Chapter 7

Whipped Wife

Jealousy, suspicion, disappointment-all these emotions swept Mia into a storm of resentment. Why did Ryan have to do this to her! Why did he spoil something so wonderful! As though to emphasize her question she stretched her bare, free arms as high as they would go and then to either side, she twirled around in a belly dancers pose upon her bare, but unchained feet. Mia Argent was free! She had been beautifully and gloriously free for an hour. And now this! It was too, too cruel.

Glory had been vouchsafed her before dinner. Without warning Gentry had unlocked the handcuffs from her wrists and the leg irons from her ankles. He had patted her bottom and kissed her lips. His voice was mocking as he said, "There you are, that's what you wanted, now enjoy it. We'll have a dinner together with you as a free girl. You can play hostess."

Mia had forgotten how many weeks it was since she had enjoyed such freedom. Her first act was to throw her arms around her amused master and hug and hug and hug in a way she had often longed to do but had been foiled. She also kissed and kissed and kissed and then, as though to totally emphasis her gratitude, she melted at his feet and grasped his leg in the pose to total adoration. She knew it would please him, it pleased her too. Having expressed this gratitude, she then performed the gymnastics she had promised. Her arms and legs flashed in every direction she could contrive, giving them every chance to stretch and reach the fulfillment of her young strength. It was glorious, it was wonderful, she adored Ryan without reservations.

Breathlessly she said, "Remember, I promised, whenever you say the word ..."

She saw the adoration in his eyes and knew she had struck the proper cord. He was a man and Melody was somewhere in the house. It behooved her to move and speak with caution. She sat down to dinner with her master in a state of exaltation. She repeatedly reached for the salt and pepper just to prove she could do so. Ryan laughed at her happiness, it was infectious.

They had brandy in the lounge. Mia once more felt delightfully civilized as she went to and from the bar bearing her master's choice. That she knelt at her master's feet to serve, or to herself sip the potent spirits in no way effected her freedom. She used both arms and legs continually and often unnecessarily in an exuberance of liberty. In a pleasant state of euphoria, Gentry gave and Mia received his order.

"Sweetheart, tonight is going to be special for you and me in bed, real special. I want you prisoner but it will be with the slenderest of bonds. Run upstairs now, you'll find a chain and a shackle attached to the foot of the bed. Snap the shackle on whichever of your ankles you prefer. Then sit and wait for me."

The slavegirl had not the faintest thought of refusal. Once more the hug and the tender kiss, the hungry breasts against a man's shirt, not daring to prolong the ecstasy beyond prudence. It was not until she sped into their bedroom that the hatchet fell upon her hope. Half way to the bed she stood and stared aghast.

"Well, don't just stand there staring, ninny. I don't know how you got loose but you can untie me and we can both run for it." Melody's voice rose in a crescendo of excitement.

Mia did nothing. She stood and stared. All she saw was betrayal of a dream. What was Melody doing here, stark naked, her arms raised and her wrist bound to the two post at the foot of the bed she and Ryan shared! Worst of all Melody was facing the bed itself and would have a bird's eye view of whatever took place upon it. But she was well bound and very helpless.

"Mia, wake up, what's the matter with you! I'm not a ghost, I'm Melody Gentry, or have you forgotten? I don't know what's happening but let's make the most of it."

It was a chaotic congestion of emotions. Mia shook her head in a daze of indecision. This sudden intrusion of her rival into euphoria left her chagrined enough to follow Melody's demand. But she knew Ryan would be sitting on the bottom step awaiting whatever response she made or did not make. What a wonderful chance it would be to get rid of Melody once and for all. But Ryan would intercept heron the stairway and bring her back. Mia knew her freedom was only of her limbs, it was not true liberty. Her gaze fell to the chain and shackle resting on the coverlet. Melody saw it too.

"Don't tell me, Mia, you're going to be dumb enough to put that thing on your own ankle!" she demanded in amazement. "He told me that's what you had to do, but I didn't believe it possible?"

