Chapter 29 – Breaking my Fiancée
Dinners with all the group in attendance were becoming more and more infrequent. Tim was gone, of course, so Lucija was spending more evenings at the dorm where she could study. Carl had moved in with Dr. Ana. It was no surprise when Mal announced that he was planning to head back and take over his father’s construction business. It was also no surprise that Reese was going with him, especially since she could continue being out graphic designer working remotely.
I knew, if I was going to make my move, that it needed to be soon. We planned a gathering to celebrate Sara surviving 24 days in the hole. Everyone was present because everyone wanted to hear Sara describe her experience, especially Heather. So, I decided this was the perfect time.
Sara had recovered physically from the experience and although perhaps quieter than before, didn’t seem to have any lasting psychological effects. Her sense of humor hadn’t changed, nor had her serious professional demeanor.
I made sure to grill up some large fat hamburgers with all the trimmings, and I made sure Sara’s was served without the bun. Everyone kept their curiosity in check, at least through the meal. But as soon as we moved from the dining room to the living room Sara said, “OK, I know you pervs are waiting to hear about my experience. I’m not sure I want to share after Quinn told me about the camera. Exactly how many times did you creeps watch me masturbate?”
“Uh, what was the count Mal,” Carl asked, “I think it was six hundred and forty-two?”
“No, six hundred and forty-three.” Mal replied with a smile.
“NO WAY” Sara said. “I was only down there two months. At least it felt like two months.”
“Besides,” Maggie added, "we were watching in pure respect and awe!”
“Unhuh, sure.” Sara replied with a grin.
I had put the slut in conversation mode so she chimed in, “They didn’t let me watch at all Sara or I’m sure I would have been right there rubbing furiously with you!”
That made everyone laugh.
“Seriously,” Sara continued, “it was mostly crushing boredom. You cannot understand how slowly time passes down there. It felt like months and months. I tried everything to occupy my mind.”
“Yea,” Paula interrupted, “we enjoyed your singing... NOT!”
“It would have helped,” Sara said, “if I could have remembered the words. That was incredibly frustrating, not being able to remember words.”
“So then you started reciting medical texts or something?” Maggie asked.
“Yes,” Sara replied, “and nursery rhymes and anything else that popped into my head. Then one time I remember trying to get up to pee and my legs wouldn’t move right. And I knew immediately that I needed to force myself to exercise. So, I started walking around an 8-foot cell.”
Sara continued, “Speaking of pee, using the hole in the floor was the worst. Thank goodness, with the tiny amount of bread I was getting at least I didn’t have to defecate that often. But it almost never went right in the hole. I didn’t want to leave it where my bread might fall in it, so I had to push it in the hole with my feet.”
“Yuck!” Reese exclaimed. “But, speaking of bread, did you enjoy the toppings?”
Sara laughed, “Actually, I did. I must confess that I haven’t swallowed as much of Quinn as I should, especially since he spent his time becoming quite an expert at oral! But I knew what and whose it was immediately and all I could picture was Quinn’s magnificent penis, hard and firm, squirting on my bread!”
“So, what happened at the end?” Ana asked.
“I guess I just shut down.” Sara replied. “I had run out of things to keep my mind busy; I was getting so few calories that my brain wasn’t functioning well, and I just stopped thinking, stopped caring.”
“So, it was the right time to bring you out?” Paula asked.
“Yes, it was. I was surprised that it had only been two weeks.” Sara replied.
“But you seemed to recover quickly.” Ana pointed out.
“All I could think about was food! I had been cold and incredibly hungry the whole time. In fact, the small portions of bread seemed to set my stomach off and it gnawed at me even more. So, when I saw the hatch open, all I could think about was food.” Sara replied.
“So,” Mal asked, “I guess you’re done with your oubliette fetish?”
