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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...

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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...

The Protector Vengence Is MineChapter 2

The first thing Jonas was aware of was the pain in his head. It was throbbing. The second thing that he was aware of was that his hands were tied to the arms of a chair. He noticed they were bound when he tried to touch his head with his hands. The same flash of knowledge informed him that his legs were bound too. "The son of a bitch is coming around," a voice growled. "Good," another, more cultured voice answered. "We need him to be fully conscious and aware before we start." Jonas...

A Fairys Tale Chapter 2

"Taren?" came a familiar voice. Taren stilled, shocked into motionlessness."G-Gaeldess?" he stammered, walking closer. It was indeed his beloved, only the teeny tiny fairy was gone. Replaced by this tall, beautiful woman. "What happened?""I had to do it, my love," Gaeldess said caressing his cheek. "Now I can please you as you please me.""But how did this come about?""The the sorcerer Merticai, who lives atop Mout Kreios," she said."But Gaeldess, he asks a price. Always.""Do not worry, my love....

Supernatural

South indian housewife in 7 days treatment

My name is Anita Singh. I live in a small town in Uttar Pradesh. Presently I am 32 years of age, married. I got married at the age of 25 to Rajesh, who was a shop-owner. My married life started smooth and I was happy with everything. Rajesh and I shared a very good and close relation. My sex life also was quite regular and satisfactory. But bitterness in my life started when Rajesh and I decided we are going to have an issue after two years of our marriage. When even after one year of...

Just Another Day

Kathrine Smith was a daydreamer. She couldn’t stay focused on anything. She was a housewife and mother and liked to escape to the grocery story. She’d walk up and down the aisles thinking of great menu ideas she’d like to make. She just liked to get lost and not be bothered for a while. Katherine was quite miserable in her life. She missed working and instead cared for her three children and her husband. She had an infant, a toddler and a preschooler. She was tired of playing games and washing...

MY Sweet Sexy Aunty

MY Sweet Sexy AuntyI didn’t have sex for many days until my Uncle went to US.She used to be very free and I used to chat with her ,she invited me stay at her house because she is alone with her dauther I used to fantasy her and her daugther, she asked me to sleep in her room as in other room her dauther used to study and sleep .She used to see serials until 10.00pm and used to come into my room and sleep.She is drop-dead gorgeous. 36-26-36, I swear it. 5′8″; smooth, fair skin; beautiful, long...

The Dinner and desert Chapter 3 ndash Appeti

I drew in a breath and then opened the door. The men smiled when they saw me, and the woman giggled. She was the first to speak “Lynn is expecting us, and I doubt she’d appreciate her slut making us wait on the stoop”. A blond, she appeared to be in her mid thirties, and was dressed in a revealing sundress, her tan bare legs attractively rising from her white heels. The first man handed me a bottle of wine as he walked past, his other hand slipping under my skirt, rubbing my ass. “Nice ass”...

Maesons AssistantChapter 18 Taken

Dinner went quietly, or sort of, while Maeson did flirt with Kimber, especially by running his socked foot up and down the inside of her leg, he didn’t really pursue much else. While he wanted to take her, he really didn’t want to do it here in the restaurant and he sure as hell didn’t want to make it quick. Besides teasing her with suggestive movements and brushes he was sure would edge her along as best as any foreplay could. So he teased her legs, never actually touching her sex, he traced...

Padosan Bhabhi Ko Jamkar Thoka Part 8

Hi, girls, aunties, bhabhis First of all, I would like to thanks to all your lovely comments… main unn sab bhabhiyo ko aunties aur ladkiyon ko thanks kehna cahata hun jinhoney merey ko meri e-mail id par apney comments bhejey aur apni sex problems share ki…. Thanks for all the nasty chat girls…. And sorry for my fans jinsey main kaam ki wajha sey itney din dur raha Yeh meri kahani ka seventh part hai so please pasand aye toh mujhey pehley ki tarha mail karna mat bhulna meri id hai ; ; ; Mera...

Mummy ki behan ki chut mari

Now let me tell u something about my aunt she around 32 years of age, 38,28,40 size, she got married around 12 years back with her husband sohan a average guy, from a good family, we have very good relation with them they often come to my house and stay there with there childs, as Im the most cutest boy in my family she always try to hold me or u can say tease me, she always pampered me i also like her, but after one day i got angry with her saying im grown up now so please dont touch me like...

