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

  A few seconds later, he started putting his belt back through the loops and placed his hat on his head. I was glad he was leaving now that the procedure was over.

  “Thank you, Mr. Hendricks, for giving me my treatment.”

  Chapter Four

  When Uncle John and Aunt Milly returned home from vacation, he had me to show him my butt. I guess he didn’t fully trust Mr. Hendricks. When he saw the marks the belt had left, he was angry. There wasn’t much he could do, however. If he confronted the old man and made him mad, he might tell someone about our therapy sessions. Uncle John did say that would be the last time he let the old man take care of me. A couple of days later, he told me he had been giving some thought to my spankings and he supposed to some extent, Mr. Hendricks had been justified in what he’d done. In fact, he, himself, needed to start spanking me a little harder. After all, if one is going to be spanked, they should feel as if they are being disciplined. He did start spanking me a little harder, but not much.

  I had a boyfriend named Tommy while I was going to high school. Like any boy, Tommy made his share of advances. Tommy didn’t know it, but I had a better than most reason for resisting his advances. I often wondered what he would say if he knew my uncle literally saw my pussy once a week and he, Tommy, had never seen it. I know what I would have done: I would have died.

  I didn’t know it then, but I now doubt Uncle John could have seen from the outside whether my hymen had been torn. No more than he opened it to clean me up would not have given him that insight. Of course, as naïve as I was, I was afraid he might be able to tell from the outside.

  There were several times I was out with Tommy on my treatment nights. Uncle John never tried to restrict my dates, but once I was home, we would begin my therapy. Sometimes, he had to stay up past his bedtime. Uncle John didn’t seem to mind. I supposed he loved me that much.

  On those nights, I often wondered what Tommy would think if he knew that fifteen minutes after he brought me home, I would be lying completely naked with my legs as well as my pussy spread open. Or what he would have thought had he known the very same breasts that not only he, but every boy at school was fascinated with were completely exposed to my uncle. That was not even to mention the thing buzzing up my butt. I would have enjoyed nothing better than having Tommy watch as I underwent my therapy, but I knew that fantasy could never be.

  As time rolled around for my aunt and uncle to be out of town again, my uncle consulted with what he called a professional to give me my therapy in his absence.

  The man he consulted owned what I have since learned is called a BDSM dungeon. I still can’t remember what that stands for. Anyway, Uncle John explained that the man dealt with different things women needed on a regular basics. There would be no problem with him as there had been with Mr. Hendricks. I never told Uncle John that Mr. Hendricks had put his finger in me or that he rubbed my clit.

  Since the man would need to know how to administer my therapy, Uncle John decided he and I should go the previous week and let the man familiarize himself with the process. The following Saturday Uncle John and I drove out Blue Diamond Road and turned onto a street leading to an upscale neighborhood. These houses were much nicer than ours. When we located the place in question, I couldn’t believe this was it. I had expected some rundown home where I would be taken to a garage or an extra bedroom.

  The man who I would guess to be in his thirties was named Gordon Lowell. He invited us in and led us to his kitchen area where we took seats on stools at a breakfast bar. Uncle John set the gadget on the floor alongside his stool. Gordon asked how old I was once we had taken a seat. Before I could answer, Uncle John said, “Eighteen.” I was about to correct him when I realized he had intentional misstated my age. I imagined this man didn’t cater to women under the age of maturity. After all, some people, not understanding my therapy was strictly for health purposes, might see it as something else. There was just no understanding those kinds of folks.

  I’m sure Uncle John had already made Gordon aware of what we needed over the phone, but Gordon want to clear up some details. He was a nice-looking man and I was looking forward to him administering my session. I hoped he didn’t decide not to after he knew the dynamics that were involved.

  Uncle John set the gadget on the bar along with a probe. “This has to be inserted into her rectum,” Uncle John began. “I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

  Gordon shook his head. “Oh no, I deal with something anal almost every day.” He chuckled and added, “I wear gloves.” He flexed his fingers as if he had just put on a pair.

