Sacrifice of Suffering

Once Lisa was vertical, Gale stepped forward and stood inches in front of her. Both women were glistening with sweat. Gale opened her arms tentatively, and Lisa stepped forward and collapsed into them.

"You're a genius. Thank you," Lisa whispered, regaining her footing.

"No, thank you," Gale whispered back. "I'll see you tonight."

"You bet your tight little ass you will." Abruptly, Lisa reached up with both hands, grasped Gale's head, and pulled her down into a hard, mouth-on-mouth kiss. Gale immediately responded, hooking two fingers into D-rings on either side of the waist belt that Lisa was still wearing, and pulling the smaller woman against her. In the background, the men clapped and cheered. "Hey, you two, get a room!"

"Already got one," Lisa said.

8. Revelations

In which Our Heroine provides some long-awaited explanations,

followed by a Happy Ending.

"OK, Jimmy," Helen said, "So let's see what you got for us."

They were back in the office. The late afternoon sunshine, filtered through closed curtains, filled the room with an amber glow. Helen had rolled her massive CEO chair around the desk and swiveled it to face the 86-inch HDTV on the inner wall. She was flanked by Gail and Doro, in office chairs. Jimmy, standing behind the desk, fiddled with the computer. Alan had returned to his office, and Bud had disappeared.

Lisa reclined in front of them on one of the couches which had been turned to face the TV. She was lying on her side, propped up on a pile of cushions; Doro had given her a couple of oxycodone tablets, and four more in a small envelope to get her through the trip back to San Francisco. Lisa had washed her face, brushed out her hair, reapplied makeup, and was looking almost normal.

"As I said," Jimmy was saying, "We recorded from four angles. Three fixed cameras; one on the ass, one on the face, one full-length on the right side, plus one Steadicam that followed the action from various angles. So we have four separate MP4 files." On the screen, he opened a file folder labeled "Lisa." In it were four files labelled Ass, Face, Side and Roving. "Now usually, we'd cut these files into a single video, but of course we haven't had the time to do that. Do you want us to? It would take us a couple of days."

"No." Lisa's voice had regained its strength. "Just put what you have on a thumb drive. That's all I want."

"Would you like to, like, preview any of this? Just to see what we got?"

Lisa was silent. After a moment, Helen spoke up. "I'd like to take a look. Just to satisfy myself we held up our end of the contract. Any others?" Gail; "Fuck yeah." Doro; "Sure, whatever."

"Which file?" Jimmy asked.

"Which one has the best audio?" Doro asked.

"The one shot with the Steadicam.""

"So let's take look at that one." The boss and the domina nodded agreement. On the sofa, Lisa lay motionless.

Jimmy had done an excellent job of capturing the closeups. Lisa's descent over the hours from ironic stoicism to agonized hysteria had all been captured.

"Well done, Jimmy," Helen said. "It's a shame we can't market that - it would be a moneymaker."

"Hey, how about me?" Gail interjected in feigned outrage.

"You did a fantastic job. As did Bud; that bit of improv at the end was the icing on the cake. A good team effort all around. But I've got one question. Back it up to around 15:17."

Jimmy did. It was near the end of the buggering. Lisa was bouncing on Bud's cock and screaming, "Bàba, wǒ shùncóng nǐ! Ài wǒ, bàba, ài wǒ, ài wǒ!"

"That's the first time we heard that," Helen said. "Now you can tell me if it's none of our business, but I'd really like to know what you're saying there. In fact, I'd like to know, at long last, what this whole scene was about. If you don't mind."

"I suppose you ought to know." Lisa spoke in a measured monotone. The others leaned forward to hear her. "I suppose I should, in fact, make a video of it, to protect you. Something you can show the authorities, in the unlikely event that I die of peritonitis arising from a bowel injury. Jimmy, please set up a camera." Jimmy looked at Helen, who nodded. He scurried to comply.

After the camera was rolling, Lisa continued. "At that point in the program, I was saying, 'Daddy, I submit to you. Love me Daddy, love me, love me!"

"And this video is for your father?" Helen was incredulous.

"You Daddy made you come here and be face-fucked and ass-fucked and tortured?" Gail was incredulous. "That's one thousand different ways. Of. Fucked. Up."

"No. My father is dead. Has been for almost twenty years. Let me explain."

"Please do," Doro said.

