### BZ-155 ###
Hell At The Old Harrison Place
By Unknown


CHAPTER ONE

Have you ever seen the old Harrison place,” Clayton asked Walt as they were drinking 
beers at the local bar they both frequented after grueling days of frustration, scraped knuckles
and twisted backs.

“Sure. What about it? Other than it’s older than both of us combined,” Walt responded as 
he licked some foam off his upper lip.

“Ever take a good look at the plumbing in it?”

“Plumbing? Why the hell would I be interested in hundred year-old plumbing? Hell, I see 
enough all day long without going out of my way to look at antique pipes.”

“Yea, me too. But there’s something about that old stuff that I just can’t get out of mind. 
And the Harrison place is… hell, I don’t know. But it pulls me for some reason.”

“Probably envisioning having to redo it and get it all inside walls instead of exposed. They 
sure as hell didn’t do much planning when they renovated that place. But hell, that was years 
ago. You’ve worked on more ancient homes, haven’t you?”

“Yea, but I… I just can’t seem to get it out of mind. Gary was telling the other day that it 
was on the market and for some reason, I stopped by to look at it. And there’s something 
there. I don’t know what it is, but something is telling me to buy the damned place.”

“What the hell for. My God, Clay, you can’t be serious about it. Are you? Shit, it’s a 
monstrosity. It has to have, what? forty rooms? And it isn’t just the damned plumbing that 
needs work. The whole place is about to fall down. You can’t be serious.” Leaning forward, 
placing his hands on the table, Clay looked at Walt with an intent look as he said, “Have you 
every been there?”

“Yea. About five years ago when the last fools bought it and thought they could do 
something with. Why?”

“Did you see the exposed plumbing?”

“Shit, yea. I’d have to be blind not to. So?”

“I don’t know but…” Taking another sip of beer Clay got a strange look in his eye. “I was 
standing there, in one of the basement rooms and I thought I saw something.”

“What? A cockroach?”

“No. It was weird, but I swear I saw a naked woman and…”

“A what?” Walt laughed, “And how many beers had you had?”

“None. Absolutely none. I was as sober as a preacher’s daughter on Sunday night. But I 
saw a naked woman there. And that’s not all. She was tied to the exposed plumbing as if she 
were an integral part of it. As if she belonged there. With ropes holding her to the bare pipes.”

“Right. And I saw a purple elephant on Main Street last Friday.”

“I’m telling you, I saw her. She was real. I could see her chest rising and falling as she 
breathed. I saw her as plain as I see you right now. And she was tied to the pipes. And she 
said…”

“Hell, don’t stop now, for Christ’s sake. What the hell did she say?”

Looking Walt straight in the eye, without a flicker of teasing or sarcasm, he brushed a stray
lock of hair off his forehead. “She said, in almost a whisper, Hurt me.’”

“Hurt me? Right. And she had pink hair, too, didn’t she? Let’s face it, Clay, you’ve seen too 
many movies at the Art and are beginning to believe them. I suppose you reached out and 
belted her one, too, huh?”

“No. I did reach for her. But she vanished. Just like that.” Snapping his fingers. “She was 
gone. But the even stranger part was, the ropes were still there.”

The… the ropes were still there. Come on, Clay, you don’t really expect me to believe this 
cock and bull do you?”

“Do you believe this?” Reaching into his pocket he pulled out two strands of rope. Ancient,
dried, frayed and yellowed rope and placed it on the table. “How old would you guess this is, 
Walt? Twenty? Thirty? Or how about a hundred years old? Look at it.”

Clay dropped the aged rope on the table and watched Walt slowly pick it up and run it 
through his hands.

“Okay, so you found some old rope. What does that prove?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll tell you something else. When I saw this rope on her, holding her to 
the pipes, it looked new. It was pure white, unfrayed and looked sturdy as hell. I had Doc run 
some age tests on it at his lab, and guess what. It tested one hundred and ten years old. And 
the Harrison place is a hundred and twenty. Ever heard the rumors about the original owner 
of it? Ever hear that it was some man by the name of Jethro Redington?”

“Redington? No… no wait, I did hear something about him. But what was it?”

“Jethro Redington was hung ninety years ago. The only hanging ever recorded in the 
town. Do you remember why he was hung?”

“Now that you mention it, wasn’t it something about abducting women?”

“Something like that. They proved that he had captured ten women. He tortured them. 
And eventually killed them. But one got away and told the authorities and he was arrested. 
They tried to prove he killed others, as high as twenty more, but couldn’t. But they did convict 
him of torturing and killing nine.”

“Okay, the man was a nut, but what does that have to do with the woman you thought 
you saw there?”

“After I left there, I was… I don’t know, curious, I guess. Anyway, I decided to look up the 
history of the house at the library. Among other things, would you like to hear about the 
woman who testified against him?”

“Sure. Why not.”

“There was a picture of her. Old and very faded, but still recognizable.”

“And?”

“And she was the woman I saw there.”

“The…?”

“Yes, the woman I saw. And you want to hear the kicker?” Walt nodded before Clay would 
answer. “She was his wife.”

“His wife!”

“Yep, his wife. If she hadn’t spilled the beans on him, they would have been married one 
year the day he was hung.”

“Are you saying that her… ghost is there? In the house?”

“If it isn’t, it’s a damned good copy of her.” Clay paused to take a drink of beer before 
continuing. “Care to hear how she died?”

“Well, yea, sure. How?”

“She was found hung in his house the night he was hung. According to the newspaper 
articles on microfilm at the library, no evidence of wrongful play could be proven. She didn’t 
have any marks on her. In fact her hands were free, hanging at her side. But her feet were tied 
to some beams. How do you explain that one?”

“How the hell am I suppose to explain it, for Christ’s sake.”

“And according to one article, she had a damned smile on her face. Can you imagine that? 
Smiling as she was hung. But for some reason I believe it.

I saw her. And she was smiling at me as she asked me to hurt her.”

*

Clayton Trudo became obsessed with the Harrison, or as he liked to think of it, the 
Redington house, and the woman he had seen there. Every free time he had, he spent 
investigating the story of the Redington trial, Jethro and his wife and the circumstances 
leading up to the trial. But it wasn’t until he found a reference to the diary that he began to 
hope that he could discover the truth.

The diary of Rachel Coughlin Redington. Jethro’s wife.

The first reference he saw of it was in the town library, stating that it had been taken to the
capital and placed in an archives file of state records. That night he placed a call to 
Congressman Gregory, one of his best friends and had him look into it and see if he could 
Clay a photocopy of her diary.

Ten days later the two of them were reading it at Clay’s house. Five hours later, and a 
corresponding number of beers, they were both too stunned to really comprehend what they 
had just read.

“Rachel must have been… an unusual woman, wouldn’t you say, Frank?”

“Yea. And Dr. Frankenstein was noted for being a bit odd to others. Shit, Clay, the 
transformation of Rachel from timid, withdrawn and almost a recluse to a…”

“The word is slave, Frank. A sex slave. Can you imagine allowing, even begging, for him to 
do what he did to her and the others as she watched. I’ll say one thing, if her diary is stating 
the truth, old Jethro had one hell of an imagination. At least when it came to hurting women. 
She makes him sound mild when compared to the Spanish Inquisition.”

“Tell me about it. The thing I still don’t understand is why she finally told the authorities 
about him. According to all the articles during the trial it was never even suspected. Why 
would she suddenly turn him in?”

“Jealousy. Pure, unadulterated, spiteful jealousy. She wanted all of his attention. Didn’t 
want to share him with anyone else. Hell, read this part again,” pointing to the passage in the 
diary.

“Jethro said that he wouldn’t touch me during my woman’s time and he took Jeanette 
downstairs. I had to see what they were doing, so I crept down the stairs and looked around 
the door. I thought I’d scream at all the attention he was giving her.

I had obviously missed Jethro disrobing Jeanette because her clothing was lying 
haphazardly on the floor near the new metal thing he was working on. But as I watched, I saw 
him reach for a wooden device that looked something like a huge H with two crossing lines in 
the middle instead of one.

At first I didn’t know what it was. I had never seen it before, and that made me even 
madder than I had been. Why was he making things for others? But as he removed one side 
of the H and reached around her naked body with it in his hands and starting pulling it 
around her, I knew.

The two crossing bars of the H fit next to her ribs and as she held it in place for him, Jethro
began to screw the other side of the H back in place. The side that her full breasts rested on. 
Her breasts that would be getting all the love and attention mine wanted, but were denied 
because I still wasn’t with child for my husband and he was punishing me for that fact with 
another woman.”

“Okay, Rachel was jealous. But what made her finally break and turn him in,” Frank asked 
as he, too, couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the copy of the diary any more than Clay could.

“I don’t know. But by reading this diary, we know that Rachel became almost as obsessed 
with pain as a sexual stimuli as old Jethro did, only in reverse. There are several references to 
her getting mad when he was with others, of wishing she was in their place. I think she was 
afraid that someone else would finally get pregnant and leave her. Jethro did seem obsessed 
with having children. He made such a big deal about his bastard son, anyway. And I think 
Rachel knew how much he wanted one, and she wanted to be the one to it to him.”

“That’s probably it, Clay. But why are you so obsessed with uncovering their story? Are you
seriously considering buying that place?”

“I am, Frank. I don’t know why, but I am dead serious. It’s as if something is pulling me. I 
can’t get it out of my mind. I put a deposit down on it this morning.”

“Why, for God’s sake, why?”

“I don’t know. It’s almost as if I had to. And besides, the price was right and-Ginger even 
likes it too.”

“Ginger likes it because she can see that you are so obsessed with it and she wants to take 
your name.”

“Well, Frank, what the hell’s wrong with that? We do love each other and are getting 
married in a couple of months, you know.”

“I don’t know, Clay, but… you’ve changed lately and I’m not real sure if I like it. But,” 
standing up to leave, “I sure as hell wish you two luck. Especially if your planning to live in that
monstrosity of a house.”

“Thanks. And thanks for getting me a copy of her diary, too. You coming over next 
weekend for the poker party at Walt’s?”

“Sure as hell am. Even Congressmen have to have some fun, you know. See you then.”

When Frank left Clay’s eyes went back to Rachel’s diary and he picked it up and continued 
reading about Rachel spying on Jethro and Jeanette where he had stopped earlier.

When the side of the H was firmly in place, Jethro took the manacles hanging from each 
cross bar and fastened them to Jeanette’s wrist as her nipples began to get hard. Oh, she 
knew what he was going to do with her nipples too. She even had the nerve to hold her 
manacled hands under the wood that supported her breasts as Jethro took some slender rope
and began to tie it to her lucky nipples.

He tied each very tightly and mine ached to be in their place as very slowly he began to 
pull her left nipple toward the end of the H. Stretching it as Jeanette moaned in pleasure.

I had to turn my head to see him tie the other end of the rope to a small ring on the 
bottom of the board. Oh, to be in Jeanette’s place as her nipple was pulled so tight her breast 
traveled toward the end of the H board as he tied it off. I had to bring my hands to my own 
nipples and pinch and pull them just so I wouldn’t rush into the room to beg Jethro to let me 
take Jeanette’s place with the H pulling my breasts and nipples as they were doing hers.

After tying the last knot he stood back and that slut Jeanette had the nerve to smile at my 
husband as she let her nipples support the H frame surrounding her.

“Lower your hands, Jeanette, and pull you beautiful breasts for me. You do that for me,” 
my husband told her, “and I’ll whip them as long as you pull them for me.”

And the slut did. She lowered her hands. The ropes attached to her nipples stretched her 
full, fat breasts as Jethro whipped her breasts the entire time. I thought I’d die with the 
pleasures he was giving to another woman. My fingers dug into my own breasts. I pulled my 
nipples, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t Jethro doing it to me.

I must have made a sound, or Jethro knew I was there. I didn’t even notice the whip had 
stopped when his hand grabbed my hair so hard he pulled some out and drug me into the 
room with them, making my shame even greater.

“Take off your clothes, Rachel, and make Jeanette come with your mouth.”

He knew I didn’t like to do that, although I had many times in the past to please him. I 
started to protest, but his words stopped me.

“You make her come with your mouth and I’ll let you trade places with her and I’ll whip 
your breasts instead. You want that, don’t you, Rachel? You want me to spend all my time and 
effort on you, don’t you?”

I couldn’t deny him. Besides, it wouldn’t do any good. He knew he spoke the truth. I took 
off my clothing and knelt in front of Jeanette and took her in my mouth. Oh, she was a hot 
bitch, but who could blame her as Jethro continued to whip her lucky breasts the entire time I 
worked away with my mouth at her leaking cunt until she exploded.

Then bless Jethro, he did exchange us as I was the fortunate one with my breasts and 
nipples attached to the wooden H. And he knew how it effected me. He had know since our 
wedding night that pain made my blood boil with passions as nothing else could.

I reveled in my pain. I pulled my wrists down so far the ropes almost slipped off my 
stretched nipples and still I pulled them more as Jethro stood in front of me and smiled. His 
knowing smile. Knowing that I would do anything he asked of me.

Even pull my own nipples for his entertainment as he laid Jeanette on the floor and began 
to make love to her body instead of mine. When his glorious manhood was deep inside her, 
he added to my humiliation and made me kneel beside them on the floor.

“Reach up, Jeanette, and pull my wife’s useless tits. Pull the damned ropes off her nipples 
while I fuck you.”

Neither Jeanette nor I could refuse him.

I leaned over so the wooden board attached to my breasts was directly over her twisting 
body. She reached her hands up and a second later I was in a magnificent agony. The wooden
edges of the H scrapped across my ribs as my breasts headed toward the floor. My hands 
reached out. One captured one of her breasts, the other her face as we both played the sex 
slave for my husband as he made love to Her.

The wooden bar behind my back and pressing into my bent arms felt razor sharp as 
Jeanette pulled on the frame connected to my body. Her passions soared and I truly think she 
was unaware of the pain she was giving me as Jethro brought her to one shattering climax 
after another. Our screams intermixed until neither of us could tell one from the other.

And then Jethro came. His bellowing yell filled the room and without a thought my 
bleeding cunt came right along with him. It had been trained to do just that, no matter the 
circumstances.

It was too much. Clay set the diary aside and freed his swollen cock. The second it was free
his hand was wrapped around it and pumping up and down as his eyes remained glued to the
open diary in front of him. Less than a minute later he was joining the three long dead people 
in the diary with his own groans and yells of reached climax.

His white ropey cream sputtered into the air, a big glob landing on the open pages of 
Rachel’s diary and he thought it an appropriate tribute to the woman who had written it. But 
he wasn’t really seeing the diary.

He was seeing the woman in the basement room of Jethro Redington’s house. And as his 
mind remembered her every feature he suddenly realized that she looked exactly like Ginger, 
his fiance.

Giving his cock one last pumping squeeze, he wondered why that fact had never come to 
him before. Rachel’s likeness in the old newspaper articles to Ginger was unmistakable. They 
could have been twins.

Was it only a coincidence? Or was there something he was missing?

Or had he become so wrapped up in the Redington stories and Rachel’s diary that he was 
attributing a likeness when there wasn’t one?

Well, one thing was for sure. He’d have to do some more investigating.

And get a copy of Rachel Coughlin Redington’s picture to compare it with Ginger.

He wiped his discharge off the diary, closed it and took it to his room. His nightly shower 
over, Clay turned off the light and got into bed.

*

The next morning he remembered that he had had the strangest dreams. He couldn’t 
remember them all, he hardly ever did remember dreams, but there was a feeling left from 
them. A feeling as if they were trying to tell him something of major importance. He couldn’t 
exactly put his finger on it.

But it had something to do with Jethro Redington, Rachel Coughlin Redington, Ginger and
him. Something that tied them all together in some way. And that nagging something was 
enough to make him spend another Saturday morning in the library trying to discover what it 
was.

Adjusting the microfilm in the machine, Clay turned the knob to enlarge the image of 
Rachel Coughlin Redington until it filled the screen. Pressing the correct button, he took a 
photocopy of her likeness.

A second later the image slid out of the machine and he picked it up.

No doubt about it. Rachel Coughlin Redington was the spitting image of Ginger Phillips.

Rewinding the microfilm and giving it back to the librarian, Clay carefully folded the copy 
of Rachel’s picture and put it in his pocket.

“Tell me, Mrs. Jackson, do you know if there is any genealogy of the Redingtons? Is there a 
way to trace their descendants,” Clay asked the helpful librarian that had assisted his quest 
over the weeks.

“I… don’t know, Clay. Let me think. I do seem to remember that I have heard it mentioned 
at one time. I think it was Mr. Harrison, you know, the previous owner of the Redington house,
made the inquires.”

She paused as if thinking deeply on the subject, and Clay knew before she spoke that she 
had remembered what had been alluding her.

“The bicentennial journals. That’s where he found it. Remember all the people who were 
tracing back their ancestors when the American bicentennial was being planned for the town? 
We combined them all into the town’s genealogy book so future generations wouldn’t have 
so much trouble tracing their ancestors.”

“Where is the town genealogy book?”

“It’s right over here.”

They walked over to the shelve and when Mrs. Jackson pointed out the book, Clay took it 
down.

“Thank you Mrs. Jackson. You’re a doll,” and to express his gratitude even farther, he gave 
her a smacking kiss on her aged cheek before taking the huge volume over to one of the 
tables.

They were ten pages apart.

Rachel Coughlin’s sister, Meridith, had married a Joseph L. Phillips. They were Ginger’s 
great grandparents.

Clayton Trudo was the great grandson of Marshall Trudo.

