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Disciplinary Measures

Disciplinary Measures

My name is Ruth Martin. I am thirty-seven years old, happily married with two children, both girls in their pre-teens, and I work as a District Nurse. I make house calls in my capacity as nurse all over the district during the day and usually return home to my family in the early evening. My life is interesting, well regulated and happy. I think I can say I am good-looking, with my dark, shoulder length hair tied back in a tail, though I am, perhaps, a little plumper round the middle, fuller in the hips, than I should be; possibly this is a symptom of conservative complacency, but I am not apologising for it. However, over the past year, I have had reason to take a good, hard, long look at myself and ask myself just what kind of a person I really am.

A little more than a year ago, I was called to one of the larger houses in our rather affluent district. On arrival, I was shown into a spacious living room, where an elegant lady introduced herself as Mrs. Farley, the lady of the house. She was about my age, quite pretty with her long, blond hair piled up on her head and clear, blue eyes. She told me that she wanted me to attend to her two stepchildren, a girl of fifteen and a boy of thirteen. In confidential tones, she began to explain that the children needed a firm hand, but that it should not be hers as she was afraid it might alienate her from her husband, the children?s father. I was a bit puzzled by all this so I asked her what was wrong with them. She laughed and told me they were both in perfect health. She said what they wanted was not so much a nurse as a ?disciplinarian? to administer punishments when required. I was somewhat taken aback at this and must have looked it. Mrs. Farley explained that she wished her stepchildren to learn the meaning of discipline and respect, usually a parent?s task to instil. However, because she was not their real mother, she felt she could not handle this herself; it had to be another person, a disinterested party with authority, and it had to be a woman, preferably herself a mother. She thought I qualified admirably, being a nurse and a mother, a figure of authority, and she named an impressive figure to be paid per session for my services should I agree. I did not know what to say.

?Perhaps you should meet the children,? said Mrs. Farley, pressing a bell push. A few moments later, a maid ushered the girl and boy into our presence. The boy was more pretty than handsome, with longish, dark hair and a slender figure. The girl?s hair was blond, and she had a pretty if rather petulant face. The introductions over, Mrs. Farley explained to the children who I was and why I was there. They both gasped with shock and apprehension on hearing what my proposed role in their lives was to be. To the children?s horror she then suggested that I demonstrate my ability in order to decide on whether I could, or would, accept the offer. After a little hesitation while I regarded the two wide-eyed and apprehensive children, I rather doubtfully agreed to try.

Mrs. Farley rang for the maid and instructed her to prepare them for punishment. The maid was a pretty, young, blond woman in her mid twenties. She wore a typical maid?s uniform, which made her look quite fetching. Leaving them for the moment, Mrs. Farley led me to the Games Room, where, she said, the punishments would take place.

It was a large room with a covered billiard table pushed to one side and here and there other items of sporting activities scattered around. In the centre of the ceiling hung a restraining ring fitted with leather straps. Mrs. Farley drew my attention to a long whip, which was hanging on one wall. She told me it was a nylon circus whip. It was, she said, what she wanted me to use. I found the idea rather daunting.

The door opened, and in walked the two children, shepherded by the maid. I caught my breath; they were both stark naked! They advanced further into the room with uncertain steps, seemingly shy and embarrassed to be paraded naked in front of me, and this affected me in a curious way.

I began to experience an intriguing sensation of delicious, tingling warmth down below my abdomen, and I ran my tongue over my lips in tacit response.

Mrs. Farley made the girl kneel down submissively in front of the couch on which she had sat, and then she ordered the maid to get the boy ready. This involved the maid?s taking him by the hand and leading him to the centre of the room. Once there, she fetched a low stool and placed it under the dangling restraining ring. Then, she made the boy stand on the stool, and she climbed up next to him to secure his wrists to the straps above his head. When it was done, she patted the boy?s bottom gently, stepped down and pulled the footstool out from under his feet, leaving him dangling a few inches above the floor. It reminded me of a ?hanging,? and this also aroused some incongruous feelings in me, which I ashamedly suppressed to the best of my ability.

On Mrs. Farley?s instruction, the maid approached me and handed me the whip. She flashed me a discreet, conspiratorial smile as she proffered the handle. I took it but felt a little embarrassed at handling the unfamiliar and cruel implement. I was at a loss at how to proceed, and I looked back at Mrs. Farley for some kind of guidance.

?I?ll let you have a free hand,? said Mrs. Farley. ?You may give him as many lashes as you see fit.? Seeing my embarrassed awkwardness, she added, ?You can lash him as hard as you like, anywhere you like, and you may judge for yourself when he?s had enough. You are, after all, a nurse.? As a nurse, my job was usually to relieve pain, not inflict it, and I found the prospect of what I was about to do daunting yet, somehow, intriguing. When I still hesitated, she said encouragingly, ?When you?re ready, Nurse Martin.?

I had never before handled a whip so I stood off a little way to try to come to grips with it. I allowed the lash to unfurl until the tip rested on the floor. Then, as I had seen circus ringmasters do, I cracked it with a smart flick of the wrist to try it out. The sharp crack it produced sounded extremely intimidating, and I heard both the youngsters gasp and begin to whimper. The girl especially began sobbing fearfully. I was surprised to find myself experiencing a unique and delightful sense of power, which had me running my tongue around my lips. To the children?s further dismay, I cracked the whip several more times to get used to the feel of it. I did it standing behind the boy.

Up to then, he had been doing his best to put on a brave face in front of me, manfully holding back the tears that threatened to overcome him at any moment. His attempts to preserve his masculine dignity appealed to me and aroused in me a bittersweet tenderness, which intensified the delicious warmth suffusing the most intimate parts of my body. But, the boy?s efforts at bravery were all to no avail.

As I unfurled the whip again and stood ready to commence lashing, he broke down and began to weep like a terrified little girl. My nipples stood up and hardened under the starched white bra and blouse of my nurse?s uniform.

My mind could not help dwelling on the fact that I did not know what he had done to deserve punishment and therefore did not know how severe I was expected to be. Had he, in fact, done anything wrong? Or was he simply serving as an unwilling subject for my trial demonstration? I told myself it was not my concern, but the sweet sensations I was experiencing were, to my acute shame, unjustifiably further intensified at the enormity of the injustice this last idea suggested. Well, his stepmother had said that the severity of his punishment was up to me, had she not? Well, so be it, I thought.

Ready to start, I raised my whip hand, ?and then, I whirled the whip around my head and sent the lash coiling as violently as I could manage around the boy?s haunches. Oh, how he shrieked as the lash burned a livid welt around his thighs and bottom. My tongue slid out between my lips as I swung the whip again, this time at his legs. He was struggling, wailing and gasping in agony now, but nevertheless, I lashed him with formidable force around his tummy. By now, I was getting a feel for the whip. I settled down to lash him as hard as I could all over with a slow and steady rhythm. As I delivered lash after lash, now to his torso, now to his head, I became acutely aware that the sweet sensation between my thighs had consolidated into a pulsating and urgent throb, which synchronized with the rhythm of the lash. My panties had become soaking wet, bunching up and sinking deeper between my labia with each violent lash I delivered. The boy?s shrieks and screams filled the room in time to the swishing, whooping and cracking of the whip as I continued to wield it with increasing passion.

