"Nnnghhhoowww!" Diane shrieked again as she jerked her head up and slammed its back against the bricks behind her. She stared at the wall in front of her, her eyes glazed and dilated with pain while her lips trembled uncontrollably. Diane's nostrils flicked and flared while she breathed irregularly. The fiery heat of the whip sliced into her tender, sweaty flesh, making her body involuntarily jerk again. The blonde jangled and danced from the end of the rope like a puppet. Playfully Matt walked up to Diane and pushed the butt end of the whip hard against her belly.
"Okay. Now who's the stud who was over here fucking you?" he asked in an even, quiet voice.
"There wasn't anybody here," Diane groaned as she turned her head and looked at him. Her hair dangled in front of her eyes as she peered pleadingly at Matt.
"I've got other ways to make you talk, bitch!"
Matt said angrily, shoving the butt hard into her belly and forcing the air out of her lungs.
"Uuuugghhh!" Diane grunted as Matt pulled the handle back and got ready for another flogging. "P-please don – ARRRGGW!" she screamed as the whip cut through the air and slashed across her belly. A piercing high-pitched cry filled the room as another cracking sound echoed off the walls. Diane jerked and twisted helplessly, her body turning first one way, then another as the whip cut into her flesh and propelled the blonde with its own force. Her fingers clawed at the leather thongs that tied her wrists while tears sprang to her eyes and ran down her flushed cheeks.
"Ohhhh," Diane moaned as the flogging finally seemed to stop. Her head hung limply down as she felt every ounce of strength ooze out of her. She was bleeding. She was sure of it, though Diane didn't know where. Every inch of her flesh seemed to be covered with welts and long, red cuts that showed where Matt had beat her mercilessly. In between the whipping sessions, Jennie had dropped to her knees and tongued the blonde's pussy, sticking her narrow pink tongue into Diane's snatch and occasionally biting her sensitive twat lips. The woman dangled, moaning in agony and shame as Matt told Jennie to back away.
"I think she's gonna pass out," the brunette commented as Matt drew back his hand for another attack.
"Nooo!" Diane howled, turning her head away and widening her eyes as she watched Matt leer and bring the lash down hard. Just as the tip of the whip sliced across her right cheek, Diane screamed, then lost consciousness.
CHAPTER FOUR
A week went by before Diane even bothered calling anyone. The morning after her savage beating, the blonde had found herself in bed. Dried smears of blood streaked her arms, belly and legs. Large, red, ugly welts peppered her body. Her shoulders ached painfully from the hanging, and her eyes were swollen from the constant sobbing that marked her reaction to the events of that night.
At first Diane was afraid even to move one finger above the top sheet. She lay in bed for several minutes, straining her ears to hear the faintest indication that Matt or Jennie might be home. When the blonde was sure she was alone, she sprang out of bed and staggered into the bathroom. She turned on the water in the sink and started to splash cold water on her face when the blonde looked in the mirror and saw the damage done to her body.
"ohhhh, my God, nooo!" Diane groaned, sinking to her knees and rocking back and forth in horror as she saw what she looked like now. "Why? WHY?" Diane asked over and over as she searched for an answer to the nightmare she'd lived through the night before. The sneers; the laughing; the sound of that whip whistling through the air before it thwacked across her tender flesh; all those images came back to haunt the groaning blonde as she wallowed in an orgy of self-pity.
All through the day and into the night, Diane waited with abject terror for Matt to come home. But her husband didn't return that night, or the night after, or the night after that! In a way, Diane was relieved. As her body began to heal, the blonde slowly realized that Matt might try the same thing again with her. And the next time, she might not be so lucky. Jennie was there as a kind of control. What if he should go completely bananas, or freak out when there was no one there to watch out for him? There was a frightening gleam in Matt's eyes that night. Diane wasn't sure what had set it off but she started to realize that she was the object of that fury.
At the end of the week, Diane made a decision to leave the house and never come back. Waiting for Matt to come home so that they could have a conversation was silly. Slowly, Diane realized that. Matt didn't want to talk with her any more. He didn't want to do anything with her any more except beat her up.
So late that Friday afternoon, Diane was scurrying around the house, packing two suitcases and wondering where she could hide until she filed for divorce. As she closed the top of the second suitcase and locked it, the phone rang.
No, I won't! Diane said to herself, hauling the two suitcases off her bed and walking briskly into the living room. It might be Matt, wanting to apologize. But after thinking everything out, Diane decided that it was better that she leave. That torture chamber in the basement! He'd really flipped out. She couldn't live with a man who got his jollies that way.
"Oh hell!" the blonde muttered, dropping the suitcases and running over to the phone in the living room. It might be Sharon or Jack or her mother. If it were Matt, she'd simply hang up.
"Hello?" Diane said, placing the black receiver against her ear. She heard nothing at first, and concentrated a little more on what she thought were background noises. Finally Diane realized that there were no background noises at all, but simply the sounds of heavy breathing.
"Degenerate," the blonde muttered, about to hang up when the party at the other end of the line finally said something.
"Your husband told us about you," he panted heavily.
"Who is this?" Diane asked in a quivering voice. Any reference to Matt made her nervous.
"Said you loved to be beaten up. When can you come over to my place? I wanna dig my fingers into those soft cunt lips of yours and…"
Diane didn't listen to any more. Slamming down the receiver, she wheeled around and grabbed her suitcases. Everything in the house horrified her now. She couldn't wait to get out.
"Diane! Diane, where are you going?" Sharon asked as she ran down the sidewalk.
"Out for a trip, Sharon," Diane said crisply as she opened the trunk of her car, pushed in her suitcases, then slammed it shut.
"Without Matt?" Sharon asked, walking up to the rear of the car.
"We're getting a divorce, Sharon. Don't bother asking me why. But I'm through with him," Diane muttered, walking quickly past her friend and opening the car door.
"But…"
"Please, Sharon. Get out of my way. I'll call you or something when I get settled," Diane said as she started up the car and threw it into reverse.
"Jack Moore called. He wondered why you hadn't called him about your sales or… or something," Sharon said slyly.
Jack! Of course! She could stay with him until she got her head together.
"Just tell him I had to get out of town for a while. I'll call him in a few days. Now please, Sharon," Diane said, tearing out the driveway past her startled friend. The blonde wished she could have told her everything. But right now, Diane didn't trust anyone. For all she knew, Sharon could be grand princess of the bondage circuit.
Diane drove aimlessly around Los Angeles for the next hour, feeling relieved that she'd finally made the move to leave Matt, and terrified that he'd find her before she had a chance to cover her tracks. At six o'clock, the blonde pulled into a Howard Johnson's restaurant parking lot. Running quickly inside, Diane ducked into a phone booth and fished through her purse for Jack's phone number.