The Cry of Pain
(a short story)

Night descends early in Paton, West Virgina, a small taciturn town with a limited population of not more than several thousand families. The sidewalks, as the saying goes, "are pulled in" long before the hour of ten approaches and a bizarre selenceusually settles over the town, with here and there a lamp glowing in some window or another. An eerie feeling permeates the very atmosphere, and a stranger walking walking the streets at about that time might experience a somewhat chilling feeling of inexplicable uneasiness and perhaps a little fright.

Well, it was the latter part of November when the leaves were well on the ground, leaving the trees completely bare, casting their ominous shadows on the flickering landscapes, that I was bidding my weekly good-byes to my aunt and uncle who lived in a modest little house on Elm Street. I looked at my watch as I was leaving and noted that it read twenty-five minutes past nine o'clock. I turned up my coat collar for there was a crispness in the air, and I decided to take the shorter route leading through Oxford Road home.

As I approached the old Beathem mansion situated at the northwest corner of Oxford Rd. and Kenyon Pl. where the placid mill stream forms a junction with the forceful waters of the Kensack river and is lead or dragged rather into a veritable vortex of swirling, gushing pools that eventually leads to a contrastingly calmer lake. I suddenly paused. From somewhere inside the house there seemed to have come a heartrending cry of such anguish and pain that it caused me to stop in my tracks. I swallowed hard to rid myself of the hard lump that had formed in my throat. My ears perked up and some sort of plantive wail was repeated.

"Please don't spank me anymore," was the eerie sound that distinctively impinged itself upon my alert ears. Again I swallowed hard and turned down the collar of my coat. Crazy thoughts raced about haphazardly in my brain and my pulse throbbed uncontrollably. Curiosity rather than courage prompted me to investigate the cause and nature of the wild and weird sounds that rent the air at this particular hour when nearly all of Paton's good citizens were safely tucked away in bed for the night.

I had known the Beathams, Cain Beatham, his wife and three daugthors, only very casually, having met them on various occasions such as at the town grocery store or at the village market place. Perhaps three or four times, either at the barber shop or any one of the three or four repair shops in town. They were known to be a family that preferred to remain apart from the other citizens of the town, and as the gossips had it, if they enjoyed minding their own business, as it was, it was O.K. with them. So for about two years when the Beathams first purchased the house they now occupied that's they way things were between the Beathams and their fellow townsmen.

I somewhat cautiously approached the house and placed my finger on the button that road doorbell. My heart pounded wildly as I awaited a response to my summons.

Suddenly the door was flung back and there stood in the doorway a powerful figure of a man, bristling with rage, his face flushed and sweat pouring down his jowls. In his hand he held a wicked looking strap, that he evidently used for other purposes than honing a razor. Glowering madly at me with eyes almost ready to pop from their sockets, he growled rather than spoke to me, ''Yes, what can I do for you?"

Realizing almost at once that in this instance at least, discretion could be the better part of valor. I moistened my lips with my tongue and answered as gently and softly as I could manage under the circumstances.

"OH," I lied as smoothly as possible, but even I could note the timidity in the cracking of my voice, "I happened to be passing this way and I thought I heard someone cry for assistance. I would like to help out in some way, if that's at all possible."

I felt my knees shake and I though to myself rather fearfully, "What have I let myself in for?"

Mr. Beatham looked at me once more with those huge bulging eyes, and in a surprisingly friendlier tone said, "So you want to be of help, well that is sure very neighborly of you. Personally I think that you like other citizens of this damn forsaken town want to satisfy their nosey curiosity about the Boathams and the goings on in this house. Very well, let's find out if you can be of aid, and at the very same time have your curiosity satisfied."

With that he placed a firm grip on my arm and pulled with little assistance from me, towards a door that led to the cellar.

As we descended the stairway, I could hear the buzzing of quite a few voices. A hub-bub of screeches mingled with sounds of pain and torment. We approached a door on the left hand side of the cellar with dim rays of light sneaking through the cracks where the door joined with the ceiling and floor. Mr Beatham with a powerful kick from his tough booted foot pried open the door and the sight that met my eyes left me gasping.

Increadable as it may seem, there before my very eyes was for want of a bettor description a live tableau of some of the prettiest maidens imaginable, clad only in black satin brassieres and matching panties. Their legs were enclosed in the sheerest of silk stockings, with the blackest of black patent leather pumps, which in turn had the highest of high heels. Also several wore black kid gloves to the elbow. Some of these scantily clad beauties carried black snakelike whips in their hands, others were pinioned to the ceiling, their wrists and ankles tightly bound, and some even had gags in their mouths.

Mr. Beatham with his hand still gripping my arm walked me over to a lovely dark haired girl sitting on a bench on the far side of the room. Her eyes were red, apparantly from recent tears, and her long dark raven black locks hung in disarray over too smooth white shoulders. She squirmed as she sat in her satin panties, and I was soon to learn why.