I paused for a moment to catch my breath, which was coming in short, panting gasps, and I saw that the boy, in spite of his obvious suffering, was experiencing an erection.

I was amazed. Being the mother of two daughters, I had had relatively little experience with adolescent boys, except occasionally as patients who had needed caring for. My feelings were in tumult. Was this boy, I found myself wondering, actually enjoying his suffering at my hands? Yet, he was clearly in terrible agony. I supposed then that it was perhaps no less of a contradiction that a woman, like myself, was having her love juices made to flow by dominating a young male so completely.

In a sudden paroxysm of cruel passion, I hefted the whip once again and directed the lash at his stiff, young organ. The tip of the lash struck his penis, and the violent impact caused tiny droplets of pre-cum to spray in all directions. Oh dear, how the poor boy howled and screamed in agony.

I was in front of him now, and my tongue lay curled up and spread large upon my upper lip as I concentrated. His pain-crazed eyes were drawn to it like magnets, and I found this rather delightful. I moved closer to him and leaned forwards to give him a better view. His penis was still erect and hard, though I could see the fierce welt around it produced by my lash. I allowed my tongue to slide large and slowly back and forth across my lips. His feverish eyes never left it. Suddenly, I again sent the lash curling around him. He screamed with fresh urgency and began to twitch as his organ pumped out a child-sized squirt of sperm onto the floor.

I waited until he had ceased gyrating and hung limp and drained. He was now done, I realized, with whatever enjoyment he had derived from this punishment. From now on, I thought with cruel relish, whatever pain he was about to feel would be just that ? pain - without enjoyment. I stepped back and then joyfully proceeded to deliver a prolonged and slowly measured flurry of ferocious lashes to his already scarred and blooded midriff, haunches and legs. When he was sobbing with pain and exhaustion and seemed on the point of fainting, wrung out physically and emotionally, unable to cope with any more, I lashed him three or four times more and then coiled up the whip to signal that the ordeal was over.

Mrs. Farley rose from her couch and approached me, her eyes shining with pleasure.

?That was wonderful,? she exclaimed. ?Considering you haven?t done this before, you show a remarkable aptitude.? I was flushed and panting as softly as I could, doing my utmost to hide the emotions stirred in me by my own cruelty, but it was not easy. The delicious and urgent throbbing persisted unrelentingly in my nether regions, especially when I glanced at the small, naked figure still hanging there, all limp and covered with a criss-cross pattern of blooded welts, and I surreptitiously squeezed my thighs together. My head was reeling with shameful thoughts; it was I who had reduced him to such a state. It was I who had determined the awful severity of his punishment. And to be so cruel had felt simply delicious!

My thoughts were interrupted by Mrs. Farley?s voice. ?As soon as I met you, I felt you were the right person for the job,? she said. ?And, so far, my instincts have proved accurate.?

? Susan?? This last was addressed to the maid. ?Release young Timmy, take him to the bathroom and tend to him. Then come back here.?

?Very well, Madam,? said the maid. She proceeded to unfetter the boy. The poor youngster could hardly stand up on his feet, let alone walk, and he ended up being half carried by the maid. She was none too gentle as she bustled him out, and I noticed a cruel, frowning smile on her face. ?Well, well,? I thought wryly, ?it seems to be infectious!?

While we waited for the maid to return, Mrs. Farley poured me a cup of tea, and we sat on the couch to chat, taking no notice of the abject, naked and weeping, young girl kneeling at our feet. I took the opportunity to clear up the one point that had been nagging at me.

?If you don?t mind my asking, what did they do to deserve punishment?? Mrs. Farley seemed a little embarrassed by my question; perhaps thinking it was none of my business. However, she deigned to reply.

?In truth, Nurse Martin, they haven?t actually done anything wrong. Not this time.? I had known it all along! ?Today?s session is to show them how they will be disciplined in future. It is also, as I mentioned earlier, a demonstration of your ability to carry out the punishments to my satisfaction.? She went on, ?And I am pleased to say you have impressed me very much so far. I must say, you were extremely severe with young Timmy, and that is exactly what he needs right now. I liked the way in which you allowed him to release his involuntary pubescent reaction and then severely thrashed him again afterwards. It served to remind him that he was being punished, not indulged in his pleasure.? I flushed a little guiltily. The real truth of the matter that I had to face if I were to be honest with myself was that I had done it very deliberately just to be cruel, to make him suffer for me, for my pleasure, and I was still trying to come to terms with that. Of course, I said nothing.

A short time later the nurse returned, and Mrs. Farley turned her attention to the girl at our feet. ?Right, child,? she intoned sternly, ?You?ve seen how strict Nurse Martin is. Now it?s your turn to feel it.? The girl burst out in wailing tears. Her voice tight with stern authority, Mrs. Farley ordered the maid to prepare her for punishment. The girl became hysterical, begging to be spared and protesting her innocence, but it was no good. The maid dragged her, struggling and screaming, to the middle of the room.

Glancing furtively at Mrs. Farley, I noticed a smile of cruel anticipation on her attractive face and realized there was more to these punishments than just instilling discipline. Well, I thought, it was her prerogative, whatever her reasons. She had not liked my asking about it. I was, after all, to be paid handsomely for my efforts, so mine was not to reason why.

In a matter of moments, the girl hung helplessly by her wrists, waiting to be thrashed. Once more, I was handed the whip. I stood myself in front of her and let it uncoil ominously. She cried in panic, and begged me not to lash her. I said nothing, but gazed sternly and meaningfully at her. I cracked the whip several times to further intimidate her. The sound and sight of it drove the girl into a frenzy of panic, her eyes wide with dread. That sweet throbbing down below resumed with a vengeance. I looked her in the eye, slowly ran my tongue across my lips and walked with measured steps to a position behind her, my nipples hard. I was going to give her hell!

And I did just that. I lashed her, and lashed her, and lashed her, and lashed her from every angle without restraint. I lashed her with mercilessly cruel abandon and as hard as I knew how. I thrashed every inch of her young flesh and left it suffused with livid red and bloody stripes. And by momentarily obscuring her stepmother?s view by standing in her line of vision, I even surreptitiously managed to flick the lash smartly and maliciously between the child?s legs more than once.

And, oh dear, how she screamed and screamed! But no matter how much she screamed and struggled, she could not escape the merciless scourging of my cruel lash. I paused every now and again to give her a little time to gather her strength; I wanted this to last! Then, I recommenced thrashing her harder and with more cruelty than ever. By now, my breath was coming in short gasps as the merciless throbbing inside my wet panties became impossibly intense. I began involuntarily to whimper and moan softly with each lash I delivered, and I could feel the wetness between my legs sopping each time I swung the lash.

After about fifty or more lashes, the girl finally fainted. The struggling, shrieking and sobbing stopped, and she suddenly went limp. I squeezed my thighs together to contain the volcanic eruption that was taking place between them, and let out involuntary but clearly audible sighs as I succumbed to my feelings. I looked over at Mrs. Farley, flushed and embarrassed, as I coiled up the whip, still trembling from my erogenous convulsions. Did she know why I had sighed so?

