A Bestiary of Unnatural Women (16 page)

She was completely submissive, silently
holding her arms up and waiting for me to clip them in place.

When her wrists were clipped up, arms were
held just above her head. She looked beautiful like that, all naked
and exposed and helpless.

I used the riding crop. I didn't bother with
the paddle or multi-strand thing. There'll be lots of time this
week to try everything. I didn't hit her as hard as I could but she
sure yelled and the crop raised some pretty good welts. I gave her
a couple of strokes across the shoulder blades, but mostly I aimed
for her butt. She was squirming around so much that sometimes I
caught her on she side of the thighs.

I put quite a few red welts on her. It would
be clear to anyone who saw her that she had taken a pretty good
licking.

She was crying real tears, but she didn't say
anything when I unclipped her from the chain.

I was hard as a rock so I pushed her to her
knees, dropped my pants and made her suck me for a while. She's
done that for me before a little bit but she always made it clear
that she never liked it much. This week it doesn't matter what she
doesn't like. After a couple of minutes, I pushed her head to the
floor, walked around behind her and finished up doggy style.

It sure felt good.

Emily's Diary

Monday, 5 February 1973

The bastard! He whipped me black and blue
with the riding crop. It hurt like hell and I've got welts all over
my legs and back. How could he do that to me? The bastard! I
thought that I could trust him to show a little good judgment. My
letter was pretty clear that the whole whipping thing was supposed
to be mostly symbolic; that the point of the week is supposed to be
about him getting all the sex he wants. It's not supposed to be
about beating me half to death. The bastard!

He didn't even care that I was screaming and
yelling in pain. I haven't cried so hard since I was a baby. The
bastard actually made me cry. For real. The bastard! I've got
black, raised welts across my butt and it hurts just sitting here.
The bastard!

He made me go down on him after he beat me
with the damned whip. That's expected, I guess, but he knows that I
don't like having him in my mouth. If he was going to beat me for
real, he could have shown a little mercy and left that part
out.

He took me from behind. I guess that was
somewhat merciful. If he'd taken me on the floor, I would have been
lying on my poor beat up butt and back and that would have hurt
worse than being on my hands and knees.

Then he made me cook dinner for him. Naked.
Well, almost naked. I put on an apron. I felt guilty doing that
much; I was afraid that he was going to punish me for wearing an
apron without his permission. Is that sick or what? But I had to
have something to wipe my hands on. I cooked a steak with onions
and mushrooms with a baked potato and a Greek salad on the side for
him. I'm glad that I stocked up the refrigerator. It just occurred
to me that I can't take the collar and cuffs off. If I have to go
grocery shopping, I don't have any clothes to wear that would hide
them. I packed up all my pants, high-necked sweaters, and underwear
into a big box yesterday and locked the box in the storage shed
with the lawn mower. That's where the keys to the collar and cuffs
are and Gene has the only key to it.

I wasn't allowed to eat when he was eating,
so I stayed standing beside the table, naked, while he ate, in case
he needed me to do anything for him: fill his wine glass, get salt
or pepper, whatever. He kept looking at me all the time that he was
eating. It was embarrassing. After he ate, he went into the living
room to read the newspaper while I fed myself. I wasn't hungry, so
I just finished off the salad and ate some bread and butter.

When I finished cleaning the kitchen, I went
into the living room and asked Gene if he wanted anything else.

He did.

He bent me over the dining room table and
took me in the rear. It hurt even though I had smeared a lot of
Vaseline up there into myself before he arrived this morning and I
was still slippery. Once he was inside me, it didn't hurt nearly as
much. When he was finished, he told me that I felt really good. I
think he's going to want to do this to me a lot over the next few
days. I'm going to have to keep my rear coated with Vaseline all
the time. Afterward, he made me get a wet washcloth from the
bathroom and wash him off. He told me that I better get him clean
because he might want me to suck him again. He didn't, though.

