Best Wishes – Peace To All

Seasons Greetings


Peace and Good Will To All

Here at Silent Quivers we wish all our readers and followers the most wonderful Christmas, end of year break, and New Year.

For us, the spirit of Christmas is peace, kindness and a time to bond with those around us.

We wish that for everyone.

What Will 2020 Bring?

Welcome 2020

Peace and happiness are mandatory. Same for health. I take responsibility for that and now more than ever it has become important.

But what about life itself?

Re-read this. I was cleaning out my bookshelf and there it was – a book of condensed inspiration. Skimming it I found the pencil underlined sections and I know I got so much from it. Time to top-up.

It took one minute to discover this. It rings true. “Seek first to understand, then to be understood. Stephen R Covey.

I am going to learn something new. Self honesty tells me that I’ve not really learned anything new for the last few years. I know when I really try, I can do most things. The problem is motivation – so that is what I’m going to work on. I’m going to pick something new that interests me then kick into it. Learn it. It will be something that dove-tails with my other hobbies so it all works together.

One of my other hobbies is photography. It is something I’ve always enjoyed but never really pursued properly. Composition, lighting, technical aspects are all intriguing and calling out to me. It is time I made a significant investment in equipment, time and effort. I feel I want to capture more and better of the world around me. At this time in my life with my children finding partners, documenting the journey feels more important than ever before.

Something I struggle with. Write a journal. With the changes in my life from self honesty, embracing that which I truly am, and getting older – I feel the need to document my life. Part of it is that I’ve never felt happier. I’d like to capture that. I’m cognizant that my hourglass hasn’t got that much sand left in it, I’d just like to make the most of it and document it.

Those are my goals.

What are yours?

Tears Before Christmas

Tears Before Christmas


It was a low point in my life when depression struck so hard that I thought there was no escape.

How could I possibly escape something as soul destroying as the deep dark feelings of inadequacy, loneliness, sadness, anxiety – all mixed into one?

I vividly remember feeling like I was being sucked into a dark tunnel, my body gripped by a force like gravity.

If this is what you are experiencing, then the most important thing to know is that help is available. The most important thing to do is to do something about it. Letting it lay festering, trying to ignore it will not work.

So many other people have got through it, you can too.

Depression Is a Bastard Of a Thing

Depression sits inside like a cancer. Winston Churchill referred to his depression as a ‘Black dog’ and that is apt as well.

The worst thing about it is that it warps your perceptions, changes the way you think.

You think it is inescapable, but that’s wrong. It can be beaten.

Why Is It Worse At Christmas?

For me it was because other people were happy, so why wasn’t I? How could this be a happy time when I felt so bad?

How could I feel so bad at Christmas, a happy time?

That made me feel guilty. I wasn’t fun to be around, I was visibly suffering. Guilt is the best friend of depression, it feeds it and strengthens it.

The guilt and the sadness made the depression feel worse and so it all fed into a vicious cycle.

Break the cycle. That is what I did.

Get Help Now - It is all around you

There are plenty of places you can get help from. They range from free counseling through to specialist staffed private-stay facilities designed to get you through it.

A really good place to start is your doctor. It was for me.

Whichever way is for you, do something.

Just Google “depression help” and you ill be shown many options in your country.

There are different levels and types of depression.

Mine starts with feelings of anxiety that morph over time into full on black-dog depression. The only good thing about this is that I now know when I am about to suffer a bout of depression. I get in early, I see my doctor, I go to some talk therapy and if necessary, go back onto my meds.

I found it takes courage to admit to depression. That was my essential first step to getting out of it, to getting cured or at least getting respite for a time.

Trust me – you can get past depression.

Finding Happiness


One day you will be able to relax, kick back and enjoy life again.

The Things That Work For Me

My doctor was fantastic. I tried 3 different meds  then found one that suited me. He made me persevere. He got me to see a psych.

Persevere. At a time when I felt so low, this was difficult. Yet it is absolutely vital. I tried and tried with the meds. Eventually I found one that suited me. My doctor was central to this. He was right.

Recognize That Something Had To Change. To become depressed, to feel so low, for me it was they way I was living but also my inner thoughts based on my upbringing. This, these thoughts, they had to change. I had to change.

Counseling with a good psych probably saved my life. I got life changing advice. Some simple sentences from someone with experience changed my perspective. What had been problems I realized were nothing more than my misconceptions and upbringing.

Self soothe. This is actually a great concept, except it just didn’t work for me in this format. Being easy on myself, giving myself ‘slack’, letting myself have time off – are all great concepts. It is just not solid enough when I’m feeling so low. I put it here to highlight the problem. The words are just too imprecise, woolly. In depression I need something simple and yet strong, concrete and obvious. My next point is self-soothing – but defined differently.

Do Things For ME to make ME happy. This was not natural for me. I was/am a ‘giver’ – I do things for others quite a lot. Stopping that, looking inward to find what makes ME happy then doing it took some effort. It still does but you know, it is a nice feeling sometimes to self-indulge and make myself happy.

There is a golden rule here.  My happiness is in my hands. No one else can do it. It is up to me. I must take responsibility for my happiness.

Undertake small jobs giving a quick reward. This is so important for me. Tidying the house is a HUGE gob and takes days so I can never do it. But tidying one room, washing the walls, getting marks out of the floor boards, polishing the brass takes a few hours and makes me feel good. I get a quick result.

There is nothing like a quick result to make me feel better, to feel great. Saying “I did that” has a nice ring to it.

Same for outside; pruning some shrubs, sweeping the front path, doing some weeding and then plant a few seedlings only takes an hour or two. The next day there is a lot of pleasure looking at those seedlings and watering them.

This is a hard lesson. Depression make everything feel harder to do. I want to sit and do nothing. It me think jobs take 3 times as long as they do so it saps my will to get anything done. Just cutting back some unruly shrubs and telling myself ‘I can do this‘ really does help.

Smile even if I don’t feel like it. This is really hard to do, and probably only works when coming out of depression. The thing is, when I smile I find after a while I actually am happier. I trick myself into feeling better. What was once a mask becomes reality.

My First Self Bondage

Luggage Straps For Self Bondage

Luggage straps are just about unheard of now, and if you do find them, they will be the nylon webbing kind, not leather. Nylon just doesn’t do it for me.

Luggage Straps

Growing up when I did, we didn’t have much money so quality suitcases were not a priority. How do you hold a poor quality suitcase shut? Use a leather strap and cinch it up tight. After the second world war, this was probably the norm and lasted certainly into my teenage years and later. I remember the suitcases we had were made of a very cheap type of thick cardboard or similar. The locks were cheap rubbish.

In the hall closet we had 4 straps. They were about five feet long and maybe an inch wide. The leather was of average quality and somewhat rough. They were not ‘dressy’ in the least. In hindsight, they were perfect.

For some reason when I was an early teenager, about 14 years old, one afternoon I took those four luggage straps into my bedroom and tied myself up with them.

I wrapped one strap around the ankles, another round the knees, and the third I buckled into a multi-turn loop then put my wrists through the loop. Using my teeth I cinched up the strap and now my wrists were bound in front of me.

In those days I was much more supple than I am now. Leaning forward I could get my bound ankles through my arms and now my wrists were bound behind me. Tightly. No matter what I did, I couldn’t free myself. That is until I was able to get my legs back through my arms and my wrists were in front of me again, and then use my teeth to loosen the strap.

With my hands behind me and laying on my front with my legs bound, my weight was on my front and hips. Squirming around, feeling the bondage, drifting in the escape and feelings of this I had my first climax when the friction on the front of my pants sent me over the edge.

I still remember this now, five decades later.

Self Bondage

Straps or cuffs wrapping the wrists.

Leather wrapping the circumference of the wrists, the ankles, the knees all feels so very good. It triggers the imagination releasing an endorphin rush.

Add a collar, a gag, add more and more straps around the chest and waist finishes it off nicely.

Why Did I do This?

That is the real question. To this day I have no idea why I did it. It just happened. I liked it, I had my first climax and I was addicted.

I do remember surprise as being a major factor of my first self bondage.

I have wondered about this a lot. Why did I choose those luggage straps? Why did I tie myself up with them? I am absolutely sure I had never seen anything even remotely like this in my life previously. I didn’t see it and say, ‘well, I’d like to try that on a rainy afternoon,’ or similar. The only conclusion is – it just is a part of me.

I do know that I liked leather far too much. It had a fascination, an appeal, it was something that did give me the silent quivers deep down inside. Touching those straps felt enormously good. I felt excited when I touched them, carried them, when I had anything to do with them. From my fascination with these straps, my belt fetish was completely logical.

This was clearly the time when my leather fetish was starting to kick in, and it has never let up since, over half a century later. Maybe the leather fetish, the desire to hold, to touch, to caress those straps was at the heart of it. With them on my bed, what else could I do with them? They were meant for tying up suitcases, why not tie up me?

Over the years that followed, a huge worry was being discovered, caught out, exposed when I was in bondage. I was terrified of that. It was so strong that I denied myself this release for long periods of time. Some of the porn on the internet deals with self bondage discovery which I find exciting.

Denial did not work well at all. If anything, that was even worse for me – and that is the basis for much of this website – and the subject for another post.

The Wrong House

A New Mistress At A New Dungeon

Well, the mistress I was seeing was no longer available. This has happened quite a bit for many reasons and is the subject of another blog post.

On this occasion the mistress I chose was extremely well known and a bit of a legend in the BDSM community. She was a mature lady in her late 50’s or even 60’s by the looks and I was quite looking forward to the session.

The Wrong House

Well, she gave me an address which my GPS took me to easily enough, but it was a very winding and convoluted area. I was taken to a nice house set back a little in a reasonably new housing estate.

I collected my gear then went to the front door and rang the bell. And waited. And waited some more. And rang again and waited. Then I saw it on the wall, a plaque with the address, oops, the address was saying ‘circuit’ as opposed to ‘road’. You would never believe it, in the same estate there was a ‘road’ and a ‘circuit’ address. Different and for me, vastly different. I got out of there quick smart.

A frantic adjustment to the GPS took me to the correct address. This time when I knocked the inside door opened, leaving the security mesh screen making seeing anyone inside difficult. A voice said, ‘Yes, are you my appointment?‘ (or similar, it was 10 years ago now). I mumbled out something, probably used her name then she appeared from behind the door and opened the security door for me.

The reason for the secrecy was that her narrow house had neighbors either side and she was dressed in full on leather fetish. And looked damn good also. I seem to remember one neighbor was washing a boat in the driveway (the things I remember!).

The Sessions?

I remember I had 3 sessions with her. All were heavy corporal and bondage. She was pretty good but we just sort of faded away, drifted apart. I think her spare bedroom kitted out as a dungeon just was not as good as what I’d been used to.

She was good though. A very nice lady and you’d never guess that she’d been a dominatrix for many decades and worked internationally.

Some Anecdotes.

I remember in one session she was really getting into giving me a strapping when a breast fell out of her bra. She didn’t notice it for a while, she just powered on with the strap. She was a well endowed lady and the spectacle of her breast moving as she used the belt was rather special.

In our sessions she really admired the off billet strap of mine. It really is special and I’ve not seen its like anywhere since I stumbled upon it at a horse and tack store. I commented recently to the mistress I’ve had 3 sessions with that it is the prince of straps and it feels similar to the Canadian Prison Strap when used hard. As she does. Anyway, my friendly leather worker lady made me one for her, and even embossed her name on it. She tried it out on me and it worked rather well. I remember that very well.

The last thing I remember was her commenting that she often saw university students before an exam. She’d give them a sound caning then send them on their way with sore striped bottoms and focused minds. It seemed it was a bit of a thing to get a caning from her before an exam. Strange but true.

Website Updates

Website Changes

I really liked the previous static image on the home page. It seems I was pretty much alone in this.

To me the image suggested a slight dissociation from life, looking down on other people and maybe feeling a bit on the outer. Maybe wishing it was me that was experiencing on the beach with a significant other. That was my feeling anyway.

We’ve added a few other images which I also like. In particular the one with the mask kind of appeals. Again, that summons up the thought of watching the BDSM scene yet also remaining incognito. Again, that was me for many years.

The wide open blue-eye’d image suggests surprise and looking at something that is not just ordinary. It is producing that ‘silent quiver’ I harp on about.

I hope you enjoy.


Harry And The Strapubus

The Strapubus and Harry

Copyright (C) 2019 by Trikki Watson. The Strapubus is a new series based around bondage and corporal punishment in a prison for recidivist offenders. This is the first chapter.

Somehow Harry has managed to get caught every single time he’s done a break and enter or indulged in a little creative asset rearrangement as he thinks of it.

This time however, it is not Juvie he gets, it’s off to Rat Creek Reformatory. Surely it can’t be too bad?

For when only the best will do.

Prison Strap

A guaranteed Attitude Improver

Off To The Reformatory

Being in prison awaiting trial, the trial, and then the expected guilty verdict hadn’t surprised him at all.Harry had been here many times before. The only difference was that he was over twenty one now. An adult.