?It?s alright, Nurse Martin,? she said reassuringly as she came towards me, ?it?s only natural.? I flushed hotly with embarrassment and shame. She knew! She, herself, also seemed flushed and breathless.

While the maid tended to the girl, Mrs. Farley and I returned to the sitting room to talk. I gladly accepted the job, I told her, and would await her call.

Over the following few months, I was called on to play my role of disciplinarian with increasing frequency. I never again asked whether the children were guilty or innocent of any wrongdoing, and I looked forward with great anticipation to each call. Likewise, Mrs. Farley was always pleased at my coming. Not so the children!

The young boy seemed to have mixed feelings about my visits. He was terrified of me, with good reason of course, and yet he always experienced an ejaculation while I was lashing him. After that, it was hell for him.

The girl, however, simply dreaded my coming with very good reason. I took great pleasure in making her suffer. She always begged me not to lash her breasts and between her legs, but it was always to no avail.

Through my visits I was able to get to know Mrs. Farley better. I better understood, also, her reasons for calling me so often, though it was never really mentioned outright. She spoke of the ?maternal instinct for correction? and ?authoritarian emotions,? and how I was not to feel guilty or ashamed of experiencing them. In her book, they were natural symptoms of ?aroused feminine passion,? and she said she shared them with me during the sessions.

I also struck up an acquaintanceship with Susan, the maid. She had worked there for five years. She confessed to me that when Mrs. Farley had first engaged me, she had been a little put out. She had known, she said, of Mrs. Farley?s plans for disciplinary measures for the children, and she had hoped to be asked to do the job. She had even gone as far as buying a cane for the purpose to show Mrs. Farley how truly dedicated she was. However, Mrs. Farley had had strict criteria for the prospective disciplinarian, and Susan, being a young, unmarried woman, did not measure up. She did not feel too badly about it now, she said, since she was always allowed to watch the proceedings and enjoyed them thoroughly. But, there was more.

?You mustn?t tell,? she confided, giggling, ?but when I take them to the bathroom afterwards, I sometimes cane them too. Especially young Timmy.? Her tongue sensuously traversed her lips before she added, ?While Jane (the girl) is screaming from your attentions in the Games Room, no-one can hear Timmy?s screams in the bathroom.? She had seen me in action often enough to know that I would understand the nature of her feelings.

?I?ll probably be a mother myself someday,? she said, and then added, ?but I won?t treat my children like that.? I laughed and told her that, believe it or not, I never laid a hand on mine either.

And, in a nutshell, there lies the nub of the matter. I had rediscovered feelings I thought I had lost with the passing of puberty. I hesitate, even now, to admit to myself that I am a sadist. Yet, how can I otherwise account for the deliciously pungent and sweet feelings aroused in me when I was engaged in those cruel practices? And that I was deliberately cruel, I shamefully admit. I punished those children with extreme cruelty precisely because they were not my own, and I did not have to live with the consequences. I was free to indulge myself, and I did so with profound pleasure.

During one call, Mrs. Farley had to go out unexpectedly, much to her disappointment, just as I arrived. Rather than having me make a wasted journey, she told me to go ahead anyway. So I conducted that session on my own with Susan assisting. Well, when the cat?s away!

The children?s stepmother had never interfered with my methods, or ever stopped me, even in my cruellest moments, but perhaps unsurprisingly, there was always an intangible measure of restraint with her presence. Now I was in charge.

By way of a change, I dealt with the girl first. And, oh my, how I made her suffer! I cruelly whipped her into unconsciousness over a very protracted and sustained period of time. Then I asked Susan to revive her, which she did with a wet sponge. After I had let her rest for a short time to regain her strength, I recommenced lashing her with increased severity until she passed out again. As I was lashing the poor girl, I imagined my husband was watching me, even giving me his amorous attentions. To young Susan?s gratification and amusement, I came to a panting and moaning climax as the girl lost consciousness once again.

Once Susan had taken the girl to the bathroom, I sat on the couch and took the boy on my lap. I knew he was ashamed at being treated like a small child, but he dared not resist. I cuddled him and kissed him, and explained in motherly tones that discipline was a vital part of his growing up.

I pointed out that his erections were clear proof of that. Then I began to gently fondle his young organ, which almost instantaneously hardened. I told him that he would learn to respect women in the way they deserved, and that would make him grow up into a proper man.

?Let me show you,? I said, getting a little carried away, ?how a woman likes to be kissed.? And I did so. He was still afraid, yet his penis showed his tacit enjoyment as my adult tongue thrust and probed into his mouth. I opened my white blouse and bared one breast, and then pushed the nipple into the boy?s mouth. While I was enjoying the sensation of his sucking at my breast like a baby, I thought I could hear anguished screams coming from the direction of the bathroom; it had to have been the girl receiving supplementary attention from young Susan?s cane.

When she returned to the Games Room, Susan was flushed and a little breathless. She squealed with delight when she saw what I was doing to the boy. ?Oh, how sweet!? she carolled.

Well, I thought, enough was enough; I still had a job to do. ?Get him ready if you please, Susan,? I said. The boy began to whimper as the maid seized his hand to hang him up for whipping. In no time at all, the boy hung there crying, and I stood, my tongue between my lips and the whip uncoiled, ready to strike.

I gave him a severe lashing, during which he had his customary orgasm. After his juices were spent, I whipped him even more severely for much longer than usual, walking around him and lashing him from various angles, until he too fainted, and I was panting breathlessly and moaning with tumultuous ?authoritarian emotion.?

Susan took him down and revived him so he could walk to the bathroom. As she was leading him out, she stopped briefly to smile at me, and lowering her eyes demurely, silently bade me to follow. The poor boy could barely walk and progress was slow.

When we got to the bathroom, Susan rubbed the child?s welted, striped body with an antiseptic solution, which stung and made him cry some more. Then she produced a length of nylon cord tied in a loop at one end. The boy obviously knew what it portended because his tears took on fresh urgency, and he begged for mercy. Susan, ignoring his pleas, passed the loop over his wrists and pulled it tight. She placed a low, wooden towel rack, which had been standing in one corner, in the middle of the room. She ordered him crisply to bend over it, but by pulling the free end of the cord, she gave him no other option. Now, she tied the cord to a lower bar on the far side of the rack, and so the boy was forcibly bent over it, unable to move. She opened a cupboard and produced a long, thin, rattan cane.

?This is the cane I bought,? she told me with girlish glee and took a few practice swings in the air, making the cane swish in its characteristically ominous manner. The boy was sobbing desperately, begging not to be caned. The young woman took up a position at right angles to the boy?s buttocks and laid the cane gently on his cheeks. She ran her tongue around her lips and lifted the cane high above her head. She waited. Then ? she brought it down hard and fast to impact squarely on the boy?s buttocks, bending her knees for maximum force. He was still wet with the antiseptic solution, and the sound of the cane striking his wet flesh was particularly sharp. How he screamed!

She caned him hard and for what seemed an age, her youthful exuberance making her surprisingly cruel. She did not seem to care that he had already suffered profusely at my hands. I found myself deeply aroused at how cruelly this young woman, ten or more years my junior, indulged her passion.

