Susan's Submission Chapter 3 free porn video

CHAPTER 3
Susan awoke with a start at the sound of the door latch followed by the door opening. It
wasn’t that the sound was loud, rather that in this soundproofed room, any noise stood out
from the silence to which she’d grown accustomed.
Peter moved into the room and turned on the room’s lights. Susan scampered to try to sit
upright. The chain holding her wrist cuffs together, did not permit her to assume the
kneeling position, and it really didn’t matter, because of the fog in Susan’s mind, she’d
momentarily forgotten about the positions.
She looked quickly about, and remembered her situation. She watched Peter come into the
room. He was carrying a bowl and a small thermos. He moved to the wall where the water
bowl was located, and set the bowl he was carrying, next to it. He picked up the bowl of
water and moved to the sink, pouring the water out.
Moving back, he returned the water bowl to its place on the floor, then opened the thermos
and poured what appeared to be steaming coffee into the bowl. Finished, he replaced the
top on the thermos and moved to Susan.
She had knelt up, arms bound in front of her, trying to blink the sleep from her eyes.
“It’s early,” he said, “but I did mention that we were going to have a long day today, didn’t I?”
Susan was still trying to clear the sleep from her mind, and meekly nodded. Peter set the
thermos on the floor, and unfastened the chain from her wrist cuffs, and put the padlock
back into his robe pocket.
“I’m going to give you about ten minutes to use the toilet and eat your breakfast,” he told
her. “Don’t bother washing or cleaning yourself, the first thing on your agenda this morning,
after breakfast, is a bath.”
Susan replied, “Yes, sir.”
“You’d better not use your hands to eat or drink,” he warned the woman, “I’ll know if you
have, and that will have severe consequences.”
With that, he turned and left the room. Susan rose to her feet and moved to the toilet. She
really didn’t have to go, but again, she wanted to take care of that before Peter returned.
She washed her hands, then wondered why, she wasn’t going to use them to eat. She was
determined to follow Peter’s instructions to the letter.
She moved to the bowls and knelt eyeing the contents she could see that there were
scrambled eggs with bits of sausage and even little chunks of toast. In the bowl that had
held her water, there was coffee, with just the slightest bit of cream. She wondered for a
moment how Peter knew the way she took her coffee, then she realized that he must have
watched her at the Riverwalk Café when she had prepared her coffee.
Susan bent, placing her hands on either side of the bowl, lowering her head. It occurred to
her that these bowls were dog dishes. Here she was, about to eat her meal from what was
used to feed a****ls. She brought her mouth to the food, and using her tongue, was able to
lap something less than a bite into her mouth. After several attempts at eating like this, she
moved to the coffee, and lapped it into her mouth, using only her tongue.
“This is going to take a long time,” Susan thought, but was determined to do as she had
been instructed, if for nothing more, than to please Peter. Then she realized that pleasing
Peter had suddenly become very important to her. She understood her own happiness and
its existence when she had pleased him.
Susan ate hungrily, and finished her food. She lapped more of the coffee, and was finished.
Not certain what she should do next, she stayed on her knees and turned in place,
assuming the sitting position.
Several minutes later, the door opened and Peter entered. Again, as she had been taught,
when he approached, Susan knelt up. She kept her eyes and head lowered, as she had
been instructed in this position, otherwise she would have seen the small smile that curved
on Peter’s lips.
Peter reached past her, picking up the bowl with coffee. “Very good,” he remarked. “You
must always remember to finish your food, you’re certainly going to need your strength
today.”
He moved to the sink, where he poured the remaining coffee from the bowl into the drain,
then rinsed the bowl and returned it empty to its spot next to the food bowl. He picked up
the food bowl then instructed Susan to follow him.
She stood awkwardly from her kneeling position, and very aware of her nudity, save for the
cuffs, followed him through the door. Not certain what to do, she turned and closed the door
of the dungeon room behind her.
As she padded behind her Master over the concrete floor of the basement, she thought it to
be the average basement. She followed him up the wooden stairs, holding the railing, then
through the door.
Susan realized that she had been blindfolded when she had come into this house the
evening before, and looked around wide-eyed as she followed this man through his home.
The walls were professionally decorated, the doors were mahogany, or perhaps a dark
cherry. The lighting fixtures were crystal, and as she followed him down the hall to a
carpeted stairway that curved up to the second floor.
She had never thought to ask Peter what he did for a living, it hadn’t seemed important,but
he was an obviously well paid man, and could afford the best of everything.
When they had arrived at the top of the stairs to the second floor, Peter led her through
another hall, into and through a bedroom, and into a large bath.
“This is the guest bath,” he said and gestured indicating that Susan should step ahead of
him.
Peter had already drawn her bath, she could smell the fragrance of bath salts, and saw tiny
wisps of steam rising from the water. A large bath towel was lain on the counter nextto the
sink.
“I want you to remove your wrist and ankle cuffs,” he said, then pointed “and place them on
the counter here.”
Susan knelt and unbuckled the buckle of her ankle cuff, and when she had it off, set iton
the floor, shifting her position to unbuckle the second. When they were both off, she picked
them up and placed them on the counter where Peter had indicated. She then unbuckled
the cuff adorning her left wrist and placed it next to the first two. She fumbled a bit with the
buckle on her right wrist, as she was right-handed. Peter watched, but said nothing, and
certainly didn’t offer to help.
When she had finally unfastened the buckle and removed the wrist cuff, she laid it nextto
the others. She stood awaiting her next instruction, Peter moved behind her and then to her
side, grasping her upper arm and guiding her to one side. He reached past her and opened
a door.
Susan saw the toilet and wondered what was to come next.
