Part 6 - Car Park Cyclist
By Adrianne Bloom
bloom10001@hotmail.com
Copyright 2013 by Adrianne Bloom, all rights reserved
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* * * *
This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain depictions of
sexual activity
involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to
view such material or
if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do
not save this
story.
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Part
1
Admittedly
he looked a bit ridiculous cycling around
the car park like a teenager, especially as he must have been well into
his
fifties; but he was quite sexy in an older man sort of way. He
certainly looked
very fit and nicely tanned; his advertisement said that he would, and
his cute
ass perched over the saddle was good and tight and I could well imagine
the
kind of treatment it might be receiving later. I did need a few jobs
doing
around the garden and the bathroom would need cleaning later; the
chance of
getting those chores done for free, especially with a bit of
S&M thrown in,
was very appealing. Woe betides him if he does not do a good job
though, I tingled
with anticipation.
I also
wondered if he would seem as attractive to my
girl friends when they arrived later. I felt sure that he would; I
could
imagine the gasps when he appears in my lounge serving a tray of drinks
and
hors d’oeuvres wearing nothing but a frilly pinafore and with his red
behind on
view. I would bet that they’ll have never seen anything like that
before. So
the next time he turned the corner to come back down the aisle where I
was
parked I open my driver’s window and switched on the flashers. He
spotted my
car straight away and eagerly cycled over.
I had
seen his advertisement on the Personals page of
my favourite blog some days before when I had been planning this little
shin
dig with my old school chums and thought then what a good way this
would be of breaking
the ice and what a great source of some party games later. My friends,
whom I
had not seen for ages, would probably be wondering why I had never
married, they
probably thought I was a lesbian, something not entirely true. Most of
all I
wanted to introduce and share my sexual preferences with them. So the
idea of
having a male slave there in the house ready to diligently yield to our
whims
was the perfect way to do it.
His
advertisement had just read: I am an older man,
slim, fit and healthy and with a good well tanned body. I will be
cycling
around the Waitrose carpark at midday on Saturday. If there are any
ladies out
there that would like me to serve you in any way of your choosing, and
to punish
me if I did not perform well enough, then I am available for the day or
the
whole weekend. Just park facing outwards and switch on your flashers; I
will
approach your vehicle.
It was
a simple advertisement, to the point and very
intriguing. The timing was perfect and so very convenient; it also
fitted well
with my need of having no involvement in a relationship, I could simply
pick up
this guy, use him for the weekend and show him off to my friends, then
just
dump him when I was through. He would not object; he’d better not, we
would not
even need to exchange names; I will just call him slave I decided.
“Good morning
mistress” he said. He was very good looking with a strong symmetrical
face and
his bright blue eyes twinkled at me through the open window.
“Are
you planning to use me for the whole weekend, or
just for today?”
“Oh the
whole weekend,” I replied “and have no doubt
about it, you will be used. Now get that bicycle of yours in the back,
I’ll
open the tailgate, and then get in behind me.”
This is
how a relationship should be conducted, I
thought, with me in charge right from the start, with minimal need of
communication and everyone understanding what is required. This guy
clearly knows
the score, he called me mistress straight off didn’t he, and so won’t
need any
training. I know that my commands will be obeyed without question and
that’s
how I like it.
I
observed slave in the rear view mirror as we sat in
silence on our way back to my house. He appeared stoically calm as he
looked
out of the window, just his eyes moving to follow the scene as it past.
He was
good looking with a strong distinguished face. His fair hair was
closely
cropped and the tan of his face exaggerated the strong blue of his
eyes. He
looked familiar but I guess he just reminded me of an actor; well two
actors in
fact, a mixture of Rutger Hauer and Daniel Craig. I could see that
beneath his
stretched white tea shirt he had a good body, certainly good enough to
play
Bond any day.
He must
have noticed me observing him for at one stage,
with a lovely bright smile, he returned my gaze in the rear-view mirror.
“Don’t
you dare assume to make eye contact with me slave,”
I angrily returned, “your eyes will remain averted downwards at all
times. Is
that clear?”
“Yes
mistress,” he apologised and meekly cast his eyes
down.
That
was my first contact in dominant mode and, much
as I liked admiring his handsome face and clear eyes, I enjoyed
rebuking him
even more just for his humiliation. This man was nearly old enough to
be my
father and it was important that I maintained a strong authority right
from the
start.
As we
drove I contemplated what the afternoon might
bring. Maybe later, if I choose to, I will allow him to look me in the
eye; but
that will only be so that I can measure the degree of pain he is
enduring and
how well he handles it. I was planning quite an ordeal for him, pain
and
humiliation would only be the half of it. I wanted him to be totally
compliant
and submissive to my friends when they arrived and I also wanted his
naked
bottom to be decorated with some well delivered cane stripes so they
could see the
power that I could command. I deliberated on whether or not he should
be naked
at all times. It will be nice to appreciate all that muscle tone, you
don’t
always get that, but sometimes a little cover up can be highly
stimulating. It
might be amusing to dress him in girlie things, some of my frilly
tennis
panties for instance, but then it would be such a shame to feminise the
manliness of this particular specimen; just a frilly pinny should do
the trick
and some strategically placed leather cuffs and restraints to enhance
his
muscularity, and it will render him easier to handle. Then there is
always the
question of whether or not I would want his member to be exposed at all
times.
There was no doubt in my mind that it should always stand erect; but
sometimes it
could get in the way. I decided that a simple restraint around the root
of his
balls and an elastic band beneath his gland would ensure his permanent
erection,
that and the super strength Viagra I intended to administer of course
and, with
a simple tie between a tight waist strap and the elastic band, it would
keep
the whole business standing up straight and out of the way until it was
needed.
So when
I get him home his first order will be to
strip, then I will examine him closely and apply the restraints and
leather
accessories. The garage can be his quarters; it’s a good job I had
those metal
rings and manacles fitted to the walls, they’ll come in handy, he can
pee into
a bucket and I’ll throw an old horse blanket on the floor; he won’t be
getting
much time to rest there mind.
These
lovely thoughts were going through my mind when I
turned into the long gravel drive up to my house. I used the remote to
open the
garage doors and parked in the, otherwise empty, three car garage.
“Right,
out you get and stand facing that far wall;
quickly now!”
I
locked the doors to the Range Rover and the garage,
then gathered all the manacles, cuffs, straps and things I would need
from a
trunk under one of the workbenches.
With
slave still facing the wall, I ordered him to
place his hands on his head while I went over the entire back of his
body with
my hands. I started at the top checking his shoulder muscles, triceps,
biceps,
trapeziums, deltoids and lower back. His muscles felt hard beneath his
tight
tea-shirt, well defined and with long sinews connecting them. Then I
started
down the legs of his jeans from his waist. I squeezed and slapped each
buttock
hard; they were beautifully round and firm. I dug my fingers as deep as
I could
into each one and imagined those lovely nates receiving a sound
paddling and
some enthusiastic cane strokes before the afternoon was out. His thighs
and
calves were also long and hard. In every way this guy was prime quality
and I
felt fortunate that I had noticed his advertisement.
I
ordered him to turn around and face me. He stood
there, up straight, as proud as a stallion except as demure as a little
boy
with his hands on his head, his chin lowered and his eyes to the ground.
“Remove your
clothing and hand it to me neatly in a pile with your shoes at the
bottom”, I
ordered.
He
meekly obeyed, starting with his shoes. I stood
some distance away as I watched him undress so that I could view the
entire
picture of this submissive display. He made no fuss or protest but
calmly and elegantly
began removing each item of clothing. I didn’t say a word and just
allowed this
demonstration of masculine reserve to unfold. Eventually he was down to
his
underpants; tight, white boxers that came down to a third of his thigh
with a wide
waist band that had a designer’s name printed on it. His balls bulged
beneath
the thin white covering and standing above was a stiff long pole,
clearly his
penis was quite erect already. While in this state he gathered up his
clothes,
folded them neatly in a pile and placed them on the ground behind him;
I
watched his strong buttocks curve and spread as he did. He stood up
straight
facing me again and then with no hesitation only mild reticence, still
calm and
unflustered, took down his shorts. His impressive penis sprung out from
the
fabric that had enclosed it. Oh I’ll have a bit of that later I
thought. He
stepped out of his shorts and, with full-frontal rampant nudity,
carefully
folded his underpants, bent over again to place them on the pile of his
clothes, picked them up and took the few steps necessary to hand the
neat
bundle to me.
I left
him standing there with the bundle in his arms
while I slowly stepped around taking in every aspect of his anatomy.
His tan
was complete; spray-on or real I wondered, but it was uneven so must
have been caused
by the sun. Where had he been to get an all-over tan like this I
wondered? Parts
of his body had also been shaved, or perhaps waxed in the back, sack
and crack
style. His legs and front pubic region were still covered in coarse
blonde
hair; but his chest, back and buttocks were hairless. It was very
attractive
and I was intrigued as to how it came about; but I had no intention of
giving
the compliment by asking him.
While
his arms were still outstretched holding his
pile of clothes, I clasped cuffs to each of his wrists; then I took the
pile of
clothes from him, locked them away, and told him to stand by the wall
facing
out. He obediently stood beneath the metal clasps fixed there and I
took each
of his arms and secured them above his head. It was lovely to have an
older,
strong naked man so vulnerable and within my control. I fixed leather
cuffs to
his ankles and stroked his legs on the way up admiring his organ
standing so
erect. It was beautiful, long and hard, circumcised and with a
perfectly
proportioned bulbous head that had a deep cleft around it. I grasped
his cock
tightly, my fist barely fitting around it, it felt like a warm metal
rod and as
I brought my hand up and down I watched as the hole at its top opened
and
closed. I played with it, flicking the tip and squeezing the head. I
encased
his balls with my other hand, they too were neat and tight, amazingly
so for a
man of his age, and squeezed them too as firmly as I could. I was
seeking some
kind of response from him, a squeal of discomfort perhaps or even a
moan of
pleasure; but he continued to stand there stoically accepting what I
was doing
and with the same enigmatic smile that he’d had on his face since I had
picked
him up in the car park.
I
applied the genital clamp, a simple leather collar
with a Velcro fastening, as tight as I could, pulling the Velcro to its
minimum
girth around the root of his tackle behind his balls. His member pulsed
and
grew more bulbous as I pulled. Then I took a thick rubber band, like a
wide “O”
ring of about two centimetres diameter, expanded it as much as it would
go then
snapped it in place around the rim of his gland.
At last
it caused him to respond; but only to close
his eyes and bend his knees slightly, then he was standing straight
again but
now his blue eyes were somewhat moist.
“Would
you like some water,” I asked.
“Oh yes
please Mistress”.
I found
an old jam jar and filled it from the outside
tap.
“You
must drink all of this and swallow these
tablets,” I ordered placing two blue super-strength Viagra pills onto
his
tongue and bringing the jar to his lips.
He
drank and swallowed.
“Good,
now we can be sure that there’ll be no softness
from down there for a while, can’t we?”
“It’s
really unnecessary you know Mistress, I can keep
it up for a long time.”
I
slapped him hard across his face. He looked
surprised but otherwise showed no sign of pain.
“Don’t
you ever back chat to me again do you hear” I reprimanded.
“I’m
sorry but I thought that had been a question.”
So I
slapped him again, harder and to both sides of
his face this time. He showed complete remorse by hanging his head. I
was
pleased with this response.
I gave
him some clogs to put on his feet, undid his
arms from the clasps at the wall, showed him where the garden tools
were and
put him to work in the garden.