The boy passed out yet again, and Susan moaned and panted in short gasps as she experienced violent, multiple orgasms. At the same time, I, myself, shuddered as the familiar throbbing inspired by the young woman?s authoritarian demonstration culminated in yet another sweet eruption. It was ironic to think that such cruelty to innocent children culminated in such ?authoritarian emotions? from which beautiful babies were conceived.

I have not told my husband about my excursions into domestic discipline, even though they ceased a month ago when the Farley family, to my surprise and, I will say disappointment, moved out. Like most men, I suppose, he probably put my increased conjugal appetite down to his irresistible charm. I do not mind that. I do love him dearly, and I am happy that those poor children?s suffering has been good for something.

Disciplinary Measures

My name is Ruth Martin. I am thirty-seven years old, happily married with two children, both girls in their pre-teens, and I work as a District Nurse. I make house calls in my capacity as nurse all over the district during the day and usually return home to my family in the early evening. My life is interesting, well regulated and happy. I think I can say I am good-looking, with my dark, shoulder length hair tied back in a tail, though I am, perhaps, a little plumper round the middle, fuller in the hips, than I should be; possibly this is a symptom of conservative complacency, but I am not apologising for it. However, over the past year, I have had reason to take a good, hard, long look at myself and ask myself just what kind of a person I really am.

A little more than a year ago, I was called to one of the larger houses in our rather affluent district. On arrival, I was shown into a spacious living room, where an elegant lady introduced herself as Mrs. Farley, the lady of the house. She was about my age, quite pretty with her long, blond hair piled up on her head and clear, blue eyes. She told me that she wanted me to attend to her two stepchildren, a girl of fifteen and a boy of thirteen. In confidential tones, she began to explain that the children needed a firm hand, but that it should not be hers as she was afraid it might alienate her from her husband, the children?s father. I was a bit puzzled by all this so I asked her what was wrong with them. She laughed and told me they were both in perfect health. She said what they wanted was not so much a nurse as a ?disciplinarian? to administer punishments when required. I was somewhat taken aback at this and must have looked it. Mrs. Farley explained that she wished her stepchildren to learn the meaning of discipline and respect, usually a parent?s task to instil. However, because she was not their real mother, she felt she could not handle this herself; it had to be another person, a disinterested party with authority, and it had to be a woman, preferably herself a mother. She thought I qualified admirably, being a nurse and a mother, a figure of authority, and she named an impressive figure to be paid per session for my services should I agree. I did not know what to say.

?Perhaps you should meet the children,? said Mrs. Farley, pressing a bell push. A few moments later, a maid ushered the girl and boy into our presence. The boy was more pretty than handsome, with longish, dark hair and a slender figure. The girl?s hair was blond, and she had a pretty if rather petulant face. The introductions over, Mrs. Farley explained to the children who I was and why I was there. They both gasped with shock and apprehension on hearing what my proposed role in their lives was to be. To the children?s horror she then suggested that I demonstrate my ability in order to decide on whether I could, or would, accept the offer. After a little hesitation while I regarded the two wide-eyed and apprehensive children, I rather doubtfully agreed to try.

Mrs. Farley rang for the maid and instructed her to prepare them for punishment. The maid was a pretty, young, blond woman in her mid twenties. She wore a typical maid?s uniform, which made her look quite fetching. Leaving them for the moment, Mrs. Farley led me to the Games Room, where, she said, the punishments would take place.

It was a large room with a covered billiard table pushed to one side and here and there other items of sporting activities scattered around. In the centre of the ceiling hung a restraining ring fitted with leather straps. Mrs. Farley drew my attention to a long whip, which was hanging on one wall. She told me it was a nylon circus whip. It was, she said, what she wanted me to use. I found the idea rather daunting.

The door opened, and in walked the two children, shepherded by the maid. I caught my breath; they were both stark naked! They advanced further into the room with uncertain steps, seemingly shy and embarrassed to be paraded naked in front of me, and this affected me in a curious way.

I began to experience an intriguing sensation of delicious, tingling warmth down below my abdomen, and I ran my tongue over my lips in tacit response.

Mrs. Farley made the girl kneel down submissively in front of the couch on which she had sat, and then she ordered the maid to get the boy ready. This involved the maid?s taking him by the hand and leading him to the centre of the room. Once there, she fetched a low stool and placed it under the dangling restraining ring. Then, she made the boy stand on the stool, and she climbed up next to him to secure his wrists to the straps above his head. When it was done, she patted the boy?s bottom gently, stepped down and pulled the footstool out from under his feet, leaving him dangling a few inches above the floor. It reminded me of a ?hanging,? and this also aroused some incongruous feelings in me, which I ashamedly suppressed to the best of my ability.

On Mrs. Farley?s instruction, the maid approached me and handed me the whip. She flashed me a discreet, conspiratorial smile as she proffered the handle. I took it but felt a little embarrassed at handling the unfamiliar and cruel implement. I was at a loss at how to proceed, and I looked back at Mrs. Farley for some kind of guidance.

?I?ll let you have a free hand,? said Mrs. Farley. ?You may give him as many lashes as you see fit.? Seeing my embarrassed awkwardness, she added, ?You can lash him as hard as you like, anywhere you like, and you may judge for yourself when he?s had enough. You are, after all, a nurse.? As a nurse, my job was usually to relieve pain, not inflict it, and I found the prospect of what I was about to do daunting yet, somehow, intriguing. When I still hesitated, she said encouragingly, ?When you?re ready, Nurse Martin.?

I had never before handled a whip so I stood off a little way to try to come to grips with it. I allowed the lash to unfurl until the tip rested on the floor. Then, as I had seen circus ringmasters do, I cracked it with a smart flick of the wrist to try it out. The sharp crack it produced sounded extremely intimidating, and I heard both the youngsters gasp and begin to whimper. The girl especially began sobbing fearfully. I was surprised to find myself experiencing a unique and delightful sense of power, which had me running my tongue around my lips. To the children?s further dismay, I cracked the whip several more times to get used to the feel of it. I did it standing behind the boy.

Up to then, he had been doing his best to put on a brave face in front of me, manfully holding back the tears that threatened to overcome him at any moment. His attempts to preserve his masculine dignity appealed to me and aroused in me a bittersweet tenderness, which intensified the delicious warmth suffusing the most intimate parts of my body. But, the boy?s efforts at bravery were all to no avail.

As I unfurled the whip again and stood ready to commence lashing, he broke down and began to weep like a terrified little girl. My nipples stood up and hardened under the starched white bra and blouse of my nurse?s uniform.

My mind could not help dwelling on the fact that I did not know what he had done to deserve punishment and therefore did not know how severe I was expected to be. Had he, in fact, done anything wrong? Or was he simply serving as an unwilling subject for my trial demonstration? I told myself it was not my concern, but the sweet sensations I was experiencing were, to my acute shame, unjustifiably further intensified at the enormity of the injustice this last idea suggested. Well, his stepmother had said that the severity of his punishment was up to me, had she not? Well, so be it, I thought.

