Blind Leading the Blind Ch. 06

Chapter Six

Submission

It was a week before either George or Charlene was able to give the last of the eight fantasies more than a passing thought. George had just won a new contracting job and was knee deep in the process of getting the necessary permits and hiring the right sub-contractors. The crisis pregnancy center had received its seemingly annual request for detailed donation documentation for some of their supporters, a consequence of audit season. Putting everything together kept Charlene (among others) busy five days that week. On top of that, third grade reading assessment had started and the need for volunteers was high there too.

The couple, weary from their responsibilities each day, made time for each other instead of trying to work through anything else, let alone something as emotional as one of them whipping the other. Their dinners seemed to take longer than normal as George needed to release the frustrations he had every time he was forced to deal with the city bureaucracy. It didn't help his nerves any that he also had to deal with state level flunkies (a state grant was paying for part of the work). It was Saturday before he was able to open Wiseman's book. With Charlene putting in another afternoon at the clinic, he opened the book and perused its contents.

Considering what the subject matter was, it was a very practical book. He found that the section on bondage, for example, had suggestions for knots he had not used. While the bow line and taut line were good knots, they had potential problems with anything involving suspended positions. There were also some ties that spread the pressure from struggles or weight.

The section on whipping and spanking confirmed the saleslady's comment at Erotic Boutique. Their selection was not even half of what was available. He found the array of potential ways of inflicting 'erotic pain' a little overwhelming at first. Hell, he had trouble getting his mind wrapped around the idea of erotic pain. The fact that he and Charlene were planning just that did not make it easier to do so. However, the easy style of the book made it approachable.. He found that Janet and Betsy had been right. The bull whip, which belonged to a large class of whips called single tails, was one of the most dangerous, thanks to the ability of the end to break the sound barrier.

Multi-tailed whips, including the famous cat-o-nine-tails, were probably the most varied in their potential effects. Variations in the length, thickness, and material used to make the tails, drastically affected the pain and potential for injury (scourges, technically part of this group, were never used in 'play' since they has sharp metal embedded in them). Some cats could actually be less painful than an open hand spanking! Technique had its place as well. Overhand strikes produced more pain than a twirling motion that George had trouble visualizing.

Looking through other parts of the book was an eye opening experience. He had to smile at the concept of safe words. "Been there, done that," he thought to himself. He grimaced at tattoos and piercings, neither he nor Charlene having a liking for those increasingly popular forms of body art. Branding caused him to blanch. The only thing less conceivable to him than someone wanting to brand someone they cared for was the thought of someone allowing it to happen. He had read most of the book by the time Charlene had returned.

"Hi honey. What's that?" she asked, seeing the book.

"Uh, I picked this up last week. This Wiseman guy wrote a book on how to do things like tying people up and whipping them safely."

Charlene's mouth hung open. "There's an instruction manual for whipping people?"

"Yeah, I guess that's what this is. He seems to know what he's talking about."

"But, you don't write a manual for something only a few people do."

"I imagine not. I guess we're not as weird as we thought we were."

Charlene sat down on the sofa next to George and took the book, looking at it herself. "Hmm. Safe, sane, consensual. I was beginning to wonder about the sane part of what we are doing. So this sort of thing is not crazy? What does he say about whipping?"

"Apparently, our best option is some sort of cat-o-nine-tails." At her look of surprise, he hasted to explain. "They aren't all made the same way. Some are incredibly soft and won't cause serious injuries, even when swung hard. There are places we won't want to whip, like the face, but they can be safe, even gentle."

"Gentle? How can a whipping be gentle?"

"I'm not sure. It sounds like a combination of material and technique. Maybe it's like the difference between a spanking with clothes on or off. At this point, I'm willing to give it a try. If you are too?"

Charlene gulped and started to perspire. "George, I'm frightened."

He put his arm around her. "I know. If you don't want to, we won't. But you have been frightened before and have gotten through it, even enjoyed what scared you."