I
observed him working from the upstairs window; he
worked diligently and enthusiastically. It was such a turn-on watching
a naked
man in the garden cutting back the shrubs and gathering up all the
debris. I
noticed that the fresh outside air made no difference to the power of
his
erection; it stood as firm as ever, sometimes even getting in the way
of the
jobs he was doing. I watched him at work with the shears and nearly
died of
fright as they sliced so easily through the hedge in such close
proximity to
his lovely meat. I thought I would show a bit of consideration and bind
his
penis closer to his abdomen. So I took a wide weight trainer’s belt
into the
garden and fixed it around his waist. On the belt metal rings had been
sewn
securely at the front, the back and on each side.
“You’re
a good worker,” I told him, “so I’ve come to
show my appreciation. I’ve noticed that your erection is interfering
with your
work, so this should put that right.”
I
crouched down in front of him and took his member
into my mouth. I could only get the first fifteen or so centimetres in
comfortably and the bulbous head was so swollen that it nearly chocked
me; but it
was enough for me to completely cover the end with my saliva. This made
it
slippery enough to be able to slide the band off and replace it with a
similar
one that had a short chain attached. The other end of this chain I
fixed to the
metal ring at the front of the wide belt so that his rod pointed
straight up. I
set him back to work again with a sharp hand slap to each of his
buttocks.
“Thank
you Mistress” he uttered and went back to work.
When I
got to the upstairs window again and watched him
working away I decided that the scene was just too good to go
unappreciated; what
with the vision of a stark naked Adonis, the memory of his hard penis
still in
my mouth and the thought of what was still to come, I just had to strip
off, get
my favourite vibrator and masturbate as vigorously as I could while I
watched. He
sneaked a peak up to the window as I stood there and I allowed it.
Three
orgasms in quick succession later left me
feeling that a little rest in the hot tub would set me right for the
evening;
so I got the bubbles going and lay down in it for a while. An hour
later, after
I had dried and was dressing at the window, slave was nowhere to be
seen. He’d
had clear instruction to mow the lawn, cut back the laurel and clear up
the
debris but I had a view of all those areas of the garden and he was
just not
there. Oh how tiresome, I thought, now I’m going to have to go down
there and
find him; this is most inconvenient, just as I was getting dressed as
well.
I was
not happy as I stamped down the stairs and out
into the garden. I was wearing just a silk petticoat and, to make
matters
worse, it got snagged on a rose thorn as I stormed through the rose
arbour. My calf-skin
slippers were getting muddy as well. Just wait until I get my hands on
him.
Slave
was not by the lawn, neither was he in the shed,
he wasn’t near the laurel bush or at the compost heap either; where was
he? I
tried the garage, not there; but I heard movement in the kitchen
through the
back door. I marched into the kitchen to find slave making tea. I was
livid and
speechless.
“I
thought you might like a nice cup of refreshing Lapsang
Souchong tea,” he casually remarked. “I was going to bring you one up
while you
were languishing in the bath, I heard the water running and, as I have
finished
all the work you set, I thought you might like me to wash you while you
enjoyed
a nice soothing cup.”
“Oh you
did, did you?” I was furious; a bit taken
aback by his kind thought of serving me tea when I thought he was
brewing it
for himself; but angry nevertheless. I needed to gather my thoughts to
retain
my hard resolve.
“Number
one, I did not give you permission to enter
this house; the garage is your place. Number two, I did not grant you
free
reign of my kitchen to root around in my cupboards for exotic teas.
Number
three, if you hear the hot tub running it is no concern of yours, your
one
concern should be the job you’ve been set – the gardening. Number four,
you
certainly should not assume that you might enter my bathroom while I am
there
and number five, you absolutely should not assume that I would want you
to wash
me whether I am enjoying a cup of ‘Lapsang Souchong’ or not. I am very,
very angry
with you and this cannot possibly go unpunished.”
He hung
his head in shame.
“I had
thought you would not need instruction” I
continued; “but I was wrong wasn’t I? When you cycled up to my car and
were, oh
so humble, addressing me as mistress without any prompting I thought,
oh good,
someone who knows his place right from the start. But this
presumptuousness,
this presumptuousness that you can use this house, and me, as though
they were
your own; well this needs to be thoroughly punished.”
I
noticed a sly smile appear on his face and his cock did
a little shudder.
“Now
put that kettle down and get yourself back into
the garage at once”
I took
him by the ear and marched him through for
punishment. Under a bench was a Workmate trestle that I got him to pull
out and
place into the centre of the garage.
“Now
open the jaws of the Workmate a few inches and
get yourself laid across it,” I ordered.
Then I
attached his wrist manacles to each leg of the
bench and did the same with his ankles. Next I closed the jaws of the
vice
tightly around his penis holding it tightly between its teeth. Now if
he moved
even an inch it would cause excruciating pain to his genitals.
“You’re
in for a good paddling now young man after
that kind of behaviour. While you’re here you need to understand your
place in
this house.”
Then I
took the sturdy Spencer paddle down from a hook
and prepared to give him some mighty swats.
The
first caught him squarely across the crown of both
cheeks with a resounding smack that echoed around the empty garage. He
uttered
a soft grunt. The next was slightly lower on the area where you sit, a
very
sensitive area and this caused him to wince. I had thought to give him
ten
swats so now decided that most would be to that same spot. I continued
to whack
him there and a rectangle of hot colour appeared. He couldn’t move; he
would
not dare the way he was trapped in the vice, so all he could do was
utter
grunts and gasps that told me the paddle was having an effect. By the
tenth
swat he was sucking air rapidly, clenching his fists and stamping his
feet. His
bottom was rosy red and glowing.
“Right,
that will do for now, no doubt there will be
more to come.” I was sure that there would, this was only a part of
what I had
planned. ”You’re going to stay like that for ten minutes; then there’s
my
bathroom to clean.”
I left
him there in the garage with his hands and feet
still tied, his cock and balls in the vice and his sore backside
throbbing
away.
I
needed to change my slip; I really was furious that,
because of slave, I had ruined one of my favourite petticoats; a lovely
soft
green coloured one that I did not think could be replaced. He would pay
for that.
Now it was useless and I could not possibly wear it again it had upset
my plans
and I was now unsure about how I was going to dress for the evening.
Perhaps I
should choose trousers instead; but then my friends would definitely
think me a
lesbian; a frock would be better. I’ll bet they’re all going to wear
frocks,
Stepford Wife style; that settles it, definitely not a frock. Shall I
go the
whole hog and dress as a dominatrix? No that would give the game away
right
from the start; no fun in that.
While I
was searching from one wardrobe to the next
totally distracted by my dressing dilemma, thoughts of slave in the
garage
completely left my mind. It was a half hour later when I realised that
he should
be cleaning the bathroom. What am I doing flapping around up here, I
need to
get myself organised? Even though I was still dressed in only my
underwear,
stockings and suspenders, I went back to the garage to fetch him. He
was in a
bit of distress and gently moaning but I was glad to see that, being
held in
the vice for so long apart from a little bruising had not damaged his
organ
significantly. The blood had really filled his punished bottom cheeks
though;
they were now bright scarlet. All concerns about how I should be
dressing
vanished when I saw those glowing beacons; I just had to get my hands,
or to be
more precise my hairbrush, on those swollen globes once more for some
more
energetic spanking.
So I
marched him upstairs and back into my bedroom
grabbing a stout wooden hairbrush from my dressing table on the way. I
upturned
him over my knee and began spanking those lovely firm cheeks
enthusiastically over
and over again. It made me quite excited to have him squirming and
wriggling on
my lap and, after quite a short time, he was begging and pleading and
so
desperate for me to stop that he was tearing at my ankles. Then I felt
the
material of my stockings shred at the heel. Right, that’s it enough was
enough,
first my silk petticoat ruined now my stockings; this guy has
absolutely no
regard for my clothes; I’m going to have to get serious.
I threw
him off my lap.
“That’s
a caning for you my lad; up you get, do not
rub at your bottom. Over in that wardrobe a bunch of canes, bring it
out here.”
I
glared at him with hard eyes as he retreated, his
red and swollen cheeks bouncing as he went. While he searched the
cupboard for
the canes I piled pillows onto my metal four poster bed to support his
hips and
to present his bottom up high.
“Up you
get, face down on the bed,” I ordered,
“quickly now, I’ve some important friends arriving in a few hours;
you’ve
wasted enough of my time already and I haven’t got it spare to be
punishing you.”
I fixed his
wrists and ankles to the corners of the bed; he was perfectly placed
for a good
sound thrashing. From the bundle of canes I first selected a dark wood
thin
Malacca for some swift stingy strokes; these I delivered in quick
succession
with a sharp flick of the wrist. His buttocks were so red already that
the
marks from this cane were not visible; it was only the twitching and
quivering
of his cheeks that told me he was feeling anything. When I got down to
the
untouched area at the back of his thighs and continued down to his
knees though,
the thin purple welts of this attack stood out strongly against the
colour of
his tan.
I was
taking out my rage on this defenceless slave as
I continued to thrash away up and down his legs from his waist to his
knees. I
put all my strength behind the thin cane as it whipped away and soon he
was
crying out desperate for me to stop. After a while, my anger somewhat
abated, I
began to think more rationally; I decided that, if I was going to
impress my
friends, I really needed to have some stripes visible on his bottom.
Only a
thick heavy cane was going to make any difference to the already purple
colour of
his swollen buttocks. I selected one of my favourite smoked dragon
canes; a
cane that really delivered powerful thwacks and caused thick angry
welts even
from the first stroke but especially on this swollen skin. I swished it
through
the air a few times; I loved the sound it made, like a swarm of bees
all
accelerating at the same time. You could imagine it vibrating to a halt
as it
landed on target, every buzz of hard wood on sensitive skin like a
sting from
each insect of that very swarm.
“Now
you’re for it,” I hissed, “I love this cane and I
love the effect it has. This is really going to make you squirm and
howl.”
And howl he
did; from the very first blinding stroke right through to the twenty
fifth. I
stopped at twenty five as there was a danger of drawing blood and,
although I
wanted a pair of nicely decorated bottom cheeks to show my girlfriends,
I
didn’t want them massacred.
I set
him to work cleaning the bathroom while I
resumed getting ready.
Part
2
“Hello
Kimberly, oh look at you, you look so good. How long has it been, it
must be over
twelve years, oh my God you look so sophisticated? Your hair looks
great short
like that. Oh look at the lovely soft leather in those leather pants;
and that belt,
are those real gemstones on it, where did you get it? I want one? Wow
that
little lot must have cost you a fortune.”
Monica
was the first to arrive as effervescent and as over
the top as ever. She and I went back a long way and, although we were
very
different personalities, she was a good friend and we’d had some
outrageous
times together.
I
didn’t want to get slave in yet, not until all my
guests had arrived to maximise the impact of his arrival, so I poured
her out a
glass of wine from an already opened bottle. She continued to gush on
about
clothes, makeup and all the other mindless material things that seemed
to
occupy her these days.
Elaine
and Deborah were the next arrivals together. Whereas
Monica and I had known each other at University I had not set eyes on
these two
since my Girl Guide days; so there would be a lot to catch up on. They
both
looked very well and healthy and, although we greeted each other
pleasantly
enough I noticed a degree of aloofness that I had not remembered from
before. Maybe
this was because I had been in charge of them as Girl Guides and they
still
felt that their subordination was a condition of their friendship.
Then
Jacqueline arrived. If Monica was over the top,
Jacqueline was sliding down the other side on polished silver skis. She
had rolled
up the drive in a Bentley Continental, escorted out by a chauffeur
resplendent
in full grey livery with jodhpurs, yes jodhpurs, tucked into polished
knee high
black leather boots. The chauffeur was instructed to wait in the car,
he’s
going to be there for a while I thought, I hope he has a good book, but
then he
probably has a television to watch in a car like that.
