Face (Sex, Power, Love) Ch. 17

Faithful to Gina's command, I bowed. Naked, arms and knees spread, ass arched in presentation, immobile as an ice sculpture but for shallow, shivering breaths I could not quiet, I kissed Anna's floor. The chilled chain hooked to my bound testicles ran up though my buttocks and slithered down the supplicant bend of my spine. I did not dare look up, not even to catch a last glimpse of my sun, my Gina, abandoning me to the darkening tyranny of Goddess Anna's strict male correction regime.

I caught fragments of Gina's goodbye. "Do I love him? It is true that I have feelings for him...beat him, hurt him, and abuse him...knowing what you are doing...enjoying myself freely... think of him as thoroughly debased...love him...ready to whip him without mercy; ready to love him..." Love him, love him, love him—joy.

Whips—love. Abuse, pain—love. A clanging, tumultuous discord rang through my head, "Gina said she might allow herself to love me. Heaven. I am to be beaten and abused, but all for Gina. Heaven. Anna will send me back to Gina when she's done with me and Gina will whip me without mercy...but love me? Still heaven. Gina, please beat me; please use the whip if that is what takes to win your love. Show no mercy, waste no pity, but Gina, please love me." Bells pealed. My head hurt.

"I will report our progress to Ashley."

"Gina will report to Ashley? That bitch of a boss sent me to this 'counseling' to cure, really punish, what she had declared was predatory sexual harassment. The bitch claimed I raped my secretary Maria. Rape? I didn't even fuck her. The girl begged me to suck her cunt, and so I did. But no one listened, and how could I explain to Gina. She laughed then screamed at me when I tried, and why shouldn't she? Could I say, 'Gina, I just went down on the girl because she had asked me to eat out her pussy? You know, just to be polite, just to check it out, just a taste. No big deal.' Right? Wrong. Ding, dong.

"Still, Ashley and that weird lawyer of hers had made it all look inexcusable. Ok, I so owed some recompense because I had been bad. Counseling should be no big deal, right? But whipping, what kind of therapy was that? And it hadn't occurred to me that Gina might report to my bitch-boss on the details of my "cure" or that she would leave me behind in the hands of, what did she call herself, a couples counselor? Anna, a therapist? No way, but what was she?" Ringing bells, fucking bells, bells, bells, bells—all in my head, fantastic ringing too harrowing to be true.

"Anna, Ashley, and Gina, were they all in this together? What would Gina report, and why? 'Today I handed Eric over to Anna to be whipped into shape. She will turn him into the most submissive male imaginable. We tied up his cock and balls, and filmed him kneeling on the floor naked, signing his life away. He agreed to be whipped, branded, and, well you know, all the usual stuff.' I imagined the girls sitting around having a giggle about the humiliation and destruction of Eric." The clapper of my stupidity banged in my throbbing head.

The goodbyes ended with an embrace, Gina hand me down to Anna, and the door closed. The door closed on everything I had been; the door closed on mercy. Could this hell become heaven? I closed my eyes and opened myself to Anna's merciless instruction. I knelt submissive, silent, and still as a slab of ice, posed per Gina's command. I awaited Anna. Heels clicked on the wooden floor proclaiming her approach. Fear and regret—the tension rang from my head through my gut as if on a wire run from my testicles to my dry, voiceless throat.

A coven of women were talking about me behind my back, laughing, and conniving. It was no longer just Gina, my love, but Anna, Ashley, Claudia, and who knew what strangers were in on the joke—even Shyanne? "Guess what we did to Eric today. Oh, you should have seen the cunt sucker squirm. We made him cry; it was so funny." Anna drew near.

Betrayal, humiliation, and guilt, the harmonic reverberation of emotional tones played a mocking lament for the lost man I had been and a fanfare for the slave I was to become. There was no way out; so let it be. "Let the women talk; let the girls laugh; let the entire feminine world use me to restore their womanly pride and remedy the slights and offenses suffered at the hands and cocks of men. I mean to be their balm. What I was is lost; let me become what I am to be—Gina's slave and whipping boy to be shared with all the world's aggravated, irate women. And Gina said she might love me. I am in heaven."

The rhythmic saunter of tapping heels closed. The prelude concluded with an interlude of silence. A gust of Anna's strangely scented cloud blew over me like an impending storm front. She took my chain, gripped it close, and jerked as if to hang me by my balls. The symphony's exposition commenced.