“I want you to kneel on all fours.” came the command.
Susan complied, moving to her knees the placing her hands on the floor underneath her
shoulders.
“Stay right there,” came his next instruction. He moved to the sink, and while Susan tried to
follow his movement, he was behind her and she couldn’t see what he was doing.
She heard a cabinet door open, then some rustling. The cabinet door closed, then the
sound of water in the sink. She could tell that he was pouring water into something from the
faucet of the sink, but couldn’t fathom what.
The water stopped and a few moments later the sound of the medicine cabinet door
opening. More rustling then his footsteps returning to her side. She couldn’t dare to raise
her head to watch, and kept it lowered for the next several moments, then her curiosity won
out, and she raised her head to see what he was doing.
Peter had an enema bag and was hanging it on a hook on the back of the door. Its long
hose dangled beneath. Susan felt panic in her stomach and chest. Her heart pounded in her
chest. Certainly, he didn’t expect her to accept this! A low groan escaped her lips, it was
loud and she just couldn’t help it. She looked about frantically, trying to form some sort of
escape in her mind, but it was racing too fast to make much coherent sense of it.
Peter heard the moan, “You will remain quiet,” he commanded sharply, “this is not meant as
punishment, and won’t hurt you. It is a hygienic necessity, and it will be over soon, so just
stay still.”
Susan’s mind was still racing, surely he couldn’t mean for her to allow him to invade her
body this way, but apparently he had. This was the ultimate humiliation Susan felt she could
possibly be put through.
She turned her head away from Peter and looked directly ahead. She was still on all fours,
but was twitching uncontrollably. Tears welled in her eyes, and she was trying to think
coherently, find some way to avoid this.
“I want you to spread your legs further apart,” Peter commanded softly.
Susan glanced over her shoulder, as she complied, moving her knees a bit further apart,
she could see the nozzle at the end of the long rubber hose, in Peter’s hand. She then felt
his palm on her buttocks, stroking and caressing her flesh. She was determined not to give
in to this treatment, but what could she do?
Susan felt Peter’s fingers at he buttocks, attempting to spread the cheeks of her ass, then
the tiny cold tip of the plastic nozzle at her anus. She clenched tightly, as if this were her
only means to resist the intrusion, however small.
”Thwack,” she felt the sudden and harsh sting on her buttocks, as Peter has slapped her
hard! She started to turn, and her hips had thrust involuntarily with the pain.
“You will not resist this,:” he was speaking loudly, almost shouting. “You will relax and allow
this to happen, it will be over much sooner that way.” he reasoned.
Tears filling her eyes, Susan did relax. The tip of the nozzle returned at her tiny aperture,
and she felt pressure, then the nozzle sliding inside of her. She closed her tear filled eyes
tightly, and was conscious of only that small area of her body.
She lowered her head, and opening her eyes, saw only the floor. She felt her tears as they
dripped to the floor. The nozzle inside her, she felt Peter’s movements next to her, his hand
still holding the nozzle inside of her. As he released the clamp holding the hose shut, she
felt the sudden stream of water inside of her. She had given up resistance, accepting with
great despise, what was happening to her.
Peter said nothing further, allowing the water to invade his victim’s bowels and at one point,
placed his free hand under Susan, feeling her lower stomach, feeling the soft swell as the
water entered her, and looking occasionally up at the pink enema bag, as it slowly emptied.
He had filled in slightly more than half full, determining that this amount, while not punitive,
would be sufficient to have the desired effect. He watched as the bag was nearly empty,
then returned to watch and study Susan carefully. He understood that she was suffering, not
only from the humiliation of this act, but now, more likely than not, from the pressure that
was building within her.
Susan was filling up, and felt the greatest urgency within her bowel. She was not going to
be able to hold the water inside much longer, but refused to give Peter the satisfaction of
watching her lose control and expel the water. After a few moments, the flow of water
stopped.
Peter saw that the bag was empty, or at least, nearly empty. He reached for the clamp on
the hose, and pinching it shut, stopped the flow. His hand was still holding the nozzle inside
of Susan, and once he closed the clamp, returned his hand to her stomach, feeling the
fullness of her abdomen. Slowly he removed the nozzle from her anus, and with his hand
still beneath her, spoke.
“In this house, you’ll do exactly as you’re told, you do it immediately, and without reservation
or protest.” He spoke softly, yet sternly, almost as if delivering a lecture. “I was kind enough
to provide an explanation of the necessity of this enema, but you still resisted, which I
consider a refusal.”
Susan heard his words and was trying hard, through the pain and discomfort in her
stomach, to comprehend what it was that he was saying. She understood.
Peter continued, “This will be cause for punishment, but I repeat, the purpose for this enema
was not punishment.” He continued, “I want you to hold the water inside of you for another
minute, and when that time has passed, I will leave you. You may use the toilet to empty
yourself. Once you are finished, I want you to assume the kneeling position next to the tub
until I return.”
Susan, on all fours felt enormous pressure within her, and understood the instruction. She
wasn’t sure that she could keep the water in for another minute, but felt Peter’s hand leave
her stomach. In another minute, she heard him giving her permission to empty herself and
leave the bathroom.
Immediately she stood and turned, sitting quickly on the toilet, and feeling the immediate
release of her bowels into the toilet. She felt as though her insides were emptying into the
toilet along with the water. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to find some dignity within
this act, but realized that all of her dignity had been taken by Peter.
After the water had evacuated her, she sat another minute and another wave came over
her, more water finding its way out. Another minute later, she was confident that it was safe,
she used toilet paper to clean her backside, the flushing the toilet, stood.
