Trophy Wife Reboot Ch. 02

Three of us sat in the Adjust Room at 9 PM waiting for Mr. Ambrose, holding out our cards. Blue cards were held by #8 and me, while #3 held a red.

The room was like nothing I'd ever seen. Dimly lit and in the center stood a set of stockades, which consisted of two steel plates that had three holes, in which a person's head and both arms could be securely locked into place in a standing position. The height was adjustable.

On one wall, there was an X-frame cross eight feet tall with rings from which manacles dangled, constructed of black painted wood with padding at the intersection of the main members. Next to the cross, resting against the wall were several wooden bars about two feet long, with restraints at each end. An assortment of whips and other flogging instruments of varying sizes hung on the wall, along with what looked like a collection of electric cattle prods.

The three us sat in the room for nearly an hour and couldn't help but look at the instruments. We knew it was likely we would be subjected to the torments of these implements, but struggled to understand how. "They said, they wouldn't punish us," said #3. She had the most to fear, with her red card.

"They said we have to determine our own appropriate punishments," I reminded her. The waiting was the worst; my imagination was starting to torture me.

Mr. Ambrose entered the room and held three leather collars, each with a ring in the front. Two had yellow bands in the center and were given to #8 and me. #3 received a red banded collar.

We remained standing and as directed, removed our tees and panties, fastened the collars around our necks and then click the locks closed, while Mr. Ambrose sat in the only chair in the room.

"Do you know why all of you are here?" asked Mr. Ambrose.

I answered first. "Because I was unfaithful to my husband." The others nodded in agreement.

"No, that is wrong. It is because two of you refused to tell the truth immediately. The other received a red card, because she lied."

We looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry," said #3.

"You may be ashamed of past behavior. All the women here were unfaithful to the men who provided their clothing, shelter, food and a lifestyle few people in the world can begin to imagine. That's up to you to atone for. The choice is yours."

The woman in the red banded collar began to sob quietly.

Mr. Ambrose continued. "It's what you do here that matters, as far as your current offenses."

He looked at the instruments housed in this room. "You shall determine how to appropriately punish yourselves. Too little will result in an upgrade of your levels of admonishment. You yellows may administer your own punishments. Red will have to request your aid for hers."

He went on to explain how various implements worked, but provided no information on what was appropriate. When asked, he replied, "As in life, it is up to you to determine that."

On the wall, I found a small handheld Taser among the larger electric shock sticks. The size of a cell phone, it had two prongs on the top. I pressed the button on the side and a flash of lightening jumped between the electrodes making a crackling sound. Trembling, I held the posts near my hand. With my eyes mostly closed, I pushed the button and felt the pulse hit me. It stung, and I felt a burning sensation. Yet as I looked at my hand, there weren't any marks. Mr. Ambrose had explained that holding the Taser gun to my flesh for a half second would cause pain and muscle spasms, but a longer period would result in loss of muscle control and disorientation.

As the others looked on, I confessed that I'd attempted to withhold information about my infidelity, and I held the stun gun up to my center of right breast. I applied the power, and the electric bolt danced across my nipple. I screamed in pain and fright. It felt like an angry wasp had just stung my sensitive areola. I stumbled, but righted myself. The other two women watched in horror, but there was no damage and the burning sensation faded quickly.

Mr. Ambrose said nothing, but instead scribbled onto his notepad. I moved to my other breast and positioned the electrode near my other nipple before applying the same shock. It hurt; it hurt so fucking bad. I stood and held the Taser to my side. "One for each of the men I cheated with."

"Do you feel this is adequate?" ask Mr. Ambrose.

"It really hurt. More than I thought I could take."

"What is important is, are you satisfied with the level of pain you're endured against the rules you broke? If you are content, then fine."

I looked at his face. It told me nothing. I glanced at the others; they looked terrified. They knew they'd have to endure at least as much. "No. I deserve more."

I moved the Taser toward my vagina and spread my legs apart. I moved the gun a few centimeters from my clitoris and squatted to brace myself from the coming jolt. I drew in a deep breath and touched the button. The crackle sounded like an explosion. The shock struck my genitalia in a blinding wave of pain. I recovered enough to press the switch once more and felt another wasp sting on the most sensitive part of my body. Tears began to roll down my face and a few dripped onto the wooden floor. I gave myself one more blast and dropped the Taser to the floor as my knees began to buckle.

"Please, no more, she's had enough" #8 wailed as tears ran down her cheeks.

"That is up to #5 to determine. Are you satisfied?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Ambrose. I've paid for my transgression."

"Very, well, #5"

I was allowed to recover on the floor.

"#8, you are next. Please select an appropriate sanction."

She continued crying and shaking. I began to worry that she was taking too long and would have to suffer additional punishment.

"Could...could I have #5 apply my punishment. I'm too afraid to do it myself. I'm sorry. I'm scared," she said, sounding like a little girl.

"Are you willing to involve yourself, #5?"

I stood with still wobbly knees, "Yes, sir; I can help her."

"Very good, please proceed."

I held her briefly and whispered to her, "Be brave; it will hurt, but it won't cause injury." That was as much truthful comfort as I could offer.

She stood erect and announced her infractions, "I carried on an affair with a maintenance man for a year. I was lonely..."

"Your reasons are irrelevant. It's only your violation of the rules matter here," Mr. Ambrose said in deadpan tone.

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't tell you that I'd been fucking behind my husband's back."

