Over the next couple of hours, I wandered about the various rooms in the basement dungeon. I was not tired enough to fall asleep. As restricting and constricting as the my costume was, I would have to be very tired before sleep would come. Besides, in addition to curiosity, I had another reason for searching the place: finding a comfortable place to crash when I reached the point of exhaustion.
Other than the conspicuous care and expense that had obviously have been invested in the building of them, the rooms were not surprises. They were fantasies straight out of every D/S novel I have ever read. I did wonder who built them for her. Was there some BDSM entrepreneurial concern out there most of the did not know about? Something called "Dungeons R Us", or maybe "Better Homes and Dungeons"? The craftsmanship was superb, obviously the work of highly skilled professionals, right down to the art work that made one of the rooms look like it had been cut from sheer rock.
That cave-like room was right out of the Spanish Inquisition, complete with a rack, Iron Maiden and Poe's Pit and the Pendulum. I did not stay in there very long. Another room was clearly designed with corporal punishment in mind. Dark shadows from harsh, unshielded incandescent lights highlighted heavy wooden blocks and other devices intended to tie down the supplicant. Samples of just about every implement ever invented by one human to use in striking another hung in neat rows along each wall. There was a Colonial Punishment Room, outfitted like the Courthouse Yard at Williamsburg, and something that I think was a Victorian English School Room. One room was set up to look like a doctor's office, fully equipped, I was sure for various specialties, including proctology and gynecology.
Some of the rooms were a bit puzzling because they were so apparently ordinary. There was a business office, a cozy looking sitting room and a formal dining room. There was a nursery and a very frilly dressing room. Another surprise was the room that was set up as a ballet studio, complete with all around mirrors and a barre.
I settled, carefully, onto the love seat in the sitting room to consider my situation. Except for the brightly lighted red intercom switches in each room and every ten feet or so in the hall way, no controls of any type could be seen, not even light switches. Everything of that nature must either be hidden, probably locked away from curious eyes and fingers, or controlled from somewhere else in the house. Neither were there any clocks. Without my watch and with the lights on all the time, and I would quickly lose my time sense. Clever, Monique.
Only one of the accessible rooms had anything remotely resembling a bed - the oversized baby crib in the nursery. As comfortable as the furniture in this sitting room was, it was all far too short to lie down on comfortably. The hassock was too far away to put my feet up on while sitting in any of the seats. Besides, all of the pieces were immovably bolted down to the floor. Even the cushions were permanently attached to chairs and love seat. Without tools, I would not be able to make a comfortable bed in here.
"Nathan." Roselie's voice broke through my reverie. "It is time for your first treatment. Come with me, please." I rose shakily to my feet. My legs were already stiffening up from the unusual and extreme exercise. She led me to the doctor's office.
Inside she made me lay on the examining table and introduced me to the feminine indignity of the gynecological examination stirrups. Wrist cuffs completed the strict spread eagle position, my legs held aloft by the tall stirrups.
Something wet and warm covered the cheeks of my ass and the parts of my groin not covered by the chastity. In my strapped down condition, I could not lift my head high enough to see over the false breasts in my corset to see what Roselie was doing down there. A scraping sound was accompanied by a pulling, tearing, scratching feeling on my butt. She was shaving me. I went very still. Also rigid. It seemed to take forever.
"Relax, Nathan. I can't get in between the cheeks with you clenching like that and I have been ordered to shave you there, as well." It was not easy, but I managed to unclench enough for her to get the razor in. Finally, mercifully, it was done.
Did I say mercifully? Aqua Velva or what ever aftershave she put on me made me want to scream. "Almost done, Nathan, hang on just a little longer." The straps came off and I stood, carelessly, trying to reach and soothe my butt. I tripped on those damnable heels and almost fell, catching myself with Roselie's help at the last second. "Easy, Nathan, you have to go slowly. You can snap an ankle in heels this high. We have one last thing to do right now." She held up a pair of black stretch panties. "You are going to wear these for now, Nathan." She turned them inside out to show me two inserts that would sit directly over each buttock. I reached out to touch them - they were stiff, short hairs - much like one of those nylon scrubbing pads. Under normal circumstances, those inserts would make moving or sitting irritating; after the shave and alcohol treatment, they would make the slightest movements infernal.
