by Sarah Veitch
'Ah - so you were going on to the post office in your lunch break to send off the merchandise,' Vincent muttered, staring in awe at the arousing toys. 'Now I understand!'
'Well, the main orders are despatched straight from the suppliers,' said Miss Kerr, 'but I send out demonstration models to each party-plan girl who is hosting her first party. And I send them replacements when the originals break.'
She pulled on the leash until he looked beseechingly up at her. 'You still have to be punished fully for going into my office after hours, little pup, so lie on your belly on the bed.' As she gave the order she unclipped the short lead but left the demeaning thick studded collar around his neck.
The mattress creaked a little as he got into place but supported his eleven stone weight without difficulty. Without asking, Vincent adjusted his frame until his stomach was resting on the stockpile of extra-plump pillows. They pushed his oval cheeks defencelessly in the air.
'I'm going to stripe your backside and then I'm going to train you in the art of self control even if it takes me all evening to do so,' his supervisor said.
Vincent turned his head around to watch as she walked smartly across the room. Her breasts and buttocks were neatly hugged by her well-cut black sheath dress. A gold-hoop style metal belt glinted at her waist, emphasising her firm bone structure. He hoped she wouldn't use that same belt on his white buttock flesh.
Miss Kerr leaned into the built-in wardrobe and brought out a crook-handled cane. Then she walked to the side of the bed. 'Bring that arse nearer.'
Hastily Vincent moved himself and the pillows in a desperate last ditch attempt to please. Last night's leathering had brought grimace-making pain to his proffered bottom. He dreaded to think how the rod would lick into his flesh.
'Beg sweetly for the first stroke,' his supervisor said.
Vincent closed his eyes and tightened his inner thighs and eyelids. 'I beg to taste the cane, Mistress.' The word Mistress had escaped unbidden from his lips.
'Beg more humbly or I'll triple your thrashing - and I already intend to deal with you very severely,' his thirty year old superior said.
Vincent searched his awestruck mind for suitable words. He so wanted to get in and stay in her good books. If only she could look on him with affection if not with love.
'I've... been disobedient. I deserve to pay. I'd be very grateful if you caned me without mercy,' he whispered with hard won obsequiousness.
'Oh don't worry, you won't be disappointed,' Miss Kerr said.
She bounced the rod against his haunches a few times, the light sure touch sharpening his tactile senses. Then, just as he was letting his belly sink deeper into the pillows, she laid the rod on for real.
'Ah!' Vincent brought his hands out from under his chin and reared up, clutching frenziedly at his bottom. He chafed at the singed thin tram-line as if his fingers were erasers and the redness drawn in pen.
'Get back into position this instant, boy,' his disciplinarian instructed in her matter of fact tone.
'But it stings like blazes,' Vincent muttered, looking around.
'Just like it stung my sense of security to have you snooping through my office after hours,' Alicia Kerr retorted staring at him coldly. She pointed to the uneven heap of pillows. 'Straighten them and then bend over again.'
Reluctantly Vincent presented his buttocks anew. He prayed that this time she'd be more lenient. He cast a sorry look round at his singly-striped backside.
The second lash fell neatly below the first. He was in the process of rising up when Alicia laid on a third cane mark. Vincent cried out again and turned quickly around and sat on his hands.
'It's too much,' he whimpered, fingers kneading his blazing ovals.
Alicia laughed and squared her shoulders back so that her full breasts jutted through the clingy black. She stared down at him for thirty full seconds then pointed to the cupboard which contained the marital aids.
'Crawl over there and bring me back a battery operated vibrator, boy.'
Carefully Vincent skulked to the side of the King Size then lowered himself on to the carpet and crawled to the lowest shelf. His eyes searched the many boxes until he found a battery-operated oscillator that he thought might suit. Maybe she wanted him to run it across her silken folds for her ultimate delectation. He'd be happy - nay, ecstatic - to oblige.
Crawling whilst holding the package might have dented the glossy wet-look box so Vincent carefully opened it and put the hinged cardboard lid in his mouth.
'Good dog. Bring it here,' Alicia said more warmly.
Vincent's heart swelled with newborn pride. He parted his lips and she took the container from him and removed the oblong toy.
'Now bend over the foot of the bed - but keep your hands on the back of your head at all times or you'll be very sorry,' she said.
'Yes, Mistress,' the twenty-three year old mumbled, determined not to put her patience to the test. He stood up and quickly bent, aware of how the thick mahogany bar curved into his belly and pushed his bum out. The position immediately put a strong pull on his calves. 'I don't think I can hold this position for long,' he admitted, staring down at the duvet and wondering if he was dreaming.
'You won't have to - you'll soon be back on the bed begging for the rest of your caning,' Alicia Kerr said.
He was aware of a low buzzing sound. Ah, she'd obviously switched on the vibrator. Vincent's legs tightened further with apprehension and anticipation as the rich resonance filled the air. He'd read about such machines, of course, about how much pleasure they gave the ladies, but he'd never actually seen one, far less tried it out.
Something nudged against his inner right thigh. The vibrations spread up. The sensation was exquisite. He groaned and tried to push his body downwards to increase his contact with the pleasure-source.
