Surrender, part 21

Here it is, the end of the story. There will be two more parts but then it is over. We'll see what you will think of the end but at least I have written a longer story to the end. This is, actually, an achievement for me. I usually lose interest somewhere in the middle and go off to start another story...or two...or three.

'Will you come to Italy with me?' He said, a week later.

'To Italy, is it some conference or meeting?' I said, trying to figure out what I really felt, trying to overcome my surprise.

'No, just you and me, no duties.'

'Why do you ask me?'

'Because I want you to come.'

'No, I wondered why'd you ask me, why don't you just order me.'

'Who said I wasn't interested in your opinion?'

'No, why,' I said and felt bewildered.

He scrutinised me for a while.

'What is it that bothers you?'

'Why do you suddenly care about what I think, you didn't care when you let Jonathon touch me.' My cheeks became red and hot at the memory.

'I didn't say I would respect your opinion. I may still be interested in it.'

'Of course,' I said.

'Don't be grumpy, and you haven't said if you want to go to Italy with me.'

I looked up at him and saw him smile. There was no way I was to change his mind about anything. He was a force of nature and if he didn't want to budge he wouldn't. I could stand my ground but I would have to take the consequences of that.

'I'd love to go to Italy with you.' I smiled at him.

'Are you sure?'

'Yes, I am absolutely sure.'

'You will come as my woman, sit at my feet.'

'I'll kneel at your feet by Fontana di Trevi, if that is what you want.'

'Then we are going to Italy.'

'Yes.'

'And from now on, you will address me as Sir.'

'Sir?'

'Yes, I like that. And you will do it in public.'

'No one will think of me as your partner, I will be like your PA or secretary or something.'

'Do you mind?'

'Yes, Sir, I do mind.'

'But you will do it.'

'Yes, Sir.'

'Good.'

The sense of pride that filled me surprised me. I had begun to be proud of my achievements but it was still surprising that I should be so happy putting my own person to the side and accept whatever humiliation he chose for me.

I was warm and tired as we arrived at the airport of the small town he had chosen for our trip. The sun stood high on a clear blue sky and despite the fierce traffic and ugly suburb, Italy managed to smile at us.

He had insisted on shopping for me before leaving so my bag was full of new clothes and shoes. I wore a light summer dress and a hat that made me look as if I was on the Grand Tour sometime around the beginning of the 20th century rather than living in the contemporary world. I knew it was quite deliberate since he had chosen a very timeless suit that well matched my outfit.

The city centre was ancient and hadn't it been for the advertising boards and the youngsters on their scooters, it could have been a hundred years ago.

The hotel was small and the interior did nothing to bring us back to the 21th century. We got our key and went to our room. I was tired, it had been a long journey. I had been true to his command and called him 'Sir' but I had made my utmost to not address him in public. He knew this and seemed to find it amusing.

'Now I need something to drink,' he said as I put my bag on the bed to unpack. 'I think I'll go down to the bar.'

'You want me to change?'

He stopped short, waited.

'...Sir,' I said.

'No, I don't want you to change and I want you to stay in the room.'

'Yes, Sir,' I said, a little bewildered and quite disappointed.

He opened his bag and rummaged through it. He smiled as he pulled something from it. It looked like a narrow belt or a leather strap but as he held it out I saw that it was fitted on a metal ring. The strap was threaded through the ring so that the leather formed three loops, like the petals of a flower.

'Strip,' he said in a soft voice.

It was easy. He told me to strip and I obeyed him. It was a hot day and it was quite nice to slip out of my clothes. The French window was slightly ajar so the sounds of the street below filled the room. This made my undressing seem a bit more public.

I enjoyed taking my clothes off for him. He looked at me and I knew he wasn't looking at the Doctor of History but at an obedient woman, a woman who was exposing her body at his command. I felt attractive as he stared at me, attractive and excited.

He made me sit on the floor, quite close to the window. I could feel the soft breeze on my body as I sat down. He knelt in front of me and now it became clear what he wanted with the leather strap.

He put two of the loops around my legs and moved them up to just above my knees. The third loop contained the buckle which he opened. I leaned forward and leaned my upper body against my knees as he buckled the strap shut around my neck. When he was

done I sat folded forward, with my chest on my thighs and my neck strapped to my the leather around my knees.

He then took another strap out of his bag and applied them around my wrists behind my back. When he was done I was quite bound. Two quite short leather straps made sure I wouldn't go anywhere.

'I'll go down for a drink. Stay there,' he said and chuckled to himself.

'But if anyone comes?'

'Yes, what if anyone comes?' he said and smiled.

'Will you be long?'

'As long as it takes.'

He turned to me when he had got to the door.

'This is not a good place for whippings, the walls are too thin. We will have to do without them for a while.'

Then he left and shut and locked the door. I was left on the floor, naked and bound.

I struggled with the sense of humiliation he had left me with. I was different from him and nothing could show that more clearly than him sitting in the bar, enjoying a nice something to drink and me, naked and left on my own in the room.

I was disappointed and wanted my freedom to explore and experience this new place. I was even angry.

Maybe it was the soft air coming in through the door, the sounds from the street that made me feel close to the world outside, the place itself, the fact that it was different and new to me, maybe it was all of that which made me suddenly very calm. I took a deep breath and I knew that this wasn't an ordinary trip. I wasn't there to study Italian culture and life. I was still inside a bubble, his bubble. I was his woman, the woman who was sitting by his feet.

This was who I was. This was me with him, naked on the floor, bound and helpless. I was at his mercy. This was the life I had chosen and it was petty to be disappointed that I couldn't sit in the bar or go walking outside. I was here because of him and with him and I had to accept where he put me. Or rather I chose to accept it, not in that very moment, but as the basis of our relationship.

There was meaning with my nudity, my bonds and my being left alone. It was what he had chosen for me and in binding me, he had touched me and the leather around my limbs were his touch. He was there with me.

I felt childishly happy at that thought. I wasn't sitting there because he was superior to me by nature, not because he had the right to do so, but because he wanted it that way, and I wanted it that way, and because I loved him.

I felt sexy. I wasn't used to that. I felt suddenly very soft and vulnerable, all those things I had been scared of, things that had threaten to expose me to danger. Now, inside his bubble, they seemed attractive and something sought after, asked for and wanted.

Disturbing Images 2

Before anything else I would like to tell you how chuffed I am at the responses to the Love Our Lurkers Day. I had hoped for many comments but didn't expect as many as I got. Thank you for stopping by and saying hello. It is still not too late to delurk. But as I say, reading is more important than commenting, has always been and still is.

When I started to post a Disturbing Image I thought about it as images that I really found objectionable but still are attractive or arousing. This image is a bit different. I still wanted to put it in this category.

Here we have a photograph of a naked woman, lying on her back, bound and blindfolded with a kind of gag. She is bound in such a way that her sex is easily accessible to her captor. In addition she is spreading her knees making herself even more open and exposed.

I am a prude and I keep repeating it. This may seem strange regarding my stories but if you think of it, there are not much raunchy details in my writing. And I do get terrible embarrassed by such a picture as this one, where a woman exposes her sex like that.

So why is it here? What is it that still appeals to me? I think what struck me first is her vulnerability, her helplessness. She is bound and open and exposed and accessible. Anyone may touch her and she can do nothing. She can't even watch the one doing it.

