A Lady Pays Her Penalties Page 11

  Bill missed her last words. He was still trying to drag his pants over his hips when he threw the table aside and trotted out the door.

  Alone for the first time in two hours, Leslie pulled herself back to her aching feet, re-adjusted her dress, scooped up her purse, held it up to cover her face just in case the camera was still recording, and limped out the door. As she walked through the showroom, she heard a tremendous brouhaha roaring out of the manager’s office. Furniture was being thrown against walls. Personally, she didn’t care who ended up with Bill’s home made porn video because she didn’t care who saw the back of her head, especially with her hair piled up on top. No one ever saw her looking like that. She was happy to finally be leaving with a nice smear of Bill’s cum drying on her cheek. A grim brand of happiness, but happiness nonetheless.

  And she didn’t mind missing her chance to buy a big Lexus SUV, either. She liked small, fuel-efficient cars. Maybe she’d buy a Prius next.

  But not from this dealer.

  * * *

  The mile-long limp back to the motel hurt even worse than the limp to the car lot. Partly, it was made worse by the knowledge that, though all the envelopes had been opened, her punishment would not be complete for some hours yet.

  Craig was waiting patiently inside the motel room. She knew that he was a good friend, but she would never know how good. He had not only followed her to and from the car lot, but had been following her around during the test drive as well, just making sure that, if she needed help, he would be close by to give it to her.

  As soon as she was back inside the motel room, she turned her cheek and said, “Right there. That crusty spot is a salesman’s cum.” She smiled an evil smile. “You can smell it if you like. Just to be sure.”

  “No thanks,” Craig smiled grimly. “I’ll take your word for it. Can I drive you home now?”

  It took all her will power to force herself to say, “No thanks.” Rules were rules and her rules did not include a ride home. After all she had been through, she was not going to wimp out now. She grabbed her dress at the hem and raised it above her breasts, revealing the chain that linked her nipples. “The house key goes here, remember? You can drop my car keys through my mail slot when you pick up your car.” Her keys were on the kind of double ring that snapped together, the house key on one side and the car keys on the other.

  Craig did not reply, but followed her instructions: separated the two halves of Leslie’s key chain; threaded the hasp of the padlock through the ring that held her house key; and then padlocked it to the chain that hung between her boobs. The padlock was not small and not light. When he gently lowered it to hang from the chain, its weight dragged the safety pins through her nipples to the ends, distorting the raw piercings painfully.

  “Ouch,” Leslie said with conviction, “that smarts.” She quickly reached up to grab the lock and take the weight from her freshly pierced nipples.

  “You won’t take the key off the split ring until you get home?” Craig asked curiously.

  She laughed bitterly. “Not even then. The split ring is soldered closed. I have to use the key from where it is until I can get inside and unlock the padlock.”

  “You’ve thought of everything.”

  She lowered the dress gingerly back over her tortured nipples and bruised ass, being careful not to drop the lock that was hanging on her. I hope so.” She was now holding the lock from the outside, through the material of the dress, pulling it tight around her boobs. “I’ll be hanging on to this all the way home. If it bounces, it’s heavy enough to tear the piercings out. Better to have a tired arm than ripped nipples.”

  “Five miles is a long way.”

  “If I leave now, I should be getting home about the time it gets dark. I’ll be safe enough on these streets. I can’t thank you enough for all the time you’ve spent helping me today.”

  “You’re welcome.” Craig wondered if she would be still thanking him after she found what he had left inside her house.

  Without further comment, they left, each returning to his own home. He drove her car while she hobbled down the street. The room was rented for the night. She would drive back and get her things before checkout time in the morning.

  For Leslie, the walk home was tedious agony. Every step hurt her feet. Every step hurt her cunt and asshole. Every step dragged the wool double knit across her ass and tits. The fabric was soft to the casual touch but, after five miles of abrasion, felt like sandpaper against her tender, and tenderized, skin. And every time her attention wandered, her hand that was holding the padlock through the dress relaxed and let the lock tug sharply on her wounded nipples. That snapped her back to reality. There was no excitement in this journey, just long, labored punishment.

  By the time she reached her front door, the tears that were streaming down her cheeks had washed the salesman’s cum all the way down to the base of her neck. She wanted a shower so badly it hurt.

  Her car was in her driveway; Craig’s was gone. Undoubtedly he had been home snuggling with his wife for over three hours already.