“Kimberley
darling, what a perfect little house,” she
greeted me. “It’s just like one that I have on the other side of the
estate for
the farm labourer; it’s just so cute. You must still live here alone?”
She was
always ready with the put down. She hadn’t
changed; why did I invite her?
“Oh and
the décor, minimalism is so trendy at the
moment, delightful.” This statement withered the moment it was uttered.
“Hello
Jacqueline,” I hoped that the contempt would
not be heard in my voice; she had only just arrived and I was already
getting
annoyed with her. It’s time to get slave in I thought, to get the
attention
back to me, otherwise this lady is going to get all the whole time she
is here.
So I
made everybody comfortable, they all knew each
other anyway and, like me, some had not seen each other for a while so
the
conversation flowed quite easily with talk and news of who was going
with whom.
I sidled into the kitchen where slave was plating up the hors
d’oeuvres, I
selected a bottle of champagne, showed him where the glasses were and
told him
to bring in the starters and drinks when he was ready. But first I
inspected
his attire; I wanted his entrance to be spectacular.
From
the front he looked like a body builder who had
lost his clothes and put on the first thing he could lay his hands on;
in this
case a pink and white gingham pinafore that was too small for him. It
was tied
around the back of his neck by two ribbons of the same material
attached to a bodice
that made little attempt to cover his bulging pectorals. Beneath the
bodice the
skirt section was tied at the waist and outlined by a row of sweet pink
lace
and had two pockets also outlined on either side. It was short enough
to barely
cover what imagination told you were an impressive set of tackle
beneath.
I had
replaced the weight trainer’s belt earlier with
a thin leather boot lace that now held his erect penis aloft; but other
than
the pinafore, wrist and ankle cuffs, he was totally naked. So from the
back,
framed by the apron waist band tied in a big bow and the lace edging
around it,
his poor sore bare buttocks were a sorry sight. The red and purple
meaty globes
were striped with darker purple cane welts, thick and swollen, that
curved
around his cheeks ending with a hard pip of dried blood. Thin parallel
tram
lines continued down the backs of his thighs to his knees. It made you
wince
just to see him walk; but he seemed to show no reaction to it at all.
I crept
back into the lounge again and continued in
the conversation as though I had not been away and waited for the
effect of slave’s
arrival.
I had
my back to the kitchen door and was facing Monica;
Jacqueline was between the two of us holding court; Elaine and Deborah
were
standing together by the bay window admiring the Bentley, or was it the
chauffer?
I
noticed Monica’s jaw drop, her eyes went wide and
her face took on the look of someone being visited by the Angel
Gabriel. I knew
that slave had entered the lounge.
“Oh my
God” she uttered and Jacqueline turned to see the
cause of this reaction.
Interrupted
mid-sentence, she was at first annoyed,
then her expression changed from annoyance to amusement and finally to
outright
lust.
“Girls,
I want you to meet slave,” I proclaimed
proudly and then nonchalantly; “sorry, I do not even know his name; but
we can
call him slave, he will certainly answer to that, he’d better and,
guess what,
he will, quite honestly, do whatever we ask of him. But first, please,
have
some bubbly to celebrate our meeting together again after so long.”
I did
not want to draw attention to slave’s punished
backside, not yet; so far all they had seen was a semi-naked superman,
I was
looking forward to their surprised reaction when it dawned on them that
he
submitted to my punishment as well as my whims. Slave moved around
courteously
and politely among the guests handing out glasses and offering food.
Not a word
was said; just some nervous giggling from Monica and Deborah. As he
went to the
window to serve Elaine and Deborah his back became visible to
Jacqueline and
Monica. Monica displayed that shocked expression again; but Jacqueline,
after her
lustful glint turned to unembarrassed desire, as casually and
unflustered as if
she was his mistress, ordered him to come closer
and show her his
bottom.
“Turn
around and bend forward slightly,” she ordered
and began squeezing his cheeks between her fingers.
“Mmm,
nicely swollen” she exclaimed, “and a good grouping
with the cane strokes. This must have been one serious cane you used on
him,” she
stated; “and let me guess, a hairbrush; before or after the caning?”
I was
so angry; the bitch was going to steal my
thunder at every stage. She obviously knew all about CP games and was
apparently an experienced exponent herself. How come I had never
discovered it?
“I’m
glad you’re giving him what he deserves and
you’re dealing with him properly” she continued. “Slaves need to be
dealt with
firmly and kept in line at every opportunity.”
I fumed.
Then
even Elaine got in on the act. She joined
Jacqueline in examining his bottom at close quarters.
“I
think I can see evidence of a paddle here as well;
either a Spencer paddle or a prison strap? Which one was it? About
twenty or
thirty strokes I’d say: Ouch! Painful!”
How
dare she? And how could she be as knowledgeable as
Jacqueline; where did she get that experience? Then, not to be
excluded, even
Deborah chimed in, was there no end to this?
“Oh I
hate the Spencer paddle.” I was speechless. “Most
things I can take but the Spencer paddle just makes me feel ill. It
doesn’t sting
enough, it only thuds. Give me sting every time”.
My
goodness I was holding a party for a group of
enthusiastic spankophiles and I’d had no idea. Monica was the only one
it
seemed that was sexually straight and showed any surprise. She was open
mouthed
and wide eyed as she looked first to slave’s bottom then from one to
the other
as each of them revealed their secrets and back to slave again. She was
as
aghast as I was at the realisation of what she was hearing.
Oh
well, that was my mind-blowing party piece ruined; still
it meant we were going to have a good party, might as well just enjoy
it. Let’s
see what transpires.
“Deborah”
I asked, “it would appear that you have some
experience of getting your bottom smacked; is that a recent practice or
does it
go back to when you were much younger, like at school for instance?”
“Oh
no,” she was dismissive “Elaine and I have been spanking
each other’s bare bottoms for ages; although it’s mostly Elaine
smacking me.”
More
revelations to me, Elaine and Deborah were not
only gay, I had realised that much, but in a sado masochistic way.
“Only
when you’ve been a very naughty girl though”
Elaine interjected.
“When
I’ve been a very naughty girl, I get
caned.” Deborah protested. “You’ll spank me though at any opportunity;
if I’m
lucky”, she laughed.
This
broke the ice and soon everybody was chuckling
and interacting with each other. Except Monica whose effervescence had
turned
flat. She was clearly the odd one out and, as the host, I wanted to get
her
more involved. I had seen her reaction when slave had entered and knew
that,
given the chance, she would be eager to get her hands on him. I
intended to
give her that opportunity.
“Slave
we have some empty glasses here,” I snapped, “look
Monica’s glass is empty. Come on, you’re supposed to be looking after
us.
Refill everybody at once, start with Monica and then open another
bottle.
Honestly, you’d think we just wanted him here as eye candy; quickly boy
work
the room.” I admonished him with a haughty attitude and an impatient
wave of my
fingers. Slave moved into action immediately but, just as he was
pouring into
Monica’s glass, I nudged his elbow and the champagne went over her
sleeve.
“Now
look what you’ve done, you clumsy oaf”; Monica
knew that I had caused this, so did slave but dared not say anything;
“put that
bottle down and fetch the tawse, you’ll find it hanging up in the
garage with
the other implements. You might as well bring the paddle as well while
you’re
at it, I’ve a feeling we’re going to need it.”
The
room went quiet, Jacqueline tutted; everyone knew
what was going to happen and eagerly anticipated it. Slave left to
fetch the
implements. I asked Monica if she had had any experience of CP at all
and she
told me that, at her convent school, the nuns sometimes used to strap
the hands
of naughty girls.
“In
that case,” I announced, “it was his hands that
were clumsy, so his hands will be punished.”
A sigh
of disappointment went around.
“I was
rather hoping we’d all get a chance to spank
those lovely bottom cheeks,” said Jacqueline.
“Yes,
let’s all paddle his bum in turn”. Spurred on by
their urges, the girls were reverting to a collective of adolescents. I
needed
to take control.
“Alright,
I’m the host and he’s my slave so I’ll
decide.” Quiet descended.
“He
needs to be punished for his clumsiness, so I’ll
give him ten strokes with the tawse to each hand and, as Monica is the
injured
party, she’ll give him ten to each as well. Then we’ll have a game of
spin the
bottle or something to determine how else we deal with him. Why don’t
you all
give some thought to how we arrange this? There are three things we
need to
decide; who does it, how many strokes and with what. I have various
implements,
a hairbrush, a couple of nice stingy straps, a stout wooden paddle with
holes
in, a firm leather tawse and an assortment of canes and riding crops.”
“Now
you’re talking” Elaine spoke up “this is going to
be fun. But do we have to only involve the slave in this? Deborah, you
have
some punishment due if I recall. I’m sure that you’d like to take part.
You’re
not averse to performing in front of an audience are you?”
“Yes an
audience of strangers,” Deborah was quick to
react, “I find that quite exhilarating; but I know everybody here” she
feigned
embarrassment. “I’m not sure that I want you all to see my bare bottom;
especially when I’m being punished.”
“Oh how
cute” said Elaine sarcastically, “but I really
don’t think we should let you off. In fact I’m going to insist that you
join
slave and receive your punishment from all of us alongside him.”
Deborah
became agitated with excitement, whether in
fear or anticipation was not clear.
“I have
an idea of how we might decide the gameplay”
Jacqueline offered, “and it does not require spinning bottles, how
quaint I
haven’t done that since I was at college.”
My
irritation of this lady was becoming acute. It
would be nice to somehow get her bent over with her bottom bared before
the
party was over.
“It
does require a pair of dice though, I suppose you
do have such things here do you?”
Dice
were an essential element of CP games so I knew
that I had a pair somewhere, but I allowed her to continue.
“We
take turns to throw the dice one at a time, the
first throw decides who does it, and the second the implement while the
total
number of the two decides the number of strokes.”
This
was a good idea and received popular agreement
from all and I schemed that, once the game was in progress, I would
reverse the
rules and suggest that the first throw would determine who should be on
the
receiving end. Let Jacqueline take her chances along with everybody
else.
Slave
arrived back in the room with the tawse and the
paddle.
I
admonished his clumsiness, told him he was to be
punished and, as she was the one who was offended, Monica would also
administer
some punishment as well. I then made him stand in the classic schoolboy
manner
with his hand outstretched to receive some stinging stripes from the
tawse. There
was deathly quiet around the room as everyone eagerly watched.
I gave
him ten really stinging strokes to his left
hand that must have hurt dreadfully as tears appeared in his eyes and
he found
it difficult to keep his hand out towards the end. Just as I was
preparing to
deliver the same to his right hand, Jacqueline demanded that he should
remove
his pinafore.
“I
always believe that a man should be refused modesty
when being punished,” she qualified. “If he is to be treated like a
naughty boy
then, no matter how silly he looks in that pinafore, naughty boys
should be
afforded no dignity. Besides, I want to see his penis twitching as the
strap
comes down.”
This
was greeted with amusement and it was generally
accepted that the pinafore should indeed come off.
It
caused great amusement when he found it difficult
to undo the ribbon knots at the back with his sore fingers; but
eventually,
without any help being offered, the flimsy protection was removed and a
gasp
went up at the magnificence of his erect organ. The next thing he was
standing
in schoolboy style again, this time with his right hand out and all the
girls
tittering and remarking at his twitching upright pole while I walloped
the
strap down again and again onto his hand as it became redder and redder.
Then it
was Monica’s turn to use the strap on him.
