Pleasure Dungeon I,II,III Package: Whipped into Submission, The Naughty Lady Gets a Spanking, Ginger and the Gadget in Her Rear

by John Rivers

  Oh, please don’t, she begged silently into the ball gag.

  Tex’s companion walked to her front and placed his hand behind her neck. He steered her ninety-degrees to position her rear so Tex would have full access. He then separated her buttocks. A moment later, the nozzle was in her again. The outside of her anus was now raw. It burned. Before she could dwell on that, again her belly was full of water for the second time. Keeping his hand on her neck, the shorter cowboy again positioned her so her butt would be over the drain. Water exploded from her bowels.

  Lana had a couple of much smaller eruptions when she noticed the man from the office as well as John had move behind her and was talking to the ones dealing her so much misery. Tex had just hit her butt with a stream of water from the hose when she heard the man from the office say, “She running fairly clear now. It won’t be long. Let’s let her drain a while.”

  With that, all four stood behind her, watching. She had a couple more expulsions. They are literally watching me shit. For the second time, she marveled at the very idea.

  Five minutes later, after Tex washed down her butt one more time, the shorter cowboy approached and placed his hand behind her neck again. While she was still bent over, he turned her ninety-degrees. For the third time, she felt something enter her butthole. This time, she was not flooded with water.

  “Tails in, boss,” she heard Tex say to the older man.

  “I almost forgot to tell you two. Don’t use a whip on this one. She only here for today and her owner don’t want any marks on her back or butt.”

  Lana had to reason in this outlandish game, John was her owner. After all, she was a pony.

  Oh god, the butt plug was so uncomfortable in her ass. It irritated an area already irritated from the water and having to expel that water. She kept her legs spread as best she could while she followed the short cowboy to wherever he was leading her.

  Thankfully, they stopped just outside the barn. There she saw the three women hooked to carts. There was a fourth cart. That would be hers. Tex and the short cowboy each took a seat in the small carts and cracked a riding whip over the naked girls head. The girls moved, pulling the cart along with their passengers behind them. Lana noted that each of them also had a horse’s tail held in place by a butt plug.

  They found a nice shady as well as secluded spot behind a large cluster of boulder. Unless someone was also coming this same way, they’d never guess anyone was here. Thirty minutes earlier they had stopped and purchased a large tube of hydrocortisone at a crossroads grocery. John was now liberally applying that hydrocortisone on, as well as in, Lana’s raw and irritated butthole. This stuff would do wonders. If she continued to apply it frequently, in a couple of days she should be as good as new. Well, her butthole should be as good as new anyway.

  After they’d hooked her to the cart, still naked, she had pulled the old man around the property for a while. Since John hadn’t wanted to compound her misery, he had ridded a cart pulled by one of the other naked ladies.

  They had been brought back into the barn and each woman had had a saddle laid across her back. They had then crawled around on the straw for a while. None of this had even compared to the monster enema they had given her. She had to go again after they had removed the butt plug/horse’s tail.

  After the saddle bit, John had asked Lana if she was ready to call it a day. She had vigorously nodded affirmatively since she couldn’t speak with the gag. They had removed all her gear and pulled out the plug. She had then walked to the car nude.

  “I swear I didn’t know anything about the hose and the water bit. I suppose the other women I’ve brought up here were too embarrassed to tell me,” John assured her.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll survive even if my butt doesn’t.” Lana was on her knees with the injured area presented to John.”

  “We can wait until some other time to do the other thing,” John added. “I think you’ve had enough done to your butthole today.”

  “No, we’re not, buster. Keeping putting that stuff up me until I’m numb. Then stick you dick in and I’m gonna pulled it off with my sphincter. I want to show you just how good I am with my pucker string.”