The bastard son of Jethro Redington by his mistress, Caroline Trudo.

Clay didn’t bother writing down that information in the fast filling note book he was 
compiling on the Redington history. He didn’t think they were facts he was likely to forget.

Ever.

But what did it all mean?

He was the great, great grandson of Jethro Redington, granted the illegitimate side of the 
family, but Marshall Trudo was the only know child of old Jethro. It didn’t bother Clay that his 
great grandfather was a bastard, or that Ginger was Rachel’s great, great niece. But what he 
couldn’t get out of his mind, what he couldn’t answer, was why.

Why was there such a similarity between Rachel and Ginger?

Was there a similar likeness between him and Jethro? And if there was, what did any of it 
prove?

“Mrs. Jackson do you know if there is a surviving likeness of Jethro Redington?”

“Oh, my, yes. We had to look real hard for it for the town genealogy book. If I remember 
correctly, it’s on page twenty or so.”

It wasn’t on page twenty. It was on page twenty-two.

And it was like Clay was looking at himself, except for the small mustache Jethro had and 
Clay didn’t.

<<< IMAGE 01 >>>





CHAPTER TWO


The sunlight streamed into Ginger Phillip’s room as she laid back against the headboard of 
her bed with a dreamy expression on her face. Her eyes closed, she allowed herself to sink into
the thrilling and terrifying realm of fantasy as she had for as long as she could remember.

Her earliest recollections of her youth were of similar visions. Visions that she didn’t know 
where they came from. What they meant. Or what they foretold.

But now at age twenty she knew exactly what they meant.

And they scared her to death.

At first, maybe at the age of eight or nine, they had been simple visions of childhood 
games. Cowboys and Indians, or Settlers and Indians, to be specific. But the theme in each one
of them was the same. She was always the victim.

Sometimes she was captured by Indians, sometimes by grasping cowboys, or some other 
such group. But in each, the scenes were the same. She was the victim. She was the one tied 
to the post and whipped. The one that was placed in a multitude of wicked bondage devices.

As she grew older the scenes began to change. Change to bondage scene that 
incorporated sex. Each more elaborate than the last until she knew that her secret mind was 
telling her what she truly craved. But so far she had been unable, or unwilling, to act upon the 
many fantasies that continued to grow and be acted out in her mind.

Behind closed eyes, in the privacy of her own room, Ginger allowed herself to “experience”
the full force of her fantasies. And they were fantastic. Each and every one of them sent silent 
messages throughout her entire body.

Her pulse rate increased to alarming proportions. Her nipples grew hard, begging for 
harsh attention.

Her pussy became a caldron of leaking lustful wants.

Oh, yes. Her fantasies were very vivid, and as she curled herself into a more comfortable 
position on her bed, she let the current fantasy have free reign over her mind and most 
especially over her body…

It was late at night. Clayton had driven her home after some very satisfying sex, but not 
satisfying enough. She needed sex of a different variety and set out to see what she could 
find.

Walking down the dark, lonely, deserted streets of her home town, Ginger walked with a 
sauntering grace that totally belied her intentions. Intentions of bondage, pain and harsh sex. 
Dressed in a skimpy halter top and cutoff jeans that were so frayed that half her ass showed, 
Ginger thought that she was projecting the correct image for what she had in mind.

All she needed was the correct corresponding male to come along and take advantage of 
what she was secretly offering. Perhaps it was a bit foolish to walk in this section of town, but 
she knew it was the only place offering what she knew she wanted. She sure as hell wasn’t 
about to get “raped” walking down the main boulevard that were well light, well patrolled by 
the local police and filled with the more refined nightlife the town offered.

No. For what she was looking for she was in the right part of town-the “wrong side of 
town”. There was a definite depressed feeling of poverty, depravation, squander and 
helplessness as she walked down the litter strewn streets. More than half of the street lights 
were either burnt out or shot out, if one judged by the gapping holes in them.

Oh, yes, she was in the right place all right and when she saw some shadowy figure move 
in even deeper shadows she knew that the time had arrived. Making her steps even slower, 
her hips swaying just a bit more, Ginger tried to keep her eyes off the moving form coming 
slowly toward her out of the deep darkness.

Her second step past the end of the dark alley was the opportune time as strong arms 
encircled her upper body in their strong, crushing embrace. A second later a wide strip of duct
tape was slapped over her mouth by a wide palmed hand and her body was jerked backwards 
toward the just pasted alley.

In keeping with her desired theme, Ginger struggled as much as she could in the man’s 
strong and ever tightening hold. But, fortunately, it did no good. He was much, much stronger
than she was. And of course there was the fact that she really did not want to escape.

Oh, no. Not in the least.

So far, so good, in her opinion as the man drug her deeper and deeper into the dark 
alleyway. Trash cans were tipped over in her ineffective struggles.

The man gave a muffled groan when her heel connected with his shin. A prowling cat gave
a screech of pain when a toe connected with its tail end. And someone yelled from a nearby 
window to keep the noise the hell down.

All of which just added more and more to Ginger’s fantasy as burly hands made quick and 
somewhat painful contact with her scantly covered tits. But as she continued to “struggle” he 
really could not devote all that much time to them. But that would come later, she was sure.

The man she was struggling against was obviously very strong and muscular. His biceps 
actually dug into hers as strong fingers made more harsh contact to her more than eager 
boobies. Yes, things were definitely looking up in her opinion as he freed one hand to open a 
door. Naturally the door creaked open in protest sending yet another shiver down Ginger’s 
spine as it slammed shut behind them.

She could see absolutely nothing. It was pitch black in the room they had just entered. But 
that fact didn’t slow or stop her attacker in the least. He obviously knew the place well, she 
thought, as she heard and felt a section of her halter top tear.

She was vaguely aware of passing doorways, around corners and down a flight of stairs as 
they made their way through the darkness. Closing a door behind them with another slam, 
Ginger assumed they had reached their destination when the man finally turned on a light and
she was instantly blinded by its harsh glare.

So far not one word had been spoken.

Slowly Ginger’s eyes began to adjust to the light and she looked around.

Oh, my God!

It was too much to be real. Stone walls. Chains. Manacles. Strange metal devices 
abounded, most of which she had no idea of their intent. But each looked wickedly evil and 
threatening as hell. But her surveying was cut short when she felt her wrists encased, instantly, 
in metal.

She had been handcuffed. Just like that. Handcuffed. And if that wasn’t enough to scare 
her the contents of the room were. And to be honest she was scared. Mildly. But not overly so.
No, her strongest emotion was pure and simple lust. The right kind of man had taken her, now
the show was up to him.

Suddenly it was dark again. She was now wearing a blindfold. She smiled behind the tape 
over her mouth. Oh, yes. A very good character indeed.

She heard rustling sounds coming from across the room and could only guess at the cause
of them. Her guess was the man was removing his clothing, as she heard a zipper being 
lowered in a hurry and what sounded like a button popping off to land on the stone floor 
near her feet. Goose bumps began to parade up and down her arms, her back and across her 
chest. Her nipples were rock hard at the ends of her full, heaving breasts.

Ginger felt the man approach her slowly. She almost knew he was reaching out for her 
hard capped tits, and that thought was confirmed a second later. Along with the fact that she 
suddenly smelt the intoxicating smell of leather.

He was wearing leather gloves on his hands. The hands that were in full possession of both
of her tits and both were squeezing and compressing the shit out of both of them as she 
struggled not to pull away. Somehow Ginger didn’t think the man would be pleased if she 
pulled away from him. And of course there was the fact that she really didn’t want to anyway. 
She liked her tits squeezed. Especially if the hands doing the squeezing were wearing leather 
gloves.

Then again she was blinded by the bright lights of the room as the blindfold was jerked off
her eyes, accompanied by several strands of her hair, too. She was given no time to adjust her 
eyes as suddenly her arms were jerked up.

Her body bent forward at her waist as her arms were stretched up and up and up behind 
her until she thought for sure they would be pulled out of her shoulder sockets. Cool metal 
slid between her opposing hands and a moment later she knew that the handcuffs had been 
attached to a hanging hook.

She sure as hell wasn’t going to go anywhere.

Blinking several times to clear her eyes, Ginger again began to look around at her 
surroundings.

They had not improved in the interim. They still looked decisively evil. Almost everything 
was constructed of metal, or had metal parts, or metal fasteners, or metal chains connecting 
various parts together. And what wasn’t metal was leather, at least all she could see through 
her hanging hair that blocked much of her viewing capacity.

But she had absolutely no problems seeing the huge leather covered paddle that the man 
had picked up. He was holding it directly under her downward pointing eyes. Right between 
her face and the floor. Oh, no, she had no trouble seeing it at all. Well, until he moved it, that 
is. Moved it out of her line of vision.

Somehow she just knew where it was being taken to. Less than a minute later her thoughts
were confirmed as her ass was suddenly consumed in fire. An eternity later she finally heard 
the harsh cracking sound of the leather paddle striking her bent over and offered ass echo 
around the room.

That sound had no more than faded away that it was repeated again. And again. And 
again as her ass began to heat up at an alarming rate. She swore that she could actually feel 
her ass swelling more and more with each progressive swat administered to it.

But what she could feel even more was the devastating effect the paddling was having on 
her slavish cunt. God, was it ever drooling. Getting hotter with each consecutive blow landed. 
Her clit was doing miniature push-ups at the top of her slit ever eager to do what it did best.

Come.

And she was. Coming that is. Coming with each stroke landed on her bruised, overheated, 
pain filled ass. Her nose was insufficient in taking in all the air she needed and she began to 
think she would pass out from lack of oxygen. Just what the hell she needed, to faint and pull 
her arms off her climaxing body!

But the man had other plans for her. He didn’t want her to faint. Oh, no. He wanted to fuck
her. And with her unable to offer any resistance he did exactly that.

Dropping the much used paddle on the floor at his feet, he grabbed each of her hips in his
leather covered hands and very politely picked her up until her wet slit was at the correct 
height and proceeded to ram his full engorged cock up her saturated cunt.

Ginger very politely continued to come with almost every consecutive stroke of his 
pounding cock. She saw no reason to deny herself and it didn’t seem to bother the man 
holding her either. They became a very compatible team. A fucking team. Each concerned with
their own goals, which just happened to be the same.

Ginger succeeded many more times than he did, but he didn’t seem to mind that either as 
he finally joined her in the ultimate culmination of all sexual endeavors. His hot, pumping seed
sending Ginger into yet another climax of her own.

Back in the real world, Ginger slowly licked her fingers dry, took a calming breath and 
decided to let her fantasy continue for at least one more scene, then she would have to 
shower and dress for her date with Clay. But first…

The tape was still firmly glued to her mouth but the handcuffs had been exchanged for 
ropes around her wrists that were still behind her back.

Nice thing about fantasies, they can change scenes without bothering to explain why, or 
when, or how. They just changed as the thought arose.

Standing free, except for the ropes and the tape, Ginger stood in approximately the 
middle of the stone lined room as again her eyes began to travel to see what there was to see.
But they stopped their perusal when the man finally stepped in front of her.

Oh, my God!

The first thing she noticed was the sheer size of him. Massive. The guy had muscles on top 
of muscles. And those on his chest were amply covered with dark, coarse looking hair. But as 
her eyes traveled up his torso Ginger gave a gasp behind her tape.

He was wearing a leather hood.

To her bedazzled eyes it looked to be skin tight covering his entire head and neck. Zippers 
were strategically placed at eye openings and mouth but by looking up at him she could see 
that the nostrils were not similarly zippered. But how in the hell could he see?

Was there enough spacing between the opposing sides of the zippers by his eyes to allow 
some vision? She had to conclude that there was because he appeared to see just fine. Well 
fine enough to make her do what he wanted anyway, as he began to push her toward the side
of the stone room.

Allowing her eyes to travel in the direction she was heading, Ginger suddenly stopped.

No!

No way!

No way in hell did she want to arrive at that thing.

A huge triangular shaped hunk of metal stood in front of her. But there was a definite 
difference between this triangle and others.

It was like someone had taken the point of the top and pressed it down into the triangle 
leaving two ridges at the top instead of one edge. And both ridges were filled with jagged, 
sharp looking metal teeth that gleamed in the bright lights.

But that wasn’t the ultimate scare job.

The spiked metal dildo rising out of the center crease had that honor.

Threatening? Hell, it looked lethal. Damned bloody lethal to any cunt , that happened to 
get within a foot of it. And unfortunately hers was that close.

Struggle as she had it had been useless as the man propelled her across the room until 
she stood shivering next to the weird looking metal device that she just knew she was to 
become quite intimate with, regardless of her desires to the contrary.

That fact proved disappointingly correct as the man reached down and began to raise her 
leg up into the air as he slowly and quite carefully pulled her body toward the metal triangle 
like thing.

Her leg went up, and up. Her foot was soon on the other side, leaving one of each on each
side of the thing. Naturally that left her quaking pussy directly over the spiked dildo just as the
man had planned as he slowly withdrew the support of his hand under her thigh.

Ginger quickly placed her foot on the angled side of the thing but she knew that 
eventually it would have to be lowered because there was no way in hell that she could 
continually support her body on just one foot. That and the fact that the sides of the thing 
were greased and her foot could find little purchase to begin with.

The still silent man came around beside her. She wasn’t sure, but she thought he was 
smiling behind his mask as he reached for a small three stranded whip and began to caress it 
with his free hand as if he had all the time in world.

Perhaps he did. But Ginger sure as hell didn’t.

Her foot was making a slow descent toward the floor at the same alarming rate that her 
opening cunt was coming toward the spikes and ridges.

It was cold, was her first impression as her cunt made first contact with the dildo.

The second impression was that the damned thing was quite wide as the flared end began
to penetrate her well greased slot.

But the wide head was nothing compared with her cunt’s first contact with the spikes.

No doubt about them. They hurt and as she tried to jerk away her foot finally admitted 
defeat against the greased side of the thing that she suddenly found herself impaled upon. 
Every spike found a warm, wet home to sink into as her legs pressed into the tooth ridges at 
the top.

Then to add insult to injury, the man brought the whip down on her defenseless, hard 
capped and hot tits.

That did it, she was fully, totally and painfully impaled onto each and every spike and every
rippling tooth. Her scream was swallowed by the tape as the whip landed on her aching tits 
again and for the first time of the night, the man spoke.

“Fuck it.”

That’s it. That’s all he said but Ginger knew that she had to follow his one and only order.

What choice did she have?

None.

Absolutely none.

So she fucked the spiked dildo and drove both the spikes and the ridges into her flesh as 
her body had the audacity to find sexual satisfaction as they both continued to harm her pain 
starved body.

Ginger rolled over, pressing her face into her pillow as her body rolled and rocked into 
such a shattering climax that she thought, if she were capable of thinking, would make her 
faint from the intensity. Her fingers drove deeply into her overflowing snatch again and again 
as visions of her fantasy still lingered in her mind until they finally faded and her climax began 
to wind down and she could again breath.

Twenty minutes later she was in the shower preparing for her date with Clay for the night. 
He had promised to take her over to the house he had just bought. The house they would 
some day soon make their own, just as soon as they were married. But then marriage was not 
a prerequisite for having sex. Not in the 90’s anyway, as they had already proven time and 
time again.

Ginger was almost sure Clay would want to initiate his house in the proper way, so she 
dressed accordingly in a similar outfit like the one of her most recent fantasy. She was sure 
that Clay would appreciate ample flesh showing both at top and bottom, after all, he always 
had and tonight should be not exception.

*

It was no exception. Clay’s eyes opened wide and a huge grin spread across his face when 
he stepped through her door later that night.

“In a playful mood, Ginger? Or just trying to guarantee a sex filled evening?”

Walking up, placing her arms around his neck, she answered, “Both. And you love it.”

“You’ll get no arguments from me on that count,” he countered as he lowered his mouth 
to hers. Their lips had no more than touched than there was a duel going on. A duel of two 
tongues fighting for the same space within their mouths.

Clay’s hands began a familiar journey around her body, stopping at full ass, up her 
sensitive back, to the sides of her chest until they came to rest on her nipple hardened breasts
as they both tried to deepen the kiss at the same time.

Ginger contented herself with running her fingers through his hair as she pressed her 
public bone into his boner. That action caused both of them to groan and to press even closer
as Clay began a playful squeezing job on her pleading knockers to their mutual satisfaction 
before they finally pulled away from each other.

“If you have any desire to see my house, we had better stop this. At least until we get 
there.”

“Mummm. Your second sentence is much more appealing than your first one, Clay. Let’s 
go.”

It was a long touch-filled ride across town but twenty minutes later they did finally arrive 
and hurried up the front walk. Clay used his key and they were inside.

“So, what do you think?”

“How the hell would I know. Let me see it first. Come on, show me around. I want to see it 
all. From top to bottom.”

“Top to bottom it will be then. This way to the attic.”

The attic was dark and dusty and filled with an assortment of odd boxes, old furniture and 
other things better left to discover during daylight hours.

The upstairs level consisted of four bedrooms, two bathrooms and a small room that had 
probably been a nursery in years gone by. All were dusty but otherwise clean.

The main level was a masterpiece of design. A huge great room, formal dinning room, 
spacious kitchen area with ample cabinets, drawers and storage closets. There was a modest 
library and generous office at one end, opposite the kitchen and away from most noise.

All of which Clay was more than eager to show her, but for him the greatest asset of the 
house was the basement area. The basement where he had seen the ghost of Rachel Coughlin
Redington. The same Rachel who had left a diary filled with almost unbelievable stories about 
her life with Jethro Redington about a hundred years ago.