I had her bend over on the floor with her knees pulled toward her chest. I worried more that she would pass out as a result of my administration of her coming torment. When the electrodes nearly touched her ass, I pressed the switch. It sent an arc of electricity between the posts that found their way to her flesh. She yelped and quivered. I applied a second jolt. I moved the device to her other cheek and gave to two quick sharp thunderbolts.

She shook and cried quietly. I moved her down onto her back, and applied two additional stings to each breast. Her eyes spoke her terror, but also expressed a sign of gratitude. "I couldn't do this myself," she mouthed through the sobs.

"Is this adequate #5?"

I was surprised he was asking me. I guessed that since I was applying the punishment, I had to be the one to decide how much she'd need to suffer. This was worse than doing it to myself. I hated to continue to impose more torment, but if what I had selected was inadequate, she'd have to suffer even more.

"No, sir, Mr. Ambrose. She needs more. Her exclusions were worse than mine."

I moved the Taser between her legs. Her eyes looked at me in horror, but knew what was required. "Close your eyes. I'll have to give you four shocks. You'll get through this."

Her hips arched with each snap of current and she screamed out her pain, just as I had done. I held her as the Taser lay between her legs. Sweat was pouring from her forehead, and she breathed deeply as she fought to regain her senses.

"Was this adequate #5?"

"Yes, sir. She got everything she deserved."

"Very, good. Now, please help her recover. You'll also need to choose the punishment for #3."

"Can she tell us her transgression first, Mr. Ambrose," I asked, turning my attention toward at the now cowering #3.

"If you would #3?"

She moved to the center of the floor. Her eyes darted around the room as if looking for escape. A breakout would be unnecessary; any of us was free to walk out the door. No one would stop us; that was always clear. But, she would be forced to leave the Double R compound, like Fonda, her chances of returning to her old life gone forever and a bleak unknown future awaiting her.

She began to say something, but it was inaudible.

"Speak up. We must proceed. Louder."

"I lied, I fucking lied. I had one affair, and I said I'd never cheated on my husband," she yelled. "I denied it even after you told the man's name."

"A lie is a very serious offense here, #3. One of the worst violations of the rules. It is up to #5 and #8 to determine your restitution."

I looked at #8. She was still trembling from my torments. I wanted to ask if the Taser would be enough, but knew I'd only be asked if I thought it was adequate. I guessed it wouldn't be. I looked at the other shock sticks hanging on the wall. They were larger, and I assumed would cause more pain. I didn't think they would do enough punishment either.

My stomach began to churn when I looked over the collection of whips and floggers. BDSM was a subject I knew nothing about. I'd always thought it was mostly made up, but surrounding us was an enormous variety of apparatuses for such a practice. I immediately rejected the whips, they looked like they'd cause damage and lasting scars. The floggers and paddles looked less vicious. I had a choice of a basic one with one or two-foot leather lashes. I wondered if they'd be impressive enough.

There were other lashes made of animal hair. I thought that by themselves, they won't be too painful, but dipped in water could wreak severe injury.

My hand trembled when I took a knotted flogger from its hook. Its two-foot long lashes were tied in tiny loops at the end of each leather strand. I hoped it would be enough without disfiguring #3 for the rest of her life.

I handed #8 a wide leather paddle, and she reluctantly took it from my hand. We placed our arms around #3 and led her to the crux, fastening her arms and legs with the attached manacles. The ring in the front of her collar was hooked to a chain that dangled from the ceiling. "It's going to be OK, we won't do anything more than we have to. Just be brave," I said, attempting to calm her nerves.

She said nothing, and her face seemed vacant and distant. "Think of other places," #3 advised. We were so unqualified to give this poor woman advice.

With her eyes closed #8 threw the first blow with a leather strap across the cheeks of #3's buttocks. It made a clap sound and left a slight red mark. She continued to strike, but it was obvious the blows weren't causing enough pain.

We were surprised when #3 said in a low voice, "Please, you have to hit me harder. I can't be thrown out of here. Hit me, you two bitches."

Again #8 slapped the paddle on our victim's posterior. This time the clap was more pronounced. The marks were a brighter shade of red and #3 winced. I flung the lash across her back. It left a series of stripes across her back and small red rings indicating where the knots had landed against her flesh. She screamed and began to weep.

Another paddle blow hit her, this time with a pronounced slap and she screamed again.

I tried to temper my assault with the flogger, but it was difficult for me to gauge the coming sting of the lashes. We continued our assault for three more hits. Her entire backside was now inflamed, and welt marks began to rise.

We stopped, as #3 emitted a pitiful gurgling sound. "I can't take anything more. Please stop."

Both #8 and I turned to looking at Mr. Ambrose.

"Sir, that's enough."

"Are you satisfied?"

I began to answer, but Mr. Ambrose held up a hand and said, "Consider your answer very carefully #5."

Shit. We'd have to give her more, and I could tell she was done. It was that or see her sitting in the sun for hours waiting to go to nowhere. I tightened my grip on the lash and began to prepare myself mentally for what was to come.

"No. No, sir, Mr. Ambrose," said #8. "She's beaten. I'll...I'll take her place. Please, sir, I can't do this to her anymore."

The room went silent for over a minute, as if time was standing still.

"Very well. Bend down to receive two strikes of the flogger across your buttocks and that will be satisfactory."

She crouched down and the floor and readied herself for the impact. I applied the flogger twice and left a series of narrow welts against her heart-shaped ass. She cried out both times as her teeth bit into her lower lip, but withstood the obvious pain.

We unhitched #3 from the cross and were about to help her back to her cell, when Mr. Ambrose said, "Please stay behind #5, I wish to speak with you."