Ready to start, I raised my whip hand, ?and then, I whirled the whip around my head and sent the lash coiling as violently as I could manage around the boy?s haunches. Oh, how he shrieked as the lash burned a livid welt around his thighs and bottom. My tongue slid out between my lips as I swung the whip again, this time at his legs. He was struggling, wailing and gasping in agony now, but nevertheless, I lashed him with formidable force around his tummy. By now, I was getting a feel for the whip. I settled down to lash him as hard as I could all over with a slow and steady rhythm. As I delivered lash after lash, now to his torso, now to his head, I became acutely aware that the sweet sensation between my thighs had consolidated into a pulsating and urgent throb, which synchronized with the rhythm of the lash. My panties had become soaking wet, bunching up and sinking deeper between my labia with each violent lash I delivered. The boy?s shrieks and screams filled the room in time to the swishing, whooping and cracking of the whip as I continued to wield it with increasing passion.

I paused for a moment to catch my breath, which was coming in short, panting gasps, and I saw that the boy, in spite of his obvious suffering, was experiencing an erection.

I was amazed. Being the mother of two daughters, I had had relatively little experience with adolescent boys, except occasionally as patients who had needed caring for. My feelings were in tumult. Was this boy, I found myself wondering, actually enjoying his suffering at my hands? Yet, he was clearly in terrible agony. I supposed then that it was perhaps no less of a contradiction that a woman, like myself, was having her love juices made to flow by dominating a young male so completely.

In a sudden paroxysm of cruel passion, I hefted the whip once again and directed the lash at his stiff, young organ. The tip of the lash struck his penis, and the violent impact caused tiny droplets of pre-cum to spray in all directions. Oh dear, how the poor boy howled and screamed in agony.

I was in front of him now, and my tongue lay curled up and spread large upon my upper lip as I concentrated. His pain-crazed eyes were drawn to it like magnets, and I found this rather delightful. I moved closer to him and leaned forwards to give him a better view. His penis was still erect and hard, though I could see the fierce welt around it produced by my lash. I allowed my tongue to slide large and slowly back and forth across my lips. His feverish eyes never left it. Suddenly, I again sent the lash curling around him. He screamed with fresh urgency and began to twitch as his organ pumped out a child-sized squirt of sperm onto the floor.

I waited until he had ceased gyrating and hung limp and drained. He was now done, I realized, with whatever enjoyment he had derived from this punishment. From now on, I thought with cruel relish, whatever pain he was about to feel would be just that ? pain - without enjoyment. I stepped back and then joyfully proceeded to deliver a prolonged and slowly measured flurry of ferocious lashes to his already scarred and blooded midriff, haunches and legs. When he was sobbing with pain and exhaustion and seemed on the point of fainting, wrung out physically and emotionally, unable to cope with any more, I lashed him three or four times more and then coiled up the whip to signal that the ordeal was over.

Mrs. Farley rose from her couch and approached me, her eyes shining with pleasure.

?That was wonderful,? she exclaimed. ?Considering you haven?t done this before, you show a remarkable aptitude.? I was flushed and panting as softly as I could, doing my utmost to hide the emotions stirred in me by my own cruelty, but it was not easy. The delicious and urgent throbbing persisted unrelentingly in my nether regions, especially when I glanced at the small, naked figure still hanging there, all limp and covered with a criss-cross pattern of blooded welts, and I surreptitiously squeezed my thighs together. My head was reeling with shameful thoughts; it was I who had reduced him to such a state. It was I who had determined the awful severity of his punishment. And to be so cruel had felt simply delicious!

My thoughts were interrupted by Mrs. Farley?s voice. ?As soon as I met you, I felt you were the right person for the job,? she said. ?And, so far, my instincts have proved accurate.?

? Susan?? This last was addressed to the maid. ?Release young Timmy, take him to the bathroom and tend to him. Then come back here.?

?Very well, Madam,? said the maid. She proceeded to unfetter the boy. The poor youngster could hardly stand up on his feet, let alone walk, and he ended up being half carried by the maid. She was none too gentle as she bustled him out, and I noticed a cruel, frowning smile on her face. ?Well, well,? I thought wryly, ?it seems to be infectious!?

While we waited for the maid to return, Mrs. Farley poured me a cup of tea, and we sat on the couch to chat, taking no notice of the abject, naked and weeping, young girl kneeling at our feet. I took the opportunity to clear up the one point that had been nagging at me.

?If you don?t mind my asking, what did they do to deserve punishment?? Mrs. Farley seemed a little embarrassed by my question; perhaps thinking it was none of my business. However, she deigned to reply.

?In truth, Nurse Martin, they haven?t actually done anything wrong. Not this time.? I had known it all along! ?Today?s session is to show them how they will be disciplined in future. It is also, as I mentioned earlier, a demonstration of your ability to carry out the punishments to my satisfaction.? She went on, ?And I am pleased to say you have impressed me very much so far. I must say, you were extremely severe with young Timmy, and that is exactly what he needs right now. I liked the way in which you allowed him to release his involuntary pubescent reaction and then severely thrashed him again afterwards. It served to remind him that he was being punished, not indulged in his pleasure.? I flushed a little guiltily. The real truth of the matter that I had to face if I were to be honest with myself was that I had done it very deliberately just to be cruel, to make him suffer for me, for my pleasure, and I was still trying to come to terms with that. Of course, I said nothing.

A short time later the nurse returned, and Mrs. Farley turned her attention to the girl at our feet. ?Right, child,? she intoned sternly, ?You?ve seen how strict Nurse Martin is. Now it?s your turn to feel it.? The girl burst out in wailing tears. Her voice tight with stern authority, Mrs. Farley ordered the maid to prepare her for punishment. The girl became hysterical, begging to be spared and protesting her innocence, but it was no good. The maid dragged her, struggling and screaming, to the middle of the room.

Glancing furtively at Mrs. Farley, I noticed a smile of cruel anticipation on her attractive face and realized there was more to these punishments than just instilling discipline. Well, I thought, it was her prerogative, whatever her reasons. She had not liked my asking about it. I was, after all, to be paid handsomely for my efforts, so mine was not to reason why.

In a matter of moments, the girl hung helplessly by her wrists, waiting to be thrashed. Once more, I was handed the whip. I stood myself in front of her and let it uncoil ominously. She cried in panic, and begged me not to lash her. I said nothing, but gazed sternly and meaningfully at her. I cracked the whip several times to further intimidate her. The sound and sight of it drove the girl into a frenzy of panic, her eyes wide with dread. That sweet throbbing down below resumed with a vengeance. I looked her in the eye, slowly ran my tongue across my lips and walked with measured steps to a position behind her, my nipples hard. I was going to give her hell!

And I did just that. I lashed her, and lashed her, and lashed her, and lashed her from every angle without restraint. I lashed her with mercilessly cruel abandon and as hard as I knew how. I thrashed every inch of her young flesh and left it suffused with livid red and bloody stripes. And by momentarily obscuring her stepmother?s view by standing in her line of vision, I even surreptitiously managed to flick the lash smartly and maliciously between the child?s legs more than once.

And, oh dear, how she screamed and screamed! But no matter how much she screamed and struggled, she could not escape the merciless scourging of my cruel lash. I paused every now and again to give her a little time to gather her strength; I wanted this to last! Then, I recommenced thrashing her harder and with more cruelty than ever. By now, my breath was coming in short gasps as the merciless throbbing inside my wet panties became impossibly intense. I began involuntarily to whimper and moan softly with each lash I delivered, and I could feel the wetness between my legs sopping each time I swung the lash.