She was
a bit nervous having never done anything like this
before and anxious to get it right; but slave was co-operatively
patient with
her false starts and, with much offered advice from Jacqueline and
Elaine and
encouragement from all, she made an extremely competent job of it and
slave was
almost in tears after ten to each hand given by Monica. He was
certainly in a
lot of distress and, at the end, was dancing around and waving his
hands
frantically in the air to cool them down. This was the cause of much
hilarity
to everybody, especially to Jacqueline who sadistically insisted that
her glass
should be recharged immediately and that there really was not the time
to allow
this indulgence.
“Come
on slave, there are empty glasses here while
you’re dancing about doing your impression of a goose trying to fly.”
Slave
dropped the Champagne bottle his fingers were so
numb, causing more laughter from the group, and had to pick it up and
somehow
get the liquid into the glasses as steady as he could using just his
wrists. Elaine
could not resist the opportunity to distract him by flicking and
fingering his
organ while he struggled to refill the glasses.
Monica
was flushed with excitement after her first CP
practice, I was anxious to stimulate her further with a nice pair of
masculine
buttocks to get to work on. I found a pair of dice in the sideboard and
brought
them in to the game.
I was
pleased when the first game, involving slave
once more, had him over Monica’s knee for ten slaps with the hairbrush.
Jacqueline insisted that, when an over the knee spanking was drawn, the
total number
determined by the dice should count for each cheek. No one objected to
this,
slave might have done but he was never given the chance. Monica enjoyed
herself
from the start, fondling, stroking, pinching and squeezing his cheeks
and made
sure that every inch was explored by diligent use of her fingers. It
was
obvious that she had become very turned on by this for, before she
started
spanking him, she turned him around, released his cock from the boot
lace,
played with it a bit, pulled up her skirt to her hips; she had bare
legs, then
pulled him over her lap with his cock between her thighs and really
went to
town on his bottom with the hairbrush.
Poor
slave was in quite a state when it was over. He
had almost shot his load; there were tell-tale spots of cum dribbling
from the
end of his shaft and he could hardly stand. Monica was flushed and
flustered
and fidgeting nervously not knowing what to do with herself. Given the
chance
right then, I think she would have plunged slave’s cock into her mouth
and
sucked him dry without hesitating; but we were not intent on pleasuring
slave
just yet. He was sent off into the corner with his hands on his head
for
further humiliation and Deborah, with Elaine’s insistence and with mock
reluctance,
joined the fray to be punished for our amusement.
It is
just as pleasing to spank a girl as it is a man.
The humiliation of a man, especially one as strong and virile as slave,
and
reducing him down to the level of a snivelling little boy gives a girl
a great
sense of power; but punishing another girl, particularly one as sweet
and
submissive as Deborah has its own rewards: plump fair skin rippling and
colouring nicely under the spanking, soft spoken pleading, gentle
mewing and
yelping; these touch the heart more appealingly then masculine resolve,
so
everyone was especially keen to have Deborah join in as a victim.
She
undressed down to a short silk chemise and thong
while I shook the dice.
The
first throw landed on two, Jacqueline’s designated
number and she bristled with anticipation. The second landed on six,
the number
for the senior cane, oh dear on a cold bottom as well, poor Deborah.
She
readied herself for eight strokes from Jacqueline; I had the feeling
that these
were not going to be light strokes either.
Jacqueline
told Deborah to bend over the back of the
sofa and made great play of ensuring that her bottom was high in the
air and
that her feet were off the ground.
“I want
to see those legs wriggling” Jacqueline ordered.
This
was no novice at work, Jacqueline had none of
Monica’s hesitations or missed strokes; she was an enthusiastic expert
and it was
apparent in the way that she first whooshed the cane through the air a
few
times to instil fear into Deborah, I watched poor Deborah’s buttocks
clench
involuntarily at each sound, and once Jacqueline had got a feel for the
spirit
of the rod she readied by lining up the shot.
Then
with an almighty crack Jacqueline brought the
cane down from over her shoulder cutting it through the air for it to
land
full-square and embed itself deeply into Deborah’s soft round cheeks.
Everyone
gasped at the power of the stroke and at Jacqueline’s cruelty for
delivering the
first one so viciously. Deborah nearly hit the ceiling she jumped so
high and
danced around clutching her bottom going “Yow ow ow wow ooh ow ow, oh
God that
hurt…” for what seemed like ages.
“Gosh
that was a corker,” exclaimed Elaine, “I say, take
it easy Jacqueline, this is only a game.”
“Oh,
and is there any point in doing it lightly then?”
Replied Jacqueline indignantly. “If a bottom is to be thrashed it needs
to be
done properly.”
“Would
you like to be on the receiving end of one like
that then?” Elaine countered angrily.
“But
I’m not and that’s the whole point. You said
yourself that she had some punishment due; I’m just saving you the
trouble, and
doing it thoroughly. Come on Deborah, that’s enough of your fuss. You
have
seven more to come.”
Jacqueline
then proceeded to deliver seven more
painful strokes to Deborah’s soft girlish cheeks as she wriggled and
cried
until all had been given. Elaine could only look on, horrified.
I was
even more determined after that cruel show to
somehow manipulate Jacqueline into a situation where she was the one
over the
couch.
We were
all suffering shell-shock after this; Deborah
disappeared into a bedroom with Elaine to receive comfort and to have
her
stripes cared for, slave was brought out of the corner to lay the table
and
serve up dinner while Monica went out for a cigarette. I was alone with
Jacqueline.
“So
Jacqueline, you’re doing well by the look of it,”
I began; “expensive car, chauffer, living on a private estate,
expensive
clothes; where did all this come from?”
“Three
husbands darling, wealthy ones and luckily for
me neither of them satisfied with one bed. Even the last, who was
seventy five,
I expected him to pop his clogs at any time, I caught him shagging one
of the
stable maids.” She was smug and self-satisfied as she said this. “You
need a
good private detective mind and a good lawyer of course; I was shagging
both of
them,” she let out a raucous laugh. “Each of the smucks thought I was a
bit
dumb, but I was brighter than all of them, right from the start I had
one
intention, screw them for half of what they had, every last penny
darling.”
And
there was I thinking that I was a misandrist; this
lady was writing the book on it.
“After
the first it becomes easy, you get to know the
kind of man to look for,” she confided, “notice the signs, play the
game, give
them the slack, play the dutiful wife then bring in the spooks. It
catches them
every time they can’t help it, they are all the same. A successful man
that is
also a loyal husband doesn’t exist. Ego darling; drives their success
but has
to be stroked constantly, and if the wife doesn’t pander to it, you’d
be
surprised, they seek it in the most unsuitable of places”.
“What
about CP? You’re not new to this game, where did
that experience come from? Did you play with any of your husbands?” I
was
curious but I was also trying to lead her into a trap.
“Oh all
of them, if they weren’t interested at first I
soon made them interested. They all had leanings in that direction
anyway to be
honest, public school darling, adolescent boys dropping their trousers
for some
nice stingy cane strokes from a prefect not much older, communal
wanking in the
dormitory for a bit of relief, all that fagging, un-natural if you ask
me. It’s
bound to turn you into a pervert; but I certainly liked giving them
what for.”
She
really did have a low opinion of men. I had to
lead her further to entrap her.
“It
does show a certain measure of strength and
resolve though, don’t you think? I mean look at the way Deborah was
able to
submit to what you did to her just now. We all admired her for it at
the end. I
have tremendous regard for those that can submit like that.”
“Do you
dear? Oh I just see a nice pair of bum cheeks
that need a good thrashing and to take my frustrations out on.”
“That’s
just crude and artless.” I was getting really
annoyed with Jacqueline but had to keep my emotions controlled.
“Wielding a
cane is like playing a cello, or playing tennis. Yes you can just
thrash about
but all you create is noise and a pissed off audience. The cello bow or
the
tennis racket is an extension of your own body and therefore your
personality.
It is illustrative of your behaviour and approach to everything. If you
use
these extensions with skill acquired from years of training and with
the
finesse obtained from mental control and stability, you deliver fine
music or a
fluid volley and everyone appreciates it. The cane is the same; when
used with
skill and control the submissive, assuming they have consented of
course like
Deborah, we’re not talking about judicial punishment; the recipient is
taken to
a realm beyond just pain and into a state of euphoria close to the
ecstasy of
love making; likewise the audience are thrilled and stimulated by the
spectacle.
Have you ever experienced submission at the hands of an experienced
exponent” I
asked?
Just
then slave came in to announce that dinner was
served, Monica was just behind him; the moment was lost and Jacqueline
escaped
having to respond. I could tell though from her discomfort at the
question that
she had never felt the sting of a well-placed length of rattan wrapped
around
her cheeks.
The
atmosphere at dinner was lively and relaxed. Everyone
was now stimulated by the alcohol and the previous entertainment.
Deborah was
completely recovered, Monica’s effervescence renewed and they were both
in
animated conversation throughout the meal. Slave made an efficient and
courteous table waiter not even becoming flustered with all the
attention paid
to his bottom whilst his hands were full. It did not go unnoticed that
he had
replaced his pinafore without asking permission. He would be punished
for that
later, maybe in private once everyone had left. Jacqueline had asked if
the
chauffer might be allowed in, so he was out in the kitchen sharing the
table
with slave for his meal; keep the boys together was the best policy I
felt. I
was pleased that I had no reason to leave the dining room; slave was
managing
very well, so I left him to it.
Inevitably
when five women are dining together the
conversation turns to the opposite sex or more precisely our attitudes
towards
them. Because Elaine and Deborah had been lesbian partners since
forever and
Jacqueline was a confirmed misandrist they had strong views and a low
opinion
of men. Elaine had been saying that all men were basically cowards and
that
given the choice they would always take either the easier way out or
the one
that suited them best. Jacqueline whole heartedly agreed. My view was
more
sympathetic and I listed some of the conditions that would drive a man
to take
the difficult path; things like loyalty, honour, duty, pride and ego. I
was
going to add love to the list but knew that Jacqueline would ridicule
that
suggestion.
Even
so: “Balderdash, absolute balderdash” was
Jacqueline’s outburst. “Ego perhaps, but get real sweet heart, men have
not
been motivated by duty, honour or pride since World War bloomin one.
That
debacle knocked any of those ideals out of the social ethos - and
killed off
all the good ole chaps in the process. That was the end of idealism”
“My
great granddad was in the Great War”, Deborah
piped up, changing the subject and relieving us all of another outburst
from
Jacqueline. “He was important, a Brigadier or something. He survived. I
never
knew him of course, but I remember my granddad talking about him. My
granddad
was only about eleven when his father had left and fourteen when he
came home
again; but he’d remembered it clearly. Apparently he’d been packed off
to his
aunt or something and spent all the time while his dad was away in the
company
of five women. They gave him a really bad time and treated him like a
slave; they
used to beat him horribly.”
“They
sound like really sensible women if you ask me”
was Jacqueline’s response to this.
Deborah
continued regardless. “Granddad used to talk
about it all the time. I used to get quite stimulated by the story and
I think
he could tell. It had changed his life when his dad came home.
Apparently the
women had hidden all the letters his dad had sent; but great granddad
found
out, threw them all out of the house, looked after him, got him an
education and
everything and made it alright again.”
Just
then slave came in with the next course. While he
was leaning across me to put the fruit bowl on the table he very
discreetly
whispered into my ear.
“I beg
your pardon mistress but might we have a word
out in the kitchen”.
Oh what
now I thought? What’s wrong this time, we had
this all scrupulously planned? Why can’t I just leave things to someone
else
without having to be disturbed? If this is not important, he’s for it.
So I followed
him out to the kitchen with a simple and impatient “excuse me” to my
fiends.
“What’s
all this about slave, it had better be good?”
I was angry and not afraid to show it in front of the chauffer who was
sitting
at the kitchen table with his back to me.
The
chauffer stood up and turned around.
“Hello
Kimberley” he said, “remember me?” He looked
vaguely familiar but I had not the slightest idea who he was.