She moved gingerly out of the water closet and into the bathroom, next to the filled tub. She
slowly lowered herself to her knees and felt the warmth in her face of the blood that had
risen there. Placing her arms at her sides, wrists outward and palms up, she waited for
Peter’s return.
Almost as if on queue, Peter entered the bathroom. He moved to Susan and grasping her
arm, bade her to stand and get into the tub. Susan stood, suddenly aware of her nudity, her
bare vulva, and her smallish breasts as they swayed with her movement. She stepped
gingerly over the side of the tub into the hot water. Peter steadied her as she lifted her other
foot and stepped into the tub.
Slowly she sat, accepting Peter’s assistance, then he moved to his knees beside the tub.
He picked up a face cloth, and after immersing it in the hot water, wringing it out, used a bar
of soap to produce a thick lather in the cloth. He set immediately about bathing Susan,
starting with her slender neck, then washing carefully each arm, in turn. He went about his
task without emotion, almost dispassionately. He used large circles with the cloth to wash
her chest, and smaller circles around each breast. He washed her stomach, then had her lift
each leg in turn, to wash her limbs, down to and including her toes.
Peter had finished with Susan’s feet, then returned the soapy cloth to her sex. He used
small scrubbing strokes to wash there, and Susan could feel the cloth between her legs,
moving further back to clean her back opening. Without thinking, she lifted her hips slightly,
to give him access to that area.
“I think that you’ll find that when you cooperate, things are significantly easier, than when
you do not.” He spoke somewhat softly, though evenly. “For the most part, you’ve been very
cooperative, despite your moments of resistance.” He bathed her while he spoke, “What I’m
hoping to achieve, is your immediate obedience to anything I may ask of you. Until we’ve
achieved that, there will be punishment for refusal to cooperate.”
Peter asked her to move forward and lean forward so that he could wash Susan’s back. As
she did, she felt a certain gentleness to the treatment she was now receiving. Peter washed
her back while speaking and explaining the situation as he saw it.
“I want you to spend each of your weekends and several week nights here with me. We will
enjoy a variety of things, for example, I have a dinner planned next Friday evening with a
few friends, and am hoping that you’ll be able to come.”
Susan thought quickly then softly nodded her acceptance of the invitation. She was still
afraid to speak.
“You needn’t bother worrying about what to wear,” he said, “I’m having a dress made for
you. As a matter of fact, the dressmaker will be here soon, to take your measurements. In
fact, she should have been here by now. Why don’t you finish washing your face while I
make a call? When you’ve finished, get out of the tub and dry yourself.” With that,Peter
rose and left the room.
Susan took the face cloth and lathering it, wondered what she was getting into here. This
man was at one moment so cruel and seemingly without feeling or emotion, the next, he
was a gentle and kind man. As she scrubbed her face, she reflected how gentle he had
been with her in her bath. And certainly not to be forgotten was the orgasm he brought her
to last evening. In the distance, a doorbell brought her back to reality. She quickly rinsed
and stood from the tub.
She dried herself, once again finding fascination with her bald pubis, then carefully folding
the towel and setting it aside, lowered herself to the kneeling position next to the tub.
A few moments later, Peter returned to the room. He moved to the tub and reaching past
Susan, opened the drain, allowing the water to empty from the tub. He stood back and
looking directly at her, instructed Susan to follow him into the bedroom.
Susan stood and followed him. When she entered the room, she saw a short dark-skinned
woman waiting.
“This is Fiona,” Peter introduced. “She’s an excellent seamstress.”
Susan stopped dead in her tracks, she was mortified with embarrassment at her nudity in
front of a total stranger. Her eyes were wide, and she reflexively tried to coverher bald sex
with her hands.
Peter laughed, “Don’t worry, everything’s fine. This isn’t anything, I’m sure, that she hasn’t
seen already, am I right, Fiona?” Peter asked the woman.
“Everything is fine,” the lady replied with a hint of an Hispanic accent. “Don’t worry little one,
I will be very quick and I will have what I need in just a few moments.” Her brown eyes
sparkled as she spoke, and it was her easy manner, which put Susan at least, somewhat
more ease.
Peter left the room, and the older woman, still smiling, pulled a measuring tape from the
pocket of her dress. She then pulled a small notebook and pencil from her other pocket and
set them on the dresser.
“Don’t you worry about a thing, Miss. I’m going to make you a fine evening gown to wear at
the party Mr. Peter is giving you.” She spoke assuredly and moved to Susan, as if ignoring
the younger woman’s nudity. In fact, Susan felt as though Fiona hadn’t even noticed her
present state of undress.
The older woman instructed Susan how to stand, and carefully measured her neck, the
length of her arms, her tiny waist, hips and even around her breasts. After each
measurement, the woman scurried to the dresser and wrote down the measurements in her
notepad.
Within five minutes or so, Fiona had all the measurements required, and turned to Susan,
again smiling. Don’t worry little one, you are so pretty, and I will make you a dress that will
be as beautiful as you.” With that, the older woman put the notepad, pencil and measuring
tape into her pockets, turned and left the room.
Susan, not certain what to do, simply turned and facing the door to the bedroom, lowered
herself and knelt next to the foot of the bed. She could hear a muffled conversation between
the woman and Peter, downstairs.
Soon, Peter entered the room, moved past his kneeling slave, and into the bathroom. He
returned moments later. He had the wrist and ankle cuffs that Susan had removed earlier.
He bent, placing them on the floor in front of Susan and instructed her to put them back on.
Susan buckled the ankle cuffs just above her ankles, making sure they were snug, then
while on her knees, fastened the cuff on her left wrist, but was having difficulty with the
other. Finally, an impatient Peter moved in front of her and took her wrist and the cuff and
buckled the leather restraint himself.