After about fifty or more lashes, the girl finally fainted. The struggling, shrieking and sobbing stopped, and she suddenly went limp. I squeezed my thighs together to contain the volcanic eruption that was taking place between them, and let out involuntary but clearly audible sighs as I succumbed to my feelings. I looked over at Mrs. Farley, flushed and embarrassed, as I coiled up the whip, still trembling from my erogenous convulsions. Did she know why I had sighed so?

?It?s alright, Nurse Martin,? she said reassuringly as she came towards me, ?it?s only natural.? I flushed hotly with embarrassment and shame. She knew! She, herself, also seemed flushed and breathless.

While the maid tended to the girl, Mrs. Farley and I returned to the sitting room to talk. I gladly accepted the job, I told her, and would await her call.

Over the following few months, I was called on to play my role of disciplinarian with increasing frequency. I never again asked whether the children were guilty or innocent of any wrongdoing, and I looked forward with great anticipation to each call. Likewise, Mrs. Farley was always pleased at my coming. Not so the children!

The young boy seemed to have mixed feelings about my visits. He was terrified of me, with good reason of course, and yet he always experienced an ejaculation while I was lashing him. After that, it was hell for him.

The girl, however, simply dreaded my coming with very good reason. I took great pleasure in making her suffer. She always begged me not to lash her breasts and between her legs, but it was always to no avail.

Through my visits I was able to get to know Mrs. Farley better. I better understood, also, her reasons for calling me so often, though it was never really mentioned outright. She spoke of the ?maternal instinct for correction? and ?authoritarian emotions,? and how I was not to feel guilty or ashamed of experiencing them. In her book, they were natural symptoms of ?aroused feminine passion,? and she said she shared them with me during the sessions.

I also struck up an acquaintanceship with Susan, the maid. She had worked there for five years. She confessed to me that when Mrs. Farley had first engaged me, she had been a little put out. She had known, she said, of Mrs. Farley?s plans for disciplinary measures for the children, and she had hoped to be asked to do the job. She had even gone as far as buying a cane for the purpose to show Mrs. Farley how truly dedicated she was. However, Mrs. Farley had had strict criteria for the prospective disciplinarian, and Susan, being a young, unmarried woman, did not measure up. She did not feel too badly about it now, she said, since she was always allowed to watch the proceedings and enjoyed them thoroughly. But, there was more.

?You mustn?t tell,? she confided, giggling, ?but when I take them to the bathroom afterwards, I sometimes cane them too. Especially young Timmy.? Her tongue sensuously traversed her lips before she added, ?While Jane (the girl) is screaming from your attentions in the Games Room, no-one can hear Timmy?s screams in the bathroom.? She had seen me in action often enough to know that I would understand the nature of her feelings.

?I?ll probably be a mother myself someday,? she said, and then added, ?but I won?t treat my children like that.? I laughed and told her that, believe it or not, I never laid a hand on mine either.

And, in a nutshell, there lies the nub of the matter. I had rediscovered feelings I thought I had lost with the passing of puberty. I hesitate, even now, to admit to myself that I am a sadist. Yet, how can I otherwise account for the deliciously pungent and sweet feelings aroused in me when I was engaged in those cruel practices? And that I was deliberately cruel, I shamefully admit. I punished those children with extreme cruelty precisely because they were not my own, and I did not have to live with the consequences. I was free to indulge myself, and I did so with profound pleasure.

During one call, Mrs. Farley had to go out unexpectedly, much to her disappointment, just as I arrived. Rather than having me make a wasted journey, she told me to go ahead anyway. So I conducted that session on my own with Susan assisting. Well, when the cat?s away!

The children?s stepmother had never interfered with my methods, or ever stopped me, even in my cruellest moments, but perhaps unsurprisingly, there was always an intangible measure of restraint with her presence. Now I was in charge.

By way of a change, I dealt with the girl first. And, oh my, how I made her suffer! I cruelly whipped her into unconsciousness over a very protracted and sustained period of time. Then I asked Susan to revive her, which she did with a wet sponge. After I had let her rest for a short time to regain her strength, I recommenced lashing her with increased severity until she passed out again. As I was lashing the poor girl, I imagined my husband was watching me, even giving me his amorous attentions. To young Susan?s gratification and amusement, I came to a panting and moaning climax as the girl lost consciousness once again.

Once Susan had taken the girl to the bathroom, I sat on the couch and took the boy on my lap. I knew he was ashamed at being treated like a small child, but he dared not resist. I cuddled him and kissed him, and explained in motherly tones that discipline was a vital part of his growing up.

I pointed out that his erections were clear proof of that. Then I began to gently fondle his young organ, which almost instantaneously hardened. I told him that he would learn to respect women in the way they deserved, and that would make him grow up into a proper man.

?Let me show you,? I said, getting a little carried away, ?how a woman likes to be kissed.? And I did so. He was still afraid, yet his penis showed his tacit enjoyment as my adult tongue thrust and probed into his mouth. I opened my white blouse and bared one breast, and then pushed the nipple into the boy?s mouth. While I was enjoying the sensation of his sucking at my breast like a baby, I thought I could hear anguished screams coming from the direction of the bathroom; it had to have been the girl receiving supplementary attention from young Susan?s cane.

When she returned to the Games Room, Susan was flushed and a little breathless. She squealed with delight when she saw what I was doing to the boy. ?Oh, how sweet!? she carolled.

Well, I thought, enough was enough; I still had a job to do. ?Get him ready if you please, Susan,? I said. The boy began to whimper as the maid seized his hand to hang him up for whipping. In no time at all, the boy hung there crying, and I stood, my tongue between my lips and the whip uncoiled, ready to strike.

I gave him a severe lashing, during which he had his customary orgasm. After his juices were spent, I whipped him even more severely for much longer than usual, walking around him and lashing him from various angles, until he too fainted, and I was panting breathlessly and moaning with tumultuous ?authoritarian emotion.?

Susan took him down and revived him so he could walk to the bathroom. As she was leading him out, she stopped briefly to smile at me, and lowering her eyes demurely, silently bade me to follow. The poor boy could barely walk and progress was slow.

When we got to the bathroom, Susan rubbed the child?s welted, striped body with an antiseptic solution, which stung and made him cry some more. Then she produced a length of nylon cord tied in a loop at one end. The boy obviously knew what it portended because his tears took on fresh urgency, and he begged for mercy. Susan, ignoring his pleas, passed the loop over his wrists and pulled it tight. She placed a low, wooden towel rack, which had been standing in one corner, in the middle of the room. She ordered him crisply to bend over it, but by pulling the free end of the cord, she gave him no other option. Now, she tied the cord to a lower bar on the far side of the rack, and so the boy was forcibly bent over it, unable to move. She opened a cupboard and produced a long, thin, rattan cane.

?This is the cane I bought,? she told me with girlish glee and took a few practice swings in the air, making the cane swish in its characteristically ominous manner. The boy was sobbing desperately, begging not to be caned. The young woman took up a position at right angles to the boy?s buttocks and laid the cane gently on his cheeks. She ran her tongue around her lips and lifted the cane high above her head. She waited. Then ? she brought it down hard and fast to impact squarely on the boy?s buttocks, bending her knees for maximum force. He was still wet with the antiseptic solution, and the sound of the cane striking his wet flesh was particularly sharp. How he screamed!