“When I first came out,” Sara said, “If you had asked me that I would have said ‘absolutely’. Now, just a few days later I’m already starting to fantasize about my time down there. And Mal, I need to thank you for all your hard work on the cistern. I know you didn’t build It for me specifically, but it worked perfectly, I was just warm enough, had just enough of that nasty water off the wall, obviously didn’t die of lack of oxygen. And you can’t see shit down there!”
That got another laugh out of the group.
At that, I suggested to Paula that it was time for dessert. She had prepared a peach cobbler and when she and Maggie went to the kitchen to get it, I grabbed what I needed and got into position by the end of the dining table. When Paula came back, I was already on one knee at the end of the table. She paused just a fraction of a second, then tried to ignore me as she put the dish down on the end of the table.
“Paula,” I said loudly as I opened the ring box, “will you marry me?”
The room got very quiet. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath waiting for her to say “yes.”
“MAKE ME!” Paula said forcefully, then promptly pivoted and walked out of the room back to the kitchen.
Maggie was left standing where Paula had been a moment before, holding a serving spoon, as the whole room remained deathly silent. I had caught the whole group, apparently including Paula, off guard with the proposal. But everyone, including me, expected a ‘yes’.
What kind of an answer was “make me?” And she didn’t even look down at the ring.
Maggie tried to break the tension, “Who wants Cobbler?”
After the shock passed a bit, I looked around the room at all the sympathetic faces, then made my way to find Paula. As I entered the kitchen I could hear her, literally throwing dishes into the sink.
“How could you!” She asked without even turning around.
“I thought I was being romantic?” I replied.
“You should have talked to me first before embarrassing yourself in front of the whole group!” She said, now sounding more sad than angry.
“I just never thought...” I started.
“NO, you didn’t,” she interrupted.
Maggie started to come into the kitchen, but the look Paula gave her caused her to pivot and exit without saying a word. Nobody else came near the kitchen so I assume Maggie went back to tell them to give us space.
“I’m sorry if this was wrong. But I don’t understand. I love you. I thought you loved me. We talked about all this. You even let me tell the group that we were in love,” I said sadly.
“I do love you,” Paula said emphatically. “But loving you and marrying you are two different things to me. That’s why you’re going to have to make me marry you. I figured you were getting close to wanting to marry, but we always talk about things. I thought we would talk about this before you went and made a grand gesture.”
“If we love each other, what’s to talk about Paula, I still don’t understand,” I said.
“You know what happened to my previous husband and my kids,” she said.
“Yea, are you still in love with him? With his memory?” I asked.
“Oh, you are an idiot!” She replied. “I will always love him but that’s not why I won’t marry you.
“What then?” I asked, starting to get frustrated.
“I killed him, I killed my kids!” she said simply.
I had no idea what to say to this, so I just stayed silent. After a minute of silence, Paula continued, “Our marriage had evolved over time to where I was his 24/7 dom. Oh, we kept the sexual stuff in the bedroom and our kids only saw a normal married couple, but I was in control. Totally.”
“Yea,” I interjected, “and I’m sure he was in heaven!”
“It was totally consensual,” she spat back quickly.
“But Paula, you know that’s not my thing,” I continued, “I’m dominant and I know you are too. I know you also like to switch it up occasionally. After all, I’ve tied you up and almost choked you unconscious a couple of times! But I’m OK with both of us being dominant. That’s not a problem for me, I don’t need to dominate you.”
“You’re not getting it,” Paula tried to explain. “He always deferred to me, and I was always in control. We had been to a play party the night before the accident. We got in late, and we were both tired that morning. I slept in late. Normally I took the kids to school as it was on my way, but that morning I ordered him to take them even though I knew it would make him late to work. I also knew he was as tired as I was, but I just wanted to sleep.”
“OK,” I said, still not getting it.”
“He was tired, he was driving too fast, he had an accident, they all died,” she said, “I killed my family.”
We were silent for a long time. I had heard part of this story on the beach months ago, but I didn’t realize that Paula blamed herself.
