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George Franks was having a busy morning. The deadline was approaching for completing the annual tax returns and everyone seemed to have left things to the last minute. Even so, George managed to get everything finished by lunch time. He even succeeded in completing Allison Callow’s tax return and she’d only let him have the last of her records the previous evening. She had suggested that the two of them met at a nearby wine bar so she could explain a few things but George had told her that he was certain everything would be clear and had insisted that she just fax them over. They had been no trouble at all, just as he had thought.
George had also finished the documents that Erica needed to file for her tax returns too but he needed to check that she was happy with them before he sent them off. At least that was what he told himself. It was only professional after all and not in any way related to the fact that he was looking for an excuse to see her again.
Erica smiled as she put down the phone on their telephone conversation. She knew what he was doing; she had plenty of experience of “pushy subs” as she called them but was happy to indulge him. After all, he had saved the business a great deal of money and he’d let her see that Deanna needed her ideas shaking up before she had done any damage to one of her real clients. She greeted him cheerily at the front door when he arrived, amusing herself by keeping everything on a very business-like footing. “Do come in, Mr Franks,” she said waving him in. “So good of you to come over.”
George, puzzled by her friendly manner, coughed and followed her into the living room. Erica sat down in one of the arms chairs and gestured for George to take the other. As she sat there in a modest, grey, woollen dress with its high neck, long sleeves and calf length skirt, George found it almost impossible to imagine that this was the woman that only a few days ago was standing in the hall of this same house, clad in rubber, her face hidden behind a mask, beating his naked backside with a wooden paddle.
“You have some forms for me to look at, I believe,” she said with an expression that implied that butter would not melt in her mouth. She smoothed her skirt modestly across her lap.
George, who had almost forgotten the supposed purpose of his visit, so busy had he been enjoying the unfamiliar pleasure of being able to look directly at his mistress, fumbled with the catch of his briefcase. “Ah, yes, Mistr.. err, Ms. Wilkie.” He pulled out the papers and offered them to Erica.
Erica looked at them for a moment. “Ah, I can see that this will take a few minutes. Would you like some tea?”
George nodded absent-mindedly. “Err, yes, thank you. That would be very nice,” he said. Erica reached across to a small hand bell that sat on the table. She gave shook out two short rings.
George was shocked when the door to the room opened and Deanna, dressed as a housemaid but in stilt high heels and with a red ball gag strapped into her mouth, appeared.
“Tea,” Erica said peremptorily. Deanna gave a gagged growl, glared at George and teetered out of the room.
George watched open mouth as she left. “But, but, she’s a .. Well, isn’t she?”
Erica put down the forms for a moment. “I am afraid that Deanna was rather out of order in the way that she treated you. If a mistress is to discipline others, she must understand the value of discipline herself. Mistress Deanna is going through a short programme to help her to re-focus some of her attitudes.”
“I can see that,” George responded with a worried expression, “but I hope you won’t mind if I say I find it a little uncomfortable. Having her wait on me like this. It doesn’t seem right, somehow.”
“I see,” said Erica, raising an eyebrow. “Would you be happier if your relative positions were restored?”
“Mistress,” George said, slowly, looking directly at Erica, “you have taught me to serve yourself and Mistress Deanna and Mistress Darla. I know that Mistress Deanna took advantage of my naivety and it hardly seems for me to say but all I know is that it seems wrong for me to be sitting here like this. I should be the one waiting upon the two of you.”
Erica looked carefully at George. Deanna appeared with a tray of tea things and George fell silent. Erica took her cup from Deanna as it was offered. Deanna turned with the tray towards George but he shook his head.
“It seems,” said Erica to her ball-gagged maid, “that Mr Franks here is uncomfortable with having you wait upon him. It seems, that in spite of your behaviour towards him he is still prepared – no, ready – to serve you as he does me.” Deanna looked suspiciously at George. “So, I shall be happy to consider that your penance has been served if you take Mr Franks here and remind him of his rightful place for an hour. You can keep your gag and your uniform on for now but I’m sure you will be able to let Mr Franks understand what’s required of him. After that, well, there should be no reason why you can’t take up your usual role again. Fetch a collar for Mr Franks and take him down to Therapy Three.”
Deanna looked at the two of them in turn and nodded.
“And you, Franks,” Erica said quietly, “you had better get into a position more appropriate to your status.”
“Yes, Mistress, yes,” said George, beaming and practically leaping from his chair to get to his knees. Erica smiled patiently at his enthusiasm.