Roselie knelt and held the panty open for me. Balancing on the examining table, I stepped in first one leghole, then the other. Roselie worked the extremely tight garment up my legs and smoothed them over my hips and butt. It was felt like sitting on a pincushion, like my ass had been set afire. There was no way I could possibly sit on those inserts.
"You will wear those until I remove them, Nathan. Remember that she will know if you take them off." Her tone was apologetic. She reached over to a table and handed me an envelope. "Monique ordered me to give this to you at this point. I don't know what is in it. I have to leave now, Nathan. Get some rest, dear. You will need it."
I followed her out of the room, and watched her ascend the stairs to upper house. Where to go? I could not sit, not with those inserts on my shaving abraded butt making standing hellish. Sitting would be unbearable. I could not remain standing either. The heels were putting terrible stress on my shins, ankles and knees. So I had to lay down on my stomach. I had a choice. I could lay on the floor, or I could lay down in the one bed available - which is exactly what Monique intended.
I went to the nursery and, after lowering the gate on one side, crawled into the adult sized baby bed. Getting off my feet was wonderful and almost balanced the burning of the panty pads.
Propping myself up on my elbows, I opened Monique's letter.
I am looking forward to watching the filmed record of your torments. By now, you are dealing with clothes that hurt you, and with the uncertainty that comes from not knowing when or where the next hurt will come from. How long can three days be, Nathan? Three days of anxiety, discomfort, loneliness? I think it will be very long, indeed.
I am not sure you will be forgiven, even after this, Nathan. You hurt me that badly. Think about that, in your own hurt, in your isolation. Is all this worth it? Can you take all that I have planned for you, without the assurance that I will forgive you in the end? I doubt it. I think you will choose to walk out that door and take the easy way out.
If you do quit, then the first thing I will do on Monday is process a transfer for you. It will be a promotion, but it will also entail a cross country move to the west coast.
I love you, Nathan Edwards. But right now, I also hate you, and I most certainly do not like you very much.
Suffer well, and for as long as you can, Mr. Edwards. I don't expect to find you there when I arrive, but it will be nice to have enough film to make this worthwhile.
Well, that said it all. Too well. Well, I would suffer well, and I would be there when she arrived. I hid the note in the fake cleavage at the bodice of my corset. Whatever else, I would not let Roselie see this.
Settling my body as comfortably as I could, I tried to rest. I could not lie on my stomach - the boobs got in the way, and I could not lie on my back because of the panties. Finally, I managed to curl into a position with my hips sort of down, with my torso lying on its side. I would not call it precisely relaxed, but it solved the worst of my problems so that I could fall into a light, restless slumber in the harsh florescent lights of Monique's nursery.
As Monique had intended, I lost all concept of time. Experiences were quickly reduced to one of two possibilities - time alone in solitary discomfort and with my own dark thoughts, and time of extreme (and often painful) sensation at the hands of Roselie.
Roselie came to me often in those unmarked minutes that probably (although I was never quite sure) clicked into hours. Mostly she arrived while I was sleeping. I wondered, after the third or fourth such wake up, if sleep deprivation was part of the treatment. And each time she came to get me, I learned something new about discomfort and about humiliation.
When she awoke me in the baby bed, she fed me from a baby bottle. Only instead of a nipple, this bottle was topped by an realistic, lifelike dildo about six inches long that was connected to a straw inside the bottle. I had to suck hard to get the fluid out of through the hole in the end of the artificial phallus. It was bitter and had a slightly salty taste. "Mistress Maria's artificial semen, Nathan. It is the only fluid or food you will be allowed while you are here. It contains enough protein and enough fluid to keep you healthy, so you need to drink all of it." Hunger and thirst won out over a desire to throw a very babyish tantrum and I worked at sucking down the thick, phlegmy fluid.
That is when I found out something new about Roselie. She had nurse training. She led me to the locked bathroom where an enema awaited me. She flushed me out three times before she let me empty my bladder. At least I was rid of the panties. The trade off was that I got my butt scoured with soap and a brush after voiding the enemas. After letting me out of the room, Roselie locked the door again and left me alone once more.