Ginger’s response to that area might, just might, give Clay the one last clue he needed for 
the conversation he wanted to have with Ginger.

With each click of her shoes against the stone steps, Ginger felt as if she knew what would 
await her at the bottom. And she truly didn’t know if she wanted to descent those steps and 
find out if she was right or not. But with a very eager Clay almost pushing her down, she made
the descent.

At the bottom of the stairs she stopped. It was too much.

It was an almost exact replica of the room of her fantasy of just this afternoon. The only 
things missing were the instruments of torture, the unknown devices and the man in the 
mask. Ginger wrapped her hands around her arms to try to chase away the goose bumps. The 
fears. And the thrill that the room had produced.

<<< IMAGE 02 >>>





CHAPTER THREE


“Ginger, is something wrong?” Clay asked as he observed her obvious discomfort? Unease? 
Uncertainty?

Ginger had no way to explain what she was feeling, or why she was feeling it. But there 
was something… wrong. There was something different.

Trying to think back and remember her fantasy of that afternoon, she quickly discarded 
the fact that Clay’s new house was not in the correct part of town. After all, it was just a 
fantasy. But the room… is was almost identical to the one she envisioned. Except…

“It’s the wrong size.”

“The wrong size? What’s the wrong size?”

“The room. It’s too small. That wall,” pointing at the one farthest away from them, “is too 
close. It should be back another ten or twelve feet.”

Clay looked at the wall she was pointing to with considerable puzzlement. Why in the 
world would she ever make such a statement? Ginger had never, at least to his knowledge, 
been in the Redington house before. Why would she question the dimensions? And so 
forcefully and knowingly, at that.

“The wall is too close? Ginger, what are you talking about? Why do you say the wall is in 
the wrong place? You’ve never even been here before. Or have you?”

“I…”

How to explain it, now there was a good question. Oh, I just happened to place my most 
recent fantasy, one in which I am abducted, whipped, placed in bondage, fucked and loved, in 
this very room, Clay. Oh, yes, she could just hear his remarks to that statement. He’d know for 
sure that she was bonkers. Out of her mind. Over the deep end. And a sex crazed 
nymphomaniac too boot.

Oh, yes, totally off the wall, to be sure.

“Ginger?” He asked again as he pulled her back into his embrace. He could literally feel her
trembling. What the hell was going on? “Have you been here before?”

There was no way to avoid Clay’s question. Perhaps a small explanation would be in order. 
At least enough to waylay his concerns.

“No… ahh, no. I’ve aaahh never been here before. But I ahhh…”

“You what? For Christ’s sake, Ginger, speak to me. Tell me what the hell is wrong, because I
know something is. Very wrong.” Caressing her shoulders, he leaned down and kissed her 
neck as he asked, “What is it? Something about this room is making you… I don’t know, scared
or… excited? What is it?” Turning into his embrace, sliding her arms around his neck, she 
raised her face to his. “It’s really nothing, Clay. It’s just that… well, I guess you can say I 
dreamed about this room. It was a very vivid dream. Very… ahh memorable.”

Turning out of his embrace to again look at the incorrect placement of the wall, she 
added, “And in my ahh dream that wall was farther back.”

Both sets of eyes stared at the wall in question and the longer Clay stared the more he 
began to believe Ginger. Not necessarily about her dream, but about the wall been different 
than the other three. It didn’t so much as look newer as different. As if the stone work was 
done by someone else. Where had that thought come from? he wondered.

Then it hit him like a baseball bat.

Rachel’s diary.

One of the last entries was about Jethro Redington walling off part of the basement room 
that he had used extensively with his victims over the years. Walling off and secreting much of 
the vast equipment he had assembled over the years for his desires.

Walling it off just one week before his trail began. Walling off much of the evidence 
needed to hang him. Ginger had mentioned it in her diary. But she had not mentioned it at his
trial!

Could Jethro’s equipment be behind that wall?

And how in the hell had Ginger know of it if it was?

Just how many damned similarities were there between him and Ginger, and Jethro and 
Rachel?

“Ginger, ahh tell me about this dream of yours.”

“Really, Clay, what difference does it make anyway? It was just a dream.” Well, almost like a
dream, she told herself.

“I… I’m not real sure it was just a dream, Ginger.”

“What? Why not?”

Now it was Clay’s turn to decide on just how much to be said. But he had already made 
some decisions and now did seem like a likely time to address at least some of them.

“Have you ever heard of Jethro Redington?”

“Redington?… I ahh, oh, wait. Wasn’t he the man hung about a hundred years ago in 
town?”

“Yes he was. Do you recall anything else about him or his trial?”

“Wasn’t there something about women? Women he killed?”

“Yes. He was convicted of killing several. Do you recall the primary witness?”

“Witness? No, why should I? Who was it? And what connection does it have with this… ahh
room?”

“I… I’ve been doing quite a bit of research on the Redington trial and those involved since I
decided to buy his house.”

“His house? What about the Harrison’s? You mean this was a murder’s house? And you 
bought it?”

“Yes, this was Jethro Redington’s house. The Harrison’s didn’t buy it until around the 
1950’s. Actually the first time I looked at this place, I didn’t even like it. But there was… 
something about it that… well, drew me back. Several times in fact, until I finally decided to 
buy it. So I started looking into the past owners.”

“It took me some time before I even realized that it had been the house of Redington. For 
some reason that fact was buried deep, as if someone didn’t want it known. Anyway, once I 
found out who the original owner was, I began looking into his life and those around him.”

Pausing to look at Ginger and see how she was accepting his story, Clay continued when 
she only showed avid interest.

“Actually, I’ve compiled quite a record of the Redington’s, the trial and this house. The 
most informative part, by far, was Rachel Redington’s diary.”

“Her diary? It’s still around after all this time?”

“Well, not exactly around. It was buried in the State Archives. But I did manage to get a 
photocopy of it in a roundabout way.”

“You did?” Ginger asked with obvious enthusiasm.

“Yes, I did. It was ahh very unusual, to say the least. But there is much more, Ginger.”

“What? This is getting interesting, Clay. Very interesting.”

“I went to several libraries and dug into their records. Records of the trial. Of the 
Redington’s. Their house. And their families. And I found some, let us say, startling facts.”

“What kind of facts?”

“Perhaps it would be better if I got my copies and showed you what I have accumulated so
far. Okay?”

“Ahh sure, Clay. Whatever you think best. Okay if I remain here while you get it?”

“Sure. No problem. It’s all out in my car. I’ll be right back.”

Thus saying Clay turned and walked up the stone steps leaving Ginger alone in the room 
she had “visited” just that afternoon.

Slowly walking around the room, Ginger investigated every inch. Yes, no doubt about it. It 
was the same room. Only it had been altered. The smaller space was not the only change 
though. Several section of exposed plumbing pipes were around the room and they had not 
been in her fantasy. But then some modernizations had to have been made over the years.

But she did wonder why the pipes had not been hidden behind walls. Was that one of the 
things that had drawn Clay to the house? She was sure something like that would be vastly 
appealing to a master plumber, and Clay was sure that. His skills had been recognized for 
years. And he made a damned good living at it, too.

The heavy, overhead, wooden beams were still in evidence. But they were missing the 
many hooks and rings that had been present in her fantasy. But they could have easily been 
removed over the years and various owners. Especially if the owners had been aware of the 
Redington’s. But close inspection showed where they had likely been.

But the obvious, at least in her opinion, lacking things were the instruments of torture, 
bondage and pain that had abundantly filled her most recent fantasy so well. Turning to look 
in a certain direction, she could almost envision the “triangle” of her fantasy standing near the 
wall as she remembered the spiked dildo driving into her oh so willing flesh as she fucked it as
a man whipped her slavish tits until she had come.

The man. The man was Clay!

How had she not recognized that fact before? Clay was the silent man of her fantasy. Clay 
was the man behind the leather mask. Clay was the one she pictured herself being harmed by.
Being fucked by. Being forced by him to fuck a spiked dildo.

Clay was the one she wanted to hurt, bind, force and fuck her. Why had she never 
understood that before?

And why did she now?

Just what the hell did this house have to do with her and Clay? What had Clay said, there 
were many startling facts?

“Here it is,” came from Clay as he descended the stairs, pulling Ginger out of her 
bewildering thoughts.

Ginger turned as he approached and saw that he had brought more than just some 
photocopies. He had also brought a blanket and a small cooler.

“I thought it would be more comfortable if we had a place to sit. And a cold drink never 
hurt matters either. Come on, let’s go over there and I’ll show what I’ve collected so far. I’m 
sure you will be as amazed as I was.”

“Amazed? What are you talking about, Clay?”

“You’ll see shorty,” was all he offered as he led her over to his chosen spot almost in one of
the corners.

Setting the cooler aside, Clay opened the blanket and spread it on the floor. He assisted 
Ginger in sitting on it, opened the cooler and took out a can for both of them before reaching
for the bulging folder he had also brought.

“These are copies of all I’ve been able to find out about Jethro Redington, his wife, Rachel 
Coughlin Redington and his house. There are also copies of newspaper articles about his trial, 
along with pictures of both of them. That’s what I’d like to show you first. Their pictures.”

With puzzlement showing on her face Ginger reached for the papers Clay held out to her.

Her first glance made her gasp!

They were pictures of her and Clay! Or at least they looked like them. But the clothes were 
all wrong. Clay did not have a small mustache and Ginger had never worn her hair in that 
style. Nor had she ever owned the dress either. But other than those pertinent facts, it was like
looking at faded pictures of her and Clay.

“Scary, isn’t it, Ginger?”

“Scary? I’d say more like damned frightening. Are you sure these are pictures of Jethro and
Rachel Redington and not some… elaborate trick?”

“No. These are pictures of actual newspaper articles. I did enlarge them to see them better,
but other than that, they are authentic. You agree that they look like you and me?”

“I’d ahh be damned hard pressed to deny it.”

“That’s not all. I also have the Redington’s family trees. Jethro’s and Rachel’s. Here.”

Again Ginger looked at the copies that Clay gave her. At first she didn’t see the significant 
of them. Until she reached the bottom of one and saw her name. Clay was at the bottom of 
the other.

“We’re related to the Redington’s?”

“Direct descendants. However, yours is a more honored line. As you can see, my family 
came from Jethro’s bastard son. His only known relative, except for Rachel.”

“But this is…”

“Preposterous? Unbelievable? Scary as hell? Oh, yes, it is all of those things. And more. 
Wait until you read Rachel’s diary. Here,” holding it out to her, “pick any page at random and 
read it.” Ginger wasn’t all that sure that she wanted to do that. But she did take it. Using both 
hands she separated the 8X11 papers about midway through and brought her eyes to the 
opened page. She began to read. Clay could see her eyes widen in disbelief.

“No. Read it out loud, Ginger. I want to know which passage you are on.”

Swallowing the sudden lump in her throat and brushing a stray lock of hair out of her 
eyes, she took a deep breath before complying with Clay’s request.

.. felt like my left breast was being severed in half by the sharp metal teeth that were 
embedded in it as Harriet began tightening the other clamp to my right one as I laid 
trembling on the floor at Jethro’s feet. But he knew I would never protest anything he wanted 
to do to me.”

“No, the only time I ever protested was when he gave the other women his attention. He 
knew that I loved the pain he gave me. And the others. But I was so jealous of them when he 
treated them like I wanted to be treated. But I had no qualms about them hurting me for his 
pleasures as Harriet was doing.”

“I hardly even noticed that my hands and feet were almost totally numb. Those were 
insignificant facts. My entire attention was focused on what Harriet was doing to my body at 
Jethro’s instructions. And she was very, very good at following instructions. Almost as good as 
I was. But I really didn’t credit that as I squirmed on the stone floor as she tightened the sharp 
clamp into my right breast just as she had to my left.”

“Turn after turn of the screw on the side of the clamp drove it deeper and deeper into my 
flesh until the two opposing sides met inside my breasts giving me a glorious, agonizing, 
penetrating pain that flowed through me until I came.”

“Four sharp metal spikes were in both breasts and all I could do was climax as Jethro stood
over us. As Harriet’s leather covered hands and arms moved the piercing clamps all over my 
chest, creating more bliss than is describable. Both breasts were compressed to within a 
fraction of their normal width as the metal spikes grated against the opposing bar with each 
gentle and ungentle move Harriet made.”

“I was almost past all reason when I saw Jethro kneel beside me and spread my legs apart 
as much as my tied ankles would allow. I knew he was finally going to fuck me and oh did I 
ever want him to. The pain in my breasts was no longer even a consideration in my mind. All I 
could think of, all I could do, was open my legs even wider as he slipped between them.”

“When his magnificent manhood entered my pleading body he and Harriet each took 
possession of one of the clamps in my breasts. It was fantastic! It was magnificent! It was all I 
could ever hope for, as Jethro moved the clamp in my right breast with each stroke of his 
manly power. Harriet moved the left one and I was totally incoherent. All I could do was 
climax. Again and again.”

Ginger let the papers fall from her hands as she reached the obvious conclusion of that 
episode. But she could not stop her hands from shaking. To have metal spikes driven through 
her breasts! To have them manipulated as she was being fucked! And as another woman 
looked on and harmed her even more!

Oh, no. She couldn’t let herself submit to that fantasy. What the hell would Clay think?

With that question in mind, she turned toward him. The first thing she saw was his 
expression. Searching? Questioning? She wasn’t sure and lowered her eyes from his.

And encountered his swollen cock. So swollen it looked in danger of splitting his jeans.

He wasn’t searching or questioning. He was horny as hell. The same as she was! Well, 
maybe he was searching and questioning-her response to reading those pages in Rachel’s 
diary.

“Ginger?” came his quiet voice out of her imagination.

“What?” She almost jumped in response. No way in hell could she raise her eyes to his.

“Look at me Ginger.” When she still refused, he used his finger to raise her head. “Open 
your eyes, damn it! Look at me!”

It seemed that she was no more able to refuse his orders than Rachel had been Jethro’s. 
She raised her head and opened her eyes to stare into Clay’s.

She knew it was all there for him to see.

Her arousal.

Her desires.

Her warped dreams.

Her no longer hidden fantasies.

There was no way to hide the evidence of her hardened nipples pressing into her top. And 
even she could smell her womanly discharge, so she knew that Clay could too. Oh, yes, it was 
all there for him to see.

The question was-what would his reaction to her reactions be?

Would he pull away in discuss? Shame? Revolution?

But she saw none of that.

What she saw she couldn’t quite credit.

It looked like… approval. Matching arousal. And complete understanding.

“Yes. Rachel’s diary effected me the exact same way, Ginger.” Seeing her slowly relax, he 
continued. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve pictured myself as Jethro. Or you as Rachel, or 
one of his other victims. It’s almost like it is our destiny. To recreate their lives. But with a 
change. This time it would end happily ever after’. We won’t make the same mistakes Jethro 
made.”

“Mistakes?”

“His one and only mistake was to fuck the other women in front of the jealous Rachel. It 
was the one thing she could not abide. She wasn’t pleased if harmed others, but she accepted 
it if he would then fuck her instead of them. As you read, she even liked the other women 
harming her. But it was still Jethro who she had to please. And I think you are the same, 
Ginger.”

“The same? How?”

“Many a time we have talked about our previous lovers. And you seem to enjoy the 
stories. But I have the distinct impression that if I ever tried to fuck anyone else again, you’d 
try to cut off my balls.. Much like Rachel. But in her case she turned him into the authorities 
when her jealousy became uncontrollable for her. Am I correct? Are you the possessive type?”

“I… yes. And if you ever fuck anyone else you’ll see just how possessive I can be. But 
Clay…”

“What?”

“You aren’t ahh…?”

“Aren’t what? Revolted by your response to what you read? Disgusted? Think you’re a 
weird, twisted individual who needs to be put away for the good of society?”

“Well… yes. Are you?”

“If I thought that, Ginger, I’d have to be committed to the same insane asylum as you. You 
see my reactions, the same as I see yours. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with either 
one of us. As they say, to each their own’ and our own is…” Unable to continue, he reached for
Rachel’s diary and held it up. “This. Isn’t it?”

Ginger nodded her head in confirmation. “But what does that make us, Clay?”

“It makes us the perfect couple.” Bending down and giving her a powerful kiss as his arms 
wrapped around her chest, Clay felt her melt into him and knew that soon his dreams would 
start becoming reality with the woman he loved.

Sliding his hand up her chest, he took possession of her heaving breast. At first he 
caressed it tenderly. Then with more strength. And with yet some mote until Ginger was 
pressing it into his hand, silently asking for more. He gladly gave it to her.

Closing his fingers around her full, compressing mound, he began to make a fist with her 
trapped in between. And Ginger? She pressed into his hand even more. Clay squeezed more 
and more until he was sure that he was leaving marks on her compressed flesh. He also felt 
like his zipper was leaving marks on his cock, it was so swollen.

But he wanted more.

Pulling away from Ginger’s tight embrace he eased her away from him. At first he could 
see her mystification, but that quickly disappeared as he reached for her top and pulled it over
her head.

He was right. There were faint marks on her breast. But he wanted more and suddenly 
knew that Ginger would give it to him.

He reached out and pulled off her shoes as he saw her rising arousal. The next logical 
target was the snap and zipper of her cutoffs. Soon, they, too, were lying on the blanket as he 
helped her to stand. She willingly followed him across the room to the exposed plumbing 
pipes.

“Here is where I want the first time to occur.”

Ginger didn’t seem to need that sentence explained as she silently held her hands out to 
him.

