by John Rivers
She then removed a pair of thong panties. Once nude from the waist down, except for stocking, she removed her blouse and bra. She had very nice breast that only sagged minutely without support. Once she was naked, she stepped back into the high heels.
From another pocket, John removed a small chain about a foot and a half in length. There were two small nipple clamps on each end. I’d seen pictures of these things before so I wasn’t all that surprised. In fact, if I looked hard enough, I might find some in the dungeon. They certainly looked appropriate for this situation. Marsha grimaced slightly as John clamped each nipple. I supposed there were varying degrees of tightness. These didn’t appear very tight. Just enough to stimulate the breast.
“Okay, pussy cat, I want you to crawl around on your knees and show everyone your asshole. That includes my friend over here.”
It would seem this would be the humiliation portion of her session.
After the woman had made a full circle crawling on the carpet, John pulled on the lease to guide her toward the opening leaving the room. “Let’s come over here where everybody can see you. Now, I want you to reach behind you and spread your cheeks so you can show us your asshole really good.” He gave her a sound smack on her ass. I glanced at the husband. He was smiling. I was getting an erection.
The beautiful woman turned her face toward me as she lay her head on the carpet. I smiled at her. She smiled back. Reaching behind her, she spread her buttocks as she had been instructed. Not only did she have a nice ass, she had a nice asshole. In fact, she looked as if she might have had an “anal bleaching.” I’m sure she was rich enough to afford such a procedure, which in my opinion was worthless unless the woman intended to expose that area more so than most.
John had her retain this pose longer than I would have thought was comfortable. I must admit her asshole was as nice as the younger lady’s I had worked with yesterday.
“Ok, now. I want you to lay on your back. Bring up and spread your legs so we can get a good look at your pussy,” John instructed the woman.
She did as she was told. It was very evident she was wet. I had a full erection by now.
After the woman had lain in this most humiliating of positons for a good five minutes, John said, “Ok, Pussy Cat, you can get up now. We’re going to the dungeon.”
I had something to say. “Why don’t you have her remove her shoes while going down the stairs, John.” I certainly didn’t want her falling before her session even started.
“What size do you want?” I asked. John had sent me to the cabinet to get a butt plug. I glanced over to where he had positioned the blonde on her back directly beneath the hoist. He had dropped to one knee and now held up both her legs with one hand as if changing a baby’s diaper. With the other hand, he was applying lubrication to her anus. The husband was leaning against the cross taking in all this.
“About an inch and a half in diameter ought to do it. We can always use a larger one later.”
I found one about that size and went back to give it to him.
“You mind holding up her left leg?”
I didn’t mind. I dropped to one knee and held up the opposite leg. Holding the right leg in one hand and the butt plug in the other, John had just the tip inside her butthole when he thought of something. He paused what he was doing.
“This reminds me of something else I was going to forewarn you about. Never, ever stick a dildo without a base up somebody’s butt. It all right to use a dildo on a pussy, but never on a butthole. If it slips and gets pass the sphincter, you got a trip to the emergency room. Always use one with a base or a butt plug on a butt.”
“I got it. Butt plug on a butt,” I repeated as I watched him resume inserting the device into the woman’s rectum. I then helped him strap her ankles to the bar. Once we had that done, he began pulling the looped end of the chain through the pulley. In a couple of minutes, he had her suspended so as her head was about three feet off the floor.
I stepped back and leaned against the opposite side of the cross from the husband.
“Put your arms behind your back,” John instructed the woman.
Once she had crossed both arms behind her, John tied them with a short piece of rope.
“Please don’t whip me a hard as you did last time,” the blond-haired woman said in a voice that sounded strained. That was no doubt due to the fact she was upside down. I also doubted that was the most comfortable position in which one could find themselves.
John walked beyond me to where the larger whips were secured to the wall. He selected a multiple stranded device about four feet long.
Damn, I thought, he intends to inflict some pain.
Moving back within striking distance, he snapped the whip smartly across the woman’s buttocks.
“Oh, oh, please, please, not so hard,” she cried. She didn’t sound as if she was pretending.
John seemed not to notice. Again, he slashed across the woman’s naked butt.
She screamed.
John stopped and turned to me. “Gordon, Burton kept several ball gags in the top left drawer of the desk. Would you mind getting me one?”
I glanced from John’s face to the woman’s. She was crying. “Please, please,” she begged.
I guess it was the little bit of devil in me that made me do it, but I only hesitated a moment before heading to the desk. Like John had said, there were several gags in the drawer. Not only was there the ball type, but some had a metal ring where otherwise there might have been a ball. I chose one of these.
I got caught up in the activity. Going back to where the woman hung and John stood, I asked, “Did they sign a consent form?” Saturday night John had informed me about consent forms. He said there should be some upstairs in Burt’s office. So far, I hadn’t looked. Neither had I asked any of my clients to sign one. Big mistake. I’d start doing that with my next client.
