Jessica punishment - The Phantom of the Roxy bondage story - 49

The next day Jessica found that she couldn’t talk to her friends without blushing. She was incapacitatingly self- conscious in their presence, and found herself avoiding them whenever she could. She was riddled with guilt and shame, and just seeing them brought those emotions rushing to the surface.

She should have known it would be like this. In last night’s afterglow it had all seemed so perfect, but now she was back to normal. She tried to placate her misgivings by reminding herself that she’d had no choice, that they’d forced themselves on her just like the Whisperer had done. But that didn’t help. She had enjoyed her rape far too much. She had wallowed in pleasure and wonton desire, and David, Sarah and Tina had all seen her do it. She had utterly disgraced herself, revealed her most shameful secret, and now she couldn’t look her friends in the eye.

All three of them noticed, and each spoke to her privately during the day, worried that she was having regrets, that she might resent what they’d done. She assured them that everything was fne, that what they’d done last night was all right, but she couldn’t bring herself to explain.

They simply couldn’t understand how it was for her. Outwardly Jessica seemed very open and progressive. She dressed like a girl who knew how sexy she was and was comfortable with it, she walked and moved with graceful sensuality. She seemed well-adjusted if a little shy, and only occasionally revealed a hint of old-fashioned values.

Jessica had come a long way from her small-town Christian upbringing, but at her core she was still a slave to it. She had outgrown her parents’ beliefs years ago, and had sought the city to expand her realm of experience. She was smart enough to know who she wanted to be, and strong enough to have taken major strides toward becoming that person. But for all her progress, she could not overcome the legacy of guilt and shame that tainted her life.

She was miserable. She couldn’t bear the idea of losing her friends, yet she felt herself becoming more distant from them. That evening she went out to dinner with them as usual, but she was withdrawn and spoke little. They tried to get her to tell them how she felt, but she simply couldn’t do it. Finally they decided to give her her space, but agreed not to exclude her. It was beyond awkward, and she could see that they were hurt and mystifed, but she didn’t know what to do about it. They returned early and went to bed.

That night as she lay in bed, tortured by her emo- tions, she again heard the Whisperer’s voice. “Jessicaaaa…”

As before, it sounded as though he were there in the room with her, and she cowered under the blanket even though she knew he only spoke through the air vent under the bed.

“Jessica,” he whispered, “it is time. Rise from your bed and come to me.”

Her heart pounding, she peered out from beneath her covers. Fear flled her. She didn’t want to go to him, but every time she had refused he had come for her anyway, and punished her for disobeying. But this time, she told herself, she was safe. Her door was locked, and her friends were just down the hall. He was only calling her through the air vent, trying to get her to return to the theater.

“Come to me, Jessica,” he demanded.

“No!” she cried, fnding enough courage to defy him that much.

Something moved in the shadows on the far side of her room. Icy fear washed over her. Was it her imagination? How could he be here, in her room? She stared, eyes wide open in terror. Then, suddenly, a dark fgure rushed toward her. As it crossed the swath of diffuse light that poured in through her window, it was revealed to be the Whisperer himself, shrouded in a billowing black cloak, his mad, dark eyes burning with rage and lust.

Jessica gasped, frozen in terror, and then he was upon her before she could scream. His hand clamped over her nose and mouth, his body pinning hers beneath it. She stared piteously up into his eyes, shaking like a mouse in the claws of a cat.

“Once again you have refused me,” he whispered. “You shall be punished.”

When Jessica tried to breathe, she smelled an in- tense odor, like alcohol or acetone. It made her dizzy, and abruptly she realized what it must be. Ether! He was hold-ing an ether-soaked rag over her face! She tried to hold her breath, but he simply waited for her to breathe. She tried to struggle, but she was pinned under her covers and couldn’t move. She whimpered desperately through the rag, but could barely make a sound. Finally she couldn’t hold her breath any more, and gasped, breathing in a great lungful of the stuff. The Whisperer’s eyes seemed to recede from her, becoming fuzzy…

Jessica woke abruptly. It felt as though she’d only been unconscious for a second or two, like waking up af- ter she’d dozed off in class. But when she tried to sit up, she found that she was no longer in her room, but had once more been spirited away to some secret chamber in the bowels of the theater. She was naked, lying on her back, her arms bound above her head. A wad of cloth flled her mouth, and tape sealed her lips. She lay on a narrow lightly-padded platform rather than a bed, its surface draped with a rough, heavy fabric. A bright overhead light blinded her, casting the rest of the room in darkness. When she began to squirm, she found that her ankles were wrapped in leather cuffs, but the cuffs weren’t attached to anything.

She also discovered something else; there was a thick, solid object flling her rectum, her anus stretched around its base. She blushed with shame as she realized that the Whisperer had already violated her bottom hole while she was unconscious, and left an object there, inside her. It wasn’t painful, but it was intrusive enough that she was made aware of its presence with every movement.

The Whisperer loomed out of the shadows beside her, his lower face swathed in a tight wrapping of white fabric, a loose, blousy white shirt drawn open to his belt buckle revealing a deep “V” of his muscular torso. His eyes burned with fury and lust.

“Once again you have refused me, Jessica,” he hissed. “This time your punishment shall be more terrible than ever before. You will regret your decision to defy your master!” Jessica whimpered in fear and tried to roll her lower body away from him, but he casually grasped her naked hip in his powerful gloved hand and rolled her back again. His fngers effortlessly slipped between her slim thighs to cup her smooth, warm pussy, and she gasped at the intimacy of the contact. Her knees came up, pressing tightly together, but it was too late to try to dislodge him. She yelped and shuddered as his middle fnger slipped up inside her passage, a practical demonstration of just how helpless she was. Then he withdrew and, chuckling to himself, he stepped away from the table for a moment. When he returned he held a whip in his hand, a heavy, tapering lash about two feet long, with a split thong at the end. It was a frightening instrument, and when she saw it her eyes widened and stared, mesmerized with terror. There were apparently a couple of steps along- side the table on which she lay, for he suddenly rushed up onto the table to stand by her feet, looking down upon her, whip at the ready. Jessica cowered before him.

Using his free hand to hold, then release the business end of the whip, he let the cruel leather thong snap down, striking the underside of her right breast with a resounding crack. She shrieked into her gag as the hot sting blazed through her. Her breast rippled and bounced under the sharp impact.

Again using his free hand to aim and release the whip, he lashed at her left breast, wringing another muffed cry from her. He immediately returned to her right breast, cracking the harsh leather against its soft contours, then struck again at her left, barely giving her time to draw a breath between her agonized cries. Her full, soft, heavy breasts rolled, bounced and jiggled beneath the continuous on-slaught of the whipping. He kept it up, every blow hard and vicious, without a thought to building the intensity up gradu- ally as he had before. This was his punishment for a disobedient slave, and he intended it to hurt.

She was crying in less than a minute. The heavy whip lashed her breasts to and fro, covering the milky fesh with bright pink splotches. Jessica thrashed and kicked, giving vent to her pain however she could, but nothing could stop the terrible lash as it fell again and again and yet again.

“Spread your legs,” the Whisperer commanded suddenly, the whip poised, the aim lowered. He was pointing it directly at her naked crotch!