"You are forgetting Hyde, the other night," he reminds her.
"You watched!" she says horrified. "Through that window of yours. While he used the tawse and the cane on me."
"Yes, and I recall the look of longing on your face, although you may not have recognized the need. I felt great pity for you, Meg. Hyde, in his sinister manner, only gave you a taste and you had to watch while all the other ladies received his favors."
Meg blushes scarlet. Gabe decides he likes the look of shyness on her face. He also wonders if the color can be duplicated on her bottom and back and decides that will be his goal.
He raises the half dozen switches. He has learned a great deal from his wife over the years. Foreplay is everything. The birches cut the air loudly several times so that her ears may prepare her for just what is to follow. But soon the bouquet kisses her back. Meg cries out like a virgin, a long, high soprano note.
"That song pleases me, Wife. And you know how I so enjoy excess. I will be pleased even more to hear it sung throughout the night. Proceed!"
"Oh, Gabe!" she cries, as he birches her jiggling bottom.
He expected she will soon learn that she, too, enjoys excess.
Chapter Twenty-Three"Touching," I sneer at Jekyll. Only then does the physician realize that he is no longer in charge here.
Ursula, in a blissful state, is collapsed in my arms and unaware a change has occurred.
I locate my face mask in Jekyll's bag and pull it over my head. The gloves were left at the laboratory and I shall have to live with that. There is the martinet, though, and I hook him to the leather belt. The whip falls across Ursula's hands and she opens her violet eyes. Once they see me, they widen in surprise.
"Master Hyde! Have I been with you all along, then. Have I been dreaming?"
"Not a dream, my love, but I have been with you from the start."
How dare you! Jekyll screams in my ear. But his time is up. His ejaculations of the night have relaxed him and released me. Fool that he is, it never occurred to him that such has been the case all along. For I grow strong as he grows weak, and vice versa. And now that he realizes this, it is too late.
Ursula's tits are the dark red of the roses I left her. They need further attention, and my lips accommodate one and my fingers the other.
Soon she is again squirming and writhing, but this time on my lap, not Jekyll's. I tease and torture each until she cries out, "Oh, Master Hyde. I cannot bear more! This torment is exquisite!"
"Then bear more you shall!" I say, and bite and twist each nipple until she convulses into fulfillment.
Jekyll's idea is a good one: stab this virgin with my fleshy sword and the piercing is the proof of ownership.
You are dastardly! he shouts, and I laugh.
Ursula's hands caress my hands, then my face and the leather hide covering it. "Master Hyde, shall I never see beneath this animal skin to the beauty of the real man?"
"Perhaps, in time, my love. For now it is enough that you know to whom you belong and that your one true Master is me. Say it now!"
Her violet eyes are dreamy, soft and inviting, as she stares into mine. Her hand falls to my genitals. My cock and balls grow heavy. "Master Hyde, I belong only to you."
These are the words I want to hear.
Jekyll yells at the top of his lungs one word, No! But his impotence must now be clear to him. I will have Ursula, this very night. And it is him I must thank for the idea.
His medical bag contains the tool I seek, a surgical saw, strong enough to cut through bone. It should cut through the metal of Meg's chastity belt.
I place her over the edge of the stage again, her crimson fanny up. Despite my annoyance with Meg Utterson, I find I must admire her work. The woman has perseverance and fortitude, qualities necessary to maintain control.
The metal is solid and the saw carves into it very slowly.
The work requires great care, for I do not wish to injure Ursula. For were the blade to slip, the teeth might cut her backbone.
Jekyll is beside himself. Once he realizes he cannot dissuade me, he directs my every step, as if his medical knowledge is not a part of my experience also and I would do a poor job of it.
While I work I think how unfortunate it is, that he and I share the same physique. Had we been strangers, there is much about Henry I might prize. He is, in his own way, a Master. I am impressed by how he used the clamps on Ursula, and the manner in which he took her earlier today at his laboratory. I cannot call him all bad, and that is lamentable. It is far easier to dispose of an enemy who has no potential to be called friend, not that I call any friend.