We watched television until bedtime. He kept
my hands clipped together behind my back and played with my chest
all night. I never guessed that he would want to spend so much time
feeling my breasts. They're kind of sore from all his pulling and
kneading.

My wrists are still clipped together, but
he's letting me have them in front of me so that I can write in my
diary like I always do before going to bed. So that's what I'm
doing now. Naked, sitting on my aching ass at my writing desk in
the bedroom, with my hands cuffed together, writing out every
humiliating detail of the most painful and humiliating day of my
life, wondering what ever possessed me to volunteer for this.

I must really, really love the bastard.

I wonder if he's worn out yet or if he's
going to take me again tonight. Am I going to have to sleep with my
hands clipped to my collar all night like in the book? I wonder if
he's going to wake me up in the middle of the night to whip me some
more like the valet did to O in the book.

I bet the bastard is going to do all of those
things to me.

It's going to be a long, long week.

Gene's Diary

Tuesday, 6 February 1973

I was surprised yesterday to find out how
much I liked sodomizing O. She's so hot and tight back there, it's
like she's grabbing onto me and squeezing. I'm going to do that
again today. Maybe more than once. I want her to be clean inside
when I do it, though, so I sent her out to the drug store this
morning to buy an enema bag and some Ex-lax tablets.

When I told her that she had to go out, she
looked like she didn't want to, but O doesn't get any say in the
matter, does she? I think that she was bothered because she was
wearing the leather collar and no clothes, but that's no big deal.
It's January in Cleveland, for heaven's sake, so she gets to wear a
coat and winter boots. She should be glad that it’s not the middle
of the summer. In her winter coat, no one's going to be able to see
anything. And if she gets into an automobile accident, it's not
like the doctor in the emergency ward is going to find her wearing
ragged underpants.

I don't know how closely I'm supposed to be
following the book. According to the book, I was supposed to get up
before dawn and whip the front and back of her thighs and leave her
standing chained in front of the window to watch the sun come up. I
noticed that she put an eye screw in the right place for that, set
into the ceiling about five feet back from the bedroom window. But
I was too lazy to set an alarm for myself and I slept in until
almost nine o'clock. I hope she doesn't mind. I'll have to give her
the pre-dawn beating tomorrow morning instead.

Maybe today I'll try out the whip with all
the strips of soft leather. I'm sure that she wants to know how
that one feels. Mostly, I'd rather just take her to bed and make
love to her but I wouldn't want to disappoint her and not use all
the equipment. After all, she's gone to a lot of trouble to get it
for me.

I hope she hurries back with the enema stuff.
I'm feeling like I want to go up her backside again soon.

Emily's Diary

Tuesday, 6 February 1973

Another day in hell. Which was appropriate
considering that it followed a night in hell. I never would have
guessed how hard it would be to sleep with my hands clipped to my
neck and my neck chained to the wall. Every time I tried to roll
over, I pulled on the collar and woke myself up.

I had to pee in the middle of the night and
couldn't get out of bed. By the time the sun came up, I had to pee
so bad that I couldn't sleep any more. I was lying there awake,
staring up at the chain and suddenly I realized something that I
hadn't thought of before. My wrists were clipped to my collar and
my collar to the chain and I couldn't reach those clips to undo
them, but the other end of the chain was clipped to the eye screw
above the head of the bed. It wasn't locked on. All I had to do was
stand up on the bed and I could unclip the chain from the wall.
Boy, let me tell you, I was in that bathroom lickety-split. I peed
and peed and peed some more. I never thought my bladder was going
to be empty. It was such a relief, you wouldn't believe it.

Of course, I couldn't flush when I was
finished because he might have heard and then he'd know that I
wasn't locked to the wall by the bed like I was supposed to be.

