The Watcher, Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I did indeed fall asleep then, and awakened about two hours later. Maria was still lying close beside me, our arms wrapped around one another. She was still sleeping soundly, and I was content to gaze at her lovely face. I could see the traces of my juices that had dried on her cheeks, and was sure that my own face was the same. I was almost overcome with love for her then, and I kissed her forehead lightly.

That awakened her, and she stretched languidly, then smiled and hugged me again. She asked softly, "Did you sleep well?"

I assured her that I had, although given the dreams that I recalled, doubted that I'd rested very much. At my mention of dreams she said, "I'm sure I know the subject. Most women, when told of my favorite toy, are unable to think of little else. Was it that way with you?"

I simply nodded, knowing that she understood the images that constantly flashed through my brain, as she was probably sharing them with me. If ever anything was an obsession with me, it seemed to be watching The Cactus being used on Jeff. I vowed to resist the pull of that fantasy, and limit his modification to "only" the partial castration that had been scheduled for him. Even given the intense excitement and arousal I would undoubtedly experience when watching his cock being impaled on the spines, I knew that when we left this place, he had to have his cock still attached to him.

Maria seemed to accept my resolve then, and changed the subject by suggesting that we again bathe, and then dress for dinner. I followed her to the tub again, and we entered the water. We spent a pleasurable half hour soaping each other, then getting out of the water and drying the other. Even after the amount of time that has passed since that moment, I'm still amazed at how accepting of her attentions I was. As I said before, I've never in my life had lesbian tendencies. However, right then I was enamored of Maria's beautiful body, and felt not a bit ill at ease with our mutual nudity. I'm sure that the strangeness of the setting made it so easily accepted, and have decided to not dwell on it any longer.

We had dinner in the large dining room of the resort, being just another two people in a gathering of about 25 other couples. When I say "couples", I mean just that. I thought it odd that every table had two people sitting there, no more and no less. When I mentioned it to Maria, she said that each guest had been assigned an assistant, as she had been assigned to me. At the tables where two men were seated, it meant that one was undoubtedly the husband or lover, and that his wife or partner would be tortured by the assistant, or the assistant would help with the session. The tables with two women were either other examples of my situation, or a lesbian who had brought her partner here for training or modification.

There were no more than six tables occupied by one man and one woman. Maria told me again that one was an assistant, and that the partner of the other was probably in the preparation room, getting ready for his or her upcoming session. How strange that this very ornate, though ordinary-appearing dining room, could be the scene of so much that would seem strange to the outside world.

Following our meal, we sat on the veranda sipping after-dinner drinks. I was simply astounded by the clearness of the sky, and the sparkling brightness of the stars. Not since my childhood had I lived away from city lights, and I had forgotten just how entrancing the night sky can be.

We sat talking for a long time, and at one point I told Maria that, based on what she had told me that day, she seemed to truly enjoy torturing men, even to the point of destroying their genitals. She smiled languidly and agreed, saying, "Yes. You have the truth of it. I truly do love what I do here. When I have a man in my power, hanging helplessly from the wheel, with his pitiful little cock standing proudly out from his body, I want nothing more than to destroy it in the most painful manner possible. His begging, his fear, his screams of terror, are as food and drink to me, and just as essential. I not only want those things, I need them."

After taking a few moments to absorb that bit of information, I asked, "Do you know why it is you hate them so?"

She hesitated so long to answer that I feared I had crossed some boundary, and was in forbidden territory. At last she began to speak, and the tale she related led me to understand her overwhelming motivation to destroy a man's genitals. I'm sure that very few of my readers are interested in Maria's background, so I'll take only a short time to describe it here.

She told me that when she was eight years old, her two older brothers had begun to molest her sexually. The attacks had gone on for quite some time before she could muster the courage to tell her parents, since the two brothers had threatened her with death if she talked about what they were doing to her. As she related the story to her parents, she could see her father becoming more and more angry. At first she assumed his anger was directed toward his sons, but then he slapped Maria as hard as he could. As she lay on the floor sobbing in pain and bewilderment, he ordered her to never again speak of such things. Maria looked to her mother for comfort, but found none there. Instead Mama stood and left the room, seemingly knowing what was going to happen.

What happened was that Maria's father then removed his clothing, ordered her to get undressed also, and then raped her. From that time on, her life was one of constantly servicing either her brothers or her father. One or the other was in her bed every night, and sometimes all of them together took turns with her. Her mother did nothing to stop it, and seemed to be entirely accepting of it. Because of threats from the three men, Maria never told anyone else.

By the time she had finished her long and painful story, both of us were openly crying. I rushed to her chair and pulled her to her feet, hugging and kissing her. Over and over I told her of my sorrow, trying to ease her pain with my love and concern.

At last she regained her composure, and said, "It's late. We both need to rest for a busy day tomorrow. Do you want me to share your bed tonight?"

I laughed and kissed her again, telling her that I wanted that more than anything else in the world right now. So that's how that night ended. You can use your imagination as to what we did to pass the time.

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We both slept late the next morning, and once again I awakened first, to the sight of Maria sleeping soundly next to me. As before, I spent several minutes just gazing at her lovely face, trying to memorize every detail. I think that my brain knew how very short my time here would be, and it wanted to be able to recall her even when we were separated.

At last she awoke, and I drew her to me. She hugged me briefly, then pulled away, saying, "No more sex for you until later, my love. I want you to be nice and horny for the session. Just let your desire build by thinking of all the nice things I'll be doing to your husband in a few short hours." We laughed at that, and I thought that it would certainly seem "nice" to me, but maybe not so much to Jeff. Then again, he was a willing participant in, if not the instigator of, this evening's events, so he certainly had no grounds for complaint.

