Liar Liar

82

She couldn’t breathe now. The blows were raining down on her, faster and faster, depriving her of the time to recover and robbing her of oxygen.

‘Stop.’

It came out as no more than a whisper – that was all she could muster. Max Paine raised the paddle and brought it down again. Helen’s whole body swung forward with the impact, her chest crunching into the wall.

‘STOP!’ she repeated, finding the breath from somewhere to raise her volume.

‘You don’t want me to stop,’ Max called back, delivering another duo of heavy blows.

This had stopped being enjoyable some time ago. Helen had come here for relief but had found none and their encounter was now turning into a beating.

‘Stop right now,’ she gasped.

‘Beg me,’ he replied aggressively. ‘Beg me to stop.’

‘I want you to stop.’

‘BEG ME!’ he screamed, raising the paddle threateningly.

‘Release,’ Helen finally gasped. This was their code word for a full cessation of their session. In a pursuit where consent can be a grey area, where people sometimes protest in the hope of incurring more punishment, it was vital to have a code word that would bring proceedings to a sudden close. It was standard practice in any S &M scenario and Helen was glad to have uttered it.

The next blow caught her completely by surprise and she cannoned into the wall at speed.

‘Release,’ she cried as she rebounded, but another blow caught her between the shoulder blades. She looked up just as he brought the paddle down again and was horrified to see that Max had no intention of stopping. He looked like he was enjoying himself.

Helen lurched to the left, but she was still shackled to the wall and the blow connected as it glanced off her, jarring her rib cage. Helen tugged hard at the shackles, suddenly alive to the danger she was in.

‘Stop, God damn y-’

The next blow cut her off. She tugged harder – her body was slumping now under the weight of the blows and she wasn’t sure how long she could go on. She had already taken terrible punishment.

As the next blow descended, her right arm suddenly came free. A split second before the paddle landed, she flung her elbow backwards. It connected sharply with Max’s chin. Stunned, he rocked for a moment, then stumbled forward. With one hand still tethered, Helen’s options were limited, but she twisted quickly, ramming her knee into his groin. It struck home and he collapsed to the floor gasping. Helen tugged her other hand free now and before she knew it was holding his discarded paddle. Max was trying to rise now and Helen was quickly upon him, bringing her weapon down hard on the back of his neck. He slumped once more but Helen’s blood was up and she hit him once, twice, a third time. Still he wouldn’t lie down, so she hit him again and again.

Helen swung freely, driven by anger and fear, determined to break this man who’d tried to hurt her. But as she raised her hand to strike him again, a strange noise startled her. Something familiar, but strange. Something unexpected and oddly jaunty. It was a ring tone – her ring tone. She must have forgotten to turn her phone off.

The phone rang on, bringing her to her senses. Dropping the paddle like a hot coal, she ran to her clothes, tugging them on roughly as she answered the phone.

‘Yes?’ Her voice was cracked and weak.

‘It’s Sanderson, boss. We’ve got three more fires.’

Helen’s head spun. Could this be happening?

‘Text me the details,’ she replied and rang off. Seconds later, she was out of the door. Max Paine lay on the floor where she left him, silent and still.