Chapter 53

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Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1995-2009 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.

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Erin's Adventures
Chapter 53
A Model of Jealousy

(****, F/F, Edgy, Bondage, whipping)

Heidi meets Domingo. (Approximately 2,567 words. Originally published 1998-02.)

The apartment was dark when I entered, and I naturally assumed Heidi was asleep or at Steve's. As I flipped on the main light, however, I found myself face to face with a grim American girl seated on the sofa, a long rattan cane across her lap.

"Why, Heidi!" I cried, my voice wavering slightly with nervousness at her expression. "Have you been waiting for me?"

"It is past two in the morning," she growled. "You were supposed to be here at six for your thrashing."

Blood coursed through my cheeks. "Oh! I-I forgot."

"Your 'forgot' to show up for your thrashing?" Heidi's eyes flashed such fire I felt an impulse to fall to my knees and beg for her forgiveness.

"Domingo and I -- "

"Domingo!" snapped Heidi, bringing the cane swishing through the air to land with terrible snap on a cushion. "It's always Domingo! Domingo this, Domingo that, Domingo the genius. I am sick of hearing about him!"

Despite my precarious position, I couldn't help but smile. "My God, Heidi, are you jealous?"

"I am not jealous!" Again the cane smacked the cushion, leaving a profound dent in it. "Now get over here for your thrashing. I shall make it double, no, _triple_, what I had intended!"

My knees buckled slightly. "But Heidi -- "

"Now!" The cane pointed to the center of the room.

I cringed. "You don't understand -- "

"One more word and you can just turn around and go out that door and never come back."

The words literally knocked me to the ground. I staggered, falling to my knees, moaning. _She couldn't mean it!_ I thought desperately. _She can't mean it!_

But Heidi's face was grim and hard, with a coldness I had never seen before. She was dreadfully hurt. With an ache in my belly I realized I had scarcely seen in her in the past couple months since meeting Domingo. He was so unlike anyone I'd ever known. When I was around him I forgot about everything and everyone else. It was terrible. I began to cry.

Crawling on the floor, I began to slip off my clothes. It was painful and awkward and shameful, but I didn't care. I deserved it, for hurting such a dear friend. I had no doubt she was going to whip me harder than I'd ever been whipped before, but that didn't frighten me as much as the thought of losing her. Without Heidi I'd be lost, a matchbox floating in an ocean storm. I needed her.

Naked, I crawled to her feet, kissing them. I pressed my head low, arching my buttocks up, and waited for the horrible pain.

Nothing happened.

Slowly I raised my head.

Heidi was crying. Tears pour down her cheeks, but she made no sound. The cane was in her hand, but she seemed to have forgotten she held it.

"You poor dear," she whispered suddenly, kneeling and kissing my shoulder. Her cool lips touched the whip marks across my back and moved downward in little babysteps, kissing and moistening the welts with her tongue. She kissed my buttocks and my thighs, weeping salty tears over my wounds. I, too, wept uncontrollably.

"He did this to you," she whispered finally, her hands touching my blistered skin.

I nodded, shuddering. "It was a bullwhip. I didn't think I could take it, but he went slow. We started this afternoon and finished a couple hours ago. The painting will take your breath away."

Heidi shook her head sadly, tracing a particularly sensitive welt across my upper back. "Why, dear Erin, why? This one, it will scar. Oh, you poor dear."

I shuddered, huge sobs choking me. "I'm sorry," I moaned. "I don't know why. He makes me _feel_ so much. You must come and meet him, Heidi. You must."

Heidi's face was cold again, and she shook her head. "No. This man sees too much beauty in pain."

"But so do I!"

"Yes, I know," she whispered, drawing near and kissing my lips.

But I was still afraid. "You won't make me leave, will you?" I begged. "Please tell me you won't. You can cane me all you want."

Heidi's red lips curled into a welcome smile. "Of course not. I-I shouldn't have said that. I was angry. And no, I shall not cane you. Not in your condition."

Despite my pleas and apologies, Heidi put me to bed immediately, and though she soothed my wounds with aloe vera, she did not stay in bed with me.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said, but in the morning when I awoke she was gone.

A week passed. My marks from the bullwhipping healed, though a couple of the more severe weals did leave faint scars. I would stand before the mirror in the bathroom and admire them, tracing them with my finger as best I could.

