Grappling with a Challenge

"I'm loosening my legs a little," she said. "Move your head down slowly."

Then she made my blood run cold, because she giggled. Maybe it was a nervous giggle, but to me it drove home how much she was enjoying all of this, including the cane. How could I have ever loved this woman?

I followed her instructions, and as I moved my head down, the smell grew stronger and I felt moisture against my cheeks. I held my breath to keep from gagging. How was I going to do this? She opened her legs a little as I reached her crotch. My eyes were tightly shut as I moved my head. I couldn't see where I was going.

She must have realized this, because her hands went to my head again, but this time they didn't grab. They gently guided me to the spot so my lips were at her pussy. Then she let go and waited. The smell was now overwhelming, and I couldn't help lifting my head and gagging. She didn't say or do anything. I shuddered and slowly lowered my head again and began licking.

Usually, I play with her when I'm orally satisfying her. I do different things with my tongue and my lips. When she goes wild, I sometimes lift my head up and look at her and get so excited that I can barely keep from coming.

All I did now was just lick up and down. It didn't seem to matter. Almost immediately, she began squirming like she does just before she comes. As she did, her lower lips opened and my come gushed out over my tongue. I pulled back quickly, but it was too late. It was all over my face and a lot of it went into my mouth, and I couldn't help swallowing some of it.

I inhaled and exhaled slowly several times to keep from passing out. I wanted to wipe my face, but my hands were trapped beneath me. I couldn't believe what I had just experienced. I wanted to die of shame. I froze.

"Keep going," I heard her say, but I couldn't move. She said it again a little louder and then a third time. I wanted to do what she said so she would release my head and I could kill her and then kill myself. But my body didn't listen to my head. It wouldn't budge.

Then I screamed. This time it wasn't boiling water. It was worse. It was more like being burned at the stake. My whole body rose from the bed as the cane tore into my butt.

That got me back to licking and gagging, licking and gagging. She went into an orgasm that seemed to last forever. When it finally subsided, I felt her legs loosen. I pulled my head up and got my arms between her legs and pulled them violently apart and jumped out of bed.

I stood there panting and swaying from the nausea. I looked down at her. She was lying there quietly, not trying to move away from me. She looked at me, and her face had an angelic smile on it that enraged me. I saw the cane lying next to her. I grabbed it and raised it into the air.

"Go ahead," she said in a soft voice.

"What?" I said.

"Go ahead," she said again, this time speaking clearly. "Do it! I won't stop you. Beat me bloody. Go ahead! I deserve it."

"You bitch!" I screamed as I broke the cane over my knee. "That's what you'd like, isn't it? When the police come, you can show them what I did to you, and they'll forget all about what you did to me. You're not getting off that easy."

I didn't say another word as I dressed quickly and left. She sat on the bed watching me. A couple of times I heard a sound as if she was about to say something, but she never said a word.

*************

I didn't go to the police. As soon as I was calm enough to think about it, I realized that if I filed a report, I would also be damaging myself. She might plead guilty, but for her first offense she'd probably get probation or a week of highway clean-up in an orange jumpsuit. In other words, she'd get off easy.

Even if she admitted everything, nobody would believe that I was helpless. Everyone would think it was just some kinky game that got out of hand. So I did nothing.

Sally kept calling me, but I ignored her calls. I didn't listen to her voice mails and deleted her emails and texts as soon as I saw who was sending them. After a while, the calls and messages stopped.

Omie asked me why I dumped her, and I told her it was a long story. I saw Sally around campus occasionally, but the moment she came into view, I looked somewhere else or walked in a different direction. Thank goodness, I never had a class with her.

One strange thing I did notice a few times before I looked away. She was sometimes with one of my former friends. There were three friends who had tried to come on to her while we were dating. She had told me about each one, and none of them had denied her accusations. That's when they had become ex-friends. She had told me how disgusting she had found all three, and now she was dating them. They deserved each other!

One night at a party, her friend Sloane managed to corner me.

"You know she's gone off the deep end because of you," she said.

"Yeah. I saw who she's dating."