"Now Mr. Bentley, " Mr. Beatham said to me, "this is my daughter Leona. I was in the midst of administering a good, sound, old-fashioned chastisement to my dear daughter here, when I was unceremoniously interrupted by the sound of the door boll. You see she very carelessly managed to break one of Mrs Beatham's favorite vases while dusting, and she must be thoughtful and taught a lesson. So you will please be seated and we stall continue where we left off."

He then shoved me towards a bench, sat himself down on a stool and smirkingly beckoned to Leona.

"Come here my girl," he cajoled, gripping the leather strap in his hand. Sobbing bitterly, the poor frightened girl approached and dropped on one knee before him, She whimpered, "Please daddy don't spank it bare, please don't,"

"All right," he answered, "kiss this strap with respect. Pitifully Leona took the strap and raised it almost tenderly while the tears gushed from her eyes and the sobs from her throat. Mr. Boatham grabbed the scantilly clad girl and placed her across his knees,

Then smack, the sting strap sounded across the satin clad derriere, smack, smack, swish it zoomed, The cries that spewed forth from the beautiful Leone were toe pitiful to hear. I plugged my ears with my fingers, Still it was impossible not to hear the anguished appeals, the heartrending cries of the girl.

"Please daddy, I'll be good...I'll be good, please don't spank me any more."

But obviously the epics descended on deaf oars, Snack, smack, smack sang cut the strap as it reached its target of soft pliant flesh.

"Please, please daddy, I'll be good. I'll be sooo careful in the future." But there seemed no way to mollifying the enraged Mr. Boathnm.

And as for me personally, I was at a loss at what I should do to succor the maiden in her pitiful plight. At last however, being either arm weary or perhaps relenting, Mr, Betaham came to a halt. Dropping the strap, he took one good snack with the palm of his hand, that must have stung like a hot flame for it provoked such sobs and such moans the likes of which I had never heard before.

Then Mr. Beatham turned the girl around and helped her to her feet. "Now go upstairs,' he ordered her "and have your mother apply some ungents to your seat which I hope is sore enough to teach you a necessary lesson.

"Yes, yes, daddy,'' she choked out in reply, "and thank you, thank you for the lesson, '' she added as she made a hasty exit from the room of correction.

Mr. Beathom then turned to me and smiling asked me a question in a voice that greatly surprised me. For in it, I seemed to detect a note of curious pleasure mixed with a measure of triumph. "Now Mr. Bently has your curiosity been satisfied? What are your opinions on the `going ons" at the Beathams?''

"Well," I stammered, rather taken back by the suddoness of his queries, "I suppose you might say that my curiosity has been satisfied---to a degree that is.''

"Uh-huh, " he replied rather strangly I thought, "that's very good. Now since you want to be of some assistance, perhaps we can arrange for that too, '' he added mysteriously. He waited a moment and then continued..."Come let us sit in the corner and perhaps I can oxpound my philosophy on the nature and purpose of corporal punishment as a deterent against crime, its effectiveness as a correction measure, and sundry other reasons from which society benefits."

With that he led me over to a dimly lit corner of the room and there as we sat, he rather fascinatingly related his beliefs, his reasons for them, and to my surprise very convincing arguments that made me step and think and mull them over in my mind. Finally, he went so far as to suggest an experiment, with me as the guinea pig.

"Come hero Margery," he said to one of the high heeled beauties who sat on one of the stools with her wrists tightly bound, looking sad and forlorn. The sound of his voice was like that of a master commanding a slave to obeisance.

The girl trembled as she rose from the stool and came over to us. I noticed her wide brown eyes now wet with tears as they looked upon us, and I heard an involuntary sob emerge from her lips. Futhermore, I could not help noticing that the seat of her black satin panties were ripped in such a way as to form the, letter X in several places.

"This is my ether daugther, Mr. Bentley;' Mr. Beatham said, nodding,, to me, with faint traces of a cruel smile on his lips. "Margery here, he continued, ''has also been a very naughty girl, she stayed out an hour past her bed time last night, against Mrs. Beathan's and my wishes, and she is fully aware of the consequences for her disobedience."

Again he turned to me with that sly, cruel smile on his lips, " Mr. Bently," he said ''I am going to confer upon you the great honor of having you chastise my daugther, to teach her the importance of obediance to her parents and I want the lesson to be driven home soundly."

Before I could recover from my surprise, or voice a protest, he roughly grabbed my arm, them wrist and as soon as my head cleared I realized that what I now held in my hand was the powerful leather strap

I was completely taken back, but I was not too sure that I'd be able to refuse his request. Rather his command! And I could see that this was no man to trifle with. Also for some reason or another , I began to see the logic of his argument that the girl had been naughty and deserved punishment.

At any rate I quickly collected my wits and before I could allow another part of my nature, that is either my conscience or my sound judgement to intercede or disuade me, I grabbed the girl roughly by her hair, dragged her over to the further corner of the room and fastened her tied hands to the ring attached to the ceiling I was in a terrible state of agitation by now, and in a tone of voice as rough as Mr. Beathami's, I bade him to fetch me some rope. He quickly got me some and I proceeded to tie the girl's ankles as tightly as I knew how. Then breathing heavily as I was, I took off my jacket and rolled up my sleeves. Then with a couple of experimental strokes I smote the air with the blistering strap and it sang a cruel song.