This could be rather nice, if you trust the one who has access to your body. Still I find this image menacing. I don't know if her friend or foe has tied her up like this.

There is however one particular thing that made me put this disturbing image here. I sometimes look at an image, especially the ones I find a little disturbing and think about what to say about them, what the participants would say, that sort of thing.

When I looked at this image and wondered what it would be like to be her, that exposed and bound woman, I knew what words she would say, or what I would say. The words are 'touch me!'

Not 'have me,' 'take me' or 'please let me go!' but 'touch me.' Suddenly there was a kind of significance to it, it became an image of a desire to be open to touch, to long for to be touched. It doesn't have to be sexual, it might be, though. Her pose, doubtlessly, makes you think like that.

The power in it comes, I think, from the fact that that, for me, touch is the most important thing, touch, not sex. One must not be put up against the other. Sex is important, very important, but more essential than anything is touch.

Fantasies are often like that for me, they are about very basic desires and some of them are not always the obvious ones. So here I am finding a kind of meaning in an image that I think would be far away from what most people would be thinking of.

Sold

Right! I am a little lazy. But now it doesn't matter because I have a guest posting. Ramon send me this story which I found delightful. I decided to put it on my blog, asked him for permission and was granted it. I did edit it. I have to admit it but just a little. I changed the spelling of one word. I couldn't help myself and can only ask Ramon for forgiveness. And I said changed, not corrected.

And what a coincidence that the heroine of this story is called Janice! I can assure you I had nothing to do with it...smiles. So, read and enjoy!

Janice smoothed down her faux-fur outfit, wishing her arms and legs weren't quite so exposed. She shivered, and not because of the air-conditioning in the crowded conference hall. It could have been much worse; the girl two over on her right was wearing that Arabian slave-girl costume Mary had originally chose for her; with veils transparent enough to be effectively invisible, at least to hungry eyes. Crazy Mary! Janice had laughed when Mary had first leaned over the desk they shared and told her that she had volunteered them both for the company's fund raising evening; this year an auction of office workers to the highest bidder. Of course she had flatly refused, but Mary had spent all afternoon working on her. 'It's for charity' and 'look at the homeless children, look at the poor dears' she whined. Mary had planned this well, she even had photos of hungry waifs. Finally Janice caved, but flatly refused to wear the outfit her delighted co-worker produced from under her desk. Finally a compromise was arranged; she swapped with someone whom Mary knew from another office . So instead of standing in line in front of a thousand laughing office workers as a harem girl, she was Captive Barbarian Princess from the Far Northern Steppe. Mary always had a flair for description.

Three had been sold so far, and the audience was getting warmed up. Wads of cash and credit cards were waved as the auctioneer praised the next slave's (it was the harem-girl) attributes: the length of her legs, the firmness of her torso. He didn't really have to go into much detail, thought Janice, when those veils left nothing to the imagination. It was then she noticed one man in the third row who wasn't gripped by the current item on sale. He was looking straight at her, hand to his chin as if weighing something up with a professional eye. He was weighing her up! She looked away and tugged downwards on her costume, as if she could increase the hem length by a few metres. He was probably comparing all the girls. No, a quick glance back and his gaze was still on her. His face was set. He had made a decision.

The applause from the last sale was settling down and she felt a hand in her back and was pushed forward. It was her turn already. She stared at the edge of the dais as offers started to flow in, many more than she expected. That voice was Will from accounts; she cringed to think she would have to spend the rest of the dinner with him at his table and all his rugger-bugger friends. The bids settled down, it was a battle between Will and another unknown male voice. Deeper than Will's. The kind of voice that was used to projecting across rooms, even auction rooms. Janice looked up as the final bid was cast. In the front row Will was despondent and the man in the third row was striding up the stairs to pay and take possession of her. Another shiver.

'I believe you're mine for the evening' was all he said with a smile, and lightly took hold of her upper arm. She felt his finger tips there. They may as well have been steel chains that wrapped themselves around her. 'I am', she answered.

She had never met the people at his table before but they were great fun. They and the man (Antony, he introduced himself) made her feel at ease and less self-conscious. Soon she was getting into the spirit of the evening for the first time; she laughed when Antony's friends asked his permission to pour her a glass of wine. When offered dessert by a waiter, she coyly suggested he 'Ask her master'.

'I will allow it this time', he said, and returned her impish grin with interest.

The function was winding down. Only a last few die-hard dancers were still on the floor. Antony guided her back to their now deserted table for refreshments. She was getting anxious again, but not because of the auction or her circumstances, but because of the impending end of the evening. Antony looked up at the clock, oh no, it was all about to end. He would turn to her, kiss her hand and say something about how wonderful it had all been. It would be over. No. She was a Barbarian Princess who fought polar bears and marauding Neanderthal tribes on the harsh tundra. She took chances, not like Janice the office worker.

'How long did you buy me for?' she half croaked.

He looked surprised. 'Well I'm not really sure. Midnight? I have no idea'. He did have an idea. Other couples - Masters and slave girls - were bidding each other goodnight, laughing and kissing each other.

'Its traditionally ... daybreak, isn't it...?'. Janice couldn't believe she just said that. He was looking at her very closely.

'I believe it is...I believe it is.' He wavered for a second, then his voice was suddenly very firm. 'You'd better come with me then', he said standing and taking her once again by the arm.

Janice...no the Barbarian Princess, pulsed with fear and excitement as he led her to the lifts. He pressed the 'up' button and she jerked his hand off her.

'That's no way to treat a Princess from the North' she said.

'Is that so?' he answered. '

No it is not. In my land I should have you fed to the polar bears for your insolence'. Janice pouted and thrust her breast defiantly forward. She hoped her eyes were flashing. She hoped he'd take the bait. The lift doors opened and grabbing her by the arm he pushed her in. 'Princess?' he said sarcastically. 'I have bought you at a slave action. You are a slave. My slave.' She started to fight, she wanted him to be rougher, to increase the pressure on her arm, to wrestle her to the ground. Trying to control her, Antony pressed the 'stop' button and using all his strength, grabbed her wrists and held her still. As she squirmed, he managed with one hand to undo his belt and wrap it over her torso, just under her breasts, pinning her arms by her sides. He buckled the belt tightly and smiled as he watched her struggle in the improvised restraints. She began swearing at him and he put her hand over her mouth.

'Quiet now', and she obeyed. He pressed floor 12 again, took off his dinner jacket and swept it over her shoulders, buttoning it on. Janice was amazed. To anyone waiting for the lift on their level, and there were two, she looked like a girl dressed in evening wear who had been given a jacket to wear by her considerate boyfriend against the midnight chill. They couldn't see the leather restraint underneath that kept her as his prisoner.

The people on Level 12 walked past them onto the lift without even a backwards glance, and Antony lead her to his room. Inside he unbuttoned his coat, stood back and admired her. He stepped forward, and with hands on her shoulders bent down for a passionate kiss. Not hard, but firm. Bound as she was, she felt self conscious again, but she refused to let go of the moment and returned the kiss with vigour. It was wonderful and she felt the current flow from his lips and down her spine. Then she bit his lip, not too hard but enough to surprise him,and she broke away,making a run to the door. He had her before she was half way there. He dragged her to the window, and her wondering why they were there ended when he pulled down the curtain cords. He unbuckled his belt and began binding her wrists, crossed over, behind her back.