It was not much use embracing a girl from the rear. Mia knelt upon the bed and drew the bound wife as close to herself as free arms could contrive, their breasts touched and frictioned pleasantly. But her intent was not erotic arousal. She kissed the fevered and angry lips and whispered, "I'm sorry Melody, I truly am but I can't let you loose. I belong to Ryan, I belong to him in ways you may not understand. I won't go counter to his wishes. For an hour or so he's trusting me and I won't let him down. Please forgive."

Between the two naked girls there was no mystery, nothing hidden, each understood the other and this situation their master had contrived. As though fearful she might change her own mind, Mia determinedly picked up the shackle and fixed it around her right ankle. She pushed hard and the satisfying click told both girls that she was prisoner. She stood back and kicked the trail of links testingly and laughed. There was no use being gloomy or putting on a fit of sulks. Mia began to glimpse some possibilities in what Ryan had contrived. If anything could shame or humiliate Melody, it must surely be the enforced stand in bound helplessness to watch the antics of her former husband and her successor in the making of their love. Had Melody been less of a nuisance it might have been called cruel, but it held elements of humor not to be ignored.

The shackle was heavy as the chain was long. Ryan must have been shopping. Mia made a limited tour of their bedroom, Melody's eyes following this small freedom hungrily. She did not fail to remind, "There's still time to untie me, Mia. If you don't want to escape, that's your affair. But I want to escape and you must be the meanest girl ever if you won't untie me. You could, real easy."

"It wouldn't do any good, Melody, Ryan would be waiting for you downstairs. You might get into something much worse than watching what he's going to do to me on the bed. Don't let's pretend to be shocked, we're both adults."

No matter how she tried, Mia found it impossible to counter Melody's bitter hostility. It was easy enough to understand, she was being subjected to a bitter humiliation. Mia was thankful when Ryan came, he took her in his arms in a manner oblivious to the woman bound to the bed posts, he laid her upon the bed, arranging the heavy metal of her chain, then mounted her with tenderness. When she felt herself pierced Mia forgot all else.

Ryan gave his slavegirl a day and night of unexpected total freedom before inquiring, "Well, sweetheart, ready to be a chained prisoner again?"

Mia was more than ready. She felt that gratitude quite out of proportion to the benefit she had received but she could not help this, the gratitude was there and sufficiently glowing to enable her to offer her hands and watch as handcuffs bit her wrists in a now familiar constraint, the leg irons were old friends. The new chain from the center of the span between her legs and locked to the link between her wrists might drive her crazy with frustration but was, at least, a pleasant change from having her hands and arms behind her back. She said a demure thank you and went with her master to the studio for their day's work. She felt her inability to raise her bound hands above the level of her pubic bush well justified by Ryan's obvious inspiration. He worked like a man possessed. Perhaps he was possessed by a dream of beauty most men never saw.

On the following day Mrs. Melody Gentry was whipped.

"Been thinking about what you said, sweetheart," Ryan Gentry informed as he plied his brush, "I mean, that idea about whipping little Melody's dothingie and tits. I think you've got something."

Mia realized there was something more on Ryan's mind, she waited patiently. "Not a bit sure it would do much good if it comes from me," Ryan mused thoughtfully. "It would bothered her a lot more if she got it from a girl."

"I refuse. I couldn't possibly. Please, Ryan ..."

"You can and you will, darling. Don't be silly. After you've given her a couple you'll enjoy the rest, take my word for it."

"I couldn't possibly be that cruel."

"Well, it was your idea, sweetheart, don't be such a little hypocrite."

Mia knew herself trapped. But still assured her master, "I'll make a mess of it. I'll try it if you want. I know Melody's a pain in the ass and this might be a way to get rid of her, but I've never whipped anyone, not ever. And it's a bit late to start."

"If I use the whip, it will be on you, Mia. Don't make me do that."

She was trapped indeed, but her acceptance was ungracious. "Well, all right, I'll do it if I have to. But I wish you wouldn't make me."

They left it at that. Both realized Mia was sailing into an uncharted sea, an ocean in wish there were discoveries she did not wish to make. Gentry put away his paints and brushes in sudden determination. His mouth slanting in amusement, he approached the small platform on which his naked model stood, he unlocked first her hands and then her feet. Mia stepped down a totally free young woman. She made no further protests but walked by her master's side to where he led.

