Norah\'s Descent

Chapter Four    Caught in the cage

 

After leaving Diane and myself kneeling for many minutes I sensed Mark walking up behind us. I desperately wanted to look around, but was too afraid to move. I felt his hand resting gently on my head. It is time for my little ladies to be punished. Are we ready?

 

“Yes sir,” Diane responded without hesitation.

 

I could not bring myself to respond. Suddenly he grabbed a handful of my hair and wrenched my head back painfully so that I was gazing up at him.

 

“Listen to me bitch, do you want to double your punish? If not you had better start behaving yourself.” There was such venom in his voice. “Now, I will ask one last time, are you ready?”

 

He was pulling on my hair so hard I felt as if he was going to wrench it from my scalp, and my neck muscles were straining to their limit as my head was arched right back. I felt so vulnerable and out of control.

 

“Yes” I pleaded

 

“Yes what!” he spat the words, pulling my hair even harder.

 

“Yes, sir.” There was defeat in my tone.

 

He held his grip for a few seconds longer, as if reinforcing his control over me, then released me. My scalp felt so tender and I desperately wanted to massage it, but did not want to run the risk of provoking Mark. Tears were rolling down both cheeks.

 

“What a cry baby” he chided me. “I suggest you save the tears until you have something really worth crying about. And you won’t have long to wait.”

 

He chuckled quietly to himself, and a shiver went up my spine.

 

“Now crawl down the hallway and wait for me beside the bed.”

 

I turned to Diane, hoping beyond all hope that I had misheard, however this was quickly dispelled as she lent forward and placed her hands on the carpet, then began crawling off in the direction of the hallway. For a moment I hesitated, then set off like a puppy following its mother. I felt so ridiculous. And to make matters worse I knew that Mark was standing directly behind my waggling buttocks. I could only imagine the view I was affording him, and found myself blushing even more. Heat was suffusing through my body in a manner I had never experienced before, and it was at its most intense in my lower abdomen.

 

Like a puppy I followed Diane down the hallway and into the bedroom. She knelt, facing the bed, and I did not hesitate to follow suite.

We knelt and waited. I wanted to ask Diane what was going to happen to us, but was too scared to speak in case I incurred the wrath of Mark. So we waited in silence, and it gave me time to reflect on how I was feeling. I was full of dread, but I was also trying to fathom what other sensations I was experiencing. There was a warm feeling of exhilaration filtering through my body, and its intensity was building. I had to work hard to settle my breathing.

 

I would have no idea how long we knelt beside the bed, but eventually I heard Mark enter the room behind us. I held my breath.

 

“Who is to be punished first?” He sounded almost polite.

 

I continued to hold my breath.

 

“I think I should go first, sir” Diane responded.

 

I allowed myself to breath quietly.

 

“Kneel on the bed. You know how I want you.”

 

I glanced up to see Diane scramble onto the bed, kneeling with her buttocks in the air, and her head on the bed. She then arched her back downwards, which tightened her buttocks and pushed them out even further.

 

“Are you wet?” It was such an intimate question that Mark inquired of Diane that it caused me to blush and I looked down at the carpet again.

 

“Yes sir” Diane had no hesitation in responding.

 

“A little wet, or wet like a whore?” Mark continued his verbal probe.

 

“Wet like a whore, sir.”

 

Mark laughed quietly. “At least you are an honest whore.”

 

“Why are you being punished?”

 

“Because I allowed Norah to touch my breasts without your permission, sir.”

 

The mention of my name and my deeds made me shut my eyes tightly with shame. I was caught by surprise when Diane let out a loud gasp of pain. Instinctively I opened my eyes and looked up. A red welt covered both cheeks. I glanced up at Mark in time to see the second blow being delivered. He had the long whip in his hand that he had used on Diane the second time I witnessed her punishment.

 

Diane grunted as the second blow struck. My mouth was open in awe, and I was breathing in short gasps, my eyes magnetised to the movement of the whip. I watched all six strokes of the whip rise and fall on Diane’s beautiful tender buttocks. Again I had this surreal sensation, like I was watching a very good movie in a dream. I could hear Diane sobbing, her noise muffled by the bed.

 

As she crawled back off the bed to kneel beside me again I quickly snapped back to reality. I was overcome with panic and a desire to flee as quick as my little legs would carry me. I feared the pain. I feared I would not have the courage to endure the whipping. I feared I would embarrass myself.

 

But before my thoughts could organise themselves into any coherent action I heard Mark speak, but in my panic the words did not register any meaning to me. I looked up at him, my eyes as wide as saucers. His finger was pointing at the bed, and I knew only too well what was required of me.

 

In everyone’s lives there are times when you reach a crossroad, and you must make a decision that you know will affect the direction your life will take. These decisions are rarely easy. As I knelt beside that bed, I was at such a crossroad. I instinctively knew that if I made the decision to climb up onto the bed then I was going to alter the course of my life in a significant manner.

 

I could have chosen the safe option. I knew if I stood up and walked out, Mark would make no physical attempt to stop me. Instead, I mustered all the strength I had in my naked, 42 year old body and pulled myself up onto that bed.