"First," Lisa began, "I must tell you something about our traditional religion. We believe in life after death; no reincarnation. All souls go to the same place, which we call Dìyù. Westerners usually translate the word as "hell," but that's incorrect. It's neither a place of reward nor of punishment; it's just another realm of being. Souls there can be hungry, thirsty, rich or poor, just like in our realm.

"The thing is, the dead in Dìyù can receive things from us, the living. We leave food at their tombs, they enjoy a meal. We burn special paper money, like Monopoly money, and their wealth increases. We even burn paper cars, boats and airplanes at funerals, so our dear departed will be able to enjoy all of those things in their new home."

"That's fucked up," Gail snorted. "How can a paper car become a real car, anywhere?"

"How can a wheat wafer become the body of a dead prophet?" Lisa retorted. "Have a care about what you call 'fucked up.' But you're right, the paper car doesn't become a real car. We burn it to focus our thoughts on what we want to send; in that case, a car. Our thoughts and prayers, focused by sacrifice and ritual, are what actually deliver the gifts. So that's what you need to understand about our religion. You also have to understand something about me, and my family history."

Lisa was silent for a long minute, gathering her strength. The others, respecting her struggle, waited patiently.

"We lived in Hong Kong. Dad had fled the mainland during the Cultural Revolution and met Mom there. They had two children, a boy and girl; the boy, my brother, was two years older than I. Dad had wanted many more children, all of them boys. He was extremely old-fashioned; traditional. Filial love and respect were everything. He worshipped his ancestors, and he expected his family to worship him. Not to the extent of putting up an altar and making sacrifices, of course; he was still very much alive. But he did expect unquestioning obedience, and when he didn't get it, he lashed out - with his belt, or his hand. He hit all of us, including Mom, and he did it regularly.

"He was also a master manipulator. Whenever he wanted to be, he was the most charming man you could imagine; warm, funny, totally ingratiating. That's the way he was with everyone outside his family, and it made him rich in the Hong Kong business world. He could be that way with my mother and brother, too - but never with me.

"When he came home from work, he always had a big smile and a hug for my brother, a hug and a kiss for Mom, but nothing for me. If I got any attention at all, it was a pat on the head, which could mean either 'I see you' or 'Get out of the way.' On New Year's and other holidays, my mother and brother got expensive presents; gold, jade, large sums of money. I got nothing, ever. I got what I needed, of course; food, clothing, school fees. But if I got anything extra, I got it from Mom, and never in front of Dad.

"I remember Mom trying to intercede for me exactly once. I think I was five or six. She said to Dad, "For goodness' sake, Husband, why not something for little Sau Fong?' He slapped her so hard she fell flat on her butt. When she rose to her knees, he put a foot on one of her shoulders and pushed hard, sending her sprawling. 'Never speak to me of that turtle's egg!" he screamed, red-faced. "She should have been Number Two Son! And as she pushed her way out, she ruined my wife. No more sons, ever! Be grateful I didn't drown her!" He was trembling with rage. I fled the room.

"Did I hate him? No. I desperately wanted his love; without it, I felt so worthless, so vulnerable. But there was no way I could earn his love. He wouldn't let me near him."

Helen, Gail and Doro were facing Lisa, having moved their chairs to the other side of her couch so they could hear her. Jimmy had repositioned the camera tripod and was perched on the edge of the desk, headphones on his head, monitoring the recording. Lisa continued calmly, as if she were reciting another woman's story.

"We had a large apartment, by Hong Kong standards. Two stories; upstairs, we had two small bedrooms sharing a hall bathroom, and the large master bedroom with an ensuite bath. My brother and I were in the small bedrooms; the parents, of course, were in the master bedroom. Downstairs, we had a large living and dining room, the kitchen, and the maid's quarters. Yes, we always had a maid. She has no part in this story; she always did her best to remain invisible.

"I was thirteen, in middle school. I woke up one night at two, needing to pee. This was unusual for me; I must have eaten watermelon that day. Anyway, I went to the bathroom, peed, and noticed there was light under the door between the bathroom and my brother's room. I thought about going in; I was going to say, 'Hey, Kin Wai, I see you're awake too. Let's go raid the fridge.' My brother, like my mother, loved me a lot. The only grief I ever got while I was growing up came from dear old Dad.

"Anyway, I opened the door just a few centimeters, and froze. Kin Wai was naked, bent over the foot of the bed, with his feet on the carpet and his face on a pillow. Behind him was Dad. Dad was buggering him.