Melody Gentry was in the basement, the basement with the familiar pole which had once played anchorage to a couple of indignant twins. Melody's hands were bound, one on each side at the level of her breasts. But this was not all. Each of her ankles had been roped and each foot drawn out to the side sufficiently to cause her to strain away from the post. And to expose her crotch in its totality. The twins cheeks of her bottom were also placed in view. Mia wondered if she must whip them too. Melody's breasts, swelling beneath each bared armpit in her stress, might not offer a frontal view but where nonetheless available to bare whatever inflection Gentry chose. Mia devoted wished she was somewhere else. This was not her cup of tea.

"I think you're both horrid," Melody vowed unequivocally. In her stained posture she glanced from side to side at the man and woman who would give her pain. In faint hope she added, "Where are you going to whip me?"

"On your bits and pieces, Melody dear," Ryan assured brightly. "It was Mia's idea, she thought you'd enjoy it."

"Ryan, you're a bastard, I bet you put her up to it. Look, I've had enough of being whipped. You can untie me and send me home. I'll never bother you again."

"I seem to have heard that before, Melody, my dear. Let's see if a change in parts will help you stay away."

"You're tearing me apart tying me like this, the way my legs are dragged off in each direction is something wicked. Please loosen the ropes, I can't possibly stand this."

Nothing was loosened, nothing changed. The bound and stretched ex-wife looked around in desperation before offering an ineffectual absurdity, "If you do this to me I'll never speak to either one of you again!"

"Good, we had something like that in mind," Gentry assured her warmly. With the whip he held he made an experimental snap up between the wide-spread legs that elicited an angry yelp of protest. "That's good, my pet, you actually felt it, didn't you? Here Mia, your turn."

Mia took the offered instrument, remembering how she had once longed to use such an object upon the bottoms of her twin sisters. The urge was gone, captivity had killed it. She looked at Melody's exposed and helpless delights awaiting but knew this would not be the same. However Melody was a rival in woman's oldest war, she was, moreover, intensely irritating. In response to Ryan's urgent suggestion of "getting along with it," she measured distance up between the wide spread thighs. Melody's previous stoicism under the whip was slightly impaired. Her eyes widened in shock as the single thong cut into a girlish crevasse. She squealed but the protest was pure Melody, "You shouldn't do that, you shouldn't whip me in there. That's quite enough. Please whip my back or my bottom instead."

"We know about your back and your bottom, Melody," Gentry assured her. "They both like it so what's the use! We thought we would try a few fresh places. I'm sure you'll keep us posted."

"You son of a bitch!" The wifely admonition was further added to with, "Stop doing this to me or I'll call the police."

"May we offer you the phone? I'll hold the receiver for you and do the dialing."

"You bastard. Make Mia stop. Make her whip me in the proper places."

Mia Argent was in the grip of strange new sensations. Much as she would have loved to whip the tight round bottoms of her sisters, she realized it would have been child's play compared with the privilege now before her, all of Melody was hers. And the things Melody had to say were endlessly diverting. She stuck hard again between the soft, pink thighs.

But by now Melody had gathered her forces. None could know the extent of her reservoir of fortitude or the emotions that supported it. True, as each cut of the thong explored her most female places she moaned and made brief but sincere protests, but most of her responses consisted of no more than a grunt, a gasp and the continuous undulations of her nakedness. Rebellion against cords on wrists and ankles was continuous also, a mute reprimand for what she saw as cruelty, or perhaps enjoyment ...! Melody might be an idiot in everyday life but while beneath the whip became a truly superb example of female fortitude.

Mia struck with vigor. Ryan had been correct, after the first two her inhibitions had fallen away and the hunk of thong on female flesh had become something much to be desired. She resolved to persuade Ryan to allow her to whip the twins for their treatment of her in tethering her to the tree so long ago. It seemed a long, long time but had been the source of all her troubles. She stepped to one side, measuring her stroke, then brought the leather sharply up to bite Melody's right breast. She was rewarded by Melody's sudden squeal of alarm and the protest, "You mustn't whip me there! You absolutely must not! Ryan, stop her before she goes too far, I don't want my breasts whipped."

