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| Stories Bingo’s Home Bingo’s Lair |
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DISCLAIMER:
Some of the things the characters do in this story are seen as offensive
or frightening (even terrifying) by some if not most people. Please
don’t surprise anyone. Always ask first. Have an agreed upon
safe word even if you don’t do BDSM. See Cecilia
Page for story codes and additional information. Part 2— Chapter 4 |
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She woke feeling rested on the mattress, alone. Feeling alone for the first time in weeks. Joe and Trudie had left sometime last night. Sometime. She had no idea when, hadn't bothered to check the clock on the VCR. She had buried her nose into the sheets and luxuriated in Trudie's and Joe's scents after they left. Sleep came easy with that palpable trace of their presence. Now she had a busy day ahead. She found her pad, a pen, and one of Trudie's silly little white socks. She held the sock between her list as she started the list.
She watched the figures on the dirty basement floor. The slut was getting what she deserved from the man in the cape. She wiped her face, licked the cum from her hand and waited for them to direct their attention to her again. The figures in the room, all dressed in black, wore simple masks over their eyes only, like Halloween or at a charade. All the figures except the man with the hooded mask who stood by her, holding her leash. She knew better than beg; they didn't like bitches who didn't know their place. She settled back onto her heels, placed her hands on her knees and waited; open, her dripping cunt ready. By being seen she was marked. By being marked they could ignore her. The slut was getting her ass ruined. She could hear her whimpers as the man in the cape drove his hard cock incessantly into her, hip meeting ass with a loud slap. She felt a tug on her leash, followed the man in the mask to the rutting couple and the figures around them. She anticipated the taste of cum and the slut's shit. Her mouth watered and she moaned softly as the grit bit into her palms and knees. She waited with mouth open for . . . Damn. She turned around. William stood in the doorway with a pistol pointed at Trudie and Joe on the bed. Joe continued fucking; he must not have heard the door hit the wall. "What in heaven's name are you doing, William?" Wild-eyed he turned to her, swiveling his body so the gun pointed to her now. "Put that down, William." "Who . . ." She unfastened the mask, removed it, shaking her hair loose. "I'm your ex-wife, William. Remember? Put that down." She stood, pushed the chair away from the computer desk. The monitor was dark. She pulled her robe closer to her body. He lowered the gun. "Who is she?" "They are friends, William. Lovers who use my house to meet. Please leave. You were not invited." "Are you next for him?" He looked like he wanted to break something. "Hardly, William. I'm still true to you, whether you believe it or not." "He spends a lot of time with you." William raised the gun, pointed it at her. "I should . . ." "You should leave, William. Who will take care of Ashley if you kill me? Who?" He shook his head, put the pistol in his jacket pocket. "If I ever see you like that, Sissy, I'll kill you." "William, if you ever see me like that you'll know I've already died and gone to heaven. If you see me like that, before you pull the trigger, think about us, you and me like that." "Slut." He spat on the floor. "Gesundheit, William." He slammed the door when he left. They heard his car tear out of the neighborhood. "Who was the asshole, Cecilia?" Joe asked. He pulled away from Trudie, sat up. "Sorry to involve you with my problems. I didn't think he was dangerous." "You were married to that creep?" "I was married to that creep. Would you like some tea?" She slipped the hooded mask back over her head, adjusted it. "I'll start a kettle." She leaned against the counter, adjusted the knife on the cutting board so it was pointing exactly right, shut her eyes. She was blindfolded. All was black except for the noise of his grunts as he swung, the whistle of the whip before it hit her and the sound of it being drawn back, dragging on the floor. All was black except for each coruscating moment following a blow when her whole body lit up. She heard the slut laugh, voices. She smiled when she felt his electric touch, the back of his fingers against her cheek. She opened her eyes just as the kettle began to whistle. She carried cups into the living room, Sleepytime to relax them. She joined her lovers on the mattress, afraid to touch either one of them.
She slept fitfully in the corner, on the floor. Naked, her skin was damp with sweat. She had a sour taste in her mouth. Stepping stones three, four, she didn't know how many. The day was a jumble. Ashley, Joe and she had gone shopping, more paraphernalia, since Ashley and Joe were involved. That took time. Making up each list of things to do, things they needed, took time. She was exhausted; William barging in like that had been totally unnecessary. The situation was already difficult enough. She cursed her demons for leaving her at moments like this. She missed, needed, their distraction. She turned, her joints grinding against the wood floor. She stared at the ceiling, saw the reflection of the light from the computer monitor. It must have just come on. Numbers and letters, white figures on a dark ground scrolled down the screen. There was a beep. She sat up, glanced around the room. No one. The mattress was empty; no one sat in the chair by the computer desk. The house was otherwise dark. Her mask lay beside the mouse. She went to the computer, entered the password and waited. There was a new file on the desktop titled Friday. She opened it. The text read: "The man in the mask invites you to meet the man in the cape Friday evening, in the locker room, after the game." She closed the file, shut down the computer and went to the bathroom. She'd take a shower. The water slowly cooled as the hot water ran out. She let it cool, falling on her shoulders as she sat in the tub. Nothing. They were gone from her. Tonight of all nights. She reached up and turned off the water, sat quietly and listened to the water run out of the tub. She reached behind, grasped her hair and twisted it to wring out most of the water. She shook her head, felt her wet hair brush her shoulder, a caress as soft as a whip's before the first serious stroke. She dried herself, found a robe and put it on. She found several lengths of rope in the living room lying next to the mattress. She slapped the rope against her thigh, opened her robe and slapped her bare thigh harder. Better. She left the house and climbed into the back of the van. The metal floor was heavily ridged. Good, she thought. She shut herself into the van; it sounded hollow and heavy. She was in a steel cylinder ready to go over Niagara Falls. She'd better tie herself in. She took off her robe, tossed it toward the front of the van, between the two seats. She lashed her feet together, tied them to a vertical rib. She used a piece of rope to whip her body, all over, legs, back, breasts, face and cunt. Especially her cunt. She felt as hollow as the steel cylinder. She gathered a hank of her hair, wrapped a rope end around it and knotted it tightly. She passed the other end around another vertical rib, on the other side of the van from her feet, and pulled. She gave an extra tug then wrapped the rope tightly and tied it. There were hairs in her eyes but she left them to irritate her. She cooled quickly in the October night and started to shiver. She remembered her second evening with Trudie and Joe, before and after William's impromptu visit. She remembered Joe asking again if he could touch her. Her pause, then saying yes. He placed one hand so it cupped her pussy and the other so it cupped her breast. He said her name and her whole body shook, flipped itself inside out then back again. Her womb fluttered, a moth inside her body seeking light. She remembered Joe telling them, while they rested, of the time when he was wounded in Vietnam. An American officer came into view, looked around, and gave Joe's leg a kick. "This one's still alive," he said, then walked away. She wondered if her demons were gone if Joe and Trudie would disappear also. She shivered as she shut her eyes. The slut was making noises as two used her at once. She choked, eyes wide open, face red, muscles on her neck distended as one was caught in her throat. She gagged on that cock as she was brutally fucked from behind. Her head shook rapidly back and forth, then relaxed when he pulled out laughing, spit and cum pouring from her mouth. The whip dropped onto the floor next to her face and the man in the cape stepped over her to join them. His black cape brushed her back. A hand reached to pick up the whip. She was thirsty. She wondered when she would be next. The first blow inexpertly caught her cheek. She writhed on the floor. A boot stepped onto her hand, held it tightly against the grit floor. The next blow was better placed. She relaxed and smiled. They loved her. Go
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