Neither did the trip to the facility he’d been sentenced to surprise him, but this trip felt longer than usual and interminable. Eventually the truck stopped when he heard something happening outside, then moved a little more, then stopped, then started and drove a short way. Finally it stopped with a slight bump then the engine turned off. With a feeling of slight dread he thought ‘home sweet home for the next six months.’

He heard the other prisoners being taken out of the van and finally it was his turn, he was led out by an unsmiling guard. He was in chains and as per usual sp he had to shuffle out of the van and onto the platform then stand in line. He knew the drill from all the other times he’d been inside. He assume he’d be processed, stripped and searched, showered, given clothes and read into the rules then put into a cell for the night. First night was always the worst, new smells, new sounds, and new prisoners all to get used to. Now in an adult prison he was in no doubt he would be at the bottom of the pecking order and that had its own special perils.

This time it was vastly different.

It started with the officers. To a person they were women and none of them were ugly and that was to say the least. They were all dressed in black trousers with equipment hanging off their wide belts, button up white shirts with a tie and a cap on their heads. He was standing ogling the women, as were the others as they waited.

Then it got more surreal. One by one each of them was turned around. The cuffs were taken off then a leather strap was wrapped around the wrists to bring them into the middle of their backs. The strap was connected to a steel bar that ended in another strap that went round the neck of the prisoner. The length of the bar meant it sat behind the neck and so the strap could be done up firmly. Each of them tried to move their wrists and they all found they had almost no movement possible. They could move them away from their bodies just a little but not up or down.

After that the leg irons were taken off and the prisoner was turned around again. This was different. He was used to being handcuffed. The strap around the wrists and being linked to the collar was having an effect on him though. It was slightly disturbing in a way that simple handcuffs weren’t.

This was a surreal moment as he looked around. Suddenly there were six of them standing there looking at the guards and not knowing what was happening. He whispered to the man next to him, “What’s happening? I’ve never had this before.”

The man was his own age, maybe a little older. He’d thought he was a smug bugger, maybe an old hand at this. With a bare glance of disdain, he just shrugged then ignored him. Rude, thought Harry. Then again, he might have friends inside, best not to upset absolutely anyone.

NO TALKING,” shouted one of the guards. She moved in front of him and now was face to face with him. “SILENCE,” she said again and something in her face made him keep the smart ass retort he had in mind to himself.

With that silence, the six of them looked at the three guards. At least they could walk, he thought, he’d never liked leg irons much.

The silence lingered, but eventually the door from the reception area banged open to a tall impressive guard, at least six feet tall and strongly built. She moved with a grace and power that made him immediately concerned, she looked like a fighter. But that wasn’t the thing his eyes lingered on, or the prominent bulge in her shirt from her large bust, or her attractive face.

No. It was what was in her hand as she stood looking at them and running it through her hands. It was the largest leather strap he’d ever seen. It had to be over three feet long. Two thirds of its length was a formidable piece of leather with two rows of a half dozen holes he thought he could get his pinkie finger through. The handle was a foot long and made of multiple layers of leather sandwiched together. There could only be one reason and one use for a thing like that and he had a horrible feeling he knew what it was.

My name is Ms Saunders,” the new woman said as she looked at them in turn. “And this,” she said as she lifted the strap into the air and pointed it at each of them in turn, “this is Mister Best Behavior.” She ran the strap through her hand and none of them failed to notice it was hardly bending as she pointed it at them. The business end looked like being a quarter of an inch thick and maybe three inches across.

She smiled as she caressed the leather. “Now we are a correctional reformatory for recidivist offenders under thirty who have a chance at rehabilitation. For your stay here you will be expected to be on best behavior else you will become intimately familiar with my friend.” She flicked the strap in the air.

Not only that, we have a zero tolerance policy. That is zero tolerance for every single thing. For any reason you can be sent to me for a dose of Mr Best Behavior and then bound as you are or in a hogtie for variation and that can last for hours, days or weeks even. Trust me, you will not enjoy that.”

We have many rules. These will be explained to you in printed sheets in your cell. I strongly advise you to read them carefully.”

She looked at them and took her time, their eyes on the strap as she fondled it. “The next step in your induction process is your official welcome where you get to sample our hospitality.” She was positively grinning as she said that. Then she continued. “This is delivered by me of course, and my special friend here.” She flicked the strap up into the air again for emphasis, the meaning clear. They were getting strapped. Harry’s ass went cold at that thought, but his heart started to race and he felt the color going up to his face.

What? YOU CAN’T DO THAT” said the man beside him looking indignant. He’d thought the guy was a bit full of himself, not talking to him before. He clearly had some social justice thoughts happening. Truth be told, he had his own thoughts but again something made him keep quiet. Luckily. Also no one else said anything either so their trouble-radar must have been triggered also.

Ms Saunders nodded to a guard. The guard went to a desk then from a box pulled out something he thought he’d seen before on the internet. The guard went straight to the man beside him, “Open up,” she said as she lifted it to his mouth. He took one look and refused, shook his head and made it difficult for the guard as he struggled.

A second guard joined in then it was only a matter of time. One guard held his shoulders, the other pinched his nose making him open his mouth in surprise. That was enough, the ball gag was shoved into his mouth then seconds later the strap was behind his head and buckled.

Ms Saunders walked up to him, she tapped his chest with the strap, “Now here is your first lesson. Any sign of rudeness, any shout against any guard, any hint of insubordination is punished. Any resistance, any refusal to obey an order from anyone here results in punishment. You,” she said as she tapped his chest again, “your welcome will now be twelve strokes. If you resist it will be doubled again and trust me, two dozen of my friend here will be something you won’t forget.” She smiled at them all, “And guess who will be going first.”

Two guards grabbed his arms then the pulled him toward an open door but he wasn’t keen on the idea. “Follow,” said Ms Saunders to the others. Then she added as she walked up to the gagged prisoner, “If you resist we’ll just make it two dozen right now.” That had an effect, the gagged prisoner stopped his efforts to resist, instantly.

The remaining five of them looked at each other for a moment, then as one they decided resistance was futile. This was not looking good.

The room they entered was austere. It had multiple doors in the walls but no windows. In the rear of the room was a wooden structure with a flat leather top. Hanging off it were a collection of wide leather straps, waiting for a victim to be strapped down. It was clearly a punishment horse, a whipping horse, and they all knew who was going to be riding it.

Ms Saunders addressed the gagged prisoner, “Go to the whipping horse, put your feet against the legs then follow instructions. Quickly now.” She looked at all of them in turn, “And if you resist your punishment will double. Your choice. I’m happy either way, but going to two dozen would make me happier.” She grinned as she flicked the strap up and down.

The gagged man looked wildly around, assessing his options, looked at the strap and the woman holding it but there were no options that looked any better. With a clear lack of enthusiasm he walked forward then did as told.

Two guards wrapped straps around his ankles then buckled them. One pushed him in the back with a command, “Bend,” which he did, not that he had much choice. A strap was buckled over the small of his back and in seconds he was presented. Almost. A guard gripped the top of his tracksuit pants and in one pull, had it around his knees. The other guard did the same to his underpants. With that a bright white pair of buttocks was looking out at them all, a shining white target Harry thought.

Ms Saunders walked forward. She stepped to one side and behind him, the strap out at the end of her arm so it went half way across his bottom, the end finishing at the butt crack.

Not a word was spoken. No one was looking anywhere else. The inevitability of the punishment was riveting all their eyes to the tableau. That and the inevitable strapping of themselves, each prisoner thought. At a time like this, self preservation and the state  of their butts was foremost in their thoughts.

With deceptive slowness and grace the strap was pulled back and behind Ms Saunders. She looked like a strong and powerful woman, and then it was proven. The strap paused at the end of her arm, held far out from her body, her body coiled up like a spring, her legs bent, her body tense. Then in a blur she unwound and the strap whooshed forward with a high pitched swish that ended in a gunshot loud crack as it lashed across the bared bottom.

The effect on the bound man was instant and frantic. It made him tense his whole body, to try to lift off the horse, to shake and quiver all over and thrash against the straps holding him fast. The gag prevented the cry he wanted to make, probably a scream, so that all that came out was an indistinct gurgle.

The effect on his bottom was pronounced though. There was now a three inch wide band of red across the middle of his butt, going from one side to the other.

Al the other prisoners were watching it with rapt attention and not a little fear. This would be them soon. Harry looked at the other guards and noticed something disturbing. They were all smiling, all of them looking a little excited at the spectacle.

Gentlemen,” Ms Saunders said into the near silence, the only sound being the man on the whipping horse moving against the straps and the occasional sound that got past the gag strapped into his mouth. “You see how well Mr Best Behavior works. A perfect stroke like that leaves a perfect band across the butt. At this moment he is trying to ease the pain as he squirms. But nothing helps. It will feel like a red hot poker is sitting on his butt but worst of all, he knows there is plenty more to come and there is  nothing he can do about it.”

They all looked on in horror. Were they all getting this?

Ms Saunders took her time. She put the strap against the still quaking bottom then pulled it back behind her again. Again Ms Saunders worked her body into a powerful and efficient means to deliver that wickedly painful looking strap to the bared bottom.

Again she moved in a blur with the leather streaking around ending in a gunshot crack as the strap painted another band of red just above the first. Again the bound recipient thrashed around against the straps but there was nowhere to go and nothing to be done about it. He was getting a strapping come what may.

Ms Saunders said nothing as she ran the strap through her hands, watching, feeling the leather with a slight smile on her face. She stood looking at the man shaking the horse as he lay strapped down. She let time pass as they all watched the performance of the prisoner on the whipping horse.

Then the third stroke was laid on below the first. Now the whole of his butt was painted bright red. Each stroke had hardly overlapped, the three strokes spread out like that covering and painting the presented bottom a fine red color.

Gentlemen, if he had been quiet and accepted what was to happen, he would now be half way there.” She smiled at them, “When it’s your turn on the horse, remember that. It could have been worse.” That didn’t help any of them.

Ms Saunders then took her time. She measured up, she waited a moment with the strap against his bottom, then she pulled it back and far behind herself. Swiveling around like a spring unwinding the strap cracked again and this time it was in the center of the bottom, on top of the first stroke. That was to be her technique; three strokes to cover the bottom, then the second set of three going over the top.

If the prisoner on the horse had been reacting strongly before, that was nothing compared to how he lurched against the straps holding him in position this time. His body shook the horse, the frame moving visibly as his shrieks of pain swallowed by the gag.

Taking her time, the fifth stroke was laid on above, then the sixth was lashed below that middle stroke. Now the whole of his bottom was bright red and looking angry, each art of it having taken two hugely painful strokes.

Half way there,” said Ms Saunders as she swished the strap through the air just like a cat swishing its tail.

She walked in front of the bound man so he could see her, the strap in her hand swinging from side to side all the time. “Do you want me to stop?” she asked him happily as she bent down to be face to face with him.

His head nodded up and down frantically and something could be heard from around the gag. It sounded like he was begging her, wanting, pleading, promising anything but another six strokes like the last six.

She smiled as she looked him in the eyes, “Well I can’t,” she said as she patted his face, “you’ve got six to come. Now that I’ve warmed up, I think I’ll make these harder. Full strength this time.”

That produced more shaking of the wooden horse and shaking of the head along with muffled pleas for her to stop. But it made no difference, Ms Saunders didn’t care what he said. This was all for show.

Ms Saunders walked back behind the bound man, off to one side just the same as for the last set of six. She extended the strap at the end of her arm till it was covering just the near buttock, just like every other time. It took her very little time to get ready.

Nice and hard this time,” she said quietly as she measured up the strap across the waiting quivering red striped bottom.

The ‘crack’ when it came was far louder and more crisp than before. None of the new prisoners believed it could be any harder, but it was.

Same as before the first was across the middle of the bottom on the already red surface. This stroke being the hardest of them all left its own even deeper red band of sting shining among all the others, the three inch band of pain clearly visible.

It was the third stroke to the center of his butt and it clearly hurt.

The effect on the prisoner was all it should have been. He surged in the straps, the horse moving violently as he shuddered and shook, his body writhing in pain. The gurgles getting past the gag sounded like one long scream.

Ms Saunders didn’t delay this time. The next ‘crack’ sounded only a half dozen seconds later and left a new more red band above the previous, then seconds later another ‘crack’ of strap on bottom laid a band of red perfectly completing the surface. The whole butt for three times the width of the strap was now blazing red.

Ms Saunders had waited after each of the previous sets of three, but this time she did not. She kept right on. This was to be a punishment, and a punishment she would deliver.

The next stroke to the middle, the one above then the one below each lifted the bound prisoner to new heights of frantic movement against the straps on the horse. Now the color was fire engine red and looked as painful as the bound prisoner was making out by his movements. This was not a lesson he’d ever forget. Nor would any of the other prisoners either.

Ms Saunders walked back in front of the prisoner and bent down till she was looking into his eyes again. “That was a dozen. If you are insolent, rude, resist or disobey I’ll have you back again for another dozen.” She stroked his face, getting his full attention. “But that’s not the best of it. I’ll make it two dozen if you annoy me in any way. Just imagine that, you get twice as many strokes. The best part is we won’t be in any hurry then. I can leave you strapped down for five minutes between each dozen and get one of the officers to massage your butt so you can feel the second set properly. Would you like that? Hmm?” she asked.