  # # #

  Pleasure Dungeon III

  Ginger and the Gadget in Her Rear

  Chapter One

  It was cold today. There was nothing unusual there. It’s supposed to be cold even in this part of the world this time of year. The difference today was that a light sprinkling of snow was steadily falling. Nonetheless, it was toasty warm inside my car. I’d enjoy that as long as I could. Once I reached my destination mitigating factors would decide how warm I’d be. No matter how it went, I would at least be a little chilly. If Uncle John had built a nice fire in the fireplace and left the interior doors open, it wouldn’t be so bad. Uncle John was getting a few years on him and sometimes he forgot.

  With my wiper blades intermittently swishing away the light powder-like buildup of white stuff, I turned off the throughway and onto a busy street that led to my destination. As almost always, I was looking forward to my weekly visit with my uncle. In fact, I was a little wet in anticipation. Of course, I was always wet when I anticipated these meeting.

  I parked in front of his house and hurriedly ran to his front porch. I knocked on the door and waited for him to answer. After a couple of minutes with him not doing so, I knocked again. When there still was no answer, I stepped to a window, hoping there might be a separation in the curtains. Just as I was about to rap on the window pane, I heard a crunching of snow behind me. Turning, I saw it was Uncle John’s neighbor, Mr. Innis.

  “Hey Ginger. John took a last-minute notion to go fishing with Elbert. It’s not often he gets a chance to go to Lake Mead. You’ll have to come to my house this morning.” The old man stood with his hands in his pockets as the snow accumulated on his house coat. “Be careful and don’t slip on those steps.”

  Relieved of any worry about my uncle’s welfare, going to Mr. Innis’ would also break up my week to week routine. In addition, Mr. Innis handled me and my weekly sessions as well as, if not better than, anyone else. That included Uncle John.

  The old man was standing on his porch by the time I was halfway to his house, carefully picking my way through the snow so as not to slip. Once I mounted his steps, he opened the door and we went inside.

  Once I crossed the threshold, I could feel the welcome heat. This wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

  Once I was in his living room, Mr. Innis pointed toward his coffee table where a slender branch about three feet in length lay. “I didn’t know whether we’d need a switch, but I went ahead and cut one anyway.” Although I was now a grown woman, Mr. Innis would often have me cut my own switches. Not that he always switched me. I suppose today with the snow, he decided not to make me go outside to get one.

  I laughed. “I’m afraid we will this week, Mr. Innis. I did something I shouldn’t have done. Thank you for getting the switch.”

  As manager of a large retail outlet, it was nearly impossible to get through a week without committing some type of transgression. I always kept track of them so I could report to my uncle or one of his friends. In this case, it would be Mr. Innis.

  “Also, John told me you had a birthday this past week.”

  “Yes sir, I did. I turned twenty-five. Did Uncle John say anything about my birthday spanking?”

  “You’re not going to believe this, girl. I almost forgot. John told me to go ahead and give that to you while you were here.”

  I laughed. “You know Uncle John; he’ll also give me another one next week just to make sure.” I laid my coat in a chair and stood by the fire. I took this opportunity to get as warm as possible. It would be awhile before I would be this warm again. In a few minutes, I would be completely naked. Not only would I be naked, but I would be lying on my back with my legs drawn up and spread wide. My vagina would be prominently presented.

  It wasn’t that Uncle John or any of his
friends didn’t try to make me as warm and comfortable as possible, but I needed to be completely nude while he or any of the several others was preforming this procedure. Then, I preferred to be nude. Not only was therapy good for me, I enjoy knowing they had a view of my vagina, my breast as well as my anus. Mr. Innis might spread a blanket on top of the rug, but it would still be a little colder next to the floor.

  Feeling I was as warm as I was going to get, I began removing my clothing and laying them on a nearby chair. Shortly, I was naked. I asked Mr. Innis if he could spread a blanket on the rug.

  “I intend to do that, Ginger, but first I want to take care of the birthday spanking. I’m going to let you lie across my lap and I’ll use my hand. I’ll use the switch when I give you your punishment.”

