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Having A Belt Fetish

A Belt Fetish For Life

From my early teens I know I had a belt fetish. Mainly it was when a woman wore a wide belt, the wider the better and only of leather. If it was about two inches wide then it would draw my eyes like a magnet. Irresistible.

Men wearing belts don’t do it for me, nor do belts made with anything other than wide solid leather.

While I really don’t care for women’s fashions in general, I do take note of the belt trends. The 60’s, 70’s and 80’s had some lovely hip slung wide belts. These never cease to please.

Who wears the best belts? Google search “diane keaton belt” and you will be delighted if you have my fetish. She is on a level all her own when it comes to wearing wide belts.

I rate women’s belts. Diane Keaton would have to be a 10/10 every time. I have never seen her with anything more narrow than a 2 inch belt and 3 inch is the norm.

Leather belts are so useful for BDSM and the fetishist like me. My first bondage experience was with leather luggage straps, belts, and to this day I remember those life changing times.

Belts

Belts work so well at every level. They draw the eye, they make the mind wander. Round mistresses waist they trigger the leather fetish fully. Just picking one up and running it through the hands has its own special appeal.

Belt Fetish and BDSM

I have two 2 inch wide and quite thick leather belts that mistress wears in my pro-dom BDSM sessions. She puts them both around her waist and watching her do that is a special thing for me. It triggers all my fetishes.

For the last 2 sessions she’s worn one over the shoulder like a bandolier, the belt running between her breasts. For any kind of voyeur it is engrossing.

Mistress also paid me a compliment that I found surprising and endearing. Last session she showed me a new belt she’d bought saying she’d been thinking of me when she bought it. She wore it during session – and it looked absolutely fabulous too.

Seeing a woman put on a belt, seeing her take it off, seeing her adjust the belt round her waist is a huge high.

My brown belt is thicker and quite solid, the black is thinner and more supple. During the session mistress will run her hands along a belt, then take it off, double it then give me a strapping with it. Then she’ll put it back round her waist then later it will all repeat again and again.

Time and again mistress will caress the belt…take it off…fold it in half…use it…put it back on again slowly. And I will be closely watching her do that.

strap harness dress

I wish I could find a fish-bone harness (also known as a spine). They are a harness of a dozen  inch and a half wide straps totally wrapping the slave, strapping him up tight.

A strappy women’s harness dress is always good.

Bondage in belts works so well, at every level. Laying in tight bondage, unable to move, feeling the leather against the skin and even the small sounds of leather moving is just delicious.

When mistress buckles the straps up tight, and they wraps the wrists, ankles, knees and maybe straps running between them, slave is totally at her mercy.

Corporal From Belts triggers the fetish making the trip into sub-space quick. Mistress stands in front of slave and takes off her belt. She folds it in half, then gives slave a strapping with it, forcefully slamming the doubled leather down making gunshot loud cracks that echo out of the dungeon and down the corridor. Then and most importantly, she stands in front of slave as she puts it back on and adjusts it round her waist.

Collecting Belts

I haven’t collected a lot of belts, just maybe a dozen if you count stirrup straps as belts.

My two 2 inch wide belts mistress wears are firm favorites. They have roller buckles with a heavy duty feel to them, yet they sit so well on mistresses hips just drawing the eyes in. They were purpose made for me by a saddler. The thinner black belt is quite supple making it easy to accept a strapping from it, while the brown belt is thicker leather and quite severe. I’ve had so many strapping’s from them both, every session for maybe 10 years and usually more than one strapping of at least a dozen strokes a few times per session.

Purchasing women’s belts isn’t a thing for me. I can’t do it. It feels strangely wrong. it feels almost hypocritical to say that – it conjures up the feeling of stealing panties off the washing line (not something I’m into at all – each to their own – not for me).

I get my belts from a saddler – they are made to my specifications and it works well for me. Possibly they are not the cheapest, but the leather is absolutely first class. Some I’ve had for nearly 15 years and while the leather is a little scuffed in places, they are still absolutely excellent.

Stirrup straps are a mixed pleasure. The buckle on the ones I have is a little odd but they do work well for bondage even though they are a little stiff and coarse on the inside. For corporal, a strapping, I find them a little narrow and perhaps not severe enough. A few mistresses have given me some strokes with them but they haven’t really worked all that well.

Perhaps next time when you see a woman wearing a wide belt, or a rack of belts on sale – think of me and smile.

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Getting The Cuts (strap) at School

In Days Of Old - School Was Very Different

When I went to school, we all sat in school desks, two to a desk. These were lined up in rows of usually three, and there would be maybe 5 or 6 desks to a row. Class sizes tended to be larger than they are now, usually in the 30’s.

It was by today’s standard spartan to say the least.