The prisoner shook his head frantically, clearly not wanting any more.

Good, you get the idea,” she said, “when we let you up, behave. I promise I can give you another dozen, or two dozen, straight way if you annoy me or any of the guards in any way.”

All the other prisoners listened carefully to that. None of them wanted a dozen and two dozen was a bridge none of them wanted to cross. This Ms Saunders liked her strap far too much.

Ms Saunders stood then nodded to one of the officers. The bound prisoner was unstrapped then he was helped up. Clearly the strapping had left him exhausted the way he slumped between them.

It was a strange sight, the tracksuit had now fallen down around his ankles so his privates were on display and when he was turned around, the bright red bottom along with his bound hands in the middle of his back leading up to the collar completed the image.

Who’s next? Any volunteers?” asked Ms Saunders happily as she ran the strap through her hands. “You all get a welcoming six of the best so you might as well get used to the idea.”

Harry saw the man beside him step forward, slowly, looking totally nervous. With shaking steps he approached the wooden horse and waited as his ankles were strapped to the legs of the horse. When that was done he didn’t wait, he bent at the waist then the broad strap was run over his back and bound him to the horse.

Excellent,” said Ms Saunders. “I do like a willing victim for my friend here,” as his tracksuit and briefs were pulled down.

This time the strapping was quick. The six strokes were laid on firmly but not quite at the same intensity as the last six for the previous prisoner. Even then, these strokes still had a huge effect. The prisoner shook, he waggled his hips and his bottom between strokes. Since he wasn’t gagged, he also shouted out loudly with each stroke, his “yaaggghhh” coming at the instant of the crisp crack of the strap on his bottom. As the strokes progressed, his shouts got louder and more strident.

It only took a minute for his welcoming strapping, a minute of loud shouts and gunshot cracks of prison strap on inmate bottom.

Good,” said Ms Saunders, “no swearing. If you swear I double up. Oh. I forgot to mention that. No matter.”

The prisoner was now standing with his tracksuit around his ankles, beside the other prisoner, their privates on display.

Next,” said Ms Saunders. Another prisoner stepped forward and quickly he was strapped down, his bottom exposed then six strokes of the strap laid on. The recipe was quickly followed and now there were three men side by side, each with glowing red bottoms and their privates on display.

There were only three of them remaining now, three unstrapped prisoners and none of them wanted to go next.

Quickly,” said Ms Saunders. “Either one of you steps forward right now or I call this insubordination and double up for a dozen each. I do like giving a good solid dozen.”

The man beside Harry stepped forward and was duly strapped down, bared then Ms Saunders gave him his six. the inevitability of it all was getting to Harry.

Soon it would be his turn.

Harry's Prison Strapping

And now it was Harry and one other who remained. He looked at the other man.

He looked at Ms Saunders holding her strap looking at them. He really didn’t want a dozen like he’d seen. That was too damned much.

He felt his throat close over slightly then he stepped forward. He was almost vomiting in stress, his body shaking, his heart hammering in his chest. He walked on shaky legs to the wooden horse then put his legs where the other men had.

The feeling of the straps around his ankles was remarkably comforting, he didn’t mind that at all. It felt strangely almost erotic with the leather circling his bare leg, pulled tight to the frame. With this hands strapped firmly in the middle of his back and connected to the collar it was an odd feeling.

Unlike the other prisoners he wasn’t pushed down and strapped to the horse before his pants and briefs were pulled down. The guard noticed something he was desperate to not be seen.

The thoughts of covering up his excitement were cut short when his tracksuit then briefs were pulled down exposing him to the cool air. Then he heard it, the guard was sniggering, “Ms Saunders, I think this one is looking forward to it.”

To his shame he knew exactly what she was looking at. He had an erection, and standing like he was, it was plain for all to see. Dammit all to hell, it was embarrassing and it only got worse when Ms Saunders walked over then had a look.

Not bad,” she said, “we get a few in here who don’t mind a touch of the leather. Seems to set them off nicely.” To make matters worse she rubbed her strap on his bottom, the touch of the leather cold against this butt but again oddly erotic. It only served to make his cock harder. “Lay down and I’ll do my best to make it memorable.”

He bent at the waist then the strap was pulled over his back and buckled, pulling him down to the leather top of the horse, his face full of the leather and its strong scent.

He hadn’t realized it before, but the stap over his back pulled the steel rod between his collar and wrists down against his body. Previously he could move his hands just a little up and down, now they were trapped and held tight. Movement was impossible.

He looked forward along the top of the whipping horse, his chin sitting on the leather covered top. Then he saw it and noticed it for the first time. There was a mirror in front of him. That really didn’t help at all.

He watched as Ms Saunders walked behind and to one side of him. He saw her extend her arm with the strap in it then he felt it touch his bottom. It tapped one cheek, the near cheek to Ms Saunders. The sight of her with the strap in her hand didn’t make him go down at all, worse, it seemed to make him harder and more excited if anything.

Then it happened. Ms Saunders put the strap far behind herself and with bent legs she wound up. He felt his butt tingling in anticipation, his legs shaking slightly.

He could hardly watch, it was deeply terrifying, then he felt the instant sting and the gunshot crack both at the same time. Unlike the other prisoners, he didn’t scream or shout out loud. He gave a gasp, the pain was certainly extraordinary, but it wasn’t that bad. The sting morphed into red hot heat over a few seconds, then it penetrated deeper and deeper into him making him gasp and pant. He rotated his hips, he tried to put his hands down to massage his bum cheeks but he couldn’t move them at all. He tried to lift up but he was strapped down tight.

Then he felt it. The strap was on his bottom again. Then the tap. Then seconds later the crack brought a renewed deep sting and again the heat built and built. Unlike last time he didn’t even gasp, he just moaned, he sighed, then he panted again as he felt the sting morph into something else, something new.

As he lay strapped down, trying to move against the straps, feeling the sting increase and the fire in his rear building and building, he felt something strange morph into him. He moaned again as he felt it deep inside him. He felt as if what he was experiencing was necessary, was what he needed. He moaned again, louder. This was strange.

Then the crack and the sting surprised him. He’d been so intent on how he was feeling and what he was thinking that time had fled. He hardly gasped, though his whole bottom was now one large red hot band of sting and the heat was getting deep into him.

That was three. He knew that as he moved against the straps and felt himself floating.

He lay strapped down, waiting for the next stroke but it didn’t come. Instead Ms Saunders was now in front of him, bending down, looking into his eyes. She was remarkably attractive was his first thought, and scary was his second.

She lifted the strap she was holding till it was beside his face, “You need this, you know you do,” she said quietly. Her other hand stroked his face gently.

Against his will he looked down and saw the bulge in her blouse, the large breasts heaving in the exertion she’d put in.

Want to make it a dozen? Nice and hard? You can really feel them. I can gag you if you like, it adds to the whole thing to be gagged when you take a strapping that you really want and need.”

He honestly thought about it. It would be something to boast about, voluntarily taking an extra six of that wicked strap from Ms Saunders, but his arse was hurting like hell and dammit all, the heat was doing something strange. He could feel his cock hardening up again. Just having that woman in his face, looking at her and smelling her scent was doing his head in.

I can’t Ms Saunders, it hurts so much, I’ve never had this before.” He almost sobbed at the end.

She stroked his face as she looked into his eyes, “Never mind. We can try again another day. Three to go.” Then the whispered so only he could hear, “Hard or soft? Ask for them hard and you’ll get a special reward.”

He thought about it for a moment. A reward? A special reward? She was extraordinarily sexy in an amazingly scary way. “Hard please Ms,” just came out of his mouth.

Ms Saunders stood then returned to be behind and to one side of him. “I’ll make these extra hard, just what you need,” she said loudly, and then he felt the strap on his butt cheek as she measured up.

The crack when it came made him thrash around in the straps, move his hips from side to side, made him shout out “OHH,” then as the sting morphed into a deep penetrating head, an “AHH ahhh,” that faded gradually into a panting moan.

His hips were shaking from side to side, then he felt the strap on his butt again.

Push back naughty boy,” Ms Saunders said, “push back, invite my strap, ask me for it. Make your butt invite the leather.”

Against his will he shook his hips from side to side then pushing as hard as he could, he did what Ms Saunders told him. He was pushing against the straps as hard as he could, feeling the leather of the restraining straps bite into him, then he felt the Ms Saunder’s strap, felt it withdrawn. Just a few seconds later there was that same loud crack and sting. This time he gasped and shook, the pain and heat merged into one deep feeling that he wanted this. That and the strange feeling deep down that was getting stronger, something inside him was inviting it, needed it.

His hips shook but butt from side to side, then again, against his will he pushed his butt back out to Ms Saunders. He invited the leather.

She took advantage of it. Without tapping his butt, she wound up and gave him the mightiest stroke yet, the hardest of any she’d given and this time it brought a “YAHH,” from his lungs. Over a few seconds, this changed to a deeper “Ooohhh,” as it sank into him.

The sting, the experience, the straps binding him down engulfed him. He was sent, spent, in another space, the flaming heat in his butt sending him into a new place.

He found himself moving against the straps and at that moment he felt it. His cock had been dribbling pre-cum on the leather of the horse and now moving from side to side he found he had a boner that was approaching bursting point. That would be the living end so he lay as still as he could and hoped like hell they unstrapped him and soon. He also prayed his boner went down before then but the way it was feeling, that wasn’t going to happen.

The straps from his ankles were released then the one across his back. Two officers lifted him up but the problem remained. His cock was rock hard and pointing straight up. His eyes went down in horror and there it was also, a wet patch on the leather of the horse.

Ms Saunders walked forward with her strap in her hand swinging happily beside her leg. “Well, well, well,” she said as she smiled, looking at him. “Maybe we should have made it a dozen. The effect was not what it should have been. Never mind, next time.”

She looked down at the wet spot on the horse, then at his face. Then she looked at his cock then she looked into his eyes again and gave him a lightning quick wink and a slight smile.

Shuffling his feet with the tracksuit pants and briefs round his ankles he joined the others standing watching the proceedings. He noticed his was the only erection also and that just made his face go beetroot red.

The last man had to be told to ‘present to the horse else it’s a nice hard dozen for insubordination’ from Ms Saunders. Everyone knew she meant it so he walked forward then was reluctantly strapped down and had his butt bared for the strap.

His strapping was a repeat of all the others, maybe a little quicker, but the effect was exactly the same. Ms Saunders measured up then she powered the strap around and across the waiting bottom. The red band appeared instantly, his strident shout of pain filled the room, then it was repeated time and again a few seconds apart. The red band in the middle was joined with one above, then one below. Then a few seconds later the band in the middle was made far deeper by the second stroke on top and his shout confirmed it hurt. Then the bands of red above and below were also painted in and now his butt was fire engine red and Ms Saunders had a happy look on her face, her eyes gleaming.

When the six of them were lined up, all of them with throbbing butts and their privates exposed with their trousers and briefs round their ankles Ms Saunders walked to and fro in front of them, looking at each of them in turn. She ran the strap through her hands continually as she looked at them. She felt the leather and she bent it this way and that. Clearly she enjoyed her work.

So. That is your welcome strapping. If you get a single black mark, a single complaint, a single instance of rudeness or insolence you might as well present yourself to me because you will get another six. Each time you will get another six each and every time.”

She lifted the strap in the air then caught it when it came down. “That is unless I give you a dozen. I prefer a dozen. It works better, you remember better and I can really get to the seat of the problem.”  She smiled as she said that,

She moved in front of the gagged man who’d had a dozen and still looked broken and in pain, his hips not stopped moving slightly the whole time.

She tapped his chest with the strap. “If you resist then it is an automatic dozen and you can see how well the gag works.” She tapped him on the chest again, “Guards, take them to their rooms and settle them in for the night. Prisoners, there is another rule you don’t know yet. The guards will help you with that.”

One by one the guards lifted their briefs and trousers. In his case when the guard bent she was at eye level with his still aching erection. “Ms Saunders, this one still has a problem.” Then when his briefs and trousers were in place, he felt better. Dammit, why was his cock so hard, but he thought the knew. While his ass was throbbing from the strapping, the heat went right through him to the other side and it was making him as randy as hell. As soon as they freed his hands, he was for sure giving himself a hand job.

Ms Saunders was watching him. She only nodded.

Follow,” said a guard who left through a door in the rear of the room. No way were they going to disobey or cause any trouble with their flaming butts reminding them of the penalty.

They trooped along and followed her, through another sliding steel bar door then they were in a long corridor with cells on either side, in the cell block proper. After their welcome and seeing the results of any kind of resistance, none of them was going to do anything to bring attention and the guaranteed strapping that would result.

You five, stand and watch,” said one guard. She opened a cell door then led the gagged prisoner inside. The cell was pretty much the same as all the others he’d been in, a bed, a small toilet area, a desk and a single book on the desk. Probably a diary or the bible Harry thought.