The minutes tick by and hours pass before the metal is weakened enough that I can twist and bend it in hopes that it will snap. Ursula is distressed. My manipulation of the metal puts pressure in other spots. She knows, however, that it is for the best. Finally I am able to work the metal enough that it snaps. With great care I pry and twist it out of harm's way. At last, my dear one's virgin cunt is available to me.
"Before I pierce you, Ursula, I wish a sign that will alert the world that you are mine."
"I give you my maidenhead, Master Hyde, of my own free will."
"Yes, and that I shall take, as is my right as your husband and Master. But there is one other thing I require. An act of such complete submission that only the one who is worthy of me will be able to suffer it."
She turns her head from her position on the stage. Her large eyes stare at me with such innocence. "Whatever is required, Master Hyde, I will suffer it and more."
"And you will suffer more than ever you imagined. I wish to mark you. A permanent mark which tells all the world to whom you belong. Both men and women will be stopped by this sign, for it is the symbol of Hyde and none dare take you. Can you suffer this, Ursula? Think carefully before you answer, for the result will be permanent and your answer is a commitment."
She pauses but a moment. "I shall submit my will to yours, Master, out of love for you."
I kiss her sweet lips. My tongue enters her mouth, tasting the essence of those submissive words.
I find in Henry's bag a soft ball made of gum, used for patients in surgery. This I place within her mouth. I fold a scarf and tie it round her eyes.
"The pain will be very nearly unbearable," I warn her.
"Bite down on this when that is so. You will feel a desire to flee but I tell you now, Ursula, if you do so, you will lose me."
Her throat fills with fear of the unknown tortures of which I speak as little sounds spring from her. I know that were she to lose me, it would be worse.
"I can tie you down, if you prefer. It will make it easier."
She shakes her head at this, as though I have offended her.
I use two cushions to lift her bottom higher and when that is done unhook the martinet from my belt.
Henry screams impotently. I feel him struggle to regain power, but he is spent and I am not, although once I have pierced Ursula's hymen, I too shall be. But by then it will be over and she will be mine.
"This whip will cut through your skin and muscle as if it were cheese," I tell her, for she must brace herself for what will come.
Her body trembles.
"You must struggle to stay awake, Ursula. I must cut you four times."
Her body is clearly terrified by the idea and yet she shakes her head yes, that she understands and agrees.
I take a position behind her. Her bottom is, fortunately, all one color, or it would throw off my aim. I decide to cut the left cheek first. The tail of this whip, although I've never used it, should slice three inches deep at most. I focus on the swell of the cheek, about half way from top to bottom, and estimate about an inch and a half from her crack to the left.
I swing my arm. The martinet cutting the air with a tense, fierce sound that causes Ursula to tremble uncontrollably. This I do not to frighten her but to limber up my arm, stiff from the sawing. My aim must be perfect. Even Henry acknowledges this and has the int
elligence to be silent so as not to distract me.
She apparently gets used to the sound, savage as it is, and her trembling subsides somewhat. It is then, when she relaxes, that I strike.
I circle the whip above my head and bring it down hard on the chosen spot.
Instantly her body leaps into the air and her scream is so forceful it thrusts the ball from her mouth. A line of blood three inches long springs from top to bottom down her left cheek, at the apex.
I clutch Ursula, who is still screaming, to me. Her body convulses. I kiss her passionately, violently. Her mouth opens to mine, as if needing to be possessed. My cock is swollen and I let her suck him. This calms her; she draws strength from me in that way until her agony subsides enough to continue.
Her face is awash in tears that seem as if they will flow forever. But we do not have forever. The time grows short and we must finish before we are interrupted.
I replace the cushions under her and take a position behind. Again, I snap the whip in the air to limber myself up while gauging the measurements for my next cut.
Ursula's body is out of control. She could no more cease quaking than she could cease breathing. And I cannot ask it of her. She cries pathetically and I am forced to ask her, "Do you wish to continue?"
