The Ties That Bind

by Warren Adler

  "Is she here?" he asked, facing her now.

  Fiona hesitated, debating whether to tell him the truth. But then he might think she had been lying all along.

  "No. I have to make a call."

  "Not yet, Fiona," Farley said.

  Fiona was oddly relieved. Their eyes met. But she could not read the intent behind his expression.

  "I'm glad we understand each other, Fiona," he said.

  In lieu of finding an adequate answer, Fiona nodded.

  "Not many people understand," he said. "After our last meeting, I could see that you were battling with yourself over your desires. That time, years ago, I should have exercised more control over myself. It was wrong..."

  "It's alright, Farley. That part is over."

  "And you do believe me about ... the other?"

  "Yes, Farley," she lied. "I believe you." Did he buy it, she wondered?

  "Good," he said, pausing, watching her face. "Why do you wish to do this for me, Fiona?"

  "The other night ... why fight it, Farley? It's not just for you. I saw my need as well as yours. I was frightened by it."

  "And now?"

  "I'm ready."

  "And this person you spoke of?"

  "She is a true mistress. Much more caring and better at it than I can ever be. I want to learn from her. I'm not fighting this any more, Farley. It's what I want. What I always wanted."

  From his reaction, she felt that she was getting it right. The only missing ingredient would be Gail. And Fiona still hadn't come up with an alternative.

  "Where..." He looked around the room.

  "Not here, Farley. I've arranged things on the lower level recreation room."

  "You can call now, Fiona," he said.

  "Are you sure?" Fiona asked. There seemed no way out. She would have to involve Gail. Again, she thought of calling it off. Again, she demurred.

  Fiona turned and started to move toward the phone. She hadn't taken more than a few steps before she felt a sharp blow to the back of her knees. She buckled instantly, the drink falling to the floor, the glass breaking. She sank forward, hitting the floor hard. Before she could recover her presence of mind, she felt her arms thrust behind her and cold metal clasped around her wrists.

  He was on top of her, holding her down. He put a leather plug in her mouth and fastened it around her head. Then he tied a leather collar around her neck. He got off her and stood up, then pulled on a kind of leash. The collar tightened.

  "Stand up," he commanded, pulling on the leash. There was no choice. Either choke or stand up.

  Her legs felt wobbly, but she did manage to rise to her feet. She wasn't dreaming this. She was totally in his control, vanquished, unable to cry out and stunned by the ferocity of his attack. Deprived of speech, she felt weaponless. With an effort of will she tried to get her sense of panic under control, to force alertness.

  She noted that he was wearing plastic gloves, which telegraphed his intention and accelerated her fear.

  "Now lead me downstairs, bitch," he said, tightening the leash as she moved down the stairs. She couldn't believe she had allowed herself to get into this situation. In the recreation room below, she stood helpless while he inspected the room. He still had not removed his raincoat but she could see that it still bulked out in the pockets.

  He inspected the ceiling and walls. To one side of the room was an exposed pipe painted the color of the wallpaper to hide it. Without looking in her direction, he emptied the pockets of his raincoat. Fiona saw chains, some D-rings, a riding crop, a cat-o'-nine-tails and what looked like a large plastic dildo. She had no illusions of what he had in store for her.

  He threw a length of chain over the pipe, then pulled her leash and brought her to the area where he had positioned the chains. Keeping a tight, almost choking, grip on the leash, he took off her handcuffs and attached her wrists to the chains using D-clamps, then pulled them taut. She felt her body stretch to the balls of her feet.

  Unable to talk, suspended and painfully stretched, with the leather leash available to him to choke and further torment her, she could only observe him helplessly.

  "You are a filthy, lying bitch," he cried. "Everything you get, you will deserve. Do you think I'm a fool, Fiona? You think I'm not aware of your filthy tricks? I'm about to show you some punishment that will live in your memory beyond the grave."

  She continued to observed him, fearing at any moment that he would place a blindfold around her eyes. She tried to isolate her mind, free herself from fear and concentrate on finding a way out. Suddenly, he came closer to her and lifted his arm. He was holding something in his hand. Suddenly a switchblade sprang to life.