He took her offered hands and placed them behind her back. One on each side of a pipe 
and began to use his leather belt to bind her to it. Sliding the belt through the buckle, he 
pulled it tight as her wrists pressed into the cool piping. Several loops around wrists and pipe 
and Ginger was not going to go anywhere.

“I’ll be right back, love. Just stand there and dream your dreams. See if you can guess my 
intent.”

With that, he again disappeared up the stone steps leaving Ginger alone in the room.

Well, not quite alone. She was wearing’ a leather belt in the most arousing fashion. 
Lowering her eyes she gazed at her breasts. Oh, yes, no doubt about them. They would soon 
be thoroughly entertained but the question was how. Having read the excerpt she had, she 
was almost certain that soon they would become quite compressed.

She smiled at the thought as the first drop of female goo began to dribble out of her 
excited snatch as she heard Clay’s steps returning. Fixing her eyes on the bottom of the stairs 
she anxiously awaited his return. And what he had gone to retrieve.

A fleet thought of fear crossed her mind, but quickly vanished. He had brought his toolbox
and she was sure it held many delightful wonders for her to enjoy.

With a casual smile that belied his true concerns Clay set the toolbox on the floor about 
three feet in front of Ginger and opened the lid. He didn’t bother to look as he reached in. He 
knew exactly where it was. He kept his eyes glued to Ginger as he slowly raised the huge 
monkey wrench up for her to see.

Her eyes suddenly widened, causing him a punishing breath, before she smiled. As he 
slowly stood up with the wrench in his hand, Ginger slowly eased her feet across the floor 
spreading her legs. Opening herself to him as he gave her breast the first touch of cool metal 
against it.

They both shivered with that touch. Both watched as he slowly opened the wrench, twist 
by twist of the adjusting screw. Wider and wider they opened until both of them knew her 
breast would easily fit between opposing sides.

“It isn’t a spiked clamp, but the theory is the same, Ginger. You set the limits. You will 
always set the limits.”

Four eyes watched as the side screwing device slowly made the wrench close around her 
bobbing breast. One inch. Two. Three inches and her skin began to slowly pucker around the 
metal slowly sinking into her blood filled mound.

When her skin started to fold over the top Ginger gave her first sound. A moan of ecstasy. 
Her legs began to quiver beneath her as Clay ever so slowly continued to turn the screw.

Ginger felt the pain sink into her breast. And welcomed it. Revelled in it. Had dreamed 
about it for years without knowing why.

Now she did.

It was monumental, extravagant, preposterous, bizarre, unearthly and totally consuming. 
But there was one element missing from it all. A very vital ingredient that she had to have to 
make it complete.

“Mmmmakkke meee screammm. Dooo it untilll I can’t stopppp frommm 
screammminnngggggg.”

Clay was more than willing to comply. He knew that it was a test of some sort. For both of 
them. A test of trust. A test of love. A test of commitment.

He turned the screw.

Her tit got smaller and smaller near her chest wall and bigger and bigger at the end. And 
still she didn’t scream. She took deep breaths. Her entire body quivered in pain. But she didn’t
scream.

He turned the screw another revolution.

And another.

Her boob was turning blue. Her nipples, yes both of them, stood straight out and rock 
hard. Tears spilled out of her eyes. But still she didn’t scream.

He almost disintegrated her breast as the two sides of the wrench came less than two 
inches apart. Her skin was totally wrinkled around both sides. Her nipple looked ready to pop 
right off the end. He turned it one more partial rotation and Ginger’s screams echoed, echoed 
and echoed around the stones surrounding them and came back at them again and again as 
in one move Clay jerked his zipper down, freed his cock and jammed it up her sucking track to
be totally swallowed by her grasping internal muscles.

A second later they were both coming as never before. It was all consuming, frightening, 
overwhelming and debilitating in its intensity. That was all. Just the one initial stroke and they 
were out of control.

<<< IMAGE 03 >>>





CHAPTER FOUR


“Are you all right, Ginger?,” the heavily breathing Clay asked as he finally took a step back and
pulled his dripping cock out of her leaking snatch.

One final drop slowly made its way to the very tip of his cock and, with a splat, landed on 
the stone floor between them as Ginger finally opened her eyes, raised her head and looked 
at the man who had just hurt her so badly that she had actually screamed in pain. He had also 
just fucked her to an overwhelming climax that was still lingering in her ravished body.

Her eyes quickly confirmed what they thought they would.

Clay was anything but disappointed in her reactions to having her tit compress so much 
that it looked like a flattened pancake as it still quivered on her chest, the wrench still quite 
firmly attached to it pulling it toward the floor.

She really couldn’t help it.

She smiled at his obvious concern. In this case, totally unwarranted, in her opinion. But 
then, she was sure that they would have more than ample time to adjust to their new 
relationship with each other.

That thought brought her eyes down. No doubt about it, she sure as hell had one damned
deformed tit at the moment. The weight of the wrench still attached to her breast was making 
itself know. That and the fact that her tit was compressed almost to nothing between its jaws 
that were pressing on top and bottom of her tit. Oh, yes. Quite compressed. And quite painful.
Still.

“You know it is going to hurt like hell when I take that off you, don’t you, Ginger?”

“I… I ahh can imagine. But,” and again raising her eyes to his, she added, “up to now it has 
all been imagination, Clay. And reality is much ahh more rewarding? shall I say than 
imagination or any ahh fantasy.”

Clay and Ginger were slowly beginning to understand each other. In a totally different way
than ever before. It was quite apparent that they shared more than a physical resemblance to 
the long dead Redingtons. Oh, yes. Much more, indeed. Obviously they also shared the 
ancestors personal quirks.

Lowering his eyes to her still bound breast Clay knew that it was long past time to remove 
the wrench from it. It had more than turned blue. It was verging on black with the lack of 
blood flowing to her full appendage. With trembling hands leading the way, Clay again 
stepped toward her and reached for the wrench and began to slowly release its grip on her 
pulled, distended and colorful mound.

But even doing it slow, allowing the blood to gradually return, Ginger was unable to 
refrain from several moans and one good scream as he finally removed it from her.

Four eyes were eager to inspect the damage the hefty wrench had left in its wake. Neither 
set of eyes had any trouble seeing that each and every cross-grooved gripping line of the face
of the wrench had left its mark on her pale skin. The entire area of contact was a series of X 
marks and deep red-purple line cut into her flesh where the edges of the wrench had dug into
her flesh so much it had overlapped.

Letting the wrench drop onto his nearby toolbox, Clay brought tender hands to the 
bruised area as Ginger managed to withhold her moans of combined pain and building 
arousal. Clay’s hands felt surprisingly warm to her cool skin as gentle fingertips followed each 
and ever ridge, line and mark that covered her now marred skin.

But neither was anywhere close to being sorry about what had occurred between them so 
recently, and allowed their new-found fascination of the results fascinate them. Clay could 
actually feel her breast still trembling and was sure that ample pain still remained, but if 
anything, Ginger pressed even more of her damaged skin into his hold.

In a voice that was almost a whisper, Clay asked, “When was the first time you dreamed of 
being harmed, Ginger?”

Phrased so softly and with so much obvious love reflected in his voice, Ginger told the 
truth as she keep her eyes fastened on his hands’ movements. “Seemingly forever.”

“Tell me about it, Ginger. Tell me what your dreams and fantasies are in connection with 
being harmed by me.”

With no lingering doubts any more, Ginger told him everything. Her youthful dreams. Her 
personal gratifications as they slowly changed to incorporate sex and pain combined. And of 
her most recent fantasy in which she had envisioned this very room.

And Clay.

It took some time to tell. Clay was silent throughout the entire telling as his hands 
continued to caress and occasionally harm her still very tender mound of quivering flesh. 
When she came to the part where her phantom lover had whipped her breasts while she was 
“forced” to fuck the spiked dildo, Clay lowered his mouth to her unharmed breast and took it 
in his mouth to lave it with tender tongue and licking lips as his hands continued to pay 
homage to her other one.

When finally she was finished neither thought it unusual at all that Clay pressed her body 
back into the supporting pipes, raised her legs to wrap around his hips and they came to 
another shattering climax as he bent his head to worship her pleading breasts as his strong 
arms supported most of her weight as she bent backwards over the pipes.

*

Cuddled comfortably in each others arms on the blanket where it had been left, they were 
both quite content for silence to reign for some time before they began to talk in earnest 
about what had happened and what was sure to occur in the near and distant future.

“May I borrow Rachel’s diary and read it in its entirety?”

“Of course you can. Even if you hadn’t asked, I would have requested that you did. Not 
only for your own enjoyment, and I’m very sure that you will enjoy it, but because you might 
find something in it that I have missed. Which brings to mind your comment about the size of 
this room. I know you told me about your most recent fantasy that you say was set here, but 
what makes you so sure that the room is smaller?”

“Because I can remember every detail of the fantasy, and the room was bigger than it is 
now. That wall,” again pointing to the one in question as she had before, “was a good ten or 
twelve feet father away than it is now. Why? What’s so important? There could have been a 
very logical reason why someone over the years closed off part of the room with that wall.”

“Of course you wouldn’t know. But in Rachel’s diary she mentions that just before Jethro 
was apprehended by the authorities and brought to trial for his crimes against the numerous 
women he captured or acquired, he began to collect his vast collection of devices and hide 
them. She mentioned walling off a room. I didn’t pay particular attention to it at the time, after
all, I was highly stimulated by the remainder of her diary. But with your comment that the 
room was smaller, I wonder if Jethro’s collection is behind that wall.”

“You think it might be?”

“There’s more than an even chance in my opinion. There are just too many similarities 
between Jethro, Rachel, you and me for there not to be a connection with your so-called 
fantasy.”

“This is really getting, I don’t know, scary. These pictures,” picking them up and looking at 
them, “are almost… I don’t know. Proof, I guess that there is much more than meets the eye. 
It’s almost as if we were destined to relive Jethro and Rachel’s lives for them.”

“I’ve felt the same way for some time. Why don’t you take all this home with you,” pointing
to his assembled records of the Redingtons that he had accumulated over the weeks, “and go 
over it. And if you are still convinced that it was this room, we’ll tear down that wall and see 
what’s behind it.”

“You won’t do it without me here, will you?”

“No. You have as much right as I do to see if you are correct. Come on, let’s get you home 
before your parents begin to worry.”

*

By the time Ginger reached her house her parents were long in bed, so she had no trouble
at all carrying the photocopies that Clay had given her to read about the Redingtons. Two 
minutes after entering the front door she was snug in her room, curled up on her bed and 
thumbing through the material Clay had gathered.

Knowing the Rachel’s diary would be the most stimulating material, she began by reading 
about the history of the Redingtons that had been covered in the newspapers of their time. 
Reports of the trial had obviously been widely covered by the press of their times, after all it 
wasn’t an everyday occurrence for a wife to press charges against and testify against her 
husband in any type of trial.

Rachel Coughlin Redington had been the sole person responsible for all investigating 
involved in his arrest and later conviction. The sheriff had freely talked to the converging press
and told them that she had volunteered all information that had led up to his arrest. When he 
was finally convinced that she wasn’t a lunatic, he had entered her home and caught Jethro 
Redington in the act of inflicting pain on a women who had been explained as a house guest 
to the town’s people.

His testimony about that incident was most edifying at the trial, much of his testimony 
being quoted verbatim, or as much as was permissible at the time the trail occurred. The 
woman, a one Jessica Filmont of Virginia, had been totally naked at the time the sheriff had 
arrived. Her arms had been shackled over her head and Jethro Redington was whipping her 
body. At the time of his arrival, he was whipping her breasts but the sheriff quickly ascertained
that she had been whipped on almost her entire body. He testified that only from knees to 
feet and upper chest to head were tinmarked by marks of the whip Mr. Redington had used 
on her.

Jessica Filmont herself had refused to testify at the trial. Even when subpoenaed she 
refused and sentenced to thirty days in jail for her refusal, which she willingly accepted.

Other witnesses had contributed little actual information. One neighbor stating that on 
several occasions he had heard what could have been described as screams coming from the 
Redington house, but he couldn’t be sure. As the trial progressed people began to remember 
the many women who had visited the Redington home, none of which could a trace be found.
It was assumed that they had died at his hand, but no bodies were ever discovered.

After reading the last article, Ginger didn’t think that Jethro Redington would have been 
convicted in today’s society, too much was circumstantial evidence and no bodies were ever 
actually found. He could have simply sent them away after he tired of them and moved far 
away.

Reserving judgment on that question, she finally picked up Rachel’s diary and began to 
read it from front to back. A task that took her well over nine hours. When finished, she no 
longer had any doubts that Jethro had done away with a woman or two, but not all that had 
been under his control.

But ignoring that fact, what interested Ginger the most were Rachel’s stories about his 
treatment of her and the other women who found their way to him in one way or another. 
Not only was he described as physically strong and with a dynamitic personality, but he was 
given “powers” over women of certain persuasions. It was as if he hypnotized them some 
manner.

A manner that did not allow them to dispute, argue or deny his every request. It seemed, 
at least to Ginger reading the account left by Rachel, that women were “compelled” to follow 
his every wish, especially when connected with the infliction of pain either to themselves or to 
others, mainly to Rachel Redington herself as her husband looked on, frequently initiating the 
actions implemented by Jethro.

With dawn almost upon her, Ginger finally set Clay’s material aside and went to sleep.

No one should be surprised that she had a very vivid dream about one of the times written
about by Rachel Coughlin Redington.

*

Sara Appleton was a veritable bitch, in my opinion, but Jethro found her appealing 
enough for a willing victim. He even made me watch, which he knew angered me greatly as I 
wanted to be the victim not Sara, or anyone else. But it made no difference. When he 
requested that we join him, we willingly followed him to the special room in the basement.

He ordered us to disrobe each other knowing that it humiliated me more to do so. But 
disrobe each other we did. He knew that I could refuse him nothing, including things that I 
found distasteful to do. If I put all my prejudices aside about Sara, I have to admit that she is 
an attractive woman.

An inch or so shorter than me, her short blond hair framing her face, she is quite attractive.
And her body is one that any woman would desire. But what scared me more about Sara than 
some of the other women is the fact that she seems as drawn to Jethro as I am and can refuse 
him nothing either. She is the perfect sexual slave that Jethro so desires.

That day, after we had disrobed each other, Jethro surprised me by acting with me before 
Sara. By the simple means of a crook of his finger, I more than eagerly followed him to one of 
the many bondage devices he had constructed over the years.

The two posts were widely spaced and in a matter of seconds I was bound between them 
by bonds at my wrists and ankles. Knowing that my entire body was totally venerable to any 
of Jethro’s desires, I couldn’t help but think that I would be getting the lion’s share of his 
attention. But that hope was quickly vanished as he walked away and began his preparations 
of Sara.

With her assistance they drug a huge block type table almost directly in front of me. The 
thick slab of wood forming the top of the table and the solid legs guaranteed that it was quite
sturdy and would hold up indefinitely. When the table was in place Jethro told Sara to lay on 
top, belly down, which she eagerly did. But the table was not long enough for her entire 
length, so resting her arms on one end to hold herself up, she calmly allowed my husband to 
manacle her ankles to other end.

I had seen that table used on various occasions in the past, both by myself and by others 
and I knew the significance of the hole in the center. A hole that that Jethro inserted the 
cock-shaft through. But Sara did not know the reason for the hole in the center of the table 
top, but she soon did as Jethro reached for the long shaft with the cock shaped end and slid it
through the hole of the table.

It was not a coincidence that the hole for the shaft was in direct line with her female slit. 
We both saw her shiver as the cool metal made is journey between her ass cheeks and vaginal
lips until it went through the hole and Jethro was using the screwing device underneath the 
table to fasten it securely.

That was the ingeniousness of the cock shaft. It could be set at almost any height. Many a 
time I had been standing or kneeling on the table with the end of the cock shaft up my 
seething core and made to fuck it as Jethro whipped my willing body. But that day he had a 
different use for the cock shaft. It was to become a bondage implement instead.

Telling Sara to give him her hands behind her back, I watched with jealous interest as he 
began to tie her wrists with some rope. With the first loops of rope around her wrists he 
pulled her body back into an arch then wrapped more loops of rope around them. The main 
difference in those loops being that the cock shaft was then between the first and second 
loops.

He pulled the ropes, pulling Sara’s hands further and further behind her back until her 
back was quite arched. Her breasts were almost pointing directly at me. But the really 
fascinating part was that the shaft part of the cock shaft was pressing very harshly against her 
female slit. The more Jethro pulled on her arms, the more her body as pulled toward her feet. 
But it could not move toward her feet. Her body pressed into the cock shaft in her female 
core.

I knew how she must be feeling, as I, too, had been similarly bound in the past. And I was 
very envious of her situation. I knew that her arms and shoulders were aching like the very 
devil. That her hands would soon loose all feeling except for driving needles. But it was her 
throbbing clitoris that got the most thrills as the shaft pressed harder and harder into it.

When Jethro finally tied off the end of the rope I knew that Sara was in glorious pain as 
her full, hard capped breasts hung in midair at the end of the table and Jethro walked away 
from us to get the whip and I had to smile because I knew, or at least hoped, that I would be 
receiving much more of the pain he had taught me to enjoy would be coming to me instead 
of Sara.

Her position alone precluded several of his favorite female targets. With the cock shaft 
holding her in bondage as it was, her buttocks and vagina were eliminated from being 
whipped. All he could really whip would be the backs of her legs, feet and breasts. My body, 
instead, was totally opened in all locations except for the bottoms of my feet. And I was in a 
position of being able to squirm at bit, which I knew my husband loved to watch.

