Simon Says

4

By the next day, of course, her happiness was alloyed by more rational thoughts. Her back throbbed, and the welts there gave her sharp pains if she moved too suddenly. The memory of how she had bared her breasts for Bertrand still brought a flush to her cheeks, and flashes of anger at herself for having done so. And the memory of Simon's punishment of her, his lovemaking and his subsequent tenderness, brought such a jumble of emotions that she could hardly sort them out. His unusually intense passion seemed to have been aroused by his beating of her, by her pain and suffering. Could that be true? And if so, had his fervent declarations of his love for her have had the same cause? Was that the way to win and hold his love? To let him hurt her? It was unthinkable. It was monstrous. It couldn't be.

He had punished her because she had defied him, even though she had given in at the end. And she remembered that earlier, he had said that her not obeying him would kill his love for her, would make their marriage an empty shell. But if she didn't defy him any more--if she did the things he asked of her, even if it meant shaming herself, degrading herself--would he then still love her, would he still be tender with her, without having to punish her? But that would mean losing even more of her pride, killing something within herself and making herself into a whore. Would it be worth it, to keep his love? Her mind said no. But her heart told her that to lose his love would be unbearable. How could she live without it? She would do anything to keep that love alive, her heart said. Anything.
But could she?

These doubts and fears, however, were pushed into the background of her consciousness over the remainder of their honeymoon, as Simon once again became the loving and considerate man she had fallen in love with. Their days were filled with sightseeing, travel and stimulating cultural activities. It was true that Simon did not again make love to her with the special intensity, avidity and passion he had shown on the night of the whipping, but the sex was still good, as it had always been, and Elaine told herself she didn't need anything more. If things stayed on this even keel, she would be more than content.

They stayed that way until their return home.

Simon's parents had given them their town house in the city as a wedding present, along with its staff of servants, some of whom Simon had known since he was a boy. Elaine had not actually seen the house before, but she loved it at once, even though it was much larger and more elaborate than any place she had ever lived in before. It was like a palace, and it was hers. Hers and Simon's. It was like a dream come true.

The servants were all gathered in the large entrance hall to meet them on their arrival, just like in a movie, Elaine thought. There were perhaps a dozen altogether--maids, cooks, a butler, a chauffeur, she couldn't keep track of them all. Simon introduced her to each of them, beginning with the butler, who he called Bates, a thin, rather elderly white-haired man with a dignified bearing, and then going on to the rest, evidently in order of rank. Each of them gave a little bow or curtseyed respectfully as she greeted them. She almost had to giggle at the absurd formality of it all, but she managed not to. There was also a kind of rigor and dignity to it that appealed to her in spite of herself.

And then Simon said, "I'm sure you'll want to change your clothes, Elaine, after your long journey. Just take off what you're wearing and give it to Sarah here. She will have it cleaned for you. Lawrence will bring the luggage to our room, and then you can change."

For a moment she was confused. Surely he didn't mean--but of course not. "Fine," she said. "I'll bring the things down to you, Sarah."

"No," Simon said. "Just give them to her now, Elaine. It's easier that way."

Now she stared at him. The blood was pounding in her head. Oh god, he did. She couldn't believe it. He wanted her to take her clothes off in front of all the servants! How could he--

"Simon," she said.

"Yes, darling?" He was actually smiling at her.

She had to swallow. "I'll change upstairs, Simon," she said, as evenly as she could.

"Elaine--"

"I'll change upstairs," she repeated, and, trying not to cry, she moved to the staircase and started up. She didn't know which room was theirs, but when she got to the top she went into the first room she came to and closed the door.

Then the tears came.

A moment later the door opened and Simon came in. His face was a mask of rage. As she turned to him, about to say something, he slapped her as hard as he could across the face. She fell back with a cry, landing across the bed. Simon moved to stand over her, and she shrank away.

"You haven't learned, Elaine," Simon said, his voice trembling with fury. "How could you do that to me? To shame me in front of the servants! How could you?" His hand rose again, and she cringed, but then the hand dropped.

"No," he said, making a visible effort to control himself. "Not this way. I am not some drunken brute lashing out in anger, although god knows you have given me cause. I told you you would have to learn to be a proper wife, Elaine. I told you that if you did not the punishment would be worse than before. Take off your clothes, Elaine."

She was really frightened now. "Simon, please..."

"Take them off. Now."

She shook her head reflexively. "Simon, listen..."

He lunged at her and grabbed at her blouse, ripping it down the front. Almost before she could react he had torn her brassiere from her with one tug. She tried to get away from him, but it was useless. He was ripping at her skirt, shredding her panties. Her weak struggles had no effect whatever. In a minute her clothing lay around her in rags and she was naked. Without pause he grabbed her hands and, as he had on the previous occasion, wrapped one of her torn stockings around her wrists and tied them together.

She could barely speak. "Simon," she choked out. "Simon, don't..."

"You must learn, Elaine," he repeated. Pushing her down on her back, he pulled her arms over her head and used her other stocking to tie her fastened wrists to the rail at the head of the bed. She was sobbing now, but he paid no attention. Her fear increased when he tied her brassiere around her ankles, and fastened that in turn to the foot of the bed with a strip of her ruined skirt. She was lying not on her stomach this time, but on her back, stretched out and helpless. A cry of fright came from her throat when Simon unbuckled his belt and pulled it off.