While he was waiting for Deanna to return, Darla came in wearing a broad smile. She didn’t wait for Erica to ask what was making her look so pleased but launched into a stream of chatter. “I’ve got my first client of my very own. He’s made an appointment for this evening. Evaluation and then we’ll see what’s next. Two hours for a start but he thinks he’ll want two hour sessions most weeks. He’s been visiting a Mistress in London but now his job’s moved up here and it’s too far for him to go. It’s great. I told you I’d be able to build up my own client list. Isn’t it great?”
Erica waited for Darla to take a breath. “That’s good news. Wonderful. Therapy Four will be free this evening. I think you’ve learned enough to be able to look after him yourself.”
Darla peeled off the jacket of her office suit, flopped down in one of Erica’s chairs and kicked off her shoes. “I’m going to be so pleased when I don’t have to fill in at that stupid office. I only need a few regular clients and I can tell them where to stuff their stupid job. And as for that idiot of a sales director….”
“Would that be Jack Staples, Darla dear?” Erica asked with a mischievous smile.
Darla’s hands flew up to her face. “You don’t mean, he? Well, does he? Is he?”
Erica nodded. “Oh yes,” she said. “Mr Staples and I have enjoyed a number of meetings. Perhaps you should join us sometime. I think that could be VERY good for him” Darla giggled and nodded keenly.
Deanna reappeared with a collar and leash. Without waiting for George to acknowledge her presence, she buckled the collar in place around his neck. Jerking the leash down to indicate he should get on his hands and knees, she led George, crawling, out of the room.
Once Deanna had George in the therapy room she wasted no time in letting him know just how to behave, not letting the fact that she was gagged impede her in any way. A jerk from the lead had his forehead against the floor while she made herself comfortable on one of the stools. Another jerk brought George back into a kneeling position and he found himself looking up at Deanna as she crossed her legs and extended one foot towards him. Even dressed as a maid and with a red ball distending her mouth she was still able to present an imperious manner that commanded obedience. A gesture by the gagged mistress was sufficient to encourage him to put his tongue to work on the polished toe of her high heeled shoe.
George had been required to worship at Deanna’s feet sufficiently often to know what she required of him. He glanced up at her to see her impatiently flexing a riding crop between her two hands and knew that it was time to move on, sliding his tongue along the instep of her shoe towards the heel until he eventually took the spike of the shoes heel into his mouth and began sucking at it. Deanna allowed him to continue for a few minutes before she tapped him on the shoulder with the crop to indicate that he should stop. She uncrossed and re-crossed her legs to allow him to set to work on the other foot.
Deanna was evidently enjoying having her slave obeying her every gesture without a word spoken. As he repositioned himself to allow his tongue to lick at the sole of her shoe he saw she had unbuttoned the front of her dress and was stroking her own breasts. When she looked down and growled through her gag, George knew that he shouldn’t have been caught looking. Deanna, aroused by George’s submission and his startled response to her look, grabbed George by the back of the neck and pushed him into her crotch. George whimpered as she thrust herself back against his face, using his nose and mouth to drive her own stimulation. Her gagged gruntings became more guttural as she approached orgasm, until with a final groan, she pushed George away. George fell backwards, Deanna followed him down, kneeling with her thighs either side of his head and sliding forward until the musk of her body was the only thing George could smell.
Hardly able to breathe, George tried to push back against Deanna but his struggles only served to arouse her more. She swayed backwards and forward dragging her panty covered cunt across his face over and over again, until finally, sated, she slide herself back to sit on his chest. Staring down at George’s pinkened features, she buttoned her dress demurely. Deanna stood up and pulled George up from the floor as well. She used her apron to wipe George’s sweat stained face. George’s grin was sufficient to earn him three cuts from Deanna’s riding crop, but even so, when Deanna dismissed him with a wave he knew that he had performed well.
It was, George decided, very unusual. He’d just telephoned Allison Callow to ask if he could see her about her end of year accounts and she’d been quite evasive. Normally she was only too happy for him to stop by. In fact mostly it was her phoning him to ask if there was anything he needed. So, when she’d said, no she was out and wasn’t sure what time she’d be back he’d thought it very odd.
On the other hand, it had meant that, when Darla phoned, he was in. “She wants you,” Darla had said. “You’re to come straight over. Come in through the back door. And hurry up!”
He barely had time to mutter, “Yes, Mistress,” before she had slammed down the phone.
When George arrived he went around to the back door as ordered. He made his way into the room where he had first been held captive by Darla and Deanna. The three pillars were unoccupied.