“I want you to follow me,” came the simple command.
Susan rose and followed Peter who was already outside the door to the bedroom, then he
moved down the hall to the stairs with Susan behind. He went down the stairs, and to the
door leading to the basement. He waited momentarily for Susan to catch up, then opened
the door and started down the basement stairs.
Moments later, they were both in the dungeon room. Susan blinked, as the bright lights
were already turned on. The cushion that had been on the wooden table the night before
was gone, and the room had been straightened.
“I want you to move to the horse, and while facing it, present yourself.” came the terse
order. Peter’s mood seemed anything but pleasant at the moment.
Susan heard the command, then comprehended. She walked to the leather pommel horse,
without the pommels, and stood with her legs slightly wider than shoulder width apart. She
raised her hands, interlocking her fingers behind her head, and moved her arms so that her
elbows were pointing straight to her sides.
She heard Peter as he moved to the cabinet on the wall behind her, and heard him rustling
about. She heard metallic sounds, then heard him as he approached her from behind. He
walked around the horse, and Susan could see that he held several, four in fact, lengths of
chain in his hands. The chains were only about two feet in length, and Peter bent toset two
of the lengths on the floor on the far side of the horse.
He straightened, and moved around the horse behind Susan. He knelt, and Susan did not
dare look down. Peter seemed upset and she didn’t want to make him really angry.
As she stood in her position, Peter quickly used a carabineer clip to fasten the ring sewn
into Susan’s ankle cuff to the end link of the chain. He repeated the process with the other
ankle cuff and the second length of chain. Then straightening the lengths out slightly outside
of and to the rear of Susan’s feet.
“I want you to step back about six inches, and spread your feet wider,” he said.
Susan, while uncertain of what he was doing, instantly obeyed. She stole a glance
downward, as if trying to make sure she didn’t step on the chain, and realized what he was
doing.
Peter took the length of chain from Susan’s right ankle, pulling it fastened another
carabineer clip to the steel ring set into the concrete floor, then ran the chain through the
same clip, effectively chaining the ankle cuff to the ring in the floor. He quickly repeated the
process with the chain on her left ankle, and stood.
“I want you to move forward as far as you can, then rest your hips against the horse,” he
commanded.
Susan was able to scoot her feet forward a few inches and then leaned forward, her hips
coming in contact with the cool leather of the horse. As she had done this, Peter had moved
to the other side of the horse.
Picking up one of the chains, he said, “Hold both arms straight out in front of yourself.”
Susan did, and with arms extended, Peter took another carabineer clip from his pocket and
fastened the ring in her wrist cuff to the chain, then the other.
“Now, bend forward, over the horse, so that your hands touch the floor.”
As she did, Peter took both hands, steadying her, then released them so that she could
reach forward and touch the floor. He grasped the length of chain fastened to her right wrist
cuff, and extending it, seemed to think a moment, as if gauging the distance to the ring in
the floor that was set to her right, and clipped the clip to the third link in the chain. With
another clip, he clipped the chain from her left wrist cuff to another ring in the floor to her
left.
Susan was again bound spread-eagle over the leather vaulting horse. She realized that
Peter had left plenty of slack in the chains. She could still move her hands and legs a great
deal. Looking up, her eyes followed Peter to the electrical control panel on the wall, he
placed his hand on the switch he wished to operate, then turned and looked at Susan,
bound over the horse.
Peter operated the switch, and Susan heard the soft hum of an electric motor, beneath her.
The horse was rising, and thus so were her hips, and her whole body for that matter. Slowly,
the slack in the chains was taken up, then, the horse still rising slowly, her feet and hands
came off the floor, her weight borne by her hips on the horse. In another moment, Susan felt
her arms and legs being stretched severely, then the motor stopped.
Susan was no longer holding her head up, it placed a great strain on her neck. Instead she
looked downward at the floor. At the bottom of her vision, she could see her breasts
dangling beneath her. She was aware that Peter had moved from the control panel, to the
other wall where the various apparatus were hanging. After only a moment, he moved back
to Susan, who had quietly tested her bonds, and understood that there was little roomfor
movement.
Peter moved next to Susan’s dangling head, and knelt next to her, grabbing a handful of her
short blonde hair, yanking her head up.
“I want you to see this,” he said, holding up a wooden paddle. It was large and the wood
was smooth but unfinished “and understand exactly the feeling that it brings.”
Susan gulped fear and panic coming instantly. She wriggled ever so slightly in her tight
bonds, she allowed a low moan to escape her lips, and Peter releasing his grip on her hair,
stood, and moved to the other side of the horse, behind her.
Suddenly, she felt the smooth wood of the paddle, as he rested it atop her splayed buttocks.
It was cool, and felt nice against her skin. She understood that with her legs spread so
severely, Peter had what must have been a very nice view of her bald vulva, peeking out
between her legs, and she mostly understood her own vulnerability.
The paddle was lifted from her buttocks, then suddenly, pain. Intense pain, and immediate
burning in both buttocks that couldn’t be adequately described. It traveled immediately from
her buttocks to her brain, then her mouth, where she let out an enormous scream. Tears
welled instantly in her blue eyes.
Before she could finish the scream she was emoting another blow landed, just a bit lower
than the first, but just as visciously as the first. She attempted to gather her breath to scream
again, louder, but another blow caught her, again just a bit lower than the last. Susan
started crying and sobbing miserably, only able to let out a loud grunt when the next blow
followed. These blows followed one another less than two seconds apart, and it quickly
became apparent that Peter was moving them, first each blow landing a little lower than the
previous, then when he had traveled to the lowest portion of her buttocks, slightly higher.
