to fit in. The rope is fairly snug but not overly tight.

Darquesied speaks softly into my ear; “I need you to grab the ring and pull yourself up just a little bit.”

Without hesitation I do as he asks—damned Stockholm Syndrome. As I do he pulls hard on the rope and it tightens dramatically. When I ease off the ring I can feel that the rope is taking some of my weight now and it is easier on my arms but my hips are now completely immobilized.

“Now I need to do something that you are not going to like at all but it is necessary so you never forget your time here.” Darquesied is holding a butane torch in one hand and a metal rod with something on one end. He holds the items in front of me and ignites the torch. He uses the torch to heat up the end of the rod. As the end of the rod begins to glow a dull red I can see it is the letters “DS”. It now hits me like a train wreck… he’s going to brand me!

“NO… NO… Please NO” I am screaming with all my breath. I know he can hear me. He can’t do this.

“Please don’t do this” I begin to sob.

He puts out the torch and places it and the iron back on the table and picks up something black.

“It’s best that you don’t see this.” He speaks with the tone of a doctor about to give a little girl her first needle. As he speaks he places the blindfold over my eyes.

I hear him relight the torch and realize that he is holding the iron right in front of me as I can feel the warmth as he holds the flame on the end. I can imagine it getting hotter and hotter is it goes from dull red to blazing white. I hear the flame stop and I sob harder and scream louder; “NO… NO… PLEASE DON’T!”

“Brace yourself now. It won’t last long but it has to be done.” Darquesied sounds almost apologetic. I feel some heat near the sole of my right foot. Suddenly he makes contact—hard. The pain is monstrous. I scream from my stomach and all my insides. The pain is so intense that in my mind I cannot tell if it is hot or cold. I can smell smoke and the unmistakable odour of burning flesh. He removes the iron and the pain subsides a bit. I can imagine the horrible scar left by the iron and it must have destroyed the nerve endings because I cannot feel the actual pain much anymore. How could he have done this? He had been so gentle and kind to me just minutes before. How could he have done this? I am still crying but less from pain and more from fear mixed with sadness and disappointment.

“There, there. It’s over now. It will be okay in a minute or so and it looks very nice.”

“BASTARD!” I scream. Gag or no gag, I know he can hear me. I truly hate this man now and somehow I will make him pay. The fact that I can feel a renewed arousal makes me resent him even more.

After a minute or so I can hear him moving things around and it seems he is sliding something along the floor and beneath me. He moves to me and gently removes the blindfold. I’d spit in his face if I could. He wipes a terry cloth over my mouth and I realize that I am drooling like a Saint Bernard. It is exasperating to be this helpless and under someone else’s control. This man can make my body react the way he wants; when he wants. My unceasing arousal adds to my feeling of self loathing. I should be able to control at least that; no matter what the situation.

Darquesied walks to the table and returns with a flogger in hand. This one looks bigger than the horse hair one I enjoyed… I mean the one he used earlier. Like before he does not say a word.

He holds the flogger before me and I can see that it is leather not horse hair. He begins to spin the flogger in a circle around his wrist—like a baton twirler. While still spinning the flogger he moves behind me and I become aware of the sound, rhythmic like before; swoosh… swoosh… swoosh… SLAP. The first strike is at the side of my knee and I react like I was splashed in the face with ice water. The sound is sharp, like a hand striking a face and it stings much more than the hair of the other flogger. “Uhnnnn…” He keeps up the rhythm, moving along my leg towards my butt; every fourth swoosh is a hit. I find myself following his cadence; breath… breath… breath… “Uhnnnn…” When he gets to my butt he lingers, striking several times. The sting is intense at the part of my body being struck but, once he moves on, the feeling becomes tingly and electric—much stronger than when on the barrel.