"Oh yes, Master," she says, filling my heart with joy.
I bring the whip down hard onto her right cheek. Ursula thrashes about, her voice nearly gone from shrieking. But I have managed another vertical blood line, parallel to the first.
The cuts are wide and deep. They bleed heavily and will make fine scars. I rummage in Henry's bag until I locate material to absorb the blood.
Henry is unnaturally quiet, as though he is entranced with the goings on. I had expected a resistance from him and yet I feel he understands the need for such actions.
Again I give Ursula my cock for comfort and again it provides her with a temporary palliative. When she is as calm as she can be under the circumstances, I prop her up again.
This time I take a position to her left. The shorter line I wish to draw will go from the middle of the mark on her right cheek horizontally to her crack. It will act as an arrow, in a manner of speaking, saying to all that what lies here belongs to Hyde.
Ursula cannot be comforted now and there is nothing to do but finish. I swing the whip, carefully drawing the line in my mind's eye, and when the moment feels right, I swing.
The leather cuts the air just before it slices her flesh.
I marvel that she has not fainted. Her face, though, is pale, her eyes glazed. She sucks my cock like a baby at a nipple. I stroke her hair and whisper in her ear that in a moment this will be over and then I can rend the fabric that keeps her a child and make her a woman. "One more, my love, then you will belong to me."
Once I have repositioned her, stemmed the bloody tide as best I can and taken a place to her right, I work the whip until my arm loosens. The final cut is opposite the last one. It will run from the middle of the line down her left cheek to her crack, meeting the other horizontal line. My aim is sure and the whip slices clean and on target. Ursula convulses into a faint. And I cannot blame the darling. For she has suffered greatly, as no other has suffered under my hand, which only convinces me that I have her heart forever and no one will come between us.
Her cheeks are a sea of red and I cannot see my imprint. The 'H' I have marked her with stands for the name of her Master.
I decide to revive her so that we may together know the joy of that moment of first viewing this mark of ownership. And I want her awake while I shatter the final barrier.
In Henry's bag I find the smelling salts and am just about to pass them under her nose.
"Hyde!"
I turn. It is Alan Wilcox.
Before I can take a proper position, he is on me. He knocks me to the ground and we wrestle. His fist finds my jaw.
This only brings me to my senses fast.
He is a large man and determined, but I am the more determined because I have more at stake.
I get him face down and sit on his hips, pinning his arm painfully behind his back so that he cannot escape. He slams his free fist against my side, but I yank his arm higher behind his back and he soon ceases that nonsense. He pounds the floor with his free fist and struggles to flip me, but my weight keeps him down.
"You are diabolical, Hyde!"
"Am I indeed, Inspector? And is your wife not more receptive to your desires, now that you remember what they are?"
"My wife's passions are not your concern."
"But they were, Wilcox. And she is a passionate woman. I have returned her to you and you to her. And for this do you thank me? No. You hunt me down like an animal."
"You are an animal. You've brought so many to their knees. Hastie, for example."
"Lanyon enjoyed being on his knees, as I'm certain he did with you."
"Monster!"
"Perhaps," I say, ripping his trousers from his body. "And have you been entered by a monster, Inspector, as you have so longed to be."
"I am a man. You don't know what you're talking about!"
"Don't I?" Now that his ass is bare, I see the multitude of red lines Constance left there. If I had the time, I would increase them tenfold, but I do not. Still, I shall do my best to capture his fantasy. "I have time only to show you your true nature, Wilcox, as I have with all the others. And when I am done with you, you will thank me properly."
"The devil take you! Never!"
"Never is a word whose meaning you shall soon cease to recall."
I pull him across the room to the wall where Meg keeps some of her more obvious tools. My preference is leather, always, but this man needs to begin at the beginning and we must return in time to where his libido was thwarted.
I have him rise to his knees. "Your hand on the bar!"