He fought him, but he was too strong and she loved it.

'I'm sorry I have to do this', he said breathing heavily 'but you left me no option. You're mine for the night, I paid good money for you, and I'm completely within my rights to bind...' he undid his tie and cleave-gagged her, tying the knot at the base of her neck, '....and gag you'. Satisfied, he sat back on his elbows as she writhed and swore at him. After a few minutes of fruitless struggling, she lay back and glared at him. Exhausted.

Seeing she was done, Antony scooped her up and onto the bed. He kissed her legs, her shoulders, and her neck. Getting closer and closer to her lips. 'Now the evening starts, my prisoner. No don't tire yourself struggling. I can see I'm going to have to keep you like this till morning. And if you don't behave it will be the back of my hand'. Janice's eyes widened. She couldn't get free. She was his captive. And it was wonderful.

The Party, part 2

I have been very close to chicken out and not put this second part on the blog. I do blush as I read it and I suppose I at least managed to shock one person. But it is here now, the second and concluding part. The editing was minimal and you have to take it for what it is, a naughty story.

'Come lie over the armrest of your armchair!' he told her and all eyes turned to her as she squirmed in her seat. She blushed and realised that there was no escape. She slowly rose to her feet, stepped round the armchair, looked around with a worried expression on her face. She saw only smiling faces, encouraging faces, no sympathy or pity. All of us wanted to see her being whipped.

She slowly prostrated her body on the armrest as Mr Collins rose to his feet. He looked around and seemed a little nervous but all and everyone in the company seemed to urge him on.

'Lift your skirt!' he ordered, his voice excited.

Mrs Collins reached backwards and pulled at her skirt. It was wide enough to allow her to expose her bottom without lifting her body. I saw a slight trembling in her frame.

'Shall I let her keep her knickers on?' he asked in earnest.

'No, by no means, no!' my husband exclaimed encouraged by the other men.

'Never whip a woman on her knickers or on her clothes,' Mr Warwick declared, 'unless in a public space when it may be necessary to let her keep something on.'

They all laughed at that. Or at least the men laughed. The wives looked a little worried.

Mrs Collins didn't move. Although she knew by now that her knickers were coming down she was wise enough to wait for the order.

When it finally came she moved a little awkwardly as she pulled her green cotton knickers down. First just the little but when ordered halfway down her thighs.

Mrs Collins was now ready to receive her punishment.

'How many lashes?' Mr Collins asked.

'How many as you like,' said Mr Warwick.

'You decide,' said my husband.

Mr Jones nodded.

'But not less than twenty,' said Mr Warwick, 'for being late.'

'Shall she count them out loud?'

'If you want that.'

Mrs Collins wasn't used to this. She started squirming as soon as the first blow of the martinet landed on her bottom. She squealed and it took some time before she had composed herself enough to count.

'One!'

Immediately the next blow fell and Mrs Collins cried out in agony and her hand reached out to her bottom where red stripes were appearing.

'You shouldn't allow her to touch her bottom,' Mr Jones said.

'Sarah, take away your hands!'

Reluctantly she removed her hands and was rewarded with another lash.

'Three,' she squealed while her bottom was wriggling. She gasped and seemed to be in much agony. I saw her body tremble and I imagined she was wondering if she could cope with much more.

The fourth blow fell and Mrs Collins cried out and was sobbing softly before she composed herself enough to whisper:

'Four!'

'Harder!' my husband said, 'you can beat her much harder.'

'She can take much more,' Mr Warwick said

Mr Collins collected himself, took a deep breath and let the martinet swing and land with a loud crack on the naked bottom of Mrs Collins. She cried out in agony, her scream ending in a long squeal.

'Please, please,' she sobbed, 'I can't take anymore, please, no more.'

Mr Collins looked confused but seemed to take a deep breath and compose himself.

'Count!'

The men around the table nodded approvingly as Mrs Collins gasped.

'Five!'

The punishment of Mrs Collins continued with much squealing and and crying but she was disciplined and obedient enough to compose herself after each powerful blow of the martinet on her exposed bottom and count the strokes.

Mr Collins kept on whipping his wife until the counting reached 25 and after that he stopped the punishment.

Mrs Collins was sweaty, her white bottom shining bright red and blueish in places, her body trembling when she was allowed to pull her knickers up and rise from the armchair.

The very flustered and teary faced Mrs Collins sat down gingerly in her armchair as the other guests looked on approvingly. They were happy for her punishment and glad she had taken it but there was no sign of sympathy, not even from the other women.

'Wipe that smile from your face, Kate!' my husband said and I was startled feeling caught out. I guess I had been smiling, having enjoyed the whipping of Mrs Collins.

'Forgive me,' I said and bowed my head.

'I know something far better,' he said, 'something that will teach you to never forget your position.'

'Yes, sir,' I said, trembling.

'Harry, will you please give me the martinet,' he said, turning to Mr Collins.

He got the martinet as he rose to his feet.

'Kate, over the armrest!'

His order was swift and spoken in a calm voice. I knew better than to dally. I was on my feet immediately and soon I had draped my body across the armrest, bottom sticking up in the correct angle.

'Spread your legs!' he ordered'

I was blushing as I obeyed knowing that my sex was now fully visible to our guest.

'Wider!'

I did as I was ordered.

'Wider still!'

He wasn't satisfied until my feet were uncomfortably wide apart and I realised that my sex was not only visible but fully on display and wide open.

He soon proceeded to whip me. He was a master with the martinet and he didn't hold back. I squirmed as the first lash hit me across my bottom. I gasped and held my breath. I didn't have to count but I was sensing that it would be a struggle to cope with this.

He waited before he let the martinet fall again but the force rocked my body forward and I had to cry out in pain. Tears welled up in my eyes but I did not protest. I never protested.

He whipped me good, waited between lashes. But gave them to me with great force. He whipped me across the buttocks and occasionally on the thighs, choosing which one to target. Sometimes he made them long so they wrapped around my body, stinging my belly and sometimes short so they hit my tender sex making my body jump. Sometimes he hit three in quick succession and then I almost lost it and fell off the armrest.

I lost my concentration and soon I wept and cried and sobbed, worse than Mrs Collins but I never pleaded with him. I took my whipping without protests.

I got many more than poor Mrs Collins. She had endure 25, I got 75 and my husband was a better man with the martinet than Mr Collins.

I was sweaty as I fell back on my knees, spreading them wide. I looked around and saw admiration in the eyes of the guests. This was the way to whip a woman and they knew it. I felt proud of him. I knew he was good.

My whipping had the effect of not only making me suffer but it also made the arousal I had experienced grow to an almost unendurable level. The fact that I had been whipped on my sex on occasions did not diminish this sense of arousal, instead it seemed to increase it. I wanted, very much our guests to leave so we could deal with this in private.

My wishes was not to be fulfilled. Instead my husband ordered me to walk around among the guests in order to let them get the opportunity to inspect my whipped body and touch my welts.

This they did with some enthusiasm. I had to endure their hands on my hot and aching bottom. Some of their hands were cold and this soothed me somewhat but their touch was still painful. I resisted an urge to look behind and inspect my bottom. I was sure it was a mess.

