Archive-name: Bondage/agreemt.txt
Archive-author: 
Archive-title: Agreement, The


[Fade in.]
[Curtains open on Gregory, sitting on his trademark stool, on an
otherwise blank stage.]

Yes, it's me again... gosh, it's been... well, too damn long since
I've been out here... but there's a reason for that. I just found out
that my funding from the NEA is being cut... apparently, someone from
the Jessie Helms camp snuck in here for the performance of Dragonlove
that I did some months ago, and I'm just finding out about it now. So
I've been out pounding the pavement, looking for a way to beat the
system... and yes, I have already thought of using a flogger, thank
you very much. [Gregory smiles]

Anyhow, I've also been keeping busy working on some more of my
writing... whereas Dragonlove was pretty much entirely fantasy (I
based it on a headspace that I put someone in once...), this story is
only half-fantasy... ok, well, the story as such is not real, but it
*can* be...

So, without much further ado... enjoy!

[Gregory rises, and walks off stage right.]
[Curtains close]
[Fade to story]


.
The party crowd is getting a little stifling, so I step out onto the
patio for a breath of fresh air. I look at my pocket watch, musing for
a moment how much it reminds me of the one that Jack the Ripper
carried in that movie... and I note that it is getting close to the
time we had arranged.

I slip back inside, and weave my way through the crowd into the
playroom, where I find an open stretch of wall. I lean up against it,
setting my toybag down beside me. I open it, and remove one of my
lighter floggers. I close my eyes, examining the handle of the cat by
touch only, while the pair in the scenespace close their scene with
what sounds like a two-by-four. *THUD* *THUD* *THUD*, and the bottom
grunting, then yelling, then screaming an almost unintelliglble
safeword. I open my eyes to see the bottom taken down from the frame
and wrapped in blankets, then moved to a space on a couch.

Somewhere in the house, a grandfather clock strikes the hour. The time
has come. 

You enter the room, nodding a silent greeting to a small group of
acquaintences by the doorway, then approach me. You stand before me
for a moment, then kneel, resting your head on my thigh. I use the
handle of my flogger to lift your chin, raising your eyes to meet
mine.

A raised eyebrow.		A nod.
A smile.			A shiver.

You take my offered hand, and I help you stand. Hand in hand, we
approach the frame, and I lean you forward to rest your body against
it. I raise your hands, and slip them into the cuffs that were left
attached to the frame. I run my fingers down your arm, then across the
bodice of your dress, feeling you tremble as you wait for something...
anything... more visceral to occur.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see me reach into my pocket and
pull out a flash of silver. As you close your eyes, you feel a sharp
point pressing into the side of your leg... then the sound of material
tearing. You look down to see the side seam of your skirt split about
six inches up from the hem... and me holding a seam ripper. You watch
over your shoulder as I tear out the seams holding the back panel of
the dress, and toss the material aside, leaving your ass and thighs
nicely framed by the remaining material.

I step back to admire the tableau, then I remember the flogger that I
was carrying. You watch as I pick it up, giving the air around you a
few strokes to warm up, then I step behind you, out of your line of
sight. Then silence...

And more silence... one minute... two... five...

*SMACK* You feel my hand across your ass, and you jump in surprise.
*SMACK* again, and this time a quiet squeal escapes your lips.
*SMACK* a third time my hand falls, and this time you tense your ass
muscles in anticipation, before my hand lands.

*swishCRACK* Half a dozen lines of fire slash their way across your
ass, *swishCRACK* across your thighs, *swishCRACK* and criss-crossing
your ass again. The third stroke managed to elicit the scream I was
looking for, so I stop there, and tuck my "emergency" whip into my
back pocket again.

"That was for anticipating too much. Next time it will be 10."

You shudder, then look over your shoulder to meet my eyes with yours.
I flash a Roger Moore smile at you, then just as quickly, I drop my
smile, and my gaze hardens. I take out the seam ripper again, and
start removing the panel covering your back. This time, I am a bit
less concerned with being careful, and several times, you feel the
point of the ripper scratching angry red lines along your sides and
shoulders.