Pay dirt had been reached. Mia salved her conscious by knowing that she was not applying the thong anywhere as hard as she might have. She was whipping female parts and doing so with a female hesitation. She could not rid herself of the feeling that it was she who was bound as Melody was bound and it was her breasts and pussy that were receiving the bite of leather. It might be silly, but there it was! For all Mia knew she might be the next on Ryan's list. She was positive that bound and whipped thus she would provide responses that would give him an outrageous erection. She went to Melody's other flank and struck another upward cut.

In her absorption with the task, Mia lost count of strokes, after an energetic fifteen minutes Ryan's voice gently warned, "That's thirty strokes, my pet, think it's enough?"

"Of course it's enough!" Melody said indignantly. "I think you're both behaving outrageously. You're a couple of brutes. Ryan, take the whip away from this creature, she's killing me."

"You would prefer I use it?" Ryan's voice was suave.

"Of course, not! Stop whipping me all together. My tits and cunt have had ail they can take."

Mia stopped. She was truly somewhat ashamed, yet there had been a warm conviction of doing the right thing. Melody needed to be dealt with in whatever way was practical. Mia knelt and inspected the scarlet breasts and striated crotch. There were no weals, she had used the whip almost with kindness. She suggested, "I think she can use more, Ryan. Please let me give her five more on each tit. And five more on what she calls her twat."

"Don't you dare! I absolutely forbid. Mia, have some sense. And you, Ryan, put a stop to this."

"It's only fifteen more, Melody," Ryan's voice was cheerfully reassuring. "Five on each of your tender spots. You're in great shape, you'll take then like they were nothing."

Mia delivered number one of the fresh inflections. She could sense with feminine intuition her subject's responses; Melody's main objections were just meaningless sounds. The bound girl was contorting exquisitely and uttering the most satisfying sounds interspersed with sentences of coherence. "I'll never forgive you." and "You shouldn't make Mia do this to me, Ryan, you should do it yourself. What I mean is, you shouldn't do it at all."

Mia whipped slowly but steadily. She was in the grip of something beyond control, something she had heard of but never truly believed. She was enjoying whipping Melody Gentry, it was that simple. There was nothing of vindictiveness in her pleasure, it was a purely sensual gratification. The splat, splat, splat of thong on flesh, especially such intimate and gorgeous flesh, fed the fire within her loins and generated fresh purpose with which to continue her inflections. Dimly she recalled having read how women were far more cruel to women than men. She could now understand. In an abandonment to joy she swung her arms and brought the wet leather thong squarely up into the helpless feminine loins to make its tip splat resoundingly upon a female belly. Melody screamed. The whipping stopped.

"Very well," said Melody in total defeat. "I'll go home and I won't come back."

They left her there to contemplate her fate. Gentry took his slavegirl by the arm and led her back to the lounge. "A brandy apiece, my love," he suggested. "Gosh, that was quite something. I am still hearing those impacts. Mia, my darling, I'm proud of you. I bet it wasn't easy at the start, but you came through with flying colors. I bet Melody means what she says about going home."

Ryan had forgotten she was free. Mia glowed in happiness, going back and forth to the bar at his demand and kneeling at his feet to serve and to sip. Mia Argent knew herself the most fortunate of girls. If she had thoughts or memories of the girl she had whipped in the basement, the girl still there in stressful straining at her bonds, she said no word of it. Melody was Ryan's problem, but she prayed most earnestly that he would send his former wife away. It was early for bed. But, seemingly oblivious to the freedom of her limbs, Ryan picked Mia up and took her to their bed. Again and again in the erotism of their couplings she lived again the thrashings of her rival, the glorious splat of thong on female flesh. When, sometime in the night, Ryan got up to free the punished girl Mia paid small heed, but half asleep and happily listening she heard the starting of a car and the crunch of its wheels receding into distance. When Ryan returned to her she knew she had won a victory.

Ryan and his slavegirl slept heavily but it was Mia who awoke first of all to a realization of something different, something strangely wrong. A little while for her to drift into the awareness that this feeling was simply the freedom of her hands and feet. They were totally free and the man beside her deep in sleep. She tensed awake to sudden realization that she could slip out of bed and naked or not, make her way back to Dovecove and resume her life. She had no belief she could free the twins, Ryan would have them safely chained but their release would be open to negotiation. With her free Ryan would have no power to bargain.