“And
did you not realise that the person you are referring
to as slave is Thomas Preston,” he continued? “You do remember Thomas
Preston
don’t you?”
I was
flabbergasted. I knew Tom Preston ages ago but
he was bearded back then and nowhere near as good looking or toned as
slave; in
fact that body had been flabby by comparison. No wonder I did not
recognise
him. He had been a teacher at my school and also the scout master when
I was
the guide mistress. I knew slave had reminded me of somebody but had
not
thought back that far to make the connection. Damn it, I had not wanted
to know
his name. This was not going to alter our current relationship though I
determined.
But who
was this chauffer; I had no idea? Without his
cap he looked younger than I’d thought yet he must be going back a
while if he
knew Tom, so when I knew him he must have been very young; a boy scout
perhaps?
“Yes I
remember Tom Preston from way back,” I offered,
“he was the scout master; but I don’t think I can quite place you.”
“Oh I
recognised Thomas as soon as I arrived,” the
chauffer continued. “I was barely a teenager back then when we last
met; but I
could not forget him. Neither could I ever forget you in fact
Kimberley, our
association back then made a big imprint on my life.”
I
thought back, when was the last time I had seen Tom
Preston? Then it dawned on me. The chauffeur must be that dirty little
voyeur
of a boy scout we punished together for peaking up guide’s skirts. But
what was
his name? Was there to be no end to the revelations that this day
brings?
“Thomas
has been telling me all about the little party
you’ve got going here and his part in it.” The chauffer continued still
not giving
anything away as to his name; but did that really matter?
“The
thing is Kimberley; I’d quite like to play as
well. I would need to ask permission of my mistress Jacqueline of
course; but I
think that if you agree, she will as well.”
I had
to compose myself. I was totally dumbfounded.
How could I keep control of circumstances like these that come right
out of the
blue; with past friends that have become raving sado-masochists in one
room
eating at my table and old acquaintances that, as it turns out, are
just the
same eating in the kitchen?
Attack,
that’s what I’ll do. It’s always the best
defence when faced with a situation like this.
“Well
you’d better get those clothes off like your
friend here hadn’t you? Come on strip naked, this instant”.
I was
pleased with myself; I had not even missed a
heartbeat between being on the defensive and to being able to give out
orders
convincingly. “How dare you assume to be fully clothed and wearing
those
ridiculous jodhpurs when only the fairer and more superior sex are
permitted the
privilege of modesty in this household.” I was beginning to enjoy
myself again
using the opportunity to redress some of my niggling gripes. “And don’t
worry
about your mistress; Jacqueline will do as I say, I’m Queen around
here.”
A smile
came over the chauffer’s face. Then he quickly
thought better of it and corrected himself. He feigned submission,
dropped his
chin and cast his eyes down and began to unbutton his jacket with a
contrite “Yes
mistress”.
“Like
slave here you will not have a name” I continued,
letting me off the hook nicely. “We will just call you driver. Slave
you’ll
find a pinafore for driver in the second drawer down. You’ll also find
a dog
collar in the garage and other devices he could wear. The Viagra is in
that
cabinet, he’s quite a bit younger than you so he probably won’t need it
but
give him two just the same. You know what I expect from my subjects;
prepare him
and bring him in with the next course; he can carry the cheeseboard
while you
wheel the liqueur trolley. And you’d better make sure that he’s ready
for us or
you’re the one that gets it. Understand?”
This
was turning out alright. I decided not to disclose
any of this to Jacqueline and when driver gets marched into the room as
a
companion to slave, naked and submissive, my total dominance over all
the men
in our company will have been demonstrated and her hubris well
deflated. I am
queen bee around here.
I was
still grinning when I got back to the table. An
active discussion was taking place, mostly between Elaine and
Jacqueline, about
the differences between punishing men and women. Elaine was quite
ambivalent
about taking a stout cane to a man’s bare rump, but Jacqueline wouldn’t
have it
any other way. Apparently the reverse was true if the gender was
changed.
Just to
add controversy, and to bring the conversation
back to my still unanswered question to Jacqueline, I asked who amongst
us had been
on the receiving end of a sound thrashing and whether or not they had
enjoyed
it. Deborah of course had received many at the hands of Elaine and
others that
she was keen to describe. Elaine had also had her fair share of
punishment and
not just from Deborah, this surprised me. She described a session that
had
taken place in one of the S&M clubs of Manhattan in front of an
audience of
sixty or so strangers. She described the skill of the dominatrix and
how it had
left her gasping at the end and feeling so horny that she and Deborah
had
locked themselves away in a hotel room for three days of hot sex and
did not
get to see most of the sights of New York they had planned. I described
some of
my experiences, particularly those when I was much younger; experiences
that
had stimulated me and set me along the CP path in the first place.
Everybody was
eager to describe their stories. Monica listened with fascination keen
to
interject with questions about what it was like and if it was terribly
painful;
but all the while Jacqueline was conspicuously quiet.
I was
going to put her on the spot again and ask her
outright if she had ever felt the thrill of a good thrashing when,
foiled
again, this time slave marched in with the liqueur trolley leading
driver in by
a dog chain attached to a ring pierced through the tip of his erect
penis. The
ring must have already been in place as I could not have imagined
driver
submitting to having his penis pierced by slave there and then in the
kitchen.
Other than a dog collar, ankle and wrist cuffs, driver like slave was
completely
naked.
A gasp
went up, then nervous giggling and in the end
everyone, including me, was applauding and cheering the sheer audacity
of this
entrance; everybody but Jacqueline that is who wore a face of thunder.
I had
achieved the spectacular reveal I had intended and all because slave
had taken
the initiative when preparing driver to realise the dramatic effect it
would
have by, very effectively, using the attribute of his piercing.
I was
waiting for the clamour to subside before I said
anything about how driver came to be taking part when Deborah squealed
out, “It’s
Robin; oh look Ely, it’s Rob from New York!”
Yes
that was his name Robin, but I still could not
remember his last name, and of course these two would have known him.
They were
the ones that had caused him to be dealt with by Tom and me all those
years
ago. But I didn’t know what she meant about New York.
“That’s
enough now Deborah please; slaves do not have
names under my control, please remember that. He will be known just as
driver.”
I was quick to take control.
“What I
want to know is how come my chauffer is being
dragged in bollock naked and being paraded for us all to see on the end
a dog
leash?” Jacqueline was indignant and wanted everyone to share her
indignation. “I
did not agree to this; I don’t even remember being asked. Foster, what
is the
meaning of this?”
There
it was out, Robin Foster, that was his name. I
recalled then the phenomenal beating he had received back then at our
hands. He
was now looking at me open mouthed wondering what to say. I had
promised him I
would agree this with Jacqueline. It was time for me to be strong
again; I was
not afraid of Jacqueline and this was my opportunity to turn the tables.
“Are
you going to take his place then Jacqueline,” I
countered, “for it’s either your driver or you? There are too many doms
here
and not enough subs to go around. Besides, don’t be a spoil sport, the
more
subs we have the more fun we will have. Let him play.”
“Why
don’t they both become subs?” Elaine added, she obviously
wanted to take Jacqueline down as much as I did and probably wanted to
get her
own back for her treatment of Deborah.
“Oh
that’s a good idea” Deborah supported her “I don’t
want to have the only female’s bum here getting spanked.”
“What
do you think Monica,” I asked, might as well get
the full house in agreement, “would you like to see Jacqueline bending
over
having her bare bottom spanked along with slave, driver and Deborah?”
“Yes, I think I
would.” Monica was warm to the idea as well. Her eyes gleamed with
girlish
curiosity. “I’d like to watch while someone less consenting is caned.
That
would be like a real punishment wouldn’t it; like in a prison or at a
reform
school or something? I think I’d find that very exciting.”
“There
you are you see Jacqueline; everyone wants
what’s best for you.” I had my way; Jacqueline was indignant though and
having
none of it. She tried to wriggle away.
“Come
on Foster, get dressed we’re getting out of
here.”
But
then driver, either feeling rebellious and strengthened
by the numbers or fed up with his mistress’s treatment of him and
finally
getting his own back said:
“Well
you’ll have to drive yourself home in that case,
because I’m not leaving. Are you alright handling a Bentley
Continental?
They’re quite heavy you know and very powerful; a bit like driving the
Batmobile if you’re not used to it.”
“You
just wait ‘till I get you home; you’re really for
it now.” She was totally deflated.
Oh
dear, poor Jacqueline, what would she do now with
no one on her side? Driver and I both knew she would never attempt to
drive
that car the one hundred or so miles back to her house.
Part
3
We were
all fired up eagerly anticipating the judicial
punishment of Jacqueline. Slave and driver had both been ordered to
take her
out and prepare her while the rest of us made arrangements to furnish,
as near
as we could, a suitable theatre for her punishment. We had thought
about
various rooms available in the house and had decided that the chill of
the
conservatory would contribute to her feeling of vulnerability; also it
was
almost empty and the ceiling was high so there was plenty of space, as
it were,
to swing a cat. Everyone had contributed and come up with ideas; the
cruelty of
some of the suggestions spoke volumes about the way we all felt about
Jacqueline. A formidable looking whipping bench had been constructed
from a
wooden trestle with a fat leather cushion fastened around the
horizontal bar; I
had plenty of ankle and wrist cuffs available to attach to the uprights
so, no
matter how violently she might wriggle, her body would be held firmly
in place.
This
was not going to be an easy first experience for
Jacqueline. We had all agreed that she deserved judicial punishment; a
mild or
erotic spanking would be wasted on someone as hard and as embittered as
her. A
severe caning with one of my dragon canes was considered appropriate
but we had
agonised about which of us should administer it. To settle things it
was
decided that each of us would deliver ten strokes apiece; the boys
would be
left out of the squad but would be allowed to watch. Forty strokes for
a first
timer would be a rude introduction to masochism; whether or not she
enjoyed it
was immaterial but it would certainly help her to decide if she did.
After
his stunt with driver and the penis ring I had
the feeling that slave would make a good theatrical job of Jacqueline’s
entrance;
I was not disappointed. We first became aware of a slow drumbeat from
somewhere
at the back of the house. I knew that in amongst the discarded
paraphernalia of
my junk room there was an old drum from when I did props for Les
Misereables,
slave must have found it. I had already admonished him for rooting
around in my
house; this was something else to add to his punishment list; but I had
to
admire his initiative.
Gradually
the drumbeat got louder and the grim
entourage solemnly entered the conservatory, driver leading with the
drum. They
were all dressed in costumes also rooted out from the Les Misereables
wardrobe,
Jacqueline included. Slave and driver had both donned loose trousers
with
waistcoats and peasant caps. Slave was leading a struggling Jacqueline;
she was
not acting, by a heavy rope tied to her wrists. She was covered head to
toe in
a deep crimson cape that covered her head with a hood; but as she was
dragged
forward it opened at the waist and you could see that she was naked
underneath.
This apparent group of eighteenth century French proletariat arrived
with due
solemnity at the trestle, the drum was put down, the fastening at the
neck of
the crimson gown was undone and, with an overtly exaggerated flourish,
in one
movement the mantle was removed from around Jacqueline’s shoulders. She
stood
naked as the day she was born, shivering and trembling.
Seeing
her like this you could understand why so many
husbands had fallen for her; she was lovely. Her skin was bright and
pale and
her body was well proportioned with not one ounce of fat although her
limbs
were well toned and muscled. Apart from her shivering she now seemed
more resigned
to her fate and her struggling had turned to a look of reluctant
acceptance. Gone
was her haughty demeanour, her posture now resembled that of a
frightened girl
waiting outside the headmaster’s office. Whether from the cold or from
excitement her nipples were extended on her firm breasts, her trembling
caused
her legs to shake and this sent a tantalising ripple through her soft
buttocks.