Eventually, your back is bared along with your ass. I am inwardly
pleased to note that you took my advice, and decided against wearing a
bra. I run my fingers across your shoulderblades, enjoying the feel of
you twitching like my hands were charged with electricity. 

I pick up the flogger I was playing with originally, and slide the
tails up over your ass cheeks, then up your spine. I receive a shiver
and a moan in response, so naturally, I assume that I have chosen the
proper instrument to use...

I start lazily swinging the tails at your ass, pretty much letting
gravity do most of the work for now... after a dozen or so swings, I
quickly snap the tails at your ass like a beach towel, hearing the
CRACK of the leather on your skin, then your squeal as the sting
travels from your ass to your brain to your mouth. 

I switch to a slightly heaver whip... one with more thud to it. Then I
unleash it on your naked back. The first few blows don't elicit much
of a response, then I aim a strong stroke downward along your spine...
before it lands, my consciousness begins walking the line between
lifespace and headspace...

[The stroke seems to fall in slow motion as my arm sweeps downward,
the tails flying comet-like off the end of the flogger's handle. As
leather makes contact with flesh, I can hear each tail land, then
watch the skin tinge with red, one millimeter at a time, until a
seven-inch strip of warm, pink skin forms...]

I'm yanked back into real-time by your rather loud confirmation that I
indeed hit you with the flogger: an interesting combination of grunt
and yell. I like it so much that I strike you again in the same
fashion, but to one side of the first blow. Then the other. Then up
higher on your shoulder. Then across your ass. Then down the sides of
your thighs. Then under your armpits. Then down your spine again to
complete the circle... each blow giving me a satisfying grunt/yell,
and some squirming, which makes it easier to hit a larger number of
targets.

I take a moment to approach you, and run my fingers across your pink
zebra flesh. I half-jokingly ask you if you're ready to begin now, and
somewhere, outside the sphere, I hear someone laugh. You don't answer
me, so I grab a handful of your hair and turn your head to make sure
that you are still in *some* plane of being, if not mine... your eyes
are closed, but as I tighten my grip on your hair, they open. Again, I
ask you, in a whisper, if you are ready to begin. You mouth a "yes",
then close your eyes again...

I release you, then search in my toybag for the one impliment that
you've not met yet... in fact, you will be the first to feel it. I
shake the tails out, and drape them over your shoulder. You turn your
head to feel the leather caressing your cheek, and I chuckle inwardly
when you jerk your head away from what you find sliding over your
skin: leather and knotted cords combined. I pull the flogger away, and
swing it hard through the air, listening to the tails whistling. 

You start squealing... "Please pleasepleaseplease *stop*!"

I am a little surprised to hear this, especially since I had not yet
landed a blow with the flogger... still, you must have a reason for
being so vocal all of a sudden.

"Yes? What is the problem?"

"I... I can't do it. I'm not ready yet... please don't... please, it's
going to hurt... I'll do anything, just don't..."

"But you said that this is what you wanted. You told me that you
wanted me to hurt you... that you *needed* for me to hurt you.
Catharsis and all that... remember that conversation?" I crack the
whip against my leg for emphasis. 

"Yes. I remember it and I still want it and I want you to hurt me but
I'm scared I'm scared I'm scared..." Your voice keeps ramping up in
pitch, and I'm afraid that soon it will be out of my range of hearing,
so I cover your mouth with my hand to stop you.

"You don't have anything to be afraid of. If you safeword, I'll stop.
If you pass out, I'll stop."

You shake your head, so I assume you want to speak, and pull my hand
away. "I'm not safewording... I'm just telling you..."

"You're not safewording? So, this is until you pass out... hmmmmm...
maybe I should call someone over to let me know when that happens..."

You shake your head violently, then close your eyes and try to calm
yourself down. "I didn't mean that. I'm not safewording *now*... not
yet..."

"Ahh... my mistake then. I apologize."

You remain quiet for a minute, then open your eyes again and look into
mine. "Ok... I'm ready now, I think... but..."

"Yes... but?"

"Um... kiss me? Please? Before you start again?" I could swear I see a
tear in your eye...