Susan wailed miserably, she had never experienced pain like this at anytime before in her
life. Her tears dripped from her eyes and began to form tiny puddles on the concrete floor,
but Susan couldn’t have seen them, her eyes were filled with more. She was trying to catch
her breath between each blow, but while they fell constantly, there was slight variation in the
timing between each.
After he had landed ten blows of the paddle, Peter paused. He let Susan catch her breath,
and watched his victim closely. He gauged her reaction to pain, and seemed to file it away
in his mind for some later use. He smiled slightly, at the sight of this woman as she
struggled in her awkward position. Her legs moved just a couple of inches up and down. Her
arms were imitating the motions of her legs, and she had to realize that there was no
escaping or even lessening this pain.
The woman was still wailing and crying loudly, feeling the burn of her buttocks as it seemed
to travel inside of her, consuming her like an out of control fire. She was thinking of nothing,
rather experiencing the pain and her own despair at having no ability to control or in any
way lessen it.
In a moment, another blow fell upon her flaming backside. She had thought that Peterwas
finished, and she wailed at her discovery of being wrong. Another followed only a second
later, then another. Susan cried loudly, unable to speak or even plead for mercy, the pain
was so intense. After what must have been the twentieth blow, or was it only the fifteenth,
Susan had lost track, in fact, she hadn’t kept track, she found her voice.
“Please, please, please!..” was all she could muster between her cries and sobs.
Her cries to Peter seemed only to bring wrath, she would swear that the blows were landing
harder and harder now. Peter had been counting, and stopped the rain upon his victim’s
buttocks only after he had delivered thirty.
He watched as Susan tried vainly to thrash about, her cries and moans were loud and left
no doubt as to the depth of her anguish. He watched this woman, and delighted in the deep
crimson color that now covered her entire backside. He was aware that with her fair skin,
she would probably bruise darkly, but he still had much more planned for this woman.
Holding the paddle in his right, Peter placed his left hand on Susan’s burning buttocks. He
stroked lightly, and her sobbing seemed to soften a bit. He could feel the heat escaping
from her body through this area, and was trying to imagine, what thoughts were going
through his slave’s mind at this time.
There were no thoughts to speak of, only relief when the spanking had stopped. A moment
of terror when Susan felt his hand on her blazing skin, then, as he stroked, noting the
gentleness of his touch. Not the relative gentleness as compared to the touch of the paddle,
rather his touching her in such a gentle manner after having abused so horribly that area of
her body. This contrast is what she was thinking about through her sobs and tears.
Peter enjoyed the heat being given off by Susan’s backside, but a question came to his
mind. He stopped the stroking of her buttocks, extended his index finger, then placed it at
the entrance to her vagina. His hand could feel the heat from her there, but as he pushed,
he found that his finger slid easily into Susan. He could feel the wetness, not dampness, but
very wet walls of this woman’s cunt.
Susan felt his fingertip poised at her entrance, then could not help but allow a small grunt
escape as he entered her. He pushed his finger in all the way, as if to measure her, then
pulled it slowly from her.
Peter moved to the other side of the horse, kneeling beside Susan’s head. Her sobs had all
but left, and she raised her head slightly. He took her chin in his hand and lifted her face,
looking at the tears still flowing from her eyes. He set the wooden paddle on the floor next to
his feet, then reaching underneath Susan with his right hand, grasped one of her dangling
breasts. He felt the erection of her nipple, knowing that his assessment was accurate. This
woman, despite whatever pain, and even more specifically, whatever she would admit, had
become aroused!
He mentioned nothing of his observation, but did speak, looking directly into her tear-filled
eyes, “I did mention that this was going to be a very long day.” It was after this comment,
that he did something that for the remainder of her life, Susan would never forget. Peter
leaned forward, her head being held up by his hand under her chin, and kissed her lightly on
the forehead.
Peter released his grasp of Susan’s dangling breast, then picked up the paddle next to his
feet. He held it in front of her tear-stained face, then told her that she should kiss the
wooden instrument that had inflicted so much pain, and thank him for the discipline he had
administered.
Susan, still awe-struck with the gentle kiss Peter had delivered, extended her neck as far as
she was able, softly placed her lips on the paddle, and kissed it. She looked up as best she
could, and said, “Thank you Sir for the discipline.”
Peter removed his hand from beneath her chin and she allowed her head to drop once
again. She heard him move again, to the wall from which the various apparatus hung, more
rustling, then his footsteps, once again approaching. He knelt next to her, again taking a
handful of her blonde locks in his fist.
As he yanked her head upward once more, she looked and could see the riding crop which
Peter held in front of her.
“I want you to see what is about to inflict your next pain,” he said simply, holding the crop in
front of her face so that she could see it well. “I’m certain that you’ll be able to discriminate
the pain that the crop inflicts from that of the paddle. You’ll learn thatthe paddle’s effects
are very broad and well spread, while this is a very localized instrument and is used
generally to target a specific, if not a smaller, area.”
With that, he released his grip on Susan’s hair and stood, moving around the horse, this
time, between his victim’s widely stretched legs. He laid the crop on her inflamed buttocks
and slowly moved the leather strap about the crimson area that he had created. He let his
victim feel the leather strap at the end of this instrument, then slowly moved it between her
legs, then over her widely exposed inner thighs. He moved the crop down the inside of one
leg, the up the inside of the other. He couldn’t help but pause at the junction of Susan’s
spread legs, to let the tip of this instrument touch and caress her exposed and hairless sex.