“I’m NEVER going to be in a marriage where I’m in charge again. You must prove to me that I will never be able to control you, never be in charge. I’ll never be in that position again. Now, I’m going to bed, and that is NOT an invitation.” And she walked out.
I had given up my apartment in the city a long time ago, and besides, this was my house. So, I took that last comment not that I shouldn’t sleep in my/our bed but that she wasn’t inviting me to have sex, not that I was in the mood now!
I wandered back into the living room in somewhat of a daze to find the entire group talking quietly. The group suddenly shut up as I entered, and an uncomfortable silence ensued.
After a minute someone said, “that was unexpected.”
“She’ll come around,” someone else said.
And so, the comments went on until I raised my hand. “Not helping guys.”
“What are you going to do Heath?” Maggie asked.
“Well,” I said, “I guess I’m going to ‘make her.’”
I went to bed and the next day Paula acted like nothing had happened. And the day after that she acted like nothing had happened. And the day after that, and so on.
But I was making plans.
First, I went to see Dr. Ana. I didn’t really want to do a takedown. Paula was just strong enough and slightly younger than me so I figured to do a takedown I would need help. And she said I had to ‘make her’ not WE had to make her. I wanted some mild sleeping pills that I could put in something, and I wanted reliable help with dosage. Of course, Ana had heard the whole story by the time I approached her and she was supportive but she wrote the prescription under my name.
Next, I talked to Mal.
“Mal, I need to ‘borrow’ your one pole prison, and I need you to make a modification to it and mount it in the backyard. I don’t want Paula to think this is ‘my’ project.”
“Sure,” Mal said, “What do you need?”
“I want to drive a mounting tube deep enough into the ground right between those two oak trees in the back. Then I want you to make a new ‘“attachment’ for the top.” I explained. “I want a metal inverted V, probably angle iron.”
“Ahh,” Mal sighed, “an iron horse?”
“Yep,” I said.
“Understood. You know that’s going to be brutal, right?” He asked rhetorically.
“I hope so.” I replied. “But perhaps you could grind the top to smooth it a bit, I don’t want to actually cut her in two.
“OK, shouldn’t take more than a few hours. I think I can get everything ready in the shop, then drive the mounting tube into the ground and test things the next time Paula goes into town grocery shopping. That way she won’t question what I’m doing.” Mal said. “When do you want to do this?”
“Just let me know when it’s ready,” I said.
Mal let me know that everything was ready about three days later.
The last week since Paula issued her ‘challenge’ had been somewhat surreal. Paula and, for that matter the whole group, was acting as if nothing unusual had happened. But Paula must have known I wouldn’t let things lie. At least I hoped she expected and wanted me to ‘make her.’
The big question was what I would mix the crushed sleeping pills in. I finally settled on Massaman Curry which Paula always ordered on those rare occasions when we ordered in from the Indian place downtown. It was an ideal choice because it had a strong enough flavor to mask the pills, and Paula was the only one in the group who liked it.
Sometimes we would order in on the slut’s demerit trial night. So, on the following Friday, I suggested Indian, and I made sure I met the delivery driver at the front door, opened Paula’s order and sprinkled away before taking everything to the dining room. I had also made sure that Ana was coming to the trial dinner with Carl. I was pretty comfortable with the dose of sleeping pills she had given me but having her present to watch things wouldn’t hurt.
The slut was hanging upside down from the arch between the living room and the dining room. The guys had moved the dining room table under the arch, as the arch was easily wide enough to accommodate the table and chairs. They, I’m not sure who, had hung Heather from her knees and hoisted her up so her head was a few inches above the table. I guess one of the girls had tied her hair back, so it stayed out of the way. As soon as I announced the food had arrived, everyone gathered around the table.
As I started unpacking and handing out packages of Indian food, I noticed that Heather’s rather prominent nipples had string nooses around them. Each nipple noose was attached to strings that were, for the moment, just hanging on the table. The slut had her eyes closed and seemed to be meditating upside down.
“How do you want to proceed Carl?” I asked.