I think Roselie came to me no fewer than a dozen times more. The bathroom routine was the same - enemas and scourings. By the third time, any embarrassment at having a lovely woman watch me perform those intimate functions had been burnt out of me. I was put in bondage and left for extended periods of times. I was suspended on my feet and ankles, tied to that rack and left in the standing pillory. I was put in head harnesses, gagged, and hooded - forced to feel my way around while crawling (since I did not dare walk in those infernal heels) blindly in those unknown rooms. I was worked through progressively larger ass plugs, and I was corporally disciplined.
Roselie proved to be a very skilled flagellatrix. She brought me to tears with her hand, hairbrush, crop and paddle. Even without the steady irritation of those infernal panties, between the plugs and the swats, my ass was kept highly sensitized and sore.
Gradually, inevitably, my reserves depleted, to the point where, even the pain of a just completed paddling, did not keep me from falling off into an exhausted sleep as soon as she left me.
Movement when I was awake became increasingly difficult. The heels put continuous stress on muscles that were not used to bearing that type of load. Leg cramps and muscle strains became constant companions. My insteps and the balls of my feet felt like I was walking on boils from the unnatural angle the shoes forced my feet into.
Roselie was not much better off than I was. She looked more weary every time I saw her. Fatigue sapped her ability to school her features at my condition and I saw her growing dismay at my increasing physical frailty. I think she started rebelling, too, because unless my nerves were too overloaded to feel everything, the last couple of spankings were nothing like what she was capable of giving me. I only hoped she was not going to come to odds with Monique over this. She was not happy, and more than once, I caught her muttering angrily to herself about the stupidity and severity of what was going on. I think the only thing that kept her following the plan at all was the encouragement I gave her at the end of each little scene.
Something had to give soon, though. I was approaching the limits of my endurance. Roselie knew it; I knew it. "Dammit, Nathan. I don't care what you did. Nothing is worth this. God, I don't know why you have not pulled the plug and left her. This is insane. What did you do to piss her off like this?"
"Something that hurt her very badly, Dear." I tried to smile, but I don't know how well I succeeded. "It is okay, honest. I won't leave." She threw her arms up and stalked off muttering again. In any case, leaving was no more an option then than it had been before. Hell, I was not even sure I could make it to the exit if I wanted to.
Slowly, I awoke again. Something was prodding insistently at my sore and tender buttocks. This was different from all the however many times I had been pulled from sleep. Something else was different this time, too. The face looking down at me was not surrounded by a halo of curly blond hair. It was not Roselie this time. Monique was here.
So, it was time to begin the ending. Carefully, I crawled out of the crib onto legs stiff with pain. The simple act of putting weight on my ankles and toes was nearly excruciating. I held the crib rails for balance I could no longer take for granted and faced Monique.
"Hello, Nathan. I am rather surprised to see you still here." She was dressed in a gray, two piece workout set. One of those stretchy halter and thigh shorts things that cling like a second skin, but do not inhibit movement during aerobics. Her hair was pulled back into a pony tail. She even wore sweat socks and running shoes. I looked back at her face in some surprise. She smiled, a dark foreboding smile I never want to see again. There was no mischief in that smile, only blunt and obvious intent.
"I see you have noticed my outfit. There is nothing the least bit sensual about my mood or about my plans nor as you have noticed, about my clothes. I do not intend to domme you, Nathan. I told you that. I am going to be working out. Working out hurt, working out anger, working out disappointment. Now, are you still intending to go through this? I warn you - it will be terrible. I intend to break you, Nathan. I can't hurt you the way you hurt me, but I can bring you pain that might give you the slightest inkling of what I felt when you betrayed me by not trusting me in front of my friends. I intend to make you scream and to make you beg me to let you leave. Which of course, I will do. And then never see you again."
"I won't leave, Monique. Let's get this over with." I tried to inject confidence I was not feeling into my voice.
"Very well, turn around." I did. Her hands went to the chastity I had been wearing. It came undone and hung by the plug lodged in my ass. She pulled it out suddenly, the suction force of it nearly unbalancing me. Before I completely recovered, another strap was circling my waist. Again, I silently cursed the damned corset because the absurd breast forms kept me from seeing what was happening.