I hoped to be doing a lot of squirming in the near future as he came back to us with the 
three stranded whip in his hand. He knew that I had seen his selection and he smiled at me as 
we both knew it was one of my favorite weapons. Each of the three strands of the whip was of 
double thickness. And trapped between each layer of leather were series of leaded beads. 
Each bead was about the size of my thumbnail. Each caused agonizing pain when connecting 
with weak flesh. Each left a dark bruise in its wake.

I was no longer jealous of Sara because I knew that Jethro was doing this for me. His smile 
told me. As did that particular whip and Sara’s positioning. When Jethro became aroused he 
liked immediate satisfaction and by placing Sara and me has he had told me that I was to be 
the one to receive his gift.

After appropriate payment, of course.

Nothing in life came free. I knew that my body would pay the price, as would Sara’s, too. 
But I would be the one to receive the rewards. All in good time, that is.

Standing slightly back, but between us, Jethro slowly brought his whip back with a flick of 
his wrist and studied us both intently. I silently prayed to be first. The first to be whipped with 
the beaded, three stranded whip that he so casually held in his hand.

My prayers were answered as I saw the black blur of leather coming at me, heading from 
the floor up to land directly in my opened female slot of lust and to show my appreciation I 
screamed as loud as I could as I twisted my body within my bounds and closed my eyes. The 
next sound of leather striking flesh I did not feel and opened my eyes to see the dark red lines
form on Sara’s thrust forward breasts and before the next one landed on me I could see 
several bruises left by the lead beads making a dotted track across both of her full mounds.

Back and forth Jethro brought the whip. To me. To Sara, he alternated. But where he struck
me varied. The liquid pain filled my female core, my pleading breasts, stomach, legs, buttocks 
and back, making my entire body sing with the pain I had been taught to love. But Sara’s body
did not get the same care. Every stroke Jethro gave her connected with her thrusted forward 
breasts.

They turned red. Then blue. Then black with vivid red streaks of seeping blood. Her nipples
split, then split some more. Her screams added to our lust, as did mine and my husband’s 
grunts as the whip was in constant motion between our bodies.

But the beaded whip was not all that was in motion. So was Jethro’s growing cock, and I 
watched it intently as it grew with each blow landed to me and to Sara. I twisted. I screamed. 
Sara screamed but couldn’t move. When Jethro landed five consummative blows to my 
opened vagina I knew that he was close to giving me my reward, and I was right.

Dropping the whip between Sara and I he bent forward in front of her and took each 
lacerated nipple into his mouth. By her increased screams I knew that he was doing what he 
so loved to do. He was biting them but I wasn’t jealous because I knew he would come to me 
shortly. And he did.

Turning to me with lust shinning in his magnificent eyes, with his fully engorged manhood 
leading the way, I opened my legs as far as I could to accept him. He took up my invitation 
and slid inside me until I could feel him in my stomach as his hands gripped my whipped 
buttocks and hips and pulled to toward him with each massive thrust of his powerful body.

I was in heaven. My body was climaxing continuously with every inward or outward thrust 
or pull of his body in mine. With each biting nip to my own whipped breasts. With each 
gripping finger digging into my greedy buttocks, I came until he blessed my body with it 
creamy reward.

When Jethro was finished he left us there for two hours, then came back and repeated the 
entire scene again with his willing slaves to pain.

Her dream was so vivid that Ginger woke herself with her digging hands in her dripping 
snatch. On the edge of awake and asleep she brought herself to a magnificent climax that 
woke her entirely. Taking advantage of the circumstances of an aroused body and 
wakefulness, she came three more times before again slipping back into a very restful sleep 
that played variety of scenes from Rachel’s diary until she awoke refreshed and anxious for the
day to begin.

She and Clay were planning to investigate the wall in his basement.

<<< IMAGE 04 >>>





CHAPTER FIVE


Ginger and Clay were each up at almost the crack of dawn anxious for the day to begin. 
Especially after so promising a start as last night. Each, though the other didn’t know it, was 
trying to decided the “proper” way of telling or showing the other what they wanted.

If they had conferred, with total honesty, they would have found that they concurred 
almost exactly as to how they wanted the future between them to be. But they didn’t. It would
take some additional trust on both of their parts for that to happen, but then, time was on 
their side.

Ginger had long known, even if unadmitted, what she wanted her married relationship to 
be like. In no other facet of her life was she submissive, but when it came to sexual 
gratification, she was. She wanted to be submissive before, during and after sexual acts. Her 
many fantasies over the years having proved that point in her mind.

The question was how to manage to tell Clay that without actually stating it, was the crux 
of the problem as she saw it. She was a self-assured person, knowing what she wanted and 
generally she got what she wanted. But in actuality she didn’t want all that much. A husband 
to love her to distraction, to see to her sexual desires and eventually a family.

She had no burning desire to set the financial world on its ears and make vast amounts of 
money. True, she wanted to live comfortably and Clayton Trudo was more than capable of 
providing that. He was a satisfactory lover, with promise of being exactly what she needed and
wanted in that line, if last night was a preview of what was to come.

The question was, was last night a prelude or just an isolated insentient of their future 
sexual relations.

Setting those thoughts aside, Ginger stepped into her morning shower, the first step in 
preparing herself for hopefully a very eventful day.

About twelve blocks away from the Phillips house Clay was having similar thoughts of his 
own.

Clay had noticed over the years that he did have a mild desire to dominate in sexual 
relations with his partners but hadn’t really given that much thought. Until he started delving 
into the Redingtons and their lives, and especially so after gaining a copy of Rachel Coughlin 
Redington’s diary that was crammed full of interesting and enticing scene, one after the other.

Oh, sure, there had been occasions in which he had applied hand to quivering asses, but 
nothing harsh. He had used such times as an additive when the opportunity arose, usually 
when things got hot and heavy and it seemed appropriate. On two occasions the female of 
the night’s activities had actually requested such treatment and he had happily complied and 
found his own arousal increased.

There had even been one night, when he was highly drunk as was his partner, when he 
had requested that she be in bondage before sex. His memory of that night was not all that 
clear, but he did remember enough to know that she had been just as willing to experiment as
he had and he had tied her hands to the bed frame. However, he plainly remembered that he 
had enjoyed that particular fuck exceptionally even if he did not date the same woman again.

But from the moment he stood in the basement room of his new home and had “seen” 
Rachel Coughlin Redington bound in ropes and begging to be hurt, he could think of nothing 
else. That had naturally led him into investigating the Redingtons and their history which led 
to even more startling facts.

Having gained a copy of Rachel’s diary had been a deciding turning point in his life. He 
wasn’t sure if it was a good point or not, but it was a decisive point never the less.

As was last night with Ginger in the very same room it had all started in.

He had been anything but confident when he had handed her the material he had 
accumulated over the weeks and had watched her closely the entire time. Especially when he 
told her to read an excerpt out of the diary.

At first he wasn’t sure if he was seeing what he wanted to see or if Ginger was actually 
reacting as she was to what she was reciting aloud for them. But as she progressed and 
became overtly excited by each word she spoke, he finally began to hope in earnest that he 
wasn’t mistaken.

Then the unbelievable had happened. Ginger had allowed, almost seemingly eagerly, 
herself to be placed in bondage. Granted it was not an elaborate bondage scene, but more 
than adequate for their first time doing such together. After she had randomly read the 
account of Rachel’s breasts being pierced by metal spikes he knew what he wanted to try.

Not actual piercing, that was too extreme for an overture, but he had thought, or prayed 
in actuality, that she might be willing to experiment with something of similar nature. At that 
point in time he had a vision of her breast compressed by one of his many wrenches. When he
had began he had know he would have stopped at any given time if she had objected.

But she had not objected. In fact she had requested that he tighten the wrench so tight 
that it forced her to scream from the pain. At that moment he knew what their destiny was to 
be and he capitulated without the slightest qualm. He could no longer fight his no longer 
hidden desires. Ginger’s total acceptance of the pain he gave her saw to that fact. And both of
their reactions to the pain she had received had totally substantiated it in his mind.

But it did not answer all of his questions on the subject, either. As she had told him of her 
past dreams and fantasies his hope grew proportionally, but still there were unanswered 
questions in his mind.

Just how far did Ginger want to go into the realm of pain?

Did she want to be totally submissive at those times?

Did she want humiliation incorporated, too? If so, how much? To what degree and 
frequency?

He knew that she did not want him to engage in sexual acts with others, but could others 
be used to increase their desires on occasion? How did one incorporate others in the first 
place, anyway?

He had read and reread Rachel’s diary so many times that he had it practically memorized. 
Would Ginger want such things to happen to her? The whippings? The piercings? The 
prolonged bondage? The force he knew he possessed to “conquer” her body totally?

Did she truly want to fulfill he each and every wish concerning his deepest desires that had
been brought to the surface by Rachel’s diary? Because he knew that they were there now, no 
longer hidden beneath a layer of culture denying them.

To those, and other, questions he did not know the answers. What he did know was: 
Ginger would set the limits; he would adhere to them; and he would press her to find her 
limitations.

Stepping into his own morning shower, he was sure that he would find some of his 
answers this day.

The day they had decided to break through the wall Ginger insisted was in the wrong 
location. If she was proven correct, he hoped that what they found behind it was the 
equipment Jethro Redington had accumulated almost a hundred years ago to torment and 
delight his wife and others.

Equipment he would delightfully use with Ginger now and in the future.

*

His professional paneled van with the company name lettered on the side was much fuller 
than usual when he picked up Ginger that morning at her parent’s home and drove her to his 
new home. A home totally lacking any comforts, furniture, appliances, of any other such 
things normally found in a home. But holding much promise to the two excited people 
entering it twenty minutes later.

Using his key, Clay unlocked the front door and instantly made a decision, which he 
quickly decided to act upon. Turning to Ginger who had just stepped through the door, he 
said, “Remove your clothing. From this day forward whenever you are here you will be nude 
and totally accessible to me in any manner I so desire.”

His words had not sounded harsh, nor threatening in any way, but Ginger never the less 
turned suddenly to see if he was angry or mad for any reason. What she saw was a perfectly 
composed man, issuing what he considered a perfectly normal statement. But what his words 
implied were vast. And totally mesmeric, bewitching, captivating and challenging as hell to her
deepest cravings.

When had he tuned into her desire to be essentially submissive in their relationship with 
each other? And dare she give him that power over her by complying?

“Clay?…” came as a whisper out of her constricted throat as she stared at his ostensibly 
determined expression.

“Yes?” He knew what she was silently asking, but refrained from expressing it, knowing 
somehow that she couldn’t. Not yet. But that this was how she genuinely wanted him to be 
with her from now on.

“I… you’re ahh sure that that is ahh what you want from me?”

“I am, if you are, Ginger. There are two things I want you to always remember: I love you 
and you will always set the limits of what happens to you. If there is something you don’t 
want, state so and it will cease. But if you do not object, silence can be your answer. Do you 
understand, Ginger?” Ginger understood completely and was vastly relieved by his words. She 
had accepted her desires but found them vastly uncomfortable to express to others including 
Clay. Clay had just offered her the easiest way in the world to achieve them. She knew that she
would have no trouble stating what she did not want and until she had the nerve to express 
herself in the ones she did want she could just silently accept what Clay offered her without 
the added strain of expressing them out loud.

With suddenly shaking fingers and hands, Ginger removed her clothing as her and Clay 
stood inside the foyer of their new home. With each piece that drifted to the floor she felt her 
inhibitions slipping too. When totally nude she turned to face him, and said, “Will that be all 
for now, Clay?” as she proudly stood before him as he leisurely inspected her now aroused 
body.

Clay smiled. He really couldn’t help it. A very major step had just been taken and several 
unanswered questions had been answered by the justifiably proud Ginger standing in front of 
him. He had taken the correct approach with her. Now was time for step two.

“No. As a matter-of-fact that is not all.”

Ginger didn’t respond verbally to his words, but her body definitely did react. Her nipples 
got even harder and more prominent on her breasts. Her breasts themselves seemed to 
actually grow as he watched. And a glorious red suffused her entire body.

He knew she was still too shy to speak, but that was far from concerning him. She was 
reacting. And most positively, in his opinion as he slowly reached into his back pocket and 
pulled out a decent length of rope and held it in front of him.

“Give me your hands, Ginger, and I will tie them.”

Another statement with vast connotations. Swallowing a sudden lump in her throat, 
Ginger raised both cool and trembling hands toward the rope that Clay held. Neither had any 
doubts as to what he was going to do with the rope he held, or with her hands.

Both of them were silent as he efficiently bound her wrists in the rope, leaving several feet 
unused.

For the moment.

Taking the other end of the rope in his hand, Clay turned and led the very nervous, and 
excited, Ginger down to the basement room with it.

He was in no hurry and quite casually made his way to the basement room. A thoroughly 
aroused Ginger in his wake. He now knew enough about bondage and its disciples to know 
that anticipation was half of their arousal and he used that knowledge as he led her to the 
center of the room.

Still, quite casually, he raised his hands and tied the end of the rope to a small hook in one
of the beams that was in the center of the room, then stood back to exam his partner. His look
quickly confirmed that Ginger was highly stimulated by his actions. He didn’t miss his own 
arousal either, but that could easily wait for later. Perhaps much later.

“Spread your legs, Ginger. I want to be able to see your beautiful pussy lips hanging in the 
air.”

She instantly, and seemingly without conscious thought, followed his instructions. She 
couldn’t seem to stop herself from jumping slightly as he used his hands to pull her pussy lips 
apart, then stood straight again.

“I want to be able to see your juices collecting on them as the day progresses. Don’t move.
I’ll be back shortly.” With that he turned and walked up the stairs.

Ginger closed her eyes and tried to gather her raging thoughts. But it was almost a useless
effort: She was too busy reacting physically.

How had he known?

She was on the verge of climaxing and for all practical purposes Clay had hardly even 
touched her. Her tits felt bloated. Her nipples were hard and throbbing as if they had a life all 
their own. And her cunt was rapidly becoming a swamp of lustful desires. Her legs were 
trembling and her heart was racing as if she had just finished engaging in a romping act of 
fulfilling sex. Unmistakably there was much more than pain that set her off. In her previous 
fantasies she had thought that it was the pain that she desired that set her into orbit. That fact
was now in question, but one that she was in no hurry to answer as she allowed herself to 
frolic in the here and now.

Over the next half hour or forty-five minutes Clay made numerous trips to the basement 
room. He brought down load after load of tools, including a pickax, shovels, buckets, ropes, 
broom and dustpan and two of his workboxes. Ginger silently watched each and every move 
he made, but remained silent the entire time except when he came into contact with her 
straining body.

After each trip down to the basement, he set whatever he had brought down, arranging 
them to his satisfaction. Those details out of the way, he would come to her. The first time he 
bend over and sucked her still bruised breast and nipple until Ginger thought she would 
come. The second time he sucked the other one.

His third trip had him inspecting her drooling cunt with fingers and mouth. That time she 
quickly came, flooding his mouth with her bountiful discharge, which he gratefully licked, then
again left her alone. His next trip downstairs filled the chamber with the sound of his hand 
spanking her ass. An ass that she held arched back as instructed until it was toasty warm and 
again he left.

His fifth and final trip concluded, Clay stood in front of Ginger and slowly lowered his 
zipper and freed his cock. “Want this, Ginger?”

What a stupid question, she thought but didn’t express. Instead she answered, “Yess, you 
know I do.”

“Then you shall have if. After you pay the appropriate price.”

He saw her puzzled look and somehow knowing that she wasn’t yet willing to voice her 
question, he told her the price he had set.

“Lower yourself until you are hanging from your hands, then open your legs for me and I 
will come to you and fuck you like I’ve never fucked you before.”

Ginger knew that again he was allowing her to set her limits. She could have just lowered 
herself, resting her feet on the stone floor. But she wanted to tell him what she really wanted. 
Bending her legs until her arms took her full weight, Ginger pulled her legs up and hung from 
her bound wrists as she kept her legs as opened as she could.

Clay instantly understood her silent message and took his time in approaching her. But he 
did have his own needs to consider, so he stepped forward, grabbed a hanging hip in each 
hand and pulled her body to him. A second later he drove all of his fully engorged cock up 
her leaking cunt to their mutual enjoyment.

When finished and after giving her a chance to catch her breath, he said as he released her
wrists, “Pick up the pickax and open the wall. I want to see your tits shake with each and every 
blow.”

Ginger had assumed that Clay would break down the wall. He was much more physically 
stronger than she was, after all. But she soon realized his intent. If she wished to play the role 
of a slave, he would treat her as such, until she objected.

At the moment she was far from objecting. In fact, she got a perverse pleasure out of 
displaying her body to Clay as he indeed watched her breasts shake with each blow she struck
against the wall. But Jethro, or whoever built the wall, had done a damned good job. After 
twenty minutes Ginger was literally sweating, covered with mortar and stone chips and slowly 
losing any desires she had to crumble down walls.

“Can I ahh take a break yet?”

“No. Keep chipping away. Work on that big stone, I think it will give soon.”

They both knew what was happening but to be truthful Clay was having more fun than 
Ginger as she again attacked the ungiving wall. Five minutes later one of the big stones finally 
fell to the floor and the wall was finally breached.

Clay quickly moved out of his seemingly casual stance, grabbed a flashlight and stood 
beside Ginger as the two of them watched the bright beam of light expose what was on the 
other side of the wall.

“Holeeeyy shit!” came from Clay’s in astonishment as the light sweep over the items 
behind the wall.