Heidi spoke to me rarely, and though I occasionally tried to encourage her to punish me, she did not. She wasn't cross with me -- at least she didn't appear to be. She was polite and kind, though a little distant and withdrawn. Nothing I said bridged the gap. We did not speak of Domingo, for that seemed to enhance the gulf between us. I found myself drawn more to him, seeking out his passionate love-making and dark conversations.

One evening, approximately three weeks from the bullwhipping, I asked Heidi a question. We were alone, quietly reading. I glanced up from my book. "Have you ever been tied up?"

Heidi stared at me. "What?"

"You heard me."

The girl blushed slightly and looked away. "Why do you ask?"

"Why not?"

She shrugged. "Yes. I had a boyfriend in Texas that used to enjoy that. His favorite was binding me spread-eagle on a bed."

I licked my lips. "Did you like it?"

"With him, not really. I think I wanted to trust him more than I actually did. With some men I can see how it could be pleasant."

I hesitated. "Domingo's going to tie me up tomorrow."

"Oh. Really?" Heidi crinkled her brow at her textbook as though concentrating hard. She was doing her best to act unconcerned, but I could tell she was tense.

"Yes. He's going to bind me into some horribly humiliating position and leave me there for hours while he paints me."

"Goody for you," mumbled Heidi, tossing her book aside. She headed for the kitchen. "Want some water?"

"No thanks," I said. "Anyway, I thought maybe you'd like to come to the studio tomorrow afternoon. I told him you might come."

I heard the refrigerator door close. Heidi came out of the kitchen carrying a glass of water. "I'm going to bed. Good-night," she said bluntly, and vanished down the hall.

I stared at my book and blinked back tears.

My excitement at the new adventure of bondage was dampened by Heidi's refusal to come, but I was committed. Domingo greeted me enthusiastically, the wicked grin on his face making me nervous.

"What have you got in mind?"

"Come," he said, rubbing his hands. "There!"

The petite stage had been transformed. A complex arrangement of pulleys, elastics, ropes, and leather bindings dangled from the wooden beams of the slanted ceiling. Despite my fear I discovered excitement building inside me.

"How does it work?" I asked breathlessly.

A half hour later I was inside the contraption, and in excrutiating pain. Actually, it wasn't that painful; it just seemed that way.

For the first time in a Domingo painting, I was dressed, at least according to Domingo's standards. I wore a black leather collar with shiny metal studs and knee-high black leather boots with sharp heels. Around my wrists were leather bracelets, padded on the inside to protect my skin, and connected together behind my back with a small silver chain. A harness made of strips of coarse canvas went around my chest, leaving my breasts woefully exposed.

I was suspended from the ceiling by an elastic cord attached to the harness in the middle of my back. This meant I could bounce up and down and sway. But don't think this was to give me any sense of liberty -- it was a taunt, nothing else. A thirty-inch wooden bar attached to the insides of my knees kept my legs well spread. My ankles were roped to pulleys high above me. This kept me facedown at a somewhat horizontal position, my wrists fastened together behind my back. These ropes were devilish. In truth there was only one rope -- it traveled from one ankle to the other via an elaborate trail across my body and across several pulleys. Everytime I shifted my legs the rope dragged across my various body parts, delivering a bizarre mix of pleasure and pain.

My breasts were squeezed in a wooden vise. The nipples, huge and extended, were pinched by small metal clamps with rings on the end. The rope passed through these rings on its trip around my body. An inverted clamp (the kind that springs open, not closed) spread my pussy lips open, allowing the coarse rope to settle right across the slit. The rope continued between my legs going right up the crack of my arse. Here it found another ring to slip through, this one firmly attached to a rubber plug inserted into my anus. Passing this, the rope wound through rings at my wrists before heading for the ceiling pulley and going to my left ankle.

In short, I was capable of limited movement, but at a price: every wiggle, tug, or jerk caused the rope to pull my nipples and rub across my delicate pussy. For a few minutes the position wasn't too bad. But soon it became irritating, and then intolerable, and I was forced to shift my weight, adjusting my knees and legs. After several hours, I was aching and pleading with Domingo to release me, at least for a few minutes. He ignored me at first, but finally threatened to gag me. I was quiet for a time, but then began again. Finally Domingo did gag me, placing a strip of leather around my head and over my mouth. Nothing I said dissuaded him.