“They certainly did. I’d never think of striking someone without a form. Look, you’ll get used to it. If you stay in the business, you’ll see this again. If you don’t hurt them a little, they don’t enjoy it as much. How about holding her head while I get the gag in place?
I glanced over to where the husband was leaning against the cross. He hadn’t made a move. Seeing no reason not to do as asked, I held her head as John forced the gag into her mouth. Her eyes had become wide with a frightened look. I told myself this beating was no doubt going to hurt, but she would be alright once it was over. This was what the D stood for in BDSM. Discipline. This woman was being disciplined and it needed to be completed.
I stepped back out of the way and watched as John slashed across her buttocks for the third time. She started thrashing about, curling her body upward.
John stopped. He lay the whip on the floor and placed a hand on each side of her head. “Marsha, you remember last time how you got to cutting up and wouldn’t be still and I had to put a real large plug up your butt? Do you want me to have to do that again?”
She moved her head from side to side.
“Ok, Marsha, I’m going to give you three more lashes. If you’re a good girl, I won’t use the big plug.”
It would be impossible for anyone to suffer a stroke from that whip without reacting. Marsha was no exception. John lashed her again and Marsha went into a frenzy. John turned to me. “Gordon, will you bring me a three-inch plug?”
Without giving it a lot of thought, I went back to the cabinet and found what, in my estimation, was a three inch-butt plug. I doubted the woman’s tight little asshole was going to tolerate this, but I guess we’d find out. I had come to learn that butt plugs played a large role in the BDSM game. Not only could they be painful, but what could be more humiliating?
“I’m going to need you to help me,” John said. “I’m going to hold her still and I want you to take out the other one and put in this one.”
“John, I don’t think this is going to go.”
“It will. It might take a while, but it will.”
Nonetheless, as John held her still, I placed one hand on a buttock and spread it enough to get my fingertips under the base of the old plug. With a slow, but steady pull, I removed the smaller device from her rectum. Reaching into my pocket, I took the larger one and placed the tip against Marsha’s anus. This ain’t gonna work, I told myself. Not only was the thing too big, but Marsha refused to loosen her sphincter. As she held sphincter firmly closed I could almost visualize John Candy in National Lampoon’s Vacation; “Sorry folks, this butthole is closed.”
“John, I don’t mean to interfere in your scene, but why don’t you give her the other two lashes without anything in her butt? We’re on the verge of seriously hurting her.”
John must have given that some thought. After a moment, he agreed. “Step back,” he said. “We’ll finish this part.”
I did as I was instructed. I certainly didn’t want to get struck with that damn thing.
Lowering Marsha to the floor, John informed her she was going to ride the horse. However, we were going to take a break. While Marsha mounted the horse, John went to the cabinet and took out a container of something. Going to the horse where Marsha’s striped butt was pointed upward, he first spread her cheeks. I assume he was making sure there was no damage to her anal area. Apparently there wasn’t. He then liberally applied the lotion of some type to any area that had been struck. Once he had done so, he patted her upturned rear and said, “You done good, Marsha. You’re a good girl.” She nodded her head in acknowledgement.
To add to Marsha’s humiliation, as if that was possible, John asked me if I would mind spanking her while she rode the horse. I didn’t mind. Having a little mercy, I merely gave her a hand spanking. While I spanked her, I also rubbed her clit. I think she appreciated that.
John had one more punishment for Marsha. After I was through with her on the horse, he led her to the table with the upright post. He strapped her spread legs to the post and instructed her to scoot down so her butt was partially over the edge of the table. After the three of us admired her for a few moments, John retrieved my Ping-Pong paddle. He gave her what I would call a rather good spanking. At least her butt was red. Most of the stripes from earlier had started to fade. She had had an excellent session. Her butt as well as her butthole would be a little sore tomorrow, but that wouldn’t last long.
Chapter Ten
The next two days were almost uneventful comparably speaking. They were almost normal if one could call spanking naked women and doing various other things to them normal. The next morning I spanked a woman of about thirty. She was a first-time client from out of town and had somehow heard of the service. It appeared she was in town on business
I supposed before going down to the dungeon, she had expected to be placed on a table or something similar. It was understood that she would be spanked in a kneeling position and I would insert a dildo in her vagina while she was being spanked. I didn’t see where I would have any great problem since I usually spank with only one hand.
After the session the day before I asked John if he had any idea whether Burt had had nipple clamps and if so, where did he keep them? Pulling from his pocket the set he had minutes before removed from Marsha’s breasts, he presented them to me. “I’m not sure, but use these until you find them or get some, mi amigo. You need to keep some of these on hand. You should use them often. They’ll get you repeat business.”
I assured him I intended to.
After the present lady had removed her clothes, I decided, with her permission of course, to use the clamps on her. She liked them. In fact, she said she intended to tell her husband to get some. I suppose I might make a note here that so far it seemed a lot of clients were married. They didn’t consider being here an act of cheating on their husbands. They were simply enjoying a pleasure they likely couldn’t get at home. The fact they were being attended by a stranger offered a certain thrill of its own.