He finishes at the other knee and now circles around to my front. Again he starts at the knee and moves toward my crotch. My breathing is becoming short like before and my heart has begun to race again. I am definitely aroused but it seems to come and go, fueled by the electric tingle then subdued by the pain of the whip. The tingle is momentary, changing quickly to pins and needles then to a severe and painful itching. This is much, much more painful than the other and I brace myself as he nears my crotch anticipating the agony to come. But he skips over to the other leg and continues to my knee. My legs and butt feel like they are covered with angry fire ants. The painful blows are a relief as they grab my focus from the itching torment of my legs and ass. My arousal is now in a holding pattern.

Now he moves to my tummy, never deviating from the rhythm. I can feel tears flowing freely and my heart is pounding along with my head. “Uhnnnnnnnn…” The moan is constant and unstoppable save for short, gasping breaths. He moves up to my breasts. Swoosh… swoosh… swoosh… SLAP. Like my butt he lingers here. The blows are agonizing especially when he hits my nipples; which are rock hard… not helping! Suddenly he moves the whip to my crotch. The first hit makes me gasp and hold my breath. Then five sharp blows, one after the other, land squarely on my outstretched vagina. Then he stops and walks directly to the table.

I exhale with that guttural; “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…”

Darquesied returns with something that looks like a flashlight with a clear plastic probe on its end. The probe is about four inches long and a half inch around. He holds it in front of me then presses a button under his index finger. The probe turns to neon blue and I can see tiny sparks racing up and down the plastic. He touches it to my breast just beside the nipple.

“Iiiiieeeeeeeeeeeee…” The jolt tenses my whole body and the area he touched feels as though a hundred tiny rough fingers have reached into my breast and are attempting to tickle me hard from the inside. He moves to the other breast and hits the button. Each jolt makes me gasp hard and hold my breath. My body clenches and tries to force the fingers out like a constipated man who hasn’t crapped for a week. He moves to one armpit then the other. Then back to my breast but right against the side of my nipple. “SHIT… SHIT… SHIT!!!”

He moves the wand to my belly button and pulls the trigger. “Guhddddddddddddd…” It feels like I am being punched in the gut with a bed of nails. Darquesied moves the probe to my crotch and slowly slides it in my vagina about two inches… and hits the button. My body clenches then immediately spasms uncontrollably. I cannot breathe at all. He releases the button but does not remove the probe. He looks into my eyes and I beg; “Please… no more!” He pulls the trigger again then releases and removes the probe. I can breathe again but gasping as though I had run 10 blocks. My heart and head are still pounding and I feel very warm. Darquesied kneels and begins to fiddle with the device on the floor beneath me.

I strain to look down and see a black box, about the size of a large breadbox. It has a rod projecting vertically from its centre pointed directly at my stretched out crotch. It is difficult to make out but the end of the rod appears to be fixed with a rubber dildo. Darquesied squeezes some sort of jelly out of a tube and applies it to the fixture then he uses a wheel on the side to raise the rod until it just touches my labia. Even this light touch causes me to clench. He adjusts the position a bit then continues to elevate the rod, slowly forcing it into my hole. It feels… not bad. I was already fairly well lubricated so it slides in smoothly and I know that under different circumstance I could really enjoy this thing.

“Does that hurt?” He asks softly.

I nod no before I realize what I am doing. Should I have said yes or would he just move it around until I said it was okay? Darquesied hits a switch on the box.

The probe moves in and out slowly. He has placed it so it doesn’t go too deep, in fact… it is just right. The sensation is not entirely unpleasant. I close my eyes and I am moaning again but not the same as before; “Mmmmmmmmmm” Darquesied obviously knows what he’s doing.

My eyes snap open as he touches that wand thing against my nipple. It’s a good jolt but not as bad as before. He turns a little wheel and hits me again watching my eyes all the while. This jolt is less again and seems to augment the sensation of the dildo moving diligently in and out of my vagina. With a satisfied look he moves the wand down to my crotch. He touches it to my clit and pulls the trigger. “MMMMMMMMMMMM” My whole body clenches and it feels like the dildo is touching the inside of my entire abdomen. He hits the button with every plunge and releases with each withdrawal. I am getting very wet and that arousal has finally decided to attempt a landing.

