Women with the Whip Hand

Chapter One-2

“It was a lovely massage. I feel so much better. It would have cost me a fortune in Soho.”

Her expression froze and she met my eyes with an icy stare.

“What do you mean, Mr. Wilson?”

“Nothing…it was a silly thing to say…I’m sorry.”

Suddenly my face was stinging from a haymaker of a blow across my face, half slap and half punch.

“Are you comparing me to a prostitute?”

“No, of course not.”

“Whores operate in Soho, yes?”

“Yes, but I didn’t mean…”

“What didn’t you mean?”

“I didn’t mean you were like them.”

“I think you did. Is that how you see me? Do you think I’ve been sent here to provide you with s*x? Is that why your d**k is like that?”

“Zusa I don’t think of you in that way. You are a qualified nurse and that’s why you’re here.”

“Qualified, yes.”

“I know, I’m so sorry.”

“If I report what you said I will be withdrawn and you will have to have a man to look after you.”

“I don’t want a man. I want you. Please Zusa…”

“And if I tell your English tabloid newspapers that you made advances to me…”

“I didn’t make advances…”

“Well if you’re not even going to admit what you said…”

“Ok. I admit what I said was out of order.”

“You will write me an apology, yes…or better still make a video?”

“Is that really necessary?”

“I think it is.”

“Ok, Zusa. I’ll make a video.”

All I got for breakfast that day was a bowl of cereal which Zusa pushed into my lap when I was back in my wheel chair dressed in t-shirt and shorts. My lunch consisted of a slice of toast smeared with peanut butter.

***

The next day started with the enema Zusa had promised, or rather threatened, looking at it from my point of view.

I was back in the bathroom lying on towels ‘in case of leakage’ as Zusa put it. It was very difficult for me with one leg in plaster and unable to bend it.

She had me lying naked on my left side and unable to bend my right knee. Nevertheless she forced about six inches of tubing into my rectum after lubricating the end.

“Two liters of Aloe Vera,” she said as the warm water began to flow into my colon.

I had a very uncomfortable feeling as the liquid entered me and almost immediately I experienced painful cramps.

I fancy she was she punishing me for what I’d said the day before because she let the liquid flow quite swiftly rather than slowly as happened the one time I’d had enema in hospital. I soon had that full to bursting feeling.

When the bag was empty instead of withdrawing the tube gently she pulled it out sharply which hurt considerably; clearly she thought I had not been punished enough.

When I struggled to get to my feet I wondered if Zusa would help me at all or leave me to defecate on the towels.

But whether out of pity for my parlous state or concern for the pristine white towels she finally helped me up and took my arm to help me sit on the toilet.

I evacuated moments later in a long noisy gush but I knew there was more to come.

The cramps were dreadful but my grimaces brought only smiles from Zusa.

Imagine my horror when she told me to get down on the towels for a second enema.

“I want to make sure you’re completely clean,” she said.

“Oh no, please don’t,” I begged. ‘I will be a good patient, I promise. The best patient you’ve had.”

She simply ignored my pleadings.

Feeling weak and groggy from my first ordeal, I had to ease myself from the toilet seat and, with a little help from Zusa, stretch out again in the required position.

The whole process was repeated but I think she put something more caustic in the water as I experienced a most unpleasant burning sensation.

Despite moving my bowels so recently when I got back on the toilet there was a further torrent of almost totally liquefied faeces.

I felt so weak and nauseous that I thought I might pass out there and then.

Zusa stood over me with hands on hips without a flicker of concern or sympathy on her face.

“You smell disgusting!” was her only comment.

***

After another breakfast of cereal I was made to sit down and write out words dictated by Zusa, a confession in which I admitted accusing Zusa of being a woman of loose morals and of making s****l advances. The latter was based on my remark about getting into the shower with her and the fact that I had an erection after ‘insisting I wanted to be naked.”

The idea was that I spoke these words into a video camera and Zusa would send the tape to newspaper and gossip magazine editors and to my club if I didn’t co-operate.

I was so scared I went along with her plan.

I was also made to hand my credit cards and chequebook to Zusa and provide specimens of my signature. I thought of disguising my signature but it was obvious how I signed my name from glancing at the credit card.

I had just completed these tasks when there was a knock on the door which was answered by Zusa.

“Come in Ulryk,”

A man about Zusa’s age came into the room, carrying a case, and took a look at me sitting in my wheel chair.

“He doesn’t look so arrogant now.” His accent was like Zusa’s but not so thick. ‘When he last played against our team he deliberately provoked our supporters.”

I wondered if this was Zusa’s brother who liked football but he was supposed to be a fan of my team and he was supposed to be back in their homeland- wherever that was.

Perhaps Zusa saw my puzzled expression because she said, ‘I don’t have a brother. This is my husband who loathes your team and you in particular.”

Ulryk came closer, grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back and then delivering a punch to my chin. Then he punched me in the stomach.