Susan tried to turn to look over her shoulder in an effort to see what was happening, in vain.
She felt the smooth leather tip of the riding crop as Peter traced the outline of her backside,
then felt and very soon, better understood her true vulnerability, as he ran the crop inside o f
her legs, and up to her womanhood. She felt her take a sharp breath as the crop teased her
vulva, as if reminding her that this part of her was equally exposed.
Suddenly, the crop moved and no longer touched her there. She heard a “whoosh,” then
heard a loud “thwap,” the smallest fraction of a second later, the pain registered. The tip of
the crop had landed just at the bottom and slightly to the inside of her left buttock. Susan’s
blonde head rose and her mouth opened, emitting a very high-pitched scream. The next
blow landed but a moment later, just above and slightly more to the center ofher buttock
than the previous.
Susan tried vainly to thrash about, as if somehow, movement would lessen the pain. Tears
had instantly returned to her eyes, and she was crying loudly. The strokes of the riding crop
landed continually, methodically, as if creating a pattern. The blow she received would land
next to where that previous had struck. The pain was now even more indescribable than
that of the paddle.
When Peter had delivered about twenty blows to his victim’s one buttock, he moved to the
other side, imitating the pattern he had created with the first. He decided that he liked using
the riding crop much more than the paddle, for one thing, it was lighter and he felt that he
had better control of it.
Susan began babbling incoherently between her cries and sobs. She was trying to find a
way to convince her Master to stop. She was willing to do everything, but unable to do
anything. She could not catch her breath sufficiently, and wouldn’t have known what to say
or how to plea anyway. She alternated between screams and crying, hoping desperately
that this would soon end. It didn’t, that is until Peter had covered her right buttock as
effectively as he had already done the left.
After the second round of twenty blows to Susan’s right side, Peter stopped. He stepped
back and again carefully observed the agony of his beautiful slave. By this time, Susan was
tired in her struggles. She hung limp in her bonds, sobbing and crying bitterly. Peter had
been right, the riding crop had not only hurt much more than the paddle, but it hurt very
specific areas of her deeply. She could feel each of her buttocks singularly, in the pain that
was not shared, rather the pain that had been inflicted very singularly upon each.
It took Susan significantly longer to regain herself after this most recent assault upon her
backside, her sobbing ebbed only after several minutes. Peter once again moved next to
her, taking her chin again lifting her head, he held the end of the riding crop in front of
Susan’s tear streaked cheeks, and without prompting, Susan stretched her neck and placed
her lips on the instrument’s leather tip, kissing it, almost gently.
Looking up, she said, “Thank you sir for the discipline,” her words were nearly incoherent
among her long, loud, and uncontrollable sobs.
Peter laid the riding crop on the concrete floor, not directly beneath the woman, but so that
she could easily see it from her bound position. He stood and once again moved to the wall.
Susan through her agony, could not fathom what could possibly follow the unbearable
punishment that had already been inflicted upon her. And as her mind slowly cleared from
the pain that had overwhelmed her thoughts, she did not understand why Peter had left the
crop where she would see it.
He returned moments later, again a handful her short blonde hair pulled her head upward.
This time, Peter held what would best be described as a small cat-o-nine tails. This whip
was perhaps only eighteen inches in total length, the handle maybe six inches and wrapped
in leather. The leather straps would be best described as strips, maybe the thickness of a
leather boot lace. The whip had not been dyed or treated and was something of a light
brown in color, and as the strips dangled, Susan could observe that they were pliant.
“This is my ‘cat-o-nine tails,” Peter announced. “I can use this on parts of you where I might
hesitate to use either the paddle or the crop. You’ll be able to note the different sort of pain
this inflicts from that which you’ve already had a taste.”
With that, he released his grip in Susan’s hair, and standing, moved behind and somewhat
to the side of the horse. Reaching out, he dangled the straps of the leather whip onto her
wildly red backside. He lightly traced the area upon which he had already inflicted so much
pain, with the tips of the leather straps. He paused, then moving the whip back further, the
strips of leather dangled between Susan’s buttocks and danced lightly about her opened
sex.
Susan, wondered idly whether Peter was purposefully tormenting her with the leather whip
or if he were playing some sort of a game. Her answer came a few moments when she felt
the whip lifted from her, then heard a “whoosh,” and again a loud “thwack,” and then the
terrible pain. This time not from her backside, rather, her lower back, just above her
buttocks.
She raised her head and screamed again, a high-pitched scream that even she wouldn’t
have recognized as her own, had she heard it. The next blow followed, this time a bit higher
on her back, another scream filled with anguish, then another blow. Each blow landed a little
higher on the tautly stretched and very vulnerable woman. Peter was leaning a bit forward
now, in order to deliver the blows on her shoulder blades, then even higher nearlyto her
shoulders. After fifteen strokes, he paused.
Peter looked carefully at the pattern this instrument had left upon Susan’s back. Her body
racked with her sobs, her cries filled the room. He could distinctly make out the tiny red line
that each strip of leather had left upon her back.
When her crying had subsided a bit, Peter continued, this time working his way down his
victim’s back, another fifteen strokes found the whip striking where it had begun, just above
Susan’s boiling red backside. He paused again, and moved once again, between his
victim’s widely stretched legs.
Susan was beside herself, with what she felt, and perhaps more accurately, was helpless to
either stop or somehow lessen the pain. It seemed somehow, less sever than had the riding
crop, but at this point, Susan wasn’t considering an accurate comparison, rather her mind
was flooded with the agony that was being inflicted upon her. When the whipping had
stopped, she hoped that it signaled the end, but sensed Peter moving behind her, then
another blow. This one to the back of her right thigh just below her buttock. Another took
her, again just below the first.
