I ran over the details in my head, how I ended up here. It was, by far, the most compromising position I had been in since Sue Kennings played the "I'll show you mine if you show me yours" game in the fifth grade. While innocent and enjoyable, Sue failed to recognize the hazzards that can come from explaining to your older brothers that some boy at school showed you his "willie".
It was, by far, the finest beating I ever took.
I wouldn't even be thinking of Suzie, were it not for the similarities between then and now. Oh, there are differences, it's four cheerleaders and not four older brothers... but just like then, I'm hanging upside down naked from the waist... er... up, I guess.
Oh, and I didn't have "Goodcock" in permanent marker written on my penis. That's a new one. I don't think I'll be able to explain that one away.
They watched me in silence, surely contemplating their next move. Well, have at thee, bitches! You'll not get the best of me, today! I am beyond embarrassment at this point, and I can wait all night.
Paula eyed me up and down, holding the cat-o-nine-tails lookin' thingy. I took my time running over the series of events that led up to this bizarre moment.
. . .. ... .....
I remember Paula being mad. My girlfriend, the "love o' my life", the horrible she-bitch that considered it her goal in life to deprive me of the one thing two consenting adults should be engaging in as frequently as possible... simple gettin' freaky-freaky.
Sex.
She'd flipped out on me the night before, given that she had woken up naked after falling off of my roof--long story, no time to go over that now. After verbally abusing me, and an embarrassing moment when she'd tried to hit me with an alarm clock (which landed right where she'd intended, laying me out on the floor cold), I gather that she left and got her friends to come back at some point in the night to abscond with my unconscious body.
One day, when retelling this story, I'll leave out the part about being knocked out by an alarm clock thrown by my girlfriend. I'll blame it on... oh, a biker or something. A big guy with tattoos named "Bubba" who thumped me with a baseball bat or something.
When I came to, I was in a barn.
At least, I think it's a barn. As there are bales of hay and a pitchfork and the place looks wooden. I could be in a garage for all I know. The lights from the ceiling make it hard to make out what I'm tied to, but I think the chain fastened around my legs and leading up through the lights is on a winch of some kind.
