Misery · Part 3 (3/3)
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“I made it my birthday party. And his submission was my birthday gift. I ordered some new leather cuffs, a paddle, a strap, and a couple other toys from Quartermaster. Had some other equipment made up special for the occasion too.” Melody picked up a napkin and sketched absently on it with a chewed up yellow pencil.
“Got a place in Gatlinburg and set it up nice. Food. Beer. Wine. Cake, of course. And a glass wall across the great room to make a viewing gallery. Joe never let me work him over in public, so that was a limit that had to be broken. The wall was thick panels and pretty soundproof too.”
Melody's sketch showed a man bound in a standing spread eagle to the corners of a rectangular frame. She picked up another napkin.
“I woke him up late. Everyone was hiding in the basement by then. I showered with him. Shaved him. Teased him with my mouth. Basically I built him up as much as I could to make the crash as awful as possible. I blindfolded him and fed him breakfast. Then I hooded him, blocking his ears. And, because Joe has the nose of a fucking bloodhound, I made sure to dab a little cologne on the hood near his nostrils.”
The new sketch was of the head and shoulders of a hooded man, blinded and deafened by leather restraints and soft pads. Melody reached over and picked up another napkin.
“The cuffs went on next. Joe got really hard at that. I think he could smell the leather. Plus Carl has some weird savant talent for making that stuff. They melded to Joe like a second skin. I used heavy chain to fasten him to the corners of a very stout custom frame. It even had wheels so I could roll Joe into position, turn him this way and that for the viewing pleasure of my friends.
“He looked amazing stretched out like that.” Melody paused, remembering. “He was so beautiful. I came close to calling the whole thing off right there. He's probably more muscular and buff now, but I don't think that will be an improvement.” She turned away and rubbed her eyes for a moment.
“But I didn't. Instead I signaled my helpers to let the crew up from the basement. They had all given up their cell phones. I'm not a complete bitch. But I had a professional videographer recording the scene.
“Did I mention Kristal was there? She's a switch, if you didn't know already. I never understood that. Like bisexuals and trannies. I know it's considered rude now, but I'm like, pick a fucking side already, you know? Anyway, she was already halfway to a killer hangover. She used to drink like a fish, back in the day.
“So there's poor Joe, strung up for everyone to see. Cock straining straight at my glass wall like a cannon. I warmed him up with a little hand spanking. Joe can take a hand spanking while sound asleep, but I like the color. I moved onto the paddle then. And I worked him over pretty good.”
Melody flicked her latest sketch away, a cock with a bow wrapped around the shaft and balls. She reached over the bar and grabbed a stack of napkins. The bartender glanced up, but didn't move.
“I love the strap. You can do so much with it. Hard to spank or paddle calves, but a strap can't tell a calf muscle from an ass muscle. I started at his calves and worked up. Of course I skipped over the knees. I'm a criminally evil bitch, but I'm not like a nurse or some other sadistic torture freak.
“Then the thighs. He has very muscular legs, which is hard to notice the way he dresses now.
“Let's skip ahead. I'm sure you've seen a thrashing or two in your time, Mistress Amanda. When he was as red as I was going to make him, I started playing with his skin. Kissing. Touching. A little ice. A little heat. My assistants were silently waiting for their chances to play, and I started working them in. But I always made sure only two hands were on him at a given time. I wanted him to think that I was pretending to be multiple people. To feel safe with me.”
“That's so fucked up,” Amanda said.
“Yes. It is. But I did it anyway. We took our sweet time, tormenting his nipples and his cock, such easy targets. We tickled under his arms. I kissed the backs of his knees and tickled his toes. We spread soothing ointment on his hot red hide. Eventually, I let Carissa pinch him quickly while I had two hands on him.
“He sensed something was off right away and squirmed a little. A few minutes later we did it again. Then I stepped back and let Fay and Carissa play. They tried to keep him fooled, but they couldn't be as smooth as me. I stepped up onto the platform and pressed my body against his. After unblocking one of his ears, I told him I had a friend over to share my birthday present. Carissa's a beautiful red haired vixen, and I described her in explicit detail as she ran her hands and mouth over Joe.
