Whipped wife

CHAPTER FIVE

"Help me! Help me!" Jennie moaned.

"What in God's name's happened to you?" Diane asked, running up to her and unfastening the leather straps that held her arms down tightly to her sides.

"You were right. Oh God, you were right," the girl groaned as she rubbed her sore wrists together.

"He got tired of me and did this," the girl said, motioning to her slashed legs and arms. Large, ugly red gashes and welts covered her body. Her face was bruised and swollen. And what was particularly sickening to Diane was the blood that oozed out from between her cunt lips.

"You've got to get to a hospital," Diane grunted as she put an arm around Jennie's waist and helped her off the table.

"No! Some of them are in it too," the girl protested weakly.

"What do you mean?" Diane asked, pulling the girl out of the room and into the larger chamber. She placed her gently on a high-backed metal chair.

"They're all in on it. You'd be surprised how many men and women on this campus dig this kind of thing," Jennie said in a low moan as she looked up helplessly at Diane.

"You mean there's more than just my husband involved?" Diane asked in disbelief.

Jennie stared at the blonde for a second, then burst out helplessly into loud laughter.

"Oh God, if you only knew. The Dean of Women, half the Fine Arts faculty, almost the whole English Department – the list goes on, not to mention the students," Jennie confessed. "And I'm sorry about that night," the girl apologized hesitatingly.

"It's all right," Diane said, wincing mentally as she thought briefly about what had happened to her.

"No, it's not all right. I was really into that scene – and probably would've still been tripping out on it if your husband hadn't done this to me," the girl said, breaking down again.

"Come on. We've got to get out of here," Diane said, realizing that if Jennie were left down here like this, someone must be coming back shortly to finish off what he'd started.

"How many men did this to you?" Diane asked, pulling her trench coat off and wrapping the naked girl in it.

"It all happened so fast. Your husband, Professor Art Dickenson, Doctor Eisenberg – ohhh, I can't remember. I really can't remember," the girl said in a high-pitched, strained voice.

"All right, all right. Let's just get out of here," Diane said, helping the girl up out of the chair and heading toward the stairway.

"That's really touching!" Matt's voice rang out in the chamber.

Diane's blood froze in her veins as she found herself staring at her husband's angry face. Jennie let out a low moan and sank to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably as the big man stepped down slowly to the floor. Behind him were three other men. The first was taller than Matt – about six-four – with black, curly hair that seemed to point in every direction. His eyes gleamed evilly under his bushy eyebrows as he stared at the two cringing women.

The second man was older, about forty-five and had long, silver hair. Still ruggedly handsome, there was an air of complete degeneracy about him as he moved behind Matt and stared at Diane and Jennie.

The last man to enter the room could have been Diane's younger brother. The blonde guessed that he was a student in one of Matt's classes. He had long blond hair that hung down to his broad shoulders. His broad, tanned face was slightly pink, and he smelled strongly of after-shave lotion. Patches of light body hair poked over the top of his clean white T-shirt. Both the undershirt and his faded bell-bottomed Levi's were stretched tightly over his muscular frame.

"I guess Jennie's been filling you in on what's been going on," Matt said, shaking his head slowly back and forth.

"Just let us go," Diane finally said, knowing how foolish her words must sound.

Matt stared mockingly at her, then moved to one side to let the other men by.

"This is where it all starts," Matt said seriously. "And it's here where it all ends." His face looked dark and gloomy. Diane felt herself growing faint as her husband's final words rang in her ears.

"What are you going to do?" Jennie said in a small voice.

Matt didn't say a word. Turning to his right, he walked over to one of the dressers that lined the wall and pulled a ring of keys from his pocket.

"The problem with most women is that they're completely disobedient to their husbands and masters," Matt said in an even voice. "I'm just trying to even out the situation, that's all."

"Oh please, not again!" Jennie wailed, leaning against Diane's trembling legs and staring with horror as Matt took out one key from the pile and opened the door to the cabinet. Diane stared with horrified fascination as she saw a collection of whips and riding crops.

"I just use what the Spanish Inquisition called disciplina," Matt said matter-of-factly, taking something from a hook on the inside of the door. Diane soon realized that it was a whip. It was nearly two and a half feet long from the end of the handle to the tip. The handle itself was made of black ebony, ringed with silver bands and marked with some kind of crest at the bottom of the handle. The grip piece was about nine inches long, tapering from about an inch diameter at the end to half an inch where it joined the whip itself. That was made of plaited leather, woven over a center core of thin, flexible spring-steel rod. It tapered down from the handle almost to a point at the end.

Matt held the whip in his right hand and slowly walked over to the still-kneeling Jennie.

"We both know what happens to people who disobey, don't we, Jennie?" Matt asked in a low-pitched, threatening voice that trembled with emotion.

"Oh God, no, not that one! Please, not that one!" the girl begged, almost laughing hysterically as her eyes bulged out with terror.

"Matt, you're crazy. I won't let you touch this girl!" Diane said protectively, dropping down to her knees and putting her arms tightly around Jennie's shuddering shoulders.