He stops the activity with the wand and hooks it to his belt. Now he moves to the table and returns with what looks like a flashlight with a knobby ball on the end. Like the other toys he holds it in front of me and pulls the trigger. I can hear the distinctive buzz of a vibrator. Darquesied now kneels and hits another switch on the black box.

My breathing speeds up as I feel the dildo begin to vibrate. I can feel my heart begin to race even more, partly with anticipation of the orgasm beginning to emerge from some deep recess of my body. The torment of the whip has changed and it seems like it has now focused on my vagina. Everybody is in the pool!

Darquesied touches the other vibrator to my clit and hits the switch. My eyes close as if by reflex; “Ohhhhhhhhhhh… gawd”. With his free hand he grabs the wand from his belt and touches it to my nipples; one then the other; with short pulls on the button. In my mind I can picture little bolts of lightning cascading across my breasts. My body clenches. He presses the vibrator harder against my clit. I gasp in hard and hold my breath. The orgasm comes out of nowhere. It is epic!

Darquesied reaches down to the box quickly and speeds up the dildo. I am trying to press against the vibrator but the ropes allow little movement. Sensing this Darquesied presses the vibrator harder and increases the speed. As I begin to come the spasms are monumental. I am completely out of control and my body is shuddering and pulling hard against the restraints. It feels like it will never stop and I don’t want it to. Spasm after spasm seems to strike every muscle. The jolts to my nipples are stronger and longer and are in tune with the spasms. “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…” Huge, noisy gasp of air and; “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…”

My vagina now becomes very sensitive and I twitch violently with the dildo’s persistent plunges. Darquesied ceases his activity with the wand and removes the vibrator. He switches off the vibration of the dildo and slowly turns the speed down until it stops. Carefully he turns the knob to lower the dildo until it exits my hole and even this causes me to spasm. My mind is a fog of sounds and smells and sensations. I am so thoroughly drained I could sleep right here hanging from this frame. Through the fog I realize that Darquesied is speaking.

“… break now.” I only catch the bit at the end.

“Huh?”

Speaking very softly he repeats; “I said that I know on the phone you said you wanted to go longer but I think we should take a full break now.”

Weakly through the gag I agree; “Yes, please.”

He has moved the device from beneath me and moved a platform in its place.

He stands in front of me and asks; “Can you lift yourself up a bit?”

I look into his eyes and he realizes the absurdity of the question; “Oh, of course… Pardon my hand”

He places his hand and forearm under my butt and lifts me then, with one sharp pull, undoes the finishing knot in the rope. Another two pulls and the rope is removed. He gently lowers me and immediately goes to the rightmost post and frees my ankle, supporting my leg as it lowers to the platform. Quickly he does the same with the left. Seeing that I am unable to stand, he moves into me and places his arm around my waist. He lifts me off the platform, reaches up and frees my wrists. My arms fall naturally around his neck. He picks up my legs with his free arm and carries me about twenty feet to a small room.

There is a lush sofa by the wall with a white, terry robe draped on it at one end. Darquesied places me gently on the robe and closes it around me. Kneeling, he carefully removes the ball gag then offers me some water, softly reminding me to take small sips. He removes the leather bracelets from my ankles then reaches through the robe and lifts my arms so he can remove the wrist bracelets. Lowering my arms he readjusts the robe to cover me. I realize that I am dripping wet with sweat from head to toe. Darquesied gets up and goes to another adjacent room. He returns in a minute and reaches out his hands to me. My legs are still shaky but I reach through the robe to take his hands and he gently pulls me to an unsteady standing position. He turns and with great care, supporting most of my weight, he guides me to the other room.