"She thinks she's doing that for you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean she's doing the same things to them as she did to you -- and a lot worse. The first time she hid video cameras, and after that she blackmailed them. They can't get out of doing it unless they don't mind her showing the videos to all their friends, especially the girls.

"I told her if they went to the cops, she'd be behind bars for a few years, but she said she didn't care. She's lucky they're too embarrassed to report her. She's made them even more submissive than my boyfriends.

"She's making the videos for you. She thought you were going to cane the living hell out of her when she did that to you and that would make you feel guilty enough to forgive her. Now she has this crazy idea that when you see what she's done to your enemies, you'll forgive her. I told you she's not thinking normally anymore."

"You're right. I will never forgive her."

"Even though it's my fault -- and Sheridan's?"

"What do you mean it's your fault?"

"We encouraged her to do it," she said. "She was reluctant, but we told her you loved her and would eventually get over it, even though it might mean she had to take a caning. She was hesitant, but we finally convinced her."

"You had no right to make her think I loved her. It doesn't matter anyway because she knew exactly what she was doing, so I don't feel sorry for her at all."

"You may not feel sorry for her, but if you're saying you never loved her, you're lying. I'm sure you still love her. Too bad it had to end this way,"

"Yeah," I said. "Too fucking bad."

****************

After I graduated, I only applied for jobs out of town, and I moved before the end of June. I had a great time meeting new people and had some nice relationships. That's all they were -- nice -- but at least none of them ended badly.

I did think about Sally. Sometimes, I thought about her and Omie and myself as children and teenagers and the wonderful year we had together in college, but usually the memories skipped right to the night of hell. Sometimes it happened in dreams, too, and I'd wake up breathing hard with my fists clenched. The other thing that happened when I thought of her was that I started talking to myself.

I wasn't actually talking to myself. I was talking to her, even though she wasn't there. I imagined myself screaming obscenities at her. Sometimes I was caning her while cussing her out. Maybe I was ashamed for being such a wimp. Now I thought of all the things I should have yelled at her, and they came out, sometimes loudly.

I talked to a friend who was a psychologist about it, and he said it sounded similar to Tourette's Syndrome, but if it only happened when I was alone, there was no reason to treat it. He told me it was probably a defense mechanism. Since I couldn't help thinking about Sally, this prevented me from doing anything.

"You mean, like killing her?" I asked.

He laughed.

I kept thinking of more and more stuff, some if it so ugly and disgusting that I was shocked when it came out of my mouth. Sometimes I yelled at my apartment walls until I had no breath left.

When my company transferred me to my home town, I first thought of trying to avoid it, but it was a major promotion. I realized that the only thing that made me hesitate was Sally. A few sessions of yelling at her got me past that.

Omie had never written me about her or talked about her when I visited because she knew that the subject was painful for me. When I moved back, she mentioned that Sally had also moved away after graduating and that they didn't communicate very often.

A year later, Omie told me Sally was coming back because her mother was sick. After the two of them got together, she told me Sally really wanted to see me. She said Sally looked as hot as ever and that she had been engaged once but called it off. She said Sally told her that she had treated me horribly and just wanted a chance to apologize.

I told Omie to forget about getting Sally and me together. Omie said it was a shame because Sally had been sort of strange for the last two years of college -- after we had broken up -- but now she was the same old Sally, warm and funny, just like when we were kids. I said that was great, but I still didn't want to see her.

I did see her, though. It was a small city, and it was inevitable that we would run into each other. Omie was right about Sally looking good. She was obviously still working out. Thinking about her working out made me think about her Brazilian jiu jitsu, and my mind grew dark. That evening at home, I think I broke the record, because I managed to cuss her out for more than an hour.

Sally didn't see me each time I saw her, but when she did, she tried to approach me. I never let her get within five feet.

One week I got to my Mom's for Sunday dinner late. In the winter, we usually all went to church together and then to her house for a big meal at two o'clock, but this weekend, one of my bosses was in town, and I had to take her to the airport for a one o'clock flight.

