Innocence Lost

When the whip is finally brandished he squirms on the cross.  He is powerless but knows what to do.  Raise the mental pain threshold and go with it.  Soon, as each whip stroke is administered he is yelling out in both extreme pain and sexual ecstasy.  They were both in the zone; suppressor and suppressed, offender and victim, master and slave. Perspiration appears on Jerry’s forehead, then a line of sweat begins to run down his back.

‘‘You want more?’’ implores Christie.

‘‘Oh yes, Madam.  Give me a good thrashing, please.’’ He was loving it.   Then he turned to face her, sneered and said, ‘‘And when I get off this cross I’m going to fuck you.  Do you hear me, Christie?’’

It was that sentence ‘‘Do you hear me Christie?’’

Just like her father used to say.  Before the shocking abuse began.  The abuse that she had to keep secret from her mother.  Or he’d kill her and her mother then kill himself.  That’s what he’d say each time…

‘‘Yes, I heard you Jerry,’’ she replies and moves round to stand in front of him.  She could see his ugly face smiling grotesquely. ‘‘I don’t usually go down this particular avenue but I’m going to make an exception with you darling, okay? Best I remove these thongs then, eh?’’

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)