The guard unstrapped the prisoner’s collar then let the steel rod fall down toward his bottom, the strap through the end open and hanging down. “Lay down on your face on the bed,” she said.

The prisoner did as told and shuffled a little till his head was on the pillow and his body in the middle of the bed.

The guard bent, “Legs back, back behind you by your butt,” she said brusquely. The prisoner complied then the guard took the strap that had been around his neck and moving the bar she brought the strap at the end round so she could wrap both his ankles in what had been the collar.

There,” she said. “On a punishment night we hogtie you if you get extra.” The guard took a chain down from the wall and clipped it onto the bar between his wrists and ankles. She shortened it at the other end till he had zero freedom. He was on his face, hogtied and chained in the middle of the bed.

Then she added, “We also hogtie you if we feel like it, for fun, and for our pleasure. Same for the gag.” She looked at them looking at the man on the bed unable to move. “We’ll take you out at seven am. Have a good night,” then they all trooped out of the room.

The next cell was Harry’s he found as the guard took him inside. “You just got a welcoming. You can sleep on your front or back. You choose.”

On my back please ma’am,” he said.

With that the strap around his neck was released as was the one round his wrists. The guard walked in front and again the strap was around his neck, the bar now going from the front of the collar at his neck down to his waist. The guard lifted his wrists and the strap was wrapped around them and tightened. He was again bound tightly, this time with his hands held just above his waist.

A push on his chest sent sent him back to his bed. He sat then lay down. The guard looked down at him, “You just got a welcome. No hogtie but you stay in restraints for the night. Sweet dreams,” and she even added a wink.

When the door closed he lay on his back. This wasn’t the best position he realized. His bright red flaming strapped butt was against the bed and stinging but again and almost worse, his boner as back with a vengeance. No way could he get his hands near it, and he tried. If he moved his hands at all the bar to the collar stopped anything more than an inch or two of movement.

As he lay he thought about the day so far. It had not been his best. The way the other guy had been treated for complaining and resisting was a harsh lesson. Being in a hogtie like that, unable to even roll from side to side and with a ball gag in his mouth was something that he was thinking about more than he should. It just went round in his mind and added to the heat in his butt and his aching cock from the strapping.

Lights out happened a little later and there was dead silence in the prison. He’d been in places where the noise increased up to be almost deafening at lights out. Not here. He guessed that Ms Saunders and her strap would see to that. He wondered how they would find out who was making all the noise? What was the punishment for that. He guessed the gag would be used and probably the hogtie after a strapping. Then he had a worrying thought, would one or two of them making a noise get them ALL a strapping, a gag and hogtie? He had a feeling that Ms Saunders would do exactly that.

He tried to sleep. The trauma of the last few hours went round and round in his mind, but eventually he drifted off.

The Strapubus and the Special Reward

Some time during the night a sound woke him. He looked around in the dim light and then saw he wasn’t alone in the cell, and the smell confirmed it. Perfume.

He heard movement, clothes moving, then a face was beside his in the darkness. “Want your special reward?” and now he knew. It was Ms Saunders. With that thought his boner was starting to wake again.

Ms Saunders, what reward?” he asked and hoping like hell it was what he was thinking Ms Saunders wanted.

The question was answered when he felt her hand on the front of his tracksuit pants. It moved over the fabric and it rubbed his erection shifting it into a rock hard tumescence. “Guess,” she said, “but I get to come first.” With that the erotic stroking stopped and the hand was on the side of his face. “Quickly now,  yes or no else I’ll try next door.”

That was the last thing he wanted. “Yes please Ms Saunders. Oh God yes please.”

With that Ms Saunders stood then seconds later his tracksuit pants were off, as were his briefs and now his erection was pointing straight up. “One small thing,” she said which he took to mean the condom was going on. But she surprised him.

Instead he felt her grab his ankles then something was wrapped round them and buckled tightly. He tried to move his legs but couldn’t as he was tightly bound. Then the same thing happened to his knees. Suddenly he couldn’t move his legs at all. “One more,” she said as she leaned over him, her chest near his face, the clothed breasts looming nicely. “Lift up a little,” she said.

He lifted as best he could which was enough, as she quickly pushed something under him. Then she lifted the ends and he knew what it was. She’d run a belt, a strap, under his body and pulling the ends she buckled it over his chest. Now the steel bar linking his wrists to his collar was strapped down. He tried, but he couldn’t lift his hands at all now. They were pressed against his front, unable to move.

Then she moved back and he heard her stripping off, her form only slightly visible in the near darkness.  But it was enough to see she was absolutely as desirable as he’d thought.

A few seconds later she mounted him but not in the way he expected. She was squatting over his face, her naked pussy right over his mouth. A few hip movements, a few shuffles then she settled down after saying, “Lick me good.”

He lay transfixed. His wrists bound, his ankles and knees bound and this woman squatting on his face was a lot to absorb, the surprise of it was making him feel unable to cope.

Then he felt her moving her hips rubbing her pussy over his mouth and nose, and seconds later she gripped his cock. “Ahh,” he said for a moment then the pussy pushed down silencing him. The warm moist pussy engulfed him, her scent filling his nostrils.

Against his will he opened his mouth. The feeling of her stroking his cock was enough to make him do anything, even this. He extended his tongue and ran it up and down her pussy, running it from side to side to side then up and down again. Ms Saunders moved slightly, angled herself where she wanted then he understood. He opened his mouth as wide as he could then pushed his tongue out and found the tight little spot he knew she wanted worked. He pushed his tongue into her then she gasped. He ran his tongue around and around. He pulled it out then pushed it up and in and rimmed her vagina.

This had an effect. She surged against him, she gasped, she shook all over. It didn’t take long at all till she let out a low moan and shook all over, her hips moving like she was being electrocuted, jumping and surging rhythmically.

She’d come. She quietened her frantic movements then she just moved her hips up and down along his face so he could lick her all over, slowly. Against his will he was now enjoying this. Warm wet woman pussy had never been on his radar for giving oral, but now the effect had him going. It felt infinitely erotic to bring her off, to tongue her secret place and bring her pleasure.

After a few minutes of that she got off his face then lay down beside him. “Not bad,” she said as she wrapped an arm around his chest then put a leg up and over his hips, pushing down on his cock. It felt brilliant to have the warm woman against him, and electric to have that piece of thigh against his rock hard boner. If he could move, just a little, he knew he’d blast off a load all over the both of them.

My girlfriends call me the ‘strapubus’ because I love giving a strapping, and I love having my men bound with leather straps. It’s just so nice to be able to mount them and use them for my own needs. How was it for you? The strapping and this?”

His cock was hurting. Pressed against the soft woman’s leg it felt so damn good but he wanted to be inside her, desperately. “Ms Saunders it hurt like hell but for some reason I got a boner. You saw it. I have no idea why. This is fantastic. I want you.” That was all he could get out of his mouth. He’d never been one to chat up the ladies, and now with her against him it was even more impossible to string two sentences together.

She ran her hand over his face. Then she leaned up a little and moved till her breasts were in his face. She moved her shoulders from side to side so the nipples alternated to tap his mouth and the large woman scented globes moved all over his face. It was the most erotic thing he’d ever had in his life.

Good. I’ll mount you and fuck you senseless but I have a strict rule here in the prison. You get a dozen of my belt. Nice and hard. On top of the strapping it will hurt but it’s not as bad as my prison strap.” She moved her breasts all over his face, taking her time, rubbing herself against him. “Want me?”

He didn’t want a belt strapping but he desperately wanted a fuck. “Yes please Ms Saunders,” just came out of his mouth. Another strapping was not what he wanted but the taste of pussy, the smell of the woman and her private places were all driving him nearly mad with desire.

She got off the bed then went to the pile of the clothes on the floor. He watched as she pulled the wide belt out then folded it in half. She moved back to the bed. “Roll over,” she said, then she added, “I brought a gag. Want that? It adds to the whole experience. I’ll fuck you with it in if you want?”

He thought about it. Watching that other guy get his strapping with the gag in had been arousing in a disturbing way. Now the offer was feeling the same but also attractive. Why not? “Yes please Ms Saunders,” he said before he could regret it. The strapping from the belt would be bad enough. This was heading into full on kink so he might as well embrace it.

Seconds later he felt her pressing something into his mouth. He opened and suddenly it was full of something solid yet rubbery. He ran his tongue around it as much as he could. It took little time to realize it was a ball gag, and in that time she pulled the strap behind his head and it was buckled. He tried to spit it out, he tried pushing on it, he moved his head but nothing made any difference.

He was experimenting with the ball gag, feeling it, when heat blazed on his butt cheeks and a loud crack broke the silence of the darkened cell.

This time the strapping was far more mild than what he’d had from Mister Best Behavior, but it was still challenging. The belt didn’t land anywhere near as hard but the sting was similarly infernal. On top of the prison strapping, it made him rear up, open his mouth around the ball gag and grunt loudly.

Ms Saunders powered six down hard and fast. He was grunting, moving back and forward on the bed, shaking all over as the belt lashed him.

“That’s six,” she said into his ear. “All the other men on the cell block can hear it. Some of them have had it, some want it, and some dread it. How’s it for you?”

He lay as the heat from the belt strapping worked into him. Half way. Dammit, another six to go. But that was not the worst of it. His boner was raging now, pushed into the bed like this and with the friction from his movement he thought he’d come if he wasn’t careful. That was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to be inside that woman, her tits in his face as he blasted his load.

He nodded as best he could then he squirmed slightly. It wasn’t easy, far from that, but he managed to pull his knees down a little and do a half kneel so his hips were off the bed a few inches. At least he wasn’t rubbing against the damn bed now.

“Good,” said Ms Saunders. “Push it out for my belt. My belt loves to kiss bared naughty boys butts.”

And so it did. Ms Saunders powered down another six of the best, clearly delivering them as hard as she could. With the gag in his mouth he couldn’t make any noise so he heard her grunt slightly in the effort she put in. It sounded a little like a tennis player grunting during a serve when they put in all their energy. And so it was with the belt. Each stroke made a super loud crack he heard echo out through his door and into the cell block. None of the other prisoners would not have heard it and he was sure they’d all know.

When it was over he was shaking all over, his hips rolling and quivering from the strapping and he was covered in sweat. She’d nearly damn exhausted him.

Collapsing back down on the bed his boner was at half mast or less. He was getting his breath, regaining his composure as she rolled him over in bed. He looked up at her, at her huge hanging breasts and the small thatch between her legs and slowly his boner returned.

Ms Saunders sat on the bed beside him then she wrapped her hand round his boner. “Time to put you to work,” she said as she wanked him slowly and gently. She moved her hand up and down a few times and now he was rock solid again.

This time when she took her hand off he saw her tear open a condom and quickly it was pulled over him. “Extra thick and ribbed,” she said with a slight laugh. “Too thin and you pop off too quickly and that will never do. Nice and thick will slow you down a little.”

With that she mounted him, quickly. A hand gripped his cock, it was pointed straight up then she straddled and sank down on it, taking his full length in one hard downward thrust.

It was lucky he was gagged. He would have shouted out with the sudden flaring of the welts on his butt from her weight on his hips. Then he would have shouted again from the feeling of being inside her, right up to the hilt, his now hot cock throbbing in the rubber condom, deep inside the woman.

He convulsed. His hands tried hard to reach out and grip her round the waist so he could lift up and fuck her. That or reach up and cup her breasts, that would have been good too. But he couldn’t do either. His hands were strapped together, connected to the bar up to the strap around his neck.

Instead she fucked him and she did it for her pleasure. She rocked from side to side for a moment, chewing on his cock, her vaginal muscled gripping him tightly as she rocked. “Yes,” she said slowly.

Then she leaned forward, her huge breasts up near his face as she lay down and pressed herself down on him, his cock trapped inside her as she leaned down. Then she rubbed herself against him.

He knew what that was, her clit was standing up and she wanted to rub it against him, so he obliged as much as he could. That had an effect, “Ohhh yes,” she said then she lifted up for a moment then fell back down again, rubbing his cock nicely with the fuck even though the thick condom deadened the feeling slightly.

Slowly she fucked him, up then down, up then down, then she leaned forward and rubbed her clit against him for a moment.  Then she rotated her hips to chew on his length. Then she repeated it. Time and again she repeated it. Watching her take her time, building in intensity as her breasts swayed from side to side and with his red hot raging butt, this was the most erotic time of his life.

Neither of them could last long. She gasped a high pitched almost-shriek as she quivered, her whole body convulsing on the end of his cock, her vagina clamping with surprising strength on him as she moved. That sent him over the edge. He pushed against her with all his might, his hips spearing himself up and into her, his cock seeking every bit of friction it could get. As he shook and convulsed against her, the gag in his mouth silenced most of his gasps and what did get past the ball gag sounded distinctly like an animal. And it was. He was so deep into the orgasm all he felt was his cock and the red hot butt flaming making him come harder and harder. Even the straps around his wrists and legs added to the power of the orgasm making his hips push up even harder.

