Down the Stairs

"What, why?" he asked her.

"As you figured out," she started, "we thought you were Darren. Well most of us. After about half way through, I knew you weren't him. I kind of figured out it was you, James, although I wasn't absolutely sure." She paused, looking at him. He couldn't tell whether he saw compassion or something much else in her eyes. She sat on the concrete floor a few feet from him.

"I don't know if you know Darren much, but he's a real asshole. He uses women, and I mean that literally. He's got, I don't know, some kind of charm, at least when you first meet him. It's easy to fall for him. You don't realize he's fucking you, in more ways than one, for a while. He gets you to start paying for everything, he takes you out less and less, has you make dinner for him all the time, gets you to loan him money. He's real smooth." She looked at him, to see if he understood. "I guess that sounds kind of lame. I don't know, he, he does just enough to keep you wondering. And, well, he's good in bed." She shook her head. "Only good thing about him. He just likes to -" She struggled for the words.

"He's just a user. Totally. When you finally figure it out, when you confront him, he admits it. Goes on about some bullshit, about how you were using him, laughs at you. Usually, by this time, he's got another girlfriend, too. Asshole." She whispered the last word. She was still hurting over him, James could tell. He thought she might start to cry, but she became stoic again.

"I could guess you all didn't like him," he offered humorlessly.

She laughed anyway. "Yeah, I guess you could. A few of us sort of met by accident. I knew one of the others, we started talking, found out that Darren had screwed us both. We contacted the others." She paused. "At first, it was just a fantasy, you know. Kidnap him, beat him up." As she looked at him, a slight guilty look crossed her face. "You have me to thank for making it a reality. Pretty damn stupid idea, I guess. I didn't know they'd get the wrong guy. Jerks." She sniggered. "They couldn't whip someone to save their lives."

"It was you, wasn't it? With the crop, and the second one to, to fuck me?"

"Yeah, I've done this before. I'm into this kind of stuff, bondage, S and M. Not with Darren, but with others."

"Why, when you knew it wasn't me, why didn't you stop?" His face had an almost pained look, as if she'd betrayed him.

She paused, studying him before answering. "You were enjoying it too much. I can tell, I've been doing this a while. I did tone it down a bit after I realized. When I was fucking you, I noticed that it wasn't Darren's dick in front of me. Guess all the others made love in the dark." She sniggered again. Apparently she didn't have much respect for the other women. "You two do look a bit a like, at least in the body." She looked at him up and down, and he realized he was naked in front of her. It didn't seem to matter.

"I realized that even if we had gotten Darren, none of it would have mattered. Darren's an asshole, and this would have just pissed him off. And I didn't want to burst their bubble, you know?" She shook her head again. "I convinced the others just 10 swats apiece, at the end there. They wanted to whip the hell out of you. You probably didn't feel it much, anyway. They were kind of wimpy. Darren would have probably laughed. Not at me, though." She got a far-away look in her eyes.

Even though she'd "helped" him, he wanted to get angry at her. Enjoying it? How the hell could he enjoy getting whipped and fucked like that? He wanted to get angry, but then he remembered how he had come, how intense the orgasms had been.

Instead of anger, he found he was more curious. "Why'd you come back? What makes you think I won't go to the police?" She pulled her gaze back to him.

"I just figured you wouldn't. I think I might know you a little better than you do yourself, in some ways. If I hadn't been so damn pre-occupied with asshole Darren, I might have noticed you at the apartments. Actually, I did, I just ignored you at the time." She gave him the look again. It scared him. It seemed caring, but it looked into him, through him. It was compassion and hunger, somehow together. She stood up.

"I came back to help you get loose. I brought you a T-shirt." She pointed to the table, where his clothes were. "I wanted to pick up my stuff, too. Those are my cuffs and hood. And I wanted to offer you a ride. It's a bit of a walk back."

He thought about it. She was right, he wouldn't go to the police. He wasn't even sure exactly why.

He stood up, still naked in front of her. He thought about all the pain his body had been put through, about the control the women had had over him. His ass was sore, inside and out. His nipples were still throbbing. His legs had a few red marks up and down them, and his back probably did, too. He could still taste the juices from the cunnilingus he'd performed.

His dick was hard again.

He nodded his head, just slightly.

"Get dressed," she said. She pointed to his clothes on the table. "Leave the collar on." It had not been a request, nor a command, not exactly. A reminder, he decided.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied.

Her smile was something he couldn't read.