Having It All (40 page)

Jim, at his notebook computer, noted these reactions and reminded himself of what might improve them next time. He figured it was time to let Sandy sleep, so he flipped over the sling to its plain side, reduced some of the tension points, mostly those on tits, hair braid and hook, allowing her to sleep in suspension until morning.

Chapter Twenty One

Silver Hat

Tired of Sandy's continuous murmuring, gagged and ungagged, muffled and unmuffled shrieks, Jim decided that he needed a day or so of silence, so he pulled the now common penis gag out of Sandy's wide-open mouth and started shoving in long pieces of a clean dishtowel, cut into strips. He stuffed the long strips into each cheek, making sure there was no space left before he added more cloth to the area between her teeth. When he was sure he'd filled every tiny crevice inside her mouth and half way to her throat, he took a long strip of the towel and used it to cram the packing deeper. He wrapped this around her head, pulling it tight and forcing the rags deeper inside her mouth, spreading her teeth apart and opening her jaws as much as possible. As usual, Sandy alternately fought this invasion, but the wrist to elbow cuffs kept her hands immobilized and the shackles that had become more or less her household hobbles held her in a position of little resistance. So, thus encumbered, she simply gave up and allowed Jim to do what he wanted to her packed mouth. He wound the retaining strips around her head twice and tied it off in back. Sandy now presented a ghastly picture with her jaws wide, teeth showing because her lips were drawn far back. But Jim was not finished. He folded another towel into a small, compact square, placed it over Sandy's open mouth and then tied it in place with twine, forcing the already dense packing back further into her throat and sealing the area around her mouth, from below her nostrils to her chin.

To test the new gag, Jim playfully pinched one nipple and noted that the accompanying howl was almost inaudible.

“That'll work,” he said, satisfied. Behind the stuffed mouth and extended jaws, Sandy whined quietly.

“Oh, right,” Jim responded, studying his work. “I agree.” He picked up a large roll of silver duct tape and began to wrap tape around the area where the cloth sealed Sandy's mouth. When that was done, he took two small pieces of cloth and placed them over her eyes, then taped them in place. To finish this, Jim then added a vertical binding of tape that ran under her chin, over the top of her head and essentially covered the small amount of untaped space on Sandy's head. He taped over her light brown hair, leaving her single braided ponytail dangling out of the now nearly totally tape encapsulated head. Seeing that the work looked nearly complete, Jim finished it with additional tape to cover all remaining hair and flesh of her head. He even wrapped a few turns of tape lightly around her neck and then, stepping back to survey his work, complimented himself on a fine job of creating yet another masterpiece of punishment bondage. Sandy was breathing through her nose, making no noise at all.

“Ah, my silver-headed little bitch,” Jim said. “I'll get some video of this so you can see yourself…at some later time, to be sure,” he added.

Sandy groaned. It sounded like a distant hum of the wind. Jim was satisfied and allowed her to stumble off to do whatever Sandy did around the house when she was allowed some limited freedom, even if she was blind, gagged, without hearing and securely bound. She didn't get far because she quickly encountered the barriers Jim placed at critical and dangerous places in the room. Frustrated, silent and annoyed, Sandy managed to flop down into the couch and, putting her feet up, dozed off to sleep. Jim covered the inert and naked form with a quilt, locked a chain from the couch leg to her collar and went off to work in his garage. When Sandy awoke, she would find the leash and realize that she was not going anywhere until Jim returned. So, annoyingly, biobreaks would have to wait.

Chapter Twenty Two

Whips

Jim spent a few weeks locating and collecting a large assortment of whips, paddles, flails, crops and canes, all with the intention of slowly indoctrinating both Sandy and him to the precise art of beating without doing permanent damage. The thought was much easier to mentally process than was the actual learning about whip usage. After considerable trial and some gross errors and miscalculations, Jim ordered a DVD from a noted Canadian expert on bullwhip handling and then began to apply the lessons while assuring Sandy's safety. He practiced on hanging sheets of newspaper, learning how to shred the paper into thin strips without just tearing it down. He worked for hours on taking the skin off an apple and found that while the DVD showed it being done by an expert; Jims own talents probably lay elsewhere.

He set Sandy up on the rack, blind, gagged and stretched out to the four corners of the St. Andrews Cross, and toyed with the snapper end of the whip, just bringing it up and around her body, touching but not flailing with it, enticing her with the fear and mixed emersions as Jim improved his whip skills.

“Sooner or later,” Jim said one afternoon during a practice session, “I'm going to use this on you and you will never know when it's going to happen.” That threat was enough to get Sandy passionately off as the whip whirled around her head and body, the long, greasy, braided length often being pulled through her steaming crotch, over her breasts and around her neck.

This training took time. Meanwhile, Jim administered her punishment with a less destructive and less dangerous assortment of paddles, canes, a custom-made cat-o-nine-tails which the designer thoughtfully made with an extra tail, making it in actuality, a cat-o-ten-tails. Some flails of various sizes, a dozen riding crops, which were the easier to find and buy, and other instruments of punishment, including simple wooden rulers, complimented these basics. Jim bought two dozen of these because they broke easily. He added yardsticks, hairbrushes, carpet beaters, horsehair flails and other things he simply bought to try and test.