After an eternity he came down from the orgasm, he lay still and looked at the woman on top of his. She was quite still now, her eyes closed and she was holding herself up off his chest with her arms. Her hips were still pushed down on him and his completely spent cock, milked of all his desire was deflating as her vagina gripped it.

Then she lay down on top of him, her face beside his as she relaxed fully. “Oh yes, that was good,” she said as she lay there pressed against him. He thought it was pretty damned good also, almost good enough to take another prison strapping but his ass was still red raw.

Then he wondered if this was going to happen again and only happened after a strapping?

With a momentary flash of jealousy he realized he would not be alone in what happened. He had a feeling Ms Saunders liked using her strap far too much and that got her going, needy. After lights out she needed to finish off so a prisoner with red hot buns was a good choice.

The First Day

The next morning he woke in bed, unable to move his hands and his butt was throbbing. Not only that, his cock was almost rock hard and pointing up like a compass needle. Trying to move his legs he remembered Ms Saunders had strapped them together and the gag in his mouth made him remember everything. That made his cock even harder.

He was debating weather or not he should roll over and rub his hips to orgasm when his door was opened. He looked up to see the guard almost laughing, “No need to ask what you’ve been up to. Was it good?” He saw she was looking at his midsection, his cock tenting his tracksuit pants up.

All he could do was nod.

This was going to be an interesting time in Rat Creek Reformatory with the strapubus.

Letter To Voldemort

Open Letter To Voldemort


I write this to excise you from my life, to free myself from your toxic influence, and to move forward in my life with happiness.

Our calling you Voldemort began as a humourous allusion, and thus it remained for a time. But over time it became clear that a name given in jest was actually remarkably accurate. I also called you satans faecal representative here on earth, and also an excrementer. Those attempts ar humour at your expense however denied the effects of your psychopathy by attempting to shift them onto fictional characters. Your actions however were very real and at a similar level to that malevolent character.

You probably don’t know it, and if you did I doubt you would either care or believe me when I say that you have caused me so much pain, triggered unhappiness and brought me to levels of despair I thought I would never experience. I referred to you as a psychopath which the absence of any kind of remorse or apology from you bears out.

Now, as I write this I see how stupid I have been in allowing this to happen. I am in charge of my destiny, not you.

I was stupid to think that over thirty years of friendship meant anything to you. It couldn’t from the way you behaved. Even after I gave you a second chance, a chance that so few would be given. It was based on your word and assurances and the length of our friendship, yet you betrayed me again. And so quickly. Then you said I had behaved appallingly. Your supreme delusion is that you fail to realize just how badly you behaved and the effect on others.

I was stupid to allow your toxic manipulation and influence to affect me for as long as it has. I am and have always been a better person that you will ever be. People who know us both have said that, and that has been something I struggled to accept. But I know it now. Your influence and proximity sucked that knowledge from me, making me see life through the prism of your own damaged and damaging influence.

I acknowledge that one person can cause another pain, but that is a transient thing. Only by actually allowing that pain to linger can it affect a person for as long as it has for me.

I can however be thankful to you for some things.

I see more beauty around me due to your absence. The world around me is a far better place without you. The loving relationships I have are in stark contrast compared to when around you, and for that I shall be eternally thankful.

In the time of greatest trauma when your influence was at its most malevolent, I made discoveries about myself that I probably never would have otherwise. I examined and explored things that I had repressed for decades. Thanks to you, I acknowledged then acted upon the suppressed issues and I know I am a far better person for that.

I had at times equated your actions to those of a dog but I know that is wrong. Dogs are loving, loyal, guilelessly companionable and make the lives of those around them better. You have none of those enviable qualities. Your callous treatment of me and those around me had been such that it shook my confidence in the human race for a time, but now I acknowledge it for what it is. The effect of actions was to bring all around you down your own level.

Yours is not a personality that benefits people, that promotes growth or happiness. Being free of your presence makes that clear.

So Voldemort, if we ever meet again, please don’t acknowledge me. Just go forth happy in your delusion and seek whatever solace there may be in knowing that you are alone in this world in the depth of your toxicity to the human spirit. I do not wish you well, or ill. I wish you nothing at all, for ever more.

This letter to you is my Christmas present to me. I shall have other presents from the many loved ones around me and I shall enjoy them also. I shall go and sit on the deck overlooking a lovely expanse, enjoy a meal with my wife and smile to myself. You are gone.


You know who I am.

Probably one among many.

BDSM and Psychologists

Not All Psychologists are Created Equally

When in a traumatic part of my life I had my first ever time with a psychologist, it was an absolute life changing event. I’d been suffering from life-threatening depression and the whole BDSM thing was reaching a bursting point.

For decades I’d kept this silent quiver of my need for BDSM submerged, in denial. Like a boiling pot, you can only bottle up the steam for so long before something breaks. And so it was for me.

Seeing a psychologist, talk therapy, gave me a revelation about myself and my need for BDSM that was life changing.

It also showed me that my perceptions were not based on reality.


My First Psychologist

In hindsight, I think I was lucky that the first psychologist I spoke with was knowledgeable and empathetic to my needs.

It took a lot of discussion and then trust to expose that I had this need for BDSM. She was the very first person I’d ever told about this – a secret I’d kept for at that time, over 30 years.

She said to me ‘why don’t you do it?‘ and for a woman to say that to me was life changing. She accepted that I had this need? That was extraordinary.

Then she said, ‘it won’t hurt anyone. It won’t change who you are, I can’t understand why you don’t do it‘ and again that was life changing.

For someone with so much angst, those were wonderful words.

Time Passed

Two other psychologists I visited were not for me. One was a smirker – it felt like he looked down his nose. The other was stupid.

Another was a bit of a prude and while I liked her as a person, I felt happier when I stopped seeing her. I just got the feeling it would be all too much for her.

So, these three I never opened up to.

Two Winners!

The previous to current psychologist was extremely accepting. She saw the whole BDSM thing as just another human activity. I was refreshed, happy, delighted, so pleased by that. Then she retired!

The current person I’m seeing (for other issues) is also very accepting. She is not knowledgeable about BDSM, didn’t know about sub-space and I suspect CBT has only the ‘cognitive behavior therapy’ definition for her. It will be interesting to see her face if I spell out the BDSM version should the topic come up.

Why am I seeing someone who is not knowledgeable about BDSM? Simple. She is intelligent, sensible, highly trained, accepting, and helping me in other ways but also with BDSM. She gives me a good perspective, insights, and is helping.

In Conclusion

Not all psychologists are created equal. They are humans, with human weaknesses and strengths. They have their special areas and asking them to deal with BDSM is a challenge if the connection is not there.

However, I have had great value from them.

01 A Naked Slave Kneels Waiting

A Naked Slave Kneels Waiting

She knows a naked man kneels in the dungeon, waiting to call her ‘Mistress’. She smiles at the thought. What an ideal way to start the working day.

The sky high stilettos putting her height at nearly six and a half feet make a deliciously loud clacking sound echoing beautifully down the corridor as she walks to the main dungeon. Getting heels to make a sound like that is not by chance. Nothing is by chance here. She manages it all, she is Mistress. The Mistress.

Her long legs in form fitting leather trousers, the wide belt, the leather bra above the strappy corset then a spike collar complete the ensemble perfectly. Her razor sharp and severe makeup adds to the effect, making it a certainty for who and what she is.

There is absolutely no ambiguity. She is a dominatrix. She is ‘Mistress’ to all in the dungeon.

Mistress Tish

As she walks, her slight smile is subdued, barely hinting at her pleasure. This has become something she likes, the certainty of the dungeon. It promises, she delivers. There is honesty without ambiguity or false promises in the dungeon.

Mother Daughter Discipline for Slave Darryl

This client likes the strict leather mistress look with all the trimmings. He likes all the major fetishes happening, but it is the corporal that he comes for. Does he need or want corporal? Does it matter? He comes for heavy corporal punishment which the cane she carries swishing through the air suggests. That and his love of a good looking woman dressed in leather fetish which she dresses for. She enjoys the theater of it all.

Oh, and he comes for Angel. He certainly comes for Angel the full service submissive, and in every way too.

Taking her time, stepping forcefully, she knows the echoes of her footsteps will be ramping up his anticipation. He knows how she sounds in heels. He knows she is approaching. Why have a concrete corridor but for the echoes?

She puts her hand firmly on the door handle and keeps it there for a trio of seconds, making it rattle just once. Then she rattles it again, taking all the time in the world. She turns it slowly.

She owns time. How could Mistress not own time?

Anticipation for slave is everything as after all, a great session works the head space and anticipation is key to that. She controls everything the slave experiences, and her control of time is central.

On entering the dungeon she finds the naked and recently showered slave kneeling on the floor with the backs of his hands on his knees. Just as he should. He is subservient. His head is down. His hair is still a little damp from the shower he’s just taken. He knows his place in the dungeon.

This is how he’s been taught he must present himself for Mistress.

Sometimes she marvels at just how she’s come to be a dominatrix. It is a huge leap from her early life. She feels the smile at that thought then subdues it. She should not smile without good reason, other than for the obvious, the smile of Mistress disciplining her slave. A smile must be earned. For slave to earn that smile, there is a price to be paid.

She is now always The Mistress. At first it had only been when she was in the dungeon working that her personality flared up into this dimension, into this dominatrix persona. She went from geeky physics and mathematics student to dominatrix Mistress by crossing the threshold.

That was a revelation to her. Just being in the dungeon changed her personality, like flicking a switch.

Then it had been as soon as she put on her working clothes that she felt the change occur. The association between her fetish outfits and her role becoming so strong it was irresistible. Quickly fetish became normal and what was once ‘out there’ became her working clothes.

Now, after a few years in the dungeon and countless sessions, it’s morphed into a personality trait she mostly keeps under control. It has become a side of her that only occasionally peeks out unless she is at work.

She’s thought about it at times and she knows what it is.

She’s reasoned, you can only play act at being something for so long before you became it. If there was a little predilection toward it in the first place then so much the better, and so much more predictable and irresistible the change in personality. It has become one of her more surprising pleasures to become the dominatrix in public when it’s required.

A server forgetting her order? Well, the sharp look with the quiet almost whispered commands demanding respect and attention does the trick. They never ever forget again, and when she revisits some weeks or months later, they remember her. Especially the men.

She’s mastered the soul piercing stare giving infinite reproach, the whole visage screaming dominatrix coming to bear on the luckless incompetent. And they know. There is something in most people that understands what dominance is, what a dominatrix demands even when she’s not in the dungeon.

Telemarketers are now an undiluted pleasure. When they call SatisfactionX where she works they get put through to her, the reception staff knowing the pleasure they bring. She has so much fun with them. As soon as they ask her name, and she volunteers one if they don’t, she tells them Mistress Tish. She tells them what she is; “I am a dominatrix.” Then she tells them what she is wearing and what she does. Few can continue a call after that, their script and mental processes hopelessly derailed. For those who can, the mention of some corporal and then pegging play with her strap on and maybe getting Angel involved scares the remainder off.

She has it in her mind that one day she’ll win a client from one of these phone calls, but they are usually from another country. But it doesn’t stop her from trying. And smiling. A girl has to get he pleasure from wherever she can.

But being a dominatrix has rewards all its own. And also its pitfalls.

What Makes a Great Dominatrix?

She’s wondered at this at times. She knows she is intelligent, her PhD tells her that, and she enjoys her work here in the dungeon. Those are big pluses in any profession, not just in the dungeon.

She knows any fool can get dressed in fetish, put someone into bondage and give them a whipping. She’s seen that with apprentices coming and going, lasting only a week or two before they realize it’s not for them. It takes some modicum of talent and aptitude to keep clients coming back for more.

Focus and concentration are her greatest assets. She listens to her clients with her ears, certainly, but she uses all her senses to understand their need. She must know their desires, and sound gives only so much away. She must know their fears as well as their desired and most importantly, how they are to be catered for.

For a client afraid of being caned, does she need to avoid that or is the fear part of the deal? Does he need to be strapped down onto the caning bench, teased, then given mild strokes to make his emotions surge? Or is that a session breaker? Will Angel working her magic on that same client require the client to be caned hard to slow down the inevitable cathartic release? Then the most difficult question of all, does the client know what he or she wants? How can they know without some experience?

No, this is not a job for any fool off the street. It takes keen observation, empathy, and an understanding of human  nature.

She knows she isn’t psychic but she tries very hard to be exactly that. She watches a client’s reaction, noting the way they move, their cries, the way their eyes move and react, the way their body stiffens and which parts stiffen. She looks for every nuance and builds them into the session, adjusting to suit. If they are gagged it is a particular challenge but her study of them, her close connection to them is indispensable. When the whip strikes, how do they move? Those are telling moments she must not miss.

She knows every slave, every client, is different and they all have their quirks. My goodness, do they ever. Sometimes she smiles when she thinks of Robyn and her peculiar reaction in bondage when she’s disciplined. How one woman can scream such abuse at an employer without repeating herself is a mystery. Then again, Robyn is clearly suffering in her life and only the heavy corporal, bondage and the expert ministrations of Angel make her life bearable.

