Amiga ISO Collection/AmigaDemoCD2.iso/ASCII/TEXTE/SEX/ADULTSHARE/K/KEN-DOM1.TXT

Text File | 1989-06-11 | 16.5 KB | 266 lines

        My  initial  introduction  to  severe  spanking  and   domination
        happened at the hands of a guy named Ted, whom I met through  one
        of the BBSs to which I belong.  Ted is a bright, educated guy, an
        engineer by trade, and a dominant by choice.  We had corresponded
        on  that  board for a long time before he finally came  to  town.
        When  he  announced that he would be here, I could  think  of  no
        excuse  at all to refuse meeting him.  That the session ended  up
        with me nude, face down but raised up over the end of the  couch,
        my  naked  bottom turned towards the ceiling,  my  ankles  pulled
        apart  and tied to each leg of the couch-- in a perfect  position
        to be instructed, that is what I expected in advance.  In fact, I
        had made him promise that when he got me that he would absolutely
        not let me talk him out of giving me a spanking.  I certainly did
        not have to worry about that, as it turned out.

        He took a long time admiring the view, probed here and there with
        his fingers, then found an erect nipple and pinched and  pinched,
        until he made me tell him where the strop was.  It was hanging on
        a  hook on the inside of the door (you hear that, Ken?   Remember
        it for future reference.  You may well want to use it  yourself.)
        He  took  the  strop,  gave it a  few  trial  swings,  and  then,
        TTTHHHWWSWWACK!!!! A murderous, burning swipe across both  cheeks
        of my rump... this followed after a long interval by another, and
        another.   He quickly had me crying for mercy,  for  forgiveness.
        Did I get mercy?  No.  I got a hot oil injection, firmly squirted
        into  my anus by a large, thick, rigid cock.  And  afterwards  I
        was given the privelege to suck it clean.

        Comparing  that  session  to the one I had at  Emily"s  house  is
        difficult  for me, because in a way they were so different.   The
        first one, described above, I always felt in control even  though
        my  hands were fastened behind me.  Any time I really wanted  him
        to  stop,  I think he would have.  At Emily's,  she  (Emily)  was
        fully  in  control,  and  being  another  woman,  had  a   better
        understanding  of what I could take, and resolved, I am sure,  to
        take me all the way there, and beyond.  Now she did not wield the
        crop,  Doris  did.   But  she was in charge  of  the  event,  the
        mistress of ceremonies, so to speak- have no doubt about that.

        When  I was invited (or ordered, if you prefer) there for  a  hen
        party and a dinner, I had no idea what was going to happen.  Lets
        face  it, she and I were no longer  social friends, but I was  in
        no position to refuse, so I duly showed up, suitably dressed  for
        a  social dinner with 8 or 9 women present.  Early on, there  was
        no  obvious  sign  that this was going to  be  different  from  a
        thousand similar parties we both have been to.  An elegant dinner
        was offered, beautifully prepared and served.  Oh yes, Emily does
        do  things correctly, even to the Nth degree.   The  conversation
        was  lively  and intelligent, ranging wide  over  every  possible
        subject.   Later  on,  however,  the  tone  of  the  conversation
        changed,  and  Emily  announced in words  that  I  cannot  really
        remember  that this was a special occasion- that present was  the
        person who had helped break up her marriage, etc, etc.  Everybody
        chimed in at that point, and however it worked  conversationally,
        I  ended  up nude ,with my wrists behind me, tied.  Doris  had  a






        metal  clip that winds through the hair and locks, and to  it,  a
        long cord attached that she tossed over a ceiling beam.  There  I
        stood,  totally  helpless, now very fearful  of  this  particular
        event.   I did not feel that I had any control at all  over  what
        would happen, and considering that Emily was still very angry  at
        me,  I foresaw real problems, and did not have the  feeling  that
        the other ladies present were going to be supportive in the least
        measure.  It's almost funny- Hilde told me later that  Emily  had
        told   the   others  that  there  was  going   to   be   "special
        entertainment" that evening- she had not told me that, but  maybe
        that  was  because I was going to be the  special  entertainment.
        Who  knows what the others were expecting- I am sure that  nobody
        else knew, but I have an idea that Hilde, who really knows  Emily
        the best, had a pretty good idea.  What Doris knew in advance  is
        hard to say.  That one never says much anyway.

