Chapter 6
My mouth dropped.
Andrew Cole.
He was Hume?
I couldn't believe it.
It was a good thing I was poised with my cat o'nine tails.
He spoke.
"Yes. I'm anxious to engage in .some S-and-M with Mark, here. He and I have an old score to settle, don't we?"
"Then you two know each other?" Diane asked, lighting another joint, with the firey intensity and enthusiasm of a schoolgirl out on her first night away from home.
"Yes, you might say that," I said.
My hard-on would have faded immediately had it not been for the harness I was wearing, which trapped my tissues in their erectile state.
Diane had no idea what was going on—or maybe she did. I don't know.
All I know is that she was in it for the pleasure of the moment.
She didn't give a shit about the age-old desire for revenge which seemed to spell its angry name out on Hume's face.
Hume.
Where the hell did he get a name like that, anyway?
"Grab him, Diane. Grab his dick."
Diane stepped closer toward me. I was suspicious of what Hume would have her do.
"Stay back, babe," I said to Diane. I menacingly raised my cat o'nine tails over my head.
I realized that did no good.
Shit.
The risk of being flayed with the spiked tips of the cat o'nine tails thrilled Diane even more.
I watched her nipples grow erect at the prospect.
It became a confrontation of latent sexual longings bubbling up through the molten iron of my blood to the surface, where they would explode with the furies of the ages.
My cock tingled with the thought of successfully defending myself against this bitch—this agent of the devil.
"Stay back—I warn you."
"Whip me, lover. Go ahead and make me bleed. I want your cock."
I stared at her intensely, marking my steps.
"I want your dick so bad that I'm willing to pay for its capture."
There was a part of me that wanted to beat her senseless and then destroy the premises.
And yet—there was a part of me that wanted to yield—that wanted to lose this epic confrontation of lurid lust.
Yes, it's true.
There was a part of me that wanted to face the humiliation and degradation of loss.
Loss.
Loss of control.
Loss of dignity.
Loss of ownership of my own phallic rod.
My hot penis.
Diane lunged for my cock.
I gritted my teeth and cracked the whip.
SNAP!
The multi-pronged heads of the cat o'nine tails struck her across the breasts.
Just the tops of the tits, though—meaning that most of the impact hit the leather straps of her erotic body-harness.
I thought I had heard the clink of metal against metal.
I knew that I could see the slashes in the leather of her harness.
But the many heads of this devilish and hellish whip of death also cut her flesh—though just slightly.
She had fresh, shallow slash marks across the juicy slopes of her wonderfully full tits.
I watched the red hot blood seep through these new gash marks that my own power had placed upon her otherwise perfect body.
The sight.
The scent.
It made my cock quiver with lust.
A new expression broke across Diane's face, as she placed her hands upon her breast in a feminine moment of self-realization.
She felt the blood seep slowly through her wounds.
"No—-no one ever slashed me before."
"That's nothing compared to what you'll receive if you try for my cock again, bitch."
I made a point of spitting the word "bitch" between my lips as if it were the most foul concept imaginable by the tortured and somehow yet noble mind of sado-masochistic man.
Diane bared her teeth and hunched her shoulders like a jungle cat, prowling about this iron dungeon as I stepped back and forth, ready—ready for the next onslaught.
Hume just watched.
His hand had cupped his chin.
His dick was bulging beneath his leather jock strap, I held the mother of pearl handle of my cat o'nine tails in my right hand, and the many-headed tips in my left.
I twirled the length of leather that made up the body of the whip before me.
The sight of it must have delighted this woman's libido.
I know that it delighted mine.
She lunged again.
She grabbed my shoulder with one hand, managing to get her fingers curled beneath the strap of my erotic body harness.
I flailed the whip blindly.
I knew there wasn't enough room or leverage to strike a decisive shattering blow—but I knew I could cause her pain anyway.
I scratched her across the undulating muscles of her lithe stomach.
She was still grabbing my shoulder.
"Back off, bitch," I said.