Softly, I stroke the side of your face with the back of my hand,
smiling. "Of course I will, my dear..."

You shiver at my touch, but manage a smile. "Thank you."

I mouth a "you're welcome", then lean forward to kiss your forehead,
then your lips. You make no effort to either increase or decrease the
intensity of the kiss, so I simply let you feel my lips on yours for a
moment. Then I kiss your earlobe, and whisper into your ear... "I love
you. Remember that..."

You shiver again, and nod a little, before turning your head away.

Obviously, the discussion is over. I step back to my position behind
you, and raise the flogger over my head... 

"It is done."

My arm arcs downward, and the leather and cord brand new trails of
fire across your back, turning the already-pink skin a little closer
to purple. I am almost too busy admiring the color changes to realize
that you screamed... I quickly replay the sound in my mind, but
safeword wasn't anywhere in it... so I continue.

I aim the next shot at your ass, whipping the tails over my head
before striking at you. You squeal before the blow lands, and I watch
you tense your ass cheeks up again before they are marked by the
lashes. The side of your right buttock starts to show the first signs
of a lovely bruise, but instead of continuing to use this new toy, I
remind myself of my earlier warning to you.

I switch the flogger to my other hand, and take the small whip out of
my pocket again. "You were anticipating again. What did I tell you
about that?"

You mumble something that I can't quite hear, so I lash your ass with
the small whip. "What did you say?"

"Um... 10 with the small whip?"

"Correct. Don't bother counting them, it will only take longer..."

I administer the strokes, each one causing you to squirm a bit more,
and whimper a little louder... until the last: I swing the cat upward
between your legs, catching the tails on the lips of your sex. As you
shriek and rise up on your tiptoes, I drop the small whip, and use the
leather and cord monster to give you a strong two-handed strike down
your back, then across your ass again, before you can catch your
breath.

I wait a moment, until you manage to gasp a breath, then the tails
lash out again, catching you across your thighs. Again you scream, and
again it is not safeword, so I start criss-crossing your upper back.
Each stroke causes you to press against the frame, trying to pass
through the frame to get it between yourself and my toy. I pause, then
start whipping up the backs of your thighs and the bottom curve of
your ass. Again you rise on your toes, not screaming now... just
sobbing and whimpering. 

I alternately stop and start this whipping, letting you relax a moment
before I drive you up on your toes again. Occasionally, I let the
tails fall on your back, causing even more purple-and-red speckling to
counterpoint the mottling on your ass.

Somewhere in the house, a grandfather clock strikes the hour. The time
has passed.

I pause a moment, letting my arm recover for the final stroke. You are
slumped on the frame now, panting, mewling, shaking. I shake my
muscles out, and give a couple lazy wind-up strokes that just brush
the insides of your thighs, before I snap the flogger up, sending the
tails between your legs to assault your pubes. As you gasp and prepare
to scream, I finish the stroke by yanking backwards on the handle,
pulling the leather and knotted cords across your cuntlips...

Somewhere, in the back of my head, I am reminded of a line from Steve
Martin's short story, "Cruel Shoes"... 

The screams were incredible.

As were the sobs, and the whimpers, and the shaking, and the gasping,
and the panting, and everything else that you do as you come back down
from that last stroke. Finally, you manage between shivering attacks
to say "Mercy."

The flogger drops from my hand, and I come up behind you. I unhook the
cuffs, and let you slump against me a moment, before I sweep your legs
up and cradle your still-shaking body in my arms. I carry you to the
couch, and gently lay you down on it, before kneeling by your side.
Someone... one of the hosts, I think... hands me two glasses of ice
water. I down one in one swallow, then fish an ice cube out to let
melt against your lips. You suck on the cube, then motion dazedly for
a drink from the other glass, which I give you.

Once you finish drinking your fill, you close your eyes and take my
hand, pulling it to your mouth to kiss my palm. I mimic your action,
then hold your hand tightly in mine. I close my eyes, rest my head on
your shoulder, and let the rest of the world fade away...
=====
"One little piece of my soul
 One little piece of my whole life
 I give to you
 Take it now..."

--