Later, days and weeks and months later, she knows her clients will relive all the special moments in the dungeon over and over, always thinking about Mistress. She is under no illusion, she knows how they will be using those memories.

Sometimes in the night when she is alone in bed, lonely, she thinks of Angel and Robyn, then her own special memories and thoughts intrude. She’s been strictly hetero to this time in her life but she could maybe change for either of them. That repeated thought when it comes in her loneliness lingers till she finds relief from her mechanical friends.

Angel has a raw unabashed sexuality that exudes from every pore of her body. She knows how to bring pleasure to any man or woman, but more importantly, she knows how to prolong it. She knows how to make it linger and last so the recipient is both drained and shaken from the experience, left limp and gasping. She could do with a little of that shaken and released feelings at times. And gasping. A little gasping would go a long way as it’s been a while since she had a good gasp.

Then Robyn. What a partner she’d make. Volatile, intelligent, witty and with all the looks and curves in the right places. Life would not be dull with Robyn. She thinks of herself on an outing with Robyn, both in fetish, and how they’d turn heads. Maybe she could put a collar on Robyn, and a gag, then take her to a fetish party on the end of a leash, her hands cuffed, then occasionally she’d reveal something of Robyn’s. She’d reach around and pop a breast out, then the other, then remove a skirt, till Robyn was on display. That thought always brings a smile. Or substitute Angel for Robyn and let the games begin.

So what makes a great dominatrix? In the end it is empathy, a connection to her clients. She can put herself in her client’s place, she can get into their head spaces and really push them into where they need to go.

After all, she has her own sessions and Mistress Magenta does exactly that to herself.

But she is working now. Focus!

Darryl Needs Attention

While she’s been thinking of herself and her own needs, save Darryl kneels submissively and correctly at her feet. Naked. Head down. The backs of his hands on knees. Just so.

Standing in front of him then using the cane she lifts his head up till he is looking at her.

She sees the deep appreciation as his eyes roam over her leather clad legs then up her body, slowly savoring the closeness to his fetish, his dream come true. She sees the adoration and the nervousness which are the norm for a slave; he had most likely been thinking of this moment for days. And now it is happening. Now it is his world. When his eyes find hers, she sees the instant of surprise turn and bloom into fear, just as they should, just as she causes.

She gives him the slightest of smiles, a slightly feral smile, just enough to increase his fear, then she drops the smile. The red contact lenses she wears seldom fail to produce that reaction in a client. They may expect it in subsequent sessions, however the expectation and the reality don’t mitigate against surprise then fear. It is something that gets into the slave, gets into their soul and pushes them deeper into the session. The unexpected is always powerful.

Putting the cane down on the bondage bench, after giving it’s leather top a crisp stroke that echoes round the room, she takes a wide leather collar from the wall of equipment. Holding it between her hands so he can see it, stroking the leather, then moving behind him, she straps it round his neck. Firmly. Not a word need be spoken, not a word is needed. The whole time his eyes in the mirror never leave her leather clad form for an instant as she arranges the collar, moves it, has her hands on it as she adjusts it so it sits just right.

She put a finger through the ring at the front. She jerked it from side to side for a moment. She made him aware of it, letting him feel her arm reaching round in front to jerk the collar, to know that Mistress controls him. Her scent will be strong in his nostrils, along with the leather, adding another dimension to his senses lighting off and enveloping him.

She returned to the wall then turned the handle on the suspension winch, lowering the bar till it is just above his kneeling head.

Taking up a pair of wide thick leather cuffs she strapped them firmly onto his wrists. Using clips, she attached the D rings on the cuffs onto the ends of the suspension bar.

Slave Darryl is now bound and at her mercy.

Taking her time, adjusting the cuffs the same as she’s done with the collar, she runs her hands over the cuffs and adjusts them till they are tight. It is all part of the process, the inspection, the adjustment, the movement and the touching. She can put on a collar or wrist cuff in a few seconds, any idiot can do that. It takes skill to string it out, to make it an art form in itself, to increase the tension, to increase the anticipation and without doubt to feed the fetish of the slave.

Wasting time in the dungeon is a an unprofessional sin, she feels. Her clients pay her handsomely for the privilege of being in her presence. She makes sure she uses the time productively, engaging their fetishes, their senses, making the experience complete. That’s the secret to building up the large stable of clients she has.

She works every moment in the dungeon into the session to make sure it fits together so the client takes each of those moments and makes them their own. She owns time, she gives time to the slave.

She cranks the winch to pull him upright till he’s standing tall, just short of having to stand on tip-toe with the floor to ceiling mirror in front of him. This is the moment when he becomes fully exposed and opened to her. For the new slave, this is the most challenging moment.

Now Darryl knows Mistress can do as she pleases. Now his head is working overtime. Kneeling he had been ‘coiled up’ hunched over on the floor and almost hiding in the dungeon. Strung up by the winch and exposed he is open and available for whatever she wants to do. Now his submission to the Strict Leather Mistress has become very real.

She moves in front of him with her hands on her hips showing disapproval, her face showing no hint of a smile or softness. She inspects his body from his toes up to his eyes taking her time and owning the moment.

Locking his eyes with hers, she puffs her lips up and shakes her head slightly, slowly, from side to side. she shows disdain, she shows disapproval, she shows slave he is due for punishment.

Silence like this is definitely a head-space thing. Slave will be worrying what Mistress is thinking, what she is going to do. Silence increases the tension significantly.

Walking with her head held high, she takes three bondage belts from the equipment on the wall. Moving in front of him she runs them through her hands, fondling the leather. She puts two over her shoulder. Standing in front of him, belts over a shoulder, and a belt in her hands, running it through her hands it is all theater.

After showing him her appreciation for the belt, she bends and wraps the third round his legs just above his knees then buckles it firmly. She tugs on the free end of the strap making sure it is tight, then runs the end through the keeper to keep it tidy, all the while pushing and pulling him slightly by it.

Standing, she takes a belt off her shoulder then runs it through her hands as she looks at him suggestively. Belt. Mistress. Thrashing. Bondage. Those are the only words going round in his mind.

Standing straight legged so he gets a perfect view of her leather covered rear, she bends then wraps the belt round his legs just below his knees and tugs on it firmly so he knows it’s there, knows she is strapping him up tight. He is in tight bondage.

She stands again. She takes the last belt off her shoulder then folds it over, taking her time as she knows he’s watching and mesmerized by the sight of her with the belt. Gripping it by the buckle and free end she wraps it round her hand shortening it to a manageable length. She runs it down over his forehead, down his nose, over his lips and neck then onto his chest. She pulls it back then raps him firmly on the chest with it, once, twice, a third time then she runs it down his chest and over his slowly inflating penis. She looks down at it, small but building, then she runs the belt along its length and finally taps the head with it. Gently. Just a tap to let him know what was coming.

Straight legged again, she bent right over knowing he can’t resist looking at her leather clad back and bum, the leather pants tight now and revealing every inch of her form through the tight leather. He knows she knows what he is doing, and he knows he will be punished for it. That is what Mistress does. She punishes.

She wrapped this last belt round his ankles and in the same way completed his belt bondage.

Taking her time she slowly stood in front of him, again with her hands on her hips, she looked at his feet then ran her gaze slowly, taking her time, moving her eyes over the full length of his body up to his face. She shook her head slowly, using the time, owning the time, owning him.

“You need to be thrashed soundly,” she said quietly, the first words she’d spoken to him. Then making her voice hiss with disapproval and intended malice. In a whisper she added, “You shall be thrashed soundly.”

Getting Darryl Ready For Punishment

Walking to the wall of equipment, her back hiding what she was selecting, his gaze is no doubt fixed on her rear. She lifts and touches a few items, lifts them so he will hear the implements moving. If he watches her closely and she is sure he will, then he will see something in her hand and his imagination will run riot.

Anticipation is everything. Repeated anticipation is better.

She selects the wood handled strap from the wall and holds it in both hands as she returns to stand in front of him again. Looking in his eyes she runs the strap through her hands, showing him, promising him with a look that said it was going to be used and used hard. She runs the strap down his front to tap on his penis again, then moves it up till it is in his face. She holds it against his lips just under his nose so he will be smelling the deep rich scent of leather. And feeling it too.

The scent of the punishing leather will be infusing him. This is not his first session of course, every session he has smelt the leather and known what was to happen so now he is absolutely sure what is coming. Smelling the leather so close, touching it, it all builds the anticipation. Her goal is to engage all his senses. Totally.

Looking into his eyes, she pulls the strap back, then returns it to touch his lips again. “When I return you will be in big trouble slave,” she whispers, making him strain to hear the words. She turns then puts the strap onto the bondage bench beside the cane where he couldn’t fail to see them both.

Taking her time, standing tall and trying to look as ‘regal’ as she can, she walks out of the dungeon then slams the door hard. His penis had been at half mast, which wasn’t bad for start of session and not really doing much other than the bondage and some tease.

She hides the smile as she leaves the dungeon.

The Naughty Angel

Walking across the corridor to the staff area, she entered the key code on the pad then opened the staff room door. She crossed the room to the woman sitting on the sofa.

She was a sweetie, one of her favorites. Dressed in a school uniform, hair in a pair of high pig tails she looked like she was just out of school and on her way to the mall. She was in fact older than herself and close to thirty years old. Clever makeup and lots of skin care made her look cheer leader fresh and fabulous. The customers loved her and for double sessions like this, she was perfect.

“Christ Angel, I feel like a total bitch some days but he gets off on it something wicked, he’s half primed already. He’s in suspension and quivering. Give him a few minutes then do your stuff. I’ll give you five minutes with him then come storming in.”

Angel grinned, “Tish, you’re smoking hot. Those red contacts scared the crap out of me the first time I saw them.”

She laughed, “The optometrist wondered why I wanted them and the black ones. I told him it was for a costume party. Told the truth I suppose. One thing, make sure he doesn’t pop off. He’s wound up like a spring in there and it won’t take much.”

Angel grinned, “Don’t worry. I’ll time it so he blasts his brains out right on time. Just give me the nod and the Angel Of Passion will do her magic.”

She went back to the kitchenette and got a long glass of water, took a lemon from the fridge and cut it in half then squeezed the juice into her water. As she drank, Angel got up, gave her a nod with a huge smile, then left for the dungeon.

Darryl was in for a pleasant but frustrating five minutes.

Taking her time, letting herself relax for a while she drank and thought about how on earth she could get a job using her PhD. That felt like light years away as she sat dressed in fetish.

After her drink, she walked on tip toes as quietly as she could out of the staff room, listening carefully. She crossed the corridor then stood outside the dungeon. She put her ear to the door to listen to Angel get Darryl’s mind and libido well and truly spinning into overdrive.

Darryl, I’m Angel. Mistress sent me in to make sure you’re a good boy and don’t get into any trouble.‘ There was silence then she heard a deep groan. Angel had most likely spent time circling Darryl, looking round the dungeon and touching things as if it was her first time in there and made Darryl wonder what was happening. From the reaction, she guessed Angel had put her hand exactly where Darryl most wanted it. ‘Good boys don’t let their thingies get all hard and expose themselves to nice girls like me. What is Mistress going to say.‘ She heard another groan. ‘What is Mistress going to do.’

Poor Darryl was well in her grip which brought a grin to her face. This was more fun than she imagined, and every single time too.

Thinking up scenarios, going over them with Angel and setting it all up was hugely pleasing. She’d worked up dozens of different scenarios, most just for herself, and some like this one with an assistant who may be a submissive or a working girl for an extra special happy ending.

Sometimes at night when she’d worked on these she thought she would make a good screen play writer. These were scripts and she and Angel the actors for this special private theater. She’d printed them out then put them into a slip jacket folder and put dividers between each. Then, when she used one on a client, she put a note in his file and looked for improvement or change for any next time the scenario was used. This was the third time she and Angel had done this one, ‘Mistress And Daughter’ it was called, but the first time for Darryl. Maybe next time he’d be sent to the woodshed. That one was always fun.

She was a highly organized mistress and also the most in demand now. She took it as a compliment that she’d come from nothing to having a regularly fully booked shift in just a few years. It was pleasing to be in demand and even to have to turn down some clients because she was fully booked or they were pigs. When she, in person on the phone told them ‘Your behavior was completely unacceptable last time. Call back in two months if you want another session and you will bring a written description of what you did wrong, and apology, and two boxes of chocolates. Lindt.‘ Amusingly she’d never lost a client by doing this and the other staff had enjoyed the chocolates. She never ate them.

Darryl.’ Angel made it sound do sexy with a husky voice making all his dreams come true. ‘Mistress left the strap and the cane there. I can see them Darryl. Is Mistress going to c-a-n-e you? Is she going to s-t-r-a-p you? Really hard Darryl. Is she going to punish you Darryl? If she catches me like this Mistress might c-a-n-e ME and she might s-t-r-a-p ME. She might bend me over that bondage bench. She might use some straps to hold me in place then swish, swish, swish and crack, crack, crack, the c-a-n-e and the s-t-r-a-p will come down on my soft little bottom. Would you like that Darryl? What would you do? Would you save me Darryl? Would you save my soft little bottom from the c-a-n-e and the s-t-r-a-p Darryl, would you? I’d be ever so grateful.’