The beatings he gave Sandy with everything but the bullwhip had their intended effect on both of them. It usually took about two weeks for the scars to heal, during which time Jim entertained himself with other ways to torment and excite the seemingly insatiable Sandy. One of his favorite activities was to flog her slowly through an entire evening of TV shows while she was blindfolded and gagged, hanging from the overhead hooks, bound to the floor rings and completely immobile. Seated with a selection of toys around him, Jim used commercial breaks to flog Sandy's anxious ass until it was uniformly red and swollen. While the station break was going on, he'd turn her around and aligned her frontal areas for the next series of marks, often with a different device. He especially liked the canes because he could poke and prod as well as flog with these. It was not unusual for him to leave her hanging by her taped and cuffed wrists for the rest of the night while he went to bed and slept peacefully, dreaming of Sandy jerking her hips madly and swinging from the ceiling hooks while he whipped her. Sandy said that these sessions were incredibly arousing, even though, to the uninitiated, they might seem mundane, cruel or even boring. When she discussed this with Roth, she was disappointed that his reaction was initially zero.

“I really find these events more erotic than some of the complex sessions Jim thinks up,” she told the shrink one afternoon. “I can't explain this. Can you help?”

“I suspect that you find this kind of submission perhaps more in line with your subconscious wants and needs,” said Roth after a bit of contemplation. “How does this start?”

“Usually before dinner. I dress as the village slut and Jim takes advantage, quickly binding me to the overhead rings and tying my feet either spread apart or together to a ring in the floor.”

“Do you converse?”

“Only in some role-playing way.”

“What does he say?”

“Mostly that I am a slut and need to be punished. He sometimes describes what he is going to do with me. Sometimes he doesn’t say anything.”

“Do you fill in the gaps with your own imaginary images?”

“I guess.”

“Which is more stimulating, with or without conversation?”

“I don't know. Much depends on our moods whether we are playful or serious.”

“Does the mood impact how he hurts you?”

“I guess so. If he's pissed off at something like a big bill he didn't expect or the news or something at the office, I think I get punished more.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

“Hot. I think when he's angry I come faster and more often.”

“So, you essentially welcome the anger?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting, to be sure, Sandy, but quite logical. If you consider that what appears to drive this overall erotic need, you can probably see that you seek some sort of punishment and revel in it. It fulfills a need you were never able to attain as a child.”

“But Jim only does what I want him to do…with some enhancements that I often don't see coming.”

“That may make it even more effective.”

Sandy was silent. The clock ticked and she sat in the deep recliner chair, allowing her mind to flash back to the most recent flogging in the living room while Jim watched a national golf match. “I think I get off on his detachment…” she offered finally.

“I beg your pardon,” Roth said quickly.

“I think that the more disinterested Jim is, the more I seem to get out of it. When he is using his devices and gadgets, I actually get bored and tend to drop off to sleep.”

“So, yes, I see,” said Roth somewhat vaguely. “Well, that's our time for today. I do hope that you'll think about what we covered today and let's meet again next week, Sandy.”

Sandy left, not feeling like she'd gotten her $350 worth with this hour, but mulling over the idea that the more Jim got into the sessions the less she seemed to benefit from them. “
An interesting proposition
,” she thought.
“Why the hell would I want him to be detached?”

Chapter Twenty Three

Upper Room

When Sandy wasn't confined to her tub or rack or just hanging around the house, she was kept in the former 3rd bedroom which Jim converted into her new permanent home. The walls were no longer a bright off white and the décor of the room was now a decidedly morose flat black. There were several different sized concrete forms, poured and shaped by Jim to offer interesting opportunities for confinement and suspension. These were too heavy to be made elsewhere and moved, so he mixed and poured the cement on the spot. Each form had multiple steel rings and eyes on all sides, allowing for chains cuffs, collars and shackles to be locked in place. The walls also had hard points where chains of various lengths were attached, usually with cuffs and shackles, some of which Jim made in his now well- equipped shop. The most unique aspect of this room was that it was actually suspended within the internal structure of the house and could move on its own through a series of sophisticated hydraulics, similar to those used on aviation simulators. Thus, a person could be fastened to one wall while lying on her back and end up hanging from that wall when the room rotated to a new position. The extent of the motion was limited. That is, the room could not be fully rotated or turned upside down, but the effects had a profound impact on anyone who was not expecting to have the floor suddenly tilt and the entry door become a trap door in the floor.

Sandy's first visit was what Jim called her orientation session. That meant that she was brought to the room blindfolded and already disoriented. Jim tied her to heavy metal staples on one black wall, put a full face oxygen mask on her head and adjusted the gas balance so that she was taken into a somewhat hypnotic state. As a dentist, Jim knew and was licensed to use various gas mixtures for patients who required it, so there was nothing unusual for him to have and use this equipment. Properly managed, the treatment was harmless, but Jim's initial intent was to see if he could create a dream like environment in which Sandy would tell him what she was dreaming. Using verbal and electronic suggestions, Jim attempted to take her on a trip through her own mind. He had spent considerable money to create the room and even more getting training from several experienced and professional interrogators who provided instruction in what he was now doing.

At first, for more than an hour, Sandy simply drifted in her head, babbling meaningless gibberish into the mike in the mask. But after some commentary and direction from Jim's smooth, soft voice and a slight variation in the gas mixture, she began a narrative; actually a dialog:

1st Voice. Obviously female: “You will provide for everything His Excellency requires. If you fail to do so, you will suffer more than you can imagine. Do you understand?”

2nd Female voice:”Yes. I understand. What do you require of me?”

1st Voice:”Strip. Everything. Now.”

2nd Voice:”Okay. Now what?”

1st Voice:”Bend over this rail and lock your hands in those cuffs.”

2st Voice:”Yes. Of course. He wants my ass, right?”

1st Voice:”No. He wants to whip all of your body and this is the best way to begin. Stand still while I fasten your feet.”

Long pause
.

1st Voice:”You miserable slut, this will teach you about true submission.”

Long pause while Sandy writhes and trembles while pinned to the black wall, straining on her real bonds, screaming into the mask, thrashing madly against the wall.