Peter took his time and carefully landed each blow of the cat-o-nine tails targeting the area
desired then landing the hard blow. He heard Susan trying to plead with him between her
screams, and purposefully landed harder and harder blows. His whipping progressed down
the back of her leg to a point just above her ankle cuff. He paused, this time for only a
moment, to shift his position, then landed the next blow just below Susan’s inflamed left
buttock. Again he traversed the back of her leg to a point just above her ankle, then
stopped.
After several minutes, Susan’s loud crying had become soft sobs. Her tears had formed two
puddles beneath her. Peter moved again around the horse, kneeling next to her, and again
lifting her chin, held the whip in front of her. Susan one more time, extended her neck, and
kissed the strands of the cat-o-nine tails with her trembling lips.
It took the young woman a few moments to regain enough composure to speak, “Thank you
Sir for the discipline.” She looked directly into his eyes despite the fact thathe was but a blur
through her tear-filled eyes.
He set the whip on the floor and picked up the riding crop that had been lying there. He
wordlessly stood and again moved behind her, again between her splayed legs. He took a
moment to admire the results of his efforts. Susan’s buttocks were not only a very deep
shade of red, but seemingly somewhat swollen. He could see the splotches where the tip of
the riding crop had landed, as well as the red stripes inflicted by the cat-o-nine tails. He
admired the pattern he had left, and moved to a position where he would work from next.
Susan waited with anguish, the pit of her stomach swelling in dread at what was to happen
next. By this time, she understood that there would always be something ‘next’. Without
warning the familiar “whoosh,” then excruciating pain. This time from her extraordinarily
sensitive inner thigh. This pain was so much more severe and so very unlike anything she
had experienced to this point.
The second blow followed, not quite, but very near the point where the first had struck her.
He moved slightly higher, closer to the junction of her legs. Skillfully and deliberately placing
each blow of the crop. He administered ten blows to her inner thigh, then paused and
moved slightly, adjusting his position. Then the next fell, on the opposite side.
Susan, was overwhelmed with pain. She hoped that somehow she would pass out, but with
her head lower than her torso, that was unlikely. When the blows stopped landing inside of
one leg, it took only a moment for them to land on the inside of her other.
After many more blows to this area, Susan felt the pause, then a pain so horrible. The
stroke had landed between her opened buttocks, on her anus! She screamed at such a
pitch, that her voice cracked. The next blow followed only a half of a second later, again
between her cheeks, just a fraction of an inch lower. The strokes and Susan’s pitiful
screams continued. They were at a point where Susan knew where the next would land.
There was absolutely no doubt in her mind, and even though the pain had flooded her brain
as had her crying filled the room, she tried as best she could, to brace herself for thenext
blow.
She was not mistaken, and the next blow fell in an instant, precisely where she had
expected, upon her open vagina. Her vulva though swollen, had parted somewhat because
of her widely spread legs. The crop had struck her thinner and somewhat more sensitive
inner lips and felt as though it had penetrated her. The pain was enormous, and Susan
again raised her tear-stained face to open her mouth and scream.
The blows continued, each landing now, precisely where the last had fallen. Her sex was
suffering beyond words, and her anguish was complete. Susan had no control of her body,
and she alternated between screaming and crying. After what seemed to be an eternity, the
blows stopped. She was certain that her pussy had been shredded with the severe blows
that had been delivered to it.
Peter stood, and knew exactly what he was about to do. It came to him in that moment, and
knew that even though he had lost control of himself, it was the thing he was going to do.
He moved around the horse, picking up the cat-o-nine tails he had laid on the floor,and
returning to the wall, hung the crop and whip on their respective hooks. He turned and
pulling his shirt from the waist of his trousers, pulled it up and over his head. He kicked his
shoes off and then peeled his socks off his feet, lifting each in turn. Then he unbuckled his
belt, unzipped his fly and took off his slacks in one smooth motion. Kicking his clothes aside,
he moved back to the front of the horse with his victim beginning to regain her senses. She
was still sobbing, and this was the way he wanted to take her.
Roughly he grabbed a handful of her blonde hair, pulling her head upward. Susan felt the
pulling and opened her eyes. She saw Peter nude in front of her, and gave a start among
her sobs. His penis seemed enormous, but it was probably because of his excited state. It
stood out almost perfectly horizontal from between his legs.
“Open,” was his simple stern command.
Susan sobbed once, and gaining control, opened her mouth, never doubting for a moment
what it was that was expected. She felt the warmth, no, more accurately the heat from his
blood engorged member as it came to her lips. The dark and circumcised head passed her
lips and teeth and into her mouth. She felt it first on the top of her pink tongue, then the roof
of her mouth, then jabbing softly at the back of her throat. Her jaws remaining wide, she
closed her lips about the shaft of his cock as it stroked smoothly into her. Her mind was, for
the moment, off the pain in her back and buttocks, and deeply between her legs, and
focused upon the task at hand. At one point, she instinctively tried to take him in her hand,
and immediately felt the restriction of her position.
Despite all that had preceded Susan felt it important to please, however she could, this
man. The same man who had only moments before had caused her such terrible anguish.
She felt his penis battering the back of her mouth, but ignored whatever discomfort instead
she tried desperately to use her tongue to massage the underside and sides of his shaft
with each thrust.
Peter looked down at the Susan, he held her hair in one hand, and pounded himself into her
mouth. He could see the swell of her cheeks with each thrust in, then her cheeks becoming
hollow as he withdrew. He felt the soft fleshy back of her mouth with the tip of his penis at
the apex of each thrust. He knew he would explode in only another minute, were he to
continue, so reluctantly, he gave one last deep thrust. Susan gave a small involuntary gag
when his cock was in her throat, then he slowly withdrew from her mouth.