"Nice to know there's still friendship around," Matt said mockingly, raising his foot quickly and bringing the heel of his black boot down across Diane's right cheek.

"Ohhh!" the blonde cried out, crashing backward on the floor. Diane was dazed for several seconds. Her brain buzzed with the pain and a collection of what seemed like shouts and screams.

When she focused her mind again, the blonde saw that the young blond boy whose name she found out was Chris and the tall dark-haired man whose name was Art Dickenson were holding Jennie by either arm. They'd stripped off the trench coat and were holding her in such a position that her body bowed outward gracefully. Matt slowly brought the whip close to her body, until he traced a line from her welted shoulder blades with the tip down to her butt cheeks. He moved it down to her inner thighs, then down to her trembling knees, obviously enjoying the mute horror he was giving the struggling girl. Jennie stared at the whip, her eyes wide and her mouth dry with terror. Diane could see the girl trembling as the terrible thing moved across her thighs again, finally resting on her pussy.

"Please, Matt. Don't please," Jennie pleaded, trying to force a weak, submissive smile on her face.

"It all begins here," Matt said mysteriously, looking at her sore, bleeding pussy. "It all ends here too," he murmured, repeating the words he had said several minutes ago.

Diane shuddered as she watched them. The girl had obviously been beaten around the snatch area earlier. He'd kill her if he did the same thing again. "Don't, you animal!" Diane hissed as Matt raised his right arm, obviously getting ready to flog the moaning Jennie again.

"All right, baby. If you're so anxious to save her, you take her place," Matt said, nodding to both Art and Chris to fetch her. The two men let go of the girl, moving quickly toward Diane, who was trying to scramble to her feet.

"No, you bastards!" Diane hissed through her tightly clenched teeth as the two men grabbed her by the wrists and pinned her arms tightly to her back. Jennie had fallen helplessly to the floor, kicked unconscious by Matt while his two henchmen were dragging Diane toward the center of the brightly-lit underground chamber.

"You'll be whipped tonight. But not unprotected. I want to save you for a lot more than she got," Matt said, turning around and landing another hard kick into the girl's back.

"Want the leather shit out, Matt?" the silver-haired man asked as he moved toward a dark wood cabinet at the other end of the room.

"Yeah, might as well. Strip her down," Matt ordered, stepping back and crossing his arms over his broad chest as he tapped the end of his whip against the toe of his left boot.

Diane fought the men, but without any success. Their strong hands tore at her blouse, ripping the cotton material open as if it were paper and stripping that article of clothing off in seconds. Art dug his big fingers behind the strap of her bra and yanked down, snatching the halter off in a second and sending her thunderous boobs down on her chest.

Chris worked on her skirt, unzipping it and pulling it down with her pink sheer panties. He dropped to his knees, pressing his thick, sensuous lips to her ass and sucking on her bunghole while he ripped open her garter belt and peeled off her nylons. Diane arched her body forward, trying to pull away from that shit hole-probing tongue. But Art held her tightly by the other arm while Chris still had a firm grip on her legs. And then there was Matt, jabbing the end of the whip hard against her belly button.

"Here you go," the silver-haired man said, throwing a pile of something down in front of Diane.

"What is it?" the blonde asked, looking curiously at the clump of black, shiny material.

"Your new winter coat," Matt said, laughing mockingly as he kicked it against the woman's legs with his boot. "Now get it on!"

"I-I don't know how," Diane stammered, reaching down with both hands as Chris and Art let her go. Diane could feel that the lining was rubber that had been heavily doused with talc to make it slide on more easily. The blonde held up a pair of leather pants, wondering how to get into them as Matt stood spread-legged in front of her, watching quietly.

"Put them on," he said in a threatening voice.

Diane inhaled sharply, then raised her right leg and stepped into the trousers. Art held up the top of the leather suit and smiled with delight as he looked through the rows of eyelets. Diane glanced over her shoulder as she finished climbing into the restraining pants and saw them too. She had an idea that she was going to be wearing a kind of portable Iron Maiden.

"Okay, now the tops," Matt said, nodding to Art to help her.

Diane felt her body tremble as the top portion of the suit was put on her. She could feel some kind of hard, inner skeletal structure that was sewn into the suit pressing against her flesh as Art slid the jacket over her arms and pulled it tightly over her shoulders. Chris brought up the laces and started inserting them into the eyelets. Diane didn't move a muscle as they finished closing up the back of her restraining suit. She couldn't believe that something like this was happening. It was as if she were living through the plot of an old gothic novel.

"Ohhh!" Diane groaned as she felt her waist under compression from the rigid and tightly pulled corset-like top of her suit. With a lot of effort, Chris pulled the laces as tight as he could and tied them so that she could breathe only in pants.

With shorter laces, the student drew in the sleeves until the rubber-lined leather gripped her hard.

"And try this, baby," Matt said, holding out a high, stiff-boned leather collar that he gave to Chris. Diane's eyes opened even wider as she felt that collar pulled tightly around her neck, restricting the already shallow breathing that had been forced on her.