 

Without being asked I knelt, placed my head on the bed, arched my back, and stuck my buttocks in the air. Brief revulsion surged up my body as I envisaged the view I would be affording the two teenagers. I knew my most intimate parts were totally exposed. It caused me to physically gag and for a brief, horrible moment I feared I was going to vomit. I managed to swallow the searing burning in my throat, and focused on settling my breathing.

 

Again I heard Mark speak, but the words would not register. I tried to focus on what was happening around me. There was silence.

 

“Pardon?” I enquired quietly, hoping that my inattention had not angered Mark.

 

“Are you wet?” He repeated himself patiently; almost as if he had some empathy with what I was going through.

 

“No!” I should have been indignant at being asked such a question. The old Mrs Norah Bentley would never have tolerated such rudeness.

 

“Not at all?” Forever the quizmaster

 

“No.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes” I prayed he would just move on

“I am not so sure. I think our Norah is more than a little turned on.”

 

Now I was indignant. “I am not wet!”

 

However Mark was hardly the type to accept my word. When I felt his hand touch my buttock I jumped forward with surprise.

 

“Push back” he commanded

 

“Please,” I pleaded, aware my voice had gone up several octaves

 

“Push back, or I will double your punishment.”

 

I took two deep breaths, then pushed my buttocks back and arched my back again. His hand once again rested on my buttock.

 

“If you are so confident you are not wet, I will do you a deal. “

 

“A deal?” I was puzzled

 

“If you are dry, I will let you off with only three strikes of the cane, however if you are wet I will add another three onto the six I was intending to give you.”

 

“I am not wet!” I repeated stubbornly

 

“Very well”

 

With that Mark’s hand squeezed both of my buttocks hard, before sliding a single finger teasingly up and down between the cheeks, lightly brushing over my anus. A part of me wanted to desperately pull away from his touch, but I forced myself to hold my position. He then allowed his finger to slide provocatively lower, gently touching my labia. I was desperately sucking in air, trying to remain calm. I do not believe I had ever felt so embarrassed in my life.

 

Then without warning Mark thrust two fingers deep into my vagina

 

“Oh my…..stop….please!” I was so shocked I could not form a coherent sentence.

 

“Ah oh. This is not good news, Norah”, Mark chirped.

 

As I turned to look at him flabbergasted, Mark withdrew his fingers from deep within my vaginal canal. They were unmistakably glistening with my juices.

 

“You are sooooo busted!!!” Mark cooed. “You are one very wet lady.”

 

I could not understand it, and just gazed at him disbelievingly. But there was no mistaking the wetness on his fingers. And there was no mistaking the sexual musk I was emitting. I knew, that despite the terrible predicament I was in, I was undeniably sexually stimulated. It was a crushing realisation.

 

“I think you had better put that head back on the bed and get that butt of yours well and truly up in the air”.

 

My resistance was broken, and I obeyed without question, even though I couldn’t even begin to comprehend the events that had unfolded this evening. I was about to be whipped, for heavens sake.

 

And with that thought in my head, the first stroke of the whip bit into my buttocks, and my mind exploded with the pain. I am not sure what I expected, but I did not think it would hurt so bad. I just grunted over and over, and then the second blow struck, and I rolled over onto my side, then onto my back. My hands were rubbing my backside furiously, and I was crying out like a baby. To make matters worse both Mark and Diane were grinning at me.

 

“No more, please!” I begged Mark.

 

“A deal is a deal,” was his cold-hearted response. He lent over the bed, flipped me over onto my stomach, then like a puppet picked me up by the hips.

 

“Get back into position.”

 

With great reluctance I obeyed.  I had barely tucked my knees under me and raised my buttocks when Mark struck again. It hurt like hell but I sucked in the pain and determinedly held my position. I just managed to hold myself together for the fourth stroke, but when the whip struck for the fifth time the flood gates opened and I was blubbing like a baby again and begging for mercy. I must have sounded pathetic. I just kept pleading with him over and over. I had no pride left, and would say anything to stop the beating.

 

Mark let me ramble on and on, begging and pleading.

 

“Get up.” Mark ordered abruptly.

 

I jumped off the bed quickly. Anything to avoid the whip. I stood before him, tears streaming down my cheeks. I made no attempt to hide my nudity from him. I desperately wanted to rub my derrière, but did not want to risk angering Mark; therefore I left my arms limp by my side.

 

“We had a deal.” Mark spoke with contempt

 

“I know. I know. But please,” I pleaded, “I cannot take any more of the whip. Please, I will do anything, but not the whip.”

 

“Anything?” Mark gave me his quizzical look, raising one eyebrow.

 

“Anything” I repeated, gulping, trying to bring my sobbing under control.

 

“Is this another of your deals that you won’t keep?” he responded sarcastically

 

“Noooo” I responded, pouting my lip like a child

 

“Very well. I will take you at your word. But when it is time to settle, and you had better come a running. Understand!!” Mark yelled the last word at me like a Sergeant Major.

 

“Yes sir” I whimpered pathetically, still sobbing uncontrollably.

 

Satisfied, Mark turned and abruptly left the bedroom. Diane put a comforting arm around me, and I put my head on her shoulder and cried my heart out. It was not the physical pain so much. I was just so frightened by what I had done, and had allowed to be done to me. I did not understand who I was anymore. My persona had fractured like a china doll.