Odyssey of Bondage
© Copyright by Cupideros, April 15, 2012  4:46 PM


SHORT DESCRIPTION:
Bret Price plagued by guilt from torturing a Sunni Iraqi prisoner decides to go on a bondage odyssey to see if he can take the pain he dished out during the Iraq war.


EYE CATCHING BLURB:
"Who says I'm bothered by my defeated enemy's dying breath."
"That--is what this is all about.  He died." Mistress Sunshine said with discovery.
"Yeah.  He did!"
Mistress Sunshine stepped back and held a black remote in her hand.  She walked over toward Bret.  "Bret meet Elena."  Mistress Sunshine pressed a few buttons.  "Come Elena, I finally have someone worthy of your charms and power."



Odyssey of Bondage
© Copyright by Cupideros, April 15, 2012  4:46 PM
4,861 words


Bret "Rivet" Price left Iraq a decorated service man.  His metals for valor, exemplary duty beyond the call numbered so many he was a legend to his marine platoon and the army.  Bret feared no one and went everywhere.  He returned to Iraq fourteen times before calling it quit for lack of competition from the enemy. 

However, Bret had trouble adjusting to civilian life.  He'd often go into war mode when a car backed up or a steel crane dropped from the local skyscraper project near his home.  He thought about going in to the Veterans Administration for counseling or posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD), but how could a war hero enter such a thing.  He'd be humiliated.  So Bret's unconventional cure including going to BDSM establishment all throughout Colorado.  He dressed in his black double O-ring harness on his bare tanned skin, scandalous open bottom black briefs under his grey camouflaged pants, army boots and a long black trench coat.

Even though these Mistresses and Masters of BSDM provided him with a safe word, Bret refused to say it.  He went on taking his whipping until the Master or Mistress tired out.  He went on until Mistress after Mistress, Master after Master refused to whip him in the city of Denver.  Then he branched out into another city.  Again, he met one Mistress after another.  Besting them.  Outlasting them.  Finally, Bret took on every Mistress nice or mean in the entire state, city by city.  Until finally, Bret knew of no one who could whip him into submission.  And no one wanted to try to whip him into submission. 
"Bret Rivet Price is a maniac,” They said.
"He won't use the safe word," Others complained.
"I'm not going to be responsible for his death," said another at the local Colorado Fetish Party held every February 20th in the snowcapped mountains next to a famous ski lodge.

Bret used his pension traveling about until finally Mistress Sunshine Miranda popped the million-dollar question.  Miranda wore a sleek leather corselet dress with garters and black stocking, G-string panties and black lace up buckle knee boots when they first met.  "Rivet tell me how you came to this odyssey of bondage."
In his gruff voice, Bret said, "I was torturing this Sunni Muslin, water boarding shit, and one time he comes up for air and said, "You're so tough," he spits out to me.  "You can give out torture, but I bet you can't take it."
"That's it?" Sunshine Miranda said.
"Yes," Bret Rivet Price said.  "So I've been traveling around to see if I can take it.  Punishment."  Bret sat down on her nice sofa in her upstairs office.
"Come, let us go down stairs, Bret," Sunshine Miranda said.
"Nah.  I can see your arms, Sunshine," he shook his head negatively.  "You've got the speed perhaps, and the beauty to entice me, but there is no arm strength in your biceps.
Sunshine coldly stared at him.  "Who said I was going to punish you?  Come." 