  "Are you enjoying this as much as I am, Fiona?" he asked, smiling. He put the knife against her cheek. "Warm it up, you bitch." Resist the pain, she begged herself. Deftly he placed the blade at the neckline of her blouse and sliced downward. Her blouse sprang open.

  "Don't you love this, Fiona?"

  Again the blade moved, slicing her brassiere in two. Her breasts fell free. Then he moved the flat of the blade against her nipples.

  "See how they pop, Fiona. How would you like me to snap off the nips?" He giggled as her head rolled from side to side. "Oh, we'll get to that. There's so much more to do."

  Skilled cuts of the blade split her slacks, which fell to her ankles. Then he worked on her panty hose, which slipped away from her body and bunched on the floor. She was completely naked now.

  "How does it feel to be naked and powerless, Fiona? Isn't it exhilarating? And you can't even cry out. How very sad, so very sad."

  He moved the flat of the knife down her stomach, then to her pubic hairs. He cut one away and rolled it in his fingers.

  "Getting hot, Fiona? Do you feel the thrill in your body? Do you feel the ooze of pleasure? Come, my sweet Fiona, my trusting Fiona, my silent goddess. Let me see your pleasure."

  Bear it, she begged herself, watching him, wondering how to convey some hint of enjoyment under the circumstances, to forestall him. Still smiling, he moved backward and, putting down the knife, began to take off his clothes. As she watched him undress to his underwear, she wondered if this were theatrics or a prelude to murdering her. What she needed most of all was the organ of speech. She noted, too, that he was, at least partially, tumescent.

  From his pocket, he removed what looked like a vial. He held it up for her to see and smiled. Then he removed the cap. It was lipstick. Cherry red lipstick. The kind that had been used to decorate Phyla ... and Fiona. She noted that it was not a new lipstick, but one that had been worn partially down.

  "Now we must label the meat. What shall we say you are, Fiona? How about this?"

  He wrote across her breastbone, just under her neck

  "C U N T," he said, calling out the letters as he printed them. She could not see them. Then she felt the lipstick roll down the front of her body to where her public hairs began. Without looking, she knew what it was. The arrow, exactly how it had appeared on Phyla's body and hers years ago.

  "How about this, Fiona?" he said, laughing as he wrote in longhand on her left thigh. "Slut, right? That about describes what you are. Now what shall we call the other one?" He wrote across her left thigh. "Whore. Isn't that what you are, Fiona? Whore?"

  He stepped back to view his handiwork. Then he moved forward and circled her eyes with black eyeliner and then wrote across her forehead.

  "You know what I wrote, slut?"

  Inexplicably, she nodded her head, an involuntary reaction. He chuckled.

  "Of course, you know," he said.

  "Scum," he shouted. "Aren't you scum, Fiona?"

  When she didn't respond in any way, he pinched her nipples between a thumb and forefinger.

  "Right?"

  He pinched harder.

  It was unbearable and she screamed inwardly, then nodded her head vigorously.

  "Good girl."

  He removed his fingers from her nipples and giggled.

  "And
how about the word 'trash'? I could write that on your butt. Would that do it?"

  She nodded, a response that seemed to please him.

  "Just for that, Fiona," he said, "you get a nice treat."

  He moved backward so that she could see him clearly. Removing his shorts, he threw them on the top of his outer clothes which he had placed neatly on a chair. She noted that he was in full erection. He picked up the cat-o'-nine-tails and moved behind her.

  "You'll love this, Fiona," he said. She felt the lipstick moving along her buttocks.

  "It looks wonderful back here," he said.

  Then she heard the crack of the whip.

  "Listen to that music, Fiona."

  Suddenly her body was suffused with pain as the knotted cords struck her back, then her buttocks. Blow after blow came down on her. She heard him grunt and wheeze with each blow. The pain was unbearable. She could not scream out. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

  Finally, he stopped and came around to face her. He seemed crazed. She noted that he was still wearing plastic gloves. It was ominous detail.