“I hate cold Indian food,” Carl replied, “let’s eat first and discuss demerits second.”
Once Carl started eating, he picked up one of the strings that ran near his plate and pulled. This had the effect of pulling the slut’s nipple, and the slut with it, towards Carl. She grimaced but didn’t complain as usual. That’s when I noticed that the rig Heather’s knees were hanging from including a pivot point so she could be spun around to face whoever was pulling a string.
Carl spun her towards him, pulled enough to stop her motion then fed her a spoon full of Indian food. Heather was quickly learning that it was damn hard to eat and swallow upside down.
Other members of the group got the idea and discovered strings that had been intentionally left near their plates. Over the course of the meal, the slut was spun this way and that and fed all types of Indian food. Two or three times “mother” Paula, who was near the middle of the table, rose, helped the slut bend at the waist and then helped her drink some water.
After the meal was over, I looked down the table at Paula as she yawned. Good.
“OK, let’s convene this week’s Demerit Trial.” Carl announced as he opened his iPad with a flourish.
“And the app says, drum roll please... ZERO demerits.”
There was actually a groan of disappointment around the table. And I could have sworn I heard the slut groan “aww.” This happened several times per quarter. Heather was a good girl and didn’t TRY to get demerits just so she could get punished. And Carl, knowing the slut looked forward to these Friday nights, usually tried to ‘reward’ her anyway. That, I’m sure, was the impetus for the unusual way the slut was fed dinner.
“However,” Carl continued, “I think we need to congratulate our slut for her excellent accomplishment. I was thinking of a tickle party! But then I considered if we really wanted mixed Indian food spewed across the table,” which got a laugh out of everyone, including the slut. “So, I decided instead on a maintenance spanking. Each person present can congratulate the slut with 10 open hand spanks to either an ass cheek or the side of a breast. Line up and take turns.”
By the time Carl had finished his speech, Paula had her face in her arms on the table. Several people looked surprised and Reese, who was sitting on one side of Paula, started to reach for her, I guess to shake her. Ana, who was sitting on Paula’s other side, shook her head at Reese who shrugged and left her alone.
The slut seemed to genuinely enjoy her spankings. She enjoyed them so much that I felt guilty that she would miss Paula’s 10, so I roundly slapped her breast 20 times, alternating between inside, outside, and left and right.
“Half of those were from Paula slut,” I explained.
“Thank you, sir, but is Paula ok?” the slut asked.
“Is she out?” I asked Ana. When Ana nodded, I addressed the group, “I know you all remember ‘make me.’”
“OHHHH,” Reese interrupted, “Now I understand. It’s game on!”
“That’s one way to put it,” I replied. “Look, we’ve always had the understanding that anyone could stop any activity at the Chateau that they felt was inappropriate, out of control or abusive. In the past this has mostly applied to Heather, but I suspect that the next few days are going to get brutal. If someone tells me to stop, I will, but you all heard Paula.”
“Heath,” Carl cut in, “As you might imagine, we’ve all been talking this week. Maggie pretty much filled us in on what’s going on in her head.” To this Maggie nodded. “I think I speak for the group when I say, give her hell mate. Make her marry you.”
“OK, well, I need to get started,” I said.
“How can we help?” Lucija asked.
“This is between Paula and I," I replied.
“True, but if you try to get her to the backyard alone you might drop her. We must look out for her safety," Mal said.
“Ladies,” Ana said, “Let’s get her clothes off, we wouldn’t want this pretty sundress to get ruined.”
And before I could object, the soundly sleeping Paula was naked and being carried to the back yard.
Mal and Carl deposit Paula’s limp body beside where Mal had mounted his modified ‘one bar prison.’ It was now more of a ‘one bar iron horse.’
“Thanks everyone, but I really need to do this alone. I’ve planned and set this up where I can handle her," I said, and taking the hint, everyone drifted back towards the house.