"Look at those labes," Matt said to his cronies as he trailed the tip of his whip across her cunt.

"Looks like they're ready for a good fucking," Chris said, moving around to the front and staring at Diane's exposed cunt lips. The trousers were cut away in back and front. Because they were so tight, her snatch and ass protruded out beyond the confines of the restraining pants.

"Hot and red," Matt said, chuckling as he played with the frazzled pussy hairs.

Diane stifled a groan of disgust. The tight lacing had forced blood down into her groin, producing a straight kind of exciting tingle between her legs. Even as the leather bit into her flesh and the blood poured and packed down into her snatch, the blonde was beginning to enjoy at least a part of this.

"And now, the whip," Matt said, grinning savagely as Chris and Art pulled Diane's hands behind her and tied them tightly together. They whirled her around, exposing her bare butt to her husband.

"Oh God, God!" Diane moaned as every muscle in her body tensed for the first blow. The wait seemed endless. Then there was the sound of leather whistling through air, and the blonde knew that pain was only a few seconds away.

"Arrrghhh!" she groaned, her body lurching forward as the whip tip sliced into her bare butt. Art and Chris caught her, holding her tightly from the front as Matt raised his arm again for another blow.

Diane screamed and screamed as one blow followed another until the sound was one continuous moan. Her body was on fire as every muscle ached from the physical tension. She lost count after the first two or three cuts of the savage whip. From that time on, all Diane could think of was the sound of that whistling whip and the sharp "crack" of its slicing into her quivering ass-flesh.

"She's better than most," Chris commented as Matt stopped the flogging and caught his breath.

"She'll last for a while," the big man said, wiping the sweat off his forehead. Then he stopped and reached forward, putting a hand on her head and yanking back. Diane choked out a muffled scream. Wearing the tight-boned collar, the blonde was almost choked by that movement.

"Keep on screaming, bitch!" Matt growled as he let go, then started flogging her again.

"Ahhh! Arrghhh! Ohhh!" Diane cried over and over as the lash sliced into her. Her body jerked and bucked with each attack while her screams turned into low moans of agonized exhaustion. She couldn't take much more, and she couldn't react to the pain ripping her ass apart. Slowly, the woman felt herself sinking into blessed unconsciousness. She didn't care what happened now. The room spun around and she felt her legs and arms grow heavier.

"I think she's had enough," Chris commented as he struggled to keep her standing.

"Yeah!" Art panted, yanking up on her right arm as Diane's head hung limply down.

"All good things have to come to an end, I guess," Matt grumbled, throwing down the whip and walking up to his wife.

"You bastard!" Diane cursed, looking at him and spitting into his face.

"Bitch!" Matt said, reaching back with his right hand as if he were about to strike her.

Diane closed her eyes and winced, waiting for the blow that would send her reeling off into unconsciousness. When it didn't come, she opened her eyes and saw Matt sneering at her.

"Stuff her mouth! I think I hear Norm bringing down another girl," Matt said in a hoarse whisper.

Diane didn't get a chance to ask him what he meant. Art shoved a foul-tasting leather gag in her mouth, then hauled her across the room as the other men flattened themselves against the wall. The unconscious Jennie lay quietly behind one of the tables, her steady shallow breathing barely audible as Diane heard the upstairs door opening.

"But what's down here, Professor?" a young girl's voice filled the room.

"The new anatomy lab. You'll have to get your specimens from there for dissection tomorrow," a low, male voice said as the sounds of feet on the wooden steps filled the chamber. Diane wished she could howl out a warning to the girl. It was another victim for this little bit of depravity.

"Funny. I don't see anything except all these tables," the girl said, reaching the bottom of the stairs.

Turn around! Turn around and see me! Diane screamed to herself as she felt Chris' muscular arms holding her tightly to him. That girl still had a chance. No one was behind her. She could still have a break for it. Then there was the sound of the door closing and more footsteps on the stairs. Too late! Diane thought as she saw the young freshmen girl slowly turn around and look at the small group.

"Oh my God!" the girl cried out and backed away as her eyes widened in disbelieving horror.

"Get her!" Matt cried out, running toward the screaming girl.

"No! No!" she cried, ducking behind one of the tables as the men jumped for her. Diane watched helplessly as the pretty, petite brunette ran back and forth, dodging for a while every attempt to corner and catch her. She looked like a tiny, helpless mouse desperately trying to escape from four hungry cats. The men yelled and laughed to one another as they overturned chairs and finally pushed the table away.

"Her name's Annette Grossman," Dr. Norman Eisenberg said as he watched the girl wrestled dawn to the floor. "I've been watching her ever since she matriculated into my class. I want first crack at her," he said, sneering as Chris and Art tore off the shrieking girl's blue pullover and faded jeans. Her white, creamy skin glowed as if it were painted with phosphorescent paint as the tall, blond biology professor pulled his leather belt off his trousers while Matt and Chris rolled her over on her ass. "Let her go," he panted.

Annette was stunned by the sudden release and lay quietly on her back for a second. Had she scrambled to her feet, she might have escaped. But it was too late now.