There was a small bag on a chair in the middle of the room. Alongside it was an envelope with George’s name on it. The instructions contained in the envelope were terse. “1. Strip 2. Put on mask, gag and cock cage from the bag. 3. Ensure all locks are closed. 4. Place clothes in this bag and lock it. 5. Wait. E.”
George hesitated for a moment but then, energised by the thought of a further session with Erica, he started to follow the instructions that he had been given.
Once he had put on the leather cock cage with its locking belt that would give whoever had the key access to his manhood, he turned his attention to the hood. It masked his face but left holes for his eyes. nose and mouth.
George finished by putting on the gag and knelt down to wait for Erica. After only a few minutes he heard Erica’s voice in the corridor. The door opened and in she walked, looking as if she had just come for a meeting to discuss her accounts, dressed in a sober skirt suit, with her hair up and wearing understated make-up. “Well, you can have a chance to try things out now,” he heard her say over her shoulder.
A voice from behind her said, “Well it’s good to have a chance to put something into practice. This is really helping me, Erica.”
In spite of his gag and the fact that he knew better than to speak in the presence of a Mistress, George’s reaction to the new arrival in the room was an almost audible grunt as he recognised her distinctive voice. He knew that the voice of the woman clad in black, and looking every inch the confident dominatrix, belonged to Allison Callow.
George was amazed at the transformation of the mousey woman that he had done work for. Instead of the jumper and jeans that she normally wore she had on a skin tight black cat suit. Over it she wore a shiny black patent leather corset, cinching her waist in and pushing up under breasts that George had never realised that Allison possessed. Short boots with spike heels and pointed toes, fingerless leather mittens and an eye mask completed the outfit.
With his own mask obscuring his face, George was pretty confident that she would not recognise him as long as she didn’t hear him speak. And with his mouth stretched by the rubber ball gag there wasn’t much danger of that.
“This is the slave I told you about,” said Erica. “See how he watches us come in. And he knows he’s not supposed to do that!” George dropped his head at once.
“You were right. He’s not much to look at is he?” sneered Allison and George found himself surprised, shocked and excited by her expression of disdain. “Is there anything he’s any use for?”
“He’s fond of foot worship but he still has got a lot to learn there,” said Erica. “He’s really a beginner but he’ll do for what you need today. Shall we start? Would you like to … ?”
Allison nodded. “Why not? You,” she said with confidence, pointing at the kneeling George, with a leather gloved finger, and then waving to a wooden frame on the far side of the room, “get yourself over there and bend across the horse.” George felt a sense of trepidation but did as he was ordered. Allison followed him and as soon as he had bent across the frame, bent down beside him to fasten his wrists with straps to the frame. Allison’s face was inches from his and he felt he must be recognised but she seemed to ignore him and carried on jerking the straps tight and threading the free ends through the buckles. She did the same with his ankles.
George heard the tap of heels as Erica walked across the room towards him. Bent over the horse, all he could see of Erica was her booted feet as she stood feet apart square in front of him. “Good,” he heard Erica say. “That was quite efficiently done. The straps look tight enough. You might like to let the slave wait a little before securing him, though. It never hurts to let them build up a sense of anticipation. Slow heightens the sense of fear, I find. Now you won’t have a device like this… “
“Well not at first,” Allison laughed.
“But you can achieve much the same thing across the back of a chair. The important thing is to get the slave’s backside well into the air.” George suddenly realised why he was in the position that he was and begun to grunt into his gag. Erica reached forward and gripped him by the back of his neck. “Be still, slave,” she ordered. George stopped grunting and struggling. “Choose one of those and try it,” Erica called across to Allison.
Moments later a sharp pain shot through George’s buttocks as a swift blow landed on his backside. He grunted into his gag. There were two more lighter taps and then another heavier blow. “You’ll find,” said Erica’s voice, that the paddle is best used from one side so it comes down with the main area across one buttock or another. Don’t try to catch him on both buttocks at once.”
“You mean like this?” There was another thump as George felt a blow this time to his left buttock.
“Not bad but try to get the wide flat end to wrap around the width of the buttock. Here let me show you.” Erica’s heels tapped across the floor and moments later another, more painful blow landed.
“Ah, I see. Let me try.” Allison reproduced the blow.
George was horrified. It was obvious that he was being used as some sort of training device to help educate Allison.
“That’s right,” said Erica. “of course you’ll want to even things up over a session.” Another blow came, this time to George’s right buttock.
“Of course,” laughed Allison.
“But you don’t need to start off with a heavy blow like that. I find they respond better if you build it up. Use a few short, lighter, blows first. Vary the time between strokes vary the strength of the blow. That way they find it harder to anticipate the next stroke and can’t prepare themselves for it.