"They both had their backs, or rather their butts, to me. I stood in the dark bathroom, with the door open a crack, and saw everything, but they never saw me. They could have turned around and looked, but they were busy.

"I never knew that Dad had such a hairy ass. Or that he could sweat like that. It was streaming down his back. He was pounding Kin Wai hard; the bed squeaked and shook with every stroke. He was muttering, "I need this. I need this. You are a dutiful son. You are a good son. A good son with a tight asshole. I love it. I need it. You are a wonderful son.' Things like that, over and over. Kin Wai was sobbing. He was saying, 'Please, Dad, please stop. Be done and stop. I love you Dad, but please stop.'

"It seemed like an hour, but Dad finally got off, groaning and shaking and flinging drops of sweat in all directions like a wet dog. Kin Wai collapsed across the bed, face in his hands, shuddering. As Dad put on his bathrobe, he said, 'That's the way of the world. The son pleasures the father as one of his duties. I pleasured my Dad, and when you have a son, he'll pleasure you, too. I only wish I'd had ten sons. Instead of only one, and a useless girl.' Then he left."

"How old was your brother?" Doro asked.

"He's just turned 18. I think Dad left him alone before then. Anyway, I made it a point to sleep with my door to the bathroom open a crack. When I woke up at night, I listened carefully. When I heard something going on, I'd slip out of bed. If the light in my brother's room was on, I'd listen at his door. If I heard what sounded like - well, like what I'd seen, I'd open the door a tiny crack. It was never locked. It was almost as if Kin Wai had wanted a witness.

"I discovered that Dad had two favorite activities with Kin Wai. About half the time, he buggered him, hard. The other half, he forced him to perform fellatio until he gagged - sometimes vomited. Of course, I didn't know what it was called - I only knew that it was nasty. The boy never got used to either one; whether it was pain, or shame, or both, he was always crying by the time it was over.

"One night I woke up hungry and decided to go downstairs and get a glass of milk. I saw a light under the door of my parents' bedroom. I paused in the hall, listening. I heard muffled voices, then a sharp crack along with a sharp 'Aieee!' followed by muffled sobbing. That was my mom. More muttering, then three cracks in a row, accompanied by more keening.

"I was afraid to try the door, but I wanted to see what was happening. I knew the master bedroom had a sliding door opening onto a small balcony. I went back into my own room and opened the window. I could lean out and reach the balcony railing; I grabbed it with both hands and swung myself over. I have no idea where I found the courage; it was a five-story drop to a concrete sidewalk.

"The balcony door was open a few inches, as I expected; it was a warm night, and Dad didn't run the aircon unless it was really hot. The curtain was also open. We were on the top floor, across the street from a dark office building; no Peeping Toms to worry about, other than a fifteen-year-old daughter. I flattened myself against the wall and peeped around the corner.

"Both were nude. Mom was lying face-down on the bed, with pillows under her hips and a small red book in her hand. Dad stood next to the bed with a rattan cane. 'Read,' he commanded.

"She took a deep shaking breath and read from the book. 'The maid scorched one of your good white shirts with the iron. I threw it away and replaced it without your knowledge. For failing to supervise the maid, and for spending money without permission, I beg my husband for six stokes.'

"'Not enough. You will receive twelve; four on your back, four on the back of each of your thighs. I'm doing you a favor; your ass is already worn out.' I fact, her entire buttocks were a deep plum purple.

"Dad administered the strokes; slowly, methodically, viciously. Each one left a long red welt. Mom buried her face in a pillow to muffle her screams.

"He gave her a minute to recover. 'Read,' he commanded.

"Two days ago, I gave Sau Fong an extra five dollars for her lunch. The poor girl is so thin. I know it was wrong, since you dislike that child, but I was weak. I beg my husband for two strokes.'

"I would have forgiven it, but since you say you deserve two, you shall receive two, directly on your cunt. Roll over and spread your legs.

"And so it continued, for the next half hour or so. I was horrified. I was nauseated. I don't know how I got back into my bedroom. What I do know is, I didn't sleep the rest of the night." Lisa paused to wipe tears from her otherwise expressionless face.

"I finally figured out Dad's rules. The red book was a diary in which Mom wrote down all her perceived failings as a wife and mother, along with her estimate of the number of strokes that each failing deserved. If Dad agreed, he would administer the strokes. If he disagreed, he would double them. If he remembered some transgression that Mom had failed to record, he would give whatever number of strokes he though was appropriate.