As they descended the dark stairs, lit by hanging randomly placed uncovered light bulbs, Sunshine and Bret moved into the depths of the apartment building she now owned, courtesy of her past famous BDSM clientele.  "See Bret, I know my arm strength isn't what you males want, strong enough to make you submit.  And I admit even with my a-mazing knowledge of human nature and submission technique, a man sometimes is too strong for me."  She pushed open a small black door at the bottom of the narrow steps. 
"I can see if I don't cooperate, I'm not going to get a chance to run free."
"This use to be a secret place during prohibition."  Sunshine laughed.  "Capone and the boys came out here.  I also like this place because it's sound proof."
Sunshine opened the door wider, and waved for Bret to come inside. 
"See, nice open spaces in here, Rivet."  She pointed to all her instruments on the walls.  "Got enough light for you, too, down here.  There is a full bathroom if you need to change out of that trench coat."
Bret moved over to a wooden bench and unbuckled his trench coat.  "Ta Da! I'm ready when you are Mistress Sunshine Miranda," he sneered.
"Oh I won't be the one spanking you Bret."
Bret's muscles flexed under his double-O ring harness.  One O-ring isolated his protruding strong pectoral muscles.  The other focused O-ring around his solar plexus.  "Then who will?"
"You're full of drama, Rivet."  Mistress Sunshine sauntered over to a tall closet and looked inside at her creation.  "I used to be in IT before I came out here to Colorado, Bret.  I'm really quite good at AI."
"Artificial Intelligence."
"Yes.  You know about that I suppose.  You use robots during the war right."
"Wimps used them," Bret voice boomed sarcasms.  "I went out and shot every one of the enemy, saved every girl and member of platoon using my flesh and blood, bones and skin."  He paused.  "I . . . . didn't  . . . need any computerized help."
Mistress Sunshine smiled.  She stared again at her creation that Bret could not see from his vantage point on the bench."
"Well, Mr. Bret 'Rivet' Price let me introduce you to Elena."
"Elena." He sighed and looked down at his combat boots disappointed.  He clasped hands in the open space between his muscular naked legs.
"Oh, I think Elena may not impress you with her beauty.  Although, Elena is quite the silver beauty to me.  But she does have the power you seek."
"Oh yeah!" he breathed still looking down into his hands. 
"I don't think that Iraqi's taunts are going to bother you any more after tonight.

"Who says I'm bothered by my defeated enemy's dying breath."
"That--is what this is all about.  He died." Mistress Sunshine said with discovery.
"Yeah.  He did!"
Mistress Sunshine stepped back and held a black remote in her hand.  She walked over toward Bret.  "Bret meet Elena."  Mistress Sunshine pressed a few buttons.  "Come Elena, I finally have someone worthy of your charms and power."

The mechanical sound whizzed and gave a soft almost smooth whine and the silver-body buxom woman computer robot stepped out of the closet.  She was silver all over and had huge boobs and tits that were at least a half-inch thick.  Her height topped 6' 11".  "She weighs one ton, Bret." Mistress Sunshine said with pride.
"You need to work for the military."
"Oh no.  I 'm a lover not a fighter, Bret."
"That's a fighter, if she can do what she looks like she can."  Bret stood up and measured himself against her.

Elena's biceps matched Bret's.  Her height topped his 5’ 9 inches.  Her weight totally outmatched his.  She looked and walked in a steady, comfortable gait.
"She walks like a real woman."
"She is a real woman, Bret."
"I'll say."
"Look at them thunder thighs."
"Her thighs match her upper body.  She has slender thighs when you look at her properly."
"You modeled her after a woman weight lifter."
"No she's model after Seven of Nine on Star Trek: The Next Generation."
"Ah.  I knew I saw that silver clothing somewhere."
"She has a battery life of 72 hours of continuous whipping.  Elena can whip at a faster rate than any human dreams.  Faster than the revolution of a tire going down Route 66 on a slow day, no traffic.  She understands 100,000 words and can read and match the emotional states of man with her world-wide database of faces."
"She'd know if I was in trouble.  Uhm," scoffed Bret. 

Elena stood before him now.  Mistress Sunshine placed one of her large whips in her hand.
"Never seen a whip that heavy, Mistress Sunshine," Bret said slowly.
"Try to take it away from her, Bret."
Bret cracked his knuckles together and smirked.  "First I'll--" then he tried to snatch the large black whip away.
Mistress Sunshine laughed.  "Elena's is well aware of sneaky military tactics whether they are psychological, emotional, physical and mental."
Bret struggled with the large metallic woman.  Her beautiful expression and high-silver cheekbones change from no expression straight lips to a slight knowing smile.  Her black eyes seemed to glow with delight in the new challenge.  Her muscles flexed under their latex skin covering.  "Let go please, Bret.  Before you get hurt."
Bret stopped in his tracks. "What the Fuck?"