Yes, we sat in these. No padding, no cushions. There was even a hole for an ink-well.

Under the lid we stored books, pencils, other things we brought from home.

School desk

Classroom Discipline - The Cuts

Make no mistake – the practice of beating children for any reason is not condoned, suggested or recommended in any way. It was a disturbingly brutal practice belonging to a time well left behind us.

But that was the way it was, in my day corporal punishment was in-vogue. Most teachers both male and female in our school had a leather strap which was used to enforce classroom discipline.

We would be called out to the front of class, made to present the palm of one hand, then the strap was cracked down on it.

We called it “getting the cuts” – I suppose as a result of how it felt, a sharp biting pain.

Some of the female teachers would send students to a male teacher to be strapped, while others had their own strap. I remember sitting watching younger students come into my class to get the cuts from my teacher. Then one day, he sent his strap back with the children for their teacher to use. She must have used it, I don’t remember them coming back after that.

That was the way it was.

“Come Out The Front”

The command “come out to the front” was dreaded. It meant you were getting the cuts, the strap, the ultimate sanction.

You would have to stand then walk with every eye of the class on you as you moved to the front of the class room.

I remember that feeling of being called out the front. It was doom-dread mixed with a huge amount of embarrassment. ‘I’m getting the cuts’ was my thought. Then ‘everyone is watching’ was the next.

The teacher would go to the desk then produce the feared strap which was usually stowed in a drawer, but if the class had been unruly the teacher might have even been carrying it to ensure attention. Sitting up in your desks, nothing focused the mind like watching the teacher holding the strap, or point it at you when asking a question.

I remember standing out the front waiting to get the cuts with every eye on me and to this day, I feel some embarrassment thinking about that.

The experience of being strapped, of the pain, I barely remember. I do remember the sound of it, and I remember thinking that the others in the class thought it should hurt but I never really felt that. Sure, it stung, but it wasn’t all that much. The embarrassment was the worst part.

In my school one stroke was the norm. I never heard or saw anyone get more than this, and it was only boys. I never saw or heard of a girl getting the cuts. I don’t ever remember thinking this unfair either. Again, it was just the way it was.

How Was It Done?

Usually the student would be told to come out the front of the class, though sometimes the teacher would walk along the aisles between desks and strap a student if need be. It was quicker.

“Hold out your hand,” was the command.

The usual method was to make the student stand with the arm raised, the palm held flat and open, thumb tucked in to make an ideal target. It is a very submissive pose, the flat of the palm presented and open and accepting punishment. That just adds to it all, putting the student in their place.

The teacher then put the strap up and over the shoulder, the elbow tucked into the side to help with aim. There would be a delay of a fraction of a second, just enough to gauge the target, then with a firm downward arm movement the leather strap would flash down and crack across the palm and fingers.

The crack of the strap was quite loud, sharp, I remember that. The sting would follow then you would be told to go back to your seat. Usually there was some form of telling off, usually shouted, where the teacher would point out what you’d done wrong and also warn you that you’d get the cuts again, and more, if you did it again. I remember sometimes the student had to take the strap back to the teachers drawer, or fetch it for use. That never happened to me.

There was variation in teachers and how often they strapped. I remember the worst teacher I had, an older man, shouted a lot and tended to have some spit flying through the air. He was very keen with his strap, just about all the boys got it at least once. I got it twice from him. All that said, I never thought him unfair. He gave a warning then you got the cuts if you messed around. Very simple.

What Strap Variations Were There?

In my school, none. The strap was a piece of leather maybe an inch and a half wide and maybe a foot and a half long. They could be shorter, or narrower or longer – but you get the general idea. They really were a nothing special kind of thing.

I don’t know where they came from. They could have been the end of a belt or a piece of harness perhaps. All the straps I ever saw were like this. I seem to remember that some had some holes in them, not large, which makes me think they were the ends of belts.

There was some school ground folk-lore about straps. The most common was that the teachers starched them, to make them more stiff to hurt more. I doubt that was true. I don’t remember there being discussions on how to make getting the cuts less painful.

Some blogs I’ve read suggested some things to reduce the sting which were quite stupid. We tended to almost ignore it I suppose.

I remember in grade six our teacher didn’t have a strap, so one of the mothers donated hers which he then proceeded to show the class and demonstrate on anyone who wanted to try a stroke. This is mentioned in another post HERE.

Other schools I heard of from a friend had a split strap, known as a tawse. These have a long history of school use going back nearly 100 years and they can be vicious. The split makes them sting much more fiercely. I had never heard or a tawse till getting into BDSM, and now I own a half dozen.

A cane was also used in some schools, but I believe they were mostly (or all?) private schools. Mine was a state school where the strap ruled supreme.