“He calmed down and accepted my dominance, just like always. Carissa concentrated on Joe's package, keeping him very close to the edge, and I let Fay join me. He picked that up instantly, and I leaned up again and explained that if one friend is good, then two friends had to be better. Fay is blonde, darker blonde than mine, but still lovely. I made sure he knew how beautiful and talented she was. It took longer, but he calmed down again.”
The sketch she shoved aside was more detailed than the previous ones. A naked woman knelt before the bound man, mouth pleasuring him. Another woman, also naked, with a mane of shaggy hair, knelt behind him, both hands on his ass cheeks. Melody picked up another napkin from her stack and doodled on it.
“After signaling the crowd to be absolutely silent, I had two of my other assistants, big strapping men, remove two of the glass panels. I have to give Joe credit. He stopped and went on alert instantly, sensing something had changed.
“It was such a rush. The crowd was silent and totally entranced. Joe was squirming somewhere between panic and ecstasy. Carissa had Joe at the perfect edge, one hot breath away from blowing his load. Fay grabbed his ass cheeks and spread them, then slopped about a whole tube of lube into Joe's crack. She had the tip of the most realistic dildo I had ever seen pressed right against his tight little asshole.
“Which is when I had one of the guys say 'Happy birthday, Mistress Melody' right behind Joe. He went nuts. His erection was instantly gone. He pulled those chains so hard I though he might actually break something. The leather cuffs creaked like they might give way.”
Melody pushed another napkin aside. This one had a drawing of a bound man straining at his bondage. Amanda couldn't believe the detail Melody portrayed on a napkin with just a pencil.
“I uncovered his eyes then and everyone yelled surprise. He saw Kristal there and just went limp. I thought I had broken him then. She turned and vomited onto some throw pillows.”
“Motherfucker,” Amanda said, slurring the word a little after her third martini.
“I know. I was going to hold up a mirror so he could see that it was just Fay and her dildo behind him, and see if he wanted her to finish what she started. That would have been the emasculating icing on a birthday cake of misery, I thought. But, my minions misunderstood my directions and started unfastening the chains.”
On the napkin, a chain appeared, whipping through the air.
“I meant for them to wait, then unchain him one limb at a time, with refastening to maintain control. He was going to get bent over the table for me to eat my cake off of. I don't know how it got fucked up. Fay and the rest of them were not newbs, but somehow three chains were undone and none of those limbs were secure. I stepped up to reassert control and that minx Kristal shoves my camera guy face first into the wall and grabs his camera, running for the door. Sprinting for the door. The last thing I remember was thinking how beautiful she looked, so purposeful and serene at the same time. Not like a stupid drunk slut at all.”
A fist appeared on the napkin.
“Joe punched me in the face. Or so I'm told. Everything I tell you next is what witnesses have told me.” Melody touched her left cheek, high up. “He broke my face. My jaw. Most of my teeth. My eye socket. One punch and he nearly killed me. He kicked poor Carissa in the ribs, and then while she was rocked back clutching her side, he kicked her in the shoulder. She crashed into another guest. Vince caught a backhanded chain flying through the air at about warp speed. He had enough time to turn his head, so instead of getting his face pureed, he got a cracked skull. As he was dropping, Joe kicked him in the arm, shattering it. I hear Vince can use his hand again now though.”
“Sweet mother…”
“Yeah. That's your new boyfriend, Amanda. Of course he wasn't done yet. He unclipped his other ankle and turned to Fay. By then, the room had dissolved into complete chaos. Because of me and my party rules, no one had a phone. No one was dialing 911. They were running for the doors. One guy went through a window. Fay just stood there, like the dumb little bunny she was.”
“Oh no…” Amanda started.
“Don't panic. She's fine. Mike grabbed Joe's wrist as he wound up to hit her. That punch would have certainly killed her, what with the weight of the chain and her just waiting for it and all. Instead, Joe jerked his arm back and pulled Mike straight at him. The dumbass held on for some reason. Joe allegedly catches this guy, who was five eleven and about 190, and throws him at Fay. It sounds worse than it was. They go down in a heap and now they're married with two kids and one on the way.”