It was a joy to see Jacqueline humbled in such a way and, had it been
anyone
else, I would have felt quite sorry for her.
I
glanced over to see how Monica was taking all this;
she was in an acute state of sexual arousal already. Her eyes were
hungrily
devouring every inch of Jacqueline’s body feasting on her nudity and
the vulnerability
of one awaiting a severe taste of the judicial rod. I wondered if she
was
imagining what it felt like to be the victim like that. She stood with
her legs
crossed, repeatedly pressing one against the other and had her hands
joined at
the front. I could make out that two of her fingers were delving
between her
legs and pressing there in time with the movement of her legs.
Driver
took great pleasure in leading Jacqueline to
the trestle. No doubt while having been employed by this particular
mistress he
had been treated in the same way that she had treated all the men in
her life,
like a recalcitrant dog, and now he was keen to get his revenge. He was
still
respectful in the way that he untied her hands but then, from above her
elbows,
he pulled both her arms behind her back thrusting her breasts forward
even more.
He paused like that turning her body for us all to see then lent her
forward
forcibly stretching her belly first against the leather bolster. Slave
was
ready at her legs with straps to secure them to the trestle and then
her arms
were secured at the wrist while driver pulled a wide strap around to
tighten at
her waist. Jacqueline was now totally powerless, defenceless and
vulnerable to
the severe chastisement that awaited her.
Slave
handed me a hand crafted paper scroll, he had
even mocked up an antique proclamation; was there no end to this man’s
talents
and imagination. With due ceremony I unrolled it and read it out to the
group:
“Jacqueline,
you have been found
guilty by the assembled court of arrogance, haughtiness, superbia,
hubris and
snobbery. There can be found no place within this society for behaviour
of this
kind and you must be humiliated before us all.
You
have been sentenced to a public
flogging, to wit strokes of a judicial cane administered hard upon your
naked
buttocks. It is the decision of this court that each woman present will
deliver
ten such strokes until the sentence is complete.
Let
the punishment begin.”
Jacqueline
began to protest in earnest, saying that
she had gone along with this ridiculous charade so far but the whole
thing must
end now, immediately; that a lady in her position should not be subject
to the
childish whims of raving lunatics. She pleaded with us as friends not
to be so
stupid and to consider the years that we had known each other, for, if
we were
to go through with this nonsense it would be the end of it, she hoped
we
realised that our friendship would end here and now.
No one
really took any notice of her, we just let her
rant.
Days
ago when I had been organising this little
soiree, the last thing I would have expected was that I would be giving
Jacqueline a damn good thrashing. But here I was and, as it turned out,
I had
wanted this opportunity all afternoon. Neither would I have expected to
discover that all these people that I had known for so long were of the
same
mind as me and had also been sharing my enthusiasm for CP for all that
time; this
that I had chosen to hide from the outside world and had only now been
inclined
to reveal that my true nature held the desire to cause pain and subject
my
fellow humans to shame and degradation.
Was it
serendipity that had brought us all together
this evening I wondered? Or was it just my act of admission, the truth
of my
dark nature that had caused the truth within us all to be revealed? Had
I not
seen slave’s advertisement in the blog that day and not driven to the
car park
expecting him to be there, how different would this party have been
then? Would
it have been just like any other, five girls getting together for a few
drinks
and to reminisce about old times? What part did serendipity play and
indeed
what part did slave play in placing his ad in the first place? That
slave
should also turn out to be Thomas Preston from all those years back
that had composed
the ad at that particular time and entered it on that particular blog
that I happened
to read and, when I had seen it, had become so tantalised that I had
gone to the
car park eager for it to be true. These thoughts all went through my
mind; but
right now here were a pair of beautiful bare buttocks to thrash. As the
host, I
was to go first.
I
selected the dragon cane. This was my favourite and
the one I had used on slave earlier. I was keen that Jacqueline should
experience
a good sound thrashing so I prepared carefully, lining up the shot and
taking
aim. As a keen tennis player I am confident of my accuracy and I wanted
the
first stroke to go straight to the most sensitive part of a girl’s
bottom, the
underside just above where bottom meets thigh. Jacqueline had abundant
flesh
just there and it hung heavy and succulent from her position on the
bench.
I brought the
cane back over my shoulder, summoned the strength from my whole core
and
powered forth. The rod sizzled through the air and came to a jolt as it
hit
bang on target sending a judder up my arm and throwing Jacqueline
forward on
the trestle. Jacqueline let out a stifled grunt and then, “Oh no, oh my
God” as
the pain took hold and began to build. I knew what a stroke like that
from this
cane felt like. At first only the force of impact is apparent and then,
from
way down deep inside, a flame begins that quickly burns and turns
unbearable.
Very soon it fills the entire muscle. This is what Jacqueline was
beginning to
experience now. I allowed some time for the extent of the pain to
become
obvious then powered down with another equally as ferocious and just a
few
centimetres above the first.
“Oh
please no, I just can’t take this” was
Jacqueline’s response. She would have to because I was not intending to
be
lenient with her. I knew that she was doing her utmost to endure the
pain and
that, most likely, she would be able to stem it for four or five
strokes; but
after that the pain from just the first stroke would be reaching its
unbearable
climax and, with the others still building, it would cause her to be
crying and
pleading for it to stop. I kept up the delivery in the same way with
maximum
force, slowly making my way, with a pause between each stroke, up the
soft skin
of her bare behind.
As
expected at the fifth stroke she let out an ear
splitting wail and began gyrating within her bonds. This was the effect
that I
wanted and I began to feel the exhilaration of the pleasure that I
crave. There
were still five more delicious strokes to go that I would enjoy
immensely. I
had now filled the entire area of her lower bottom cheeks with stripes.
She
coloured easily and these marks stood out deep red and livid against
her pale
skin. A technique that I have learned to maximise the effect of the
pain is to
start at the extremities of the area and work towards the centre. This
will
concentrate the pain into one excruciating area of fire right across
the crown.
This was how I intended to proceed by now aiming the stroke at the top,
just
where the dividing cleft begins, and moving down to meet the stripes
from
below.
The
sixth stroke hit exactly where I had intended and
Jacqueline continued to scream and gyrate to my complete satisfaction.
I looked
forward to when I could watch her face as then I would be able see it
contorting in pain; but for now I was quite content to see her buttocks
quivering and the involuntary spasms of her groin muscles as the
strokes landed.
I
continued until her meaty globes were all very
swollen and almost every inch of skin had been marked; just one strip
of
whiteness remained on the very crown and this too was about to be
filled with
excruciating pain and a blazing swelling. I put everything I had into
this last
stroke and whacked it down to complete the ten.
Jacqueline
was beside herself in her contortions and
struggling. She was crying bitterly and her head was moving this way
and that in
her efforts to come to terms with the pain. I took her hair in one hand
and
pulled her head back to see her face. Tears stained her cheeks and
streaked
down from where the eye makeup had run and her pretty mouth was a
grimace of
agony.
“So did
you enjoy that my little sweetie?” I asked,
“Because I did? You’ve plenty more to come yet you know, we’re only a
quarter
of the way through.”
Elaine
was the next to star. We had decided that she
and I had the most experience with a cane, so we should go first to
ensure that
the punishment was meted out effectively from the start. Elaine had a
score to
settle with Jacqueline for her cruelty to Deborah. She was itching to
get
started, psyching herself up, stomping around and swishing the cane
through the
air to build up her aggression. I had not seen her at work before with
a cane
and was curious about her technique. Once she was fired up and ready
she took
Deborah in her arms and kissed her passionately. I just made out as she
whispered to her “This is for you darling,” and then she took up her
stance.
Elaine
looked formidable as she stood there cane in
hand. Once again I almost took pity on Jacqueline as I watched her
weeping and
bound to the bench unable to do anything to prevent the treatment she
was being
forced to endure.
Unlike
my caning technique that started from a static
position from over my shoulder, Elaine’s involved taking aim then
drawing the
cane back to gather momentum before swooshing it down onto the spot she
had
aimed for. The power of such a stroke must have been phenomenal; it
certainly
had an effect on Jacqueline. Her gyrating had just about ceased
immediately
before but now, with renewed energy and desperation, she almost lifted
the
bench off the ground her movement was so frenzied.
From my
place at the head of the bench I watched her
face; the look of pure agony she gave was pitiful. Her lips came back,
her
mouth opened to let out a gurgling moan, her eyebrows curled up at the
centre
and her eyes took on a blank unfocussed expression. The cane’s movement
through
the air caused a draught that I could feel at my end and the energy of
its
impact shook the whole floor. I saw Jacqueline’s hips rise up, the
shudder moved
down her body to her shoulders; her back arched pulling against the
waist strap
exposing her wobbling full breasts and dark nipples. Her arms and legs
kicked
and pulled at the bonds and her fists opened and closed as she clamped
tightly
around the bar of the trestle.
I was
feeling so aroused by this provocative display and
looked around to see how the others were reacting. Monica and Deborah
both
appeared in rapture. They had become quite fond of each other during
the
afternoon and were now arm in arm spellbound, watching wide eyed and
open
mouthed as the thrashing commenced. Slave and driver were either side
of Elaine
further back. Slave still wore his enigmatic smile and stood ram rod
straight,
every bit of him; I could make out the bulge in his baggy trousers.
Driver too
was in the same state but his arousal was much easier to discern, not
having
slave’s boot lace binding to keep his cock upright, it stuck straight
out from
the front of his pants. This party could end in some serious sex; I
could
hardly wait to get slave’s meat inside me.
Elaine
was about to deliver her last stroke of ten.
Jacqueline, exhausted from her convulsions, had momentarily ceased her
gyrations but she still wept bitterly. No one moved or hardly breathed,
a
silence fell upon the room. I noticed the look of concentrated effort
as Elaine
lined up the shot for her distinctive swept back technique; her body
was moist
with perspiration. Then it came, howling through the air and landing
with an
almighty crack. Jacqueline’s body convulsed and a desperate sustained
cry left
her lips. Elaine through down the cane exhausted.
I went
around the back to see the condition that
Jacqueline’s buttocks were in now. This recent set of ten had all
landed on the
group that I had laid down and caused nasty looking purple wheels. The
cheeks
were now very swollen and lumpy. Another ten, let alone twenty, on top
of these
would certainly cause the skin to break. I was not sure that we wanted
to go so
far as to cause permanent damage; but it was important that Jacqueline
became
emotionally as well as physically submissive so we would let her
believe she
had the same to endure again. I called for a break.
We left
Jacqueline secured to the bench contemplating
more to come while slave got more champagne. Monica needed a cigarette
and I
decided to go with her to get some air. As she lit up I asked her how
she felt
about the way things were going. She declared that it was one of the
most
stimulating afternoons she had ever spent. Prior to today, she had
never
thought that things like this went on and yet here were some of her
oldest
friends practising it regularly. She also said that she had become
intrigued
about what it felt like to be thrashed as Jacqueline had.
“Can I
suggest something?” she asked. “I don’t think I
would be very good with a cane, I’m not good at racket sports or
anything; I
don’t have the eye to hand co-ordination or something. Instead of me
giving
Jacqueline ten strokes, do you think I could receive them in her place?
I mean
exactly the same, tied down and everything, naked. Perhaps you could
gave me
five, like you just did, and I could get five from Elaine as well. What
do you
think?”
I’d had
the feeling that Monica was going to suggest
this. I’d been watching her and I’d seen the way she’d become aroused
when
Jacqueline had been marched in.
“Of
course you can” I wanted to re-assure her that it
was not such a strange request. “I’m sure that you’ll find it
exceptionally
exhilarating. We’ll announce it when we get back.”