Although it was smarting it was still quite numb, something I was grateful for. I knew the real soreness would come later.

Walking round among the guests having them touch my tender skin did nothing to calm my overwhelming and humiliating sense of arousal. On the contrary, although the touching was unwelcome it heightened the sense of excitement.

Some of the hands on my battered behind was quite intrusive and some felt they had the right to use this opportunity to grope me a little. Mr Warwick was the boldest and let a hand slip in between my legs to touch my sex and briefly slip into me. I held my breath but could not avoid sensing how much this stimulated my already excited senses.

The bold Mr Warwick didn't fail to notice this and pointed it out loudly.

'I think your wife enjoyed your treatment, John' he declared.

They all laughed heartily at this remark and I blushed and hoped that it would be enough but Mr Warwick was not to be dismissed that easily.

'Well Mrs, are you aroused?'

I looked in panic at my husband.

'Kate, I think you should reply to that.'

'Yes, sir,' I replied and tried to avoid letting my disappointment be heard, 'yes, sir, I am aroused.'

They all chuckled and Mr Warwick seemed very pleased with that.

'Why waste such an opportunity?' he continued.

'You are right,' my husband replied, 'Kate, go and get some ropes and the Member!'

I was wise enough not to protest. I didn't want them to get a reason to trash me any more. I walked on rather shaky legs over to the cupboard and got some ropes and the Member. The Member was the name of a very large green dildo that was kept in store for very special occasions. I would never forget the day I spent with the Member showed up my sex and how hard it was to concentrate on my ordinary work.

I presented the ropes and the Member to my husband on my knees and I felt the anticipation rise in the audience. My hands were soon tied behind my back and I was conducted to a low table where I was ordered to sit and still spread my legs wide.

I had hoped that it would not come to this. I was more embarrassed about my arousal showing than the effect of pain and suffering, I was not overly embarrassed about crying in front of others but being aroused, let alone being satisfied was utterly shameful for me.

The shy Mrs Jones was called forward and given the Member. She knelt in front of me and told where to put it. I felt tears well up in my eyes as I felt the green thing press against my sex. I felt utterly intruded upon as it slipped into me.

I closed my eyes to endure this ordeal as Mrs Jones, on the order of the onlookers started to move the Member, slowly in and out. At first it wasn't too bad and I struggled to stay calm. Soon, however, the effect of the ceaseless stimulation of my already excited sex could not be ignored. I was torn between my determination to not let this affect me and the pleasure it, really, was sensing the Member glide in and out of me.

The desire to give in to that pleasure grow strong but my resistance was likewise strong. I knew it would be so easy to give in, to let go and have it over and done with. I didn't want that. I didn't want them to watch me lose control.

Mrs Jones was persistent and relentless and soon my bound and still very naked body wriggled and twisted in the agony of this treatment. At last there was a point where I had to give in and where I felt that I welcomed its movements and where I wanted it to take me to the point where there was no return.

'Stop!' my husband said and Mrs Jones stopped. I was panting. He had spotted the very moment when I was giving in and when my mind and my body in concert desired to come.

I sat panting, lost, my body aching, wanting to come but being denied. I was devastated, I was defeated and in that moment denied the pleasure of being conquered.

They all looked at me as I sat panting, breathing deeply, calming down, just a little.

When my husband deemed the time right he ordered Mrs Jones to continue and she did. My resistance was short lived this time. His order to stop came just in the right, or, for me, the wrong moment.

This sweet agonising torture continued for a long while and I lost track of the times I was taken to the brink of an orgasm and then denied it.

There came a point when my body was not to be denied. I exploded and in that moment I didn't care if the whole world was watching. I behaved in the most degrading manner as I squealed and sighed as I came.

As I came around I found that seven pairs of eyes were fixed on me and they were accompanied by smiling faces. I saw no menace in the faces and they all looked very pleased. I supposed the mutual pleasure among them had different reasons. I assumed the men found a more simple pleasure in seeing me come like that while the women enjoyed my humiliation and the fact that they were spared, this time.

My husband walked up to me and took the Member from the hands of the still trembling Mrs Jones. He smiled at her and dismissed her. He turned to me and looked me in the eyes.

'Well done, sweet Kate,' he said as he took hold of me left nipple between thumb and forefinger and twisted and turned, hard.

I cried out in pain. And sat panting as he released me from the ropes. I felt subdued as I fell to my knees again, spreading my legs wide open and taking position, yet again, with back straightened, and bosom pushed forward.

It was time to end the party and the friends seemed sad to leave but it was getting late. I followed them to the door, helped them with their coats and had to endure their goodbyes that included kissing on cheeks and the mandatory touching and the occasional slipping into me with fingers. I wasn't aroused this time. I felt just intruded upon and somehow, it brought home even more clearly than at arrival that my body was at their disposal. I knew that this was what my husband wanted.

I didn't have to put things in order after the party immediately. My husband told me it could wait and I was grateful, feeling exhausted after the evening.

We brushed out teeth together and I looked at my bottom in the mirror. The martinet always made a mess of it and I felt how the numbness was giving way to a throbbing pain I knew would make it hard for me to fall asleep. Hopefully my public display would make me so tired and relaxed that sleep would come to me soon.

I needed my sleep. I had a hard day tomorrow. There was a faculty meeting and I knew it would be an ordeal sitting through the day on my whipped bottom. Being the head of the department made it necessary that I attended and, besides, my husband would never allow me to take a day off, just because I had been whipped the night before.

Still naked I cuddled up beside him in bed.

'Are you satisfied with the evening, Fitzwilliam, my husband?'

'I am, very much so,' he replied, 'and my name is not Fitzwilliam.'

This was a recurring and very silly joke.

'I know, Mr Darcy.'

'If you are not careful, I will let you sleep with the gag.'

'That would be dreadful.' I said, yawning.

Sleeping with the gag was almost impossible for me. I panicked with the gag in my mouth and although I could get used to it, it was terribly uncomfortable and horrible. I didn't want the gag and he knew it. He would only gag me if he really wanted to make a point.

'Good night, Mr Darcy!'

'Goodnight, my beautiful pet, goodnight slave Kate!'

'Goodnight, my Master!'

'Stop giggling!'

I didn't hear more as I drifted off to sleep.

What is it Like?

I am slow these days. I was inspired by a picture I saw and wondered a little, 'what would it be like?' So I tried to imagine it and this is what I wrote.

My hands are behind me. I have to keep them there. You have placed them there, encircled them with iron, manacled me and made me keep them there. I turn my wrists, move my hands, try to pull them forward but the cold iron won't yield. My wrists are kept in your iron.

I struggle a little, feel a kind of panic flow through me. I know I am manacled but my body wants to move. I can't do anything but struggle against the iron, the iron that encircle my wrists. I am helpless and I have to defeat that wave of panic. I am manacled.

I can't even move my hands up or down or to the side. They are encircled by iron that is locked to another band of iron. This other band encircles my body. Around my waist there is a band of iron, locked in place as much as the manacles are locked around my wrists.

The band around my waist is tight, too tight. It presses on my belly. I can feel it when I breathe, as a restraint, as something that stops me from expanding my lungs.