She caned him hard and for what seemed an age, her youthful exuberance making her surprisingly cruel. She did not seem to care that he had already suffered profusely at my hands. I found myself deeply aroused at how cruelly this young woman, ten or more years my junior, indulged her passion.

The boy passed out yet again, and Susan moaned and panted in short gasps as she experienced violent, multiple orgasms. At the same time, I, myself, shuddered as the familiar throbbing inspired by the young woman?s authoritarian demonstration culminated in yet another sweet eruption. It was ironic to think that such cruelty to innocent children culminated in such ?authoritarian emotions? from which beautiful babies were conceived.

I have not told my husband about my excursions into domestic discipline, even though they ceased a month ago when the Farley family, to my surprise and, I will say disappointment, moved out. Like most men, I suppose, he probably put my increased conjugal appetite down to his irresistible charm. I do not mind that. I do love him dearly, and I am happy that those poor children?s suffering has been good for something.

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For the first few weeks working at Joelle’s, my feet never really touched the floor. This was everything I had dreamed of, and more. In case you don’t know about her - though I’d be curious if you didn’t - Joelle’s the woman who turned makeup into a true art. Where others only “applied” lipstick, rouge and eye shadow, she painted with an artist’s skill and turned the plainest women into goddesses, into true artwork. Nobody knew her surname, and nobody needed to. All the big stars flocked to her...

Barbie Measurements

Cecelia and I had been down in their big, basement playroom having fun that hot afternoon, playing computer games on a big screen mostly, when she asked, “Want to see my Barbie collection?” Nobody was home in the big house. I remember it was late summer and kind of exciting to see some girl’s bedroom. We had been friends for a long time, two or three years I guess. So I followed her up stairs and she had this whole line of Barbies on a windowsill, maybe two dozen on them, all in costume, a...

CherryPimps Karma RX Pool Boys Get More Pussy Than Boy Bands

You may be thinking to yourself this guy is too old to be a pool boy… well he is not just some loser pool guy. You see, if you watch pornos you know that the pool guy is always getting these hot babes to fuck. Their boyfriends or husbands always seem to be away working and they always seem to be so horny for cock. Sometimes it is just something dumb like flipping a switch and before you know it clothes are off. Always being invited inside for lemonade. This isn’t porn. This is...

Bob Gwen and Harlina

I met Gwen on my first day at work. She was the receptionist and the person who issued me my temporary ID badge and told me where to report in. To say that I was taken by the raven haired beauty with the deep blue eyes would be a massive understatement. Going gaa gaa over her would be closer to the truth. I did notice that there were no rings on her finger. As I walked away from her desk I'd already made up my mind that I was going to try and get something going with her. Easier said than...

The World Of Eros A Goblins Tale

“All day long. Flea do this. Flea do that. Flea do this shit, flea take care of that shit. All day long Flea clean up shit. You know what I mean?” I said looking up at the horse. “No off course you don't. Your a horse. You have it easy. Carry junk from place to place for human then come home stay in nice barn all day with other horses. Flea alone. No other goblins here just Flea.” I shook my head. I was a stable hand for the largest shipping company in the capital. More horses then I could...

Soccer Mom Slave Chapter 4

Brenda lay on the bench staring out the open window. At first, she only heard silence the after last sound of her Master’s car disappeared. Then she started to hear other sounds from outside she hadn’t noticed before. The breeze rustled the leaves on a tree, birds chirping, a train in the distance. All such normal everyday events. Brenda looked at the pony and the reality of what had just transpired crashed into her consciousness. This was by far the cruelest Master had ever treated her. Even...

The Lost One Ch 09

A/N: Hey guys, here’s Ch. 9. Thanks for your patience. This chapter is a short one for it sets up the next chapter, which is another long one. Thank you Blackstallion21 for editing. Well, enjoy. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ IX. Caught in The Middle It took nearly a week to travel through the tunnel. ‘Wonder which way we are headed?’ asked Kyra. ‘South I believe. I remember seeing a map of the world in a book I was studying.’ commented Ophealia. On the morning of the sixth day, Pristine and...

Dazzling Darkness Brightless Light

Dazzling Darkness, Brightless Light by Sagista Warning: This story contains graphic descriptions of violence, and contains sex and other adult themes including sex change. If these things offend you, do not read this story. Note: This story is based in the same story world as my short story I wrote (as Cleo Kraft) called "Dash." ------------- "Water buddy? Water?" "Away from me you slothy beggerman!" Blue green light wave-flickered on then off then on over and...

Jake and Lindseys Halloween Odyssey

Jake was a twenty year old sophomore in college. He loved the college life, and why shouldn't he? Sure, the workouts for the wrestling team were grueling, but they kept him in fantastic shape. That really paid off at parties, and he could always find at least one party to go to on the weekend. Usually though, he was partying both Friday and Saturday night with knowledge of multiple parties on either night so that he could switch venues if he wasn't making any progress with the available women...

Estudando Fiacutesica e Quiacutemica

Hello Readers xHamster I tell a story that happened to me lately. Nany had discovered that I had been betrayed by my husband, a woman skinny-faced bitch. This event took place around July 2010, but I forgave him and decided I would not do the same thing to keep my character intact. More this year, to be exact in August 2011, marked to study with some of my friends including Carla, Philip, Mark and Alan. They came here at home in the afternoon, it's time that my husband is at work. And we began...

Hypnosis

This was something that I have done with others for a long time... the following is a hypnosis script that I use for the ones that want to experience hypnosis do it's deepest levels. This is just the start... but those that read it, wanting to be taken in the spell, can begin to feel what the depths of the mind can bring. If you believe, and if you know that it is real... or could be real... then you will be amazed at what you could feel. Please enjoy.I want you to pay attention to each...

Sherin Is My Addiction Part 8211 1

Hi, all. My name is ak.I’m now 24 years. I’m 6’1 in height, little skinny,98 kgs. I’m basically from Kerala.Now I’m residing at Bengaluru(city of hot girls).I’m one of the regular readers of ISS.I have read most of the stories on this site.My favorite category is incest.This is my first story which I’m writing in a blog ever in my life.So I would like to post it in iss. From my 10th onwards I’m fond of girls and aunt’s boobs whomsoever I meet.Sometimes I feel awkward when I see it.But...

My New Dildo

Last night, I was headed to the shower when i thought "This would be a great time to test out my new dildo". So I got it, and my lube, and got naked as fast as i could. I stuck the dildo to the side of the tub, got and my hands and knees, and started sucking it for about 5 minutes as i jerked myself off. I then got the lube and lubed it up nice and slow, building the suspense. I pressed it slowly into my tight hole, a little at a time. This was the first time i had something this big in my...

Suckloving MotherChapter 3

“You’re not ashamed, are you?” she asked softly. They were lying on her bed, side by side. Jerry had removed his pants, but still wore his t-shirt. Debra was holding his hand at her hip, her foot toying with his. “Not me!” he said. “Honey, you’re going to have to wash your own back from now on.” Debra turned on her side, facing him. “I can’t wash your back any more.” “Why not?” “You saw what happened,” she said softly. “You’re big enough to use a back scrubber.” “But ... what about, you...

