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Whipped	By : This_is_The_Phantom_Lady Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 3753 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: This contains major triggers for people with issues with self-harm. I do not own or profit on any official BBC Sherlock characters or any other part of BBC Sherlock.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
I walked mechanically towards the window and watched the world out there. My shoulder cramped and I stretched in a vain attempt to soothe it.
I knew there was nothing I could do to help it… I just had to accept the pain. It was knots under the shoulder blades forming because of my mild scoliosis that pulled on my tendons and muscles in a wrong direction… I had been informed there was nothing that could be done. No skilled physiotherapist or massage therapist would be able to remove them.
I simply had to accept the circumstance.
I was watching life pass me by on the street outside. A less fortunate woman was rubbing her hands together as she staggered towards some ungodly destination. I could feel the cold burn in my fingers myself… just a few days that woman was me. Maybe she was me?
Maybe I was having hallucinations… maybe this was some twisted dream caused by hunger or the putrid stuff in the disinfectant Macy gracefully had given me a sip of.
I caught a glimpse of the woman’s pale and hollow face. No, she was a stranger… I was still here…
I let my hands run down the soft material of the lush dress; sensation returning to my fingers as if they were actually warming up.
I stood still; observing the street trying to ignore the persistent throbbing cramps; allowing myself to disappear. I was merely a spectator. I detached my mind from my body…
Something I had years of practice in.
The hours passed before I knew it and the sound of the door dragged me triumphantly back to life.
I rubbed my shoulder and turned to face her bravely.
In front of me stood a tall, strong woman. Her hands were placed high on her hips; her long legs accentuated and dangerously visible through the almost see-through black robe.
She looked like an amazon warrior. My mouth watered inexplicitly. I couldn’t blame her clients…
“Come” it was an unimpressed tone she met me with.

…

She took me to a room in the attic. There were several screens; all showing several angles of each room in the house. In the middle was placed a red leather couch and a round table filled with drinks and snacks.
“Help yourself; though I’d advise you not to touch the alcohol. It’s important for us to keep a clear head. Alcohol and the things we do don’t mix” she ran her thumb over one of the worst bruises on my arm. I understood the hint and I nodded.
And away she was. Locking the door behind her.
I sat carefully on the couch; my eyes scanning the screens dutifully. I had a job to do.
I cringed seeing the bathroom and ‘my room’. Privacy was apparently not an accepted concept in this house.
Finally I found what I was actually looking for.
In a room full of strange ‘furniture’… if you could call lacquered wooden crosses, beds, posts and metal tables furniture… there stood a business man in a neat suit. He was wringing his hands; looking around the room nervously.
He practically fell to his knees and I realized this was his reaction to Miss A. entering the room.
She was walking with so much confidence it sent shivers down my spine. Her riding crop attached to her arm and I bit into my tongue.
She was running it over his face lovingly; seemingly asking him a question and he replied. She stopped her circling and he rose to his feet and removed his clothes and walked over to the cross and calmly let her shackle him to the thing.
There was no sound but I could hear the riding crop sing as it cut through the air and hit him. I felt it on my own skin and let out a gasp. I leaned forward and watched her playfully ponder over an array of things I couldn’t quite see what was and had no idea what most of it was…
She picked her item of choice and strapped it around his groin; I realised she was strapping him into a male chastity belt before she swatted him a several more times with the crop.
I saw how his body was writhing and realized that was not a man who wanted to get away… he was enjoying it. He was high on the sensation.
And I felt a pang of jealousy… I wanted to experience that too. I wanted to learn. I wanted to feel as strong as she had said I was.
I was mindlessly picking at the bandage around my arm protecting my last cut; my eyes clued to the screen as she finished the session.
As she released him it was a calm man who stood there and when she took her leave I watched curiously as he got dressed; finding himself and stood there with a straight back and broad shoulders… at ease.
My eyes found the room Miss A. had retreated to; one of the bathrooms in the house and I felt like prying. But she knew I was watching…
She was washing her hands and getting ready for her next client. She came back to the room and dried off the cross; tidying up the place.
She went to her bedroom and changed her shoes; strapping herself into a pair of black lacquered knee-high boots with a killer stiletto heel.
In the strange room her next client stepped in. Another suit. He was already undressing as soon as he entered and waited patiently for her.
Not long after Miss A. entered the room and I saw her look directly into the camera giving me a wink before turning to face the man.
He hung his head as he replied to her question. I could only wonder what she asked them.
“Have you been a bad boy” seemed a possible choice… apparently this one had been very bad.
She stomped her foot and he laid down on the floor on his stomach. Slowly she approached the table full of the implements and got herself a bundle of rope. Once again she gave a smirk to the camera. To me.
She knelt before the man and roughly tied his hands together on his back; then she pulled on the ropes and bound his feet as well; yanking the rope dragging feet and hands closer together.
I swallowed uncomfortably. She was hogtying him.
I was caressing my wrist with my thumb, I could feel the ropes and I felt how all the air had left my system again.
She turned him around and put her foot on his chest; pushing him into the hard floor underneath him.
I didn’t want to watch this. Why was she doing this… not for my sake. Was it? The mere thought made me sick to my stomach.
After shouting abuse at the man she moved her foot and I saw him buck painfully; she was stepping on his private parts and I was sure she was putting all her weight on that one foot.
He couldn’t fight it. Just like I couldn’t when I was little helpless Mira…
However this man had a safe-word. And he wasn’t using it. He needed this… that was the difference.
Eventually she kicked him in the side and undid his ropes; dashing off to the bathroom to take herself a quick shower and away to her bedroom changing into a white dress.
The man in the room was panting for breath and dressed slowly; that had been brutal!
I couldn’t help but wonder if they paid her extra for being that harsh…
I watched Miss A.’s path to the door of the room I was in and heard the lock click.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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