Amanda exhaled sharply and gulped down the last of her drink.
“No one is left in the house now. At least no one conscious. Someone called the EMTs. Maybe Kris, maybe someone with an extra phone in their car. Joe walks out of the house like some kind of robot, covered in blood, most of it not his, and just starts down the road, naked, collared, with cuffs and chains still attached. At some point he rips most of the rest of the hood off his head.
“Here's where it gets weird. No one saw him leave. Did Kristal pick him up? Did he see his own car and take off? Where the fuck did he go? The cops can't find any of my guests except a camera man with no camera, three critically injured people, and another two who aren't that bright to start with, and who just got knocked silly by a lunatic. Supposedly, Mike told the cops that a man picked him up and threw him across the room after beating the shit out of three or four others.
“But the cops aren't totally stupid. There's a bondage frame on wheels, and enough S&M gear to start a catalog business. And I'm wearing a leather tank top and leather miniskirt with high heel ankle boots. Carissa is naked and so is Fay. I'm sure they figured it out. No one died. The owner of the house was reimbursed and the whole thing was swept under the rug, out the door, and down the holler.
“I wake up at Vanderbilt, wishing I was dead.”
“I'll bet,” Amanda said. She peered at Melody's face, something she wouldn't have done without three martinis in her. “I can't tell.”
“I've had three reconstructive surgeries. My teeth on this side are titanium, I think. My jaw is held together with more metal, and my cheek bone is also screwed together somehow. My ear rings most of the time and my vision is a little blurred out of this eye. It's a good thing Daddy was loaded. I'm going to California in a few weeks to see another doctor who claims he can fix me up as good as new.”
“Good luck,” Amanda said, not knowing what else to say.
“Thanks. Vince won't talk to me. I keep tabs on him through some other mutual friends. Carissa survived the punctured lung and internal bleeding. She owns a real nice restaurant in Chattanooga. But when she goes home at night she locks her doors eight times, arms three different alarm systems, and sleeps with a gun instead of a man. Or a woman, you know, whatever rocks your world.”
“What about you?” Amanda asked, ready to hear the words 'the end.'
“This is the part I want you to hear. Did I deserve to die that day?” Melody shrugged. “I did a terrible, shitty thing to someone I used to love. Worse, my friends got hurt because of my stupidity. After two years of recovery, I was ready to go out in public again. Ready to try living again. Only I was persona non grata everywhere I wanted to go. Dungeons were closed to me, even in New York and Chicago. Clubs wouldn't answer my e-mails. I couldn't get into a fucking munch in a piss-ant town full of retirees!
“The 'kink community' had banished me, and, I guess I deserved that. Time passed and some of them started to relent. I had to make restitution though. I had to display public remorse. I had to walk naked through the streets and have rotten fruit thrown at me.”
Amanda arched an eyebrow.
“Okay. That part didn't happen. I thought you might have dozed off. Here's the part I want you to know, most of all. I literally crawled across the parking lot to apologize to Joe Axel. He told me to go fuck myself. And while I was at it, I could fuck all the fucking idiots who told me to do something as stupid as crawling across his busted ass parking lot.”
Melody pushed another napkin away, one showing a woman on all fours, forehead to the ground.
“They made me do it again. Then I got to deliver a public apology at a con last year. It was recorded and distributed all over. They sent a copy to Joe in the mail. They sent a copy to his e-mail. They sent a copy to his now deleted Facebook account. I had to make one more trip to his shop and offer monetary restitution and another apology. Do you know what Joe said?”
“Go fuck yourself,” Amanda said with a slight giggle.
“No. He asked me what part of 'go fuck yourself' I didn't understand. He asked me if I was stupid or just deaf. He suggested I blow every dom in the country to get them off his back. And he said if I showed up at his home or place of business again, the right side of my face would match the left. That terrified me. I told the kink mafia that I would do whatever they required, as long as it didn't lead to my brutal murder at the hands of Joe Axel. Miracle of miracles, they cut me some slack.”
“So what's your point?” Amanda asked.