"Fuck you, you hard-on," she spat back.
I flashed and thrashed with my whip of magic death.
All I could so was scratch her to and fro—I couldn't land any really juicy blows.
Yet.
She grabbed my hard-on in her hand.
And then she let go of my shoulder and grasped the strap-buckle of the cock harness in her other hand.
She had me, quite literally, by the balls.
She laughed, drooling a bit.
Her lipstick was smeared and her tits rose and fell with the heavy breath of exertion.
"Drop the whip, little boy," she taunted.
"Never," I replied.
She pulled the strap of the cock-harness tighter.
I felt a hundred thousand dynes of seismic force rocket through the shaft of my golden penis and penetrate the core of my libido.
It was heaven.
It was hell.
It was hate.
It was love.
"Drop it, boy," she said again in that sneering tone of catty disdain that made me want to fuck her—fuck her—FUCK HER!
I dropped the whip on the floor.
And grabbed her.
By the harness.
Near her snatch.
I had a perfect grip on the leather tongues that surrounded the eat-away portion of her outfit.
By jerking upward, I could cause her pussy the most unfathomable agony.
I did.
Just once.
She shrieked.
Like the lovers we were, acting out a ritual dance of seductive torture before our master, we held each other captive before the awesome gaze of Hume.
Hume, dungeon master.
Hume, schemer.
Hume, possessor of women's souls and vengeant scion of Satan.
"Oh, Diane ... " Hume's voice said, shattering the thick and salt-smelling air.
She said nothing.
Her gaze was fixed on my face as her hands were gripped to my cock and balls.
"Diane—we have to punish this man. Deliver him to me, Diane. You know the price for failure to serve the master."
His voice was calm.
Almost eerie.
He stood in the shadows, a long, lean figure cut from the pages of some sadist's nightmare.
Indeed, she knew the price of failure, and she must have been torn between her own desire to succeed and her more hidden desire—the desire to fail and be punished severely for it.
The unleashing of the deep sexual self-hatreds was palpable in the thick atmosphere of this uncanny dungeon.
She grasped my cock.
Hard.
She gnashed her teeth.
She forced me to my knees.
I was a helpless slave beneath the vicious grip of torturous agony that punished my penis.
My penis.
My erect penis.
My manhood—symbol of my manhood.
Phallic forebear of my destiny to rule this fleshy creature whose will should, in an ideal world, be supplicant to mine.
Yet, it was not my penis that day.
It was hers.
All hers.
Hers, and for whomever she chose to deliver it to.
Whose mouth would taste my semen that night?
Whose lips my skin?
Whose flesh my own?
Thoughts raced through my mine, each more hideous than the last.
What would I be forced to do?
I had the knifing, twisting, gut-wrenching feeling that I would somehow finally have to face the burning homosexual lust that was aching to poison my soul from within.
Even as I knelt before Diane, wanting her— lusting for her pussy.
My grip broke from her leather twat-handle.
She threw my body upon the floor.
She placed one foot upon the nape of my neck.
The feeling of her spike heel driving down upon my skin was intense.
I tried to move.
Something prevented me.
Then I felt a pair of hands grabbing mine.
Hume's hands.
He was strong.
Stronger than I was at that point in time.
He was fresh—and I was near exhaustion. Only my longing for sweet gratification of my cock-flesh kept me going.
I felt him cuff my hands individually.
He pulled on something, and Diane got off me, and I was standing on my feet the next thing I knew.
I was handcuffed in irons to a long iron chain.
The chain extended up to the ceiling.
"Well, done, my dear," Hume said to Diane as the two of them embraced and kissed.
My mind teemed with jealousy.
The kind of jealousy that turns to hatred.'
Raw, visceral hate—promoter of violence, rape, and torture.
Diane stepped toward another device mounted on a wall.
She unhooked an iron lock and began to turn a large crank handle.
I remember watching her supple body turn and twist as she cranked the handle.
I felt the chair that bound me get taut.
And then it picked me up off the floor.