The room is a bathroom of sorts. Not a regular bathroom but more like one you might find in a spa. There is a beautiful, large open shower with the water already running. Darquesied leads me to it and then moves behind me and slips off the robe. I step into the shower and under the spray. The water is luscious, just the right temperature. The cascade is soft, like a warm rain—I could stay here forever.

I sense that Darquesied has stepped in to the shower with me. I turn my head a bit and see that he too is naked. It stands to reason that he would be terribly horny from the recent activities so I brace myself expecting that he plans to have his way with me right here. Instead he reaches to a shelf and grabs a shampoo bottle, squeezes out a glob then says; “Step back a bit please.”

I do as requested so my head is out of the stream and he applies the shampoo and begins to message my scalp. It is very soothing. Getting more shampoo he continues with the rest of the hair hanging down my back.

Softly into my ear he asks me to step back into the water. I move my hands up to rinse but he moves them back down and says; “I’ll take care of it.”

I step back and he repeats the process then back in to rinse. He asks me to step back again and begins to lather me up from the back. Across my shoulders; down my arms; up and down my back; over my butt; between my cheeks; between my legs; then down to my feet. He gently turns me and does the same to my front, messaging my shoulders then around my breasts, down my tummy, over the groin, between my legs and down to my feet. With a bit more effort he could easily turn me on but I can see that this is not sexual—he is simply cleaning me. It is the most exquisite shower I have ever had. I step back into the water and rinse off. He reaches forward and turns off the water then motions for me to step out onto a bathmat.

“It’s warm.” I remark.

“In floor heating.” He answers.

He dresses himself in seconds then begins to dry me off with wonderfully heated towels. Like before he repeats the drying with a second warm towel. Then he reaches for a tube of Vitamin E gel on the cabinet, squeezes out a healthy amount and begins to rub it all over me. Slowly over my back then down to my butt, messaging the gel into my cheeks with the patience and skill of a professional. More gel then down the back of my legs; back up then between my legs. He gets another handful the moves to my breasts, gently messaging from the base and spiraling slowly to my nipples; messaging them between his thumb and forefinger. I cannot describe how nice this feels or how turned on I am. If he wants me now he will encounter little resistance. Instead he continues to message the gel in until it is completely absorbed.

I realize that none of this is sexual, at least for him at this time. It is pampering; his way of gently and slowly bringing me down from the intense high I just experienced in the frame and on the barrel. Darquesied does this very, very well.

Now he gets a new robe and beckons for me to slip my arms in then slides it up and over my shoulders. He turns me around gently and closes the robe and does up the belt. Taking my hand he leads me back to the sofa and motions for me to sit.

“You just relax here and I’ll get your clothes. How are you feeling?”

His query snaps my mind to the memory of the hot iron on my foot. I can’t really feel it anymore but the image in my mind is vivid. I raise my head to look at him and tears begin to well up. I begin to sob and blubber; “You BRANDED me!”

“Oh that. Just a second” His tone is apathetic; like he’s addressing a minor complaint from a child.

He goes back to the bathroom and returns with a hand mirror. He kneels down, pulls my right foot up and positions the mirror so I can see the bottom of my foot. “What do you think?” He sounds like he’s showing me a new pair of shoes.

I close my eyes, afraid to look. I can only imagine the how ugly the “DS” scarring my foot will be. Deep in the back of my mind I wonder why “DS”? I wipe away the tears and look into the mirror.

There’s nothing there! No scar. Not even a mark of any kind. Was it the other foot? No, I’m sure it was the right.

“How…??”

“Trick of the trade.” He says with a smile. “Just part of the package.”

As he gets up and moves towards the bathroom I ask; “Why would you do such a thing? It frightened me so much.”

He answers from the bathroom; “I sensed you were getting out of the scenario. I don’t know… too complacent maybe. I’m not sure how to explain it… have you ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome?”

I look away and cringe a bit; “Yes, I have heard of that.”