I heard the footsteps long before Domingo. He was engrossed in his work. A gunshot could have been fired directly behind him and he wouldn't have turned. I heard the steps but could not see who it was. Someone had climbed the stairs, opened the door, and walked inside. I couldn't imagine who it could have been -- but I knew it wasn't good. But I was helpless. I moaned but Domingo ignored me. For at least an hour the person stood there in the shadows behind Domingo, watching, and there was nothing I could do to warn him.

My body throbbing, I began to wiggle. The rope tugged all over my body. My breasts hurt so bad I couldn't believe they'd ever return to their native shape. Domingo said something, and then I heard her voice.

"So this is your slut, Domingo?"

A terrible chill passed through me. It was Heidi.

She stepped forward. Domingo was astonished to see her. Heidi ignored him and walked over to me. She picked up the leather cat-o'-nine tails Domingo had left on the floor and swung it through the air.

"What are you doing?" cried Domingo.

"I'm going to thrash your slut," said Heidi calmly. "She does need it, doesn't she? Such a naughty slut!"

I moaned, loudly, but did not avoid the slap of the whip. It snapped across my haunches, burning cruelly. I cried out in pain but it sounded like a feeble grunt from beneath the gag. I wiggled, too, and that hurt more than the cat -- the rope tugged at my breasts and pussy and asshole.

Heidi whipped me then, a long, hard, thorough whipping. At first Domingo just watched, entranced, but then he became excited and returned to his painting, his brush whirling almost as fast as Heidi's whip.

Three things made this whipping distinct. One, I was utterly helpless. I couldn't even cry out. Second, Heidi didn't just whip my buttocks and legs -- she whipped me from below, letting the tails lash across the front of my thighs, my sex, my belly, even my squeezed and tortured breasts. I recognized the strokes were mild, but the pain was so unusual it was shocking. I screamed into my gag and writhed in agony, which only increased my pain. Domingo watched my struggles with amusement, a large grin splitting his intense face as he painted.

"You are Heidi, Erin's roommate?" Domingo asked suddenly.

Heidi paused in mid-stroke. "Yes."

"Good. Strip. I want you naked. Whip her while you are naked. I will put you in the painting."

Domingo said this with such a matter-of-factness that I doubt Heidi even stopped to question his command. She stripped. Naked, she approached me, caressing my hair and kissing me on the cheek. I trembled, knowing her kiss to be the beginning of the end.

The whipping resumed in full force, and though it hurt to move, I moved my head so I could keep an eye on Heidi, despite my pain, enjoying the sight of her slim legs and bare snatch, and her naked breasts bobbing as she thrashed me. Domingo hummed loudly, contentedly, and painted.

I don't know how long the painting took. After Heidi arrived I lost all sense of perspective. It could have been an hour, perhaps six. I know I wasn't fully conscious until morning, when I became aware of intense pleasure and pain. The pain was in my ass and I realized it was Domingo thrusting his huge cock into my asshole. The pleasure came from sweet Heidi, kissing my lips and licking my breasts. I was free from the evil rope contraption, lying on Domingo's bed.

With a loud grunt Domingo ejaculated inside me, his shuddering sending me over the edge. I was so sensitive that everything, no matter how slight, struck me as impossibly sensual. I felt Heidi draw away from me, and I rolled away, the silky smoothness of the bedsheets sheer delight. Behind me I could hear Heidi and Domingo making love.

Moaning, I rotated my head. At the foot of the bed, where I lay, was the painting. It was magnificent. Heidi was naked, her bare buttocks stripped with fresh marks of a caning. I didn't know if the marks were real or Domingo's imagination -- I hoped the former. She looked beautiful, her voluptuous body gleaming with sweat and lust. In her right hand dangled the deadly cat-o'-nine tails, and before her was me, naked and trussed up like some child's toy. My body was striped with whip marks, my face engorged with agony and severe pleasure. Again Domingo had exaggerated my breasts, and the detail of the nipples and clamps that squeezed them was amazing.

After staring at the painting for a long time, my hand deep inside myself, I came with a deep sigh. I glanced back and saw my two friends were lost in slumber. They looked peaceful together, as though they'd made love a thousand times before. No one would have guessed from seeing them that they'd only met a few hours ago. I thought they would make a good painting.

More to come next week!

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