“It’s there! It’s all there and more,” came from the suddenly refreshed Ginger as she, too, 
saw the contents of the hidden room.

Clay was too anxious for Ginger’s meager attempts at knocking down the wall, but he also 
had no problem remembering her desires. Again fastening her by the rope to the hook in the 
center of the room, he took up the pickax and quickly demolished the reminder of the wall as 
Ginger stood in her bondage and eagerly watched, as piece by piece the equipment that 
Jethro Redington had collected over the years was revealed to their bemused eyes.

With the last section lying on the floor, Clay again released Ginger from her spot in the no 
longer center of the room and the two of them stepped over the rubble into a world hard to 
describe unless seen.

Every device that Rachel had written about in her diary was there. And then some. Most of 
the erotic equipment was made of metal and was in extremely good shape considering the 
passage of time since it was last used. The things made of leather hadn’t survived as well, but 
well enough to see their basic design and intended use. Except for a few things that they had 
no idea of their intent but both were more than interested in them and knew that soon they 
would discover their uses.

All in all there was quite a bit salvageable from Jethro’s collection that was covered under 
layers of dust and cobwebs. All of which was highly stimulating to the two viewers whose eyes
flashed from piece to piece in the closed off room.

“Where do we begin?” Ginger asked as she stood with Clay’s arm around her bare 
shoulders.

“With good old fashioned elbow grease. Begin piling the bigger stone over there in the 
corner and shoveling up the dust and smaller debris while I have a look around this stuff.”

Again ordered to assume the role of the slave, Ginger complied with, his demands and 
began to laboriously carry as many of the stones as she could to the designated corner as 
Clay made a more thorough inspection of the hidden treasure.

Hours later, covered with her own layers of dust and sticky sweat, Ginger requested a 
break which Clay finally granted. They went over to the same area of the night before and 
again sat on the blanket as they ate the picnic lunch Ginger had packed. They eyes hardly 
leaving the articles Clay had began arranging around the enlarged room.

“That’s what was in my fantasy,” Ginger said as she pointed to the oddly shaped triangle 
with the toothed top edges. “The metal, spiked dildo is missing, but you can easily see where 
it attached between the two top edges.”

“Yes, you can. I think I found it in one of those cabinets, or one that could be used for that 
purpose anyway. Rachel’s diary sure didn’t cover all of his equipment, did it?”

“Not by half,” she concurred as her eyes continued to wander. Each piece sending shivers 
down her spine and making her cunt leak with obvious arousal and avid anticipation. A fact 
that Clay didn’t miss at all.

They had had a very productive morning and he saw no reason not to celebrate their 
good ‘fortune and test Ginger yet some more. Standing up and walking back into the opened 
section he went straight to one of several cabinets that had been hidden, opened it, took out 
what he wanted and headed back to Ginger.

Obviously she knew that he had taken something in his gloved hands, but even seeing 
what he was holding in his hand, she didn’t know it purpose. But also obviously, Clay did as 
the smile on his face proclaimed as he approached her.

Always in the past Ginger had reluctantly given him mediocre blow jobs. He was sure that 
this would change that fact now and in the future once he had her in the proper frame of 
mind, which he also intended to do. Dropping the heavy leather device in her unsuspecting 
lap, giving her a chance to discover its intent, Clay again walked away to return with several 
more items in his hands which she had no trouble understanding.

Ropes, a short and stiff whip that had belonged to Jethro and the long handled broom she
had been using earlier to clean the dust filled room.

“I still don’t know what this is used for, Clay. Do you?”

“I do. And I will explain it to you just as soon as I get you properly bound to accept it. On 
your knees, place the broom behind your back and hold the ends with your hands as I tie your
hands to the handle.”

Again, as before, his words were not threatening but the implications unequivocal. They 
both knew that if she complied with his instructions she would be utterly defenseless.

Ginger sat up, then got on her knees, placed the handle behind her back and silently 
offered her wrists to Clay as he tied them to the ends of the broom. As he did she couldn’t 
help but see the effect that position had on her breasts. Would they again be his target, she 
wondered, as the ropes began to cut into her wrists delightfully and blood began rushing 
faster in her veins.

Her arms taken care of, Clay stood in front of her and picked up the article she still didn’t 
understand the use of and began to explain it to her.

Brushing off the last remaining particles of dust, he began, “See this part that is flanged?”

“Yes.”

“It is placed in your mouth and your teeth fit into the grooves here and here.” She was 
beginning to get the idea. “Their purpose is it keep your mouth opened. The strap is fastened 
around your head and hold it in place for me to insert my cock in the tube and literally fuck 
your mouth.”

Her last uncertainties were erased with his final sentence. She fully understood the use and
significance of the tube like implement.

Never an avid oralist, Ginger knew she would soon have to overcome her aversion to the 
act. But as he began to place it in her mouth she also knew that her aversion no longer 
mattered. She was in efficient bondage. The ropes were having their unusual effect on her 
mind and body. Clay wanted her to undergo this, to her humiliating, act and her repugnance 
no longer matter in the least. In fact, she was unexpectedly eager for him to continue. He was 
totally gentle as he forced the flared side into her mouth, allowed her ample time to get her 
teeth into the proper grooves, then firmly attach it to her face by the connecting straps that 
fastened behind her head. She found the sensation of her mouth being forced open quite 
gratifying actually and was actually beginning to anticipate the rape of her mouth by Clay.

He had yet made reference to the whip he had brought along, however. But that too was 
soon rectified, as he asked, “Ass or breasts?” A question that needed no translation in her 
mind. But her response to it did.

Over the years her many fantasies had all centered around similar scenes as the one about 
to be acted upon, but until last night none had been reality. Could she withstand her tender 
titties to be whipped with the vicious whip Clay was holding? Did she really want them to be 
whipped by anything, for that matter? Or her ass?

Still feeling the lingering effects of last night’s attention to her breast, she quickly came to 
the decision that currently, at least, her ass was a better location to receive Clay’s proposed 
attention. Coming to that conclusion and being unable to easily verbalize her choice, Ginger 
turned slightly sideways of Clay and stuck her ass out in answer as she remained on her knees.

Scant time later said whip was making blazing contact with said offered ass as Clay began 
to wield the whip as if he was quite proficient with it intended use. Cracking sound, 
excruciating pain and tube gagged mouth later, Ginger could no longer suppress her screams.
A fact that Clay quickly acted on.

Recalling her request of the previous night, long past the time he himself would have 
stopped whipping her very colorful ass, he instantly dropped the whip and ceased using it 
when she screamed, as he more or less tried to guess her desires. He flung her onto the floor 
on her back. A second later his cock was sliding through the tube and entering her sucking 
mouth.

His leather covered hands digging into her hair, Clay rammed in and out of the tube and 
her mouth. He was pleased to note that she no longer had any aversions to sucking his cock. 
At least under this type of situation at least. A fact that he was eager to confirm.

Releasing his hold on her hair he was pleased when Ginger continued the fucking motions 
all on her own until the logical conclusion was reached. He flooded her sucking mouth as he 
pressed all the way into the tube and her mouth as she eagerly sucked all she could with her 
mouth wedged open as it was.

With a sudden withdraw Clay was blessed with the sight of his manly cream spilling out of 
the end of the tube as he bent over and tenderly nuzzled her hard capped tits until she 
calmed and he released her from her bondage.

<<< IMAGE 05 >>>





CHAPTER SIX


The following week set their relationship as they prepared the house for the future lives.

When Clay was unable to be present, Ginger was forbidden entry into the basement. That 
room was strictly for their mutual use, never to be used without the other unless Ginger was 
left there in bondage that Clay had devised for her enjoyment. And as the week passed, they 
both knew that she did enjoy bondage no matter how it was done.

As they slowly got the basement room back into its originally designed way they eagerly 
sampled each and every piece that they unearthed along the way. Some to greater extent 
than others as they continued to test themselves and the new realm in their lives. And as time 
progressed Ginger became less and less shy about stating her desires although she was still 
hesitant to do so. But Clay, at times, refused to use something that she had obvious interest in
until she did.

They were both still learning about the other.

It was their forth night there that Rachel Coughlin Redington again made an appearance 
at her previous home.

*

Ginger had almost gotten used to the fact that she was unclothed when at the new house 
as she spent most of the morning clearing out the attic. The vacuum had sucked up tons of 
dust and dirt before she even tried to see what was underneath the various drape covered 
mounds, inside the closed boxes and behind various old fashioned screens that filled the large
room.

Clay had left explicit instructions that nothing was to be thrown out without careful 
inspection. Ginger followed his directives to the letter. Unearthing each item at a time she 
looked it over carefully and began to understand his instructions as fetching article after 
fetching item was discovered and solicitously set aside in one of the empty room on the top 
floor for Clay to look over too.

By the time he joined her for lunch she had discovered many old fashioned articles of 
clothing. They themselves were worthless, but they did give them something to think about, 
especially the old corsets. Rug beaters, old tools, long hat pins, and a collection of ancient 
paddles had abundant uses. As did several old and cracked books with sexual illustrations.

The mass majority of things though were literally junk in their opinion. Those were carried 
out to the dumpster that Clay had rented that was quickly filling, not only with the articles 
from the attic but with the debris from the demolished wall in the basement.

Lunch over Clay left after a sound spanking was delivered to Ginger’s ass and they had a 
fantastic fuck, leaving Ginger resumed her cleaning with new vigor for the assigned task. By 
the time he again joined her just before supper Ginger had the attic cleaned. The pile of 
interesting items had grown a bit, the one to be discarded even more so. A job that Clay 
handled before they again made their way to the basement room to dine on the meal Clay 
had picked up cm his way.

Setting the lemonade beside them, Ginger was in the process of pouring some for Clay 
when she stopped still. A moment later her scream filled the stone chamber as Clay jumped in 
response to her unknown attacker. Seeing what Ginger saw, he, too, stood perfectly still.

He had only seen her once before in this very same room.

Two sets of startled eyes apprehensively watched Rachel Coughlin Redington approach 
them.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, Ginger. Please excuse my abrupt entry.

“Who ahhh are you?”

“Really, Ginger, I would have thought you would have known that without asking.”

“Ginger, allow me to introduce you to ancestor. Rachel Coughlin Redington. Rachel, this of
course is Ginger Phillips, the granddaughter of your sister.”

“Actually my great great-niece. It is nice to finally meet you face to face, Ginger. I’ve waited
a long time for this day to arrive. I had begun to think that it never would.”

“Arrive… you mean you knew it would?”

“Of course I did. I’ve been working for years to accomplish it.”

“You have? But why?”

“So I can finally rest and be allowed to join Jethro again. I see I’ve confused you even 
more, haven’t I? Well, let me explain.”

“Please do. To both of us,” Clay replied as he and Ginger slowly retook their places on the 
blanket on the floor as Rachel seemed content to stand in front of them.

“I realized too late what my actions would cause to happen. I freely admit it was my 
uncontrollable jealousy that was at fault. Jethro tried to explain it tome many times. But I 
refused to listen to him. They killed him, you know. All because of my jealousy. Such an evil 
emotion.”

“The day they killed him I came here and killed myself, with Sara’s help that is. She was so 
obliging. She even took the chair I stood on away so it looked like it happened by magic. But 
even that didn’t help. Jethro knew I had betrayed him. He told me so shortly after my death. 
He also told me what I had to do to be able to join him again.”

“Join him? I don’t understand.”

“I really am not allowed to tell you about the events after death, Ginger, so please don’t 
ask about it. I can tell you how I can redeem myself, though. Care to hear that?”

“Please,” Ginger and Clay answered at the same time as they began to relax in the 
presence of the “ghost” of Rachel.

“In the afterlife you must make up for your misdeed of life. Mine was the betrayal of 
Jethro, the man I loved desperately. I destroyed him, shortened his expected life, and the only 
way I can redeem myself is to have others finish our lives at they were meant to be finished 
here on earth.”

“I waited year after year, but no one came along until you two. For years I’ve been planting
thoughts and ideas in your minds to bring you to this point.”

“You’re the one responsible for my dreams and fantasies!”

“Yes, Ginger, I am. You see it had to be our descendants that fulfilled our assigned lives. 
You were so cooperative that I couldn’t resist. From the day of your conception I have been 
watching and teaching you what you needed to know and do. This week you took the first 
step in that direction.”

“The pain and bondage, you mean?”

“Yes, the pain and bondage. But that is only part of it. Even now you are reluctant to allow 
Clay full, undisputed control over you. That, too, you must do to free me to join Jethro. You 
can have no restrictions. No constrains must be placed on his actions with you. You must 
totally serve him, no matter his wants or desires.”

“But how can I do that?”

“By eliminating all jealousy from your life. You must love him more than anything else. 
More than you life. More than your jealousies. More than anything. Right now you are very 
similar to me when I first married Jethro. You are selfish of his love. You demand that he not 
do certain things that you object to. And that must be eliminated forever if I am ever to join 
Jethro and if you are ever to love him totally without reservations.”

“But how do I do that? How do I change? And why would I want to if I could?”

“Ahhh, that is the crux of the matter. Why should Ginger want to change? And that is why I
am here. To tell you. To tell you that if you don’t love him completely, without reservation, you 
will never be totally happy yourself. You will become as I did. You will remain selfish and 
jealous and destroy all hopes of obtaining happiness.”

“I know you trust Clay. I have instilled that trust in you. But you need to supply the final 
ingredient. Blind faith in him, just as he needs to do the same in you. Without that you are 
both doomed to find only unhappiness with each other. Jethro tried to prove that to me by 
playing on my jealousy but I was too doltish to understand it then.”

“It has taken me almost a hundred years to find you two to change what should have 
happened with Jethro and me. You two can do that for us. Jethro is patiently waiting for me to
join him where he waits, but you two are holding us from each other. Just as you are 
withholding from each other. You think of this as a game to be played. It isn’t. It is your 
destiny.”

“Clay will never do what you truly don’t want him to do to you, Ginger. Believe that. Trust 
him categorically, utterly and steadfastly. Erase all doubts from your mind. Both of you. Let 
you true and deep feelings guide you from here on. Set me free. Set yourselves free, to be all 
that you were destined to be.”

With those words Rachel began to fade right before their eyes until she was there no 
more. She left two perplexed people behind. It was several minutes before they drew their 
eyes from the spot she had been standing at.

“Was that real, Clay? Did we really see her?”

“We must have. We both saw the same thing, heard the same thing. What do you think 
about what she said?”

“I… I don’t know. What am I withholding from you that made her say what she did?”

That Clay could answer. But he didn’t know if he should. Then recalling what Rachel had 
said to them he knew that he had to. “The answer to that question is other women, Ginger. 
Other women being present without you wanting to, how did you phrase it?, cut my balls off 
me if I did.”

Ginger smiled. “No, I think you said that. I said if you did you’d see just how possessive I 
really was. Do you think that was what she was taking about?”

“I don’t really know. But I do know that you are jealous about me with others and there is 
no reason to be.”

“Why is that? Wouldn’t you be the same if I was with some other man?”

“I might be, I don’t know. But you don’t understand why I want other women involved. I 
have no desire to have sex with them. Really I don’t. And I think that is your fear.”

“Then why do you even want other women around, Clay? What purpose would they serve 
without sex being the goal?”

“As a stimulate. I love you and only you, Ginger. Other women in and of themselves mean 
nothing to me. It is you I want to please. You I love. And I think that if you ever consent to 
having other women, or woman at first, present, you will learn that and trust me completely as
Rachel said we must trust each other.”

“But how do I know that you won’t just tie me up too and have sex with them?”

“That, I think, the question that needs to be answered. You won’t know until it happens, so 
you’ll have to trust me just like Rachel said. Just as I trust you not to do something that is 
offensive to my wants and needs.”

Ginger took several minutes to think that over and concluded that Rachel was right. They 
really had nothing without total and complete trust in each other. But could she really allow 
another woman into their lives and not be jealous? Did she trust Clay enough to do it? is what
it all boiled down to.

Trust. Just like Rachel said was the key to happiness.

“You have no desire to engage in sex with other women, just to use them for our 
pleasures?”

“That is true, Ginger. Trust me enough to prove it to yourself?”

“With who?”

“That, too, should make no difference. It could be your worst enemy or your best friend or 
a total stranger in fact. It is the trust in each other that is important. Do you trust me enough 
to bring another woman here? To harm her for our enjoyment? To believe that I will not have 
sex with her?”

“I… I want to.”

“Then we’ll do it. We’ll get another woman to join us.”

*

Clay chose her arch rival. Her worst enemy, to prove his point.

He brought Melody Morgan over the very next night.

Melody Morgan had been Ginger’s fiercest competition all though grade school, high 
school and the years following. In many ways they were alike. Both were extremely popular, 
attractive, outgoing and desired by the opposite sex, and thus they became confirmed 
enemies.

Ginger almost screamed out in total frustration when Clay entered their house with 
Melody in tow. Beautiful, black-haired, alluring Melody entered her house on Clay’s arm as she
stood exactly as he had ordered. In the center of the living room, stark naked, with leather 
bands decorating her wrists and ankles. All of which were connected with slender chains.

Melody could have no misconceptions about Ginger’s place in Clay’s life. No, none at all.

She even had the audacity to smile as Clay closed the door behind them. Ginger seethed 
in not only jealousy, but in humiliation, as he led Melody to the basement door.

“Follow us, Ginger,” were his only words as they stepped through the door.

Ginger wanted to run. But two things stopped her. One, Clay had the key to the locks 
connected to her bands, and two, she had to learn if he had spoken the truth.