I know I must not try to breathe that much. What I can do is enough and if I try to breathe deeper I will only panic. I don't want panic. I can avoid panic.

This sense of needing to keep my reactions in check makes aware of being bound, being in iron. Or rather it brings it home what it means to be in iron.

My feet are in shackles, shackles as close and locked as the iron around my waist and wrists. There is a chain between the shackles. I can walk but I can't take long strides. I hear the rattling of the chain as I move, in short steps.

I stand on a beach. And I am not alone. You stand behind me. I am not looking at you. I know you are there. You would never leave me alone on a beach in iron.

Unless you wanted me to feel left alone. You could do something like that. I know that. But you would never forget about me.

The sun is sinking closer to the horizon and the shadows are becoming long. It is still a hot day. There is sand on the beach but there are no one else here but us. That is strange but good. I wouldn't want someone to see me in iron like this. They would try to free me.

I look down on my body. I see my bare feet encircled by the heavy shackles. They look vulnerable and helpless. I look at my legs and my belly. I see the iron press into my flesh. That looks cruel. My soft skin encircled and held by hard iron.

I am startled by your touch. At first you place your hand on my shoulder. Then you place your other hand on my hip, just below the iron. You hold me and I feel how cold your hands are. I want you to touch me but your hands are cold and I shiver a little.

I am helpless. My reaction is to protect my body, not let your hands touch me. I don't mind the hand on the shoulder or on my hip but I fear you will move them, touch some other part of me. I want to protect myself from that. It is beyond my will. It is like when you protect yourself when someone tickles you, even if it is your loved one.

But I can't protect my body. I can't move my hands to take them away. I can move a little and I do but you hold me, keep me in place. There is a short struggle, a battle between wills.

I stop struggling. I am defeated. We both know that. I can't struggle and I don't want to struggle. It was never meant to be a struggle and I hear how you smile and I smile too.

You do move your hands. The hand on my shoulder move down, forwards and over my breast. I gasp. The other moves forwards, downwards, across my belly and down between my legs.

I hold my breath as you put your hand over my sex. There is nothing to protect me from your touch. Only the iron. No clothes are there to interfere. I am naked, wearing only the iron you have locked in place on my body. And the iron doesn't protect.

There is a moment, a reaction, that speaks of defiance, of a will to protect myself, a desire to choose when and where. But that moment is brief. I yield to your touch. I draw my breath and I surrender to your touch.

Your hand gently caresses my breasts and I feel how my nipple hardens in the palm of your hand. I feel as if it betrays me.

Your other hand starts moving and I feel an itching desire for your hand to do more, to touch me more.

You do. You let your fingers slip into me and I let out a sigh. The fire is awakened and I am helpless. You have touched me and I am in your hands. I am naked and in iron and now you have made my body hunger for you.

Then your fingers are gone. Your hand that caressed my breast is gone. I am not touched any more. I stand trembling and realise, again, that I stand naked and in iron on a beautiful beach in the light of the setting sun.

I know this is only the beginning. This will be a long night.

Encounter

Back to normal. No debating, no trying to explain my viewpoint. This is a story I wrote sometime ago. I am obsessed with politeness and old time manners and this is an attempt to write in a style that is not that common nowadays. The real buffs will find all sorts of flaws in the text but it was great fun writing it. I am switching here and the narrator is the man. Wonderful thing, writing, that allows us to be whoever we want. There is more sex than usual but there is also more text and to be honest, it is, perhaps, too long for a blog post like this but it is my blog so I do what I want...smiles.

Oh, and there is a reference to a famous book in the text...giggles!!

I was riding on my horse through the woods one sunny spring morning as I came upon a young woman in a glade by a stream. She was clad in a beautiful long red dress that seemed very out of order in the forest.

The morning was mild so it was nothing unusual with the dress being thin and tightly fitting. It showed the woman as being slim and very slender. She had her long blond hair arranged in an exquisite fashion showing a sense of courtly fashion or at least noble upbringing.

As I approached her she became aware of my presence and stood regarding me as I drew nearer. I looked at her and found on her shoulders a young and intriguing face. She was very beautiful. Her face looked even childish in many ways but her beauty was still of a quite serene nature. This combination of elevated beauty and childish youth made her appearance a riddle.

As I came closer to her she draw herself up and faced me boldly.

'My Lord,' she said while curtsying.

'My Lady,' I answered looking down on her from my elevated position.

'May I enquire, who you are and what brings to the depth of these woods?' I continued.

'I am but a simple girl who lost her ways,'

'You mock me,' I answered, 'you are not a simple girl, you are of noble birth or at least of some standing in society.'

'I am a gentleman's daughter,' she said, looking into my eyes before averting her gaze again, 'but I am nobody in my present position.'

'Which is?'

'Up until just now, alone in the forest.'

'You are secretive, that is to be respected.'

'I thank you, My Lord.'

'What brought you here, if I may be so bold to ask?'

'I got lost,' she answered.

The situation was already strange. She wouldn't tell me about herself and I had already broken the rules of conduct in that I was still on horseback. I didn't know why I had not dismounted. Maybe I feared a trap or an ambush. It was something uncanny about this beautiful girl standing in the clearing.

'My Lady,' I continued after a short pause, 'what am I to do with you?'

'My Lord?'

'I cannot leave you alone and I do not know what to do.'

'Do with me as you please, My Lord.'

'Those are bold words spoken thoughtlessly,' I said.

'How come, My Lord?'

'You don't know what pleases me.'

'I trust your integrity as a gentleman.'

'That is daring.'

'I am at your mercy.'

'So you are.'

'I am.'

'If I would do with you as it pleases me?'

'I am confident,' she said with a bold expression on her face.

'That is good,' I answered, 'then strip!'

'My Lord?'

'You are under no obligation to obey me but I ask of you, fair Lady, that you grant me this wish since it, in truth, would please me.'

She blushed.

'I will do no such thing, My Lord, it is not appropriate.'

'Indeed it is not. Still it would please me.'

'I beg forgiveness but it would be quite impossible for me to oblige.'

She kept her composure and I admired her for that. I had broken all rules and she still cared to address me in a proper manner.

'As I said, My Lady, you are under no obligation to obey my commands but may I point to some circumstances that may make you reconsider.'

'My Lord, I can't think of any such circumstances.'

'They are there and I will gladly enlighten you if you would care.'

'My Lord.'

She blushed again and lowered her gaze.

'Your dress is quite exquisite and should I dare to rearrange it in achieving my wish I may ruin it in my lack of knowledge of its finer details and workings.'

'My Lord,' she cried out, 'are you threatening me?'

'I am not sure I would consider it a threat, I am merely pointing out the consequences of me doing as it pleases me with you,'

'Since I am at your mercy?'

'Since you are at my mercy.'

'You are determined?'

'I am.'

'What could deter you from fulfilling your wish?'

'I can't see that there are many things that could.'

'It is not for me to criticise your conduct, My Lord, but it seems not an appropriate thing for a noble man, like yourself to demand of a helpless girl.'

'It is the man who wishes, not the knight.'

'But shouldn't the knight overpower the man?'

'The knight may choose not to.'

'He may be criticised for that.'

'I am sure he could.'

She looked at me and I saw both bewilderment, embarrassment and a great deal of anger in her countenance.