Then I turned to the helpless girl pinnioned to the wall. I gazed down at the X marked seat of her panties and took aim.

"Smack!" rang out the sound of leather as it reached its target. "Smack, smack..,smack,'' the song continued. "Please, I'll be obedient, I'll be good!" came the anguished cries of the girl, but to no avail, I would see this through to the bitter, burning end.

"Smack, . .smack, until at last arm weary, I stopped and the strap like wicked serpent that had exhausted itself, dropped from my hand and lay limp on the floor.

The wailings and the anguished cries continued for a while, but as soon my breathing returned to normal, I went over to the girl and untied her,

I then recommended a certain salve that she was to apply to her stinging seat, if she wanted to be able to sit down before long. After the girl left, I turned to Mr. Beatham, who was all smiles by this time. "Well done, '' he beamed on me "well done indeed."

I reached over and got my jacket from the chair, got into it and. then put on my hat and overcoat.

"Well, Mr. Beatham, " I said turning to him with a nod and a note in my voice I could no longer conceal "Its been quite an experience I've had tonight, something that I'll long remember. It will be very hard to explane to myself the reasons for what I should judge was abominable behaviour on my part.''

"Not at all, not at all, he explaned, "on the contrary, though Margery may not be able to sit properly for a while yet, never the less yours was an exemplary lesson in the ways of learning obedience, and in a manner of a curt dismissal, he added, "you must come back another time, Mr. Bently."

"M-m-m," I thought as I rapidly ascended the stairway, brushly walked through the hall, opened the front door and just as rapidly shut it behind me.

Part II

That night I lay awake, tossing in bed, unable to explain my restlessness. Sleep it was impossible. I just wasn't tired. My mind kept dwelling on that scene in Beatham's discipline room. I was beginning to understand the obvious pleasure Mr. Beathan derived from the stiff application of the leather strap to the tender flesh of his maturing daughters.

I began to feel a great resentment for I had come to realize that the flagellation of women satisfied me beyond any bounds of reason. But this afternoon I had acted with reserve, puritaniccly depriving myself of the joy of the lash and now I was suffering the dissapointment, the lack of satisfaction in short frustraton.

Before morning had broken, I lept out of bed and dressed rapidly. I took the short cut back to the Beatham mansion at a trot. Out of breath, I knocked hard on the door and waited for Mr. Beatham to answer.

"What are you doing here now? Why are you waking; us up so early?

My reply was a mixture of stumbling and stutering, but I could see that Mr. Beatham understood me; only too well and he invited me in for the second time.

"So Mr. Bently, you have come around to my way of thinking. And so suddenly. Why it was only late yesterday that you had the opportunity to see and practice corporal punishment, and as I remember it, you were still opposed to it after the last strock had fallen upon Margery's sorely smitten buttocks. Them is no reason you should not continue your training under my roof. I am as good a master as any. Right after breakfast we shall go back down to the collar and listen to the sound of the flying , flaying leather.

After breakfast, which was ample and delicious and served by Mr. Beathams daughters, dressed in maid's outfits of the most daring French design, we went down to the cellar.

"Which of my daughters would you like to punish this morning Mr. Bently?"

"That is entirly up to you sir, I said with a knowing grin."

"Quite so he replied, " but I think that there will be a change of program. Since you came here for reasons tottaly alian to my philosophy and for completely immoral reasons as you have already mentioned, you shall taste the bite of leather yourself."

Before I could protest, Mr. Beatham had a tight grip on my arm and was pulling me to a table. He called the two girls who had been strapped the day before and ordered them each to tie one foot to a foot of the table. He himself tied my arms to rings that were at the other end of the stout table. I was now bent over in a position which exposed by backside: and drew the slain quite tight in that same place.

To my great humilliation one of the girls loosened my pants and allowed them to fall around my ankles. The other girl then pulled down my underpants to my knees.

Leona began flaying my buttocks with the same strap I had used on her sister the day before. Smack. smack...each blow fell with the sharpness of fire, burning deep into my skin and setting me afire. After how many blows I endured, and I did not endure them with gentlemanly courage, but I balled my head off with each new stroke of indignity.

Then Margery took the leather and worked down about my thighs causing me a new and far more painful agony. The flames licked up and down my legs, thrilling sparks flew through me and threatened to cause an explosion of lava.

I was surprised at the effect of the strap, and the girls no loss so, however they laughed, and humilliation deepened and shame, great cleansing shame filled my soul.

Then Leona took over and worked on the old area of inflamation until the entire buttocks was one mess of firey red abused flesh.

I can hardly remember what happened after that but each girl took turns many times. I was on the table without respite for the entire day. And I discovered the source of my frustration-for now I had been satisfied and many times over. And I knew that for the rest of my days I would stand victim to women swinging leather at my helpless body and delight, yes revel and clime to the heights of masocism from the very depths of my awful subjugation. And on and on the whip fell and my spasms of agony left me completely happy.

THE END