Fixed Penalty A Tale of Four Parts Part Two and
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The Unspoken Arrangement, Ch 7: The Penalty For Lying free porn video
CHAPTER 7
The Penalty for Lying
Cecilia is caught lying to her Mistress
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The next morning, as instructed by Mistress Tate, Cecilia didn't put on
a maid's dress. "I can't decide whether you should wear your pretty
English Maid uniform, or your new, practical housekeeping outfit," she
had explained. "I thought you might dress in the new uniform for your
regular cleaning, and save the other one for more formal duties.
Tomorrow, just dress to your underwear and corset for your walking
lessons, and we'll see how it goes. Anyway I want to see how feminine
you've become." Cecilia shaved her legs carefully that night, and in
the morning, after applying her lotion, she appeared for training in her
panties, bra, stockings, and corset, feeling rather exposed.
As Mistress Tate was locking Cecilia's elbows into the posture bar, she
said, "Cecilia, you looked so vulnerable yesterday, going up those steps
with that lovely derriere. I do worry about you being alone all day.
Who knows what could happen when I'm not there. Do you think I'm right
to worry, Cecilia?"
"Yes, Mistress Tate," he responded uncertainly, unsure what she meant,
but not wanting to cause trouble.
"Well, I've solved the problem," she went on, fitting his neck collar.
"Yesterday I had a security system installed." He looked uneasy. She
attached the collar to the vertical bar. "There are cameras everywhere.
If I'm worried about you, I can look in any time to make sure everything
is all right. And that's a good thing -- isn't it, Cecilia?"
"Yes, Mistress," he demurred.
"Incidentally, did you know Heather's place also has security cameras?"
An expression of alarm crossed his face, causing her to smile wickedly.
"She can monitor all the rooms at once, and she can record a whole day.
It's really quite something to see. She sent me a little video this
morning. It's you doing her laundry." She clicked the final lock on his
posture bar. Cecilia stared at the floor nervously, acutely aware of
his helpless condition. Mistress Tate lowered his bra straps to his
elbows, letting his breast forms fall neglected to the floor, and began
flicking the nipples of his awkwardly out-thrust breasts with her
fingernails. "Is there anything you want to tell me, Cecilia?"
He felt he had no choice but to confess. "Yes, Mistress Tate."
"Well, what is it, Cecilia? Come on, out with it." She continued
flicking.
He braced himself. "Mistress Tate, when I was in Ms. Anderson's laundry
room, I. . . I masturbated without permission." His ears were burning.
"I'm sorry, Mistress Tate," he added sincerely.
"You masturbated without permission," she repeated quietly as she
flicked his nipples. "Is that all? You didn't do anything else?"
"Um. . . I tried on some of Ms. Anderson's panties, Mistress Tate."
"Some of them? Do you remember how many?" Flick, flick.
He frowned, replaying in his mind how he had frolicked in them. "Seven
or eight pairs, Mistress Tate."
"Seven or eight? Which is it? Think carefully now, Cecilia."
"I don't remember exactly, Mistress Tate. There were so many."
"Heather and I counted nine, Cecilia." At the word "nine," she gave
one nipple an exceptionally fierce flick "You wore nine of my best
friend's dirty panties."
"Yes, Mistress Tate," he said in distress. He couldn't remember that
many, but he thought it wisest to agree. "Sorry, Mistress Tate."
"And you did this without Ms.Anderson's knowledge or permission?"
Flick, flick.
"Yes, Mistress Tate. I'm so sorry, Mistress Tate."
"I don't want your apologies, " she informed him. "Just the truth. Is
that all you have to tell me? Nothing else?"
He began thinking back, but before he could answer, she asked,
"Anything about where you wore Ms. Anderson's panties?"
He blushed. "I -- I wore a pair on my -- on my head, Mistress Tate."
"Yes, you did." She flicked idly. "While you were masturbating, is that
correct?"
"Yes, Mistress Tate. While I was masturbating," he confessed with
increasing discomfort.
"You were sniffing my friend's panties on your head, while you jerked
off without my permission." Flick, flick.
"Yes,Mistress Tate," he whispered.
"Did they smell good?" A sharp flick.
He gulped. "Yes, Mistress Tate," he admitted, adding hopelessly, "I am
so, so sorry, Mistress Tate."
"So you keep saying. And when were you going to mention this to me?"
She flicked impatiently.
"I should have said something, Mistress Tate."
"You weren't going to mention it, were you? You were going to lie to
your Mistress and pretend you'd never done it. Isn't that right,
Cecilia?" Flick.
He looked terrified. "Well?" she demanded.
"Yes, Mistress Tate," he murmured.
"Do you know what the punishment is for lying?"
"No, Mistress Tate," he said nervously.
She took his nipples between her fingers and wrenched them so hard he
gasped. "Well, you're going to find out." She press her thumbs down.
Lying, and masturbating, and disobeying the Mistress. Is that any way
for a maid to behave?"
"No, Mistress Tate!"
"And sniffing panties," she said, releasing his nipples with a violent
shove. My best friend's panties! That's quite an infidelity. How
would you like it if you saw me sniffing your best friend's jockstrap?"
He looked frightened, but also excited. She made a mental note of it.
"Luckily for you, Heather is very understanding and has decided to give
you another chance. To make it up to her, you will serve at a party she
is giving for some friends. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mistress Tate."
"Unlike Heather, I am less kindly disposed. You leave me no choice but
to punish your disgraceful behaviour. How else will you learn to be a
good maid?" She took a moment to attach clothespins to his now-sensitive
nipples. He sucked in his breath. "Now come with me," she said, yanking
his leash hard. Pulled suddenly forward, he lost his balance and fell
to his knees.