'It may be said that a girl, even of a high standard, should be more accommodating towards a fellow noble man, especially as she has admitted being at his mercy and declaring herself being confident in his desires.'

'Surely, My Lord, you can't find my reluctance anything but proper. It can't be your serious opinion that a girl, even of a lower standard, should find such wishes other than unwelcome and something she should not obey.'

'My Lady, I spoke in jest. I can't accuse you of anything but proper conduct.'

'That pleases me to hear.'

'Still, you are at my mercy.'

'I am.'

'Although I am the only one, here, acting inappropriately it is still to be noted that you are, indeed, at my mercy and you said that I could do with you as it pleased me.'

'Those words were spoken hastily.'

'I know and a true gentleman should have acted as if they were spoken without their true meaning.'

'My Lord, are you not that gentleman?'

'I am a man.'

'So you are,' she said, her voice fading away.

'Forgetting my inappropriate conduct, will you not, My Lady, grant me my wish and strip?'

'Forgive me My Lord, I will have to disobey you in this matter. My modesty forbids me to grant you this wish.'

'I am determined,' I said.

'I am equally determined,' she answered.

'Then I will have to dismount and satisfy my desire myself.'

'My Lord, do you intend to use force?'

'I do and that will, surely, ruin your lovely frock.'

'Wait, My Lord!'

'I do not want to wait.'

'You are intent on having me remove my dress, regardless of my wishes in this matter?'

'That is my intention.'

'Very well, My Lord.'

'My Lady?'

'If it is your determined wish that I shall remove my dress it is not inappropriate that I should oblige in this.'

'You are changing your mind?'

'The circumstances governed by your determined wish give me but a few alternatives.'

'How true.'

'I love this dress and I do not want to see it ruined and since you, My Lord, are intent on having it removed it may be construed as appropriate for me to oblige if only for the reason of keeping my clothing intact, although not in its proper place.'

'Undeniable logic,' I said, 'I admire your reasoning.'

'Don't mock me, My Lord.'

'I apologise, I had no intention of insulting your mind. I spoke in earnest.'

'That may be seen as you, indeed, respect me.'

'Oh, I do, My Lady.'

'Grant me then, please, my wish not to remove my dress!'

'I respect my own desires as well.'

'My Lord, please.'

'You told me to do as it pleased me.'

'Please, allow me to retract my hasty words!'

'I have no desire to do that.'

'My Lord, please.'

'My Lady, strip!'

She looked at me and now her face was contorted with fear and agony. I was moved but I was not prepared to change my mind.

'Very well,' she said with a sigh.

I sat on my horse as the young girl proceeded to loosen her dress. I saw her fingers tremble as she unhinged some hatches and untied some strings. Her lovely red dress became unordered and I could discern more of her form underneath it. She was still dressed but some of the skin at her neck had become visible and I could glimpse her white undergarment.

She looked at me with a distressed expression but found no mercy in my eyes. She slipped her red dress from her shoulders and carefully removed it from her person, taking care in stepping out of it. When she had, finally removed it completely she held it in her hands and looked at me, pleadingly.

'My Lord, since the reason for my obedience was governed by my care for the dress rather than my obligation to be obedient to you I ask what I shall now do with my clothing now that it is removed?'

'Give it to me and I will keep it safe!'

She handed me the dress and I folded it carefully and put it in a bag that was hanging from my saddle. I found the situation both absurd and somewhat amusing.

'My Lord,' she said.

'My Lady, you have not, yet, fulfilled my wishes.'

'Is it, then, the wish of My Lord that I shall remove even my undergarment?'

She was strangely frank in her question.

'It is my wish that you shall remove all your clothings.'

'I would prefer to keep my undergarment on,' she said.

'I understand if you are not so willing to oblige me in this, since your undergarment seems to be of no high value and much easier to replace than the lovely red dress I now have in my care.'

'It is my desire, My Lord, to spare myself the discomfort of having any of my clothings removed from my person and therefore I am intent on being obedient even in this wish should you persist with it.'

'I will,' I answered.

'Very well,' she said.

She didn't sigh this time but seemed more determined and slightly more vexed. Still I could see her fingers tremble as she moved them to her white undergarment and started to unbutton it. She took her time and I was patient although I was eager to see what lay hidden beneath the white fabric of her garment.

She gave me a strange gaze as she hesitated, holding her unbuttoned undergarment in place with her delicate hands. I couldn't say what that gaze contained but it was not hatred and it was not purely anger and resentment.

Then she boldly slipped the garment from her shoulders and down to her hips revealing her upper torso completely to my waiting gaze. I regarded her form as it was revealed and I saw a tremble in her frame as she struggled with a desire to cover her bosom but decided not to do that. She seemed too proud to act as if there was something to be ashamed of. Maybe she would find it more humiliating to try to cover her nudity and then have to reveal it would I demand it.

'You are, truly, a joy to behold, My Lady.'

'My Lord, I blush, although your words are flattering.'

'There is nothing to be ashamed of.'

'Oh, I have to contradict you, My Lord, if I may, a girl's person is not to be beheld by just anyone.'

'Am I anyone, My Lady?'

'I meant no disrespect, My Lord, forgive me if I have offended you. What I intended to say was that the relationship between My Lord and this wretched girl is not of the nature that allows her to reveal her person in this manner.'

'Is it not?'

'Forgive me, My Lord, we are not married.'

'That is true and I appreciate your argument although I am inclined to point out that the distribution of power between us makes you less able to uphold the integrity you speak of.'

'That is true, My Lord, and I will speak no further of the appropriateness of my conduct and command myself entirely into your hands.'

'By free will?'

'I meant no offence, My Lord, but no, it is entirely by force it is done.'

'I will have to contradict you, I have used no force.'

'My Lord, do not mock me, you have explained your intention of using force had I not obeyed you!'

'But still, compliance was your choice, My Lady.'

'That is undoubtedly true, My Lord, I will hold my tongue.'

'There is no need, I think you argue your case very well.'

'Thank you, My Lord, a simple girl is flattered.'

'However enjoyable our conversation is I do not want it to hinder you in your compliance with my wishes.'

'My Lord?'

'I beg you to continue.'

'I am bewildered, continue with what?'

'My Lady, do not pretend to be more ignorant than you are, I know you to be both intelligent and equipped with a sharp tongue. Continue with stripping of course.'

'My Lord, of course.'

She raised her arms that had been held low and took hold of her white undergarment that was hanging around her waist. With a gracious movement she slid it off her hips and stepped out of it.

Now she stood before me in all her glorious splendour, covered in nothing but her shoes. She was holding her white undergarment in her hand.

'My Lord, what do you wish me to do with this?'

'My Lady, dispose of it the way you like, I have no use for it! I implore you not to include putting it back on as an option.'

She took a step and hung her garment on the branch of a tree. I looked at her moving. She was in truth beautiful. Her slim and slender frame was a pleasure to behold and her narrow hips and soft belly was a joy to look upon. Her bosom was small and firm and could not be more proportional to her delicate frame. Her face was every man's desire and I looked into her eyes. She blushed and cast down her gaze and I had to smile. I knew her to be embarrassed by the situation, standing there in the woods, unclothed before my eyes.

'My Lord, your gaze upon me is very bold.'