"And now to begin. Gina has made an excellent start. The truth is she is as expert as I am at constructing a slave. You are such outstanding raw material. You're pretty, handsome is not a word that befits a slave; deserving, the awful ways you've used women; but malleable, you're utterly sex-mad. Your lust may seem unruly to the weak girl, but your ever-ready cock is just a handy control knob for the sensible woman. I could conquer the most protected man, but your sex-crazed nature has left the back gate wide open. All you need is polishing up.

"We'll start with the whip. Gina has set up several video cameras by the whipping bench on the dais to record the proceedings. Go, put on the wrist and ankle shackles, and wait while I change into something more appropriate for man beating. I will chain you to the whipping bench for this introduction, but for future beatings, you will be expected to submit restrained only by your desire to acquiesce. And you will acquiesce; you may even learn to enjoy being whipped. Go."

Anna let lose my chain. Her heels clicked away. I kissed the cold wooden floor to thank my female tormentors for their generous attention. I kissed my old existence goodbye.

Chains lay upon the whipping bench, a simple steel and slate table set upon a raised platform. I sat dejectedly on the cold slate and listlessly affixed shackles to my wrists and ankles. I was so alone. Locks snapped shut and chains clattered on the cold stone tabletop. I was frozen to the core, but what right did I have to warmth? The whip—Gina had inflicted deep pain when she took my balls between her teeth and gnawed on me, but the whip? I didn't know if I could take that pain. On the other hand, once I let Anna chain me in place it wouldn't matter whether I could take it; I would get what Anna gave. I still could have run away, naked and in irons, but free. I didn't, and so what was to come, I deserved.

Anna returned wearing slick black riding pants tucked into calf length, flat-heeled boots. She didn't wear a top. The obscene allure of Anna's bare breasted saunter across the room blended into my anxiety and my cock again swelled against its cage. The accumulated pressure of three weeks of orgasm denial and constantly blocked arousal bore down on me.

Anna slapped a riding crop against her boot with each jaunty step. She approached like a highborn Lady off for an afternoon trot on her stallion, except, m'lady had forgotten to put on her riding blouse. Anna's casual display of her bare breasts seemed as natural and nonchalant as the artless flaunt of a naked cannibal girl off to market to fetch the evening meal.

Anna's breasts were not as large as I had imagined from the intimations enfolded in the white lace of her dress, but they were full, and perfectly formed. Anna was a well-preserved, mature woman, and the moderate heft of her breasts hung with the slightest sag. I thought of tropical fruits swinging in white sacks, sweet and succulent. Her nipples were slightly indented and encircled by large, round aureoles the color of a peach. Anna's tits swayed as she approached, she smiled brightly, and her thick, blushing tresses bounced a cheery dance.

Anna reached up to brush her hair from her glowing face. Following the smooth lifting of her graceful arms her breasts bulged and swung. Their fullness quivered in sympathy with the shifting articulation of the fine bones underlying her silky shoulders. Anna shook her head giving her dense curls a tumbling toss. Her mane cascaded down her bare back in rippling eddies. My lustful staring shamed me, endangered me, but I could not cast down my gaze.

"So you are ready for me my dear. Turn over and lie face down; I want to do your backside first. Extend your arms and legs to the corners so that I can chain your shackles to the table. Ah, you are such a good boy." Locks snapped. "There, that's nice and tight. Now you might struggle, but chained like this, succulent targets will always be easily available. It's ok to struggle; it's ok to scream. No one can hear you so don't be bashful. Sing for me; sing loud. I want you to react as if you were a normal man being whipped by a woman. I intend to beat that remnant of a normal man out of you. Next time you will be silent."

I obeyed. I offered my body to Anna. Chained down resistance would be impossible, just ludicrous, futile thrashing. I aspired to give, not resist.

The whipping bench, an ordinary coffee table constructed of black steel with a slate top, was a prosaic exception to the opulence of the rest of Anna's furnishings. I imagined how ordinary people might gather around just such a table for ordinary conversation, ordinary entertainment, and ordinary hors d'oeuvres and treats laid upon the table. "Darling, try some chilled man slave. It is quite delicious, especially when whipped until stiff." The cold slate sucked heat from my naked skin.