She followed them down the stairs.

If she had taken the time to question Clay’s presence with Melody, Ginger might have 
wandered why she seemed so complacent. That fact, although Ginger didn’t know it but Clay 
did, was answered by two simple facts: Melody had long been attracted to Clay and would 
gladly do anything he requested of her, and two, Melody was a much more confirmed 
submissive than Ginger was and she had jumped at Clay’s offer.

Clay had know of Melody’s infatuation not only with him but with her receptiveness to 
pain and much more to humiliation. He had played upon both of those facts when he had 
approached her and offered her an evening with him and Ginger as their surrogate sexual 
stimuli. He promised her that he would humiliate, bind and harm her as he and Ginger 
participated and/or looked on.

Melody would have joined him under any circumstances, but with the ones he offered it 
became a foregone conclusion as soon as he said the words. She was more than willing to 
play any role he assigned to her, especially the one offered. Her favorite. If she, too, had 
stopped to consider exactly what Clay had offered her she would have realized that among 
the things he promised to, engaging in sex was not one of them.

She had been surprised at Ginger’s mode of “dress” upon entering their new home, but 
she simply relegated it to part of the evening’s entertainments and thought nothing of seeing 
Ginger decked out in bands and chains on her otherwise nude body. Other than to be jealous 
of her relationship with Clay.

Arriving in the basement room, Melody had to stop and look around. Never. Never had 
she seen such equipment gathered in such profusion in just one location in her life. And she 
had had ample opportunities over the years to be quite familiar with other’s collections of the 
erotica.

Everything looked exceptionally clean, but somewhat aged at the same time. As if it had 
been gleaned from and antique collection of times past.

And some of the equipment was totally unfamiliar to her, an acknowledged authority in 
the field of painful pursuits. All of it looked vastly intriguing, too, as she finally began to move 
again as she noticed Ginger coming up behind her.

“Please remove your clothing, Melody, while I situate Ginger for the demonstration.”

Turning away from the complying Melody, Clay turned and offered Ginger his hand, which
she accepted without a thought and allowed herself to be led across the room. At a silent 
motion of his hand, she offered up her bound wrists and Clay quickly fastened her connecting 
chains to a hook overhead.

Ginger in the correct position, he again turned his attentions to Melody who was still in 
the process of removing her clothes.

“If you expect any gratification, Melody, you had better move a lot faster than that. Get 
those clothes off now.”

His words having the correct voice of command, Melody increased her speed so fast she 
became uncoordinated, and Clay derided her for that, too, as he began to fulfill his promise to
humiliate her. And as an acknowledged submissive it was humiliating to not do as told. Plus 
the fact that she so wanted to please Clay made her even more clumsy and Clay was “forced” 
to urge her along with the tip of a whip to her bared hip.

“Not good enough, Melody. You have earned yourself silence for your actions. Put this 
where it belongs,” as he held out a strip of duct tape. Knowing perfectly well Where it 
belonged’, Melody licked her lips, then covered them with the wide metallic colored tape as 
she hung her head in shame yet again.

Clay reached out and using her nipple as a leash, led her across the room to stand directly 
in front of Ginger. The two women silently stared at each other trying to understand just what 
was going on.

“Arms behind the fat pipe and legs spread so Ginger can see your slavish cunt.”

Again Melody complied as goose bumps parade up and down her body when she 
contacted the cool pipes. Her arms where behind her, her back pressed against the largest 
pipe, and her legs were widely spread. Ginger had no problems seeing slavish cunt. Her naked,
not a hair, cunt hanging down between her legs.

A naked cunt? Ginger had never even thought along those lines. Would something like 
that be appealing to Clay, she wandered. But she set her musings aside as Clay began to tie 
Melody to the pipes.

Using a medium length of rope, he looped it around her chest and the pipe behind her 
back and tied it off leaving several feet hanging limply behind her. Other loops around her 
arms and pipes held her arms and hands out of the way. Then it was on to her legs. Her right 
leg was tied to the upright pipe forcing her legs to open even wider and display her bare cunt 
even more.

There was a lower pipe somewhat in front of her. To that one Clay tied her left leg, raising 
it in the process. She no longer had any options about displaying her wet snatch to Ginger. 
With that thought in mind, Ginger smiled for the first time since Melody had entered their 
house.

“I see you finally approve of our slut, don’t you, Ginger?”

“I… yes, I do. But what are you going to do with her?”

“Nothing elaborate. Just a lesson in pride. You see, Ginger, Melody is vastly proud her cunt
and its talents. For some reason, she thinks that it is unique, when in fact all women possess 
one. A bit of a strange idea, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Strange. But how are you going to prove to her that it isn’t anything special?”

“By showing her how utterly defenseless and useless it is. I’ve heard stories from various 
men that she is proud of her muscle control. Think muscles will do any good against rope?”

Beginning to get the idea, Ginger answered, “Not in the least. Why don’t you show her.”

“My pleasure.”

Taking the hanging end of the rope behind her back, Clay slowly slid it up and between 
her pouting cunt lips. After several inches of rope was in his hand, he wrapped a loop around 
his palm and slowly, ever so slowly began to slid the rope into her increasingly dampening 
slot. The rope dug into her crack, covered her dripping tunnel and began to press quite firmly 
against her enlarging clit.

“It appears that her proud cunt is no longer even opened, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. Making it totally worthless in anyone’s book.”

“But yours on the other hand,” reaching with his free hand, Clay slid his fingers up her wet 
track, “is much more obliging. Totally open and very inviting. In my opinion, yours is much 
more talented. Don’t you think?”

“Aahh much more.”

Not only were Clay’s words and actions having a direct effect on her body, but his fingers 
were working magic on the topic of discussion. And her passions rose higher and higher 
Ginger began to feel her jealousies disappear. He had proven his words true.

All the time he had been working with Melody, his cock had remained soft. But with his 
first touch to her it began to rise to its full potential. A fact that both women were quick to 
notice. A fact that pleased Ginger beyond anything.

A fact that Melody soon realized would leave her with only the humiliation and pain. Not 
with the sexual gratification that she had so desired. But as a truly devoted submissive, she 
took what was so graciously offered and enjoyed what she could, which did not leave her out 
in the cold by any stretch of the imagination.

<<< IMAGE 06 >>>





CHAPTER SEVEN


“You know,” Clay said, as if the thought were totally unheard of, “I think that Melody is about 
to climax with the rope in her closed off cunt. What do you think about that?”

Ginger had two thoughts about his statement. One, he was silently asking her if she 
wanted Melody to come as she was obviously close to doing. And two, that she truly wanted 
her to have that satisfaction as the very last vestige of her jealousy was vanished. Never to 
again raise its ugly head between her and Clay.

“In that case, I think she should have whatever she wants.”

“You mean that? You don’t care if she comes by my hands?”

“No. I no longer care, Clay. She deserves her own enjoyments, too.”

Ginger couldn’t help but see the gratitude in Melody’s eyes at her words and she knew 
that no longer would she consider Melody anything but another woman. She was not her 
rival. Nor her enemy. If anything, they were almost too similar, and knowing that Clay had no 
desire whatsoever to fuck her, Ginger thought that Melody deserved some satisfaction.

Knowing that Ginger had learned a very valuable lesson with Melody’s help, Clay let up on 
his constant pressure of the rope and began a sawing motion that within seconds brought 
Melody to climax as the two of them watched the emotions play across her face and flood her
body.

When she was just descending her spiraling pinnacle, Clay let go of the rope, unzipped his 
leather pants and sank his cock up Ginger’s welcoming glove of passion until they, too, had 
reached a similar crescendo of their own as the envious Melody looked on in despair of 
having the same intimate contact.

But unknown to her and to Ginger, she was destined to have contact other than from Clay 
before the night was over.

*

Totally freeing both women, Clay gave each of them manacles with short connecting 
chains and told them to put them on their ankles. After just a moment’s hesitation, because of
the presence of each other, they both complied.

“Now each of you place these behind your backs and allow me to tie you to them,” as he 
held out two slender wooden poles.

Each took the offered poles, placed them behind their back and adjusted them at the 
bends of their elbows, then stood silently and patiently as Clay fastened the poles to their 
elbows. They were bound but their hands remained basically free. Their only restrictions being
the poles themselves, and of course the chains and manacles on their ankles as Clay told them
to kneel side by side in front of him as he took up a single stranded whip.

“I’m sure you will both appreciate this. A sort of competition for you two. A competition of
submission. As my intended, Ginger gets to choose either breasts or ass to be whipped. What 
she declines will be given to Melody. Ginger, which do you choose?” She didn’t even pause 
before saying, “My breasts.

Her ass.”

“So be it. Place yourselves in spoon fashion, Ginger in the front, Melody behind her. Very 
good,” as they assumed the prescribe placement. “The first one to asking to stop will stop the 
whipping. Thus, if either, or both, of you wish it to continue you may aid each other by using 
your hands to soothe the other. Everything understood?”

Ginger and Melody silently nodded their heads as Ginger moved her hands to Melody’s 
hips in anticipation of rubbing away the forthcoming pain, as Melody brought hers to Ginger’s
chest.

Seeing both prepared, Clay began a simple rotation. He whipped Ginger’s breasts, then 
Melody’s ass. Breasts. Ass. Breasts. Ass. Again and again the whip landed on quivering female 
flesh as hands roamed over the same territory to ease some of the pain away to allow them to
continue for a longer length of time.

Melody was the first to scream, followed two strokes later by Ginger. But neither asked 
him to stop. Thus he didn’t.

Back and forth. The whip flicked to breasts. Then to ass cheeks. And still they didn’t ask 
that he stop. Again and again the single stranded whip made sharp, stinging contact to red 
lined body parts.

Again and again they screamed.

But not for him to stop.

Sweat broke out on his brow. It began to trickle down the sides of his chest and still the 
request did not come. His arm was getting notably tired as minute after minute passed but 
Clay could not stop on his own accord. It had to be by one of them requesting that he do so. 
He had set the rules, and he, too, had to comply with them.

Ginger’s head was thrown back across Melody’s shoulder. Melody’s rested on Ginger’s. He 
saw fingernails digging into skin. He watched as they pressed closer and closer to each other, 
Ginger’s ass against Melody’s pussy. And still the request did not come from either screaming 
woman.

They twisted. They jerked. They screamed.

Sweat dripped into Clay’s eyes and he wiped it away with his free hand. He began to hate 
his words about a competition as flecks of blood began to splatter on the floor in front of 
Ginger and behind Melody. And still…

“Sssttooopppppppppppppppppppppppppppp,” came from both of them at the exact 
same time, as if they had planned it. Clay instantly dropped the whip and helped both of them
to lay on the floor. Ginger on her back. Melody on her stomach.

Seconds later Clay was rubbing a soothing, healing cream into their battered skin as they 
moaned and squirmed on the stone floor. When they were liberally covered, he removed both
manacles and wooden bars from them and allowed them to relax.

But contrary to his thinking, they did not want to relax. They wanted gratification and 
again as if planned, they turned to each other and in a matter of seconds each was face to 
cunt to the other.

Lips, tongues, mouths and nipping teeth came into instant play. As did hands. Ginger 
grabbed battered ass cheeks as Melody took possession of whipped breasts. Side by side. 
Legs opened. Pelvises tipped forward, they went wild.

Neither had ever made love to a woman before. But that fact did not get in the way of lust
and desire. Both became expeditious learners in lesbian delights, both giving and receiving. 
They did what was natural. What they themselves wanted done to them and in the process 
brought the other to a pinnacle of culmination in record time.

But once was not enough.

They did it again.

And again.

Then one more time before their energies failed to keep up with desires.

*

With their actions finally concluded Clay had a thought that had been lurking in the back 
of his mind for quite some time and wondered how Ginger would react. With their just 
concluded performance, he didn’t think she, or Melody, would object in the least.

So as they rested on the floor, he gathered what he wanted in preparation. Several 
minutes later both females were ensconced in the shower upstairs and washing away the 
accumulated sweat, creams and combined juices that had been expelled.

Ordering each of them to act as lady’s maid for each other, Clay watched in approval as 
they tenderly dried each other’s bodies and towel dried each other’s hair. They treated each 
other as fragile dolls, as if even the slightest hint of force might make the other break.

A completely baffling idea considering what both of them had just gone through without 
the slightest objection. It was almost as if they were atoning for their earlier treatment. He 
allowed them all the time they seemed to want, but when they showed that they were 
finished, he was ready.

“Place these back on Ginger’s ankles,” as he held the manacles and short connecting chain 
out for Melody to take from his hand.

“I…” Melody was a confirmed submissive and as such did not want to play the role of 
being dominate in the least. But as she saw Clay’s expression harden she took the offered 
articles and silently knelt in front of Ginger’s body.

It was a new and unsettling experience for her as she fastened the manacles around 
Ginger’s ankles. Never before had she placed any article of bondage on anyone except for 
herself. She did not like it, as both of her companions could easily see. They both knew that 
she was doing it only because ordered to do so.

“Now you place these on Melody.” Clay held out a pair of long, form-fitting black boots 
for Ginger.

Not thinking of the boots as bondage, Ginger did not have the same problem as Melody 
had had. In fact the act of dressing her made Ginger feel appropriately submissive, which she 
enjoyed, and the fact was quickly accomplished.

“Now tie this just like I did earlier.” That time Clay was holding one of the wooden bars 
that they both had had on earlier in the basement tied to their elbows.

That created the same conflicts in Ginger as the manacles had with Melody. As the tables 
were turned, so to speak, Melody could see that Ginger was just as reluctant as she had been 
earlier. But she, too, complied as ordered, no matter her reluctance to do so. She was vastly 
relieved when the deed was done.

“Melody, you are to sit on the toilet with your legs spread wide. Use your hands to hold 
you cunt opened for Ginger. If you refuse you can leave now, never to return.” The last 
sentence was added quickly when he saw that she was in the process of refusing.

But Clay had no illusions about either woman.

Both were predominately submissive and would do almost anything to remain under his 
direction. With his final sentence spoken he saw the change come over Melody as she slowly 
and with obvious reluctance complied with his requests.

Both Clay and Ginger thought that Melody was quite a sight to see. Her still slightly damp 
hair was beginning to curl, covering her shoulders. Her long, attractive legs were covered with 
the black boots to just below her knees. And the bar attached to her elbows added the 
element of bondage, even if she was not uncomfortable in it.

Both also noticed that they were becoming aroused by what they were seeing.

“Keel before her, Ginger, and make her come. After the third time, I’ll fuck you. Either ass 
or pussy, the choice is yours. But only after Melody has come twice.”

Ginger had no qualms about following that order. Her first experience with Melody’s pussy
had been anything but negative. She had nothing to fight. She was definitely in the submissive
role, as to an extent so was Melody. But hers was much more so as she lowered herself to her 
knees before Melody.

The manacles on her ankles and the connecting chain was no hindrance at all. It added to 
the scene as she slowly brought her face and hands between Melody’s wide spread legs. Her 
cunt was totally open as her fingers held her that way.

Resting an arm on each leg, Ginger took her first of many licks. Her first taste was all it 
took for her body to take over. Melody, no matter her situation, was excited by her mild 
bondage and by being ordered to submit. She was producing abundant creams for Ginger to 
lick away.

Contrary to their earlier time together, Ginger was no longer willing to go slow and easy. 
She had the promise of Clay’s cock in her. Something that she vastly wanted. The sooner the 
better. And the way to get it was to make Melody come.

Melody didn’t stand a chance of denying Ginger’s resolve. As she curled her fingers under 
her hanging ass and grabbed her tenderized tush and dug into her cunt with teeth, lips and 
tongue, it was a quick battle lost. She was coming. And all three of them knew it as Ginger 
took unfair advantage of her bruised and battered ass to make her come again in almost 
record time.

With Melody’s second spurting come Ginger turned slightly and got up on her knees and 
spread her legs as far as the connecting chain would allow. She was more than ready for Clay’s
cock.

Lifting her head from Melody’s pussy just enough for her words to be heard, she said, 
“Fuck my asss.” That out of the way, she dove back in with every intention of making Melody 
come yet some more.

Clay knelt behind Ginger. Using one hand to hold her ass cheeks apart, he used the other 
to guide his cock to her asshole. Firmly encased in her sucking tunnel, Clay then reached for 
Melody’s breasts over Ginger’s body and the three of them became intimately joined around 
and in each other.

Their mutual actions, motions, wants and needs soon overcame all objections in their 
minds. They all had one community goal. To come and make the others come too.

They all succeeded remarkable well.

*

Being married to Jethro was more wonderful than any of my dreams had ever foretold it 
would be. He was all, and more, that I could ask for in a man, a lover and a master. Over the 
first months of our marriage he thought me what he expected and wanted from me.

I learned everything he thought me. I learned to climax from the pain he administered to 
me. I eagerly followed his each and every order, no matter what it was.

Until…

We had been married for three glorious months before I discovered that I was not his 
exclusive slave. Jethro had always avoided me during my monthly and as my curse came again
I wasn’t surprised to find myself along in our room. I knew that he wanted children and each 
time my curse came I could tell that he was disappointed in me. So disappointed that he 
would leave me alone.

It was just by accident that I decided to visit our special room in the basement that night. 
All I really wanted to do was look at the equipment that I had been thought to crave. But as I 
made my way down the stairs I couldn’t help but notice the room was not dark. And it was not
empty as I expected.

Before I even placed my foot on the first step I knew what I would find. I had heard that 
sound too many times not to recognize it.

The sounds of a whip stricken flesh.