“He won't ever forgive me, which is understandable. But he won't move on either. He wants to be mad forever. He doesn't just wallow in his anger. He wants to wallow in it. Do you know what he does when he's not working?”
“Salsa dancing?” Amanda said.
“Funny. He works out. Every day. He trains with any martial arts school that will take him. He goes to the gun range twice a week. One of these days, he's going to snap, and I hope I'm in Tasmania when he does.”
“He didn't snap today. He didn't kill me, or Kristal, or Carl. He didn't even kill you. Doesn't that poke a few holes in your theory?” Amanda asked.
“Maybe. Maybe I'm full of shit and just trying to poison the well. Or maybe I'm not a complete waste of oxygen, and I've learned a very hard lesson. One way or another, everyone else in that house that day has moved on with their life. Except Joe. Joe wants to relive it. He wants to make it turn out different.”
“Are you suggesting I scene this whole thing with him in a session?” Amanda said.
“No you fucking drunk twat! Don't think with your kink. Think with your heart. Screw this. It… waste of time.” Melody looked up at the bar tender. “Get her some help getting back to her room,” she said. She dropped a pair of $100 bills on the bar. The bartender suddenly started moving faster.
The next morning, Amanda approached Melody as the blonde domme ate breakfast.
"May I join you?" she said. Melody gestured to the three empty chairs at her table.
Between bites of omelet, Melody said, "You have 45 minutes. I have a presentation this morning at 9:00."
"Oh? What's the topic?"Amanda asked.
"The Important Role Of Safety, Sanity, and Consensuality in Fetish Relationships," Melody said.
Amanda stared at her. "Okay, if you don't want to tell me…"
"No! That's really the title. The kink mafia made it a condition of my attendance. I have to give the same talk three days in a row. And I have to do a good job, no phoning it in. And, I suspect there'll be exactly one person in the room, because I'm still in the doghouse." Melody paused. "But enough about me, you have questions, right? You don't look hungover."
"I'm not. I was more tired than tipsy last night. Thank you for taking care of me, though." Amanda looked at the woman opposite of her, and wondered what Joe had felt at Carl's when he figured out she was a dominatrix.
"Are you trying to mind probe me or something?" Melody said.
Amanda laughed. She couldn't help it. "No. I just had an epiphany, that's all. Why do you try so hard to be awful, especially to Joe?" Amanda said.
"Because if I'm going to be despised, I might as well enjoy being despicable. I've had my fill of sack cloth and ashes. It's a contrarian impulse, I guess," Melody said.
"What happened to the video?"
"You'll have to ask Kristal. I get a different story every time I inquire. At first, she held it over me, threatening to go to the police if any heat got put on Joe. Then she said she destroyed it. I imagine it's in a safe deposit box in some hick town bank in Tennessee."
"Any of your friends still in the scene?" Amanda asked on impulse.
"Fay. She even talks to me like I'm not a wretched sack of crap," Melody said.
"Thanks. I'm sorry I'll miss your talk," Amanda said.
"What are you going to do now?"
"Get on with my life. I stuck my head in a hornet's nest, I don't think I should complain about escaping unscathed," Amanda said.
"Are you going to call him?" Melody asked. The look on her face told Amanda that Joe wasn't the only one stuck in the past.
"Joe doesn't want me to call him."
"He won't call first, no matter how badly he needs you," Melody said. The pitch of her voice rose with each word.
"I know," Amanda said. She walked away without looking back.
Chapter 4 – Amanda's Getaway The first thing Amanda did upon returning to her suite was arrange for a rented SUV to be delivered to the Plaza. She repacked the few items that had been unpacked in the last six hours, then piled her luggage by the door. She briefly considered leaving the two Quartermaster cases behind.
Finally, she opened one, letting the rich aroma of fine leather and delicate oils wash over her. She selected a small valise from within the larger case and peeked inside to verify the presence of a set of wrist and ankle cuffs. They were exquisitely crafted black leather with red accents cleverly worked into the main construction of the restraints. She closed everything back up and, keeping the valise in one hand, called the front desk for a porter with a luggage cart.