Anna stood over me savoring my fear and defenselessness, appraising my bound body, and considering where to begin. She gently wiped her crop across my back, my ass and the tender backs of my knees. Passion thickened her voice, "Oh, how I love this moment. To give a man his first taste of the whip. I can smell your fear. You have every reason the tremble like that. Did I say the whip was nothing; that you would learn to love it? I lied. The pain is intense, each time the pain will be scarcely bearable. However, you will come to accept it. You will accept it only because you will come to appreciate that your suffering pleases me as it will please all of your feminine rulers.

"But this first time will be unacceptable, unbearable, thus the chains. Only chains could force you to endure. In time, you will take the whip in silence if so commanded. But you will not be still this first time. That's good. I love the song of a screaming man. Up here in my soundproof home so high above the city, no one but I will hear, so scream, scream loud. Please, don't hold back.

"And I have seen you holding back tears tonight. You try to be such a manly man, brave and strong; you won't cry in front of the girls. No more. You will not be able to hold back after the whip strikes. So don't try. I love making men cry. Please, indulge me. Cry, bawl, whimper; make me happy. Sing for me.

"You have a nice body. You liked it when girls were nice to your body, didn't you? You liked making all those nice girls do dirty things for you, didn't you? You liked sticking your big bad filthy cock into all those cute faces and pretty pussies, down all those adorable throats and wet willing cunts, and filling all those nice girls, those sweet girls, those innocent girls, with your man slime. Those were girls; I am a woman. Now the bill comes due. Now you will pay with nice welts, pretty bruises, and cute cuts. Yes, I also love making men bleed. I am not one of your sweet dream girls; I am your nightmare woman, your bitch goddess.

"And so to begin. I could start slowly to let you acclimate to the sting of the whip, but you don't deserve that courtesy. Kiss the crop, kiss the implement of your torture, and we will begin. Good boy. This will be filmed, one moment."

Anna turned on camera lights. Brilliant light and deceptively soothing warmth washed over my clammy body. With a whoosh, Anna's crop tested the resistance of air. With regret, I realized my resistance to Gina and Anna had been less substantial than that air. Anna stroked my cheek with the flat end of her crop; my submissive need kissed it. Horrified, realization of I had done to myself set panic galloping, I bolted, but Anna's chains pulled back as if a horse's bit reining in my body. I looked back over my shoulder in a last desperate appeal for mercy.

Anna had raised the riding crop high over her head flexing it into a bow, testing its spring and strength. The tension revealed menacing strength in her sinuous arms. My desperation caught Anna's eye. Momentarily she posed, smiling broadly, her crop coiled for action. Anna's eyes laughed into the eyes of a man drained of hope but awash with yearning for her half naked body. She was flattered yet pleased to punish that lust. She knew no man could resist her charms, but she also knew only pain could compel fitting respect for any female from any male.

Then Anna bared her teeth in anger, her breasts bobbled, her hair floated, and she swung with all her strength. The crop pounced. The piercing crack of impact recalled unseasoned wood popping in a blazing hearth as the fire took hold.

The inevitable consequence of that explosion struck with full intensity after a slight delay. A scream followed with yet another momentary lag. Shocking pain paralyzed my voice as it stunned the whole of me for an enduring instant. The scream that ripped through the air didn't seem to be mine. The body ripped by pain didn't seem to be mine. The pain cleaved me from me; the scream was but the first piece to fly apart. The remaining pieces of me cowered in a jumpy heap of panic.

Anna let the moment ripen. The scream died in the rarified atmosphere of Anna's aerie high over the city. Taut stillness charged the space. When Anna deemed the vintage done, she decanted her pleasure. She sucked a deep breath, her crop whistled through the charged air, and Anna's reign began in earnest. I fell from my precarious remove into a caldron of screaming pain.

I wailed. The world became a rolling storm raining fiery hurt. I was possessed, devastated, swallowed. I wailed. All was whip, all hurt; Anna controlled all, even time—crack, tick; pain, tock; scream, tick; pain, tock. The pain would not end; the pain could not die; time had been transcended. Fast, furious, and enraged, Anna struck blow upon blow, brutal and zealous, up and down the whole backside of my body, her playground of flesh. Anna abandoned herself to a wild sadistic reverie.