Firm, yet gentle hands stuffed my penis and scrotum into some sort of hard cup and then a strap was pulled tightly between my legs. "Bend over and relax your ass, Nathan. This will hurt in any case, but I don't wish to damage you permanently." I tried to comply. It felt like my ass was being split - worse than anything she had ever done to me there before, even the night she first penetrated me there. I fell against the mattress and just laid there while she began adjusting the appliance. What I thought was one strap between my legs became two, and they were fed up between the cheeks of my ass to the back of the waist belt. Once connected, and then tightened, their effect was to pull my buttocks apart, leaving the crease between my cheeks open, accessible and vulnerable.
>>SMACK<< An open handed blow struck me and brought me upright in surprise. "You are prepared, now, Nathan. You aren't ready, even though you may think so, but physically you are prepared. That toy I just put on you serves two purposes. First, it makes some very interesting nerve endings available to me and my strap." My ears perked up. So she was going to use the strap. Well, she had made it the bogey-woman of her corporal arsenal all along. I should have expected it. "Secondly, it protects your male anatomy from any missed hits. I expect to be very tired when we finish, Nathan, and my control of the strap may suffer from fatigue. I want to hurt you, but I don't want to cripple you for life. Some woman might want to use that part of you in the future and I would not want to deprive her of its full potential." Some woman. Direct hit. Don't give me the slightest bit of hope, Monique.
Grimly, I hung on to the words in her notes. She still loved me. That had to be enough to get us both past this.
"Enough of this. I will strap you in the formal sitting room. I am not going to use the pillory or the block, Nathan. When" her emphasis on that word was awful and made me all the more determined to stay and gut this out. "When you decide to leave, I do not want to have to be bothered with having to release you. Your code word stops it, Nathan, but then you will have to leave via the back door and we will be through. Now, go get ready."
"I won't quit. Besides, why should the word mean anything now?" A thought hit me. "Monique, please send Roselie home, first. She won't be able to handle this, and you will need her."
Monique looked startled, then shrugged. "She is upstairs asleep. She won't even know what happened. Now move, Mr. Evans. I find myself quite eager to hear you scream."
I rose jerkily to my feet and bowing formally to the Mistress Monique, turned and left the room. The new chastity's larger plug shifted uncomfortably as I carefully went into the hallway.
I passed into the special sitting room and headed to the love seat. I stopped in front of it. No restraints. Whatever came, I was on my own. Well, I'll make it as good as I could. I selected the love seat so I could kneel on the it length wise and wedge my feet and hands under the cushions to keep from breaking position, while still giving Monique full access to my backside.
I did not wait long at all. A tongue of white hot fire cut across my buttocks. Monique had arrived. I looked between my legs and saw her. She had not changed from her grey exercise outfit. I had half expected to see her in some type of Bitch Mistress attire, but she had held to her promise. She was not there to dominate.
Another blazing cut, this one just above my thighs. That was virgin territory; Roselie had not prepared me there. It hurt like fury. "And what, if anything do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Evans? Anything in your defense for the crime you committed against me? Anything that can excuse your complete lack of faith in me as the woman who loves you and as your domme?"
"Nothing, Mistress." What could I say? I was here because I had used a code word, and she could not accept that from me. Four rapid blows seemed to cover every square inch of my now flaming ass, top to bottom.
"It sounds to me as if my training of you is what is being called to question here, sir. What have I ever done that would cause you to doubt me that way?"
The question was rhetorical because another series of lightning strikes stripped me of control and the power of speech. The world was starting to spin. I took a deep breath. The scent of Monique's musk was strong. Everything about me was her. My pain was her design. Every sense was overwhelmed by her. I still loved her. "Nothing, Mistress."
I could hear the sneering scorn in Monique's voice. "Then I will simply have to correct you, won't ?. Present, Mr. Evans." I lifted myself and waited to be taken to hell's darkest corner. I was not disappointed.
Time loses meaning during periods of extreme stress. Many of my memories of combat and combat training are like that, particularly those memories associated with death and killing. Slips of memory, jumbled in no real order, are all I have of parts of what followed. Wishing for the leather bit so I wouldn't bite myself. Biting into the cushion of the couch as a substitute. Monique berating me for my childish yelling and crying.
