Forgive me

She stood glistening under the neon lights, beads of sweat trickling from her matted hair, the criss cross wheals across her back bearing testimony to my accuracy with the whip.

She turned towards me pivoting on the spot directly below the hook from which she was partially suspended by her bound wrists and tried to speak, her brown eyes almost pleading. I laid the whip down, and loosened her gag.

"I'm truly sorry, John, you must believe that, please."

"Is that it, you don't want food or a drink, or anything?"

She shook her head, and I resumed, just hard enough to make her squeal not enough to break the skin, the black leather criss crossing her back and buttocks leaving the red marks like a checker board, neat and regular.

Her squeals now echoed through my basement, I paused again, my shirt was soaked with perspiration, I ripped it off and threw it in the corner of the room.

"Yes, you wanted to say something?" I asked, as she stared at me.

She shook her head again, I thought I saw a tear, I moved up close, checking the clothes pins, the one on her left nipple was not quite straight any more and the eight or nine around it were no longer symmetrical so I changed them, a tiny trickle of blood showed where she had bitten her lip  to stop herself crying out.

The clothes pins on her labia were fine, but the one on her clit hood had fallen off again.

"Anything to say now?" I asked.

"Forgive me, that's all." she replied quietly.

I ratcheted the rope higher, making her stand on tip toe then I clamped the fleshy part of her foot with a clothes pin, her leg jerked, and she screamed and swung wildly from the rope. I caught her, steadied her and helped her regain equilibrium.

I clamped all five toes of her left foot from underneath then lifted her up right foot so she stood agonisingly on tip toe supported by the pins or swung agonisingly from the ceiling by the ropes binding her wrists together.

I did the same with her other foot, she started sobbing, "Please forgive me, Please say you will before you kill me." she pleaded.

I turned towards her again and set the whip down, "No, it's not that easy, I'm not going to kill you." I took much of her weight lifting under her arms.

"Do you really think I would do that to you?" I asked.

She whispered, "I deserve to die."

"No you don't deserve to die, but a finger tip, or maybe a toe, or some teeth, something to remember me by for the rest of your life." A keepsake, the top finger joint, with finger nail, neatly severed and preserved in aspic on my desk to remember her be, and a missing finger tip for her to remember me by every time she held a pen.

"That would be right, if you could forgive me, that would be very up fair." she agreed.

"What?" I could not believe this.

"Yes, a finger, if you will accept a finger, and forgive me, then please do it, cut it off, I shall bear the pain as a penance, I shall bear it, it's only fair." shup e whispered.

I lifted her more until the rope fell from the ceiling hook and then lowered her to allow her to sit on the ground.

I started to pack the clothes pins away, clipping each to its cardboard support as I took them from her, her feet kicked involuntarily as I removed the pins from the flesh and toes, then the ones from her thighs, and those round her breasts, those wonderful pear shaped breasts and finally those on her nipples.

She cried out as the blood returned to her nipples, they changed colour like a chameleon and strained as if aroused.

She sat legs wide apart, we both saw the moisture around her crotch, sweat or anticipation, only she knew.

"I think it's time." she said.

"Yes, but not here," I agreed.

I undid her wrists, unwinding the ropes swiftly and as the blood again reached them the colour returned to her bleached white fingers, and she cried with the pain.

I walked to the door, opened it and looked back.  She followed, walking past the chair where I had neatly laid her jacket, skirt and underwear when I undressed her earlier that evening, she followed meekly barefoot and naked.

Up the stairs to the ground floor then on up to my bed room. A nightdress lay across the bed covers, where I had laid it. I held it out for her. "For you."

"Thanks, can I wear it tomorrow, only my back is sore."

"Tomorrow?" I asked, that was not in my plan.

"If you let me stay."

"Yes, stay as long as you want," I said in disbelief.

She climbed into my bed, "I'm not very experienced so please be patient with me."

I smiled at her "I have screwed hundreds of fifty dollar trailer trash whores, black, white, yellow so I guess you are much the same, but I'll use a condom to protect you.

"No John,If you have a disease I deserve it too." she was getting seriously weird but I climbed beneath the covers.

She kissed me, and I kissed her, and she was holding me guiding my manhood towards her womb and suddenly I was inside her, I found myself looking at her face as I fucked her, seeing her face, not looking into the eyes of some cheap hooker imagining it was her but the real thing, and it was good, damn good.

"Need you" she whispered, "Please forgive me, say you will."

I felt the moment approach, and as the love juices exploded from me, "I forgive you, "I love you, I always have, I could have added.

"Thank you, I love you."

I remembered her words from the last time, out in the woods, after the prom, when we made love for the first and only time beneath the stars. "I love you." she said.

I walked her home, we kissed on the porch, and first thing next morning the cops arrested me.