'Why should it not be? It is a joy to behold your frame.'

'But still, My Lord.'

'Do you mind, My Lady?'

'It is not for me to mind, I am at your mercy.'

'Oh, My Lady, I think your mind is quite independent of your situation. You may be at my mercy but you may still mind.'

'Forgive me, My Lord, but you speak in ignorance.'

'How come? My Lady.'

'How can my situation be independent of my mind? My Lord, I am but one poor girl and my situation and my mind are but parts of that wretched being, one dependant of the other.'

'My Lady, you propose that your mind is affected by the fact that you are at my mercy and that your opinion of my beholding you is dependant on your lack of power?'

'My Lord speaks clearly and expresses my thoughts very well. My opinion of a man beholding me when I am in a position to scorn him for it is quite different from the situation when I am powerless to avoid it.'

'And there are other differences as well.'

'My Lord?'

'The view of you by the man who is powerless should you scorn him differs considerably from the view I have of you, My Lady, at this moment. There would, undoubtedly be something akin to your exquisite red dress there to hamper his view while I have no such obstacles.'

'Undoubtedly so, My Lord.'

'Please, tell me, My Lady, what do affect your thoughts!'

'My Lord, you take much interest in my mind. That is unusual of a man in your position of power but to enlighten you I am fully conscious of my situation. I am helpless and powerless and at your mercy. I have at your suggestion removed my clothing and my mind is haunted by thoughts of what my fate will be in the near future.'

'What is it that you fear, My Lady?'

'My Lord, is that not obvious? You taunt me.'

'Maybe I do, but please, tell me, anyway!'

She looked angry now.

'My Lord, you have asked me to strip naked before you and I have complied with your wishes out of fear of your strength and power and a girl may be forgiven if it appears to her that the noble lord who wished her nudity may also take advantage of the situation.'

'Would the girl mind?'

'It is not for the girl to mind.'

I dismounted and walked up to the lovely girl. She took a step back and beheld me. She held her head up but lowered her gaze. She was at the same time both proud and humble and that made her even more becoming than before.

'My Lord,' she cried out.

I hesitated.

'My Lord,' she said, 'I do not imply that I can fully know your intentions but forgive me if my mind still makes assumptions of a certain kind. I will have to confess that I am a virgin and that my father, surely, will punish me if I were no longer to be that after this encounter. I know that that is of no consequence for you and I can only plead and appeal to your mercy.'

'Ah,' I said, 'your humility is admirable.'

'Thank you, My Lord.'

'I don't know exactly what lies in the word virginity but in a stricter sense I am inclined to grant you your wish. Whether my desires will affect your view of your virtue is something I cannot tell but as you so wisely pointed out, My Lady, that is of no consequence for me. I will make no excuses, only say that I have no wish to insult you more than necessary.'

'My Lord, what...?'

This was the first time she was speechless.

'My Lady, if you please, kneel!'

She looked bewildered. She looked at me and I saw anger, fear, resentment, curiosity flicker through and put their mark on her face.

She knelt. I looked down at her nude frame and found the view pleasing. She was the most beautiful and delicate creature imaginable and now she was kneeling before me.

'My Lady, please grant me my wish and kneel with your knees somewhat separated!'

'My Lord, this is a strange demand.'

'My desires may be childish but I find it delightful to indulge in them at times. My Lady!'

She rearranged her position and spread her knees slightly. She blushed.

'My Lady is too modest, I wish your knees to be put further away from each other.'

'My Lord.'

she moved her knees wider apart.

'My Lady, wider still.'

She blushed, lowered her head and spread her legs more widely open.

She could not speak but she complied with my wishes and now she was kneeling before me with her knees spread wide. Although the gesture was forced the fact that she was almost completely naked made her seem more vulnerable and welcoming than she, most probably, desired to be.

She knelt with her body straight and her natural pride made her push her bosom forward slightly and, although, unintentional that made her seem more eager to please me than she most likely was.

'My Lord,' she broke the silence.

Her address was a simple plea for being granted knowledge about her supposed next action.

I did not answer in words but reached down and released my member who had decided to stand up straight in honour of the loveliness of the young woman kneeling at my feet.

'My Lord,' she said again as she saw my manhood and this time her voice trembled a little.

'My Lady, will you grant me the privilege of having you kiss my simple manhood.'

'My Lord, you know I comply with your every wish.'

'Then, My Lady, please, go ahead!'

She took a deep breath and then she leaned forward and gently and slowly put her lips to my raised member. Her touch was electrifying and the sensation of her soft and wet lips on my person gave me far more pleasure than I had imagined it should.

Her kiss was soft and lovely but very gentle and very short.

'My Lady, your presence gives me more joy than words can express.'

'My Lord, a girl is pleased.'

'You mock me.'

'Please forgive me, My Lord, I may be mocking you. I will hold my tongue.'

'You may put it to other uses.'

'My Lord?'

She looked scandalised.

'My Lady, however lovely your kiss was I have to admit that I, in my selfish indulgence, crave for more. You may not be acquainted with many different ways of kissing and I have no time to instruct you.'

'I do not understand, My Lord.'

'My Lady, I wish you to use your lips not only to kiss me but to embrace me. Your tongue may be used, instead of for talking, for assisting in that embrace.'

She looked up, suddenly, horrified and then she lowered her gaze. I saw a shivering pass through her body and then she leaned forward. She put her lips to my member and the touch was, again, a blessing. Now she opened her mouth wider and let her lips slide along the sides of my manhood for a short distance.

She stayed for a while and then she withdrew.

'My Lady, your conduct is far more satisfying now but I implore you not to refrain from continuing.'

'My Lord.'

She leaned forward and took my sex in her mouth again and this time she really embraced me with her lips and she allowed her tongue to move and do service. I sensed that she was a novice to this kind of action but she seemed to be sincere in her attempt to comply with my wishes. Her movements were very enjoyable and although she acted a bit awkwardly there was something in her conduct that betrayed a sincere wish to please.

'My Lady, do not stop! Your conduct is admirable, at least from my point of view.' My voice was thick. 'My wishes are soon fulfilled, at least for the moment and I implore you not to stop what you are doing until I ask you to.'

I did explode soon after and she was obedient and stayed in place. She seemed to choke on me and her body was trembling. Still she held her lips to my member.

She had no choice but to swallow what I had delivered and her shivers made me understand that she found this revolting. Still she held firm.

As my manhood lost its stature she moved away an inch or two. She opened her mouth and used her tongue to clean it. I had not asked for this but still she did it. I do not think she, really, found any pleasure in it. Her reason for acting this way was prompted, I think, by her wish to please me although this wish was forced upon her.

'My Lady, please sit back!'

She did and released me and I put my exhausted member back where he used to be. I looked upon her. She looked me in the eyes and then she looked down again. I could not interpret her expression.

'Please, My Lady, rise!'

She obliged with a graceful ans smooth movement. I knew she was embarrassed and, no doubt, felt humiliated but she moved with great confidence and great integrity.

'My Lord.'

She addressed me without revealing her true emotions.

'Will your father punish you, now?'

'As My Lord pointed out earlier, my virginity is intact in the very strictest of senses but no one can doubt that I have no virtue left, considering my conduct.'