  That was fine with me. I tried to remember how many times in the last few years Uncle John had not been home to administer my birthday spanking. Of course, Uncle John, being Uncle John, would always give me another one the following week despite one of his friends having given me one the week prior. I didn’t mind. Uncle John, being my uncle, always used his hand lightly and he strictly spanked. Unlike some of his friend who took care of me in his absence, he never checked my orifices. He felt being my uncle, that was something he shouldn’t do although my bare-butt would be turned up to him.

  As I not only figured he would do, but as I had hoped he would, the first thing Mr. Innis did was put his cold hand between my legs and checked my pussy. “Damn, girl, you’re wet.” What had he expected? After all, I’m a healthy twenty-five-year-old female.

  “Let me get some tissue and clean you up before it gets on my pants.” He leaned forward to retrieve the Kleenex from the coffee table. He had this thing about keeping me “cleaned up,” as he called it. Once he had given my birthday spanking, I would need to lie on the floor with my legs draw up and spread. I tried to always keep them spread as wide as possible, which left my pussy gaped open. I became wet very easily. Using his thumb and forefinger Mr. Innis would separate my labia and dry me with a Kleenex. He might do this several times during a procedure. Perhaps he hadn’t wanted anything on his blanket.

  After drying my pussy, he commenced to spank. It wasn’t a hard spanking, but it was harder than Uncle John might have given me. If my husband had not been out of town for the next several days, I might have been concerned with any marks on my butt. Mr. Innis would certainly have to go easy with the switch when he dealt me my punishment.

  The twenty-five swats he gave my ample and well-shaped butt might not have taken quite as long had he not stopped a few more times to check my vagina. One time, he stopped and spread my cheeks and brushed a fingertip across my butthole. I guess he wanted to see if it was puckering from the spanking. I’m sure it was.

  After the spanking was over, he helped me to my feet and stood himself. On his own old and wobbly legs, he traipsed off into another part of the house. A few moments later, he was back with a well-worn blanket. Spreading it over the fireplace rug, he told me to lie down.

  Once I was lying lengthways in front of the fire, had drew my legs up at the knees and let them loll to each side, presenting my spread pussy, Mr. Ennis retrieve the switch from the coffee table. Teasing me, he first tested it for limberness, swatting it against his pants leg and smiling.

  Everyone had his own way of spanking me. Uncle John would raise my legs so he could use his hand to swat each of my buttocks separately or have me on my knees to present my butt. He was always careful not to strike my vagina or the crevice between my buttocks. Other times he might lay me across his lap. That must make a funny sight, seeing as how I’m much taller than him.

  Another of Uncle John friends who took care of me in his absence had first made me get on my hands and knees and turn up my bottom. He too used his hand. Mr. Owen had always taken me out to his woodworking shop. That started the very first time Uncle John had asked him to handle my therapy. The reason being he was the only married man who administered my weekly visits. He preferred not to do this in the house where his wife would witness what he did to me. She basically knew what was going on, but as far as I know, she had never objected or told a soul. At least, I hoped not. I would certainly hate for anyone not in this circle of friends to know. Some people would see something wrong with the little sessions of degradation I subjected myself to once a week.

  There was another reason I was glad he didn’t do this in his house. At the time, I felt it would be humiliating to have another female witness the things done to me. Another male didn’t bother me, but rather added to my enjoyment.

  Having his own woodworking shop, Mr. Owen had built a spanking bench or a spanking “horse.” He told me he had built it just for me, but I suspected I wasn’t the only female to ever “ride” that horse. It’s possible that Mrs. Owen herself may had ridden it. That might be the reason she never mentioned anything about me.

  Anyway, I could go on and on describing how different people spanked me. In fact, some might even call what they did to me a whipping. But back to the present, what Mr. Innis intended to do would be along the lines of a whipping rather than a spanking.

  The way Mr. Innis spanked or whipped me was to put both my feet together and lift my legs much in the fashion of changing a baby’s diaper. He would then strike my buttocks with whatever implement he was using at the time.

