Chapter 2
There was something special, something very special about that brass four-poster bed.
It was more than the mere look of it. Each of the brass posts was topped with a delicately sculpted crown. The posts at the four corners were thicker than the other brass bars which interlocked to form the heavy metal latticework that was the bed frame.
There was a horizontal bar across the top of the headboard which was, perhaps, three feet above the level of the bed, giving it a very impressive appearance indeed. And then there were a series of narrower brass bars that formed the back of the headboard, all of them running vertically. The foot of the bed was similar to the headboard, except lower.
But, to say that there was something special about the brass four-poster is not to comment on its workmanship or its craft. It was something that Douglas and Pamela might have thought privately, each in the depths of their secret thoughts, but was something they would certainly have denied to each other, something they never could have admitted.
Was it possible that an object could influence people?
Puritans throughout the ages have urged the banning of pornography for fear that people's actions would be influenced by reading such things. However, perhaps they would have been better advised to ban brass four-poster beds, or at least this particular one.
That incident which occurred between the two young marrieds was not quickly forgotten. It left a strain on their relationship. For a week, the woman refused to permit her husband into her room. She merely locked the door and did not respond when he knocked.
She was hungry for sex, a fact that she didn't dare to admit. But, she also didn't dare to satisfy her hunger with her husband.
Finally, he stopped her just as she was about to enter her room and demanded, as he worded it, his "conjugal rights as her husband and provider." Put in such a pragmatic way, the woman felt helpless to protest. It was with fear and a touch of excitement that he escorted her into the bedroom. What if he did the same thing again, she wondered.
Actually, she knew that if her husband did the same thing again she would certainly
But, they went through their usual sexual routine. She changed into her nightgown, out of view of her husband, and he went to his room to change into his pajamas and robe. She was under the blankets when he returned. He turned off the light, climbed under the blankets and they fucked.
It was quite uninspiring and for the rest of their marriage it remained that way.
Throughout the rest of their marriage, the woman never again tasted sperm. She never again was required to give her husband a blowjob. That first situation had been all.
However, once in a while, situations would erupt between them!
The next one occurred a few months later. They were settled into the house and they went to a party which was given by some neighbors. It was a dinner party in the evening and there were about ten couples altogether. It was quite elegant.
However, the punch was very strong and a number of people, including Pamela, became quite giddy and merry.
There was a particular man, an older man who held a local political office, who was paying a great deal of attention to Pamela. He was joking a good deal with her. There were some people who whispered behind their hands about the camaraderie that was being displayed between one man's wife and another woman's husband. However, most of the people at the party were sufficiently mature to recognize that these were just two stuffy people blowing off steam.
However, after dinner, when the men retired to one room for brandy and cigars and the women retired to another room for quiet talk, Douglas was annoyed to hear some of the men talking about his wife. He was beginning to boil over the fact that his wife had made a terrible display of herself. She, meanwhile, was feeling relaxed and wasn't at all concerned about her actions. She had no idea that her husband was so angry.
He knew that it was too early to leave and that he couldn't make a scene at the party and make matters worse than they were. So, he was containing his temper and permitting it to grow well out of proportion. Then the women joined the men in the sitting room.
It was the waning hours of the party. Douglas was distracted. One of the older women was asking him about his work at the bank, a terribly boring subject.
He didn't notice that his wife had joined the older politician on the other side of the room and that this politician had given Pamela one of his cigars and had lit it. She took one puff and started to cough. There was general laughter and merriment around her. .
Then she took another puff. But, before she could comment on her accomplishment of puffing on a cigar without coughing, her husband had rushed across the room and grabbed her by the arm. There was a stunned silence in the whole room.
"I wish to apologize for my wife's vulgar actions here tonight and can only beg your pardon."
That was all that was said. Then he pulled her right out of the room and right out of the house without another word to their hosts or anyone else.
Pamela started to weep even before they had reached their car. "Douglas, it was all in fun. I didn't do anything that was too. . . " She began in a very weak voice.
"Silence, woman. If you wish to shame yourself in front of the entire town you may do so any day of the week, however as long as you are my wife you shall not bring shame on my name. Do you understand what I'm saying to you, Pamela?"
Her eyes went wide and she started to weep out loud in spite of his protests that she be silent.
It was barely three minutes before he pulled the car into their own driveway.
"Pull yourself together, woman. I want to see you in your bedroom ready to be punished."
"Punished, Douglas?" Once again there was the combination in her. She felt the sexual thrill coursing through her and she felt the fear of her husband that she knew so well.
His words had sounded like a threat of divorce to the woman, and this was an age when such things were not done lightly. But, then again, this was an age when women did not smoke cigars.
She went up to her bedroom and changed into her nightgown. As she stood in her dressing room she looked in the mirror and reached one finger down to press it against her pussy lips. She could feel the heat that was deep inside her body, but she tried to hold it back.
What if her husband saw how sexually excited she was? Would he add to her punishment? Would that, in point of fact, add to her sexual excitement? She thought of touching herself and bringing herself to orgasm before seeing her husband, but she didn't dare.