Monique applying smelling salts to me, once, twice, I don't know how many times. Monique moving to my head and settling her knees on my hands so I could not move them, pulling my face into her crotch so that every reflexive move of my head brought my nose in contact with her cloth covered pubis, into the moist, heated crease of her arousal. The blows changed then, hurt differently. Can't breathe well. I can't remember the stroke count. Monique screaming for me to ask her, ask her. Ask her what? To forgive me? I had, hadn't I? Such a hot, red, fiery and lonely place to be in. So alone. I could hear my heart beating and could feel its rhythm in the pulsing throb of my no longer numb backside.
"Oh .... my .... God. What am I doing?" Monique's voice was straining with emotion. "Damn you. I can't do this! Even though I want you to hurt, I can't hurt you like this or this way." Something whistled over my head. Fighting back the pain, I lifted my freed head to see where the strap had landed across the room. "Damn you, but I still love you and I can't go through with this anymore."
Suddenly, her hands were pulling me out of my crouch and onto my feet. I could barely hold myself up, but I called deep within for reserves I did not know I had, knelt before the Mistress Monique. Reparations had to be made and made in full.
"Mistress, Have I made adequate and proper restitution for my failure?" The words came out in gasps, in a raspy whisper I did not recognize as my own voice.
"Oh, God, Nathan, quit. I've hurt you, terribly." Her voice was ragged with fear and tears. "I don't believe I did this."
I thanked her, reassuring her, that any session I left under my own power was not that terrible. She looked as if she thought I was lost. "Nathan, please stand. Let me take care of you." I tried to stand on my own and had to have help. My stomach rolled and I swallowed back the nausea. Once to my feet, I shook off the helping hands.
When I turned to the door, I saw the other implements laid out on one of the tables - her crop and a wicked looking whip that I had never seen before. I shuddered, knowing I could not have stood much more.
Straightening my shoulders, I turned and, with as much dignity as I could muster, shuffle-walked out of the room. Monique was out the door right behind me and stepped ahead to unlock the door that led to the main house. Still hobbling in the heels, I needed her help to reach her bedroom. Once inside, I had one priority - alleviate some of the misery centered on my backside. "Please unlock the belt, Monique." Was that lifeless voice mine?
Monique moved quickly to her dresser and came back to unlock the small padlock. She then unbuckled the front of the chastity. The cup was filled with urine. There was no way to control the reflex under the strap, particularly when I had fainted. I think I wet myself the second time I went under. I shuffled to the bathroom with Monique hunched over the cup, trying to keep it from spilling. She looked horrified. We emptied the cup into the toilet. I vomited uncontrollably into the toilet, but there was precious little in my stomach to come up. Monique helped support me as my still corsetted stomach heaved and retched, and then gave me some water to rinse my mouth. Monique gently cleaned my penis and groin with a soft wash cloth, to get rid of the odor. Then Monique went behind me to remove the butt plug.
The instant her hand touched my bottom I collapsed on the floor in agony. Monique pulled the plug free in one motion that brought me to my knees to flee. I tried to stand and could not. I crawled toward the bed. Monique was beside me, walking on her knees, crying. I fell onto my side on the bed, trying to protect my ass from any more hurt.
She left and returned with a glass filled with an dark liquid. "It is flat coke, Nathan. Drink it. You need the fluids and it will help settle your stomach." She held a straw to my lips and I sucked it down rapidly.
"Well, Monique," I managed to croak, "We really need to talk. I need.... to ... understand..." The world was spinning. I was so leaden.
Her hand came down, cool and soothing on my forehead. "It is okay, darling. I put something in your drink to help you rest." The world closed down as she petted me and I realized something.
I still did not know what time or day it was.
I awoke alone to find a note pinned to the pillow next to mine.
I must have made your drug a little stronger than I intended. Probably just as well since rest is what you need more than anything right now. Have the breakfast I left you on the nightstand and then drink the stuff in the juice glass. It is a milder dose of what I gave you last night. You should be awake around when I get home.
As promised, a thermos of coffee (decaff if I know Monique at all) and some pastry sat on a tray. Beside the tray was my watch. I snatched it up and looked at the display. 10:30 AM. Monday. I felt like Scrooge after the spirits left, not knowing what day it was.