Incest

TabooHeat Cory Chase Interracial Blowbang

The one and only Cory Chase is back on the Dogfart Network! She’s been in the biz for quite a while and shows no signs of slowing down. The very first video of her on the internet was in 2001 and was doing homemade type of stuff well before that even. She lives in Florida and travels out West every few months to do shoots so we are glad to have her this time around. Since the last time we saw her she has just been working on her own stuff and she let’s us in on some of the details...

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Dear Diary Part 1

23/09/2016 Dear diary, I do realize how stupid it is for me to write in a diary. I mean, no one does it anymore in this day and age. And now that I think of it, I was born in a world where social media and the Internet had already become mainstream. I don’t remember ever using an Ethernet cable. Wifi was something I had always take for granted. A time without wireless internet? I can’t believe it. But we’re getting off topic. The reason why I bought you from the university bookstore was...

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Leprechaun

Deana and Mark have planned for a three week trip to Ireland for the past three years. It was the home of her ancestors. This year, their dreams would come true; they have booked the tour through Magical Escapes. On the fifth of March they’d fly to Dublin, see the sites, look up distant relatives, and immerse themselves in Irish culture.She could hardly contain her excitement as they boarded Delta Airlines, destination: Dublin, Ireland. They quickly found their seats and when the plane took...

Supernatural

Questions

I noticed the new comers the day they moved into the house. I lived in a secluded area at the top of a small mountain in the Rockies. The cul-de- sac contained only seven houses, each quite nice, you might even say mansions, if they weren't such rustic designs. I had moved here a few years ago and of course knew all my neighbors. When the Franks moved to the beach, I was surprised, but they were like all of the other residents, older late 50s to mid-60s; the cold weather and snow...

SheLovesBlack Eveline Dellai Valentines Day Anal

Strutting into a palatial estate, Eveline appears to be a princess on parade as she receives some gorgeous Valentine’s Day red roses from her man who has sprinkled rose petals all over the room as a generous display of his love and lust. Taking off her sexy black high heels, strap by strap, Eveline starts to feel so horny for her man, aching to feel his big black cock all over her juicy pussy lips. Like a cat in heat, she starts rubbing her tight pink pussy lips, fingering that sweet juicy pink...

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Black Mens Revenge Against White Klan GirlsChapter 8

One day Sammy took the van and he went into town for supplies. On his way back to the cabin, he almost hit a girl who was hitch-hiking, stepping out into the road as he approached her. He put on the brakes and stopped. "Miss, if you step out in front of cars that way you are going to get yourself killed!" he scolded her. "I don't care." she said. "You got a joint, mister? I'll give you a blowjob for a joint!" Oh, great! He thought. The girl is some pot head. She was a white girl with...

Broken Fantasy Part 6

DISCLAIMER:- The following text is sexually explicit and contains depictions of sexual acts that have been classified by the surgeon general as potentially dangerous and unhealthy. You must be a broad minded adult to read the text, and you must not make this text available to minors or to any person who does not wish to view it. Unprotected sexual relations with unknown partners is hazardous and we urge the use of condoms and safe sex at all times. Broken Fantasy (M/F, Intr, Cuck, Voyeur, Anal,...

Interracial

A week Away Part 2

We stayed up until 1am watching a porn movie together, I was surprised that even after having two intense orgasms I was still horny. We went to bed and fucked again. I lay on my back as he filled my pussy. He was thrusting hard, making my tits wobble as I rubbed them. He leaned in and we kissed, our tongues fighting in our mouths, my legs wrapped round his waist holding him deep inside me. “I wanna fuck you from behind” he whispered in my ear, I giggled in response. I got on all fours,...

I8217m married but my sister8217s husband got me pregnant

From the first time I had sex with a man I became addicted to feeling him shooting his cum inside my pussy. When I felt it would make me cum twice as hard. It’s hard to believe I never got pregnant. I started having sex at 17. I was 23 when I had my first baby with my husband. Four years later we had another. Then three years later me and my sister’s husband had another one. Yes my sister’s husband. I found that the more intense the man’s orgasm, the more intense mine...

Heavy Spiced SubStandard Experience Part 8211 3

We moved towards the garden and two chairs were there. We took the seat and manager pulled a packet of cigarette, he pulled one and started to smoke. After he finished the cigarette he tried to pull another one but the box was empty. He checked the box but definitely, it was empty. He looked at me and pulled his purse out. He gave me some money and said that on the side of the hotel there was a small shop. He said to me to go and get a packet of cigarettes for him. I was shocked to hell, I...

