Tangled Passions Pt. 02 Ch. 26-28

Oddly falling out of character, if only for a moment, Lisa quietly asked, “Had enough?”

"I don't know," Jenn wanted to reply. "Have I? You decide." It was a strange question, for was there ever enough? What would too much look like – feel like? Jenn shrugged in silence, as Lisa considered, perhaps, abandoning the upper class orgy; however, before she made any decision a faceless voice called over to her asking casually if Jenn had ever been disciplined.

"Of course," Lisa responded, "Do you want a demonstration?" The offer took Jenn completely by surprise. Her eyes shot open wide and a tiny whimper escaped her mouth as she stared in disbelief at her mistress, now fully back in character, in control.

Jenn was still not fully at ease with the corporal punishment that comprised discipline. At Celebration she had learned how to remove herself from the physical, dissociate herself from her body, and observe the ordeals objectively from a sort of astral plane. It made her experiences, her victimization, not only tolerable, but exciting, even desirable. Still, here, amongst all of these strangers? It just didn't seem right. Sudden fear paled her skin. An overwhelming urge to protest and complain rose in her. In many ways she knew she should just refuse to play along; this was not in the original plan – whatever that had been – yet, she watched herself, as if from some other place, consciously and deliberately quash her own thoughts of resistance. Passively she obeyed Lisa's direction. She knew that she was supporting the illusion – perpetuating the belief that Lisa was in control; however, deep down Jenn knew the control didn't lie in Lisa. It lay in herself, Jenn Anderson, and in her alone, for it was her conscious decision to choose acquiescence, to allow her subjugation.

Jenn moved woodenly as Lisa ushered her into the middle of the room; her tethering chain inconspicuously unclipped and spirited away. Lisa quietly, firmly ordered her to bend over the back of the soft chair that had been quickly positioned there. Draped there, exposed to the probing eyes of any and all, Jenn took some calming deep breaths and closed her eyes tight in an effort to shut out the outlandish reality in which she currently existed. She was only vaguely aware of the host, Roland, giving quiet commands at her back. She thought she heard Matt's name. Hands grasping her wrists and holding them tight, pulled her back to her present, snapping her eyes open. And what a sight for sore eyes; Matt knelt there before the chair, staring into her eyes with a look of awe sparkling at her. He held her firmly, and pulled her taut against the velvety upholstery. Up till then, Jenn had had no opportunity to interact with him. As he settled himself, pulling her wrists securely forward, his eyes wide and staring, his expression almost vacant, she whispered to him, "Remember, above everything else, that I really, really love you."

Perhaps she saw a smile flicker in the corners of his mouth, perhaps his eyes twinkled just a tad more warmly, but if he replied she heard nothing for her entire awareness was suddenly filled with the stinging belt across her backside. She let out a strangled shriek in surprise. The ordeal, having only just begun, paused after that first single blow. Lisa moved to the side of the chair and fitted Jenn's custom gag securely into her gasping mouth. Forthwith it began again. Jenn's world filled with the multicoloured miasma of pleasure/pain. She mewed into the gag and writhed against the soft covering of the chair. She vaguely noticed that Matt stared at her – his eyes boring into hers during the whole episode. The flavour of the strapping was not entirely uniform, changing after short pauses, as if the belt – if belt it was – was passed to another and another. Subtle differences in intensity and placement grew into a symphony of sensation reverberating from Jenn's buttocks and thighs. There were voices behind her, filtering through. She could hear words being spoken but no meaning penetrated the brilliant sensations, repeatedly renewed, and radiating from her backside.

The overwhelming tactility of flagellation, the soft velvet of the chair, the tightness of Matt's grip and his penetrating gaze, the tensing of her plugged orifices against the appliances, the pinching clamps still felt through the growing numbness of her nipples, with the general atmosphere of the evening conspired, in the end, to bring Jenn to a tremendous body-shaking, knee-melting orgasm. Bolts of red-hot energy flashed from her glowing rear to course along her nerves, wracking her restrained body with convulsions. As the lightning reached her brain, she thought her head would explode. It was too much, and she momentarily swooned. She was not aware of Matt releasing her wrists, nor of hands helping her up. Her eyes saw nothing; reeling in a vortex of overstimulation, she went on standby; her legs, like cooked pasta, refused to support her. With sympathetic help, Lisa led her gently toward to the foyer. Recovering her own coat and draping Jenn's cloak about her, Lisa took her leave of Roland. Overcome, Jenn only gradually regained a degree of sentience. She was marginally cognizant of Roland's kiss on her cheek. She attempted to rouse herself enough to locate Matt but was unable to. She felt drugged – seriously sedated – as Lisa led her out to a mysteriously waiting limo.