An Older Gentlemen Took Control Of My Wife And I

My beautiful wife Ann and I had a great marriage. We loved one another more than the world but that all changed one day about three months ago. My wife Ann and I are in our early forties and loved doing things like biking and taking long walks together. We spent a lot of time together and loved being outdoors. I was Ann’s only partner in life as she only dated me and no one else. We had a great sex life and, in a way, that great sex life maybe the root of our problem we both now share. How it...

Real Life Behind Shining 8211 Part V

Hi to ISS readers I am bit late for my story as I was out of city. Sorry for that For new one I am Sarapa i am 39 years old very white as snow round face long neck big eyes and nice lips I have 38.28.38 and very beautiful feet now goes straight to story as I told to Ramu that maids will not come for next 3 days he became very happy and hold me in his arms and kissed me on my lips I pushed him away and said Ramu sabar karoo bohat time hay abhi jaao bath loo or bahar say pizza lay aao main bhi...

My Wifes Study Group Weekend Get Away

My wife Debbie and I were spending the weekend at an old cabin with her college study group for the after exam get away. About fifteen of us shared the small two-bedroom cabin. At night everyone laid their sleeping bags out on the floor of the main room. It was the middle of winter and with only a small fireplace to heat the cabin the shared warmth of everyone sleeping close together was welcomed. Over the past few days I noticed one of the other guys on the trip, Kevin, had been pay a lot of...

Jessica and Grandpa Part 1

This story is fictional, relating to a teenage girls discovery of sexuality. Chapter 1.Chapter 1 - Jessica'Hi Grandpa' I said, walking in through the front door of my grandparents house, as I saw him walking from the kitchen, through the small hallway about to go into the livingroom, with a cup of coffee in his hand. I'm Jessica, a teen with mousey shoulder long hair, and blue eyes, returning from school that day.My Grandpa, Mike, is around 60, semi-retired from work, and a close friend of...

Well Being and All ThatChapter 4

Having framed Bob’s strange but intriguing ethnic painting of palm trees, cocktails, two suns and Picasso type figures on a beach, I let myself into their smart converted bungalow. Using a new Commando device which utilises Velcro and sticky tape I placed them and stood back to make sure the art work looked good. The scene would leap out at Jackie when she woke up from the bed. While I was in their boudoir, I took a sneaky peep into a laundry basket, finding it empty, ditto one in the...

The Office

It's Monday morning and the office slowly starts to fill up. Computers starting up and queues at the coffee machine. Some people discuss their weekends, but the only real sound is that of computers humming and the coffee machine ticking and slurping. It feels like a regular Monday morning. While most people haven't even finished booting up their computers, a noise slowly starts to build up throughout the office. It's people talking and the noise becomes louder. Finally everybody knows: they all...

7 friends share more than a cabin

The characters Mark: The buff, boastful and overconfident blond footballer dating Ashely. Ashely: The blond bombshell, good looks, big tits, and a superiority complex making her an ideal match to her boyfriend Mark, that is except for her compulsion to flirt. Anthony: A rather low key guy with a slim build short black hair and average looks. Fairly shy he had a past close history with Michelle that died out and now looks to her as his lost crush. Michelle: shoulder length haired brunette and...

SaMs Place Chapter 14 of 15 Psycho Bitch Reposted to correct problems

If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century. Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is...

Jamaica Surprise

Work takes me to the Caribbean occasionally and one time I had a small team with me in Jamaica implementing a new computer system. There were four guys and Sally - blonde; mid-thirties, always showing her ample cleavage, full luscious lips and blue eyes. I’d often fantasised about her whilst stroking my cock in my lonely bed. There was one other girl, Sherry (real name Sherezada) who was of Indo-South American extraction; younger than Sally – perhaps late 20s, with a gorgeous nubile,...

Brother and Sisterly Taboo

Well it had been some time since we had talked about it much, but with just a few words from me about it would embarrass her. But at the same time I could see the excitement she was getting from thinking about it. I could see her squirming and squeezing her legs together. I saw this as my chance so I challenge her to a game of krib. Whenever we played, the winner got the night of his or her wants. And to date there was not a single thing I told her she had to do that she refused. A few that...

DogmanVictory

Day Sixty-six of the experiment, Kalib I was sitting at my desk going over reports. Rala had her mission going well, but the influx of pirates from the seventeenth century earth that had been dumped by the historical group had caused a lot of problems. Min had the third experiment well in hand, and had requested another drop of supplies. Going over the list, the only things I didn't approve of, were several armored vehicles. I removed them from the list and replaced them with some Dodge...

My wife has a new boy toy

It helped that her parents and mine were best friends and we grew up knowing each other. She was always pleasant to me as well as pretty. Growing up I watched her tiny body change and by the age of 15 we started exploring . At 17 we took each other's virginity and from then on it was daily sexual adventure. I got a job at her dad's auto parts store where she worked in the billing office..We were never separated and became a loving family . I loved Rachel and my two boys but we later...

My First Sexual Experience8

I was brought up in a strict Christian household, had to go to church every Sunday with my younger brother and parents. I was 18 I went to the local college where I felt very out of place I had no real friends as I didn't fit in with anyone due to being very shy and the plain Jane clothes I had to wear did not inspire anyone to be friends with me. However one girl who was also 18 called Sue did start getting friendly with me which I liked very much even though she was so very different from...

Fate Steps In

I came from a broken home, my parents died when I was two so I don't really remember, when I was ten I was told that I had a little sister somewhere, but where no-one knew. My childhood wasn't so bad I suppose, I was adopted fairly quickly and though I always knew there was something different about my family I still loved my adoptive parents, even after I was told that I had been adopted. As I grew older I often wondered what had become of my sister, only the orphanage knew why we had been...

JACKING IN PUBLIC

I have a tiny fence in my front yard that comes up to just below my waist and I stand nude behind it and jerk off in public. This one time before I went out I striped down to only a pair of boxers, walked out and looked to see if there was anyone cimming down the street. I saw no one witch was a disapointment but I drpoed my shorts anyway and started to stroke it. I thought I wouild take some public pic to post, so I set up my cam. I live just down the street from a high school witch gives me...

If you cant beat them whats the point of teaching

The system worked like this; a girl would be sent to me with a note from the class teacher detailing the offence. Dependant on circumstances I would decide the punishment and the girl could take it there and then. If she decided not to be beaten there and then and maybe she'd been beaten recently and still felt sore, then the punishment would be entered into a leather bound book. Minor offences were usually awarded swats with a worn and thin soled gymn shoe termed 'the slipper'; this...

First hotel slut weekend

It has been a couple of years since I purged most of my sissy gear... All I had kept was a favourite dildo and my holy trainer nano cage. Having split with my partner I found my urges returning and before I knew it I had bought a new wig and body stocking and a makeup kit and was caged and plugged 24/7. I decided it was time to find some cock and was lucky enough to be travelling to the nearest large city for a week for a work course. I kept myself caged for the whole week leading up to my...

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