Archive-name: Bondage/emilhous.txt
Archive-author:
Archive-title: Emily's House
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.
Think of me writing this letter to you. Right now, I am nude,
and after talking to you, have followed your instructions. I
have that large, black rubber dildo inserted in my anus, all 9"
of it. I have retrieved my nipple clip set. I have a clip on
each, very erect nipple, and another one on my clit. My pussy is
creamy. I am just on the verge of orgasm, and I am pretending
that you have told me that I would be severely punished if I let
myself cumm. I am going to disobey deliberately. I am too close
to cumming to hold back, and even if it means that I get a
thrashing, that I get my bottom basted with a leather strop for
being "bad", that is what I am and that is what I deserve.
I am trying to convince you to face up to the beginning of our
meeting- the need for you to take total control and assume full
authority for the session. In order for this to work, it seems
to me that the preliminary part of the session needs to
concentrate on past events- an analysis of past promises made and
not kept, of recent questions asked where answered have been
avoided, or when answered, with inadequate response. In other
words, the student's shortcomings need to be enumerated, and some
suitable form of instruction be offered. In this case, it seems
to me that punishment in some form ABSOLUTELY MUST be the first
part of the program. If not, all else is doomed to fail.
Considering this student, I would suggest that her nudity is
essential to the proceedings. In fact, I can visualize it. You
have ordered her to answer the doorbell totally nude. When you
arrive, instead she is wearing something very provocative,
perhaps a baby-doll and high heels. This is an immediate
violation of her instructions. You step in, see that she has
begun by disobeying. Perhaps you grab her by the hair and spin
her around. Perhaps, you give her a stinging slap in the face, a
lesson that obedience is demanded and that nothing less will be
tolerated. You know that her bedroom is upstairs and that her
"toys" are hidden there. You pull the baby dolls off her,
looking, of course, at her full breasts and erect nipples. You
take each nipple between thumb and forefinger, pinching hard.
You pull off her panties, order her to turn around, gaze at her
delicious, full bottom. You pinch her ass, hard. And now you
order her to lead you up the stairs to the bedroom.
As she climbs the steps before you, her naked bottom undulating
before your eyes, I am sure that you will study it with pleasure,
knowing the joys that it can offer you if it has been properly
prepared and persueded. Perhaps at the moment of truth she will
plead with you, beg you not to spank her-perhaps she will offer
you exotic sex instead. DO NOT ACCEPT THAT OFFER.
If you do, a quick orgasm is all you will get. Insist that the
proceedings go forward, exactly as planned. TAKE COMMAND. Make
her show you where the toys are kept. Make her show you the crop , the tawse, and the cane, all hanging on a hook in her
closet, all fully ready to participate in taming this hellcat.
Look in the box of toys. See the clips, three together on the
silver chain, ready to be attached to those delicious appendages.
See the dildos, the butt pluggers, erect and sturdy andready to
do their part in stretching those wonderful openings for you.
And now TELL HER WHAT YOU ARE GOING TO DO!!. Make her understand
whois master in these preceedings.
Should her hands be tied behind her? Of course. Now, some means
need be found to give her real fear, to make her understand
totally that you HAVE TAKEN COMMAND. I suggest that she be spun
face down on her own bed, her delicious ass nude, upturned and
awaiting some definitive action on your part. She does not yet
know what to expect from you. You know where the bamboo cane is,
long and slim and lithe. Take it, swish it in the air a few
times so that she can hear the unmistakeable sound that it makes.
And now- GIVE IT TO HER- THHHHHHHWWWWWWWWWAACCCCKKKKKKK!!! a
shocker, a real slash across her rump, across both upturned
cheeks. See the firey red line appear almost instantly. Hear
her shocked scream as the horrible burning sensation peaks, and
lingers on. And hear the strange tone in her voice, at once
fearful, knowing that she is helpless. Her husband is away, and
nothing will save her from you giving her whatever you think she
deserves. You will be judge and jury, and even executioner of
whatever punishment you think is appropriate. And she can
absolutely depend on it, her feminine wiles will get her nothing-
except perhaps to get he punished even more. You have that cane
and can and will give her just as much of it as you please. Now
tell her what you are going to do, that you will train her in
obedience, that she will have to account for all her bad behavoir
in the past--and as you tell her, at regular slow intervals,
THHHHHWWWWWWWWWAAAACCCCCKKKKKK-- sign your autograph on her
delcious, plump ass, using that fierce rattan cane as your pen.
And all this time, think about that green box that she has hidden
away somewhere. She would never show it to you, never want you
to see the photographs, see the intimate letters, and especially,
never want you to see that video tape. Of course not. She would
never willingly show you these. But her master, rattan cane in
hand may have a few different ideas about that. Why, I would bet
that she would not only show them to him, she could even be
induced to beg for the privelege of looking at them.
Now hear her beg for the opportunity to please you, hear her
offer those delights she has refused in the past. She begs for
the chance to show how good she can be. Can she suck your rigid
cock? Would you like to give her a taste of your golden stream,
directly into her open mouth, as she swallows every drop? You
can have that. Do you want her hot tongue probing into your
moist asshole? She is aghast at this, but now would be glad, to,
no delighted to do that for you. Would you rather fuck her sweet
asshole, using only her saliva as lubrication, and then later,
offer your now-brown stained erection so that she could clean it
for you with her tongue?
No, not yet. Oh yes, she will have ample opportunity to show
that she is fully docile, fully trained. But first, her master
has a few scores to settle with her, and that green box is
certainly one of them. And this rattan cane, with which he has
already expressed his displeasure, is the perfect instrument to
train this bitch, to reduced her to the state that all she wants
to do is please her master, no matter what, no matter how.
Now, an hour has passed. She is relaxing, as much as it is
possible to relax with the fierce metal clips carresssing her
nipples and her clit- and of course, with that hideous, 14"
rubber dildo that her master has slowly forced into her anus, and
where it rests now. He has, of course, given her the opportunity
to look at the green box- and no matter how much she hated for
him to see the contents, the alternative, further strokes of that
awful cane, were even worse. So while she suffers, he looks at
the box.
Right now, he is looking at a sheaf of pictures, all very
pornographic, showing Helen in one after another disgusting pose-
fucking, sucking, being reamed, being spanked, getting an enema,
sucking the cunny of a lovely black lady. She will be punished,
certainly for all these transgressions. But right now he has a
problem. He has a raging hardon, and besides that, a totally
full, even uncomfortably full bladder. What to do about that?
Well, at the state they are at, perhaps the first thing he will
do with the golden stream is to use it to oil her tonsils- to let
her suck it all down, every drop, every last drop. On the other
hand, maybe he will pull that huge dildo out of her butt, and use
this stream of hot piss as a natural enema.
And afterwards, what then? He has a friend, a large, husky
blonde lady, a policewoman named Hilda. He knows that Hilda
likes nothing better than having her cunt sucked, and the thought
of giving a stropping to a whore would probably be very appealing
to her. Should he call Hilda and invite her over? That idea is
pleasant to think about. Another idea comes to mind. Heare is
Helen's address book, and here is a listing for Doris, the black
maid whose picture he has already seen. He wonders if Doris
would like to come over and feed Helen another eclair- another
idea with strong interest to him. Well, whatever he decides to
do, he has plenty of time. He is not expected home until
tomorrow, and certainly she is going nowhere until he decides to
release her.
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