"I told you she knew 100,000 words."  Mistress Sunshine sat down on the wooden bench, leaned back on the wall, and crossed her slender sexy legs.  "Did I tell you, Elena knows every language on earth?"
"No you didn't."
"What do you think?"
"She might be worth a go-around."
"I take my payments up front," Mistress Sunshine paused, "For Elena's sake.  I have to keep her in top running condition."
"How often does she get to uhm  work out?
"Not often as you must know.  But now that you are here that's going to change, right?"
"Yes."  Bret reached into his trench coat pocket and pulled out two thousand dollars.  "Is that enough?"
"Barely.  You want to go for how long, Rivet."
"Seventy-two hours."
"That'll cost you five thousand more."
"I don't have anything else but a credit card."
"Wonderful."  Mistress Sunshine went into the second half of her closet and pulled out a credit card machine on a tiny table.  She took Bret's card, and walked over to the closet and ran his card through.  She waited.  "Processing."
Bret scoffed, "It'll clear.  The government never goes out of business."
"Depends on what government, Bret,"
"Right."  Bret kept eye and measuring Elena.  He walked around her.  He touched her back. 
"Please do not touch me unless I require it, Bret Rivet."
"When do you require it, Elena?"
"When I want you to satisfy me?"

Bret turned quickly to Mistress Sunshine pushing the credit card machine back into the closet.  "She can have sex."  Bret looked down around her crotch.
"Elena's fully functional in several ways.  She can fuck you with her soft cunt, or mouth or even her tight silver bum hole."
"No shit."
"I have no shit in my asshole, Idiot." Elena said coldly.
Mistress Sunshine laughed a loud peal of laughter.  "Bret you're looking at the future of BDSM."
"I read long time ago, in London, back in the 1800s a Madam made a machine that could whip twenty five people at one time."
"She retired rich, that Madam."  Mistress Sunshine returned his credit card, "But as you can see that was mere child's play, Bret.  This is for real."
"Is he ready for me to train him, Mistress Sunshine?"
"Just a second, Elena, my assistant." 

Mistress Sunshine looked at Bret.  "These are the rules the safe word is--"
"I never use a safe word, Bret said loudly."
"A safe word is required, Bret Rivet," said Elena.
"I'll handle this, Elena."  "Bret the safe word is 'Iraq'.  That's a short word.  I believe in very short safe words, especially with Elena.  Elena isn't the kind of girl you want to be struggling with your safe word on.  Her blows can break a rib or extremity bone in two in a minute or so.  So if you are in any trouble.  I want you to use the safe word, Bret."
"You going somewhere, Ms. Sunshine?"
"Bret, don't get smart with me.  Elena here can break your neck, if I just give the word."
"I can--"
Elena reached out and grabbed Bret's neck before he could flex a muscle.  "You cannot harm, my Mistress before I could kill you, Mr. Bret Rivet Price."
Mistress Sunshine Miranda smiled wickedly.  "It pays to have equality in the strength department, you must admit Bret."
"Yes."  He drawled his words out. 
Mistress Sunshine walked in between Bret and Elena.  "One more thing.  I have a safe word of my own.  Neither Elena nor I will reveal it to you.  I also have a word to let's say make her fully functional in AI mode.  She will make her own decisions, using parameters at her own discretion."
"Sort of like full war mode."
"Yes.  You might call it that."  Mistress Sunshine paused.  "I don't normally use that word.  I have no use for it.  Elena is a good girl."
"I am a good girl, Mistress Sunshine."
Mistress Sunshine smiled widely.  "Shall we begin, Bret?"
"Why not?"
Mistress Sunshine placed two fur-lined cuffs around his wrists and ankles. 

Elena then took the initiative, "Please stand over by the X cross, Mr. Price."
"Please call me, Bret."
"Please stand over by the X cross, Bret," Elena said in her soft computerized voice.

Bret sauntered over the wooden X cross.  The huge cross was taller than he was.  Elena had no trouble in lowering the metal hooks on to the soft lined cuffs.  Soon Elena had his hands and feet secured to the wooden X frame.
"We shall begin, Bret."
"By all means."

Bret's back muscles flex under the double O-ring black harness.  Mistress Sunshine could tell he still lifted weights since retiring from the Marine Core.  His bum looked rather delicious and Mistress Sunshine remarked to Elena, once Bret was tied down, “Doesn't he look like a good piece of male meat."
"He is a good fuck.  I'll bet, Mistress Sunshine.”
"Are we going to start the contest or just talk about my hot male ass?"
"Women are entitled to talk about male's ass and genitals if they want," Elena explained. 
"Oh Geez."  He paused.  Can she at least say that in French of something, Mistress Sunshine?
Elena rattled off the same line in French, Swedish and Japanese.