  "I think this needs an accompaniment, Fiona. I haven't heard a word out of you."

  He unstrapped the leather gag and pulled it out of her mouth. At that moment the telephone rang. Her eyes looked toward the phone. He froze for a moment.

  "Who would that be?" he asked.

  "I'm a homicide cop, remember," she said hoarsely. He contemplated her answer as the phone continued to ring. Then the ringing stopped and she could hear the click of her answering machine as it took the caller's message.

  "Well," he said. "Isn't technology wonderful?"

  She managed to croak out a response.

  "It could be urgent. Maybe my boss."

  "And here you are."

  He reached back and struck her savagely across her breasts. She screamed out in pain.

  "Will you play that tune again, Fiona?"

  Through her pain her mind groped for escape. He is going to kill me, she told herself, searching her mind for some way to survive.

  He put the cat-o'-nine-tails down and picked up the riding crop. Then he moved behind her and struck a blow with the crop across her buttocks. Again she screamed as the pain seared through her.

  "You should see the pretty stripes," he said. "Look at that," he said, moving backward. "See the pretty stripes."

  She braced for another blow. The telephone rang again. As it rang, an idea pulsed in her brain.

  "More," she cried, above the sound of the phone. She heard the message machine kick in. "Beat me," she screamed.

  He struck again across her buttocks. And again. In her agony, she lost all concept of time.

  "I love this," she screeched, at the top of her lungs. All she could think about now was staying alive, forestalling him. The blows rained down on her.

  "Again," she screamed.

  She could hear his heavy breathing as he paused for a moment.

  "Don't stop," she cried.

  "I didn't hear you thank me, Fiona."

  "Thank you," she whispered, barely able to talk.

  "Thank you, what?" he yelled.

  "Master. Thank you, master."

  He moved in front of her. His body was glistening with sweat. He inspected her face.

  "Oh, we forgot something," he said. He reached for the lipstick again and roughly painted her lips.

  "Now that's the look I wanted," he said. "Now smile."

  She forced herself to smile, then watched in terror as he reached for the large plastic dildo that he had put on nearby chair. Picking it up, he flicked a switch and it began to hum and vibrate.

  "Remember the sound, Fiona. And how good it felt."

  He came toward her. The device looked massive. She knew it would tear her apart.

  "You want this, don't you, Fiona?"

  "I need more of the other," she managed to gasp.

  He picked up the riding crop again.

  "You mean this?"

  She nodded vigorously.

  In his other hand, he held the dildo.

  "It's the best part," he said, holding the dildo to her lips. "Kiss it, bitch."

  She obeyed him. Then he flung the riding crop to the floor.

  "This is a lot more fun, Fiona. Remember."

  She felt the vibrating instrument roll down her body. He moved it slowly, smiling at her as he did so, until he moved it between her legs.

  "Don't you just love this, Fiona?"

  Her flesh felt numb. Her legs began to shake uncontrollably. Tears rolled down her cheeks. With every ounce of energy she could muster, she screamed.

  "Wonderful," Farley shouted, as if in counterpoint. "More?"

  She closed her eyes and screamed again and again. She felt the pressure of the dildo between her legs as the hated instrument moved around her genitals.

  Suddenly, she heard a sharp crack and the instrument was withdrawn from where it was poised to damage her. When she opened her eyes, she saw Gail.

  Gail Prentiss in costume, an amazon in leather. Even in her present state of panic, Fiona was mesmerized by her appearance.

  Gail was made up as the ultimate mistress, an unbelievably formidable sight with her spiked heels, lace panties, black silk stockings, a leather corset that emphasized her large breasts. Her lips were made up in cherry red lipstick, her eyes in black eye makeup. In her hand, she carried a whip and by the way she wielded it, she apparently had been practicing.

  Farley, too, had been mesmerized by the sight. He stood stock still, naked, watching Gail, who looked at him menacingly, then snapped the whip so that its pay end slapped across his stomach.

  "On the ground, you stinking bastard," she cried, briefly glancing at Fiona.