"I know. But this feels different somehow. It's like we're going to open a door that can't be closed. I think I'm afraid that I will like it."

"...and if you like it, you'll want to try it again."

"Yes. I don't think I will be the same person after this one."

"Dear, everything we do changes us in some way. Remember how frightened you were of accepting Christ? You knew it would change you in a fundamental way and weren't sure you would like the change."

"Yes, I remember. I was right too. It changed me, more than anything else ever did or could."

"Not accepting him changes people too. Remember Steve Miller? He changed too, after he rejected Christ. It was more subtle than your change when you said yes, but it was a change."

"Yes," she responded, the word coming out slowly as she pondered what he was getting at.

"Every decision changes us. The choice for us is not, do we change by acting this one out, but which change will we experience, the one that comes from yes, or the one that comes from no?"

"But I don't know what I'll be like after."

"No you don't. Not after either decision. What I do know is that I will still love you with all my heart, no matter what you choose. And the choice is yours to make. It's your body going under the whip, not mine."

"I need time. I can't choose right now."

"No problem. I understand that it's a hard decision to make. You take all the time you need. If you need to talk more, we can talk. When you're ready, you tell me what the decision is."

"Okay."

The weekend passed with no decision on her part. Charlene struggled with the whole idea. As she looked at the fantasy, it dawned on her that it wasn't exactly the pain she was frightened. It was the reasons that she was accumulating for saying yes. Part of her wanted to say yes simply because it was one of George's fantasies. It being HIS desire seemed to make it hers. She was beginning to see accepting the whipping as an expression of love towards George. Was that even possible?

Tuesday night, she had an idea. If there were so many people out there that did this that someone felt the need to write an instruction manual, maybe there were other sources of information out there as well. Charlene followed several conservative political blogs. She found herself wondering if there were blogs by people who let themselves be whipped or those who did the whipping. Wednesday, she called into the clinic, saying she would not be available that day.

Getting on the net, she started a search on google. The first thing she realized was that she would have to disable her blocking software. It seemed that Cyberpatrol considered sexual games as inappropriate. It took about 15 minutes to narrow the search down enough to get an assortment of blogs by 'submissives' and 'dominant' that she could look at. The first thing that struck her was the incredible variety. Hetero, gay, bi, multiple subs, multiple doms, part time, full time, varying levels of monogamy. The levels of activity involved seemed to be as numerous as the number of blogs.

Some were hard to take. There seemed to be no... relationship between some of the people involved. Some of it was very much like casual sex, only, it was casual dehumanization and objectification. Some, however, seemed to confirm that the feelings she as having were not unheard of. One, written by a young lady calling herself Cherry (Charlene smiled at that one), was very clear on the emotions that were involved when she 'submitted' to her dominant. Her 'Daddy" (that term bothered Charlene, making her think of pedophilia, even though that was clearly not happening here) clearly loved her and wanted what was best for her. Cherry trusted him enough that she accepted his actions and directives even when she did not understand them. Another, written by a wife that submitted to her husband, echoed her feelings exactly. That lady, who called herself pure-blue, submitted because she loved him deeply and felt that doing so was right for them.

What struck her was the sheer enormity of the blogs written by people in a 24/7 submission. They didn't play so much, as they lived this life. There were only a couple of blogs written by part timers, as she thought of them. Those blogs talked almost exclusively about the physical sensations involved in 'scenes.' When they did talk about their reasons, it ended up being about personal satisfaction. There was nothing wrong about that, it just did not speak to Charlene.

Charlene knew now what her decision would be. If she said no, she would always wonder what it would have been like. Yes, she was afraid of how she would react, what she would become once it had happened. She was more frightened, however, of not saying yes. While reading the blogs, she had become aware of an emptiness inside of herself; deep inside. She no longer wanted to do this, she needed to.

That night, she told George. "I want to do it, the whipping fantasy," she announced once dinner was done.

"Okay. I'll go buy the whip tomorrow. When?"