"Do you have any gift wrap and tape?" Amanda asked the friendly desk clerk.
"Yes, that will be fine," she said when the clerk described the array of supplies the office maintained.
The porter arrived, a short, muscular woman in an outfit composed mainly of leather straps and a pair of flat black boots. She also wore the now familiar badge and lanyard of a hotel staffer. The woman quickly loaded the cart and followed Amanda to the elevator.
At the desk, Amanda insisted on wrapping the case herself. First, she applied a cheerful sparkly green gift wrap to her present. Then, she used a heavy plain brown paper to enclose the gift and provide a place to write:
Ms Melody Parker "Don't think with your kink" is advice I will reflect upon frequently.
Amanda Haile "I assume that you can see this safely delivered to Melody?" Amanda asked the clerk.
"Of course, Ms. Haile, I will attend to it myself," the woman said without sounding offended by Amanda's blunt query.
"Thank you, Miss," Amanda said. Using a trick she learned from her older brother, she extended her arm for a handshake, passing the clerk a folded tip.
"My pleasure, ma'am. I'm sorry you are ending your stay with us early. I hope nothing is amiss."
"My stay, short as it was, was excellent. An unexpected opportunity has appeared, and I must take advantage of it. I hope to return for some future occasion."
"Good luck, Ms. Haile," the clerk said.
"Opportunity?" Mojave said from behind Amanda. "That doesn't involve a road trip to Nashville, does it."
"No. I'll be heading south until I see white sand. Then I may just keep going. I haven't decided yet," Amanda said, turning to the slender figure behind her.
"Oh," Mojave looked taken aback. She stepped closer to Amanda, conspiratorially close. "I hope there is no issue with the con or its participants."
"No. I think I would like to come back next year, if I'm invited. I just need some time to gather my wits," Amanda said. "Too much drama for an introvert like me."
"Have a safe trip, Amanda. I look forward to seeing you again," Mojave said before leaving to catch up on her admin duties.
Many hours later, Amanda sat on a balcony overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. Below, children screamed and laughed, playing in the surf or digging in the sand.
On the table before her was a collection of postcards, already stamped. They bore her current, beach condo, return address, plainly printed in block letters, and the recipient's address in equally plain print.
The short message was identical on each card: 'Dear Joe, Wish you were here. Really. Amanda'
After deciding where to get dinner, she walked down to the lobby and dropped a third of the postcards into the outgoing mail. A horde of small kids ran past her, sand and water droplets flying everywhere.
"Sorry, lady," a harried woman said as she ran by.
"No problem." Amanda chuckled as she brushed sand off her shirt and shorts. On the way to her rented Suburban, she picked up a real estate magazine, in case she discovered a reason to stay. She would scout out the local scene later, assuming there even was one.
She didn't have a million years, but she was a patient woman. Nearly three weeks passed before Amanda received a reply, a single postcard reading: 'I am on vacation. What do you want?'
The return address was a beachfront motel not far from her own lodgings. She had his number, thanks to Kristal. Joe answered on the second ring.
"To answer your question, dinner would be nice," Amanda said. "Something besides waffles. Or are you about to tell me to go…"
"That would be rude," Joe said, cutting her off. "I try to control my language in polite company."
"That's very thoughtful," Amanda said. She meant what she said, of course, but she also recognized that Joe had just told Mistress Amanda to stay away. She could live with that.
"DeSoto's at 6:00? There'll be plenty of time not to chat while we wait for a table," Joe said.
"Will you answer my questions if I answer yours?" Amanda asked.
"I reserve the right to remain silent," Joe answered.
"Fair enough. See you soon." Amanda waited a beat, then said, "Joe? Can you pick me up?"
"What's the problem this time?"
"No problem. I just like riding with you," Amanda said. She was answered with laughter so loud she moved the phone away from her ear.
"See you at a quarter til," Joe said, still laughing when the line went dead.
"Well," she said to the chilled air of her rented home away from home. "This should be fun." Amanda thought of her conversation with Melody. The woman was right about one thing. It was time for Joe to leave the wallow.
Misery · Part 3 (3/3)
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