  I myself didn’t know at what point my bottom would start to show sign of being struck. Over the years, I have received numerous spankings. A large portion of these had been administered by Uncle John while I still lived with him. His spankings were more love taps than anything else although they often stung just enough to feel good. I can only recall one of Uncle Johns friends leaving a mark on my behind and that had been accidental. Someday, I’d like to get a really good spanking just to see what the results would be, but that would have to wait.

  It had been the better portion of a year since this old man had handled me and I wondered if there wasn’t something I needed to remind him. I decided to do that before he struck my bottom the first time.

  “Mr. Innis, you do remember that I’m a married woman, don’t you? You know I can’t have any marks on my butt for my husband to see, right?”

  I honestly believe the old man had forgotten. He paused and looked down at me. “I remember,” he said, likely lying. “I’m just going to tap you real light unless you rather I didn’t do it at all.”

  “No, I need you to go ahead and spank me. If you don’t and Uncle John finds out about it, he’ll not only give me that spanking, but whatever I have coming next week.” I was lying myself, but I did feel that I needed to be spanked. I just didn’t want my butt marked. My husband knew nothing about my weekly adventures and I intended to keep it that way. He would never understand.

  The old man thought about that a minute. “You know, you never did tell me what you did to deserve a spanking. Tell me and we’ll discuss how many swats you need. I know it can’t be many.” He still held my legs up with one hand.

  “I fussed at an employee,” I allowed, making it simply with the first thing off the top of my head. “Uncle John would give me about five swats.”

  The old man curled his bottom lip and nodded in agreement. With that, still using one hand, he lifted my legs as high as they would go. In this positon, my pussy was closed, but the cheeks of my ass were spread, exposing my butthole. Damn, I hope he don’t hit me there by accident.

  Mr. Innis gave me five light taps and that concluded my spanking. At least I could tell Uncle John that I had indeed, received my punishment for this week.

  I need to empathize here that I love my Uncle John dearly despite the fact he spanks me to some extent every week. Some might find it hard to rationalize a twenty-five-year-old woman still being punished by an elderly uncle, but I suppose there are stranger things. Right now, it’s time to move on with my weekly routine. Mr. Innis has already brought in the little gadget and placed it on his coffee table.

  Chapter Two

 
This might be a good time to explain why I earlier mention how I would hate for another female to witness the things done to me every Saturday. I also stated at that time. I might be a little more amendable to the idea now than before. Not whole heartily, but some. Let me explain what brought about this slight change of heart.

  Several months back Uncle John had called and informed me that he was again going to be out of town the following Saturday. He had already arranged for me to be at Mr. Sims’ house for my session. This would only be my second occasion to meet Mr. Sims.

  As I headed for his house, I had no idea I was about to incur the most embarrassing moment of my life. Ringing his door bell, it was answered by a young woman about my own age. To compound my embarrassment, she looked familiar. To the best of my knowledge, Mr. Sims was divorced and lived by himself. I spit and sputtered a few moments before I managed to ask if Mr. Sims was home.

  “Hi, Ginger. Do you remember me, Susan Sims? We went to school together. No, Daddy had an emergency he had to take care of, but come on in.”

  I could have died. Although I have no problem wantonly turning my naked butt or my spread pussy up to the male friends Uncle John delegated to take care of me, I would have died from embarrassment had anyone outside this group, especially a female, known. Hoping and praying she didn’t know the reason for me being here, my mind raced to come up with an explanation for my presence. She still hadn’t asked.

  “I..I remember you, Susan,” I stammered as I stepped across the threshold. I still hadn’t come up with an explanation. I was scared she would ask before I could manufacture one.

  “Have a seat,” she pointed to the sofa.

  Feeling I couldn’t very well refuse, I took a seat.

  “Ginger, I noticed that you’re a little nervous. Don’t be. I hope you don’t mind, but Dad explained everything to me. He asked me to take care of you.”