When I got to my Mom's house, I went straight to the dining room and saw she and Dad were waiting for me. Omie's husband was sitting there with their baby, and Mom was in the kitchen. Then Omie and Sally walked in. They were laughing about something, but as soon as Sally saw me, she stopped laughing. I began to get up from the table, and Mom started to say something. Sally interrupted her.

"Let him go, Mrs. Whitlow," she said.

She was smiling at Mom.

"He's leaving because of me, and when I tell you what I did to him, you'll understand why. Today is Valentine's Day, and it's just a few days before the anniversary of the biggest mistake I ever made in my life. That's why I came here tonight -- to apologize to all of you. You've never heard the reason why we broke up, because it was so horrible that neither of us wanted anyone else to know.

"You and Mr. Whitlow and Omie might be thinking that Sonny was partly to blame. Tonight I'll tell you everything I did to him, and then you'll be absolutely sure that you are blessed to have the most wonderful son in the world, because he never tried to repay me -- even though he had it in his power."

I saw Mom's head going back and forth to Sally and me, staring at us. I didn't look around, but I'm sure the others at the table were doing the same thing. I sank down into my seat.

"Sally, stop," Mom said. "Sonny looks as pale as a ghost. Omie, get him some water."

Sally looked at me and turned back to Mom.

"Maybe I'm rushing this a little, Mrs. Whitlow," she said. "I haven't talked to your son since I got back to town. Maybe he'd rather go for a ride with me and discuss this before I say anything. I wouldn't want to go against his wishes."

I couldn't speak, and I felt like I had strong weights attached to me pulling me down into a river where I was going to drown. Then I felt Sally pulling me to my feet. I had forgotten how strong she was. Even though I was like dead weight, she had no trouble taking hold of me and escorting me quickly to the car.

It was like she was the policewoman and I was the perp. She pushed my head down as she shoved me into the passenger seat and slammed the door. It was less than a minute from the time she lifted me from my chair until she was spinning the wheels and shooting out of our driveway like a cannon. A mile down the road, she pulled over and fastened my seat belt. I was still drowning in the river and barely noticed.

She drove over an hour. We were way out of town going through farm country when she turned the car onto a hilly gravel road with lots of trees on either side. After a few minutes, she pulled into an open space of grass off the road and turned off the engine.

It was totally silent. There was no sound of birds or insects, nothing but our breathing. I sat looking straight ahead, and I felt her eyes on me.

After about ten minutes, she said, "Do you want to say anything?"

I said nothing. We sat there for about fifteen more minutes in silence, and then she got out of the car and began walking up the gravel road. In a few minutes, I didn't see her. I sat in the car for a while, and then I got out and walked around a little. I didn't follow her.

It was almost an hour before she came back. She walked up close to me.

She seemed to be trembling as she asked me again, "Do you want to say anything yet?"

I began shaking. I tried to control my mouth enough to speak, but it was hard. Finally, I got a grip on myself, and I looked her in the eye and said, "Take me back, you b-b-b-b."

I couldn't finish.

"No," she said. "It's time to talk."

"Where are the keys?"

"Where you can't get to them. You can start walking, but I don't think you can reach the nearest farmhouse until dark, and I won't tell you what direction it is."

"You b-b-b-b!"

I sputtered to a stop.

"Cat got your tongue? Maybe this will help loosen it."

She opened the trunk of her car. There was only one thing inside: a long cane. She picked it up and held it and swung it hard through the air a few times. The sound was an echo from my nightmares.

She closed the trunk and lay the cane down on top of it to one side. She turned away from me and faced the trunk and took two steps back. She put two hands in front of her and bent over until her hands were on the trunk. She wiggled and spread her legs apart and then bent her knees and moved her legs closer to the car so her butt was pushed out.

She removed her hands from the trunk and supported herself with her chest. Her hands moved behind her. They lifted her skirt up over her waist, and then they went back to the trunk. She stuck out her rear more. I saw that the yoga tights she wore were so thin that they looked painted on her."