“I felt I needed to get you back into the scenario. I needed you to be a little scared… even hate me a bit. But if it bothered you that much why didn’t you use the out word?”

Confused I ask; “What ‘out’ word?”

“Oh come now. Remember; ‘Philadelphia’. Any time you feel the need all you have to do is say ‘Philadelphia’ and everything stops. It’s a word I can easily make out, even through a gag. We went over this in great detail on the phone.”

Through my tears I shout; “We never spoke on the phone!”

I can see he is surprised. “Excuse me?”

I repeat; “We never spoke on the phone. It was my boss who arranged the appointment.”

He is visibly shaken and confused. “But why did you come here then?”

“I thought I was coming to look at a handmade armoire.”

He sits down hard in a chair across from the sofa; “You mean you had no idea what was actually going to happen?”

“I thought I was going to be looking at furniture.”

“Oh Jesus! I am usually so careful. I…I rarely make appointments by phone and even then only with clients I know real well. I mean she said she was you and… and said you… er… she was referred by a client who I‘ve known for a long while. My God! You must have been terrified!”

I look at him and begin to cry. He comes and sits beside me and I rest my head on his shoulder and sob uncontrollably. I think he’s crying a bit as well as he softly whispers; “I’m so sorry.”

A couple of minutes pass and I regain my composure. Sitting up I ask; “What is this place exactly? What do you do here?”

Darquesied gets up and returns to the chair across from me.

“People—well… women—come here for sessions involving… uh… fantasies or needs. There all different. They pay for sessions where they can indulge themselves in a safe environment without fear of ridicule or judgment. I guess it’s like a spa except… different.”

He sounds a bit like he’s reading from a sales brochure; “How much do they pay?”

“A regular session is five thousand dollars.”

Five thousand dollars! Holy crap! A hundred more questions race through my brain. Who are these women? Why would they want to pay to get their asses whipped? Actually, I kind of get that one. After a moment of incredulity I ask; “Was my ‘session’ paid for?”

“Oh yes… In most cases, especially a new client, I insist that the cash is couriered up well before the session date.”

I know Kristel is quite wealthy but five grand—holy shit!

I’ve always done a good job for her and I’ve never complained about the crap she constantly dishes out. In spite of that she was willing to pay that much to do this to me? I cannot get my head around that kind of venom. I am deeply hurt that anyone would harbour that kind of abhorrence toward me. I look down and mutter; “She must really hate me.”

“Or really love you.” Counters Darquesied.

I am surprised by that but I get his point. This experience had its moments and, if I had been here voluntarily, I think I would have enjoyed the whole thing. I am astounded at my rationale and shake my head to refocus.

“How long does a ‘regular session’ usually last?”

He leans back in his chair and responds; “On average, probably about thirty six hours.”

I am astonished; “You mean people pay you to whip and torment them for thirty six hours straight?”

“No, no, no. That’s only part of it. First of all there’s more than just the flogging or toy play. There’s the bondage itself; the perceived loss of control. Giving yourself over to someone and allowing them, for a time, to control your destiny can be quite sensual in itself—providing you can absolutely trust that someone. If you recall, the whipping and torment were a relatively small portion of what you experienced during the sets. You have to agree that some activities were at least a little pleasurable and that’s not to say that the whipping and other stuff were just about pain.”

He is not entirely wrong but I do not respond.

Darquesied continues; “They are all different but in a typical session a woman may arrive and we might chat for a bit or have breakfast—whatever. Sometimes it’s role playing. We may just stay in the house for that. Then we may come to the shop for a set or two, depending on her requests. Sometimes it’s a scenario like yours… well… like yours was supposed to be. Sometimes it’s just doing a few things that she likes or maybe trying something new. After that we might go back to the house for lunch; maybe she has a little nap. Sometimes she might go riding—I have four horses here in the back field.”

He waits for me to interject but I do not so he continues; “The point is that it’s about the woman. It’s whatever she wants. She knows she can come here to an environment of complete safety where no one will hurt her. It can be an outlet for suppressed emotions or maybe, for her, there is no other time or place in her life where she can be who she really wants to be.”