Angel was perfect for this type of session. She was cheeky, young looking and she oozed raw sex appeal in her school uniform and her perfume would be going up his nose, into his brain then throbbing in his erection in no time flat. No doubt she’d be squeezing him in just the right place to make his eyes cross and befuddle his brain.

Yes miss, of course miss, I’d do anything for you miss.‘ Darryl was well and truly sent. Time for the real fun to begin.

She put her hand on the door handle, silently, not moving it a fraction. Then she turned it quickly while she brought the flat of her other hand down hard on the door making a huge bang as she stormed inside. For Darryl it would have scared the daylights out of him.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” she thundered, knowing full well as it was in the script for the session.

Angel was kneeling in front of Darryl, his fully erect cock in her right hand, his balls in her left and she was bending down close to taking him in her mouth. Darryl was looking totally sent, lost and deeply in lust too by the looks.

She’d timed it perfectly to interrupt Angel and her ministrations. Then again, she was probably five minutes early if Daryl had any say in the matter. Telling Angel to not let Darryl pop off had been good advice by the looks of what was happening.

Angel squealed, “Sorry Mistress, really sorry Mistress.” She was panting, doing a brilliant job of it but not letting go of Darryl for a moment. “Darryl’s been a very naughty boy getting me all excited.” She panted some more, “Please don’t punish me Mistress.”

It was hard not to smile, seeing as Angel still had her hands full of Darryl.

An Angel In Trouble

“RIGHT,” she thundered as she picked up the wood handled strap off the bondage bench and held it between her hands. She moved the leather between her hands for a few seconds, showing it off to Darryl. She slapped a hand with it to get their attention, then she cracked it down loudly on the bench putting some effort it into.

Darryl hadn’t taken his eyes off her or the strap for an instant. “Oh no, please Mistress,” he gasped. He’d had his buns warmed by that strap before, many times, and knew exactly how it felt.

For that matter, she’d had also felt it many times when her own special needs took her to Magenta for a sub session. But that was another story.

“BEND, YOU NAUGHT GIRL.” She pointed the strap at the bondage bench only a few feet in front of Darryl.

Angel released Darryl’s naughty bits then stood shakily, “I’m sorry Mistress, you’re not going to s-t-r-a-p me are you?” She worked the word strap making sure Darryl was focusing on it, making the harshness of the word sharp and painful sounding. For Darryl it made him even more excited.

She pointed at the bench and shook the strap, she looked fierce, she put her other hand on her hip with her elbow out and waited with the strap pointing at the bench.

Angel made a performance of looking sad, upset, then fearful. She squealed a little as she bent, her chest flat on the leather of the bench, her arms pushed forward and gripping the other side.

She moved behind Angel then extended her arm with the strap and tapped Angel’s bottom over her skirt and whatever underwear she had on. She brought her arm back and in slow motion tested how the strap would fly through the air then land making a show of it. She shook her head, “NO. Not Happy Angel. Skirt up, knickers down,” she snapped waving the strap at her, making it look all very theatrical.

Angel gasped, “Oh no Mistress please, please no, not the strap on my bare bottom. It hurts far too much more on the bare.”

She brooked no dissent. Winding up she gave Angel a huge stroke of the strap over the back of her bare thighs, right in the middle of her thighs, the strap sounding gunshot sharp and painful as it echoed down the corridor outside.

Angel squealed. She jumped in the air and rubbed her thighs, the red band showing vividly, dancing from foot to foot squealing, “Eeeaggghhh, Mistress, not on my thighs Mistress, it hurts too much Mistress,” as she jumped from foot to foot and shook her legs.

Angel had a ‘too hard word’ of bananas which she seldom used. Her mercy word. Thigh strapping and red welts was all par for the course for Angel.

She almost smiled, Angel could take a strapping like that all damn afternoon, the theater of her getting the strap and dancing around was for Darryl’s benefit and, with a sly glance, she saw his ardor barometer hadn’t drooped at all. The flesh compass needle was pointing up nicely, standing tall and proud and if anything, looking a little painful in its intensity. It wouldn’t take much to make him pop off but that wasn’t going to happen for another frustrating half hour at least.

If she and Angel had any say in it, Darryl was in real danger of getting a muscle strain where a splint would make getting dressed difficult, and rubbing liniment into it would make his eyes cross.

Angel pulled her knickers down then stepped out of them. Then she bent back over the bondage bench and flicked up the short skirt she was wearing so her as yet unblemished bottom was facing into the room, the only mark on Angel the angry red band across her mid-thighs.

“Now you need a strapping my girl,” she said as she measured up and tapped the bottom in front of her with the wood handled strap, flicking it up, letting it fall, then repeating it all for Darryl’s benefit.

She wound up then brought her arm forward at speed making the strap swish slightly as it moved through the air. It wasn’t the hardest stroke she could give by any means, about half power, but the sound of leather strap on bent feminine bare bottom was a delightfully loud crack. With that crack a faint red band was instantly painted across the center of Angels bottom. She knew it would be painful but Angel was a true masochist, loving the out of body feeling and the whole sub-space thing that strict corporal gave. Bent over the leather bondage bench, in the dungeon, her face against the leather, this was something Angel would otherwise probably be paying for if didn’t work here

Angel squealed and shook her hips, her bottom going from side to side, then it jerked up and down for a moment as she lifted and raised. All the while her pussy appeared between her legs, winking at Darryl, sometimes gaping, sometimes hidden as she shook her hips and legs. For Darryl it was like a view of heaven.

She delayed only a few moments till Angel stabilized. Then she struck again, the strap landing slightly lower. Waiting a dozen seconds between each stroke, she worked the strap down, overlapping strokes and taking her time. Angel danced and squirmed giving Darryl a wonderfully erotic show for his money as the loud cracks of the strap barked and the red band on her bottom grew wider and turned a deeper shade of red.

After only a half dozen strokes the strap cracked across the tops of her thighs and Angel screamed, “Oh Mistress, oh Mistress, not my thighs, I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again. Please go easy Mistress, you’ve s-t-r-a-p-p-e-d me so hard. I won’t be able to sit for days.”

Darryl picked up on that cue just as he should have, “Mistress Tish, it was all my fault. Please spare Angel, please give her strokes to me.”

She stopped for a moment, then she ran the strap through her hand enjoying the feel of the leather.

She snap-cracked another hard stroke across the same place on the top of Angel’s thighs making Angel jump and squeal even more.

She looked at the bottom in front of her, and she looked at the slave standing tall in bondage with his erection sticking straight out looking painful. “Slave, I think she needs more strap, much more of the strap, she can’t get off this lightly.”

Then she repeated the stroke making it three to the same place and the red band was bright red now. Angel reacted predictably, jumping and waving her butt in the air, showing off her charms time and again as she squealed and shook herself.

“Slave!. Naughty girl Angel must learn first hand that when she misbehaves she gets the s-t-r-a-p,” she said sharply emphasizing the implement of punishment at the same time as she ran it though her hands.

Then she aimed a little higher and cracked the strap down on the lower portion of Angels bottom. It too wobbled and Angel squealed again. “But slave Darryl, Mistress enjoys using her strap. She enjoys it so much.”

She gave Angel another stroke over the top of the previous one and Angel wailed. “Mistress needs naughty girls to know what the s-t-r-a-p feels like slave Darryl.”

Again she cracked the strap over the middle of Angels bottom lifting Angel onto her toes as she hissed loudly. “This s-t-r-a-p is so good at teaching naughty girls,” she said as she ran it through her hands.

Another stroke cracked over the top of Angels bottom bringing the same squeal and a little dance from her feet making her legs shake and move open and closed as the sting worked its way into Angel. “Slave Darryl, if Mistress stops s-t-r-a-p-p-i-n-g a naughty girls bottom, who will she strap then? Who should Mistress s-t-r-a-p on then slave Darryl?”

She lifted the strap and gave Angel another huge stroke over the top of her bottom cheeks where the previous one had landed. Angel leaped into the air and shook her hips. “Well slave Darryl? Who should Mistress s-t-r-a-p?” she asked as she ran the wood handled strap through her hands between strokes.

Darryl’s gaze was alternating between the strap in her hand, herself in her dominatrix gear and the bent over form of Angel. Angel was hard to resist with her hugely red striped rear on display and the charms between her legs occasionally visible in her gyrations. Darryl did like Angel, it was hard not to.

He whispered, “Me Mistress. Can I please save Angel from the strap, please Mistress?”

She walked in front of Darryl, his erection pointing straight at her. He did get a thrill from watching her, all her clients did, and seeing Angel punished like that was an added turn on.

Men could be so predictable sometimes.

She rubbed the strap on his chest, then tapped him with it. “Certainly slave but Angel does need more. Lots more. She’s not had anywhere near enough. You can have them.” She tapped his chest again then she walked behind him, she measured up by tapping his bottom with the strap and she looked in the mirror. Then she added, “With interest, of course.”

Darryl was watching her closely and his erection was if anything even more pronounced now that his punishment was at hand.

She wound up and gave Darryl a hard stroke across the middle of his bottom, much harder than she’d given Angel, the sound loud and sharp with the red band appearing instantly. Darryl gasped loudly, shouting an ‘aagghh’ as the heat and sting worked their way instantly into him.

She continued to strap Darryl. She kept slamming the strap across his bottom hard, waiting just a few seconds between each stroke. She adjusted her aim so that the strokes moved over his bottom spreading and darkening the red band till the whole of his bottom was red.

After a dozen he was shouting. She knew the feeling well, a strapping like this was always painful.

She started on the second dozen, putting effort into the strokes, making them count. This wasn’t a bad upper body workout, winding up, swiveling her hips then wrenching her arm around to give the leather plenty of speed took muscle in her arms, shoulders, back and abs. If she’d been a tennis player, that would have been an advantage. Strapping took more effort than a caning but she tended to like it more. There was something about the sound of a good strapping when it was done right. A perfect stroke made such a delicious crack she usually had to suppress a smile.

And that was the case now. the strap on Darryl’s butt was making the perfect sounds; crisp, sharp, loud and from the reaction, were getting through to him.

She knew he’d have been trying to stay quiet but this was too much for him and anyway, staying quiet was a signal to her she wasn’t going hard enough. This wasn’t a warm up as such, she’d gone straight into a hard strapping ‘cold’ so it would be nicely challenging for him. The wood handled strap wasn’t all that severe but without a warm up and with some force it did work well.

After two dozen, his butt was looking red so she moved her aim lower. She cracked the strap just under his bottom onto his thighs making him shout out. This and the feel of bondage was why she used the belts to strap his legs together. With them bound he couldn’t shake his legs or try to evade the leather. she got an ideal target.

With the first hard stroke to the thighs, he shouted out loud. She wasn’t surprised, she found a strapping to the thighs damn hard to take also. “Too loud,” she said so she put the strap down then strapped a ball gag into his mouth nice and tight. She stood in front of him, put a finger on the center of the rubber ball and pressed it gently. “Mistress doesn’t like distractions when she’s strapping a naughty slave.”

Let’s start again,” she said then she strapped his thighs again, but she made it harder, much harder. She always found a gag made taking punishment easier, so she assumed all her slaves did as well.

Darryl jumped, he squirmed, he tried to shout out again but the ball gag kept him quiet. “Good,” she said then she strapped him again and again till the back of his thighs were good and red, the red from the top of his butt all the way down to the back of his knees a nice even shade of pain.

She put the wood handled strap on the bondage bench by Angel then went to the wall of gear. She moved her hand across the implements, quite sure Darryl would be watching her as best he could. She chose something nice and severe.

Carrying it back to Darryl and put it up to his face, then she rubbed it down his front and touched his straining penis with it, just tapping it. One glance made her think that if she wasn’t careful it would pop off and make an awful mess.

She walked behind Darryl then gave him a hard crack of the strap whip high up across his shoulders, the solid belt leather lashes making an agreeable crack as they landed.

As whips and floggers and cats went, this was particularly painful. The lashes were made with belt leather so they were hard and painful if applied with any force which she was of course doing. Darryl’s reaction was predictable. He jumped and tried to evade the hard stinging but in his bondage that wasn’t going to happen.

She took her time giving Darryl six firm strokes, starting across his shoulders then working them down his back. Then she cracked the whip across his butt making him jump and shake. She gave him another then another stroke till he’d taken a half dozen and his butt was showing the red stripes quite plainly.

Taking her time, letting Darryl settle and recover for a moment, she gave him a hard stroke across his thighs. This made him jump and shake even more. Clearly the strap whip across the thighs was painful, so she did it again. Like his butt and his back and shoulders, she gave him a half dozen very hard strokes across his thighs, making the leather lashes sing though the air then crack across the backs of his legs.

Darryl's Reward

Darryl was looking wasted, almost at his limit so she decided to finish him off quickly with a half dozen medium strokes of the strap whip knowing they would push him hard.