She heard the loud banging on her bedroom door and she proceeded, like a woman sentenced by a judge, to let her husband into the room. He strode in wearing nothing but his dressing gown. She could tell that he had nothing on beneath it and she was shocked.
"Remove that right this instant," the man snapped harshly.
She slid her nightgown up her body and revealed her nakedness to her husband. He stood in front of her as if he were assessing that nakedness and then she felt a further tingling in her pussy.
"I want you face down on this bed. Put your hands up over your head."
The girl did as she was told. Her husband positioned her so that her knees were drawn up under her body and her arms were stretched up over her head. He quickly took a tie from the pocket of his dressing gown and he used it to tie both of her wrists to the headboard.
Once her wrists were tied in that way she felt particularly helpless. She looked over her shoulder and watched as her husband tossed his dressing gown off. His naked body was revealed in all its glory. His cock was waving, partially hard, in front of him.
Then, just as he was about to let his dressing gown fall to the floor, he pulled something from the belt loop at the side. He had stuck his riding crop into the belt loop.
When the bound woman saw her husband's riding crop and realized how vulnerable her position was in relationship to the man and the weapon, she tensed up and pulled on her wrists. But, she knew that it was futile to react in that way. She was not going to get free.
"I'll teach you what you'll get for shaming me in front of the town."
"N-no-o-o-o!" she cried out. "I didn't shame you in front of. . . "
Before she could finish the sentence she heard the whistling sound as the riding crop sliced through the air. Then she felt it slamming hard against the cheeks of her upturned ass.
Her entire body tensed up but there was nothing she could do. There was no way she could cover her white, defenseless flesh. As much as she squirmed in her bonds, she knew that she was tied to the bed and she was going to stay that way as long as her husband willed her to.
There was now a bright red mark across the cheeks of her ass. It glistened in the light of the room.
She looked over her shoulder and she watched the riding crop slicing through the air a second time. "You will never shame me again!" her husband screamed as he forcefully brought the leather strap down against the fleshy cheeks of her buttocks.
She sobbed loudly as she felt that second lash of the riding crop against her delicate flesh. It was a stinging sensation that coursed up through her body. She especially felt it right in the walls of her pussy which were quivering in response o the painful blows.
Pamela couldn't understand the feelings. She couldn't understand why she was sexually aroused due to the pain of the whipping she was receiving. It was a fact. That was all.
She spread herself out on the bed, pressing her body down against the bed. But then her husband grabbed her hips and raised them up, pulled them toward his whipping strokes.
Then a series of slashing blows landed on the cheeks of her ass. The man kept on slamming the riding crop in one direction and then in the other direction. He was slicing painfully at the cheeks of the girl's ass and there was nothing she could do but to hide her head in the pillow and whimper.
And then the slicing blows of the riding crop stopped. She was frozen in that position for a long minute. She was holding her breath. Then, slowly, she looked over her shoulder.
Her neck felt stiff. It was rigid due to the tension that had filled her body during the whipping.
Now, as she turned to look at her husband, the first thing she was aware of was his throbbing erection, looking bigger and more menacing than ever before. That amazed her. She realized that she wasn't the only one who was erotically stimulated by the whipping.
Of course she couldn't admit that to him and he couldn't admit that to her. But they were both feeling the same thing at the same time. If she was getting sexually aroused by being whipped, then he was getting just as aroused from whipping her.
She was turned on by the masochistic pain and he was turned on by the sadistic act of inflicting pain.
Now that he had stopped whipping her, he tossed the riding crop to the side and ran his fingers tenderly over the cheeks of her bruised ass. She was in such pain that even the soft movement of his fingers against the flesh was more than she could stand.
And yet, even as she squirmed and writhed in her bonds she knew that there was more to come.
He got into position behind her and he pulled her hips up into the air, spreading her legs.
She then felt the head of her husband's cock pressing right up against the lips of her pussy. But it was pushing at the cunt lips in an upside down position, in the opposite position from the one she was used to. Now it was the sensitive flesh on the underside of the prick that rubbed right along the woman's clitoris. She felt the pulling.
As her clitoris got more and more excited, growing larger and fuller and firmer, the man could feel the massaging that was rubbing right up against the flesh on the underside of his dick. It was sexually stimulating him as he pushed forward and he knew that it would feel even better when he pulled back.
He pushed all the way into her hot hole and then he remained there for a long moment.
It was tighter than he had ever remembered it being. He knew that it was because of the tension that was in his wife's body due to the punishment he had just handed out.
For all the delights that there were in total relaxation, there was certainly something to be said for tension. In this instant it was tension that was making the cunt so juicy and warm, wrapped tightly around the throbbing penis.
He pulled back and he could feel the sliding, the pulling, the rubbing against his glans. She could feel the tugging of her cunt flesh.
And then he started to move in and out of her tender cunt. He seemed to be enjoying the tension even as the woman tried to relax so that it wouldn't be so difficult for her to get fucked. If he didn't enjoy the tension, then why would he have pulled on her painful ass cheeks each time he felt her beginning to relax. He even slapped her bottom.
He started to fuck her slowly, pulling the full length of the dick all the way out of her pussy and then slamming it all the way into her. He seemed to be savoring each movement.