Just then the afternoon sun came through the trees and shone on her. It looked like she wasn't wearing anything. I saw she still had a lot of hair between her legs. My heart was pounding. I knew what she wanted me to do, but I was frozen.

After what seemed like hours, even though it was only a few minutes, I heard her sigh. She straightened up and smoothed her skirt down over her thighs again and turned to me.

"Maybe I should talk first," she said. "In case you're wondering, I'm not going to tell your family anything. That was just to get you out here.

"I'm not asking you to forgive me. That's what I wanted at first. I've thought about this a lot. Even after I told him everything, my pastor promised me Jesus forgives me, but I don't even know if I want him to.

"What I want for sure is for you to take that cane and make my ass bloody. You can pull down my tights if you want to whip me on my bare ass. I need to hurt so badly that I will always remember this day. It won't make me forget what I did, but I hope it will help me deal with the guilt.

"That's all I have to say, except I think I figured out why I hurt and humiliated you. This is not an excuse, just an explanation. My friends told me you loved me, but I knew better. All I was to you was a friend with benefits. The attempts I made to show you that I was madly in love with you bounced off you like water off a duck.

"I knew that when you got serious about having a family, you'd look for someone more like you, and I would be cast aside. The Valentine's Day decision wasn't that big. It was just another indication of how unimportant I was to you.

"I expected you to punish me for what I did, and at first, I was surprised by the way you reacted, but later I realized my stupidity. You would never hurt me. That's not the kind of man you are.

"Afterward, I was so full of guilt and worry that I had destroyed you that I almost went out of my mind and did some crazy things. I was tremendously relieved when I heard you were doing fine. It helped me deal with the depression that came from knowing I had ruined whatever small chance I ever had to be with you. See, I still love you. I love you more this moment than I ever have."

That did it.

"You filthy bitch, you have no idea what love is."

That's how it started in a low monotone. What she said had released the floodgates, and everything came pouring out. As I kept going, my words got increasingly vile and graphic. My voice grew loud and passionate as I began to tell her what I thought of her and what I'd like to do to her.

As I went on, her facial expressions changed. First, she was almost smiling. She was enjoying the verbal abuse. It was like she was soaking it up. At one point, I picked up the cane and began waving it around. When I did that, her facial expression changed. She wasn't afraid. She looked eager and hopeful. She wanted me to hurt her. Her face showed her disappointment when put it down again.

Nothing got to me until about a half-hour later, during my description of how I would separate each organ from her body and what I'd do with it after it was removed. Instead of being horrified, she was looking at me with affection and sadness. She was feeling sorry for me.

That made me doubly furious, and my diatribe became more extreme. She continued looking at me the same way and crying softly as I spewed out the bile inside of me.

While I was talking, I heard myself saying new things that I hadn't thought of before -- I called her an evil witch with a heart of ice -- but most of my new material wasn't colorful -- just sick.

After I used up the new ideas, I went back to things I had already told her many times, only she hadn't been there to hear them. As I went on raving, I began getting scared.

I looked at her, and then I looked away. I saw the cane lying there waiting for me to pick it up. I looked back at her. I realized I couldn't stop myself. I was completely out of control.

What scared me was the growing realization that my psychologist friend was right. My words were my defense mechanism to keep me from doing something drastic. It worked when I was alone in my apartment because she wasn't there.

This was different. I began shaking as I understood what was going to happen when I ran out of ways to curse her. I had to stop myself before I got there, but I couldn't. I was like a runaway train.

In desperation, I summoned my last bit of strength, and my voice got louder and higher. But I already knew that wouldn't prevent what I was about to do. I was going to tell her that I loved her with all my heart and wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.

The way she looked at me, I thought she might already know. As I took a step toward her, she didn't flinch. Her arms moved slightly forward. She was preparing to push me back. No! Her palms were open. She was reaching for me.

I stared at her as I yelled myself hoarse, trying to see in her face what she was thinking. Did she know she had me in her power like she did on the worst day of my life? I had no chance. I never did.

For background on the stories of edrider73, see "Author Interview: edrider73" by Literoticauthor. Tag: "author interview."