"Clumsy girl!" she shouted. "Get up NOW!", and she whipped him with her
cane, knocking him off-balance again. He fell back to a kneeling
position, and then began struggling to get up again, his elbows pinned
behind his back.
"GET UP!" she repeated angrily, as with a couple of well-placed lashes
she forced him to his knees again. Once more he tried to get up, and
once more she struck him so that he toppled back over. Now they were
playing a little game, and he was losing. After a few more unsuccessful
attempts, he finally stayed on his knees, where she had him trapped.
"Please, Mistress Tate, may I get up?"
He was at her mercy. "How dare you speak without permission!" she
demanded, and swatted him down until he was lying on his belly, the
clothespins twisting his nipples beneath him. Straddling his bound arms,
she reached for his nostrils from behind, pinching them so he couldn't
breathe, and when he opened his mouth reflexively, she shoved in a ball
gag, buckling its harness quickly around his head. As she tightened the
harness, she saw beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead.
"That'll teach you to speak without being spoken to," she said. "Won't
it, Cecilia?"
"Yff, Mftrff Tt," he managed, his voice trembling.
"You may get up now." He struggled to his feet, the clothespins on his
nipples waggling to and fro. She fitted an open leather cage over his
head, fastening it around his neck. As she attached a blindfold with
more buckles, his breathing rate went up. "Come with me." Leading him by
the leash, she guided him slowly out of the bedroom and along the hall,
down the stairs and around through the kitchen, down more stairs to the
utility room. He took careful, deliberate, mincing steps, unsure of
where he was, terrified of falling in his high heels, and yet walking in
a truly feminine way after his long training.
In the basement, she positioned him below a large hook screwed into a
ceiling joist. Attaching a chain to the the D-ring on the top of his
head harness, she stretched the chain upwards to pull him onto his toes
and then slipped the highest link over the hook. He was now suspended
from the ceiling by the top of his head, his eyes blindfolded, his mouth
gagged, his hands and arms pinned by the posture bar, clothespins
sticking out from his chest.
With soft ropes, she began winding coils around his legs and torso,
making sure to leave his panties exposed front and back. "Welcome to
the punishment for lying to Mistress,' she said icily as she tied off
the last knot. "Are you sorry you lied?"
"Yff, Mftrff Tt," he squealed. He looked like a fly in a spider's web,
his hard-on bulging inside his panties.
She caned him fiercely through the rear of the panties. He twitched a
little, unable to move. "You WILL be sorry you lied to me. We'll see to
that," she said as she pulled the panties down, exposing his tender ass,
while at the front his erect cock flopped out. His breathing was
frantic. With her open hand, she delivered a vicious, powerful slap to
his hard-on, laughing aloud at his muffled squeak of shock. "What's the
matter, Cecilia? Are you crying because you're sorry you lied to me?"
"Yf, Mftrff Tt!" whined Cecilia, helpless even to flinch. Meanwhile his
hard-on started to recover.
"And what about your disobedience? Are you sorry for masturbating
without permission?" She caned his behind sharply.
"Yf, Mftrff Tt!"
"Mm-hmm. Well, we're going to do something about that," she said. He
sensed her dropping to her knees in front of him. For one wild moment he
wondered if she was going to give him a blowjob. Instead, she slapped
his hard-on violently here and there until it withered, and then began
fitting something on his sex. "This should keep you out of trouble in
future," she laughed as she clicked a lock. There was a ring behind his
balls and his penis had been stuffed into a short plastic tube, where it
couldn't feel any sensation. His loins strained to get hard, but
nothing happened. It was almost as if his cock had been cut off. In
back of his ball sac, the ring formed the sensation of a vulva against
his featureless crotch. Suddenly he felt more feminine than ever. The
clothespins made him keenly aware of his breasts.
Mistress Tate stood up and stalked slowly around him, her high heels
clicking relentlessly. "Now tell me," she said, striking a blow to his
ass, "just how sorry you are for lying to Mistress."
He began to apologize through the gag. She caned him immediately.
"Louder!"
He began to cry. "Oh, you poor little flower," she sneered. "How did
you end up like this, hmm? You must be wondering. Look at you. You've
become my personal plaything, Cecilia. Isn't that right?" She slashed
his behind again. "Yff, Mftrff" he croaked. "Now apologize!" she
demanded. He began mumbling loudly through the gag, but she just
thrashed him again. "LOUDER!" His muffled shouts became more and more
desperate, as she continued her merciless punishment, punctuating her
anger and contempt with the strokes of her cane, until his ass was raw
and he was reduced to tears, his muffled whines exposing his
desperation. Finally, through his sobs, he began begging her to stop.
She drank in this exquisite sound of utter abasement, striking his
behind a few times to hear more; but finally she grew tired of
prolonging his humiliation, and she stopped punishing him and removed
the gag. "Don't say a word," she warned him. "You can stand here and
think about your lying behaviour, little missy. And when I come back, I
want you to tell me what you've learned, and I expect proper thanks for
correcting you. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Mistress Tate," he whimpered, trembling.
"Think about what you're going to say, and it better be good, or we'll
pick up where we left off. Understand?"
"Yes, Mistress Tate," he said in a shaking voice. She left her husband
dangling helpessly in the utility room, trussed up in ropes, trapped in
ladies' underwear, his ass on fire from the caning she had just
delivered, his nipples lightly tortured by clothespins, his cock in
chastity. As she ascended the stairs, she looked back at him over her
shoulder with a mocking smile. He moved his eyes to meet hers, but then
quickly dropped his gaze. She was sure that when she returned, she
would find a very obedient maid, scrupulously honest, and ready to thank
her Mistress effusively for educating her.
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