Her folks had complained I raped her, and she went along with it, unable to believe their little girl had grown up, physically at least. Rape not consensual statutory rape, she was eighteen, but like I forced her, chased her to the woods and forced her.

I was all lies, yet she agreed that was what I happened.

It was not my fault my folks died in a car wreck without insurance leaving me to the mercy of my Aunt, that I had worked to pay my way through high school, that I could not afford to go to university, that I was going to work for a betting shop down town instead of being a hot shot accountant.

It just mattered that I was not good enough for their precious daughter Jane.

"Plead guilty, say you were drunk." the bored legal aid lawyer doing his pro bono couple of hours for the week advised, "Spare the girl the ordeal of appearing at the trial."

So I got ten years. They let me out in five, that was two years ago.

No home, no Job and half a million owed to me by bookmakers all over the states.

My boss was never in any doubt I was innocent, but there was no way he could say so and stay in business, but he respected some of the bets I has proposed and my thoroughness and my success rate,  winning on average thirty three per cent, more than I bet where most people manage to lose about the same amount.

So using the pay he owed me as a stake he put bets on for me, farming them out to other businesses when he realised I was winning, putting his own money on as well and then when I was due for release, he got me a job here out east.  It cost me ten thousand dollars, the job, because I was a convicted rapist, yes, you can have a job, so the Probation Officer can agree to your release, ten thousand dollars. I would have paid a hundred thousand to escape from that hell hole, segregated with real perverts, real serial rapists and torturers, fortunate really as none of us were gay unlike the regular inmates, and I sure learned about torture and how to build or where to purchase hardware.

My house cost a big chunk of my winnings it was a decent size in a big plot with plenty of space between it and the neighbours and it had a huge basement, where the previous owner an old guy who had died had a huge model rail road, really old and big the cars being about two feet long, It came complete with locomotives and cars with the house sale and I kept it, I showed it to a couple of neighbours so they thought they knew why I spent so much time down there. But my real interest was a separate store room which I converted to my dungeon.

A spoked wheel eight feet round, a full size cross, hooks in walls and ceiling, lockers for gags and whips and ropes, handcuffs, all manner of torture items, which I got mail order.

All for Jane.  In memory of our last kiss, on her porch, when I went home planning how I could ask her to marry me while she went home to cry rape.

In my mind she would struggle as I cut her clothes from her body and then go from demanding her release and threatening me to begging to be released as hunger overtook her, and pain, hanging from the ceiling while I criss crossed her back and buttocks with my whip.

She would remain tied, standing, either suspended from a hook or on the cross or wheel sooner or later she would need the bathroom, perhaps the thought of me watching her disgrace herself would make her beg, perhaps she would be tied upside down as relief came, but it would be fun.

She would suffer until she begged me to forgive her. Perhaps I would kill her, perhaps cut off a finger or a toe, but she would never forget, if she survived.

My plans went wrong right from the word go, my probation officer gave me a list of whores in case I needed a woman, he figured I would stop raping women if I could just pay a few dollars for the pleasure, and I wasted many hours in their company, but while great in bed, they were no great shakes conversation wise and I ended up visualising Jane's face most times as I screwed them, well every time, I could not get her out of my mind.

Then when I got a detective to track Jane down he was was not discrete enough and Jane's folks knew I was searching for her.

They warned her, I was just a hundred miles away. "Be careful, get a restraining order," they warned.

She got in her car and came straight over, straight away, no luggage, she got straight in her little Mazda and hit the freeway, and when I got home from work she was waiting.

"Hello John, do you remember me."

"Hi Janie" my heart had pounded, "How could I forget."

I unlocked my front door unsure what she was expecting of me.

She walked towards me as if to follow me inside.

"Come in," I suggested sarcastically. "How are you?"

"Fine, but we have unfinished business."

"I built you a special room," I told her, "I was going to fetch you."

"Show me." she said.

"A torture chamber, dungeon." I continued.

"Show me."

I lead her to the basement and unlocked what appeared to be a closet door which led to my chamber. It was warm in there, she looked around.

"For me?" she asked.

She was older, more self assured, not fearful, but no less beautiful than the girl I loved.  I imagined her with her husband, kids, I could see how a missing finger tip would forever remind her how she ruined my life.

"Yes I did it all for you." I replied. "Made most of it, bought the rest."

"So you never used it I guess you want to punish me, " she suggested.

"Yes." I said simply.

I laid hands on her for the first time since the night, seven years ago.  I went to tear her jacket, but somehow I could not do it so I eased it from her shoulders and placed it over the chair, she handed me her skirt and underwear stood before me barefoot and naked.

"Will you tie me up." she asked holding out her hands.