  But her ordeal was not over, even yet. Her plan contained a final humiliation. The key for her front door was inside her dress. She could remove neither the objects from inside her nor the pins from her nipples until she could unlock the door and get to the keys and wire cutters on her dining room table. The only way that she could get the key into the lock on her front door was to hike her dress up to her shoulders, leaving herself naked from her armpits down. Naked except for the leather belts that held the dildo and butt plug in place. She dared not exhibit herself to her neighbors – she had to live here – so she could not get into her house until was too dark for her to be seen. At this time of year, the sun set at about nine, but she had programmed her front porch lights to stay on until ten. And she had installed fresh, bright, hundred watt bulbs in the fixtures on each side of the door. If she tried to let herself in early, people would see her from a block away in the blaze of two hundred watts. The final instruction in every envelope from Four to Six had included locking her house key to her tits. She had known when she was playing the backgammon games that, if she quit when she was stuck with Envelope Four and her nipples were going to be pinned and her ordeal could not end until ten o’clock at night, a full eleven hours after it began.

  She spent the next hour and a half sitting on her back step. She could only hope that none of her neighbors were peeking over the back fence because the dress was too short to cover much below her waist when she sat with her knees halfway up to her chin. She spent the time just sitting and weeping, her tears flowing from pain, frustration, exhaustion, humiliation, and no small amount of relief that the end was in sight. It was only a matter of waiting now.

  When she turned around, she could see the clock on the microwave through her kitchen window. When it showed “9:58”, she limped painfully around to the front of her house and stood on the front porch until the lights clicked off.

  With a final scan of her street to make sure that none of her neighbors were out walking their dogs, staring out of their windows, or driving home, she knelt on the sill of her front door, hiked her dress up over her breasts, and pulled the key toward the lock. She felt the chill night breeze caressing her all-but-naked body.

  The chain was short; she had to stretch her nipples out to get the key into the hole, making her piercings burn with fresh pain. Her measurements were accurate. By positioning herself as close as possible and stretching her nipples far enough while supporting the padlock with her free hand, she managed to insert the key and turn it without tearing a safety pin out. When the lock clicked open, she gasped with relief, withdrew the key ever so carefully – this was no time to rush and make a mistake – dropped her dress, opened the door, and stumbled across the threshold on her knees. She had never felt so relieved as when she finally pushed the door shut behind her.

  She released all her tension in a heart-felt groan. She would be free of all her torture devices in a few
minutes. Keeping a hand on the padlock to support it, she pulled herself back to her feet using the front door knob, and then, before going to the dining room to get the keys and wire clippers, limped into the kitchen, grabbed the shears from the counter, and cut the straps on the pink high heels. It was surprisingly difficult to cut through the thin leather, but the shears were up to the task. The shoes fell to the floor, one by one. She felt such relief when she was allowed to stretch her poor bruised toes again that she began to cry anew.

  She walked barefoot into the dining room, closed the curtains, and then turned on the lights.

  She had left wire clippers on the table next to the padlock keys, but when she looked at the table she saw that they were missing. There was another envelope in their place. The words, “Envelope Seven” were typed on the front. What the hell was this? She had never made a seventh envelope. If she had, it would have contained a terrible punishment.

  With shaking hands, she tore it open.

  The paper inside read:

  Dear Leslie:

  Surely you remember that you were gammoned in the last game, losing two points. You deserved two envelopes, but, at that time, I had only one to give to you, Envelope Six. This one, Envelope Seven, is the last penalty that you earned by accepting the gammon and losing. If you do not want to accept your final penalty, that is your prerogative, but you lost the points, so I think you deserve a full measure of punishment.

  This is your final penalty.

  You may not remove the safety pins or the chain connecting them from your nipples for three months. Clean the pins with alcohol to keep from getting an infection and move them from side to side daily to ensure that your flesh does not grow attached to them. With proper care, your piercings will be permanent by the end of three months. At that time, you can replace the pins and chain with more attractive hoops or studs. You will only stop keeping jewelry in your nipples if you get married and your husband asks you to let your piercings grow over. If you never marry or if you fall in love with a man who likes pierced tits, then you keep them forever.

  Yours, Craig

  She moaned with fresh despair.

  This was what Craig had been doing while she had been bound to the chair for so long waiting for him to return and pierce her second nipple. As she had been sitting there, she had believed that she was only suffering a play piercing; she had no idea that he was making them permanent. And now they were permanent because she agreed with him. She had earned the seventh envelope and she had to obey this instruction. She deserved to pay an additional penalty for the gammon.

  Leslie pulled her dress off over her head, being careful not to jostle the lock that hung from her nipples and looked down at the ugly safety pins that had been thrust through them so cruelly. They were full-sized steel pins and, with their mangled ends crimped flat to secure the points, looked even uglier than most safety pins. And the chain was nothing special to look at, either just a foot of quarter-inch, chromed steel, welded links.

  She would have to be careful not to snag the pins or chain, especially when she was sleeping. It would be safest to sleep in a bra for the next three months. That would give her a certain measure of additional discomfort as well.