Then I made my first mistake. I moved my lower body.
Deep muscle bruises pulled against newly forming adhesions, strained muscles rippled and I fell back down, panting. Then I noticed. I was not dressed - the outfit I had worn since Thursday night was gone. Carefully this time I rose up a little and looked around the room.
The shoes and the corset were in a little pile beside the bed. Beside them, bits of cord lay in a little knot. She must have cut me out of the damn thing. I wondered if the damn thing was repairable, but hunger beat out curiosity, and I wolfed the breakfast. Monique would have to live with crumbs in her bed.
I refused to crawl to the bathroom, which made that 20 foot round trip exhausting. It also aggravated my injured backside to the point that by the time I got back to bed, any foolish, macho impulse to not drink Monique's potion died a fiery death. I fell asleep within a few minutes of drinking the drug.
I next awoke to find Monique sitting in a chair next to the bed, looking very anxious. She had a hankie in her hand and the poor thing was just about shredded. Tears had made tracks of black mascara down her face from red rimmed eyes.
She noticed my small movements and moved quickly to kneel beside the bed. She brushed my hair out of my eyes and looked at me carefully. "How are you?" she whispered.
I mentally took stock before answering. "Okay, so long as I don't move." Twinges told me that any movement would force a repeat of that morning's experiences. Unfortunately, Nature's call was rapidly growing insistent. "Which I have to do, Monique. I have to go to the bathroom." She moved to help me up and supported me as best she could to the bathroom. One bright spot was that the liquid diet I had been consuming for the past four days meant I could stand up to handle that piece of business. The thought of sitting on a hard, unyielding toilet seat was daunting to say the least.
For all Monique's help, I was still hurting when I got back to the bed. She insisted on examining me in intimate detail, before letting me cover myself again. "You are one huge bruise from the top of your buttocks to the backs of your knees. Some bleeding, mostly from the anus where that last butt plug split you a bit. I will keep an eye on it, and rush you to the hospital if is shows any signs of infection." She stopped in mid spate. "That is, I assume you don't want to go to the hospital?"
I shook my head. "I could never explain this, and neither could you. Speaking of explanations, how is Roselie?"
She sat back down and took a deep breath. "Curious. Greatly concerned. Not at all happy with her part in this or with me. She told me that my little plan of sleep deprivation was pure and simply torture. By Saturday night, she'd had more than enough of it so she stopped it. The plans I left behind called for her to wake you up every time you fell asleep. She was to watch the monitors, and then rouse you within 30 to 60 minutes of you falling asleep for the trainings. She stopped doing that in time for you to get about 9 hours of uninterrupted sleep immediately before I arrived." I nodded my understanding. It was no wonder I was so exhausted. The sessions probably lasted in excess of one to two hours a piece, easily longer than I was sleeping each time. To make matters worse, I would just be falling into deep sleep when she would awaken me for the next act in Monique's little play, thus depriving me of the most restful sleep time.
"Anyway, she wanted to come see you tonight, but I told her to wait until tomorrow when you had a chance to catch up on your sleep. She needed the rest, too. She might not have been undergoing the disciplines you were, but overseeing them put her on edge, too, and she was awake all the time you were, as well."
"I will try to put on a good face for her tomorrow, Monique. I don't want you and her to be at odds over this."
Monique broke down at that. I tried to move to her, but was stopped by wrenching hurt in my hips and backside. I watched helplessly as she cried in great racking sobs. "Why? Why on earth are you concerned about that? I should think it would not concern you in the least that I lose her over this. I don't understand this. Hell. I don't understand you."
"I love you, and somehow, I hurt you. I won't hurt you more. I don't understand what I did, precisely, but I know that you were deeply hurt by it."
She stopped crying and sat very straight. I watched her collect herself, as if facing a fate she could not avoid, but which she knew would destroy her. "Nathan. I had a call today. It was from Clarrisse, one of the women that was there that night in San Francisco."
"I recognize the name. I found out she was Mistress to the little blond waitress who served us,... errr... you. She also told me that the place we were at was a D/S specialty place, and that the whole thing was leading up to a party on one of the other women's place. Only I messed it up."