The sounds of a woman’s scream of pain/pleasure. Until I finally could see who was there, I
had convinced myself that it couldn’t possibly be Jethro in that room. Unfortunately I was 
wrong.

Suzanne’s body was nude. Except for the ropes encircling her full breasts that Jethro was 
whipping with the beaded whip that I craved so much.

My very first glance was enough to tell me that I had missed most of their time together. 
Suzanne was almost literally covered from neck to knees with the marks of my favorite whip as
I stood on the final step of the stairs and moaned in humiliation.

Humiliated because it was obvious that my husband was not content with me. He had 
sought out others, and I knew there were others, not just Suzanne. I had talked myself into 
believing that I was all he needed. I now knew I was wrong. I was not enough for Jethro. I was 
lacking.

I couldn’t face my shame.

I turned and ran.

But I had not escaped unnoticed.

A miserable hour later Jethro came to our room as I huddled on my lonely bed in shame.

“Why did you run away?”

Why? I had to explain my shame to him? I had to state that my own husband found me 
unworthy? “Answer me, Rachel. Why did you run away?” Even in my shame and misery I could 
not disobey his request. Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I hung my head and answered, 
“Because I’m not… good enough for youuuu ahhh I’mmm lacking.”

“Lacking? In what way are you lacking?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Then why do you say you are lacking? You make no sense.”

“Because you… preferred another to take my place.”

“How do you come to that conclusion? To my knowledge you are the only wife I have. 
How have I chosen another?”

“By… harming her instead of me.”

“That is the most ridiculous statement I have ever heard. Physical release has nothing to 
do with love. I love only you, Rachel.”

“No you don’t. You love Suzanne, too.”

“I do not. Oh, I understand now. You are jealous.

Aren’t you?”

“And why shouldn’t I be? You chose her over me.”

“No. I used her and not you. It isn’t the same thing.” Of course I didn’t believe him, did I 
Ginger? But you finally believed Clay. I can almost feel myself getting closer to Jethro, Ginger. 
All because of you.” Ginger sat up in bed and looked around. But she saw no one.

What a vivid dream, she thought.

“No, Ginger, it was not a dream. It was me. No, you can’t see me here in your home, only 
in Jethro’s can you see me. But I have been here hundred’s of times. I give you your dreams. 
Here’s another one I’m sure you will enjoy.”

Even in her sleep Ginger smiled and knew that Rachel was correct. It was an exceptionally 
good dream.

<<< IMAGE 07 >>>





CHAPTER EIGHT


The next three weeks were hectic as they began to move into the Redington house and 
prepare for their wedding. Ginger had spend so much time at her soon to be home that she 
began to think of her normal mode of dress to be none. She began to feel confined when 
wearing clothing and had to smile at that thought.

Clothing was confining but bondage was freedom. It seemed like a contradiction, but for 
Ginger it wasn’t a contradiction at all. It was a confirmed, verified fact of her life. And the more
time she spend with Clay, the more it was confirmed and verified.

Not only was that confirmed, but so was the fact that Rachel Coughlin Redington had 
almost become her permanent companion, at least in her mind.

It was nothing at all to hear Rachel speaking to her at any time of the day or night and 
when she was at Rachel’s home she saw her too. But it did cause a few moments of hilarity, at 
least for Ginger, when Rachel would pick times that Ginger was with others to talk with her 
and Ginger answered. Her friends began to think that Ginger was slightly off kilter when she 
had one sided conversations with walls, or doorways, or lamp posts.

Ginger couldn’t have cared less what her friends thought of her. She was learning from 
Rachel. Learning very valuable lessons as dreams and conversions began to build, one upon 
the other.

Ginger was at the local department store trying to select towels and bedding for her new 
home. Rack upon rack of towels had to be gone through and Ginger and Mary were making a 
valiant effort to pick just the right ones. But Ginger couldn’t quite keep her conversations 
straight between Mary and Rachel.

“These will look wonderful in the master bath, Ginger,” Mary was saying as she held up her
choice for that room.

But before Ginger could answer her comment, Rachel popped in with, “The white would 
be easier to get blood stains out of, don’t you think?”

“Why blood,” Ginger asked.

“No, Ginger, not the blood red ones, these dark blue ones,” Mary corrected her as she 
them up for Ginger to see better.

Rachel and Ginger smiled at the misunderstanding.

In the bedding store, with Carol, Rachel again broke into their conversation. “Have you 
ever thought of having Clay pierce your breasts with rings.”

“Rings?”

“Rings,” asked Carol, “Of course I like your rings. Didn’t I tell you so all ready.”

“Yes, rings in your breasts. Jethro was going to do that to me before I messed up 
everything. I thought it a wonderful idea.”

“Breasts?”

“No, Ginger. I said best, not breasts,” Carol said with a chuckle. “I said that this would go 
best. My, but your mind isn’t on shopping for bedding is it? Or is more on the physical 
bedding than bedding supplies?” She laughed at her joke.

Long after leaving the store and Carol, Ginger couldn’t get the idea of rings in her breasts 
out of her mind. A fact that she wholly contributed to Rachel.

That night at the house Rachel even said the same to Clay, who got a look in his eyes as if 
seriously considering her idea.

“You can’t be serious,” Ginger said as the two of them looked at her.

“Why not?”

“Yes, why not? I think it a delightful idea and as soon as I’m with Jethro again I’m going to 
let him to it to me.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Neither Clay or Rachel knew exactly who she was speaking to but it didn’t matter. They 
both nodded their heads.

“But why?”

“Because, as Rachel said, it sounds delightful. Just imagine all the things I could do with 
rings in your breasts. Weights. Bondage. Positions. You love breast attention, and I can 
guarantee that with rings in them your breasts would get ample. Why do you object, anyway?”

“I… I don’t know if I object or not. It just a strange idea for me to think about. And you,” 
turning to face Rachel, “if you find the thought so appealing why haven’t you put it into my 
dreams before so I could become accustomed to it like you did everything else?”

“But I haven’t put all my thoughts in your mind, Ginger. Just the ones that already had 
tentative starts from your own mind, like the acceptance of pain. Even ghosts have to have 
something to work with. It has to be in your nature to begin with.”

“Oh. Then I don’t have that desire?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Now you are putting words in Rachel’s mouth that she didn’t say, Ginger.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, now both of you are trying to get into my mind! And it isn’t fair. 
Two against one.”

“Are we, Ginger? Or are you trying to blame us for your own thoughts? Can you honestly 
say that you’ve never even thought of rings?”

“Well… no. But…”

“But what?”

“It scares me.”

“Why? The pain involved? Or is it something else?”

“No, ahhh it’s not the pain.”

“Then what is it?”

“The… I don’t know. The permanence of it, I guess.”

“And why is permanence so threatening? Why are rings any different than whips, or 
bondage, or anything else we do? Are you saying that all of this is just temporary?”

“NO. I ahh I mean, no. This isn’t temporary at all. I want it to continue forever, just like 
Rachel wants to get back to Jethro so she can continue where they left off.”

“But why does it scare you, Ginger? Tell me. Tell us, and we’ll try to help you.”

Ginger knew as soon as Clay asked the question that she’d have to tell the truth. She really
had no choice in the matter. She never really did with him, and especially now. “Be… because 
others would know about me, too.”

“And that makes a difference to you? That others might know that you are my sex slave?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because she still hasn’t learned that the slave is really the one in control.”

“What?”

“I think you’re right, Rachel. She doesn’t.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. Why do you say that slave is in control?”

“Because you are, Ginger. I can do no more than you allow.”

“Huh? You aren’t making any sense at all. I’m not in control of us, you are.”

“No. You are. Oh, yes, I could do something you didn’t like while you are in bondage. But 
the moment I let you free you’d leave, if it was serious enough. But we’re getting off the 
subject. What possible difference does it make if others know of your desires?”

“Because it’s… humiliating.”

“But I frequently humiliate you and you don’t object.”

“Not with you, no. But… others might think I’m ahh weird.”

“No. I don’t think so. Oh, there might be an oddball or two that does. But I think most 
people would just think you’re doing what you like. Do you think someone is weird if they are 
homosexual? Or transvestite? Or have black skin instead of white? Or like spinach and not 
pizza? You don’t like motorcycles, but do you think that people who do are weird? Or that you
like horseback riding and they don’t?”

“Well, ahh no.”

“Then what is the difference if we happen to want rings in your body, which is of no 
concern to anyone but us?”

“Put that way, it doesn’t make a difference.”

“Does that mean that you agree to let me place rings in your breasts?”

Taking a deep breath, she answered, “I’d be willing to let you kill me, if it would make you 
happy, so why not rings.”

Clay and Rachel smiled at her, and she smiled back. After all, she thought, what difference 
did it make anyway.

*

Clay and Rachel wanted the installation of Ginger’s rings to be commemorative, to be long
remembered as something very special in their lives. Thus they chose the date and setting 
with care.

They chose the night of the wedding rehearsal. The place was their soon to be master 
bedroom. Candles burned in the many holder around the room, lighting the room with their 
flickering glow as Clay led her into the room. Rachel was all ready present when Ginger walked
in carrying her clothing over her arm. As she set them aside neither could miss her sudden 
paleness nor the shiver she couldn’t control.

“Scared, love?”

“No. More apprehensive than anything, I guess. Where should I be?”

“There’s no rush.”

“I think I’d prefer to get it over with.”

“But I wouldn’t. I want to enjoy the anticipation for a while longer. Tell me something,” as if
he had just thought of it, “If we weren’t going to give you rings tonight, what would you like 
to be doing?”

“Doing?”

“Yes. What would you chose to do if it was your choice tonight?”

“I… I don’t know. Why?”

“Because I want you to pick it now. What would you like? A bit of bondage? Or maybe a 
favorite weapon used? Or a position? What, to you, would be a perfect night’s activity to 
engage in?”

It had been a long time since Ginger had made a request, having given the planning over 
to Clay. In fact, the last time she could remember asking, and receiving, anything by request 
was their first night here. When she had asked Clay to hurt her until she screamed from the 
pain of the wrench attached to her tit.

That made her think. She knew that after her choice was over her breasts would be pierced
and rings placed in them. So what would help her to anticipate that, or at least make it easier 
to accept when it did occur?

Suddenly she knew.

It was a story in Rachel’s diary that had been flitting around her brain since reading it. 
Turning to face Rachel, she said, “The night of the Governor’s Ball.”

At first Rachel and Clay looked baffled by her statement. But not for long. They both 
smiled. Rachel laughed as Clay got out his copy of her diary and began to thumb through it, 
not wanting to get anything wrong as Ginger silently waited at the end of the huge four 
poster bed. Her blood already beginning to rush through her body as she reached for the two
end posts of the bed and waited for Clay to finish his reading.

“A very memorable night, to be sure. But I think your ending will be even better than mine 
was.” Ginger thought so, too, as she recalled at the end Jethro had burnt Rachel’s nipples. 
Ginger, instead, would get rings in hers.

Jethro was in a very festive mood after we returned from the Governor’s Ball that night. It 
seemed that we almost ran up to our bedroom and before I knew it I was tied to the ends of 
the bed. Hands and feet widely spread as they were bond to the bed posts as he got out his 
riding crop.

He knew that I was partial to being cropped. It was something about the sound and the 
sharp pain that it delivered that I couldn’t resist. Jethro never used the length of the crop, just 
the wide flared end concentrated the pain in a very limited area. I was already aroused before 
he snapped it into to top of my right breast.

Across the tops of my breasts he created an almost liquid fire. Then down the sides as I 
began to shake with rising passions. When tops and sides were covered with red dots of erotic
pain he began on the full bottoms. Swinging the crop up my breasts bobbed all over my chest
as my jealous nipples pleaded to their kiss of crop too.

But it was not to be.

When all of my breasts were red in the wake of his crop Jethro began a slow course 
around my body. Back to buttocks. Breasts to public mound. By the time he again swung the 
crop up to my opened vagina I was almost out of mind in want of him. But he was far from 
finished with me.

The insides of my legs were his next target, then around them to the backs. He even 
ordered me to stick out my tongue and it got its share of pain too. From knees to chest, front 
and back. The crop landed everywhere except for my begging nipples. Over and over it landed
but he refused my pleas to strike my nipples saying that he had special plans for them when I 
could take no more.

I became weak from climaxing. My legs gave up all attempts of supporting my exhilarated 
body and finally he was ready to attend to my nipples.

Taking up one of the many candles he approached me and asked if I was ready for the 
special attention he had promised my nipples. I was long past the point of objecting to 
anything, even knowing his intent. I arched my back and offered them to the flame.

The same scene was repeated many years later, but the ending was different. Instead of 
candles Clay used needles. Needles that drove through Ginger’s nipples to be followed by the 
rings he had chosen. By that time Ginger was in the same condition as Rachel had been. She 
didn’t care what he did to her, as long as he fucked her.

The rings installed, he did. Gloriously. Magnificently. Fantastically. It went on forever. Like 
Rachel forgot the pain from the candles, Ginger forgot it from the needles and rings. She had 
only room to feel what Clay was giving her.

The night before their wedding Clay wanted something different. He didn’t know what, but
he wanted it. As Ginger cleaned up the mess from dinner he walked around and around the 
basement room looking for inspiration.

All of Jethro’s many and varied devices were scattered about the room. Each was cleaned 
and good working order and many had been used by him and Ginger. But still he couldn’t 
decide on what he wanted. He did know that he didn’t want to overtly harm her, saving that 
for their wedding night. But he did want something.

What could it be?

His eyes kept returning to the huge metal cock and balls chair that sat off to the side. 
Twice before he had used it and the embedded huge cock as a bondage device. Once tying 
Ginger’s arms to overhead beams and whipping her until she could stand it no longer. 
Another time he had simply made her fuck the cock.

But there was something about it that he had never quite understood. What was the 
purpose of the hollowed out track that went from the dildo to the end of the penis’?

Leaning over the device he studied it intently, but still could not understand the purpose. 
It was as he was bent over that Rachel’s voice came to him from across the way.

“It’s a urinal tube, Clay. To collect body champagne.” Turning his head toward her voice 
Clay couldn’t see her except for a vague outline.

“You’re fading away. Is something wrong, Rachel?”

“No. Everything is wonderful. I’m getting closer and closer to Jethro. I can feel him pulling 
me. I will be leaving you two soon.”

“We’ll miss you. But we’re happy for you because we know that’s what you want. Will you 
be going soon?”

“I think so. I can feel him.”

Clay smiled at her wavering shadow. “Don’t go yet. Wait for Ginger. I get her right now.”

Running up the stairs, he quickly explained to Ginger what was happening and they both 
rushed down stairs. Rachel was fading with each passing second. They could almost see the 
stone wall behind her.

“Drink a toast to us, Clay, and we’ll join you this one time before we go.”

“What does she mean, Clay?”

“I know. Come here, we have to hurry.”

Clay took Ginger’s hand and pulled her to the cock and ball chair and told her to get on it 
as he got things ready for the toast.

Ginger didn’t fully understand him but by looking at Rachel and seeing her smile she knew
that she was doing what Rachel wanted her to do. Using her hands to balance her, Ginger 
lifted her leg and straddled the chair’ until she eased herself onto the huge metal dildo and 
wiggled around until she was somewhat comfortable as Clay came to her with a long strand of
rope.

“Rest your hands on the balls while I get this on you, Ginger. Hurry, there’s still much to 
do.” Placing her hands behind her on the balls of the device, Ginger felt Clay use the rope and 
wrap it around her neck, then under her breasts and around her back, holding her arms to her
body. It was by no means stringent bondage but enough to make her nipples and the 
accompanying rings stand out full and proud on the ends of her breasts.

“Now open your mouth.”

Ginger saw the unusual gag in his hand, and even not understanding the full significance 
of it, did as told. The rubberized gag pressed into her lips as Clay pulled it tightly behind her 
head and fastened it. That in itself was not what got her attention.

The plastic tube that he connected to it did. A tube that had a plastic bottle of water 
attached to its other end. When it bag was hung on a convenient hook and Clay released the 
clamp Ginger soon got the message. She was being force feed. Well, more correctly, force to 
drink the water that was very quickly filling her mouth.

By the time she finished the first quart of water she could literally feel her bladder 
expanding and began to squirm on the dildo as she struggled to hold her urine in. But she 
knew she was doomed when Clay refilled the bottle.

“Don’t fight it. Drink it until you urinate so we can share a body champagne with Rachel 
and Jethro before they leave.”

Her eyes having hardly left the fading Rachel across the room, Ginger saw her smile at 
Clay’s word.

Ginger began to actually suck the water. If by peeing into the glass that Clay had just sat 
on the floor in front of her and the end of the penis’ would allow her and Clay to see and 
share a glass of body champagne’ with Rachel and Jethro, Ginger would do her damndest to 
fill the glass.

No longer trying to stop her body from functioning as it desired, Ginger let her muscles 
relax. A moment later her urine was tinkling into the glass on the floor as she keep her eyes 
fixed on Rachel.

When Clay ripped the gag out of her mouth and offered her a drink of body champagne’ 
Ginger didn’t even pause. She took a sip as they watched Rachel fade even more.

Then Clay was drinking from the glass. Holding it toward Rachel they both looked, not 
even blinking.

Rachel became solid again.

And standing beside her was Clay’s double.

Jethro Redington had come to claim his wife. The four of them stared at each other.

Then the Redingtons were gone.

As was the rest of the contents of the glass.

“Thank you Ginger. Thank you, Clay.”

There was a slight pause, then, “Oh, yes, Jethro, my love.”

<<< IMAGE 08 >>>


THE END