  She unlocked the padlock from the chain, freeing her house key, then unlocked the belts from her crotch and waist. Removing the anal plug was more difficult than she expected, all the lube having been absorbed long ago, but once she got it moving, she was able to work it out with a tolerable amount of pain. She saw only one small smear of blood on it. She felt herself carefully. Her asshole was gaping open, but she could feel it slowly beginning to contract again.

  Next, she gently pulled the dildo out. It came smoothly and easily. Though it had been inside her all day, she was still excreting enough lubrication of her own to make it slippery.

  It felt great to be empty below the waist again.

  She wished that she could free her nipples, too, but that would never happen. The only thing that she could look forward to was getting rid of the chain in the fall and replacing the ugly pins with discrete studs.

  She limped back into the kitchen, turned her calendar forward by three months and circled the third Saturday of the month. That was the day that she could cut the safety pins off. And buy new, permanent nipple jewelry.

  She had never liked the look of pierced nipples, but, unless she fell in love with a man who felt the same way and married him, she was going to spend a lifetime acquiring a taste for them.

  An hour later, after showering, brushing her teeth, and cleaning her new piercings with alcohol – the first of many such cleanings – and protecting the wounds with Band-Aids, she climbed into bed.

  She cried herself to sleep within minutes.

  She had tested herself and found that she could take everything that she had programmed and a little more. Despite her tears, she had never slept happier.

  Making a Point about Backgammon

  When Craig answered the phone, he immediately recognized Leslie’s voice.

  “I haven’t heard from you for a while,” he said, somewhat tentatively. He had been wondering if he had crossed the line the last time he assisted her. She had a habit of playing backgammon online and punishing herself when she lost. He sometimes oversaw her punishments to ensure her safety. The last time she had lost badly and, though her self-imposed punishment had been long and elaborate, he had augmented it by asking her to keep her nipples permanently pierced. It had been the first time that he had taken the initiative and added something extra to her punishment. When he had not heard from her for several weeks, he feared that she had taken offence; or worse, lost her trust in him.

  “I’m sorry about that,” she replied with forced casualness. “I’ve been a little busy.”

  “I’m glad to hear that you’re all right.”

  “I’m wearing your chain and safety pins, as you specified.” She was referring to the penalty that he had imposed without her prior sanction.

  The tone of her voice was flat. He could not interpret it. Was she pleased? Angry? Resigned? It was significant that she felt obligated to report to him about the punishment that he has assigned, even though he had been clear that her compliance was voluntary. He was not certain how he should answer.

  When he did not reply immediately, she continued, “I’ll be able to change them for proper rings in another two weeks, as you permitted in your instructions. The piercings in my nipples have healed nicely, so that won’t be a problem. I’m looking forward to being able to wear something more comfortable in my bra.”

  “I’m pleased to hear that it’s working out all right. I was worried that maybe something might go wrong.”

  “Nothing wrong. Everything is good. At least, as good as it can be, considering that I don’t like having pierced nipples. It feels like I have been wearing the safety pins and chain forever.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m not. I took a chance and I lost. I can accept the penalty that I earned.”

  “Okay.” Craig was relieved that she did not seem to be holding a grudge against him. He never understood why his friend liked playing backgammon and then punishing herself when she lost, but he wanted to be able to continue helping her keep safe.

  “Anyway, I’m calling because I’ve been playing backgammon on the Internet again and I lost rather badly yesterday. I was wondering if you’d like to help me once more.”

  His heart sank. He never liked helping her punish herself, but he did not dare refuse because there was too much risk that she would accidentally injure herself or even die if he let her do it alone. “You didn’t ask me to watch you play the game?” Previously, she had asked him to watch when she played high-stakes games, presumably to ensure that she did not cheat on herself by ignoring her losses.

  “No. I thought that it would be too boring for you. I’ve been playing a lot over the past few weeks and mostly I win. When I’ve lost, it has only been for minor penalties that I could
impose on myself without your help. Things like wearing a tight chain pressing into my crotch while I take a walk in the park or not wearing a bra under a tee shirt when I go shopping. Little things that I could do myself without any risk. Yesterday, though, I got a lot of bad rolls and I’m in pretty deep. I was wondering if you’d watch over me when I pay this one off.”

  “Sure. When?”

  There was a long pause. Craig knew that she had to gather her courage before committing herself to a specific time. When she finally spoke there was a slight quaver in her voice, “Would this weekend be okay for you?” She must something in mind that would be especially hard. “If not, then some other weekend soon?”

  “This weekend is okay. What time?”

  She paused again, and then said, “Well, that’s the thing. It’ll take all weekend. It’s going to be a long, drawn out affair.” She rushed to add, “But you don’t have to be there all the time. You just have to check in once in a while to make sure that I’m still all right and that everything is proceeding as it’s supposed to. If you could drop by every few hours or so, that’d be all the help that I need. It doesn’t even have to be that often. It’s only really important that you drop by for a few minutes each morning and evening.”