What Would You Get Strapped For?

I remember getting the cuts in grade 4 for talking to a friend. We were whispering and the teacher had enough. We were both told to come out the font, present our hands then he strapped us, one stroke each.

In grade 5 I got the cuts twice. I remember I got the cuts for mucking up a long multiplication sum. He put the sum on the board then checked everyone’s work. Those who got it wrong had to come out the front for the strap. There were three of us. The thing was, he’d said very strongly (shouted) that we must do it his way to get it right. We didn’t listen. We got the cuts.

How Were Students Affected?

I don’t remember feeling any animosity to my teachers. I do not remember any of them abusing their corporal punishment powers. It was to them and us just a part of teaching. I was probably lucky that way. Not everyone was so lucky.

I don’t remember resenting our teachers.

I remember it as being relatively fair, if such a thing can have that consideration.

One thing we were always aware of was how strict a teacher was, particularly if it was end of year and we were going into a new grade. That was always a concern.

I do know it had an awful and lasting effect on many people.

From my own speaking with friends and acquaintances, here are some real life anecdotes.

  • I know that at another secondary school a friend of mine called a teacher ‘strap happy’ meaning he used his strap a lot. The woodwork teacher. The implication was that he over used it. He was resented for that. It had a lasting effect.

  • Another friend in grade 6 said he was strapped unfairly and he got more than one stroke. He hated the teacher as a result.

  • A person I knew said he went to a religious based school. He commented that the brothers (teachers) thought a leather strap made the students smarter. He had a lot of resentment. He also had some significant drug and learning problems. The effect on him was awful.

  • A BDSM mistress commented to me that some of her clients can’t abide the cane. It reminds them of bad times at school. It affected them so badly.

  • Some younger Asian girls I met casually mentioned that they were caned at school if they did poorly or played up. Same at home by their mothers. This was relatively recent also.

  • I remember some of the boys in grade 5 had a need to play up and didn’t care one little bit if they got the cuts. It didn’t affect them in the least.

  • I hated getting the cuts. I avoided it. I tried to be an excellent student. It was the walk of shame that affected me the most – every eye on me.

Were There Lasting Effects?

For me, it was something that just was. There was nothing unusual about it, it was part of school life and everyone accepted it.

For others, they were badly affected and for life I believe. Truly, this is something that for some children left lasting and terrible legacy and hence it is right and proper that it has been banned in schools for many years.

Any search of the internet will expose disturbing stories of criminal level abuse of children.

Now, after much reflection about this for much of my life I don’t consider myself abused, damaged, traumatized by corporal punishment at school.

I do know it affected me. I can’t normally talk about it as I find the whole thing deeply personal. Exposing this on the internet is far easier. Even in pre-session discussions with mistresses, it takes effort to say what I need and hand strapping is one of the more difficult things to discuss.

What About My Pro-Dom Sessions?

Now, over 50 years later, hand strapping is something that I get in a BDSM session from a mistress. In the pre-session discussion we talk about what I have in mind and a hand strapping at the start, in the middle, then at the end of the session is what I usually ask for.

In the pre-session discussion, I find talking to the mistress about hand strapping the most difficult.

In session, time and again, the mistress commands me to hold out my hand (just like at school) then she gives me the cuts but there are many differences (improvements?).

A follow up post will document my pro-dom hand strapping and tawsing sessions plus discuss the whys and hows of it all.

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Welcome to 2020

Welcome to 2020

A New Year - A Great year Coming

So, 2019 was a year that saw me define many things.

For example, this website and blog became much more important to me as I grew more comfortable with my inner feelings. Just writing these blog entries and exposing them to the internet has been a cathartic healing process.

Getting on top of emotions and their baggage, trying to see a way forward and gain comfort from acceptance is not easy. Writing it down helps.

So where am I heading in 2020 and what about SilentQuivers?

  • I would like to see the tone of my writing change from one of angst to one of graceful acceptance. I won’t go back and edit old posts so that any progression should be exposed.
  • I want to learn 2 new things in 2020. I can’t expose what they are, but they will be peripheral to my work-life and hobbies. I want to generate new interests in my life, expand, grow mentally.
  • Write more. Expose more of my writing in my blog.
  • My health has not been great. I shall make 2020 the year this turns around.

But Most Important of All

To myself and to everyone I wish the blessing of good health, good friends, good loving and a good life.

As I get older, these become more and more important.

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Best Wishes – Peace To All

Seasons Greetings

Snowman

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?

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Tears Before Christmas

Tears Before Christmas

Tears

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

Relax

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

 

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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.

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Letter To Voldemort

Open Letter To Voldemort

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.

Signed,

You know who I am.

Probably one among many.