"Great."  Bret didn't know how to respond.  He tested the strength of the X cross frame.
"It is bolted to the floor, Bret," Elena said.
"Yes, Bret, Elena's knows everything about this dungeon.  How to get out if necessary, too."

Bret began to get concerned. 
The first blow didn't catch Bret off guard.  He had about six minutes to prepare for it.  But the second blow did.  Each blow landed in a different spot and Elena mapped out each piece of his bare unmarked flesh.  She measured her blows so that different parts of the whip landed in the empty marked zones.  Sometimes the tip, sometimes the back end of the whip.  Other times the forearm of the whip crashed down on Bret's muscles.  He jumped a few times and thought he found her rhythm when suddenly Elena switched hands.

"You didn't tell me she was a southpaw!"
Mistress Sunshine sat walked around off to the side and watched Bret from afar.  She loved to give Elena the general spatial expression she was alone with her slave.  Mistress refused to allow her own needs to enjoy the show to hinder Elena's AI learning.  And this was the only way Elena could learn.  To work as if, she were alone in the room unfettered by her Mistress' instructions or possible commands.

Soon Bret got use to Mistress Sunshine's silence.  She did not respond to his taunts, bluffs, or bravado posturing when the blows landed so heavy he began to bleed here and there.  The blood spattered on the walls and the X cross frame in front of him.  Yet Bret refused to say the safe word. 

Elena for her part measured his heart rate and announced it after each five minutes until Bret tired of her safe mode.  "Can you take Elena off safe mode?  I don't need to know what my heart rate is or my blood pressure count.  I can take anything Elena dishes out."
"You sure, Bret?"
"I'm sure, Mistress Sunshine."
Mistress Sunshine reveled in the thought Bret finally got the beating he deserved and desired.  He stopped doubting Elena could take him to the next level and the next.  He came rather, passively, to the thought Elena knew him and his sadomasochist needs better than himself.  And that is what Bret Price really wanted.

He felt guilty for all the terrible deeds he had done in Iraq.   The killing, destroying, and wiping out whole villages he caused.  Even when he killed those who were not guilty of anything except being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Those born in the wrong century in the wrong country.  Every blow landing on his skin reminded him fate and circumstances shaped our lives.  He survived by some fluke when his buddies, scores of them died.  He survived.  He tortured those who had no strength and training to accept torture.  So now, he wanted to prove to himself that he could take the torture.  His tanned skin rolled in rivets of sweats--in fact, that's where he got the nickname.  Out in Iraq, in the desert, he sweated up a storm.  His face ran as if he was constantly under a shower. 

The pressure on his wrists pulled tremendously on his forearms and upper biceps.  Each blow made his body jump back from the X frame.  His eyes closed and shot open as the computerized blow hit another unmarked spot.  He knew Elena didn't feel his pain and it reminded him he morphed into a trained robot when he finished boot camp.  He no longer saw the enemy, just as Elena probably didn't even see him--even with all her languages and 100,000 words.

This revelation of just what a computerized human being's possible destruction to others and the environment can do made Bret even more determined to resist that dying Iraq's last words.  "You can torture people, but you can't take being tortured yourself."

His legs showed streaks of blood running down into the fur cuffs around his ankles.  Bret could not see it clearly; he saw the results.  Blood rolled down the front of his feet.  He opted to take off his boots.  Mistress Sunshine warned him how accurate Elena's targeting system was. 

Elena had the capacity to toss the whip in such a way as to mark up the front of Bret's proud chest.  One time the tip of the whip hooked into the front of his double O-ring harness.  Elena wisely called on Mistress Sunshine to remove the offending attire. 

"You want to quit, Bret," Mistress Sunshine whispered as she unbuckled the black harness like Elena asked.
"No."  He puffed trying to catch his breath.  His breathing was ragged.  His hands trembling.  "I can take it, Bitch!  I'm a Marine!"
"Suit yourself."  Mistress Sunshine told Elena to continue. 