“No one will hurt her?” I snap sarcastically.

“That’s right.” He insists. “The pain that may accompany a set involving a flogger or a cane or one of the other toys, is aimed at creating an intense emotional and physical response within a woman’s body and mind. In my experience many women crave these experiences but have no other opportunity, other than here, to really feel what they are capable of feeling.”

I am trying to take this all in and so far it is difficult to disagree.

Darquesied continues; “It is important that you understand; I truly love all the women who come here. I consider it a privilege to be part of what they are experiencing and to witness them genuinely allow themselves to go to the edge. I am flattered… no… honoured that they trust me unequivocally to act as a guide. I would never breach that trust. To go beyond the edge; and for every woman it’s different; to go beyond that, or to actually hurt them, would completely defeat the purpose of this place and who I am.”

He pauses, waiting for me to say something but, again, I do not. I can tell that he thinks I’m just not getting it and, clearly exasperated, he stops trying.

“Okay. You just relax here and I’ll get your clothes.”

He gets up and begins to leave the room and I suddenly blurt out; “I have one more question.”

“Yes, of course. What is it?”

I pause a bit then ask; “Do you ever… uh… you know… have relations with them?”

He turns at the doorway; “You mean intercourse or oral, that kind of thing?”

“Yes.” I can sense that I am blushing a little.

“It depends. With a few women… yes. It’s a decision that we both have to agree on; both the limits and the context. I consider love making to be pretty special so I wouldn’t do it just to get my rocks off, if you know what I mean.”

Good answer.

He turns and continues out of the room. As he leaves he points to a bureau by the wall and says; “If you would like to put on some fresh undergarments, there are some in that dresser.”

I get up and open the top drawer. It is full of brand new panties—not cheap crap either but good ones like a woman would buy for herself. I pick out a nice white pair in my size, remove the packaging, and slide them on. They are a perfect fit but, oddly, they feel a bit confining. I sit down and begin to ponder his name. Sam Darquesied. Obviously not his real name. Instantly it comes to me. Quite simple really and I laugh a little out loud just as he comes back.

“It’s nice to hear you laugh. What’s so funny?”

“I just figured out your name and now I get the ‘DS’ on the iron.”

He laughs too; “Oh yeah. It’s a bit lame but it’s the only thing I could think of that kinda fit and still sounded like a real name.”

He hands me my clothes, all neatly folded and stacked, as well as two large shopping bags.

“You can put the robes and towels in the bags. They are yours to keep of course.”

He leaves the room again allowing me to dress in private. It’s seems a little odd that this man, who has seen more of me than my mother, affords me this privacy.

“Are you decent? He shouts from outside the room.

“Yes, thanks.” I respond.

Darquesied re-enters and sits in his chair putting his head in his hands. About twenty seconds of silence pass then he lifts his head and says; “So what are we going to do about this?”

I sit again and respond; “What do you mean?”

“Well, no matter how you feel right now, the fact remains that this ‘Kristel’ has done a terrible thing to you. Most likely you could sue or possibly even pursue criminal proceedings.”

I mull that over for a moment then respond; “At this point I’m not really sure what to do.”

“Well whatever you choose to do I will support you in any way that I can. If you need a witness I will of course make myself available at any time.”

“Wouldn’t that land you in trouble as well?” I’m a little surprised that I said that but I actually am concerned.

He answers; “Well, to the best of my knowledge nothing I do here is illegal. Everything is consensual, notwithstanding your visit today, so I don’t think I’d go to jail or anything. Remember, I was duped the same as you. However; I think it’s safe to say I’d be out of business.”

The fact is I wasn’t even thinking about Kristel until he mentioned it. After all that I had just experienced she seemed thoroughly unimportant. I almost feel worse for him than I do for myself. He seems genuinely violated.