I had intended to take her to the table with the upright posts. Rather than use the end with the posts, I would positon her on the opposite side. Since the table was padded and covered with what I had now determined to be vinyl, she should be comfortable on her knees. Being lower than a regular table, only about two and a half feet off the floor, it would give me easy access to everything I needed to access.
It didn’t work quite that way. At least not at first.
When she saw the “horse,” she was delighted. She asked if she could ride it. She likely didn’t know that was the term I also used for mounting the bench. I told her sure. She lost no time doing so. Once she was positioned with her head resting on the center of the padded area and her bottom turned up, I went to my desk and claimed a medium size dildo, a pair of gloves and the lubricant. I might not need the lubricant, but I intended to use it anyway.
To make a long story a little shorter, I placed my items atop the rear portion of the horse and pulled on the gloves. John had offered some advice on using gloves. Use them every time you remember and you’ll develop the habit! I had remembered this time.
I gave her pussy a thorough examination. I first spread the outer lips. Were these the “labia minor” or the “labia major?” I had forgotten. Anyway, I then used the thumb and forefinger of my left hand to spread the opening. It looked about right. Hell, they all looked about right to me. I lubricated the dildo and slowly inserted it. Once it was in place, I began to caress her buttocks. Shortly, I began moving the dildo in and out and commenced with the spanking.
It wasn’t long before she climaxed. In fact, I couldn’t recall ever seeing a woman climax that fast. I told her if she would like, we could wait a while and let her batteries recharges. She said sure, but this time she would like to handle the dildo. I think I hadn’t been able to move the device at the proper angle with her body touching the padded surface.
I told her I didn’t think that would be possible on the horse since it didn’t allow room to bring her hand back to hold the object. However, if she liked, we could go to that table where I pointed and use the flat surface. She agreed.
Once we were at the table, she sat on the end and I pulled up my little short stool. We sat there and chatted for several minutes. She told me about things totally unrelated to what we were doing such as how she had once hit a slot-machine for a thousand dollar, what a fabulous meal they had at the Bellagio and other nonsense. She was a nice lady and I would have enjoyed talking to her had she not been naked. When it seemed we had run out of conversation, I asked if she was ready to go again. She said she was.
“This time, I want you to lay your head flat on the table. I want you to arch your back and turn your butt just as high as it will go. I’m going to spank you a little harder this time. In fact, I’m going to use a little paddle. Are you ready?”
Once she was positioned, I went to retrieve my paddle.
I had another client call later that day. This one volunteered that she was an older woman. She could have been in her late forties or her late fifties judging from the sound of her voice. Since I had learned early in life not to ask a lady her age, I had decided to neither make any great effort trying to estimate it.
She informed me she was a regular client of Burt’s. Yes, she was aware that Burt had passed, but had been told that his young nephew was continuing the business and doing it quite well. It sounded as if she might have been talking to John.
Her name was Bell. I figured it was short for something else, but it seemed I had seen the name in the photo album. I made a mental note to go down and look once I was off the phone. She said she was working at the present and asked if it would be alright to come over a little after five. I said I didn’t see a problem with that. I didn’t voice the fact I preferred she go home and take a bath between work and coming here.
Hanging up the phone, I had just turned to head downstairs when my doorbell rang. Going to the door an
d peeping through the curtains, I saw it was my crazy neighbor from across the street. She had a large bowl this time. This woman is going to get me killed, I thought, but opened the door anyway.
“Look, I’m sorry, but I’m so horny. Can you fuck me again really quick like you did before?”
I wasn’t surprised. I knew what she was here for. I had always tried to make a habit of not fucking a married woman if their husband was within a thousand miles. If the spouse was that far away I could mark it up as a mercy fuck and feel good about myself later. But right across the street?
“Where is your husband?” Damn she was fast. She had already set the bowl on the coffee table, dropped her shorts, and was bending over.
“He’s at work.”
“How far away is that?”
“About ten miles.”
If it wasn’t for the fact I still had a partial erection from working with the nice lady that had just been here, I might not have moved that metaphorical distance bar. Well actually, I was now fully erect. I decided just this once I’d lower the bar to nine and a half miles. “Get down on your knees,” I instructed her. I had found that trying to stand was a little awkward with a partner this tall.
This time I didn’t bother with any rubbing or foreplay as I had before. I put it right to her. I wasn’t keeping time, but it seemed as if only a few minutes later, she was headed back across the street with her empty bowl. Talk about a flying fuck.
I suppose next time I needed to explain to her that I was a professional. Things like this was reserved for the paying customers. That was if her husband didn’t kill me first.
I cleaned up the little one-eyed monster and tucked him back where he should stay more often than he does. I resumed my trek to the dungeon. Pulling the photo album from the desk drawer and laying it on top, I began thumbing through the various pages. About half way through, I found the name I was looking for. Bell. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be two with the same name. One thing was evident, Bell was into being tied-up. There were various pictures of her in different poses of bondage.