'Bad boy,' Alicia Kerr said huskily, moving the implement a little away from him. The unyielding bed frame held him in place.
'I won't wriggle any more, I swear, Mistress!' Vincent gasped out, keeping his hands obediently where he'd been told to. He wished that he could grab hold of the wonderful sensation-bringer, but to do so would further brook his Mistress's displeasure and would lead to an increasingly severe training time.
Alicia continued to taunt his inner thighs. Vincent moaned more loudly at the almost-almost-almost sensation.
'Please show your bad slave mercy,' he whimpered, hearing the grovelling tone in his uneven voice tone. 'Oh I beg you, please!'
'Please cane me, Mistress - isn't that what you meant to say?' his superior queried, moving the vibrator to a much more exquisite place.
She'd left the cane lying on the bed. Vincent stared at its pitiless length with renewed trepidation.
'Couldn't you use your belt on me like you did at the office?' he gasped.
Alicia Kerr moved the erotic machine further down, stealing away his much-craved source of satisfaction.
'I'd much prefer to see you flinch and howl under my cane.'
The inference was clear - he had to taste the rod or she'd never grant him the ultimate bodily bliss. 'I've... been a naughty boy. Please whip my bare bottom soundly, Mistress,' he stammered.
Alicia immediately switched off the appliance and put it to one side. 'Let's bend you over the ottoman for variety,' she said archly. 'Come here so that I can affix your collar to your lead.'
Vincent pushed himself back from the bed's firm bar and flexed his limbs then got down on all fours again. He crawled meekly over to her feet. She led him next door to a large semi-circular dressing room. The ottoman was of the same mahogany as the bed. 'Go over it lengthways so that the lid supports your entire body,' ordered Alicia. 'That way the blood won't rush to your head.'
It wasn't his head he was worried about. Vincent felt very sorry for his manhood which was rapidly deflating. She'd taken him close to Nirvana a moment ago - if only she'd allowed him to reach his zenith with the machine. He shivered with sensuous suspense just imagining the possibility.
If he pleased her would she take him to the very depths of his own wantonness?
'I'm obeying all of your orders, Mistress,' he mumbled shamefacedly as he lowered himself along the mahogany wood.
When his tummy and chest were safely supported he gripped the side of the ottoman. The position ensured that his legs were stretched out in the air at a downward angle with their weight resting on his inverted toes.
'Ask nicely for the cane, boy,' his work supervisor said, tapping the rattan against his oval cheeks.
Vincent told himself that he'd take his punishment like a man this time. 'Please redden me with the rod, Mistress, for illegally entering your premises.' He was congratulating himself on his obeisant tone when the rattan sliced into his naked flesh. 'Oh!' Vincent shouted the word and jerked his hips then realised that his position made protecting his rear very difficult. If he wanted to leave the ottoman he'd have to use all of his arm strength to lever himself up and back.
'But you told me that you wanted this, remember?' Alicia said smoothly and he felt her palm tracing the new sizzling line across his posterior.
'I want to...' Vincent gave himself up to the disinterested pleasure of her fingers then whimpered as she removed them. 'Yes, Mistress,' he said resignedly, 'please cane my cowardly little arse again.'
Miss Kerr obliged. This time she laid the rod across the centre of his expanse. Heat seemed to radiate through him. Vincent writhed across the mahogany trunk, moving his buttocks from side to side in a vain bid to shake off the pain. When he at last settled down he heard her say 'I'm waiting, boy.'
'I need... need a further dose of correction, Mistress,' he gasped out.
'Oh you do, don't you?' the iron-willed Miss Kerr said. Vincent quivered with new pleasure as her hands encircled his waist, gripping his ribs with erotic firmness. Then he tensed as she rearranged his naked body till it was fully central on the ottoman again. 'Can't have you wriggling to one side without permission, slave,' she said coolly, and he heard her picking up the cane and flexing it. 'That bottom needs to know just who's in charge.'
Vincent quivered as he waited for the rod to land. When it did it seared a line across his apprehensive extremities.
'Is that what they mean by line dancing?' Alicia Kerr asked coolly as he did a little hot-bottomed dance. Vincent groaned at the ongoing humiliation but felt a new deep servility start to grow within himself.
'I'm listening,' his raven-haired dominatrix said.
How he longed to cover her hands and feet with his kisses. But he had to do and say only what she wanted - she was clearly in command. 'I'm due a hot sore bottom, Mistress,' he snivelled into the ottoman lid.
'Louder or I'll have you howling like a coyote.'
Vincent repeated his request and felt another unfamiliar low submissive thrill.
'Just one more - at least for now,' the thirty year old said as she traced his bands of scarlet. 'I do like a near-uniform glow on a male slave's arse.'
She enlivened the crease just above his hirsute thighs. Vincent flattened his belly to the wood and groaned softly at the impact. He did his by now familiar jitterbug then belatedly straightened and thanked her nicely for the lash.
'Now I'll take the good dog to the cloakroom. There's a nice high peg that we can tether you to,' she said.