"Nate? I have to ask a question. Clarrisse said that you told Dianna, her submissive, that you used your safeword. Dianna said that you said that I ignored its use."
I was somewhat nonplused by this. "Well, yes, I did use it. I figured that you decided that I had used it inappropriately."
"Oh, god, no." Her voice was a harsh whisper, trembling with emotion. "When? God, Nathan, when did you use it?"
Thoroughly confused now, I shrugged and instantly regretted the movement. "Right before you slapped me. After that, exhaustion, anger, humiliation took over and I lost it completely. That is why I did not follow you immediately."
"Oh God. You are blaming yourself. Lord, that is what you meant yesterday when you said the code word would not matter, anyway. You did not mean that you were concerned that I would banish you. You simply did not believe that using it would stop me. Oh, God. That would be so funny if it was not so tragic." She laughed hysterically and then broke down into a wailing bawl. "Oh god. I have got to get out of here.. have to think." She stood and ran from the room, leaving me alone again.
She did not return for hours. My weakness overwhelmed me once more in the early hours of the morning and I fell back to sleep.
Cool air and cooler hands on my fevered backside brought me suddenly awake. "Easy, Mr. Evans, let me get a good look at you." a gentle voice said behind me. I recognized that voice - Doctor Danvers, Monique's domme physician friend. Gentle hands carefully examined me, but it still caused me pain when she pressed down, or pulled my cheeks apart to inspect for damage. Finally, she finished and took a seat in the bedside chair.
"Well, it has been a long time since I have seen a hiding to match this one, Nathan. You are going to be in that bed for a good three or four days more. She was careful not to cut you, though, so there is no danger of infection from that. I will give you an antibiotic for that hemorrhaging around the anus, but that should not be a problem."
"Hello, Jennifer. How did you get here?"
"Monique called me in, Nathan."
That frightened me. Had she left me and called in Jennifer to see to me? "Is she here?"
Jennifer nodded as she prepared a needle. "Yes. Downstairs. She is convinced you will not want to see her since she broke your trust by ignoring your safe word, and then compounded that by punishing you, quite brutally in my opinion, without a hearing." She stood up and inserted the needle directly into the meaty part of my buttocks.
"Ouch! Dammit, you could have warned me, Jennifer. But, wasn't it my fault? Didn't I overreact? Use the word where it was inappropriate?"
Jennifer sat back down in the chair. She became pensive, apparently choosing her words carefully, and then looked at me intently. "You tell me, Nathan. Was the scene more than you could handle? Were your limits being exceeded without negotiation? Were you given a chance to express that to your Mistress in a manner that would permit the scene to continue, but at a level of intensity more in keeping with your ability to tolerate at the time?" She gave me a sharp look and my face gave me away. "I thought so. You love her so much, too much probably, that you probably took too much before code wording. It is a common failing among submissives, particularly those who submit principally to please the one with dominant leanings." She sighed and took a sip from a glass of water that she had evidently brought with her. "Nathan, a code word is never out of line if it means what it is supposed to mean in a scene - in other words, that this is going too far. It does not have to mean too much pain or too much discomfort, it simply means too much, and that whatever that is too much has to stop - now! For whatever reason, Monique did not stop."
"Is that why she isn't here?"
"She did not think you would trust her knowing how she had broken faith with you."
I saw red! "Get her up here." I growled.
"Now wait, Nathan, just a minute.."
Ignoring her and the pain, I dragged myself out of the bed and headed for the door, bellowing, "Monique! Monique! Get up here - now!" She was through the door in an instant. It was none too soon, either because the adrenaline ran out and I started to fall. She and Jennifer caught me and helped me back to the bed.
"Try that again, Mr. Evans, and you won't wake up for the next two days." Jennifer told me severely.
I simply locked eyes with Monique, who now stood like a statue, waiting for something. She got something, but not what she expected. "Damn you, Monique. Damn you for a coward. I went through hell for you, because I love you. You will damn well not run and hide behind others when you would not let me do so."
"But I ignored your safeword, Nathan. I never heard it, or if I heard it, it never registered, but I still ignored it. In truth, I never expected you to have to use it in that scene, but you did use it and your ultimate protection against abuse was ignored. That is unforgivable."