Two lashes of the strap-whip cracked across Darryl’s shoulders making him gasp into his gag, it was just about impossible not to. She gave him two to his butt then two particularly hard ones to the backs of his thighs to finish him off. The quick lashes were given only a second or two apart and assaulting him like that finished him totally, his senses overloaded in the speed of the lashing. She saw he was standing totally tensed up, looking spaced out, hardly able to move or cope with the lashing. He couldn’t take much more the way he looked. She glanced in the mirror and looked at Darryl’s front, he was completely flaccid now, the whipping had taken the ardor completely out his penis and replaced it with a visit to sub-space no doubt. Erections and sub-space seldom worked well together she’d found; it was one or the other, seldom both.

Angel was another matter though. She was laying on the bondage bench, watching in the mirror, her red butt and thighs still looking painful. She’d opened her legs slightly so Darryl would be looking at all her charms, either that or she had a red hit butt and thighs and now her pussy was over heating so she needed some air to it. Then again it was probably the last option knowing Angel the way she did.

Behave you two,” she said, “I’m going to get a quick drink. I’ll be back.” With that she put the strap whip on the bondage bench beside the wood handled strap then left the dungeon, and stepping loudly, went into the staff room.

She had her long drink of ice water, sat for a few minutes then stepping very quietly she crossed the corridor to the dungeon.

Slipping into the dungeon silently she found exactly what she expected, Angel was holding Darryl’s penis again, massaging it to full erection as she slipped a condom over it. Waiting a moment she saw Angel run her hand along its length making Darryl gasp yet again into the gag, his hips jumping as she handled him. She cupped his balls with her other hand as she stroked his penis gently. She hoped Angel was careful else he’d pop-off well before time and miss out on his special treat.

Both of them had been oblivious of her, both wrapped up in what Angel had been doing and it was no surprise. Both of them with their bright red butts would not be thinking about much else other than Angel and her soft fondling hands.

“You naughty girl,” she said making Angel jump in surprise, “You need another good hard strapping for that. I haven’t forgiven you, and now you’re still playing with Darryl’s cock. Stand up, arms out in front you naughty girl,” she snapped.

Angel stood then put her wrists out in front of her. Taking up a bondage belt she wrapped each wrist then both, then buckled the belt firmly. Taking another longer belt she ran it through the belt circling Angels wrists then using it, pulled Angel forward till she was face to face with Darryl. Reaching up she flicked the end of the belt over the suspension bar, brought it back down then buckled it firmly pulling Angel up on her toes almost, her wrists pulled up by the belt to the suspension bar, her arms either side of Darryl’s face and her body against him.

She then took a much longer belt then wrapped it round both their waists. Cinching it up tight she made the two of them press together and stand face to face, touching, unable to pull apart. With Angels arms either side of Darryl’s face and making him look at her in the eyes he was pressed up against the gorgeous woman he fancied so much. No doubt her perfume would be sending him higher and higher, working with the heat from his strapping and whipping to excite him. And Angel too. She said she loved these sessions and that she’d got off more than once in them.

She slowly took her belt off, ran it through her hands once, then folded it in half. She stood behind Darryl and to his left so he had a great view of her in the mirror. Slaves liked that. She ran the folded belt through her hands then clenched it firmly making it into a fine strap for his bottom. They liked seeing that too.

She reached forward with the belt then tapped his welted bottom with it. He jumped slightly, then she pulled her arm back and winding up brought it forward and round in a perfect crisp sounding stroke. The idea was to apply the belt to the whole width of the bottom, or the thighs, so it impacted all at once. She also made sure she put every ounce of energy into the leather so that the crack was high pitched and crisp making the effect what it should be, severe.

The first belt stroke was a beauty just as she intended. Darryl’s eyes bulged and he gasped out in pain, ‘ahhgh’ he grunted into the gag. More than that, his hips surged forward from the power of the stroke making his front rub against Angel. “Oo-ohhh,” he gurgled into the gag in the pleasure of the contact. Angel gave him a little hip surge of her own, rolling her hips, rotating them to give his penis some extra attention. With his face between her arms and looking into her eyes it was extremely intimate and even more erotic.

She brought her arm back then laid another hard stroke of the belt across the same place on his bottom. This made him jerk his hips back and forward almost as if he was fucking Angel and with that Angel continued giving him extra hip surges just to spice it up.

From the way he was jerking and rotating his hips, he didn’t look like he was far away from coming. It was far too soon for that.

“Time to s-t-r-a-p my naughty girl again. Another s-t-r-a-p-p-i-n-g,” she said as she moved behind Angel.

Darryl was looking at her, face on, as she ran the belt through her hands. “The s-t-r-a-p for you my girl,” she said waving the belt, “a hard s-t-r-a-p-p-i-n-g from Mistresses belt,” she said again highlighting the words, tweaking Darryl’s fetishes as he watched her in the mirror while she waved the belt around.

She wound up then delivered a crisp stroke to the center of Angels already red bottom. Angel shrieked and rotated her hips sending Darryl into a spasm of erotic rubbing against her.

She quickly wound up then gave Angel a second stroke then decided that unless she gave Darryl another strapping right now he would blast his load against Angel within seconds. Then again, it would probably be impossible not to with Angel gyrating against him like she was. Her gasping, her face in front of his as she moved against him would be too much for any slave.

She stepped Darryl him and gave him a crisp quick six of the best. Each stroke was hard and only a few seconds from the previous and spaced out so the whole of his bottom took a licking. Each stroke cracked down across his bottom making him surge forward into Angel and rubbing him closer to climax, yet the fire in his bottom held him back. The six strokes were fast and furious and did serve to cool his ardor but the lingering heat and friction against Angel surged his desire.

Standing in front of Darryl she ran the belt through her hands as she looked him in the eyes. Darryl was now rubbing himself against Angel uncontrollably. “Another strapping for you my naughty girl then the cane!” she said loudly. “I’ll cane that naughty bottom of yours till it is smoking hot and covered in nice red cane stripes.”

She positioned herself then gave Angel a hard stroke. Like the last time, Angel reacted, jerked frantically and gasped out loudly as she tried to evade the evil sting in her bottom. Most of it was play acting, Angel took a hard strapping with ease but Darryl wasn’t to know that.

Waiting just a few seconds for Angel to stop squirming she wound up and gave her a second firm stroke. This time Darryl was gasping also, groaning and moaning as he got closer and closer. Angel was giving small shrieks as she quivered against him, her hips moving and gyrating uncontrollably.

The third stroke of the belt low on Angels bottom was the last. Angel bucked hard, shrieked loudly and then Darryl started to shake and shudder uncontrollably. She stood in front of him and watched as he climaxed, running the belt through her hands as he continued to shake, his eyes rolled back but aware of her commanding presence. As orgasms go, she thought it was a powerful one. As for Angel, she was rubbing herself sensually against Darryl, her bottom quivering and shaking, going from side to side. Poor Darryl, with the waist belt holding them close together he couldn’t escape the intimate caress of Angel’s tummy against his penis as she moved and writhed. With his flaming bottom and spent penis he was in a different world of sensation and if anything, trying to minimize that sensation now that he’d come so hard.

This was an interesting time. Should she leave them there like that? Leave them for a few minutes to recover or should she unstrap Angel and let her take care of Darryl? Then again, she could give them both a crisp six of the best with the cane. After a climax the cane was particularly difficult to take which was the whole idea. Each had its own possibilities, its own rewards.

She chose to leave them in intimate bondage. She slowly wound the belt round her waist, buckled it slowly sneaking a glance to make sure Darryl was watching, then left the room after turning out the light. In darkness, the two of them strapped together and feeling their flaming bottoms, it should be a delicious and intimate time, particularly so for Darryl after such a hard cum against Angel. She wondered if Angel would say something to Darryl, something to make him want to return soon. She wouldn’t be surprised at all. Oh. Should she have gagged them both? Now that was a thought.

She went into the staff room then got another long glass of ice water and put some squeezed lemon into it, then stirred in a teaspoon of sugar to sweeten it up and for the sugar surge. It was so refreshing after a session and she was feeling a little dehydrated. You could thrash two pair of bum cheeks for only so long before you got a thirst up. That time was long past.

She sat on the settee and relaxed. She put her head back and thought of Darryl and Angel intimately bound, strapped together and in more ways that one. That made her smile. It was a nice image, both of them with red hot tingling butts, naked, strapped together and occasionally squirming.

Darryl was a nice man, almost a ‘contender’ she thought but she never dated a client and he was quite a bit older than she was. Pity.

One other thought came, there was always Robyn. Now that was a thought, being matchmaker was an all new thought.

Robyn was mostly nice, about the right age for Darryl and they certainly shared BDSM interests. She might make a discrete inquiry with Robyn if she’d be interested and she was certain Darryl would be. Robyn was quite attractive and sensible but she really did struggle with her work stresses. Maybe they could have a dual session to break the ice. Now that could be wickedly good fun. The more she thought about it the better it felt. Should she? Would she lose both of them as clients if they got together and was that a real factor?

She looked across at Magenta, “I’ve left Darryl and Angel strapped up front to front in the dungeon. Darryl had a very happy ending and they’ve both got flaming red buns. How long should I wait and should I cane them both before I unstrap them?” She smiled at Magenta, “That is the dominatrix dilemma.”

There was laughter from Magenta and two of the working girls between clients, relaxing, “Tish you’re a shocker. Give them a few more minutes. Not sure about the cane. Maybe some tease? Tease them about next time? Set the session up early?”

She really liked Magenta, she was sensible and down to earth and didn’t take herself too seriously. She was also clever, “That’s a good idea. I think I will.”

So saying she left the bondage-love-birds for another five minutes then went into the dungeon very quietly. Opening the door silently she wasn’t immediately noticed but when the light turned on they both jumped. She imagined Darryl would be a little sensitive in the penis area after his massive release.

She took the cane off the bondage bench then moved behind Angel. Rapping her smartly, but not hard, Angel squeaked and moved back and forward playing the part perfectly. Darryl groaned loudly and shook his head. He sure was sensitive.

“I should cane you both now. At least six of the best each. Six stingers for that unseemly display. I can’t believe how naughty you were Angel. A caning is the least I should give.”

She walked behind Darryl and rapped him also, a bit harder, he jumped and jerked frantically, the endorphin rush over and so the sting got in deeply. “As for you naughty boy six would be far too few. Far too few. It should be two dozen of the absolute best onto that bottom of yours.” She rapped it again, firmly.

She circled them both, rapping a bottom, stroking a leg, poking a set of ribs with the cane. “I think I shall give them, and give them hard…,” she rapped them both firmly. She circled once more, rapped them both firmly making them jump and gasp, “Next time. Next time you naughty boy and girl be prepared for an extra hard caning.”

She put the cane down on the bench then reached up to unstrap the belt holding Angels arms up high. Then when Angel relaxed down, she unstrapped her wrists. A few seconds later the belt holding them together was released and Angel staggered backward then went to the bondage bench for support.

“Naughty girl,” she said, “take care of slave Darryl. I shall return in ten minutes. Be ready then else I really shall cane you both. Very hard.” She hesitated for a moment, “I wouldn’t mind that.”

She left, went back to the staff room then sat on the settee beside Magenta. “Done. Angel is unstrapping him. He’ll be back, probably in a hurry.”

Magenta laughed, “Tish, you’re going to have to arrange a double domme session soon. I just love working with you.” They both grinned then she had another thought.

Magenta, I have been thinking about something, maybe we can work that in.” They chatted for a while as they designed the double domme session, and Angel was absolutely a feature of it.

When she returned to the dungeon Darryl was looking totally spaced out but happy. After his shower with Angel and managing to compose himself, she saw he was a whole new man.

Most clients liked a shower after a session as it brought them back to earth, the feeling of the water on their skin returning them to the here and now.

Truth be told, she thought sending a client out on the roads driving a car with the wrong head space was not sensible or safe. For intense sessions like this one, a shower and some coming down times was even more necessary.

Darryl was a regular and paid a premium so he got more attention from Angel, and she had no doubt the shared shower had been special. Just looking at him it was plain it had been everything he wanted and the ‘happy ending’ had been good for him judging by the way he shuddered and shook as Angel did her stuff.

That was a good session. She had a half hour free then the next one of her shift was due. She had just enough time to skim the local papers and hope there was a job in physics she could apply for. Not that there have been so far.

00 Mistress Tish – Dominating Gravity

Mistress Tish - The Physicist Dominatrix

Copyright © 14 December 2019 by Trikki Watson. All rights reserved. This abridged series has been given to the website to be released as a series of chapters.

With a PhD in advanced mathematics and quantum foam-space, Loretta can’t find a job that uses her PhD.

However, her part time job in  the dungeon is still enjoyable and gives an enviable income. She just wishes she could use her PhD and also someone to share her life with.

Physicist Dominatrix

Mistress Tish and Angel

Little does she suspect how her life will change over the coming twelve months. Not in a million years would she dream of becoming so in demand, and also so challenged in her personal and both of her professional lives.

The first chapter is coming very soon.