Riding back out of the city, in the wee dark hours of morning, Jenn became jumpy and anxious, as awareness seeped back into her being. It felt like too much caffeine, though she hadn't had any. Her backside burned like a severe sunburn, causing her to squirm in pursuit of elusive relief. Scenes replayed behind her eyes. Matt flitted in and out of focus – serving drinks, servicing guests, holding her wrists.

"I knew he was going to be there," Lisa admitted in a low voice. She watched Jenn, eyes gazing blankly into the night, twitching and trembling, a turmoil of emotion. "I told Roland, late in the evening. No one else." At first there was no response, but slowly, a tiny smile graced Jenn's lips. "I told you you'd do fine, didn't I?" Lisa cooed, laying a hand lightly on Jenn's thigh. "You know, other than the four of us, I don't believe anyone even suspected. Your relationship was completely invisible, unknown, indeed nonexistent to everyone but us."

"I'd like to go home, please," Jenn murmured, "My home, our home." Lisa said nothing, but gave the driver the new address. The rest of the trip was in silence. The glow of Jenn's bottom spread through her like a backdrop for her disordered preoccupation. Her eyes sharpened in wild restlessness. Lisa accompanied her into the condo, unfastened Jenn's bonds, removed her nipple clamps, and withdrew the phalluses. She was deliberately soothing and tranquil, trying to gently dispel Jenn's disquiet. Very slowly, Lisa detected the tension finally falling from Jenn. Chastely she helped Jenn shower and prepare for bed. They sat in the living room, silently appreciating each other's company. A glass of sherry released the final shreds of Jenn's uneasiness, and Lisa shuffled her, at last, into bed where they made slow, soothing, delicious love, until Jenn fell asleep.

Lisa apparently left some time in the morning, for Jenn awoke just before noon, alone. The anxiety of the ride home had returned. She seemed victim of a non-specific nervous confusion. Pacing the floors, sucking back strong black coffees, Jenn tried to analyze her overwhelming angst. She also wondered idly if Matt would actually choose to come home that day – or ever.

Bingo! That was it. That was, she realized, exactly what was bothering her. Had she really lost him this time? The hours alone in empty rooms, dragged like anchors. She didn't know how much longer she could wait. A cold dread was squeezing her soul and the pain of loss – another loss – threatened to destroy her sanity.

It was mid-afternoon – she had all but given up hope – when he finally arrived. The quiet turning of a key in the door paralyzed Jenn. She watched, motionless, as he tentatively crept into the living room, not catching sight of her at first. He looked pale and frightened too. They stared uneasily at one another for only a moment before rushing together. Hugging passionately, writhing, groping, panting giggling uncontrollably, they pressed their bodies together, forcing their tongues down each other's throats. For many minutes they grunted and sucked and lapped, whimpering and moaning mouth to mouth, until they stumbled and fell onto the couch, still entwined. Without letting go, they luxuriated in their simple contact – the actual physical marital touch. Meaningful talk with meaningless words, smiles, kisses, touch. The remelding lasted a long hour, before their mutual needs were sated – indeed without copulation. Then they began to really talk.

Jenn spoke first, offering only a brief background – surely he didn't need the sordid details, for as wonderful as her activities always were at any given time, they still made her feel rather tawdry and cheap in objective subsequent recollection. She went on to describe her perception of the previous night's affair in some depth. When she was done, Matt began to recount the event from his point of view, and the immediate details that led to his being there.

XXVII.

"Roland is one of the older power-brokers of The Club," Matt began his narration, rather dispassionately. "He asked me to serve at a private function, there, at his False Creek penthouse, where, as he put it, he would be entertaining some like-minded visitors from Europe and abroad."