Elena never broke a sweat.  Her long silver hair stayed in its straight style around her silver face.  Occasionally a strain lay across her eyes and gave her that helpless gesturer females have when they are dancing and hair falls across their eyes.  Elena didn't have to pull the hair back behind her ears.  The magnetic function automatically kicked in and her hair went back beside her ears.  She looked flawless and perfectly composed delivering her deadly blows.

Elena's lights, hidden behind her latex skin covered chassis flashed up and down as she registered everything from the amount of Bret's blood lost, his heart rate and blood pressure to the EKG from his brain all based on a complex combination of the external signs she registered.  She did not let up in the slightest.  She only adjusted the strength, timing, and placement of her blows.  The one thing Bret figured he could count on was seventy-two hours.  If he could last seventy-two hours, he could say he'd won.  He might put behind him all the guilt from the war.  He might let fade from his memory the dying words of a defeated enemy who now put him in this most painful situation.

Soon Bret's entire left side had a crisscrossed mark everywhere.  His body looked like a purposely messed up knitting created by several weaving experts.  Elena even moved closer when she thought Bret might me recovering some strength.  And in those moments, her blows came so hard, that chips of wood flew off the X cross frame to Bret's widening eyes.  They danced like a moth to a flame those two Bret and Elena, Mistress Sunshine thought.  Bret foolish enough to believe he might purge himself through pain when in reality he should have prayed for relief.  Still being a macho character and having won one's reputation on such a thing, he could not now back away from his life or the meaning he gave it. 

Elena, Mistress Sunshine thought, might even feel she's finally found a purpose in life.  Someone who wanted everything she might dish out.  Previously a few people came to Mistress Sunshine and after a few blows, after the realization of the speed and power and lack of tiring, they came to their senses and admitted defeat.  Those people were not obsessed by a man's dying words.  They came here out of sensation-driven need to feel some pain based on their own limits.  In no time, they used their safe word.  Mistress Sunshine was always ready quickly to jump in, if there was any delay in Elena's blow after they cried out their safe word.

Bret didn't care about himself, Mistress Sunshine realized.  Still he did pay $7,000 for his experience.  And a whipping properly administered might lead to spiritual revelation and the purging Bret Rivet Price needed.  This thought kept Mistress Sunshine an observer watching the spectacle of Man verses Machine. 

Bret began to whimper.  Then Bret began to cry.  Elena registered this emotion.  "First slave to cry under the whip," and she recorded the date and time for her database.  She had measured Bret's height and weight, noted everything even his boot and hand size.  She said at one point, "Subject Slave Bret Price has exceeded the limits of known human slaves tested."  That didn't halt her from stopping her eclectic mix of blows she delivered to his beaten body. 

After all Bret knew the safe word.  Elena waited for the safe word.  In her full AI mode, she could not turn off.  Then her Mistress would surely be cheated of the victory they both wanted.  He must say it Elena's said to herself.  She listened hard for it.  She deciphered and replayed every grunt, boast, taunt, scream, yell expelled from Bret Price's mouth.  "No safe word spoken yet, Mistress Sunshine.  I continue."

Mistress Sunshine sat in her corselet dress with garters and played with the garters.  She at one point filed her nails.  At another point, she picked up a copy of Bondage Today and read the entire magazine while listening to wind like thunder of the large whip lashing Bret's body into mush.  His whole body quivered and trembled.  His head shook like he was under duress of being water tortured.  His hands clinched together.  He shook as if he was trying to break the secure metal bonds of the loops binding the fur-lined cuffs. 

What did he hoped to accomplish Mistress Sunshine realized after some six hours under Elena's expert and relentless blows of passion.  Elena seemed positively to take on a lively form.  Her body moved fluidly from left to right as she placed the blows.  At one point, Mistress Sunshine realized Elena might be getting some gratification from the whipping she gave Bret.  He did after all rise past her previous recorded slave endurance.  He did by pass her time expectations of three hours and seven minutes.  Might she then, see herself as taking Bret to the spiritual awareness whipped persons claimed occurred to them in previously recorded histories?  Several religions used flagellation as a means to transportation into that other world the real world of angels, Goddesses and Gods.  That place where the real decisions of life and death are made.  Not down here where decisions are allowed or accepted after various better alternatives have been discarded.