"Friday. I want time for any marks to fade before I have to go out into public again." Charlene had read about marks on the web.

"Do you want to come along with me when I buy the whip?"

"No," she said with a blush. "It would be too embarrassing."

"Okay."

The next day, George returned to the Erotic Boutique. Armed with knowledge, he selected a cat made with wide, soft leather strips about 18 inches long. It would not produce the lightest sensations, but would be almost impossible to injure Charlene with. He also picked up two pairs of fur lined, leather cuffs. He wanted to minimize the damage Charlene could do to herself when she struggled. He could not imagine someone being whipped not struggling against her bindings. The lady at the counter made no special mention of what he was buying. She only inquired as to whether the book had been helpful, to which he said it had been.

Charlene made her own preparations. Since the whipping was supposed to be done with her standing and bound, she figured they would need something to secure her to. She knew from their remodeling project two years ago that the master bath's door was between two studs. She screwed four of the eyebolts she had bought weeks ago into those studs. The upper ones were high enough that George could use his knots to determine how tightly she would be spread.

When she stretched out experimentally she shuddered. She imagined herself naked, unable to move, the whip striking her back. In her head, she could hear the crack of the whip and flinched. Her eyes teared up and her breath became quick.

"God, what am I doing? How can I want this? But I do. I want him to do this. I want to give George myself this much. Why doesn't this feel wrong?" she thought to herself.

That night both Charlene and George were introspective. It was one of those rare evenings when something unspoken stood between them like the proverbial elephant in the room. Both knew that tomorrow, George would take a whip to Charlene, yet they didn't seem to know how or what to say about it. It was as if there was nothing to say. The TV was never turned on that night. They simply sat together in one another's arms, alone with their thoughts. The package from Erotic Boutique lay on their dresser like a ticking timer, reminding them of what was to come. Both slept fitfully that night.

Friday, they both kept busy during the day. Charlene spent the entire school day helping with the reading assessments while George finalized the permits and other paperwork for the new project. She kept dinner light, making cream of tomato soup with grilled cheese sandwiches. Their dinner conversation covered all that they had done during the day, but felt curiously empty of significance. After dinner, while the dishes were being loaded, George broached the subject.

"Do you still want to do this one?"

Charlene nodded silently, not certain she could talk without crying.

"How about we start as soon as the dishes are running?"

Choking back a sob, she nodded. "Okay. If you'll finish this, I'll go get Cherry ready."

"Cherry? I thought I'd be whipping Charlene."

She shook her head. "I... I don't think I could do that. I know it's not the exact fantasy, but I need it to be Cherry."

George took a deep breath and tried to keep the disappointment from showing. "That's fine. Go on. Make sure she's wearing the cuffs in the bag." George knew that this would not be the same. Part of the fantasy was 'breaking' the will of a strong woman. Cherry was a slave and there would be no will to break. He refused to force her into something she did not want to do, though.

Charlene walked back to the bedroom and started the change from herself - Charlene to her Cherry persona. She stripped her clothes off while changing her thoughts to that of a slave with no choice but to obey. The fur lining of the cuffs was soft, a sensuous caressing of her flesh. Once they were on, there was an almost belittling effect on her. She felt more like a slave now than she had in past fantasies. Yet, it felt incomplete in some way. She could not place it, however. Ready, she knelt down at the end of the bed to await her Master.

George entered the bedroom to see her kneeling there, subservient. He had thought about how to set up having to whip Cherry into submission. It would take demanding something of her that she would refuse to do, then whipping her until she agreed to do it. He stood before her.

"Cherry, remember that if you defy me tonight, I will be forced to whip you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master. I understand."

"Suck my cock!"

"No, Master, please don't make me do that. Please Master."

"I warned you Cherry. Stand up."

Charlene stood and George led her to the bathroom doorway. He used lengths of rope to tie her spread eagle in the doorway. Her hands were stretched towards the ceiling and her legs to about three feet apart. When she pulled against them, there was no give. She was immobile and helpless. Her breath was coming in short gasps as fear started to work on her nerves. George walked to the bag and took the whip out. The handle somehow felt right. The soft leather strands slid through his fingers with a seductive ease.