I could see the wisdom in her suggestion, and didn't press the issue. I knew that it would be more exciting for me to watch Jeff being tortured if I didn't orgasm for several hours, and resolved to keep my hands off Maria for at least that long.

We again made use of the hot tub, and this time I bathed Maria in turn, loving the feel of my soapy hands running over her body, and in turn loving the feel of her hands on me. She seemed to delight in arousing me as much as possible, then letting my passion cool. I had used that same technique on my husband several times, and knew that it made the eventual orgasm all that much more intense. By the time we were dressed, I had a continuous feeling of unsatisfied arousal, and my pussy was suffused by heat and desire. Tonight's session promised to be a good one for me.

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I had expected the day to pass very slowly, but Maria didn't let that happen. The resort truly was a tourist destination, albeit far from an ordinary one. Following a leisurely breakfast, which was actually more of a brunch, given the lateness of the hour, we strolled the grounds, arm in arm. Maria pointed out to me the various outdoor activities that were available for the guests, and explained how they were used.

If you're expecting me to describe the usual volleyball and tennis courts, or golf courses, forget it. La Casa was dedicated to the training and torture of one's love interest, and that orientation was carried into the outdoors, as well as the indoors. There were several whipping posts scattered about the place, each equipped with cuffs, chains, or ropes an needed. I saw at least three sets of stocks, and where you might expect to see horseshoe pits, there were tiny cages for confining a misbehaving lover.

I saw something that completely dumbfounded me as we walked, and when I asked Maria to confirm my guess, she replied, "Yes. It's a gallows."

What was standing before us was a raised platform with thirteen steps leading up to it. There were two large posts on opposite sides of the platform, and they were supporting a horizontal beam. Hanging from the beam was a rope, the end of which had been tied in a hangman's noose. I could see a lever on one edge of the platform, and after a closer inspection could see that it was rigged to open a trapdoor in the center of the floor, below the noose. All-in-all, it was an excellent recreation of the gallows that were a featured part of many Western movies.

I was impressed by the time and effort that had been put in to building the thing, and said so. Then I asked, "It's not for real use, is it?"

Her enigmatic smile was her only answer for several seconds, and then she replied, "Many of our guests are entranced by the thought of hanging, or being hanged. Those who are so inclined are welcome to use this facility."

I pressed for details by asking, "But has it ever been used for real? Has anyone ever been hanged here?" Again she smiled before answering, finally saying, "Many guests have placed their 'significant other' on the platform, with the noose around his or her neck. Most of them never pull the lever, though. It's all just play-acting."

My brain immediately caught the word "most" that she had used, and I couldn't stop myself from questioning her again. "Are you saying that people have actually, really and truly, been hanged here?" Again all she would do was smile, although she finally did reply, "I can't say, my love. Please don't ask me about that."

I knew that I'd have to be satisfied with that answer, as lacking as it was in satisfying my intense curiosity. As we continued our walk down the path, I looked back several times at the gallows. I somehow couldn't stop myself from picturing Jeff standing on the platform, with the noose around his neck, his arms tied behind his back and his ankles tied together. I was standing at the edge of the platform, my hand on the lever. It was strangely exciting to me to think of that, even though hanging him was not my intention.

Maria seemed to be guiding us on a return path to the main building, even though I could see there was another large area we had not explored. I asked if there was anything interesting there, and she replied, "Nothing that would be of interest to you. It's what we call the 'Picnic Area'. There is a barbecue pit there, and a group of our regular guests likes to meet there and cook meat for their meals. I tried it one time, and it was not to my taste."

That explanation satisfied me, and we continued down the return path.

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By the time we returned to our room, it was siesta time. We lay side-by-side on the bed, talking quietly. I couldn't clear my mind of the image of the gallows, and Maria's intimation that it had actually been used in the past. Finally I said, "Speaking on a 'what if' basis, how could an execution here be carried out, and the participants not get in trouble with the police?"

She again had that sly smile on her face before answering. "I'm sure you've heard the expression, 'money talks', haven't you? In this part of the world, that's probably more true than nearly any other place you can name. What others would call bribes are simply a way of life down here. You already know that a physician is on staff here, and he is fully licensed to sign death certificates. If he were to do such a thing, and indicate the cause of death as 'heart failure', who's to say anything different? A few dollars given to the local authorities would make them quite agreeable, and there would never be an investigation."

That Maria was talking about such a thing in her matter-of-fact manner simply astounded me. When I envisioned all the trouble that would result if such things were done in the States, I was again struck by just how different life was here south of the border.

I don't recall any other thing we said at that time, and am sure that's when I drifted into sleep. My final thought was of the upcoming session, and as I visualized my lover standing before my suspended husband, she was lowering The Cactus toward his raging hard-on. If I dreamed at all then, it was probably related to that subject, but I don't recall doing so.

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Maria awakened me about 5:00 that afternoon, and as I regained consciousness, I could feel her amazingly soft caresses seemingly everywhere on my body. I was lying on my back then, and when her hand reached my crotch, I opened my legs to her. She did no more than just tease me, and as I tried to respond to her attentions, she said, "Not just yet, my love. I just wanted to arouse you a little bit. Remember, the longer you delay your orgasm, the better it'll be."

I knew once again that she was correct, but it was hard to not demand that she make me cum right then. Instead of doing so, I asked her what her plans were for us until the session began. She replied that we should have an early dinner right away, so that we'd both be strong for what was to come later. She said that even though Jeff wouldn't be eating anything at all until the next day, there was certainly no reason for us to experience hunger. I agreed with her, and we both stood to get dressed for the meal.