  After Uncle John had explained the procedure, not forgetting to pat himself on his own back for being the inventor, he explained about my spanking.

  “Well, I’ve never did the other, but you’ve come to the right place for a spanking,” Gordon informed him. “Let’s move down to my dungeon.”

  When Gordon said dungeon, he hadn’t exaggerated. It was a dungeon. It was big. At that time I didn’t know that people used these kind of places for different types of sexual gratification. I had always thought of a dungeon in terms of medieval times and castles with a place for keeping prisoners.

  “You said she takes the spanking before receiving the treatments?”

  “Yes, she does. Also, I’d like you to decide what kind of spanking she’ll get and how she’ll take it.”

  Gordon looked at me. “What about you, young lady. Do you have a preference?”

  “No, sir.”

  If I had to choose, I like turning my butt up. I also enjoy being turned a hundred and eight degrees and on my back with my legs raised, but I usually get enough lying on my back before me therapy is completed.

  “Ok,” Gordon motioned us to follow him to an object that looked a little like a large doghouse built in a triangular shape. “This is called a horse. It is the most popular piece of equipment in the place. Almost all the ladies like to “ride” the horse.”

  “I think I’d like to also,” I timidly stated. I was just a little nervous. This would only be the second time someone other than my uncle had taken care of me.

  “Well, I only have one rule: you have to be naked to ride the horse.”

  “Oh, she always naked when we do this. Baby Doll, go ahead and take your clothes off.”

  “If you like, there’s some hangers over there against the wall. You can hang your clothes there.”

  A few minutes later I was naked and standing alongside the horse. Gordon helped me to mount. He patted the top of the horse, about where the withers of a real horse would be. “Lay your head here.”

  I did and found that my head was lower than my knees, placing my naked ass higher than it had ever been. I got an extra tingle when Gordon took my left breast and aligned it to hang directly down rather than under my chest and pressed against the top of the horse. He went to the other side and arrange my right breast in the same manner. After doing that he placed a large strap of some type across my lower back. I didn’t see exactly what it was, but it was snug enough so that I wouldn’t be able to move about or to get off unless someone released me. The next worry I had was how hard he would spank me.

  He helped me relax a little when he placed a hand on my butt and rubbed it a couple of times. He let a finger slip inside my crevice and tickle my butthole. “I’m going to use a ping-pong paddle on her since that is my favorited. It’ll sting, but it won’t do any damage. We’re going to do something you might not have done before, Ginger. You know, I’ve got another lady named Ginger. She likes spanking too. What we’re going to do is count. When I spank you, I want you to count the number of the lick.”

  If I had ever wondered how anyone could make this even more humiliating, I’d just learned. Count my own licks? That was more humiliating than being spanked naked.

  “Now, I’m going to give her twenty swats—if that’s alright with you, sir,” I heard Gordon say, directing the comment to Uncle John.

  “That should be good,” I heard my
uncle say. He had increase the intensity of my spanking a little more since Mr. Hendrik had striped my butt with a belt. Recently, the swats had gotten to where they hurt somewhat. I guess Uncle John wanted me to get used to harder spanking in case someone taking care of me in the future chose to deal me one harder than normal.

  “Ok, Ginger, don’t forget to count. Every time you forget to count, that lick won’t count. Understand?”

  I nodded my head as it lay on the leather covering the horse. This is so embarrassing. I was almost a grown woman. I shouldn’t have to count while someone spanked me.

  Gordon’s licks weren’t that hard, but they did sting somewhat. As I mentioned, I was somewhat prepared because Uncle John had been spanking me a little harder.

  The licks not only warmed my bottom, but made my pussy feel hot. I felt like I needed it rubbed. Since I was turned up in such a wanton manner, it was right there to be dealt with. I was hoping Gordon would at least touch me. On the other hand, I didn’t know what Uncle John would say, this being the first time he’d ever watched someone spank me. I guess I could tell him I felt it should always be rubbed during my therapy because Mr. Hendriks had rubbed it.