That was one side of the coin but on the other was her undoubtable love for the man who had held her captive, the man who she had inspired to works of greatness, the man with whom she had an extraordinary rapport, even when he kept her chained. She loved Ryan Gentry unreservedly. So why avail herself of this opportunity to escape. She thought about it and repeated why, why, why!

It was simple, it was easy. She wanted her freedom as she had always wanted it, to leave her a whole person, a girl not subject to bondage, a girl who could make up her own mind to give herself to Gentry but on equal terms so her giving would be truly that and not a thing contrived or dictated by expediency. If she slipped from the bed, made her way downstairs and out across the fields to where her home awaited she could phone Gentry in the morning and tell him that she was no longer a slave but a girl willing to be his wife, not only willing but also anxious. Cautious and in disbelief, Mia Argent slid from Gentry's bed and tiptoed to the door. Every moment her palpating heart expected a male demand, but it did not come. With each step her freedom became more complete and more assured. At the back door she paused with hand upon the knob to consider if she truly wished to leave the strange and loving thralldom with which Ryan held her. Cautiously she turned the knob and stepped out into the last grayness of night. Never had any girl sped more swiftly or more surely towards a goal. When she reached her home she took the key from its hiding place outside the door, locked it from inside, then dived within the welcome of her own bed and slept gloriously.

Nothing is as we plan. Mia's momentous phone call in the light of day fell short of expectation. Gentry was neither angry or contrite. His demand was slightly touched with humor. "You might just as well walk back over here, sweetheart, it's where you belong, you can't kid yourself. You ought to remember I still have the twins. They are still securely chained and don't even know about your little escapade. If you hurry back you can make my breakfast before I chain you."

In anger, Mia slammed the receiver home in bitter disappointment. But she might have known. Gentry was running true to form. He always would regard anything a female did as slightly absurd and for the amusement of the male. There had been a touch of accusation in his voice and Mia suddenly realized he had, knowingly or otherwise, given her freedom, the very freedom she had asked for and promised not to abuse. She had forgotten how many times she had asked to be forgiven her chains in exchange for her parole, her promise to stay exactly as Gentry desired. But at the first chance she had run away. What was he secretly thinking! Had she, hastily, blown something good?

But the mistress of Dovecove comforted herself with thoughts of woman's liberty and a hope of Gentry's walking across the fields to visit in a civilized fashion. It was not until noon that she realized she was still naked. Testily she dressed but found the clutch of clothes almost claustrophobic and she took them off again and did what she must around the house in stark nudity. But the magic had gone, there was no point in being naked and alone. It was the lustful gaze of men or the appraising eye of the artist which gave nakedness its potency. Irritably she once more dressed and despite discomfort, remained clothed the rest of the day. The hoped for call from Gentry did not come, only the postman knocked at her door. It was all very anti-climactic and unsatisfactory.

The twins arrived in the dark of night. They explained they had been denied covering and therefore must walk bare in the night to avoid being seen. They arrived breathlessly amused but highly critical.

"You were so silly, Mia, to run away like that. We were having such a wonderful time."

"He said he was going to hang us up by our thumbs until you came back and said you were sorry. But he didn't do it. He was ever so nice."

"I bet you, if we had stayed there long enough, he would have gotten around to whipping our bottoms and our tops, too." The accusation in the young voice-was patent.

"You're both impossible," Mia told them crossly. "If you were so happy being chained like a couple of puppy dogs, why don't you go back and ask him to make you prisoners again?"

"Oh, we did that!" the twins assured in unison. "But Mr. Gentry said the only way he would consider that would be if you did too - and there was something about you kneeling down and being humble, I've forgotten exactly what."

"I wish we were grown-up like you are and could be a real slavegirl and sleep with Mr. Gentry." The words were still loaded with reproach. "Mia, I don't see why you ran away, you had it so good."

"We don't see why Mr. Gentry didn't whip you more. I bet it was because you were a fraidy-cat. That one stroke he gave you that one time looked so cute across your bare skin. Mia, you sure are dumb!"