"At one point in my own caning, I was saying 'Māmā, duìbùqǐ. Wǒ hěn bàoqiàn nǐ zāoshòule zhè.' That's "Mom, I'm sorry, I'm sorry you had to suffer this.'"

"That's the most fucked-up thing I've ever heard," Jimmy ventured from his perch on the desk.

"That's better than fucked up, that's a script," Gale said. "Anybody taking notes?"

"Shut the fuck up, Gale," Helen said, "Or we'll shoot that script with you in the starring role." To Lisa; "That's really bad, but I still don't understand today's scene."

"There's more," Lisa said. "The morning after he gave Mom that horrible caning, Dad was all sweetness and light. He ordered the maid to make pancakes for breakfast, Mom's favorite, and to take them up to her. That happened rarely; I came to understand that it occurred on mornings when Mom was too sore to get dressed. When I can home from school she was up and around but looking pale and drained. When Dad came home, he gave her a big hug - also unusual - and told her, in front of us kids, what a wonderful wife she was; 'So obedient, so hard-working, always trying so hard to make things perfect. You are the best wife any man could ever have.' And then he gave her a present; a diamond tennis bracelet. She looked at it, hugged him and wept. 'I love you, Husband,' she said. 'I'll always do anything I can to make you happy. Anything at all.'

"My brother also received extra love and rewards, at what seemed to be at random occasions, but actually on the days after Dad had buggered him or made him suck it. On one occasion he got an expensive watch; on another, a new laptop. Always lavish praise. Kin Wai accepted it; he needed his father's love. We all did."

"And you?" Doro asked.

"Never me. Never any abuse, never any love. I was a piece of furniture; something he walked around or pushed out of the way.

"The thing is, I was desperate for his love. So desperate, I would have welcomed the abuse. I fantasized about being whipped bloody, or sucking his cock, and then, just once, enjoying the warmth of his love. But it never happened." Tears rolled down Lisa's face.

"I still don't understand," Helen said. "You told us your father was dead."

"Yes, but I can still give him things." Lisa smiled, a ray of sunshine breaking through the rain. "Next week is Grave Sweeping Day. I'm flying home to Hong Kong, visiting father's tomb, and offering this video to him. I'll pray, burn joss, and put the thumb drive into the stove along with the other burnt offerings. Along with the paper computer, just to be sure he's able to see it."

"A thumb drive won't burn so good," Jimmy ventured.

"No, but it will melt to slag. The fire is fed with paper articles all day and the stove is always red-hot. The video will go to the spirit world."

"And then?"

"And then my dad will see and feel the pain and suffering and humiliation I suffered for him, for his sake, and it will make him happy, and he will love me. Remember before the final caning, the one I knew would break me, I was praying. I was saying, 'Fùqīn zhè shì gěi nǐ de.' Father, this is for you. 'Zhè shì wèi nǐ wánchéng de.' This done for you. 'Jiēshòu wǒ de tòngkǔ, ài wǒ.' Accept my suffering and love me. So when I join him in the spirit world, he will love me. He will finally love me." Lisa sniffled, and Doro handed her a tissue.

Doro and Helen sat on either side of Lisa on the sofa, holding her, comforting her. Jimmy and Gale stared at each other across the room, speechless; Jimmy was surprised to see tears standing in the domina's eyes. He reached for the computer mouse and clicked, stopping the recording.

"Why eight?" Gale asked. "Eight minutes oral, eight minutes anal, 88 strokes?"

"In Chinese, many words sound the same. The number 'eight' sounds like 'riches,' and is considered lucky. Eighty-eight is even more lucky."

"Not lucky for the girl getting that many strokes. Look, I've gotta ask. You're a modern woman. Do you really believe all this crap?"

"I'm not sure. I just know my relationship with my dad, back when I was a child, is something that's plagued me my whole life long. I needed to do something to fix it. Or something that would, at least, hold out the possibility of fixing it.

"Or maybe that's just a rationalization. Maybe I'm just a seriously fucked up bitch who needs new, intense experiences. Maybe a little of both."

"Or maybe a lot of both," Gale said. "Believe me, I understand fucked up."

The storm was over, and Lisa was on her feet, leaning on Doro's arm. "Let's get you dressed," Doro said. "I want to take another look at you, maybe put on a light dressing. Jimmy, do you have the product?"

Jimmy handed Doro a thumb drive. "I put the bit we just recorded into the folder as a file labeled 'Exit Interview.' The drive is password protected. The password is 'broccoli.'"