This was not what Peter had intended to do. More accurately, it was only the beginning of
what he had intended. He released his grip of Susan’s hair and moved behind her, once
again between her opened legs. He stepped slightly forward, and taking his penis in one
hand, positioned it at the opening of her vagina. He felt the heat emanating from Susan’s
loins and this excited him like nothing else could.
Susan felt Peter behind her, moving to make contact with her. She closed her eyes tightly,
then very aware of the fact that she wanted perhaps more than anything else, to be taken
like this. And, as if a light had been turned on inside of her head, she came to the stark
realization that she was so wonderfully aroused. Despite the burning of her buttocks, and
the enormous pain she felt between her legs, she wanted, more than anything, this man’s
cock inside of her.
She felt the tip of him at her entrance, then without warning, the pressure of him entering
her, opening her even more widely, and sliding into her. She would have sworn that she
could feel the veins of his shaft with the walls of her sex as he was now completely inside of
her.
Peter was fully inside of her, and paused for a second, relishing the warmth, not only of her
sex around his cock, but from her buttocks against his groin. But Peter was not going to
waste time. He quickly withdrew himself, nearly all the way, then slammed into her. His pace
did not ‘quicken’ as he was thrusting madly and rapidly, making it obvious to both him and
his victim, that he had only one purpose in mind.
After pounding the open and defenseless woman, Peter knew his climax was quickly
approaching. He felt the familiar tugging in his loins, and knew that it was only another few
strokes before he was to experience his own orgasm.
Susan felt the strong strokes. Her mind had put aside, for the moment, any semblance of
pain, and was trying without success in her tightly bound position, to thrust back to meet
him. She felt her own breathing quicken and her heart thumped in her chest. She was
hoping to climax with him, but could recognize that his breathing had quickened as his
thrusts became harder, and he was about to cum before she could hope to. She felt Peter
stiffen against her, holding his cock deep inside of her, and though she knew she couldn’t
feel that far inside of her, sensed his release of semen inside. She could feel the shaft of his
cock as it throbbed inside, and his warm loins pressed tightly against her groin. She heard
his low moan, signaling his climax.
Spent, Peter bent forward, dr****g his chest and body against the warm back and buttocks
of this beautiful woman. His breath was harsh and raspy, and his chest pounded with each
iteration of his heart. He had thoughts of regret about not bringing Susan to climax with him,
but regaining his senses, realized that would not have been best. She was to learn a lot,
and this lesson about putting him first was important.
Regaining his breath and composure, Peter slowly straightened. This was not a moment for
tenderness. He slowly withdrew his shrinking member from Susan, and in the next moment
stood back. Instead, he had another lesson for Susan in mind.
Susan felt Peter’s orgasm within her, in fact, as he pressed his chest against her body, she
could feel his semen escaping her vagina, dribbling ever so slowly down her upper leg. She
felt him straighten and withdraw from her. After a moment he had moved around the horse
and again taking a handful of hair, he pulled her head involuntarily up so that she was
looking directly at his shrinking member. She could see his semen around his cock and
some dribbling from the tiny opening at its tip.
Again the simple command, “Open.”
Susan’s first instinct was to shrink from this situation, not only was she expected to allow
him to put his penis in her mouth, coated as it were with his sperm, but also obviously
drenched with her own spending. Nevertheless, she complied, opening her lips and mouth.
She could smell the aroma of their combined sex, then, as its tip passed through her lips,
taste it.
Susan was still in an excited state, she had been only another minute or so from her own
orgasm. It seemed that all of her senses were heightened, and to her utter amazement, she
enjoyed the taste and aroma of him. She could nearly feel his pulse with her tongue, and
used her tongue to softly bath his shaft. She closed her lips around him and suckled his
cock. Cleaning it at the same time, relishing it. As despicable as the act had seemed initially,
and even in her bound and helpless state, Susan could only feel an intimacy between her
and this man like she could never have imagined.
Peter stood with his knees bent for a minute. He did not thrust, rather simply enjoyed the
feeling of being again, inside of Susan’s mouth. He felt her tongue ministering his quickly
shrinking cock, and after a minute, pulled from her and stood.
Susan looked up, as Peter moved to the control panel on the wall. He operated a switch and
she heard the hum of the motor, and felt the tension on her arms and legs lessening as the
horse lowered. It took a few moments while the horse slowly lowered to its original position,
and Susan could once again touch the floor with her fingertips and feet. The slack on the
chain holding her wrist cuffs was noticeable, and Susan watched as Peter released the
switch and again moved to her.
He knelt in front of her, and removed the clips from the chains at her wrist cuffs, then
standing and moving behind her, repeated this with her ankle cuffs.
“I want you to stand, and step away from the horse,” he said evenly.
Susan had to place her hands on either side of her on the horse, and push up. She felt the
blood rushing from her head and felt a bit dizzy for a moment. Peter was watching carefully
and allowed her the moment it would take to recover from the strenuous bondage position.
When she had regained herself, Susan stood, and immediately noted the burning in her
backside as well as her back and legs. She gained her feet, then took a few small steps
back.
“Present yourself,” came Peter’s next command.
Remembering, Susan spread her feet apart, and locked her interlaced fingers behind her
head. The pain and burning of her back and legs now also making itself painfully present.
She was also very aware of Peter’s semen slowly dribbling from her and slowly down her
legs. It was still warm, and it gave warmth to Susan, she somehow felt that this was a
symbol of his pleasure, and that she had given that to him.