Mrs Vandermeers Rules 4

A day went by, then two. Two became three, which in turn became four, then five. Days filled with longing while my nights were filled with dreams, dreams from which I’d wake up to find my pussy drenched and my nipples as hard as rocks. I’d lay there, face buried in my pillow, hands clenching the edges, desperate to finish the job that my dreams had started as I replayed the memory of me, laying naked on the floor, Mrs. Vandermeer looming over me as I let go a stream of golden liquid…Lick it up,...

BDSM

For the Love of LanaChapter 2

I went all over town looking for him, damn! Figures he wasn't anywhere in town, actually that was pretty smart concidering I was there most of the time. Finally in a cave a few miles from town I felt him, I appeared at the mouth of the cave, calling out to him as I felt my powers fade. "You know, after 5 or 6 hundred years of sleeping at night I've kind of gotten used to it my friend." Gregor came out of the cave had almost reached me when he stopped short, "Shit John what has happened...

A Valentines Surprise

The emerald glowed in the sales clerk's hand. Dave reached for the chain, letting the gem dangle and shimmer in the light. It still glowed as if backlit, and Dave knew it would look fantastic against Jennifer's skin. The single stone would fall just above the valley of her breasts and catch the light every time she laughed. Will leaned in for a closer look. "Wow! That one's more beautiful than any we've seen so far." Dave turned the price tag to Will's view. "Wow again! How can that...

The New Toy

I returned from a run, sweaty and red-faced, stripped off in my room and grabbed a towel, heading for the shower. My flatmate and occasional fuck-buddy Lucy was in the kitchen, an assortment of bags on the table. “Hey, nice view!” I giggled. “Lucy, I’m sweaty for all the wrong reasons. Gonna hit the shower.” She playfully slapped my ass on the way past. “Come up to my room when you’re done, I’ve got a new toy to show you!” She stood up, kissed me on the lips, and grabbed her purchases....

My Wifersquos Audition for TV Serial very eroti

hi,this is not my own experience as it is completely out of my fantasy.i had choosen india to be the place of this story as it is a great country with a blend of modern western and old eastern cultures.you can find there the conservative people and the open minded ones.there is one last reason which is that i really like dark women and brunettes all over the world wherever they are.I wrote a story with no fucking but i'm sure that you will like it cause it is very erotic.you will see how much...

Redemption

I stayed at Cait's place till the end of the week and we figured her mom and dad hadn't noticed anything missing from their closet because they didn't say anything and they were cool and Cait and I had a lot of fun with the toy, and then on Friday afternoon I told them I should be going home and Cait's mom said she could take me because she was heading out anyway so I said “Cool, thanks” and I went to my room to get my things and Cait went with me and I packed my bag and then Cait and I kissed...

Sunday Fun Day

We had just had a fun night at a swingers' party on Saturday night and I woke up happy and relaxed. I didn't think the weekend could get any better. I rose and went out to the kitchen and called my man’s name. I failed to get a response. There was a note lying on the kitchen table telling me his friend had free Patriot tickets. He'd left me at home alone with his son. I wasn't satisfied with just sitting home for my Sunday afternoon. After taking a shower and having coffee, I was bored. I went...

Cheating

Controlling wife taster

Controlling Wife We had been married for a few years, she'd been married before and it had ended acrimoniously, or so she said, not that she ever told me the reasons and I felt it wrong to ask her, though in retrospect the split and what happened to him was a bit confusing too. As to me, I was a shy and quiet person of small build, I suppose you might call me weedy and if I admitted it, I have quite a submissive nature. All my life I had always avoided any confrontations and I...

Business Trip Whore

I was spending a lot of time in Costa Rica for a work project. I discovered it is much easier to live out your fantasies on foreign soil. In Costa Rica, so far away, I could be anyone I wanted. I met many people I knew I’d never see again. And so, the indulgence in debauchery began. The first of which was Pale Red.The work project was of the type to have many employees staying in the same hotel at the same time. This is important, only in that I was not completely free to freewheel it;...

She wears the pants over her cock

I stepped off the plane after three days travelling and was looking forward to going home after a long few weeks of travelling for work. My work regularly has me travelling and I don’t seem to get home as much as I would like anymore. But it does make it even more enjoyable when I do get home. Leaving the gate, I walked down the corridor, past the last security checkpoint, and toward the baggage claim area. I don’t typically check bags, but with the new charges that all the airlines...

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