I was being raised higher and higher, hanging by my wrists.
Soon I was several feet off the floor.
My hard-on stuck out in front of my.
I tried to kick, to twist, but it was no use.
I was captive.
Diane strode over to me.
Her face was about even with my cock and balls.
She undid the cock harness.
Ah.
Sweet relief.
My cock sprung out to new erection and my balls were once again hot and horny to be free—free in the open air.
Diane gave me a kiss-right on the side of my cock in the nest of pubic hair that surrounded my stiff prick.
Then she just stared.
I saw Hume below me.
He paced back and forth, gathering up the cat o'nine tails from where it had dropped on the floor.
He admired it.
He cracked it in mid-air.
He spoke.
"Before I finish you off, my dear, dear Mister Lester, I thought you might as well like to know my story—the story that brought us all here."
"Fuck off, faggot," I spit.
"My, my. Such harsh language. Why, I'm sure I once felt that way myself ... of course, now I know differently.
"Now I know ... better."
And with that I felt the cat o'nine tails swing through the air and brush my buttocks.
The pain stung.
It went right through me.
"Hume!!" Diane whined. "You didn't even make him bleed with that one?"
"Patience, my dear," Hume replied. "Patience."
I hung there in horny agony as I listened to his life story.
"You see, Mister Lester, I always hated women. My mother was scheming, conniving bitch. She dominated my family as she dominated me.
"Nothing I ever did could please her—and she had emasculated my father and brothers as she had emasculated me.
"At the age of fourteen, I masturbated for the first time. I remember grasping my penis in my hand and feeling it grow stiff and erect.
"My school chums had told me to do it in front of a girlie magazine—or thinking about kissing the prettiest girl in class.
"But I found that thinking about boys—thinking about their own erect cocks turned me on more.
"I remember shutting my eyes and rubbing hard strokes down my prick.
"When my mother entered my bedroom without knocking and caught me in the act.
"I was disgraced. I couldn't even go out with a girl after that.
"For every time a young lady would show an interest in me, the fear of sexual contact swelled up inside my like a hand grenade about to explode.
"And let me tell you, something, Mister Lester—there was plenty of women who were turned on by me. Then as now. Why your own sweet Diane here—"
"Shut up, faggot," I blurted.
"Insolent breeder!" Hume cried and slashed my buttocks with the cat o'nine tails.
This time I could feel myself start to bleed.
"How's that?" Hume said to Diane.
"Better. But that'll heal too soon."
"Patience, darling," he said, and turned his attention back to me.
"If a girl would kiss me or make any kind of sexual advance to me, why, I would get nauseous and run.
"I hated myself. Puberty was a time of deep emotional pain for me."
I wanted to make a snotty remark. Like, isn't puberty a bitch for everybody?
But I kept my mouth shut. I wanted to hear the rest of the story.
Hearing the juicy details of another man's deep sexual traumas had a strange fascination for me.
Maybe that's why I went into private investigating work in the first place. Hell, who knows.
But the curiosity was overwhelming—^and having it satisfied by this man's rantings really turned me on.
Yes, it turned me on.
It kept my prick stiff.
Rigid.
"Women began to nauseate me. The more they liked me, the more Iran from their incessant girlish prattle.
"I remember one day, though I could hide no longer. Her name was Rebecca. She was a sweet girl, actually. I think she even ... "
He paused.
I waited for him to say it.
" ... loved me."
"It became to much. One day I said to her, so, you want me? Here! There I unzipped my pants and showed a woman my thick aching cock for the first time since that humiliation my mother had scarred me with."
He unzipped his leather jockstrap, and I saw his bright red erection.
He threw Diane onto the iron bed.
I heard the metal spikes of her outfit clang against the metal of the iron bed.
Her ass stuck way up in the air.
"I raped her, do you here me! Raped her raw!"
He jammed his hard cock inside Diane's pussy from behind.
I heard her moan.
I watched the whole sordid thing.
I was driven with intense hatred and jealousy, but, God, it felt great—it made my cock so hard and so hot.
