Message-ID: <20057eli$9902200425@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: np98rb@mail.telepac.pt (Christine & David Stevenson) Subject: The Governor's Wife - part eleven Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <36cd9c6b.423031460@news.ip.pt> Warning: This story is about non-consensual domination. It is fiction, and erotic - despite or perhaps partly because it is non-consensual. - - - - - - - - - - - - cut-here - - - - - - - - - - - - - The Governor's Wife by Victor Bruno Part Eleven When Frank came round, he thought at first he must have had some kind of accident and was in hospital. He kept his eyes closed, trying to orientate his thoughts. There seemed to be pain everywhere. In his neck, his arms, his thighs and, above all, over his buttocks .... His buttocks! Frank's eyelids sprang back .... and he literally screamed as, with a hideous rush, full sensibility came back to him. The cause of his pains were immediately obvious, for he was bound hand and foot to the long trestle stool that stood in Hettie's bedroom. Or rather, his arms and thighs were corded to the legs and there was another cord about his neck, secured similarly. And there was no need to tell him the reason for the pain in his buttocks! She had knocked him senseless with a single blow! Now he was helpless! Panic gripped him at the thought .... and he tugged and tugged like a maniac at his bonds, at the same time bellowing and begging to be released. It could not be happening! It could not be! Not to him! "Stop.... ooohhh.... stop!" he howled. "I... I g-give up .... I do .... I do! I'll go .... go to the Governor .... I will! I .... I'll admit rape .... anything!" Hettie tapped his helpless buttocks lightly with the cane. "Afterwards," she said softly. "No .... NO .... OOWWW!" it was a shriek. A shriek of pure terror. "Afterwards, if you like," said Hettie in the same soft way. "Please now....pleee....eeease....no.... ooowww ...." moaned Frank. "There's nothing you can do about it any more, Frank," said Hettie, in the same, almost gentle tone. "Nothing at all. No twisting away.... no clasping of hands ...." "M-Mercy .... m-mercy ...." "Absolutely nothing at all. And you've still got eighteen more to come!" There was still no venom or cruelty in the voice. It was rather like that of a mother chiding her child. Regretting she had to take punitive action. Implying it was for the child's own good. Frank prayed for insensibility. Eighteen more like that! They would not be possible to endure. Frank prayed for death. Perhaps it would come anyway. Flesh and blood had its limits .... His whole body and being seemed to clench inwardly as he heard the deadly whistle of the cane descending. Then it flamed across his flesh .... searing deep.... Deep in his mind, too.... Convulsed in agony within his restricting bonds, a banshee-like howl jetted from his throat. Frank Lander was about to learn the meaning of true pain. And he knew it! - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Frank survived. But there were many, many moments during that merciless thrashing which Hettie Page gave him, when he wished he would not. Time and again he was sure that death would have been preferable to enduring just one more whip-lashing stroke of the rod, laid on with all the force at Hettie's command. Particularly strong was Frank's wish to die when one stroke overlaid a previous one. Whether by accident or design. The pain seemed sufficient to make one lose one's mind. Frank howled himself hoarse. He howled with pain. And he howled for mercy. At some stage, he did not howl. He cursed. He cursed his Fate.... and this woman who was driving him beyond the limits of endurance. Yet still, remorselessly, inevitably .... at slowly measured intervals .... stroke followed stroke. The Governor's wife said not a word. Her whole being was concentrated on her task and her target. The only sounds she made were the grunts of effort which accompanied every stroke. By the end, the whole area was a mass of ridged, red-purple weals. Each one an individual source of burning-throbbing torment. And by the end, Frank was as near insensible again as made no difference. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Some kind of cool ointment was going over his agonizingly tender flesh. Oh what a blessed relief that was! Frank sobbed unashamedly. Oh how kind she was .... how kind! He was still tied to the trestle stool. But it was all over. Frank sobbed even more with relief at the knowledge. His mind veered away from the excruciating experience he had just endured. Time in plenty to recall that later. Now he just wanted to wallow in the warm pool of consciousness in which he seemed to have arrived. To let time stand still. Frank was, in fact, rather like someone in a state of shock. Oh please let her go on doing that! Indefinitely. Oh it's so lovely! So cooling. So soothing. And it's all over .... She caned me. Terribly. But I'm still here. I've survived. One step nearer freedom. Oh .... oh .... yes .... yes .... it's all over .... Frank did not mind how much he sobbed, feeling the hot tears running down his cheeks. What did anything matter any more? It was over .... All over! ?? - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - URL
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