And she could feel the massaging of the flared head of the cock. She could feel the juice that was oozing out of the depths of her pussy and she could feel the way that the juice was being rubbed back into the walls of her pussy by the moving cock head.
He knew that she was excited and so he became even harsher in his fucking. But the harder slams of his cock only added to the excitement of the pussy flesh. She even found herself pushing her butt backwards and pressing herself hard against his body.
And then he pushed forward. She pushed backwards. He felt his cock expanding and she felt her pussy walls collapsing around the invading shaft of the prong.
Then he was shooting into her. She could feel the hot wetness that splashed and slapped against the depths of her cunt. He could feel the juices that were mingling and oozing around his stiff boner. His dick kept on throbbing and her cunt walls kept on pulsating and undulating around his hot cock. The two of them were locked together like that.
And the orgasmic pleasure that they both felt was very great indeed.
It kept continuing. Each time his dick would throb it would cause a further reaction in the walls of her cunt. Each time the walls of her pussy would react and pull tight it would suck a little more juice out of the length of his cock.
The two sex organs almost seemed to be doing combat with each other when suddenly the man pulled his prick out of his wife's hole with one thrusting move. His cock was free of the confining tightness of her pussy. There was a little more juice that splashed out of the throbbing cock, even as he grabbed it with his hand to try to stop the pulsating.
That additional juice splashed against the battered ass cheeks that he had so recently whipped.
The heat against her bruised flesh was enough to make Pamela forget the pleasures of her orgasm. She was inhaling sharply through her clenched teeth.
As she looked over her shoulder she was aware of the fact that her husband was putting his robe back on and preparing to leave. "D-douglas, will you untie. . . ? "
"Tomorrow morning," he snapped as he left the room and slammed the door.
The woman was left there, truly at her husband's will. She was bound to the brass four-poster, helpless as she felt the chill in her fingers due to the tight ties around her wrists. She sobbed for a while and tried to cry herself to sleep.
Eventually the alcohol she had at the dinner party proved to be enough so that she was able to drift off into a sound sleep. That, at least was a comfort to her.
And that proved to be the comfort in Pamela's life. She lived in a polite society, a society which did not admit that there were alcoholics in their ranks, that did not admit that one of their number could have a disease and could need help.
So, she went along in life without any help. She complained of headaches and whenever she complained of a headache she would go upstairs and lock herself into her room and take out a bottle of the brandy that she kept for such occasions.
She was much too polite to drink real drinks. She would have been shocked at the thought of a woman in her social group having a cocktail. But, brandy was different. Brandy, as far as she was concerned, was something that helped calm her headaches.
Of course it helped calm her headaches. She would eventually pass out in a drunken stupor.
There were further incidents in that very special bed with her husband. Most of the sex they shared was merely for the function of getting his rocks off. Usually it was the same humdrum thing. The lights would be out and he would stick it in until he shot.
But, there were other incidents that were similar to the one on the night of the dinner party. In fact, those incidents were very similar to that first one. Usually it would be something that would happen while Pamela was drinking and there were other people there.
Sometimes, deep in her heart, she knew that she was purposely creating an unpleasant situation, knowing that her husband would have to punish her.
Of course, these things did not always happen with great frequency. There was a time of more than a year when there was no bondage and no punishment at all in the household.
Pamela was pregnant with her first child and then she was nursing the baby. She was treated with kid gloves because the only concern that Douglas had then was for his 'heir' and for the future of his family name. Pamela felt as if she were merely a breeder.
Things got back to normal though once the baby was starting to grow, once there was a nurse in to look after the baby. Then there was a second pregnancy which ended with a miscarriage. That changed the whole tone of the house for a long time thereafter.
The first baby was placed on a pedestal. Pamela managed to keep her husband out of her bedroom for more than a year after she lost the baby at birth.
In other words, it was a marriage that progressed through the years. Both of them grew, both of them went through changes. Whether the two of them matured is another question. Neither of them ever came to terms with the sexuality that had haunted them.
Even when they went for two years without having an episode of bondage and discipline, something would happen. There would be some incident provoking it and soon enough the woman would be in bondage once again and she would feel her husband's lash on the flesh that was healed and white once more. But even when they were older and they shared the same thrills again, neither of them was ever able to admit the truth of the matter.
Neither of them could face each other, neither of them could face a mirror, and say the words, "I enjoy bondage and discipline." Perhaps, more than once, each of them blamed the bed. If it weren't for the bed, none of this would have been inspired to happen.
And, of course, this remained the most secret and the most hidden part of their relationship. This was the side of their marriage that no one ever saw. It was the dark side that they even hid from themselves. And yet, it was the side of their sexualities that was always in their dreams, that was always haunting them and filling them with longings.
In that way they were perfectly matched. In the fact that they never fully enjoyed the bondage and discipline because it was mixed with so much guilt, they were also matched.
And so their marriage lasted, the house grew older, the brass four-poster was regularly polished and after each cleaning the mistress of the house, Pamela, no longer a girl, would remark, "Look at that. It's as glistening as it was the day it was new."