She was 33, divorced, no kids, and had told me many times she could make us exclusive if I were to make the commitment. At the moment, we were happy with the way things were, and she didn’t beat me over the head with a commitment stick. I knew she wouldn’t wait forever, but I still felt there were other waters to sail.As Bea (she still hadn’t introduced herself) approached she smiled confidently and said, “I’m heading home if you would like to stop by for ... coffee.” She never slowed down her pace, she just kept walking.I finished that block and headed toward her street, still unsure of either her, or my, intentions.I walk up her drive and went to the side door and pressed the welcome button to hear a distinct buzzer, not a bell. That, to me, clarified what she meant earlier.She answered her door in the clothes she walked in, saying only, “I’m so glad you stopped, my name is Bea. Yours is?”“I’m Nick,” I said. “My brother Vince lives here.”“I’m familiar with Vince, never met him, but. .. I HAD TO... THEY M-MADE ME DO S-SUCH TH-THINGS... ﾓWhat does manly pride matter in such moments? Not one iota. I knew I would have done anything... anything... if only I could escape that slicing knife. Oh, if only they would plunge it into my heart at that very moment!ﾓShall I begin with the whip?ﾔ asked Mara.ﾓIf you like,ﾔ replied Deema.Self-pity overwhelmed me; I broke down into sobs.ﾓWhat a man,ﾔ sneered Mara.ﾓWell, he wonﾒt be one much longer,ﾔ giggled her younger sister.A sickness rose up within me; my whole body was wet with sweat. A sweat of dread.Then, by using pulleys, they manoeuvred me so that I was hanging inverted from a beam above, my legs splayed. My utter, helpless vulnerability was a shrieking horror within me.ﾓNow, you bastard... suffer!ﾔThe whipping began. Stroke after stroke across my thighs, my buttocks, my back... agonising strokes that had me bellowing like a bull, swinging back and forth, upside down, as if I were a rag-doll.At some point, Deema took over.
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