I had attached pulleys to the oak trees on either side of where the iron horse was mounted and run ropes through each. But mounting those pulleys, which weren’t easily visible from the house was the only preparation I dared do in advance lest Paula spot what I was doing.
Now, I attached really good quality, leather, suspension wrists cuffs to each rope and fit them to Paula’s wrists. The other end of each rope was just hanging beside its tree. I left Paula lying on the ground and drove my land rover from the front of the Chateau to behind the two oak trees. Extending the cable on the front mounted winch I tied each rope to the hook and retracted the cable, removing the slack from the cable and the ropes.
I gathered the other supplies I would need: a lawn chair, my ear pods, a cooler with water bottles, a single tail whip, a flogger, a battery powered Hitachi, clothes pins, some rope, and two iron stakes which I drove into the ground on either side of the iron horse about 3 feet out. Then I grabbed the remote control from the front mounted winch, sat down in my lawn chair, put on my classic rock playlist – and waited.
Dr. Ana had told me the sleeping pills would wear off in about 4 hours. It was a good thing that I set an alarm on my phone because I fell asleep in the chair. It was, after all, almost midnight. The alarm woke me and I also noticed Paula stir a bit. About half an hour later she opened her eyes.
“Whut?” she mumbled.
I pressed ‘retract’ on the remote and the winch started up. It wasn’t loud but the combination of an unexpected sound and her wrists being pulled steadily up woke Paula up with a start.
“What the hell? What? Where? Heath! You bastard!” She shouted as she looked around trying to get her bearings in the dark.
Quickly the winch had raised her arms and was starting to lift her torso off the ground. She scrambled to get her legs under her, but as soon as she did the winch lifted her completely off the ground. Her ass hit the iron horse as she started to swing free.
Paula continued to swear, but there was a bit less irritation and a lot more fear in her voice now. It was also harder for her to swear hanging from her wrists.
“Bloody hell, owww, crap, this hurts, dammit. What the hell are you doing!”
I didn’t say a word. After she was swinging free and I was sure her crotch was above the horse, I stopped the winch. Taking the two hanks of rope, I grabbed her left ankle, put a loop around it, pulled it out and tied it to one of the stakes using a bowline. Paula was too disoriented to fight me on the first ankle but when I went for the second one, she had the idea and tried to kick me in the face. I was expecting a fight and had the second ankle tied off in no time.
Paula’s naked cunt was now about six inches above the apex of the Iron Horse and her legs were pulled apart at a 45-degree angle. She was hanging from her wrists and was working to reach and hold on to the two wood dowels in the suspension cuffs.
Because Paula was about six inches shorter than me, and because of the way her legs were spread, her face was about even with mine when I stood in front of her. I stood with our noses about six inches apart and stared into her eyes. I kept a perfect poker face, no anger, no lust, no fear, just nothing.
In spite of the difficulties breathing when hanging from your wrists, Paula started a monologue. I just kept quiet and stared into her eyes.
“Is this your idea of making me marry you? You think this is going to work? You must be crazy! This doesn’t even hurt. It’s barely uncomfortable. And what’s that thing (looking down), did Mal help you with that, I’ll kill the bastard! Let me down right now Heath! This isn’t going to work and you’re never going to get laid again!” And so on and so on for about 15 minutes until she ran out of steam and her diaphragm was getting so tired she just stopped talking. I never said a word, broke eye contact or changed expressions.
When she wound down, I sat down, put my earbuds in, and started playing solitaire on my phone. Paula’s breathing was becoming more and more labored. She would wiggle around occasionally, trying to transfer stress from one arm to the other but she was wearing thin. After about 30 minutes of hanging there, she finally said “Heath, please, I can’t breathe.”
I took my earbuds out and replied “Well, you could ask me, nicely of course, to lower you onto that seat I had prepared for you.”
“Please Heath, just let me down, this isn’t going to work,” she said, without much conviction.
I put my earbuds back in.
It only took another minute before she said, with tears, “please let me down on the ‘seat’.”