I nodded and fetched the rope, winding it round and round her wrists then I moved her so she was under the pulley  hanging from a hook on the ceiling, I pulled small hook on the rope round the pulley, hooked the rope round her wrists to it and then wound up the rope with a winch to raise her hands above her head, the ratchet clicked ominously in the confined space.

I gagged her, she opened her mouth wide to take the red ball of the gag, she looked calm, collected composed, and she watched expectantly as I took a whip from the cabinet and flicked it experimentally.

I hung my jacket on a hook, and taking a firm grip on the whip I started to whip her, across her bare buttocks and lower back left to right then right to left alternately, trying to get that checker board appearance.

I rested and added some clothes pins to her nipples and down to her sex, adding pins to her Labia, she bore the pain, without struggling to escape, and the anger even the hate I felt was ebbing away.

I tried whipping her again then as I rested again I tried adding a sunburst of clothes pins to each breast and around each nipple.  I tried to get one on her clitoral hood but it would not grip very well.

That's when she wanted to speak, no begging to be released, just for forgiveness.

My shirt was wringing with sweat, It tore as I pulled it over my head and I threw it into the corner, that's when she asked for forgiveness,

She had bitten into her own lip to stop from crying out when I removed her gag, and suddenly it was clear that she needed to be punished, at least as much as I needed to punish her.

The thoughts raced around my mind as I lay half asleep in my bed dreaming.

I thought I must be dreaming. I woke with a start, and she was there with me in my bed, and the bed was wet and sticky, I thought for a second it was Jane, the girl who I supposedly raped and then suddenly I realised, yes it was her, the events of the evening came back.

She looked so lovely sleeping there, I felt bad about the marks where I whipped her, and as the first grey streaks of dawn appeared I shut off my alarm.

When I woke, again, she was looking at me.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

"My back stings, but otherwise, I'm fine." she replied.

"I have some balm somewhere, I rub it on" I offered."Did you sleep well apart from that?"

"Yes, like a baby, no nightmares." she confirmed.

"Nightmares? I asked.

"Yes, ever since they made me say you raped me, I had nightmares."

"But not last night?"

"What now?" I asked her.

Her hand reached out and cupped my balls, a finger ran along my shaft and suddenly I was hard.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, "You are eager,"

I slid my hand between her thighs, and parted her lower lips, "So are you."

We took our time, getting to know each other.

I was kissing her nose, locked together my penis deep in side her, rocking dreamily.

"You have a son." she said.

"Wha" I exclaimed as I lost what control I had and I shot my load in her again.

"That night, I got pregnant, He is six now, my aunt raises him, are you cross."

I was stunned

"Gee, a kid."

"Mom made me, The Police, giving John to Aunt Maude to bring up. everything."

She was upset.

I kissed her mouth for a while till I got hard again and showed her my feelings in a way words can never convey, my poor aching balls delivered their seed once again and then I lay back, the love bites were embarrassingly prominent on her neck, I scarcely remembered leaving them, and she was smiling.

"What" I asked.

"Your neck" she replied and there in the mirror was the evidence that she had also bitten me.

We showered and I rubbed lotion into the marks across her lower back then she led me to the Dungeon, and stood waiting, expectantly, I picked up the whip and put it in the cabinet. "it's over" I told her, as I handed her, the panties and bra she had discarded.

"Not us, surely?" she replied.

"No the need for all this." I waved at the equipment.

She dressed, somehow dressing seems so much sexier than undressing and when she saw how excited I had become she again led me to the bedroom where she discarded her panties and pantihose, and we made love again.

We talked, we went shopping, some things for her to wear, dinner at a decent restaurant, talking, then the deep stuff and we travelled to her place collected some documents and we married in Vegas. My probation officer was somewhat surprised but five thousand dollars smoothed his objections.

She moved in with me and her company found her a job down town, things were great, except we had a kid, somewhere and we wanted him with us.

I came home early and heard noises from the dungeon, Janie was flaying the wall with a whip, dressed only in a black basque, and black stockings.

"Janie" I called.

She dropped the whip. "Oh dear, sorry John, I got carried away."

"Is that me," I asked.

"Mother" she answered, "She wrote me, says I am deranged, mad to marry you, I hate her John."

"You want to whip her?"  I asked "Humiliate her." She nodded. "Really?" she nodded again. "Then call her, have her visit then be my guest."

I sat by as she phoned her mother, she had no idea we were married and we knew she would round real soon.

She arrived by Taxi, she was younger than I remembered, glamorous, in a tarty sort of way, the Taxi driver carried her expensive leather luggage to our porch and soon she was sitting in my house drinking my Coffee and telling my wife why she should leave me. Janie showed her over the house.

"Come see the basement mom."

Janie led her down, I waited.

To be continued.