"It was with some apprehension that I pressed the button at the door of the penthouse elevator, activated the intercom. Yet, once I heard Roland's deep voice welcoming, I relaxed. 'Matthew,' he answered – he always called me Matthew, never Matt – 'Come on up. I'm awfully glad you've come.' And that was it." Matt smiled a kind of what-can-I-say sort of smile, before going on. "Still, the elevator seemed to leave my stomach at the bottom of its shaft, even more so than elevators usually do. As you know, the doors open directly into the anteroom of his suite, and Roland stood smiling, extending his hand as I stepped out.

"As I looked around, he said he expected quite a crowd, and that he had invited some local power as well. 'Power, you know,' he'd said, 'comes in many more forms than money.' I'm not sure what he meant but he gave me a heavy wink as he said it. Then he started telling me of my duties. Simply, he said I was to be servile – subservient and submissive as necessary. It was odd, really, you know. Roland spoke to me in a sort of friendly, business-like way, just as if I were simply there as a hired domestic, which, I s'pose, was more or less the case. He described my costume and asked me if that was all right. I said sure. I mean, what do I know? Anyway, he told me to undress, and just like that, pulled out this little chest and started fitting me with all my slave-butler stuff."

Jenn realized that he thought she had seen it in detail. "Tell me about it. You know, I hardly saw you at all."

"No, I guess you were a little occupied, eh," he chuckled. "Well, I had a leather collar with four rings, leather wrist and ankle cuffs with rings, and a ringed leather belt."

"Just like me."

"Yeah," Jenn could see Matt visibly relax as he got into his story, and why shouldn't he? He was recounting an interesting experience to his wife in his own home. She felt a renewed confidence that she hadn't lost him, at least not yet. She detected, albeit abstractly, radiating from him, a strength of love that warmed her soul. She watched the twinkling in his eyes as he went on. Yet, it amazed her that as he got into his story that his relating became so impersonal. Despite the fact that he spoke in the first person, the narration was extremely objective – almost flat. Jenn found it hard to reconcile his nearly lifeless account with her own recollections. For her it had been so incredibly peaky and piquing – such an experience, such a high, yet from Matt it sounded like just another mundane event – no more. "And I had a buckled leather strap about an inch wide around the base of my cock with an elasticized Lycra ball-bag snugly holding my nuts."

"I did see that."

"I had a butt-plug in, attached to my cock strap and my waist with leather laces, and my wrists were tethered to my neck with leather as well. I couldn't lower my hands any further than my waist. That forced me to stand much closer to everything. While he was lacing me up, as it were, I remember Roland remarked that he doesn't particularly like chain. 'It's too clattery and unyielding,' is how he put it, 'Leather is far more conducive to our purposes.' I guess I agree with him, when you think about texture, feel, smell, and taste, and, as he says, it's quieter though not always silent. It gives a little under stress and it's subtler – thin black or brown, '...not,' as he pointed out, 'clunky, garish chrome.'"

Jenn felt her face redden. She was amazed he could be so matter-of-fact about it.

"So, anyway, Roland gave me concise instructions about meeting the guests, taking their coats, et cetera – you know, silent, eyes lowered and all that. Nothing new, really.

"Among the first guests were a swarthy skinned fellow, about my age, and his companion, apparently from Switzerland. She kept her eyes down, and I only stole a couple of glances at her. She waited motionless while I hung her master's coat. Roland chatted a bit then took his guest by the arm, and said, 'Take her coat.' When I did, I don't know why, but I was astounded to discover that beneath it she wore virtually nothing. A phallic pendant of gold hung at her neck and matching phalluses were on a finger, hanging from rings in each nipple, from both wrists and both ankles, and, even from her cunt lips. I took in all the details, though I don't really know how."

Jenn grimaced. Even after all her lascivious experience, she still didn't like that word. The 'C'-word. There was something ugly about it. Still, her moue changed to a sigh and a smile as she remembered the flavour of those rings. "Yeah, I know." She paused, dreamily. Silently, she considered other possibilities for rings like that – snapped together after the insertion of Ben-Wa balls perhaps; anchoring a leash by which to be led; holding her grotto wide open while she lay tied spread-eagle. Then a random thought jolted her: when might that happen to me? She was puzzled by the question, yet almost attracted by the idea. Would it actually happen? Jenn's eyes glazed over for a moment. Just as quickly, her reverie was broken.