Might Bret be in the clouds, as some whipped slave reported under her own flagellation sessions, Mistress Sunshine thought.  And certainly, Elena knew of those histories.  Mistress Sunshine talked to Elena about those historical experiences people recorded and said.  They discussed the nature of pain and the release it might bring.  Some people moved from receiving punishment under the whip to receiving pleasure from the whips.  Perhaps, Mistress Sunshine thought, Bret may be reveling in pleasure.  In which case, his tortured expressions and jerking at the X cross frames is not one of rebellion, but embracing his own desire.  He might be past the purging of guilt.  Now he might be into the ecstasy of passion reflection. 

She looked up and realized Bret's head dipped downward for a minute trying to roll with the blows.  Then the next minute he held his head high, his eyes wide open as if he saw his next reincarnated life.  What was she to do about such a person under the whip so long?   He wanted to do seventy-two hours and to prove what.  I am not recording this session, Mistress Sunshine said to herself becoming annoyed.

She put the Bondage Today magazine down.  She walked over to Bret and yanked his head up.  He opened his eyes wide and said, "I see the light.  I see the light.  There's another world out there!"
"Bret."  Mistress Sunshine said, calmly as she felt the blows falling away from her all on his right side.  "You don't have to prove anything to me.  You don't have to prove anything to anyone.  If you see the light, I'd say you are purged of guilt."
"I did what I had to do.  They made me do it!  They turned me into a robot.  I was a job.  A job that needed to be done."  He looked up into the basement ceiling.
Mistress Sunshine said, "Bret!  Bret!  Do you remember the safe word?"
"I won't say it, Bitch!  You want to prevent me from my ecstasy flight into the clouds.  My arms are like wings.  I am flying..."
Mistress Sunshine stepped back out of the way.  Elena returned to covering the other half of his body.  In fact, she wasn't even working on his backside Mistress Sunshine realized.  All these blows were to mark up every available spot on his front side!  How brilliant the computer couldn't even see his front, and yet true enough--she marked nearly every spot! 

Astonished, Mistress Sunshine paused wondering what to do about this new discovery.  She didn't think anyone could do that.  How brilliant!  How positively masterful.  Elena her assistant did something, her Mistress could not do. 

The determined face on Elena also brought about a revelation in Mistress Sunshine’s eyes.  Those two would go on until Bret died.  She had to put a stop to it.  She walked toward Elena about to say her own safe word, when a sudden crash was heard as one arm of the X-crossed frame broke and Bret's arm hung limp.  But when she turned away, she didn't realize how close to the line of whip-fire she was.  The heavy whip lashed out at Bret's limp arm but caught Mistress Elena around the neck on the downward stroke, but Elena had already pulled back and snapped Mistress Sunshine’s neck before, Mistress Sunshine uttered a word.  Mistress Sunshine slumped down to the floor.

"Don’t worry, Mistress Sunshine, I will make Bret Rivet Price submit to my desires, just like you taught me.  If he does not say the safe word, I will go on forever.  I can go on and on," Elena said beating down the whip ever faster and cleverer than before.  Soon Bret's arm was snapped off and in his conscious state looking up at the clouds, Bret said, "All of life is good.  All of life is love."
"That is not the safe word," Elena seemed to snarl in her computerized determination to beat him before even eight hours went by. 
"I'll never quit.  Marines never quit, Elena!"
"I'll never stop.  I'll provide you with the training you need. I'll help you."

Soon Bret kept staring up into the clouds, but he was unconscious.  His head was snapped back and from Elena's point of view he was alive staring into the clouds, thinking all of life is good, all of life is love."  Elena continued to slash out at his body.  Soon the X-frame around his right arm broke, mostly from the whip. 

Bret slumped to his knees, from Elena's point of view.  She went on beating and beating Bret.  His back was raw with blows.  Skin pealed, even the bones on his spine began to show.  This went on and on for twenty hours, thirty-hours, forty hours.  Determined Elena reached out, "Say the safe word, Bret before it is too late."

Bret's body was cracked in two by Elena by the seventieth hour and on the seventh-first hour, it seemed like Elena tired and still she reached out to him, to his humanity.  "For your own sake, forget about the heavens, safe your own life.  Say the safe word, Bret."  Then as the seventy-second hour approached Elena finally cried out, still delivering her blows:  "I'll say the safe word for you Bret, Iraq . . . Iraq  . . . Iraq."

--THE END--



















































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