        Doris  did  her  particular  specialty  after  blindfolding  me--
        gentle, stimulating caresses of the nipples, guaranteed to arouse
        one  and  erect  those  nipples  no  matter  how  frightened  and
        apprehensive you might be.  And when they were suitably erect,  a
        final  pinch, and then those metal spring clips  attached,  first
        one  and then the other.  And soon enough, her  searching  finger
        between my legs, probes, finds moisture, finds an erecting  clit,
        massages  it  so  that it is standing  fully  at  attention,  and
        another  clip attached to it-- all three together now applying  a
        kind of hideous metallic caress that never stops.

        Try  to understand- I was totally embarrassed,  absolutely  under
        Emily's  control,  and terrified, and at the same  time,  excited
        almost  beyond  belief,  perhaps sexier than I  have  ever  been,
        before or since.  I now knew what to expect- I was going to get a
        total thrashing, specifically for the entertainment of the ladies
        present  (who  had been selected, I am sure for  their  potential
        enjoyment  of that kind of thing).  In the meantime, I have  been
        incredibly  aroused,  and clips attached to  my  most  vulnerable
        points.   My nipples are up as hard as steel, and gripped in  the
        unyielding clasp of the clips, and my clit also has been  aroused
        and  clipped.  I am almost expecting that Emily will  have  Doris
        insert  one of those special suppositories in my anus-  the  kind
        that  makes you think you have a hot iron up there- like she  had
        done  to me before.  No, not this time, though I do not know  why
        not,  and obviously I do not ask.  And finally, I  am  incredibly
        aroused- almost at the point of orgasm- but I do not want to have
        that orgasm.  No, not this way, in front of this audience  (which
        obviously was very interested, and would have applauded wildly).

        Now  Emily is seated comfortably, and asks me for my  version  of
        the relationship with her ex.  I tell her the truth- that we  had
        been  together at a Christmas party, and he kissed me  under  the
        mistletoe,  but  nothing more- that day. " What  about  the  next
        day", she inquires, and I confess that we had done some  juvenile

        petting, with him maybe kissing my titties, and sliding his  hand
        up  under my skirt-- hardly enough for all this to-do right  now.
        She  gives the sign to Doris, and the crop flashes,  whacking  me






        severely across the rump, making me gasp, and making some  unseen
        female  titter.   I  dance, I shake, but I have  nowhere  to  go.
        Again  she asks, and I confess that later I had let him  take  my
        panties down.  That day he gave my pussy a sweet kiss.  At that I
        get a sweet kiss, too- by the crop, again across the rump.  I  am
        really  fearful  now, and crying, begging to be let  go.   Nobody
        will have any of that, and I get another slash with the crop  for
        even asking.  Emily is leading the confessional now- she wants to
        know what happened next- of course, she already knows, that  that
        same day I had taken his cock into my mouth, but nothing more.  I
        admit  that,  get  another shot with the crop for it,  and  I  am
        screaming, practically hysterical now, because I do not know  how
        much farther this is going to go.  I also do not know that  there
        is  a video camera set up, and I am going to be the star  of  the
        film  that is being taken this very minute.  Emily wants to  know
        about his fucking me, and I swear that it never happened.  Nobody
        believes me now, and the punishment continues, worse than I  ever
        got before.  My confession is extracted from me, and by now after
        a dozen or more stokes of that crop, I will confess to  anything,
        and confess I do to seducing him every which way, to fucking  for
        him  vaginally, orally, anally, you name it- she asked me  and  I
        confessed  to it. Almost as an after thought, she had me  confess
        to putting her down in her husband's eye, to claim that she was a
        sexless  thing  and that real joy could only be had from  a  real
        woman (obviously like me).  The ladies thought that this was  the
        ultimate  insult-  this whore badmouthing Emily to him,  a  good,
        innocent  wife.   Innocent, hah!!!).  Somebody suggests  that  my
        mouth be washed out with soap for that- and it is duly done, with
        a  strong laundry soap.  Doris fetched a bar, a large  chunk  was
        broken  off  and  stuffed in my mouth for  fun.   Not  much  fun,
        believe me.

        Now  think about Doris a moment- an attractive black lady,  about
        35-no  education  whatever.  Will she be  interested  in  playing
        executioner today?  Of course.  Perhaps it is a racial thing,  or
        perhaps  the result of unintended slights towards her on my  part
        in  the  past which she has misinterpreted on a  personal  basis.
        Whichever,  she would be delighted to give this  delicious  honky
        bitch a spanking.  Is it in the culture?  I have heard that  give
        a black woman the chance to work over a blonde whore-  especially
        one who has been fucking around with black men, and the thrashing
        will  be  earth shaking. She has worked for Emily  for  years  as
        house  maid, perhaps confidant, and if it turns out that  Charles
        had been fucking her on the side, I wouldn't be a bit  surprised.
        If it is also true that Doris had been servicing Emily in her own
        way-  like  giving her sweet massages and the like-  I  not  only
        would  not  be surprised but am rather sure that this is  so.   I
        don't  think that they had a total bi-relationship, but  I  don't
        know.