He hesitates and a fast jerk of his twisted arm upward gets a response.
The metal bar is much like those used for ballet exercises, except that it hangs from the ceiling like a trapeze.
Padded metal clasps are affixed at each end. I secure a clasp to his wrist. We struggle as I bring his free arm around but soon have it also encircled with a metal bracelet.
Alan fights the metal, but he is locked without a way out.
The trapeze hangs from a thick chain which runs to the ceiling then down the wall. I hurry to the other end of it and yank hard, lifting the trapeze with Wilcox attached off the ground.
I wrap the chain around the anchor and yank once more. Now Wilcox is half a foot from the floor, cursing madly.
While all this has been going on, Wilcox has been putting up a show of resistance, but it is merely a veneer and not a real struggle. His lower body is bare and coated with sweat that stinks of fear. But I understand what he's about.
"You've waited patiently, haven't you, Alan?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he says, yet his cock standing at half mast firms at bit at the notion.
"Oh, I believe you do. All the others have received my attention. All but you. I should think you'd feel slighted."
"You're daft!"
"Am I? When was your last paddling?"
"You can see for yourself," he says tightly, resenting answering me.
"I see the hand of a woman who will do anything to capture her mates interest, not the firm, uncompromising hand of a strong man who will tolerate nothing less than submission."
His behind trembles, but he says, "May the devil take you!"
"Ah, but am I not the devil in your eyes? And if so, can I take myself? I think you have it twisted, who will take whom..."
"Be done with it!" He won't let me finish. He is so controlling. Even now, Wilcox twists and turns to avoid facing his desires.
"You're right, Wilcox. Words are not the answer here. But I think you'll recall this instrument."
One look at the cricket paddle and his jaw drops. He wants to beg me not to proceed but pride prohibits this. Well, soon his pride will
be dismantled.
I take up the traditional position, beside his left hip.
The paddle is heavy. I recall the hard blows to Jekyll's hide, even after all these years. Wilcox must has such a memory imbedded in his behind because it now twitches uncontrollably. A sob leaves his throat.
I lay the paddle on with a wallop. He swings forward a bit on the trapeze and as he swings back, the cricket paddle greets him again. Now he swings a bit further. Soon he is swinging wildly, the crack of the paddle against his ass loud as the two collide. He jerks and groans loudly, but suddenly it is as though he has gone back in time and without any prompting on my part, he says the words each of us but Hastie spoke as youths, words he could not utter then. "Thank you sir, may I please have another?"
I give him several dozen, and after each he remembers the sentence that can change his life. His pride dissolves like solids into liquids in Henry's laboratory.
I double my efforts and begin flogging his buttocks harder, putting my body weight behind the solid wood. The paddle is long enough to catch both cheeks at once and well-crafted enough that the thick wood makes a impression on the muscle below the skin. I expect he will bruise nicely.
I suspect it was Constance who did a fair job with switches today. I want to contribute and aim for specific spots on his ass. The crack of hardwood against those red weals irritates them, causing them to swell and expand to a painful size.
He kicks the wall with his feet. I only wish I could spend the night with this inspector. A night of a hiding with my favorite material would turn him around completely, but given the time available, and that the cricket paddle makes such a direct connection, I must content myself with this tool and finish it.
Soon I have him crying as he could not at the academy. The tears are genuine enough, but his cock is still only three quarters alive. I know what his body longs for, what he cannot ask for, what will turn him around and get him off my case.
My cock finds his anus readily enough. He stiffens as he feels it nudging the opening. My head breaks into his tight virgin anus.
Wilcox bucks like a horse and would kick me if he were in a better position. I drive up his rectum hard. He bellows in pain as the tension of a lifetime tears away. "Tell me, Wilcox," I say, slamming into him again, "is this not what you have secretly craved all your life, since the days when the boys had at you with the cricket paddle but you would not bend? Did you not long for each of them to enter you as well? Spit it out, man! You were disappointed. Enough of your useless pride!"
The Darker Passions Page 18