He jammed her again and again.
"I raped her over and over and over and I swear to God I got my revenge on that simpering bitch who dared to want to have sex with me!"
As he said the word "rape," he thrust.
Then he pulled out and stood underneath me again, leaving Diane to drip her pussy juice on the iron bed.
His cock was still stiff and wet.
"I ruined that girl's life there in the stinking small town where I grew up.
"But I'll tell you something, Mister Mark Lester—I made her cum. Just as I made your precious Diane here cum."
"Liar!" I screamed.
"Oh, no, Mark," Diane said as she approached me.
She curled her forefinger against her thumb and held her hand underneath my jutting penis.
"And he was better than you!"
She flicked her finger right into my left ball.
The pain shot through me like a laser beam.
Then waves of agony came, radiating out from my poor testicle, like ripples in a pond of water.
A droplet of love juice fell from the slit of my prick head to the floor.
"From there, I ran away from home to the big city.
"I found a home in the filthy scum of the sex business. I became known as a good blowjob—and for years I would suck any cock that came along. Two dollars a trick, then five, then ten. Then a hundred.
"The degradation of being called a fag—a homo—I loved it. It was the perfect punishment for the sin of rape—and for the horrible crime of masturbating.
"I hated anything sexual and was out to have my revenge. Anyway I could do it. Prostitution. Rape. Self-degradation with my own libido.
"Here in New York City I found that there was a sizeable trade in the S-and-M business, and soon I was linked up with organized crime.
"I did everything imaginable. Now, as a result, I'm almost endured completely to the ravages of sex."
I was completely enthralled, and excited to know that I was now a part of this whole sordid history of unimaginable sex.
"Witness as Diane sucks my cock."
Diane got down in front of him and placed his thick tube of meat inside her mouth.
"Mmmmnnn," she moaned with incredible passion and pleasure.
It was the same moan that she had moaned when she had gone down on me.
Hume looked at me while Diane licked and sucked his stiff prick.
"You see? Nothing. I can talk to you as plain as day. That will be all, Diane."
"But, if I watch Diane suck your balls, that's another story."
Diane tucked her fingers under my balls.
She poked them into her mouth.
I knew that feeling well. I loved feeling the sloshing tongue and saliva of her oral interior on my balls.
"Hurt him, Diane."
She bit.
Oh, God.
Hume pulled her away from me, but she held on with her teeth and lips, until he yanked her back so hard that she fell to the floor.
My balls.
Jesus.
Hume continued with his monologue.
"Once I was in with the right crowd—the organized crime rackets—life got nice and easy. There was all the money, the drugs, and the cock I wanted. I would hob nob with the elite in the sex business. It was a good life for a piece of stinking homo scum like me.
"And then ... you came along."
Hume looked up at me with a strange expression—a combination of hate and passion, fury and sexual attraction.
I wasn't sure what it meant.
"From the minute I saw you in court, I was attracted to you.
"I started to fantasize about making hot love to the man—this obscure private investigator—that I saw in the courtroom through the trial of my boss and his henchmen.
"I wanted your cock, Mark."
He pushed the tip of his index finger into the end of my penis as I hug suspended before him.
He scooped of a drop of pre-cum and licked his finger clean.
"The fact that you were testifying against us—the fact that you were my enemy—the fact that you were the man who was out to destroy my life—it all made it more intense.
"What sweet punishment it would be to degrade my self with my erect flesh before the man who was out to ruin my life.
"The more I fantasized about you—the more I wanted you. The more I hated you at the same time."
He turned away and looked at Diane.
His voice started to waver, as if he were choked up with emotion.
Diane stroked his cock as he spoke.
"I know it's all perverted—senseless. But God help me it's all I live for."
With Diane holding his penis, he turned his face toward me.
"I am going to give you, and Diane, and myself, the most intense night of sexual fulfillment any three people had."
His voice dropped.
"And then, Mister Mark Lester ... "
My cock was so hard it hurt.
" ... I am going to kill you."