  I knew Uncle John would never touch me in that manner, but at least he had been kind enough to swipe it with a Kleenex during the actual treatment. Although there was nothing inappropriate there, at least in the process he usual touched my clit a few times. That helped. He had never wiped away my wetness during a spanking and probably didn’t see the need.

  I wanted to ask Uncle John if it looked as if I was wet enough to need a Kleenex, but I couldn’t do that and count at the same time. Then, after ten licks, Gordon stopped. I used that opportunity. “Uncle John, I feel awful wet. Don’t you need to dry me with a Kleenex?”

  Behind me, I heard my uncle step forward. He placed a hand on my right buttock. “My, her bottom is warm. I’ve never spanked her quite this hard, but I think this will be good for her. You might want to give her one just a little harder next week. The spankings are all part of her therapy and so far, she is doing excellent.”

  I dreaded the thought of taking another spanking even harder than this next week, more so due to having to count. That was so humiliating, especially for a girl my age. But if Uncle John thought I needed it, I supposed I needed it.

  Redirecting his voice to me, Uncle John said, “Yes, Baby Doll, you are wet. If this nice gentleman will stop for a moment, I’ll dry you off. I’ve got my Kleenexes right here.

  A few minutes later, my pussy dry and my butt still stinging, Gordon continued my spanking. I almost forgot to count on the eleventh stroke when we resumed.

  Once it was over, Gordon unbuckled the wide leather strap across my back and help me down. He took my hand and led me across the room to an old examination table like gynecologists used. The way it was built, it should work well for my treatment. I would be spread wider than I normally was and the probe should go in much easier.

  Once I was situated on the table, Gordon pulled up a little rolling stool. He found something like a small end-table for Uncle John to set the gadget. Sitting on the stool, he placed a hand on either side of my hips and scooted me down so my bottom overhung the table a few inches. In this positon, I wouldn’t have to lift my legs.

  Uncle John instructed Gordon how to connect the probe and reminded him my anus need to be well lubricated. Also, it didn’t hurt to put a little on the end of the probe. He also said once it was inserted, he’d show him how to manipulate the box.

  A few minutes later, this had been accomplished and everyone, including myself, were simply waiting. Gordon sat at my feet with his arms crossed while a slight buzzing could be heard coming from the box.

  “Sir, what it that over there?” Uncle John asked Gordon. He pointed across the large, darkened room. “Where the ropes are hanging?”

  “That’s a suspension unit.”

  “What’s it for.”

  “To suspend people.”

  “Really. You do that?”

  “I’ve suspended two or three ladies, not many. I suspended them by their feet. The legs are a lot stronger than the arms. I don’t do any of the hardcore stuff. We have a party here every Saturday. Sometimes some of the hardcore people will suspend someone in such a way that I’m sure is painful.”

  “Why do you suspend them?”

  “Because they like it and I usually spank or flog them while they’re in that position.”

  Uncle John glance once more toward the suspension unit and moved over to pat me on a naked thigh. “You know what, Baby Doll. That might help you in your yoga. That would really stretch your legs.”

  I had been practicing yoga for the last several months. More so the positon they call the Yoga Nidrasana pose. In that positon, one places their feet behind their head. Not giving it a lot of thought, I agreed. Nothing else was said on the subject. Before long my therapy was over, but I would be coming back next week.

  Chapter Five

  I suppose I should take time here to finish telling about my encounter with Susan Sims. Anyway, Susan spanked me a while and then rubbed my pussy, and then spanked me some more. She only spread my cheeks that one time. After all, women, even women that might not be totally straight, aren’t interested in another woman’s butthole. There’s nothing they can do with it. A man can, and some often do, therefore leaving them with a greater tendency to separate my buttocks and observe that litter pucker between them.

