I shadow her awkwardly on my hands and knees thinking about how it’s been decades since I’ve chosen to be in this position. Though, I’ve never been like this naked. As far as I can recall, anyway.
She stops in front of the master bedroom door and turns around. Her face beams with anticipation.
“You may stand up now.”
I retake my feet.
“Now, for the next part, we don’t need this,” she unclasps the leash, “but we’ll leave the collar on.” Her shoulders rise with a deep breath. “Are you ready?”
I glance at the wooden door behind her. Am I ready? I can’t find a reason to not be. Since I was allowed to stand, I guess I have permission to talk. “Yes, Mother.”
“Oh.” Her eyes close, and her mouth falls open as if in orgasm. Then she meets my eyes. “You are going to make me the happiest being ever.” She clasps the door handle and slowly twists it open.
I hold my breath, eager to see what’s inside. At first, I don’t understand what the large foreign object that has invaded my parents’ bedroom is. I squint and rack my brain to make some kind of connection.
Near where the stripper pole had been two days before, stands a large, wooden X with thick straps at the top and bottom. The dark stained wood gleams in the light.
“What is it?” I ask as Mother steps aside and motions for me to enter before her.
“This beautiful thing is a St. Andrews Cross,” she responds in a sultry voice as she drifts over to stand next to me.
I still don’t understand. The name holds no meaning to me. “What’s it for?”
“Let me show you. Stand in front of it.” Mother takes my wrist and walks me over until I’m inches from it, nose to the wood grain. She lifts my hand and fastens it tightly near the top of one of its “arms”. Her fingers slide across my back as she meanders to the other side and secures that wrist into place.
Something firm and pointy taps back and forth between my calves, and I grasp that she once again has her crop in her hand.
“Widen those legs for me.”
My insides clench as I comprehend how exposed and vulnerable I will be after I’m locked in a spread-eagle position. With my hands unavailable, I have little choice but to obey. One after the other, I step my feet apart until they’re in place.
“That’s a good boy, John,” she whispers as she fastens the first ankle.
My heart begins racing when I’m fully secured in place, unable to move any limb more than an inch or two. I try to imagine what might be coming next, but I have no frame of reference for any of this. What new game are we playing?
Mother’s heels click as she steps back and releases an appreciative exhale at what she sees. “Don’t worry, John. This will be worth it. Mother always rewards those who make her happy.”
My breath comes quickly. My head swims.
A whip cracks against my back. Unprepared for something so intense, I shriek.
From behind me, Mother moans orgasmically. “Oh, John. That’s so good.”
I pant through the pain.
She comes to stand next to me. Her feverish eyes glow like firelight. She runs a finger under her panties and then slips the dripping digit between my eager lips.
I close my eyes; the taste of it instantly numbs the throbbing on my back making it all worthwhile.
She licks her lips seductively when I open my eyes again. “We never discussed a safe word, John.”
My heart races. I don’t like pain and never imagined I would ever be in a situation that called for a safe word.
“Enough. That is your safe word. If you say it though, that means you have had enough of all of it for the day, John. Use it carefully. However, if you can wait until Mother has had enough, then she will see to it that you are well rewarded. Do you understand?”
She strokes my forehead, her hand soothing on my fevered brow.
“I understand, Mother.”
She gives me another taste, and I greedily suck it from her fingers. If this is the trade-off, I’ll never want to call out enough. The liquid provides a little more numbing from the aching, renewing my courage.
She moves back out of my line of sight.
I brace for another impact.
Nothing happens.
I strain to turn my head but can’t see behind me. I hold my breath and hear nothing. Has she left me here restrained?
I can just imagine Meisha’s shock if she were to come home and find me cuffed to a cross like this. How would I ever explain that?
The whip stings my exposed back again. I yelp. Mother moans.
I blink rapidly trying to hold back tears. The pain is sharp and biting.
Mother is once more at my side again, offering me more nectar from her fingers.
The cycle continues. I don’t know how long it goes on for. After each lash, Mother soothes me with her ambrosia. My addiction grows with each taste, and I realize that I might rather die before ever using my safe word.