“Good thought,” said Alison. “I guess the same applies to the cane?”
“Yes,” said Erica, “exactly.” George felt a number of exploratory taps on his buttock. “But, of course the cane lends itself to a strong swish followed by a light blow. That terrifies them!”
“I hadn’t realised that there was so much to it. It’s a craft all of its own.” A series of light taps was followed by four share cuts from the cane that left George gasping for breath.
“Very good,” said Erica, “he wasn’t expecting that at all. Now try the tawse.” George tried to wriggle on his frame but only earned another cut from the cane as his reward. “You need to be careful with this. You can pinch the flesh between the cut straps of the tawse which is fine as long as that’s what you are trying to do. It’s a bit harder to control than the paddle.”
George felt another blow, this time across the top of his right thigh. “This marks him better, though,” said Allison. “And the other thing I’ve noticed is that he seems to have calmed down. He’s struggling less than at first.”
“Very good,” Erica enthused. “Observation is one of the most important tools of the successful mistress. If you keep the effect you are having in view it is much easier to control the slave. Very good indeed.”
“What about the crop?” Allison asked. George was alarmed by the swishing noise behind him.
“Much the same in use as the cane. I tend to use a crop for day-to-day control and the cane when the slave has really earned a punishment. I just think the cane is a little more dramatic. It’s easier to generate a sense of fear in the victim.”
“And that makes the domination process easier.”
“Quite. You’re evidently catching on. I’m pleased with your progress.”
“Well, it’s a very different therapy from what I was expecting. But it’s certainly helping my self-confidence and assertiveness. It’s hard to be shy in an outfit like this.”
“Well, I’m pleased that things seem to be working out. Any more questions on these?”
“Oh. Err. Yes, one other thing. What about this?”
“”Mmm,” said Erica in a tone that worried George. “My favourite. The single tailed whip. I wouldn’t recommend it for a beginner but it is an elegant device.” A short crack was followed by a piercing pain as George felt the tip of the whip snick at his backside. “It’s a real precision instrument in experienced hands. You can put the tip exactly where you want it.” Another crack and another sharp pain set Georg whimpering. “And you can build up a series of blows in the same spot or spread it out more. Or you can lay the length of the whip across the flesh like this.” The next two blows wrapped themselves around George’s legs, first from the left side and then from the right. Pain shot through him from the stripes that the whip left on his flesh. “Well, I think that’s enough of the whips for now,” said Erica. George breathed an inward sigh of relief. The sensation of being made helpless by Allison when she didn’t realise who he was had been exciting, the beatings arousing but painful. He was happy to have some respite from the conflicting sensations of pain and pleasure and was only slightly disappointed when Erica said, “You’d better let him off the horse.”
Allison unbuckled the straps that held George over the wooden frame. All that he wanted to do was to slide to the floor but he knew better than to move without instruction.
“Right,” said Erica. “You also need to develop the way you feel about being in control. I’d like you to show me how good a job you can do of immobilising this slave with those lengths of rope.”
“Hmm, all right,” said Allison evidently thinking carefully. A moment later George felt another cutting sensation in his backside as Allison struck him with a hank of rope. “Off the horse!” she ordered. “Stand yourself up and face the wall!”
Allison went to work with the ropes. George was surprised by how quickly she wound the ropes around his wrist and arms, immobilising him. Another blow with the end of the rope forced him to his knees and Allison bent forward to bind his knees and ankles. With his face pressed against the wall he didn’t even have the consolation of a close up view of the corseted, booted and masked Allison.
“On the floor now!” Allison ordered.
George, scared of falling, with his ankles and knees bound, found it difficult to get himself down, earning him further blows from an impatient Allison. Flat on the floor his ankles were pulled back towards his wrists behind his back and a rope knotted between them to keep them there. George, not the most supple of individuals, groaned as he tried to find a way of relieving the pressure on his arms and legs.
If he had hoped for sympathy he was unlucky. “Excellent,” he heard Erica say. “Very good indeed. That will do for now. We can leave our friend here for a while – let me show you some of our other toys.”
George heard the tap of the two domina’s heels as they left him, struggling on the floor of the room. His whimpers attracted no attention at all. He wasn’t released for over an hour, by which time, George felt, the charms of bondage had been largely explored.
© Freddie Clegg 2010
Not to be reproduced or reposted without permission. All characters and events fictitious.
Email: freddie_clegg@yahoo.com
Web group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/freddies_tales/
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