  "Now show it to me," she hissed. He was on his hands and knees, his buttocks exposed, waiting for the whip. She pulled back her arm and lashed him again and again until his buttocks were raw.

  "Now crawl over to that corner, you scummy piece of garbage."

  He did as she asked and started to turn around.

  "Did I say you could look at me?"

  He shook his head.

  "Say, no, mistress."

  "No, mistress."

  He cowered in the corner.

  Gail quickly released Fiona. She keeled over on the floor, exhausted and hurt. Every inch of her body ached.

  Exchanging glances with Gail, she nodded and managed to stagger to the other side of the wall, where she had placed the video machine. She pressed the button and heard the faint whirring sound of the mechanism.

  Suddenly, she saw a shadow move behind her.

  Harrison! She fell into his arms.

  "Thank God," she whispered. "I..."

  "Not now," he replied.

  He wrapped her in his jacket and held her as they watched the scene through the monitor.

  "You can leave the corner," Gail said, cracking the whip over his back. "But don't you dare look at me."

  He came toward her face down until he was directly in front of her.

  "I want you to kiss my feet," Gail ordered.

  He did so.

  Fiona noted that the still vibrating dildo was in her hand now. She heard Harrison gasp beside her.

  "If you're not good, I'll use this," she said, showing him the device. "And you know where I'll put it."

  "Yes, mistress. I'll be good."

  "I don't think you will," Gail insisted. She ordered him to turn around. She moved the vibrating dildo against the raw skin of his buttocks.

  "Do you feel that?"

  He nodded.

  "Say, yes, mistress," Gail ordered.

  "Yes, mistress."

  "Do you want me to use this?"

  "No, mistress."

  "Did Phyla mind, Farley?"

  He hesitated.

  "Did she?"

  Again he was silent.

  She cracked the whip sharply against his buttocks.

  "You want me to stop?"

  "No, mistress," he said, shaking his head.<
br />
  "Tell me about Phyla. Did she beg for it?"

  "At first, mistress."

  Bingo, Fiona thought. At last. She felt grateful. A sob bubbled up from her chest. Tears ran down her cheeks.

  "Phyla enjoyed being a bottom, right?"

  "Yes, mistress."

  "For years she was your slave, right?"

  "Yes, mistress."

  "And you came to her room at the Mayflower?"

  "Yes, mistress."

  "And she loved it, didn't she?"

  "Yes, mistress."

  "And you loved it?"

  "Very much, mistress."

  "And she wanted more and more, bigger and bigger?"

  "Yes, mistress."

  "Now put your hands behind you," Gail ordered.

  "Yes, mistress."

  He did so and she slapped handcuffs around his wrists.

  "You bastard," Gail cried. She put the dildo down and raised her arm. The whip was still in her hand.

  Fiona reached out and shut off the video machined. Harrison helped her move to the other side of the wall. Gail was laying lash after lash on him. She noted that Farley had a formidable erection.

  "Stop, Gail. Please. Enough. We got what we need."

  Gail was bathed in perspiration.

  "That was for Barker," she said, out of breath.

  "He wants that, Gail."

  Bending, Gail grasped Farley by the handcuffs and roughly pulled him to a standing position. He seemed dazed, as if he were just emerging from a trance.

  "What is this all about?" he mumbled.

  "We're booking you, Judge," Gail said.

  He was still not fully cognizant of what was happening. Harrison and Gail managed to put on his pants and shirts. He looked a mess. Gail opened one cuff and attached it to the same pipe to which he had attached Fiona.

  "I'll get you a robe, darling," Harrison said. He dashed up the basement stairs.

  "Harrison called me," Gail said. "Said you were acting strangely. When you didn't answer, I knew immediately."

  Fiona looked at her. Moving toward her, she patted one cheek and kissed the other.

  "I don't know what to say," Fiona began.

  "I did," Gail said. "And I think I might have talked too much. I told Harrison everything."

  Conscious suddenly of her costume, Gail shook her head.

  "Weird, isn't it?" she said.

  "Thank you," Fiona whispered.