'Do you deserve punishment, then, My Lady?'

'There is no doubt about that, My Lord. I have chosen to disrobe in front of an unknown noble man just because I was too attached to my dress and I did not protest as he asked me to indulge in carnal pleasures only because I was afraid I would be overpowered. The fear of being overpowered is not so much the fear of pain as the fear of the embarrassment. Still I choose to embarrass myself. Surely I deserve punishment for my lack of virtue.'

'You talk of pleasures?'

'My Lord, forgive me, it was just a manner of speaking.'

'Well?'

'If there was pleasure for me, My Lord, then that would surely be another reason for punishing me.'

'Why is that?'

'There is no virtue in being pleased with humiliation.'

'Was there pleasure?'

'My Lord, I did not say I found pleasure only that if I had, it would be another reason to reproach my conduct.'

'That does not answer my question.'

'How true, My Lord, but forgive me for pointing out that your question seems to spring from your own desire to justify your own conduct.'

'I suppose you speak the truth, My Lady, I will not enquire further.'

'My Lord, as you wish.'

She curtsied. Her movement was fetching although strange. I had never seen an unclothed woman curtsying before.

'My Lady, you speak of just punishment befalling you and, in truth, it is of no concern of mine but I am considering doing you the honour but for completely different reasons.'

'My Lord, you refer to doing me the honour of punishing me?'

'My Lady, the thought has occurred to me.'

'May I enquire upon the reason for doing me this honour?'

'My Lady, I may act upon an urge to satisfy my desires rather than a righteous sense of justice but I have considered punishing you. The reason I will give, if reason is called for, is that it has to be for your mockery of me.'

'My Lord, I am truly, guilty of mockery and I know my punishment will be just and deserved but as I am at your mercy there is no real need for justification. Your desire to punish me is just cause as far as I am concerned.'

'Is this not another kind of mockery? Do you, in earnest, consider yourself deserving of punishment and that my desire to do so is cause enough?'

'Please, My Lord, I have no intention of mocking you more than I already have. I speak out of an honest assessment of my situation. I am at your mercy and whatever you choose to do to me you will do regardless of my opinion.'

'What is your opinion?'

'It is not for a girl in my position to have an opinion.'

'But you say you deserve it.'

'I truly deserve a punishment but this does not, necessarily, mean I welcome it or would not try to avoid it had I the power to do so.'

'Your assessment of your position is true and your words are wise.'

'I am at your mercy.'

I did not answer this but reached out and took her hand. She drew her breath at that. I led her towards a fallen tree that was lying at the side of the clearing. I proceeded to sit down on it and direct the lovely young lady to lie across my lap, in the way girls are punished.

'My Lady, there is no need for words at this moment. I will punish you and for reasons I will not disclose to you.'

'My Lord, I am in no position to question your judgement.'

'Your slipper, please, My Lady.'

Somewhat awkwardly she raised her left foot so that I could remove her slipper from it. Her shoes were indeed suitable for the use I was going to put them to but extremely unsuitable for a walk in the woods.

I began to apply the slipper to her upturned backside, easily at first but then with some increased vigour. She held her breath as the slipper made contact with her unprotected behind. She did not scream but made tiny movements and let slip sounds that told of her discomfort.

I applied the slipper with increased vigour and was soon giving her a sound hiding. I found the sensation quite entertaining and invigorating. Her soft behind turned from ebony white, over pink, to a shade of red. This did not restrain me. I continued spanking her for some time and with great force. I admired her ability to take her punishment without complaining.

After some time of relentless assault on her lovely behind she began to squirm and moan. She was in distress but did not slip one single syllable of pleading or anger.

As I decided that her spanking was done I saw shivers in her small frame that told of her discomfort. She was quietly sobbing but did not say anything.

I took her hand and made her stand. I turned her towards me and regarded her. Her eyes were wet with tears and her eyes were downcast. Her face was red and her body trembled.

'My Lady, I have punished you to my heart's desire.'

'My Lord, you have indeed punished me and I am glad that you are satisfied.'

'I am, at the moment.'

She gave me a bewildered gaze but looked down again.

'My Lord, I have to complement you on your ingenuity. Punishing me with my own slipper is nothing less than impressive.'

'My Lady, you flatter me.'

'I am being honest.'

'The best type of flattering. Stay there, I will be right back!'

I went to my horse and returned carrying two lengths of rope in my hand.

'My Lord, I do not know your intention but the ropes in your hand tells me you have no intention of giving me back my red dress.'

'My Lady, your perception is clear.'

I turned her around and crossed her hands behind her back. She did not oppose me but passively let me bind her. I then bound her feet together.

'My Lord, you embarrass me.'

'How come?'

'Is it not I who should be at your feet?'

I had to laugh at that.

I took her on my shoulder and carried her to my steed and placed her in front of my saddle on her belly. I mounted my horse and left the clearing. I turned round and the last thing I saw was her white undergarment hanging from a tree.

'My Lord.'

'My Lady?'

'It is not for me to decide or advice but I assume you are taking me to some place were you will be able to keep me for whatever reason. There is, really, no need to let your fine horse carry more than necessary. I may use my feet.'

'Grant me this, My Lady, I prefer this manner of transport.'

'Very well, My Lord, it is not for me to question your judgement.'

'How true.'

'My Lord?'

'My Lady.'

'Will not my appearance in this position on your horse be conspicuous should someone lay eyes on us?'

'My Lady, you should not worry too much about that, this is my land and I will do whatever I please on it.'

'My Lord, I had no intention of mocking you but I realise that I was not completely truthful as I just spoke.'

'My Lady?'

'I did not speak out of concern for your honour but of mine. I am no one but I find this situation quite humiliating.'

'So it is intended.'

'I see, My Lord, forgive me for questioning your conduct. I should have known that any humiliation of my person was intended and was to be endured by me. Forgive my boldness!'

I gave her a slap on her upturned buttocks and she let go of a high pitched sound of discomfort. I laughed as we rode on to my castle.

I kept her in my quarters for a while and at first I did not give her back her red dress. I found it more entertaining to have her there in her more natural state. I had already grown fond of her sharp tongue, her good manners and her clever wit, let alone her enticing figure and lovely eyes.

She was an enigma. She complied with everything I told her to do and although she was proud she would never disobey me and she would put all possible efforts into pleasing me. She was obedient and willing to please and she showed no signs of resentment although she never told me she was fond of my treatment.

Soon I was attached to her beyond what I had expected and my heart softened and I decided that I did not want her as a captive any more. Then the strangest of all things in this story happened. Instead of leaving she asked me if she could stay. She had grown fond of me and she truthfully wanted to stay by my side. This I could not believe and I offered her money and recommendations so that she would not stay for any pragmatic reasons. She still wanted to stay.

My heart rejoiced at that. She stayed because she wanted it and because she found something in my castle that appealed to her. She never even implored me to change my manners in her company.

Yes reader, I married her. She is, now, my devoted wife and she seems happier than ever before. Although my manner is bold towards her she has become more confident and dare to speak her mind more openly.

I am the master of the house and she is still naked in my quarters but she is bolder and demands that I sometimes take the whip to her behind to satisfy her desire for justice or otherwise.

She has never told me who she is and why she was in the forest that day and I do not ask her. It is of no concern of mine.