“Of course, darling. Anything to make you more comfortable,” I replied without a note of sarcasm.
I took my earbuds out yet again, took my time putting them into the charging case, then picked up the remote. Paula was watching my every move. I lowered her until her cunt was firmly on the iron and her arms had just a little slack. Then I tightened each of the ropes on her ankles to pull her legs tight.
“You don’t need to do that; I can’t go anywhere!” she said with a resigned tone.
Again, I stood right in front of her face and looked into her eyes. I must have stood there for 30 minutes without moving, without speaking, just looking into her eyes.
At first, I read relief in her eyes as the pain in her wrists and shoulders was relieved and she could breathe again without the restrictions on her diaphragm.
But as the pain between her legs built up, I could see a progression of emotions in her eyes.
First came the surprise at how much it hurt.
Then was fear at the realization that the pain was still building and she had no idea how bad it would get.
Then there was despair as she tried to relieve the pain by pulling herself up with her arms and realizing they were already exhausted and could give her only seconds of relief each time she pulled up.
When I could read in her eyes that she fully understood just how fucked she was, I sat back down, put in my earbuds and relaxed.
About an hour after she had awakened, and about 30 minutes since I had lowered her onto the Iron Horse, I heard her crying. I took out my earbuds and stood. I’m quite sure, in that minute, she thought, ‘he’s going to take me down!”
I didn’t.
I picked up the flogger, walked around behind her and started rhythmically flogging her back and what parts of her ass I could reach without hitting the horse. Her quiet crying became full blown sobbing.
I moved around to the front and flogged her sides, her breast, her stomach. I turned her whole torso cherry red. Occasionally during the flogging, she would mumble “Please” or “No more,” or just “no.”
I stopped and looked at my watch in the dim light of the backyard. It was 1:30 am.
I moved around in front of her face and again just looked into her eyes, but this time I smiled. Not a sadistic smile, but a genuine smile of love and care.
But I said nothing.
After she calmed down to a slow sobbing and looked back at me for a while, I sat down.
Paula had been doing a little dance on the horse for most of her time astride it. She would shift right, shift left, try to pull up with her arms, kick her legs almost like she was trying to find something to stand on. After the flogging, I noticed she was moving less and less.
Paula was one tough bitch! I’ve never played with a real masochist, but I’ve watched play sessions in clubs and private homes. I’ve seen some submissive masochists that could take pain. Paula had already endured much more than I was expecting. If I hadn’t loved her so very much, I would have given up. Instead, I picked up a single tail.
Paula had closed her eyes, stopped moving and one just one human lump of suffering strung up on the horse. I slapped her face. She sucked in a breath and looked at me in shock. Of all the things I’d done to her so far, the slap was by far the most personal.
“Do you understand how much love it takes to hurt someone this badly?” I asked.
“If you agree to marry me, we will be partners. We will discuss everything. But I promise you that I will ALWAYS, ALWAYS have the final say, and you will NEVER take that from me.
When you understand that, understand it deep in your heart, then beg me to marry you.”
I then stepped back and started using the single tail on her breast and stomach. I was tired. It had been a long day and night. I wasn’t accurate, but I was brutal. The tip drew blood. And I just kept going, moving down to her stomach, across her thighs, around to her shoulders, back, even her upper arms.
She was sobbing so much I almost didn’t discern the difference when she said “Please, please, oh god, please marry me!”
In a calm but firm voice I replied: “I’m sorry Paula, but I love you too much to stop now. I need to know you’re not just trying to avoid the pain. I’m going to keep going until I’m sure, sure that you’ll never try to control me.”
And I resumed the whipping.
I don’t know where she found the energy but I’m sure everyone sleeping in the Chateau was awakened by her screaming!
“Damn it I’ll marry you, I want to marry you, please Heath, marry me! Please, I love you!”
I stopped the whip and said simply. “Yes Paula, I’ll marry you.”
And I took her down and carried my fiancé to bed where I fucked her savagely in spite of her bleeding all over the sheets.