If the opportunity to put Darquesied out of business arose at the time of the “branding” I would have done so in a heartbeat but now it seems terribly unfair.

I change the subject; “Can I ask you something?

“Of course.”

I continue; “If I was here for a regular session, consensually, what would we be doing now?”

He is obviously surprised by the question and has to take a moment to think; “Oh… well… um… it would depend a bit. You were, and I suspect still are, pretty exhausted when we stopped so I would have taken you to the house and shown you to your room. I think you may have wanted to rest or take a nap. If so that would have been fine. If not then we would have most likely had lunch. We might have discussed what you wanted to do with the rest of your stay. It’s kind of hard to be specific. As I said; everyone is different.”

I look straight into his eyes and, in my most serious tone, ask; “Am I to understand that I am free to go?”

His eyes change to a look of sadness; “Of course… you always were.”

He looks at the floor for a moment then back up to me and asks; “Is there anything I can do before you go?”

Surely Darquesied does owe me something for what has transpired but I realize the real culprit is Kristel… still; “Yes there is.”

He immediately responds; “Anything.”

“Explain the freaking branding thing!” I demand.

“But that’s a trade secret.” He says with a laugh.

I stare at him in mock disbelief… and he relents.

“It’s something I saw in a movie and thought it would be interesting to try here sometime. If it means anything, you were the first.”

I actually take a little pride in that.

Darquesied continues; “What I did was first set it into your head that it was real and inevitable by heating up the iron in front of you where you could see. Your brain tends to create its own reality based on what you see and what you anticipate. In this case you anticipated the pain of the hot iron hitting your flesh. After blindfolding you all I had to do was reinforce the notion by holding the iron close enough for you to feel some heat. What I actually did was put the torch on a table and the iron in a little stand in front of the flame. Meantime I retrieved another iron out of the freezer and a pork chop out of the fridge. When the hot iron was ready I held it near your foot so you would feel that heat then I switched and hit you with the iron from the freezer and at the same time hit the pork chop with the hot iron. Your preconception along with the smoke and burning smell caused your brain to do the rest.”

I am picturing him scurrying about attempting to perpetrate this chicanery and laugh at the vision. I look into his eyes trying to get myself to dislike this man but it is fruitless.

I keep looking into his eyes for a moment then stand up, grab the shopping bags, and walk out of the room towards the entry to the studio. It is quite a heavy door and is securely locked. Darquesied has followed me and reaches in front to unbolt the door. As it swings open I am startled by the brightness of the day. The sun is high in the sky so it must be around noon. I thought I had been here much longer.

Darquesied and I walk to my car and he opens the driver’s door. Taking the shopping bags from me he places them in the back seat. He holds the door as I get in then, once he is assured that I am clear, closes the door. He raps on the window and I roll it down allowing him to hand me a card.

“I cannot convey to you how sorry I am at what has happened. If there’s ever anything I can do please do not hesitate to call.”

With that he gives me a little wave goodbye and walks back to the house. I open the sunroof and lay my head back, close my eyes and bask in the warmth and the fresh air. I can’t help thinking about my experience in the “shop” and how, on at least two occasions over the past two hours, I felt more alive that ever before in my life. All the little minor annoyances of everyday life seem so utterly unimportant now. It is like the past two hours were my real life, the one I was supposed to live, and all the time before was just treading water.

“Okay, that’s it.” I say out loud as I get out of the car, slam the door and walk briskly towards the house. I don’t know why but just before I reach the stoop it suddenly dawns on me what “Chicago” was about. I hit the side of my head with my hand; “Idiot!” I say out loud and start to laugh. I continue up the stoop and rap hard on the door.

Darquesied opens the door momentarily and, a little surprised, asks; “Did you forget something?”

I look him straight in the eye and, in my most serious tone, I say; “So… what’s for lunch?”

He smiles warmly and answers; “Please, come in… I’ll see what I can whip up.”