"She was very pretty, but sultry and sullen," Matt went on. "Her master snapped a leash to the ring at her neck and led her off passively into the living room. It was then, as I struggled to hang her coat neatly, that you guys arrived. I didn't see you at first. I just heard Roland say, as he returned from the other room, 'Aha! Lisa!' and all that. I didn't think anything of it. Still, I guess the name Lisa must have rattled some drawers in the back of my consciousness, 'cause I was a bit OTL when I turned. Roland just shoved the woman's – Lisa's – coat at me, leaving me fight to hang it too. It was actually lighter and a damn sight simpler than the last one.

"So my back was to you when Roland said, 'I see you've brought a new friend – someone I don't believe I've met.' You know, I'm starting to recognize lust when it's in his voice, and believe me it veritably dripped when he saw you. I remember thinking that in spite of all his power and money, he was still just a dirty old man; a lecher like the rest of us."

"I thought he was very subtle," Jenn remarked, although she didn't really know why she should come to Roland's defense.

"Well, maybe," Matt agreed rhetorically. "Anyway, just as I turned again to take your coat she said, 'Roland dear, this is Jenn.' When you raised your eyes I just about shit. Really. I thought I was going to die. I've never been so surprised – ever! I guess, in retrospect, I could tell you were surprised too. Your eyes were the size of saucers. I could hardly stop shaking enough to move. Then when I finally got your cloak off and you were basically naked... well, Jeez." He shook his head heavily, reliving his absolute amazement. His voice went soft. "You were beautiful." Jenn dropped her eyes, unable to meet his sad, longing gaze. "I don't think I've ever seen you look as wonderful as you looked then." They remained silent and still for a moment. Jenn could feel Matt's stare, reaching for her until the silence became intolerable.

"Thanks," she said. There was a note of apology as well as appreciation in that single word. She was sure they had both heard it. She wondered if he understood it any better than she did.

"Your Lisa knew, didn't she?"

"Yeah."

"Oh well," Matt pondered that for a moment before continuing. "When you went in finally, I was completely stunned. I don't know how I managed to function out there for the rest of the time, but I guess I did.

"I consciously tried to ignore you and your ignoble treatment. My own business kept me occupied. Still, I couldn't believe it when Roland told me, at the end there, to, as he put it 'restrain the whippee'. I'm not sure if he knew then or not. I couldn't let on, in any case. And then when you whispered to me, just before your first lash, I don't know, but I almost came. It felt so weird." He looked at her with such profound confusion, that Jenn got flustered for the moment; still, he went on with his narration. "While I was holding your wrists, during the entire thrashing, I tried to displace you. Did you feel it?"

Jenn didn't really know what he meant. She didn't answer.

"I tried to penetrate your soul – trade positions – through your eyes."

Jenn nodded. She remembered, through the miasma of pain and tears, how he had ocularly fixed onto her with such an intensity that she thought he would bore into her head.

"It almost worked. I could almost feel every blow, share every tactile spike – almost. I thought we had just about merged, then you climaxed and I lost the connection. And, although I felt crushed as you were taken away, something in me knew we would get together before long."

"And here we are," Jenn smiled.

"I don't really remember much after you left. It was dawn before everyone was gone. And when they had, Roland said to me, 'I apologize about the presence of your ex-wife...'

"Not ex,' I corrected him. I told him we're still married.

"He was surprised, I think, but he complimented us both on, as he said, our 'strength, and presence of mind not to betray anything.' He didn't pry any further about our relationship. I just said that I still love you. We've talked about you a bit before. He knew that much, anyway." Matt shrugged and looked away. He took a deep breath, as if he was finding the end of his story difficult. When he finally began again, his voice had returned, once more, to the dispassionate monotone with which he had begun the tale. "He asked me to share his bed for what was left of the night; I did.

"In the morning he insisted I take five hundred dollars. 'Don't worry, my lad,' he said, 'You're not a whore. I never pay for sex; this is just for your domestic services. The rest was voluntary, eh wot?' I nodded. I guess he's right. Anyway, then I came back here. I didn't know if you'd be here or not." Jenn didn't say anything. She just reached over and took his hands in hers, giving them an affectionate squeeze. She felt something dampen her eyes.

A look of distress, crossed Matt's eyes. "How did you...?" He didn't finish the question.

Jenn spoke softly. She had heard the whole question. She had expected it. "I saw..." Should she implicate him? No, it was before that anyway. "I was..."