"I told you it would be worse, Elaine," Simon said. "I warned you. You didn't listen." And with that he raised the belt and lashed it down with what seemed to be all his strength across the hills of her breasts.

The scream that came from her was like no sound she had ever heard before, from herself or anyone else. But then she had never imagined such pain either. She didn't think she could bear it without passing out, but she remained fully conscious. She could feel herself pulling reflexively at the bindings at her wrists and ankles, but they held tight.

"No!" she screamed out as she saw Simon heft the belt again. "No, Simon, please!" But he whipped her again, again across the breasts, again producing an ear-shattering shriek and the convulsive bucking of her helpless body. He hadn't gagged her this time, he obviously had no qualms about her screaming, though she was sure the servants must be able to hear her. That alone would have made her shrivel with shame if it hadn't been for the agony that was blocking out most of her conscious world.

The third blow slashed a line of fire across her stomach, and the next one across her thighs. Both were delivered with enough strength to draw a grunt from Simon as he brought the belt down, and both made her scream again, although even in her torment she was glad he was no longer whipping her breasts. But then he did, again, even harder than before, lashing them twice more, the second blow falling on the twisting, spasming body even before the gut-wrenching scream caused by the first had died away.

Simon stopped then. He stood above her, still holding the belt, panting a little from exertion. She was sobbing and gasping, her body throbbing with pain, still twisting a little in the aftermath of the seemingly unbearable torment. "Are you ready to do as I ask, Elaine?" he demanded.

She could barely think. But she knew she couldn't take any more punishment. She found herself nodding spastically, the moans and sobs still issuing from her mouth. Simon untied her hands and feet and helped her to sit up. She didn't think she could move, but she found it was easier than she thought, although her breasts were still on fire, and her thighs and stomach throbbed terribly. Simon waited patiently until her sobs had diminished and her gasping breath had returned nearly to normal. He handed her a handkerchief and told her to dry her eyes and blow her nose.

"All right, Elaine," he said then. "Now I would like you to do what I asked you to do before. I want you to take your clothing downstairs and give it to Sarah to take care of."

She stared at him with eyes still not completely dry. "But--but my clothes are all torn..." she panted. "They're just...just rags now..."

"I don't care," Simon said. "I want my orders carried out. Now, Elaine."

She realized she was trembling as she slowly, weakly gathered up the remnants of the clothes she had been wearing. When she had found them all, she stood holding the useless pieces of cloth in her hands, looking at Simon as if in a daze. Simon moved to the door of the bedroom and opened it. "Go ahead," he told her. "The servants are still there. I instructed them to wait for you."

Oh my god, she thought. They had all been standing there all this time, hearing her screams, knowing... Her legs felt weak and her trembling intensified. And now she was to do down there like this, naked for all of them to see... It was unthinkable. If only she could at least put something on... She looked at Simon with mute appeal. For a moment she wanted to ask him, to beg him...but it was no use. He just stood there, holding the door for her, waiting. Waiting for her to obey.

I can't, she thought. What would he do if she refused? Whip her some more? She couldn't take that. Or would he just withdraw from her, not love her any more, as he had once threatened to do? Somehow the thought of that was even more fearful to her. How could she feel that way? But she did.

She heard herself making little whimpering sounds, but she choked them off. On her shaking legs, she forced herself to move to the door. Past Simon, out into the hallway. To the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs, the group of servants was still standing. They looked up at her as she began to descend slowly, carrying the little bundle of rags in front of her. It didn't hide very much. Their faces were a blur to her still damp eyes, but she felt their eyes on her, felt them devouring her naked body. Especially the men. She was sure they could see the marks that Simon's belt had left on her. With every step she wanted to turn and run back up, back to the room, but she made herself continue. Walking naked down the stairs as they watched.

She was still trembling as she reached the bottom and turned to them. She moved to the girl named Sarah and wordlessly handed her the little bundle of what had once been her clothing. The girl took it from her with a little curtsey. Now that her hands were free, her impulse was to cover herself with them as best she could, but she resisted. That would seem even more shameful somehow. As quickly as she could without seeming to run, she turned away and mounted the stairs, feeling their eyes again following her as she did so.

In the room she found Simon sitting on the bed, naked now, his penis ragingly erect. As she came in he lunged for her, attacking her so fiercely that he bore her to the floor and made love to her right there, in a way that he hadn't done since that night in Paris when he had first punished her. His uncontrolled animal passion thrilled her beyond imagining, and she responded in kind, even though his roughness exacerbated the pain that still throbbed in her body. It didn't matter; he wanted her, he needed her, and in his taking of her he was also giving himself over to her in a way that was all too rare, and that seemed the fulfillment of all her dreams. She climaxed again and again, shrieking out her joy and ecstasy to the world. It was only later that she wondered if the servants had still been listening.

Afterward he carried her to the bed and lay with her in such tenderness that it seemed impossible that this was the same man who had whipped her with such fury only an hour earlier. Her tears now were tears of bliss as he expressed his love for her, telling her that no woman had ever been to him what she was. "We will be together forever," he told her, as she clung to him in complete rapture. "Husband and wife, always. And you will now be my true obedient wife, won't you, Elaine?"

She tried to ignore the sudden chill that seemed to threaten the perfection of her happiness. She could not allow it to do that. Nothing was going to come between her and Simon now, nothing could be permitted to stand in the way of this perfect love.

"Yes, Simon," she whispered. "Yes, I will. I will."

Because she loved him.

Even if she hated herself.