It was a battle Mia could not win. She sent the vociferous pair to their beds but throughout the following day their complaints were constant, their substance was the stupid stupidity of a grown-up girl running away from a great guy like Ryan Gentry who only wanted to paint her picture and keep her chained and sleeping with her every night. They almost succeeded in making their elder sister feel utterly ashamed with her actions, avowing their ardor at the idea of leaping into Mr. Gentry's bed had they been compelled or even just given half the chance. As far as Fancy and Angel were concerned, Mia had put an end to a fun thing and would never be forgiven unless she walked back across the fields and humbly asked for a return to imprisonment.

For Mia Argent it was an unsatisfactory day. Whatever she did went wrong and the twins were a burden. She realized the gulf between herself and her younger sisters in a way she had not done before, but then she asked herself if a gulf did indeed exist. The twins were wanting nothing more than she herself did. They were simply more honest and open about expressing it. And they had not gotten themselves into a position where face could not be saved. Since she could not go back to Gentry save on her knees, she would not go.

The hoped for phone call from her former master never came nor did Gentry himself knock at her door. Mia and her two sisters took up their former lives but did so without zest. In desperation Mia finally picked up the phone.

"You want me to come for tea!" Gentry sounded truly astonished. "What the hell would I come for tea for!"

"Well, I thought we could have a pleasant, civilized talk. I mean on equal terms."

"I don't want any equal terms. Females are not equal to the male, forget it."

"But, Ryan, please do come! It won't hurt you to walk across this afternoon. I'll make cucumber and watercress sandwiches, you said you liked them."

"Damn it, girl, don't you realize that if I walk into that house, I can tie all three of you up and do what I want to you. Where's your equality thing then?"

"Well, the twins and I will serve your Highness your tea on our bent knees. Is that what you want?"

"It's your best try yet," Ryan conceded. "Would you like to invite me to bring handcuffs and leg irons?"

Once more Mia slammed the receiver home in anger. Ryan was overplaying his masculinity and she would have no part of it. If she gave him an inch he would take a mile. If she allowed him to handcuff her, she knew for certain she would walk back to his house with him, or ride in his car, as a prisoner. Her fire burned bright at the thought of what he might then do.

For an hour, Mia fumed and reviewed her prospects. She felt sure she was doing everything wrong but was not certain what was right. Once more she picked up the receiver knowing she must be conciliatory. She was trembling when she heard Gentry's voice. "Oh, Ryan, don't hang up. I'm sorry I did that to you. I'm phoning now to ask, if you won't come to have tea here, can I go and have tea with you? I do so need to talk, there's so much to say. Please ... ?"

"If you come over here, Mia and you're most welcome, the first thing I'll do is whip you then take you to bed. I'll give you tea afterwards unless it's dinner time. If it's that late I might take you out to dine." She heard him chuckle. "Sore ass and all!"

"Ryan, please! Don't make things so difficult."

"I'm teaching you a lesson, Mia. If you want to sweat it out in that feminine place of yours, go ahead. I'm offering you an alternative but on my terms."

"But your terms leave me nothing. Ryan, please, just a cup of tea and a civilized exchange?"

Once more Ryan's chuckle came to the baffled girl across the line. His voice, as usual, left her no defense. "I'm getting a certain amount of kick out of this, you know, Mia," Ryan assured her. "I'm curious to see what you end up doing. I'll make things as hard for you as I can. I've been giving a little thought to inviting Melody back over. The house is empty without you and the twins. I imagine she'd be only too happy to come on the terms I've just given. The poor girl hasn't been fucked for ages."

It was too much! It was the last straw. Mia replaced the receiver with utmost gentleness but grim determination.

Ryan was being deliberately cruel. He would know the dilemma forced on her by the threat of Melody. To picture Melody's return to Gentry's home, even as a humble prisoner, was unthinkable. Yet how could she prevent it by other than utterly demeaning herself and falling in her own estimation and his. By introducing Melody into their separation he had made face-saving on either side difficult. The gap was widening. Mia wondered if it now could ever heal.

It was then the unforeseen occurred.