She had
finished her smoke so we went back in. Back in
the house we could hear Jacqueline moaning and panting. This was a
different
noise to her crying of earlier and we wondered what was going on. The
conservatory was empty except for Jacqueline still tied to the bench
and on her
back, thrusting away doggy style, driver was humping the living
daylights out
of her. Contrary to what I would have expected, Jacqueline was not
objecting in
the slightest. The look of agony had left her face and been replaced
with one
of sheer joy and pleasure. She was moaning and crying out with all the
usual
things “yes, yes” and “more, please, more” even “fuck me, harder, yes
fuck me,
harder, harder” and totally oblivious to our entrance.
Driver
was enjoying himself as well.
“Excuse
us” he shouted between breaths; “we’ll just be
a little while longer, then you can have her back.”
We
decided to leave them to it and Monica and I went
back into the lounge. There slave was clearing the table. The sight of
him bending
to load the dishwasher in the kitchen with his scourged backside in the
air
filled me with yearnings and I had the uncontrollable desire to get his
dick
inside me there and then. I assumed from all her talk about sexual
intrigue and
wanting to suffer like Jacqueline, Monica felt the same. Time for a
nice ménage
a trois I thought. I winked at Monica and she quickly understood what I
was
intending.
We led
slave back into the lounge and pushed him down
onto the couch. We forced his arms over his head and Monica, having
hitched up
her skirt, straddled him pinning his wrists down with her feet and
sitting on
his face. I pulled off my leather pants, straddled his hips facing
Monica and
then worked away at the boot strap, undoing it and releasing his
gorgeous penis.
Monica looked on eagerly. After everything that had gone on this
afternoon, the
Viagra, the genital clamp and penis ring, slave must have been
desperate for
some relief. I undid the clamp; Monica leant forward and moistened his
helmet
with her tongue, then slid off the ring. My vagina was so wet; it had
been all
afternoon if the truth be known, that I eased my hips up down onto his
organ in
one delicious movement. It was so good that I paused like that allowing
the
feeling of being filled with his cock so completely to engulf me.
Monica
had eased herself up from his face and now his
tongue was eagerly lapping away at her clitoris; she was moaning in
ecstasy.
Seeing her in such rapture I longed to stroke her body, so I urgently
pulled at
her top and removed it over her shoulders and slid off her bra. Her
breasts
were full and the nipples stood up like little acorns. I fingered them,
squeezed them, my hands were all over them. I began to ride slave’s
cock
enjoying its hardness and solidity as it moved within me. I kissed
Monica, a
full wet kiss; I covered her lips with mine. Our tongues lapped at each
other
tasting the sap from our mouths and all the while slave’s pillar of
iron was
thrusting rhythmically deep into me. I began to orgasm, far too
quickly, an
explosion of sensitivity that shook my very soul to its core. I let it
in to
overpower and fill me completely.
I
changed places with Monica, clumsily and urgently.
Slave’s organ was still ram rod straight, doing its duty for both of
us.
Monica, much more slowly and controlled than I had been, cautiously
allowed
herself to become impaled, gasping as she went down. As soon as I got
settled I
felt slave’s tongue exploring my vagina, drinking the juices that still
flowed.
I had the impulse to become totally naked so I tore the clothes from my
back,
ripping another lovely silk blouse in the process. Oh slave you really
are a
disaster to a girl’s wardrobe. Monica was riding slave at a trot with
her eyes
closed and her hands sought out my breasts. The contact was a spark
that caused
an electromagnetic current to flow through us and it drew us together.
We moved
like that, tongue to cleft, hand to breast, vulva to abdomen and were
one in
our ecstasy. After a long while Monica and slave climaxed together with
explosive force and became totally satisfied.
After a
quick wash and change I returned to the
conservatory to get things moving again while slave and Monica sought
out the Jacuzzi
together. Deborah, Elaine and driver were waiting for me; I explained
that
slave and Monica would be a while and that we should get started.
Jacqueline
was still tied to the bench looking tired and very dishevelled and
Deborah was
now keen to get to work on her again. She and Elaine had also been
enjoying
each other along with everyone else and they were both fired up by
their
stimulation and anxious for a bare bottom to thrash. Deborah selected a
different thinner cane from the bunch and swished it through the air a
few
times enjoying the sound it made.
“Now
you’re really going to feel what a good thrashing
is about Jacqueline” she calmly announced. “I actually enjoy the feel
of a good
cane wrapped around my bare cheeks; but I’m not so sure that you do.
The caning
you gave me earlier was cruel; this is going to show you how it can be
both
stimulating and exciting.”
It is
always a treat to watch someone more familiar
with receiving rather than administering, give a caning. Their
experience has
given them an acute understanding of the effect of the suffering and
they will
be inclined towards controlling the punishment with greater awareness.
This was
lost on Jacqueline though of course; she just knew that she was going
to get
more punishment, became agitated and it set her off complaining and
frantically
pulling at her bonds again.
Deborah
wasted no time in getting down to action. She
started with some sharp stinging flicking strokes all around the same
spot just
where buttock and thigh meet. This got Jacqueline’s legs wriggling and
the
muscles on the insides of her thighs twitching. Soon a livid purple
stripe
appeared at the top of her thighs just where the wand had repeatedly
landed.
Then, by way of stimulating her victim, Deborah pressed the last few
centimetres of the cane against the lips of her sex and gently massaged
slightly up and down. Jacqueline began to calm and then began moaning.
Just
when Jacqueline appeared to be enjoying what was being done to her
Deborah
quickly and viciously swiped the cane down onto the livid purple
stripe. This
caused further convulsions from Jacqueline and the uttering of a deep
animalistic groan. Once again the cane was used to massage, kiss and
caress the
lips to her sex and clitoris and once more Jacqueline was taken to a
state of
euphoria and then another vicious stroke would be laid on. By using
these
alternate repetitions of pain and pleasure Deborah carefully and
expertly
brought Jacqueline to a state of extreme sexuality. Soon she was
screaming out
for satisfaction.
“Fuck
me; oh please will somebody just fuck me.” This
she was crying over and over again.
Deborah
took no notice and continued to just play with
her; tickling her lips and clitoris with the cane then cruelly swishing
it down
on her now very tender skin. After a good while of this and much
obscene
begging from Jacqueline, driver came forward, gestured to Deborah to
let him
through and then mounted Jacqueline as he had before. Except this time,
rather
than going in to her vagina, her thrust forcibly down into her anus.
“Oh my
God” Jacqueline cried out and let forth and ear
splitting howl as driver thrust deeper and deeper. Soon he was going at
it like
a steam engine, his hands squeezing and pinching at her punished cheeks
and all
the while Jacqueline screamed and howled like a banshee. Elaine,
Deborah and I
looked on eager to watch Jacqueline’s suffering until eventually driver
climaxed.
After
that we released Jacqueline from the trestle and
driver carried her off to the Jacuzzi to help her recover.
Meanwhile
slave, who had returned with Monica during
driver’s performance, was preparing her for her debut on the bench. She
had
told slave of her desire to be punished and, while still out of the
room, he
had stripped her, bound her wrists and she was currently naked and
being secured
with her arms over her head to one of the conservatory’s rafters to
anticipate
the judicial thrashing she was about to receive.
Seeing
her strung up like that with her body gently shivering,
whether from the chill in the conservatory or from her nervousness was
difficult to tell; I could not help trying to imagine what was going
through
her mind. From her expression when Deborah had been cruelly punished
and then
watching her reaction when Jacqueline had been led in to the beat of a
drum, it
was clear that Monica had been sexually aroused by the acts or corporal
punishment going on around. I tried to recall what I had felt
immediately prior
to my first time under the rod and I was certainly aware of what the
rush of
adrenalin coursing through my veins felt like. Monica was about to
suffer a
good judicial thrashing as her first experience as if she had been
sentenced by
some court in a primitive land to a frighteningly unknown experience
and the
inevitability of that ruling had already begun. The adrenalin must be
rushing
through her at a phenomenal rate. I noticed the staccato way that her
eyes
darted between each of us gazing at her. Her expression was one of
terror but
underneath her sexuality also shone through. Her lips were full and
moist, her
nipples stood up firm against her heaving breasts moving rapidly with
each
breath. Her bare legs were crossed seductively accentuating the
roundness of
her hips and her clipped pubic hair was moist at the centre of the
bikini trim.
I
noticed slave regarding her in an admiring way. Gone
was his enigmatic smile, replaced with a more serious expression that
spoke of
pride. After the ménage a trois between me, Monica and him and their
subsequent
time in the Jacuzzi, something had changed in their mutual respect.
Monica,
inexperienced in the ways of domination, had never treated slave in the
same
way that Jacqueline and I had; but this was a difference in the way
that he
allowed himself to be treated by her. His behaviour to all of us up
until then
had been in the character of a slave but his care for her was not the
act of a submissive.
This was genuine caring and it was attractive; I began to see slave in
a new
way, that of a very charming person.
I felt
that I wanted to encourage this relationship; I
owed it to them both. I had been the cause of Monica’s awakening to CP
and I
wanted her to have a considerate and experienced master. Tom Preston,
all those
years ago in the way that he had so skilfully punished Robin Foster the
boy-scout, had inspired me to practice this art and I knew that, with
CP, he
would be able to take Monica to the realms of satisfaction that I
supposed she
desired.
I spoke
up in the same tone that I had used earlier
when reading the proclamation.
“Monica
has expressed her desire to be punished and to
take the place of Jacqueline for ten of her strokes. She has suggested
that I
should deliver five and that Elaine should do the same.”
Monica,
realising that her punishment was imminent,
uncrossed her legs and her breathing became faster.
“In the same
way that she generously wishes to share Jacqueline’s suffering, I wish
to share
my pleasure by offering that slave take my place to deliver those
strokes.”
With
the knowledge that she was about to suffer at the
strong hands of a virile man, Monica let out a gasp and became
agitated. I
continued with my speech.
“I have
had the pleasure of watching slave at work
with a cane in his persona as Thomas Preston the scout master. This was
many
years ago and, believe me, back then his skill was phenomenal. I am
sure that
over the years he will have honed that skill to become a true
cane-master.”
Monica
was beside herself and now visibly trembling at
what was to come.
“So
take her to the bench, secure her firmly and let
the punishment begin.”
Slave
showed surprise at me granting him this
privilege but accepted the bestowed responsibility in good grace and
released
Monica from the rafter in his usual courteous way. Elaine and Deborah
gently
coaxed her to the bench. There was none of the brutality as when
Jacqueline had
been forced down; they handled her with respect as they soothed and
comforted
her into position but secured her firmly nevertheless. Slave examined
the canes
being very careful with his selected choice. He held each one out and
looked
along its length, measured its weight and bent it double before
swishing it
through the air to test its flexibility. He settled for one, not one I
would
have expected him to choose that was shorter than the others, perfectly
straight and all the knuckles had been filed down so it was perfectly
smooth. It
was also younger than most and somewhat greener in colour.
He
observed the same attention to detail when he took
up his position; carefully measuring the distance with the cane in his
outstretched arm to the centre of her two cheeks. He stood to her rear
on the
left hand side ensuring that his swing would come at a perfect
right-angle then
measured one stride forward towards her head. This was clearly an
expert at
work and these preparations had been carefully worked out to maximise
the
impact of his art. When he was ready he looked to me for the signal to
begin
but I suggested that we wait a few more seconds for driver to return as
I could
hear his returning footsteps.