        Now  understand the cropping.  I am standing, my hair holding  me
        upright.   Doris  is  an artist with that crop, and  she  has  me
        bobbing  and  dancing,  kicking,  even  leaping,  and   certainly
        screaming.  None of it makes a bit of difference- I am not  going
        anywhere  until  I am released, and that will  certainly  not  be






        until Emily is satisfied.  And you do know Emily.  She is  little
        and  she is cute, but she is very strong and determined, and  she
        WILL  have  her pound of flesh in revenge.  Step onto  her  patch
        only on her terms.  Go beyond that, invade her privacy, take what
        is hers at your peril.  This was the lesson being taught me,  and
        perhaps  being  taught the ladies in the audience.  She  felt  no
        compunction  about giving a whore a thrashing, and I was-  had  I
        not already confessed it?

        And  when  I got the cropping that day- much more severe  by  the
        way,  it  was in part because she really did believe that  I  had
        been fucking her husband (and believes it to this day) and wanted
        my  full confession.  She got it, true or false.  And when I  had
        confessed-  which  was absolutely believed by  the  other  ladies
        present, the consensus was that I was a slut who was getting what
        she  deserved- a comeuppance that tramps deserve but rarely  get.
        The fact that Emily had the pictures and I could not let them get
        out and therefore she owned me- they did not know that.  All they
        knew was that this whoring slut, who had seduced Emily's  husband
        plus who-knows-who else, who might be making an unknown play  for
        the  husband  of  any of the ladies present, she  was  getting  a
        richly  deserved lesson, written on her ass by a  luscious  black
        maid.   The  fact that I look the way I do and sometimes  have  a
        haughty  air did not help.  Take this slut down a peg or  two-you
        know.  The  ladies watched every stroke approvingly,  and  nobody
        protested  that the punishment exceeded the crime.   Later,  when
        either  Emily  or  Doris asked if a  volunteer  might  provide  a
        chocolate  eclair to be served as a special penance, they had  no
        problem  at all getting a volunteer to go to the bathroom and  to
        produce one on one of Emily's fine china plates, to be sure.  And
        who  fed me that eclair, of course using one of Emily's  sterling
        silver dessert spoons?  Doris?  Emily? The volunteer?  I  don't
        know.  You asked how large was that eclair, and I respond that  I
        don't really know.  I remember it as being sufficiently large  to
        do  the task intended- to humiliate me totally in front  of  that
        audience-  who likely would have applauded had it been  twice  as
        large.  All I know is that it was large enough, that I was fed it
        all,  and  was in no position to debate the point- nor  the  tall
        glass  of lemonade which was offered me to wash down  my  special
        treat.  You might ask if any of the others were shocked at  this.
        Well,  they  had seen it happen before their eyes, perhaps  as  a
        logical  extension  of  this  tramp  being  punished  in  Emily's
        particular way, and who would say that she was wrong?   Certainly
        none of them would.

         All  I  know  is  that I had  received  a  cropping-  a  cruelly
        efficient   one   given  under  the  most   exotic   and   erotic
        circumstances  possible,  before a very interested  audience.   I
        know  that Doris had me bobbing and weaving, crying  and  begging
        for forgiveness for a crime that  I did not commit, and if  these
        ladies  in  the  audience had been a jury, I am  sure  that  this
        sentence given me would have been even more extreme.  If  anybody
        had  suggested that they put a brand on my bottom, I  am  certain
        that  the group would have agreed, perhaps unanimously.   And  of
        course,  adding to the overall flavor of the moment is  that  the






        whole  thing  was being videotaped, in full, glorious  color  and
        sound,  for posterity to view.  Crime and Punishment-  or  better
        yet, Crime, Confession, and Punishment-- how's that for a  title.
        It  has  a  sort of Russian Ring to it,  doesn't  it?   Something
        Dostoyevsky might have written.

        I  must point out as an afterthought that what terrified me  most
        during this session, was that one of the women suggest that  they
        shave  off  my  hair-  both on my head  and  pubic.   This  is  a
        particular  punishment  that  now and then  whores  have  gotten,
        especially  in  the  South.  I have no doubt  that  had  it  been
        suggested  that it might well have happened.  Supposing they  had
        given  me the choice- stand there as I was, in the clips, not  to
        be  released  until  I specifically asked  for  THAT  punishment.
        Sooner or later I would have asked.