  Once my spanking was over, as always, I lay on the floor and on my back. I didn’t spread my legs for Susan as I usually did for a man. She didn’t seem to mind. I might mention that once I was married and no longer a virgin, Uncle John would often insert the probe into my vagina rather than my rectum. I now had nothing which could be disturbed by doing so. Uncle John always left it up to whoever might be giving my therapy where they inserted the probe. Most of them still put it up my butt rather than hold it in place for twenty minutes. I told Susan it needed to be put in my vagina. Since this was humiliating, having someone of the same sex preform this, I felt less embarrassed with it in my vagina. Whether she had been told different, I never knew. She inserted it in my vagina and accepted the fact she would have to hold it in place.

  As I mention before, while I was still in high school I started practicing yoga, and I became quite adept at the Yoga Nidrasana pose. In this position, my feet were placed behind my head and underneath my arms. Not only were my legs out of the way, but due to simple anatomy, my back was significantly bowed and this forced my butt almost two feet above whatever I happen to be lying on. My butthole and pussy were stretch open and pointed almost directly upward.

  I practiced this until I had perfected it more so to surprise Uncle John. The first time I tried it was shortly before he was to begin a treatment. Going to my bedroom while he went to the clinic for the equipment, I was nude and on my bed in this positon when he entered. One can only imagine his surprise. Although he had seen me practicing and possibly in the pose, this was the first time I had done it naked. One can use their imagination to visual a well-build naked woman in this position. It also presented my C-cup boobs quite nicely as well.

  Uncle John loved this positon. He wasn’t in the room more than a minute before I notice the bulge in his pants. He liked it so well that until this day I often use this position when Uncle John or any of the numerous others are taking care of me. It positons me well for whatever they need to do to me. That includes my spanking and inserting the probe into whatever orifice they choose.

  It goes without saying I didn’t assume this position for Susan.

  To remove myself from the here and now, I closed my eyes and covered them with my arm. Had thing been different, I would be enjoying this rather than trying to distant myself. I had just put myself on some other plane when I felt something damp and warm near my clit. Opening my eyes and raising my head, Susan’s lips were touching my labia. She was kissing my pussy. Without saying a word, I held my head up and watched her. After kis
sing it several times, she forced her tongue between the lips of my labia starting just above the probe and up to my clit. This sensation in addition to the vibration was almost too much.

  Occasionally, her eyes would cut upward to lock with mind. I imagined she was looking to see if there would be any objection forthcoming. Even had I wanted to object, the words would have failed me.

  “Take the probe out, Susan.”

  With the probe removed, she placed her tongue where it had previously been, pushing it in and out of her mouth. I continued to watch. After several minutes, I started to manipulate my breasts, pressing the nipples between my fingers. A few minutes later, I could feel something rising up inside of me. I was about to climax. Hoping Susan wouldn’t stop until I was over the mountain, I lay my head back and let myself go. Although she was panting, she didn’t stop until I had ceased quivering.

  “Please don’t tell anyone about this, Ginger. I’m not a lesbian. I just lost control of myself for a minute. Please don’t tell anyone.”

  I saw the opportunity in that moment to remove all the humiliation I had felt. This simply could not have worked better. “Susan, I’ll make you a deal, if you promise to never tell anyone about my therapy, I promise I’ll never tell anyone about what you did.”

  I have not seen or heard from Susan since.

  A week after my first visit to the dungeon, I returned. Driving my aunt and uncle’s older car, the one they left while they were gone, I had to park alongside another car in Gordon’s driveway. I hoped whoever the car belonged to was leaving. At the least, I hoped they would not be in the dungeon while Gordon administered my therapy session. It had been embarrassing enough last week having to count each time he swatted me with the paddle. To have someone I didn’t know witness this would be too much.

  Nonetheless, once Gordon opened the door and invited me back to the breakfast bar, there was someone there and he didn’t appear preparing to leave. This man was short and fat, but he did have a pleasant face. Even if he stayed, surely, he would not follow us downstairs.