"Last chance. Will you submit and suck my cock?"

"No Master, I can't."

"The punishment will continue until you agree to submit. How long it goes is up to you."

George bent his arm back and flicked the whip against her ass. It made a soft slapping sound and Charlene gasped. She was surprised at how little it hurt. There was a mild sting, that was it. The next strike landed against her legs. She moaned and wriggled on the ropes. Again and again, the lashes landed on her, drawing little sounds that were difficult to tell whether they were sounds of pain or pleasure. George slowly increased the force he was using. About five minutes into the whipping, he was starting to see red lines appear on her skin.

The strokes were starting to truly hurt now. Charlene had tears running in her eyes, yet, she felt no impulse to scream. Somehow the pain was not overwhelming her. The spanking had been far worse in spite of the fact that she was sure, in the back of her mind, that the whip was now hurting more than any of the spanks. Even more surprising was how wet she had become and how erect her nipples were. She couldn't think straight, but she knew that there was something important going on inside of her.

Charlene had never heard of sub space and would have been shocked if anyone had told her she had reached it (she had not yet read any blog entries that mentioned it). George's desire to not injure her had inadvertently led to making it possible for her to do so. The soft lashes and light strokes had 'warmed' her up and the slow increase in force had accidentally matched her body and mind's ability to absorb the pain. Charlene floated in that wondrous place as the levels of pain increased.

It had gone on for 15 minutes and George was putting significant weight behind his blows. Charlene was crying out in pain, yet, he could make out a smile on her face. He had no idea that such a thing was possible and was a little frightened of it. He didn't want to stop something that Charlene was obviously enjoying to a significant extent, but her back and legs were so covered in red stripes that he was becoming concerned about injury. He was exceptionally aware of his inexperience and did not trust his own judgment completely. He was pretty sure that Charlene had forgotten that she was supposed to be being whipped into submission.

George stopped the whipping and moved up to Charlene's back. He took her hair in his hand, pulled back, and demanded, "Are you ready to submit?"

His sudden change jerked her back to reality and the truth of the pain hit her like a sledge hammer. While not as bad as it would have been if he had still been whipping her, the residual pain forced a loud wail out of her throat. Sobs began to wrack her body as she nodded and gasped, "Yes, Master, I submit. I will do as you ask."

With a gentler voice, he asked, "Can you handle it. Does it hurt too much to suck me?"

Charlene shook her head, saying, "I can Master. I can."

George released all four cuffs, holding her when she began to fall. Lowering Charlene to her knees, he doffed his pants and briefs to release his erect cock. Groaning at the fire in her back, Charlene leaned forward and took him into her mouth. Her tears were still running down her cheeks, but the pain was diminishing a bit with time. It took very little time for his orgasm to arrive. The sight of her reddened back and tear streaked face turned out to be an incredible turn on. With George already highly aroused, only a little of her tongue swirling around his cock was needed for him to blast an immense amount of cum down her throat.

When he had finished, he knelt down with her. Taking her into his arms, she gasped at the contact with her back, he brought one hand to her pussy and caressed it. His fingers slid easily into her sopping cunt and Charlene arched against him with moans of pleasure. She had been riding high and came quick and hard with another scream. As her body shook, she grasped her husband tight and held on, unable to stay on her knees by herself.

George insisted on giving Charlene a bath afterwards. He knew from his work in construction how easy it was for the smallest of cuts in the skin to become horribly infected, especially if the skin was as wet with sweat and body oils as Charlene's was now. After the initial burst of new pain from the immersion into the soapy water, her pain eased under the soothing effects of the warmth from the water. Not long after being dried off, while George was rubbing her back with an aloe body rub, Charlene fell asleep. George looked over her backside carefully for any breaks in the skin and was pleased to find none.