Once we
were all assembled, Elaine, Deborah and I in a
group together at the back and to the right where we could watch the
descending
strokes and with driver further forward watching Monica’s face, the
operation
could begin. Monica was very calm as she lay there with her stomach
pressed
tightly against the leather bolster and her arms pulled forward tied to
the
trestle. The way that her legs were secured behind the knee and
perpendicular
to her body caused the fatty bit of her bottom to hang seductively
above her
thighs. I could not help pondering on how soft and plump it looked,
like the
underbelly of a young partridge, and how harsh it would be to violate
that
perfect form with cruel strokes of a vicious cane.
My
pondering was startled by a sudden rush and a crack
as the cane lashed across it landing so quickly that its movement was
invisible
to the eye.
Monica’s
cheeks quivered but otherwise her reaction
was placid and she just uttered a simple but breathless “Oh!”
My eyes
were fixated to the spot where the cane had
landed as I watched a red stripe appearing there against the paleness
of the
smooth skin. It grew in length and intensity of the redness until it
spanned
the width of both her luscious cheeks and was the colour of port wine.
I was
determined to watch the whole delivery the next
time and pulled my eyes away to see Tom, for that was who it was now
slave
having morphed into the one that had set me on this path so long ago,
preparing
for the next stroke.
He
stood firmly and solidly with his legs astride, a
look of deliberate concentration on his face and his eyes focused on
where the
next stroke would land. His arm was extended as he tapped the tip of
the wand
on the spot for its next painful delivery. Suddenly, as if the urge had
spontaneously grabbed him, he swung back with the same technique that
Elaine
had used earlier and powered forth. He was so fast that it was
difficult to
determine the full range of his movement but the cane whipped back and
landed with
an almighty crack that bedded down deep into Monica’s soft flesh and
bounced
out again.
This
time Monica was more verbal and let out a yelp
like a young puppy that had just had its tale trodden on. Her bum
cheeks trembled,
her ankles wriggled and her head came back, there was a look of sadness
in her
eyes. Another red stripe began to appear a few millimetres below the
previous.
Seeing
those lovely rounded and luscious globes
colouring so gloriously reminded me of the day that Tom had punished
Robin
Foster and how I had become so fascinated at the effect of rattan being
lashed
onto smooth skin that I had wanted to feel it for myself and had used
my young
girl charms to beg him to do it to me. I remembered my surprise at how
intense
the pain had been and how it had filled my entire consciousness. It was
the
totality of that awareness of being devoid of all other sensation that
had me hooked
back then. Monica was no doubt experiencing this right now and I envied
her.
Tom now
moved to Monica’s right hand side and I could
see from his perspective the preparatious cane tapping on the soft
skin. The
tip of the slender wand was as lively as a rattlesnake’s tail.
Those
that can give an effective stroke both from the
left and the right are rare, champion level tennis players are usually
the only
ones. It not only requires ambidexterity but equal strength in either
arms or
accuracy of the backhand serve; I had played tennis with Tom and he had
not
been as good a player as me. I would be very cautious about caning
someone
using my backhand but Tom seemed to have no hesitation. He must have
developed
his skills quite considerably over the years. The speed of delivery was
not
hampered in the least however as, with an angry whoosh and a crack, the
rod
descended and sent Monica’s bum cheeks into a frenzy of rippling, spasm
and
dancing. This time she cried out pitifully and her body squirmed
pulling to the
left but was held back by the wide strap at her waist.
“Oh
please no more, it hurts so much” she cried.
This
was quite a normal reaction from a first timer after
the third stroke; but we all knew that she would have to be taken to a
threshold
of pain much higher than this if she was to experience a buzz from the
kick of
endorphins.
Tom
prepared another stinger from the same side. There
was a whoosh, a crack, more gyrating from Monica; more cries of anguish
and now
four parallel red lines decorated her lovely bottom.
Tom
returned to her left side; but this time made his
preparations from closer to her body, a stride further towards her head
and
with his arm higher. I could tell that he was intending to make the
classic
five bar gate. This is excruciatingly painful as the fifth stroke is
delivered
diagonally across the previous four and, where they cross; the overlap
causes
swelling on top of swelling, pain on top of pain.
It was
hardly surprising that, someone of the skill
and experience of Tom, being limited to just five strokes, would not be
able to
resist maximising the effect of his delivery in this fashion; but poor
Monica
howled and gyrated on the bench when that final bar was set.
She had
been a real trooper submitting to such a
thrashing and I thought we ought to allow her to decide whether or not
to
continue. I knelt down by her head with my arm comforting around her
heaving
shoulders. Although she was panting quite fast I was surprised to see
that she
had shed no tears. I gently asked her if she wanted us to stop now.
“Oh no”
she replied, “I am just getting used to the
pain. I don’t want it to stop; I just need to come to terms with it.”
“There’s
a brave girl”
“Just
give me a few more minutes and then I’ll take
the other five.”
Elaine
was still eager to fulfil Monica’s desires and
now readied herself with the cane. I wondered if she would be as severe
with
her as she had been with Jacqueline.
“Do you
really want this Monica?” Elaine asked.
“Yes”
Monica replied but then, somewhat dubiously,
said “I agreed to ten strokes so just go ahead; do your best.”
Elaine
was doubtful. “I’m not so sure that you do, so
I’m going to put you to the test. Slave, release Monica from the bench.”
Slave
was hesitant at first wondering what Elaine was
scheming; but he had been given a direct order so began undoing the
buckles
that bound Monica to the bench. Monica was also wondering if she had
been let
off or if further torments awaited her. She continued to lie on the
bench
looking at Elaine.
“Now
then, get yourself up and stand here facing me.”
Elaine pointed to a spot just in front of her.
“Sometimes
it is necessary to tie someone down when
punishing them;” Elaine continued, “especially with judicial
punishment. But
ten strokes, even for a first timer like you, can be endured without
the need
for such extreme measures. Schoolgirls throughout history have had to
submit to
much worse than this by recourse only to their will power.”
Monica
was looking intently at Elaine but massaging
her striped bottom at the same time.
“To give you
the benefit of the experience that has befallen many, I intend to treat
you
just like a naughty schoolgirl and continue with your punishment, but
you will
be bent over in classic style touching your toes. Now bend over and
touch your
toes.”
Monica
did as she was told. She was very flexible and
was able to get down easily without effort. Elaine continued, her voice
reminding me of a head mistress from my school days.
“This
is the position you must adopt and you must
maintain it throughout your punishment. You are to receive five strokes
of the
very best and should you deviate from this position in any way, not
only will
the stroke not be counted; you will be awarded an extra to help you in
your
resolve. Do you understand?”
Monica,
realising the significance of what she had
just been told, sighed.
“I said
do you understand?” Elaine’s shout startled
everyone.
Monica
jumped and squeaked out “Yes Miss”.
“Good,
then we shall begin. Brace yourself.”
Elaine
continued with the same swept back technique as
before and the same that Tom had used. Her skill with the cane was
outstanding;
Deborah must have really enjoyed herself over the years being on the
receiving
end. The strokes landed absolutely parallel to Tom’s and just a few
millimetres
apart. Elaine was clearly quite competitive and wanted to demonstrate
that, she
too, could deliver an expert caning, even to the extent of matching the
accuracy of Tom’s five bar gate. Monica managed to remain bent over
nearly all
the way through, her fingertips just hovering over her toes
occasionally,
except that the last stroke was just too much for her to bear and she
shot up
clutching her bottom massaging it furiously.
“What
did I say about retaining position?” Elaine’s
headmistress voice again. “We’ll have that one again I think, plus one
extra.”
“Oh
please Miss, no more.” Monica was hopping around,
massaging as she hopped, tears began to fill her eyes.
“Yes,
you knew what was coming so there’s no excuse.
Now get back down.”
Monica
obeyed, snivelling as her head went down and
her fingers reached for her toes.
I
admired the way that Elaine was treating her giving
her a taste of the severity which headmistresses, throughout history,
have
become renowned for. That degree of severity was maintained as she
prepared to
deliver these extra strokes. The marks on Monica’s bottom formed a very
precise
double five bar gate as though two gates had been laid one on top of
the other slightly
off-set. Elaine was now showing off with her caning skill and was
intending to
form a double cross by laying these strokes from the other side
opposite and
across the diagonals already set.
Monica
was patiently bent over anticipating two more stinging
bites, only the occasional sniff and movement of her shoulders told you
of her
discomfort. Elaine seemed to be taking ages with many practice swings
with her
back hand. Then it came, two strokes in quick succession; swish,
swoosh, that threw
Monica forward to land in a huddle on the floor clutching her backside.
The
poor girl was doubled up in pain and sobbing deeply.
We all
rushed to comfort her; but slave was ready with
a duvet he had taken off one of the beds and he wrapped it lovingly
around her
shoulders. Monica accepted this more than anything else and melted into
his
strong shoulders and began weeping bitterly.
The
party calmed down after that; we were all feeling
the effects of such excessive stimulation. I decided to grant slave his
freedom
to take care of Monica and they retired to the guest bedroom for the
night. Soon
after, Elaine and Deborah who had a long journey to get back to
Brighton made
their move.
Only
Jacqueline and driver remained. I wanted to make
it up to Jacqueline in some way and found her in the kitchen eagerly
eating.
“Gosh I
am so famished I could eat a horse,” she
calmly exclaimed as I walked in. She had found her clothes, tidied
herself up,
re-done her hair and make-up and was behaving as if nothing had just
happened.
This was a good sign as I had expected her to be on the phone to her
lawyer
already preparing the legal proceedings against me.
“Look
Jacqueline” I said, “about just now and what
happened…”
“Oh
darling, don’t worry about it, you did me a favour.”
She had totally recovered, was smiling and had good humour in her
voice.
“I
needed that, perhaps more than I have ever needed
anything. I was thinking about it as I lay in the hot tub. I’ve been a
bitch
all evening, I know I have.”
This
was a change that I did not expect.
“I’ve
become so used to getting my own way that I’d
forgotten what it was like to be normal” she confessed. “Sometimes a
bit of
humility is good for you. You and I are the same; we were next door
neighbours
for heaven’s sake, and I have no right to pretend, not to you. The
thing is
I’ve been pretending for a long time now and, I know it’s made me rich
but it’s
also made me a bitch.
Do you
know something, I have realised that there is
nothing of real meaning in my life?”
“But
you‘re happy enough aren’t you, Jacqueline surely?”
I asked, interrupting her; I didn’t want to listen to meaningful
confessions,
not this time of night, and felt that she was about to launch into a
session of
soul searching.
“No”
she replied “and that’s just the point. I’m
lonely, bored and, most of the time, I feel totally unfulfilled.
Because I’ve
been such a shit to all the men in my life, I don’t think I could have
a decent
relationship, not a proper one, not with a good man anymore. Yet I need
to; I’m
not gay, I know that because I’ve tried and it didn’t work; but I do
like sex,
maybe too much. Sometimes I think I just can’t get enough. How do you
manage,
you’re single and no one else lives here, what do you do?”
Oh
dear, this was not good, I wanted to help Jacqueline
and be a friend to her, still despite everything; but now was not the
time for
a discussion about sexual healing.
“Oh
surely Jacs, I don’t need to tell you how
to get good sex,” I wanted to lighten the conversation; it was getting
just too
intense. ”You told me all about it; don’t you
remember under the covered
awning in your back garden?”
She
smiled at the memory of those days in the school
holidays when we were young.
“Come
on,” I suggested in a girly way and gave her a
friendly nudge, “let’s see where driver has got to and have a bit of
fun with
him. I’m sure you’d like to get your hands on him for what he did to
you and the
way that he let you down earlier.”
“Yes, you bet;
where is that little runt. He’s really for it now I can tell you. Let’s
see
what kind of a mess we can make of his tight little ass. I bags I go
first. Where’s
that dildo you said you had, and that nice stout hairbrush.”
20,052
words
(The End)