Yes, I heard the repeated cracks of Anna's crop. My boiling mind grasped that the smacking sound was leather on skin, but no other shard of awareness or splinter of perception could maintain form in the jittering tumult that consumed me. The sound of Anna's slashing crop floated like froth upon the scorching, searing, boil of pain filling me, engorging me, engulfing me, and blotting out all else. She cut my illusion of personal identity to ribbons. My ego, once a clear pane on the world, was now opaque with crazy cracks and faults. Pieces were blown apart. Anna beat me; she beat me with a fervently driven wicked ecstasy. I suffered; she delighted. Anna beat me until her arm tired.

Throughout I sang to her. Well not I, but some demon that had hijacked my voice shrieked a faithful devotional hymn to its pain deity.

Suddenly, Anna stopped time's metronome. She paused, panting rhythmically, "Good, finally a bit of blood. Taste." Anna wiped the flat end of her crop across the burning flesh and offered it to the gasping mouth. The mouth took the crop and sucked drops of blood from it. "It's been a while since I had an orgasm just from the pure joy of beating a man. Continue to behave and I will let you attempt to do as well with your tongue." Anna knelt beside the heaving heap of me and picked up the face by its sweat-drenched hair. She looked in the eye and spit into the face. "Would you like to use your tongue? Would fuck face like to eat some pussy? Be good and that delight will be yours.

"Now the other side. I like to start with a man's backside because there I feel no need for restraint. But the front has such soft and vulnerable targets, even I feel the need for some limit; it can get messy. I'm going to release your arms to turn you over now. Don't be frightened. I will be gentle with your front; the worst is over. It is important that you remain passive. Anna will be nice to her obedient man. Now the right leg, turn over and we will hook it to the other side; that's a good man. Quiet yourself sweet boy. Now I'll attach the left ankle to the other side. Good, now you can lie face up and watch. Lie back and I will chain your wrists again. There, you are such an obedient boy whore. You must enjoy the crop. After that whipping, and even I must admit it was harsh, after that you so gently, so passively, submitted to being chained and whipped face up. You are a worthy slave.

"I promised to be gentle with your front, so just a soft slap on these worthless man tits. Now one for that cock bound up in its tight little cage. Look at that ball harness. It is so cute the way your balls pop out through the leather, a little slap for each. I know Gina told you not to worry about your balls being all tied up like that. She said it was safe. She lied. If you leave them tied too long and too tightly they will just die and fall off.

"I am going to release your cock and balls now. I want to beat them. I promised to be gentle with your front; I lied of course. No, this will be quite rigorous. There, do you feel the blood rushing in and filling your cock and balls. Oh my, look at that cock grow. Gina said you had a big one, but she didn't tell me how thick and hard it gets. It is lovely. It's such a proud rooster begging for attention with its ostentatious display. Most impressive, no wonder all those nice girls liked you so much. Let my crop give this flamboyant bantam some of that attention it's begging for.

"Oh, don't whimper so. That was just a love tap. See how gentle I can be? This foul, swollen monster needs a few judicious slaps to prepare it to pay the price for its evil conduct. Tell Dr. Anna when it hurts." Anna's riding crop slapped my cock with calibrated, increasing force.

"I think it is ready now. This will hurt so stay strong, now for a good penis bashing, now justice."

With that, Anna reared back and slashed her crop hard across the sensitive head of my cock. I screamed, jolting against my chains. A slicing anguish cleaved me. I took the shock of the blow, but unlike the blows upon my backside, this pain did not fade after the strike. To my horror, the pain gradually increased, cresting, gnawing. Its talons dug deep and hung on and on. My cock throbbed. I sobbed. Agony danced an insane jig around my mind and frolicked on the grave of hope.

"See I told you the front was vulnerable. But I did promise restraint. That's enough for your cock today. Already with just one real hit, a lovely purple bruise is blooming." Anna circled, her crop flicked here and there, her eyes fondled my flesh, and I cowered in terror. Her eyes sparkled; her smile danced; Anna was rapt in delight.

"The front is so vulnerable. The cock, the balls, the thin skin of the inner thigh, it is all fragile, even the delicate softness of the inner side of the arms and wrists. Yummy. You are one hot boy. Exposed and defenseless like this, your weakness is a delight. There is another part of your front you probably didn't think I would abuse.

"Your face, your pretty face, it needs to be slapped. You are the kind of man who should have his face slapped, and I am the kind of woman who will do it right. Soft at first, oh I love that look of terror. You didn't think I would whip your face did you? Don't dodge about like that. I could miss and do you real damage. All I want to do is to leave my mark, just one bruise. A little kiss on the cheek. Be still."