“You are a cheating bastard,” he said. ‘You pretend to be injured to win a penalty against us. I was so glad to hear you’d broken your leg. It’s what you deserve.”

Husband and wife got into a huddle to discuss something and I could only surmise the result would not be to my advantage.

They opened the case Ulryk had brought and produced handcuffs and fetters, rope, mask, rubber suit, canes and whips: a hoard of S & M clothing and paraphernalia.

What was it all about?

Was I to be punished simply on account of the football team I played for and my alleged misdemeanors on the field?

The idea was preposterous.

So were the events that followed.

Ulryk and Zusa stripped the sheets from my bed and pulled off the mattress to expose the springs.

After forcing me to undress, I was made to lie spread eagled on the bare frame with the springs digging into my back. Next they forced me into a black rubber suit with a number of zips; the suit also had a headpiece with a zip for the mouth. They found my leg in plaster difficult to manage since the rubber clung so tightly, molding itself to my figure.

They then secured my arms and legs with ropes.

I was in total darkness and completely disoriented.

The next thing I knew, the zip at my mouth was opened and I had the taste of a woman’s p***y in my mouth and, almost simultaneously, felt weight bear down on my head.

I surmised Zusa was sitting on my face.

This was followed by a feeling of cool air at my loins and imagined a zip had also been opened there. Then someone’s fingers pulled my c**k confirming what I’d thought was happening.

I immediately went to work with my tongue expecting the worst if I didn’t perform to Zusa’s satisfaction as I’d seen the instruments of punishment lying on the bed. Her cunt was juicy and her taste was strong (I doubted she’d showered that morning).

I tried long licks on her outer lips as well as making my tongue as hard as possible to simulate a small p***s thrusting in and out. I felt her wriggle and squirm with pleasure.

Then suddenly I winced feeling sudden and extreme pain in my c**k.

Someone, Ulryk presumably, was tying what felt like thin string or twine round my c**k and balls, and periodically, knotting the twine very tightly. When this was done the zip was closed around my c**k so it stood proud. I had a fancy a long line was created so that my captors could be virtually anywhere in the apartment and still be able to jerk my c**k.

When Zusa had her first orgasm she squirted so much juice I nearly choked; it was the first of many that made her judder and shake and press down even harder, grinding her pelvis and chafing and bruising my lips.

Although I was frankly scared by what was happening, realizing the interlopers had the power to take over my apartment and virtually my life, I was strangely excited by being forced to service Zusa.

From the moment she’d begun to behave in this very assertive and dominant manner I had found myself responding not just with an almost perpetual erection but emotionally as well. Of course one was intertwined with the other. It was because I responded emotionally and psychologically that I got such a hard-on.

She was magnificent in her detached imperiousness, her coldness towards me, so dismissive and disdainful. And how disrespectful she was towards her husband forcing me to give her c*********s right in front of him! I could only believe this was by mutual agreement, that they had a so-called open marriage that allowed both partners to have fun with other people.

I had never been with a woman like Zusa and she seemed to be tapping into something quite deep in my personality.

I had never seen myself as the kind of man who likes ‘the Miss Whiplash’ type of woman. I thought I liked to take the initiative with a girl, take and keep control, dictate the pace, make decisions. Perhaps I’d never read myself accurately.

***

As time passed I continued to be almost starved of food.

Occasionally the mouth zip would be opened and something fed to me via a funnel. It was always some mashed up cereal, bran or oats, sometimes in the form of porridge.

When they gave me opportunity to pass water, they pulled me over on my side and unzipped my c**k so that I could pee into a jar.

Zusa continued to give me enemas but I had to s**t into a chamber pot as they never took me to the toilet; in truth I had little in my bowels to evacuate.

From hearing their voices it was clear that Zusa and Ulryk were now enjoying living in my apartment. Sometimes one or other would go out for some reason, probably shopping, and leave the other to guard me.

When Zusa left, a strange thing happened.

Ulryk turned me over onto my tummy and unzipped my ass.

Then I felt him pushing his c**k into my anus.

He was obviously taking advantage of Zusa’s absence to indulge in a practice she knew nothing about.

My rectum was sore from my repeated enemas and it hurt when he penetrated me. I was also very dry and he used no lubricant, not even spit. He seemed almost as merciless as his wife although my feeling was that he deferred to Zusa and she decided things if they were in doubt or there was a difference of opinion.

Because of my leg in plaster I was not able to kneel or open my legs to accommodate his d**k.

So his thrusts were a little inhibited.

He put his hands there and pulled my cheeks apart so he could bury his c**k up to the hilt and f**k me with a slow steady rhythm.

I lay there imagining what my teammates would think if they could see me in this situation, being f****d up the ass. Among professional footballers being gay was not accepted as it is these days by most enlightened people. A macho culture prevailed which meant the worst thing you could be called was a faggot or a puff or one of the many other derogatory terms for a homosexual.