"No it isn't. I forgive you. I will simply have to be more forceful next time I use it. Damn it, Monique, haven't you figured out yet that the worst thing you can do to me is leave me??"
"You can't mean that."
"How can I not mean it? After what I went through for you? To be with you? Now, the question is, do you still love me?"
"Of course I do. That is why what I thought you did hurt me so badly. And it is why I could not finish what I started on Sunday."
That brought Jennifer up with a start. "Not finish? My God, Monique, what more could you have done to the man? For the love of God, look at him!"
Monique looked at the floor in shame. "I was going to cane and whip him, Jennifer. Only I couldn't do it."
Jennifer was furious. "Damn right you couldn't. I would ask what you were thinking of, but it is obvious you were not thinking. Was your intent to cripple him?"
"That's enough, Doctor." I said with the quiet command voice of twenty years of Navy life.
"No it is not, Mr. Evans. She has grossly abused someone who came to her in love. When Sondra hears of this.."
That caused a burble of amazed laughter to break the Doctor's tirade. "I would be careful what you say, Nate. If you decide to stay with this woman, you will probably end up submitting to Sondra so that she can test the extent of your training and evaluate her student's work."
"Not bloody likely, Jennifer. I submit to Monique - no one else."
"And if she orders it, or asks it of you?"
"I say no. And Monique will accept that."
Jennifer smiled. "Yes, at this point, I expect she will. Well, where does this leave us? Am I a fifth wheel?"
"Yes." Two voices answered. Monique spoke. "Jen, your room is ready for you. Get some rest, please. Nathan and I obviously need to talk."
"I guess you do. All right, then, I will see you both in the morning." She left two pills on the nightstand. "Take those before bed. They will help you rest." And then she left.
"Well, now what?" Monique asked, looking very uncertain.
"I could use a hug." I said, trying to take a light tone. I scooted over to make room on the bed. Monique pulled off her shoes and carefully slid in beside me. We wrapped our arms around each other and drew as close as we could. Warmth and caring flowed between us for the first time in weeks and healing began.
"Where do we go from here, Nate?"
"Where we want to together. I still want to be with you. Do you still want to be with me?"
"Yes, Nate, I do. It won't be easy, though. I still want to domme you, but I don't trust myself right now. I don't see how you can, either."
"Whatever is important, we will work out, Monique. We have to because the alternatives are simply unacceptable." I pulled her closer and we became silent again. After another while, Monique rolled over to get out of bed. She returned with water and the two pills Jennifer had left.
"You need to sleep, Nate. Take these and I will see you in the morning." I took the pills and handed her back the water glass. "Good night, Nathan my love. Thank you. I don't deserve you, but I am not stupid either. You won't ever be free of me." She bent down and kissed me. "I will stay until you fall asleep, love." She settled into her chair, but reached over to keep a light touch on my hand. I slept easily for the first time in over two weeks.
I spent the remainder of the week at Monique's house. Jennifer checked on me before leaving the next morning and left a few more of the pills. She gave them to Monique, telling me that she could rely on her to see that I took them when I needed them. "You would do something stupid like try to 'live' with the pain. Damned stupid if you ask me. Give me an honest masochist rather than a stoic quietly suffering in pain any day."
Roselie visited Wednesday evening for dinner. The muscle relaxers combined with three days of rest to give me some semblance of mobility. Enough, in any case, that Roselie was willing to be convinced that all was well. In actuality, dinner and an evening of sitting convivially in the den wore me down, and I was sore all over again the next morning. Fortunately, that was the last visitor I had to deal with, and the remainder of the week saw steady progress back to the realm of the functioning human. The best part was sleeping in Monique's arms every night.
Saturday, I returned home to pick up my mail at the post office and to take care of the bills. Monique came "to make sure you eat properly" and ended up spending the night. Sunday night, she reluctantly left to return to her place after trying unsuccessfully to talk me into coming back to her place. If I was ever going to get back to work, I needed the chance to try without her watching and wringing her hands over my least signs of discomfort. The way she was watching me, I figured she would try to keep me home if I grimaced while stretching in the morning. She left, pouting. I almost laughed. Coquettish pouting is not a talent my forceful and commanding lover has cultivated in her life.