The night wasn't all bad, I have to admit.
When Gene first chained me up for the night, he made love to me the
regular way, except that I couldn't use my hands for anything
because my wrists were attached to my collar. All I could do was
hold his face and kiss him. But my legs were free and I could wrap
them right around him and pull him into me that way. It was
surprisingly sexy, not being able to use my hands much. And he was
kind of slow because he'd already done me twice earlier in the day.
I blush to say that I came like that. Twice. I never came twice
before. And then when he finally finished, he tucked me in so
carefully. But, of course, I lost the blankets almost as soon as
the light was out and couldn't get them back on right. So I was
cold for most of the night on top of not being able to turn over
without waking up and then needing to pee so bad.

I don't know if I should tell him that he has
to lock the chain to the wall to keep me in bed at night or not. I
ought to. It would only be fair. I am supposed to be helpless when
he wants me helpless. On the other hand, what he doesn't know won't
hurt him. If he thinks I'm locked in the bed all night and he
doesn't know any different, it'd be the same for him as if I really
was, wouldn't it?

The day started all right. He came into the
bedroom where I was lying, still pretending that I was trapped, and
he unhooked my cuffs from my collar and told me to get cleaned up.
I asked him if he wanted me to wear my special Roissy dress and he
looked surprised. I think he'd forgotten that I'd made one.

Showering was a bit of a problem because I
couldn't keep the leather collar and cuffs dry and then afterward,
couldn't dry my skin underneath them very well. They got kind of
stiff. I think they'll be totally ruined by the end of the week,
but I don't care. I won't be using them again anyway. I just hope
they aren't chafing my skin too bad by Friday.

I forgot about the wrist cuffs when I was
making the dress and it was a little hard to fit the sleeves over
them, but I got it on. Except for the padlocks, the cuffs aren't
much wider than my hands so I can manage by working the fabric
around the locks carefully. I made the dress from a pattern for a
regular long gown with a wide skirt like a ball gown. I used a pale
green satin because it highlights my eyes. Modifying the bust so
that it stops underneath my breasts instead of covering them was
pretty easy, though it flops a little in the front. I should have
added some stays to stiffen them. The shoulder straps have to go
around the outside of my breasts so sometimes they slip off the
shoulders a little but that doesn't matter. It's not like I have to
worry about the bodice flopping down and exposing me.

The only other modification that I had to
make was to attach some ribbons to the inside of the waistband in
the front and back and sew a couple of loops to the outside of the
waistband.

I also bought black stockings and a black
garter belt. In the book, a garter belt was permitted as long as O
wasn't wearing panties or a bra. The stockings have a seam down the
back, just like O would have had in the '50s.

When I finished dressing and went out to the
kitchen, Gene was already cooking eggs and toast. I guess I'm not a
total slave. I don't have to do all the cooking. It makes sense. In
the book, there were staff – cooks and servants and the valet – who
were separate from O and the other women.

Gene stared at my naked chest for a long
time. I asked him if he wanted me to display my front or back below
the waist as well. He said that he likes seeing my front, so I
raised the front of the skirt in a bunch to expose the two ribbons
hanging inside and then tied them to the loops on the outside of
the waistband to keep the skirt raised. His eyeballs almost rolled
across the floor, he stared so hard. I think he liked it.

I remembered that O wasn't allowed to sit on
her skirt, so I was careful to pull it out of the way and sit on
the chair with my bare butt while I ate. He told me to keep my
hands in my lap and he fed me one bite at a time like I was a
helpless baby. It was kind of an annoying way to eat, but if it's
what he wants, then I'm happy to do it that way for him. This
week.

After breakfast, things got bad.

He told me that he wanted me to clean myself
out by taking an Ex-lax and then giving myself an enema. I told him
that we didn't have any Ex-lax or enema equipment.

“So go buy it,” he said.

I thought that I'd spend all week in the
house. O never left Roissy in the book. I don't have any clothes to
wear outside, no panties, no bra, no slacks or sweaters. I had my
duffel coat and winter boots in the closet for emergencies – you
don't leave yourself without winter clothing in February in
Cleveland if you want to survive – but one mid-thigh-length wool
coat that has lapels open to my cleavage is hardly enough to make
me feel secure.