She exerted a slight pressure on his lead and Vincent carefully lifted himself from the ottoman then hunkered down upon the carpet. The cloakroom was downstairs and she was kind enough to let him walk the single flight. 'Down boy,' she said again when they reached the bottom, pointing at the carpet. Vincent hastened to return to his hands and knees.
His muscles tightened as he crawled behind her into a rectangular room. Miss Kerr pointed to a peg which was set much further up in the wall than the others. 'Grip that whilst you take your pleasure. If you let go even for an instant I'll immediately stop.'
She slid a flesh-shaped ring around his private parts, then she switched on a small white control box. Vincent almost swooned with pleasure as the vibrations thrilled through his most intimate flesh.
'Oh thank you, Mistress, thank you,' he whispered.
'Just remember to control your responses until I give you permission,' his rigorous goddess said.
'I'll be a good boy,' Vincent promised raggedly, then yodelled anew.
She was kind enough to leave the current on. Soon he shouted his rapture to the rooftops. Then she bid him to let go of the high peg and he prostrated himself deliriously at her feet.
'I want so much to please you,' he whispered submissively, licking and kissing her glossy black shoes.
Alicia leaned forward and stroked his hair for a moment then tilted his chin so that he was looking adoringly up into her large dark eyes.
'Obedient slaves deserve a reward,' she murmured mischievously, beginning to slide her dress up past her stocking tops. 'We'll have to see what we can do.'
A Pony Tale
'Who'll give me a hundred pounds for this healthy young slave?' As the bid rose to this three figure sum the outdoor crowd fell silent. The couple who had gigglingly bid eighty quid ruefully shook their heads.
'Yeah - I'll offer a hundred,' muttered a small man with sparse side-combed hair and a waxen complexion. Though she kept smiling, Magdalen nervously toed the wooden stage. She'd agreed to this charity stunt to raise money for Spain's many stray puppies. She didn't relish spending eight hours with this human stray!
'Going for a hundred pounds,' said the auctioneer. 'Going,' he continued steadfastly.
Magdalen parted her lips in mute appeal and stared pleadingly at the faces tilted towards her. She focused on a slightly-known sneer as Aaron Greaves, the owner of the Equestrian Club, stepped in front of the follically-challenged man. He held up a monogrammed cheque book cover in finest calfskin. 'I'll offer two hundred quid.'
Magdalen gasped. The auctioneer gasped. The crowd exclaimed and applauded and whistled. With funding like this, the Mediterranean Canine Rescue Depot would soon be underway.
The slave contract mock-solemnly signed and witnessed, Magdalen looked uncertainly into her new Master's assessing dark pupils. Aaron Greaves was thoughtfulness incarnate to horses and other animals, but she'd heard rumours that he soundly spanked his female staff.
'It's back to the stables with you, slave girl,' he said now, casting a thumb towards his sky-blue Daimler. Magdalen tugged at her tiny dress then tried to enter into the spirit of the game.
'Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir,' she whispered, peeking up at him through long black lashes. 'It's wonderfully hot, sir, isn't it?' she offered after the older man had been driving wordlessly for an intolerable time.
'Speak only when spoken to, slave,' the wealthy landowner murmured. The naturalist shifted uncomfortably on the softly upholstered seat. Looking down at her bust, she could see both nipples straining through her bra like rubber bullets, as if seeking an exit through the thin dark dress.
At last they reached the vast acres of stables and grazing land that Aaron Greaves owned and he parked the Daimler. 'Have you eaten?' he asked neutrally. Magdalen nodded. 'In that case,' he continued, 'let's set you straight to work.'
Thinking that she was to do household chores, Magdalen turned instinctively towards the large Edwardian mansion, but Aaron indicated she should walk through an arched doorway into a large gymkhana yard.
A lightweight chariot leaned against the nearest wall. Confused, Magdalen stared at the man who'd paid two hundred pounds for her. 'Let's get you bridled, sweetheart,' the Equestrian Club owner said casually.
'Bridled?' the twenty-three year old echoed, clasping her hands behind her back as if to keep them free of his clutches. Suddenly she felt even hotter than the strong August sun allowed.
Aaron Greaves looked at her till she awkwardly dropped her gaze. She sensed that his own stare continued. 'Just say "Yes, Master",' he replied.
Magdalen swayed and her vulva lengthened slightly with elation. His words both unnerved and aroused. 'I thought I'd jus
t be doing your cooking and cleaning,' she muttered, pawing at the dust with her calfskin mules.
'Housework is a waste of time and energy compared to a sun-kissed canter,' her new Master said.
It was certainly a magnificent day to spend outdoors. Magdalen looked more fully at the waiting slave chariot and Aaron smiled encouragingly. 'The cart connects to a leather harness belt. You'll need the equestrian trappings.' He walked towards a side door in order to fetch them and Magdalen used the hiatus to discover how she felt. The sensible part of her being shrank from parading around this arena pulling her temporary Master. The darker less rational side felt hugely alive and inflamed. Aaron Greaves was attractive in a distant and demanding sort of a way, and it had been some time since she'd felt sexually shaken and stirred.
She stiffened as he reappeared in the doorway carrying thick black straps and what looked like studded shiny briefs and black stilettos. The other garment he carried proved to be a studded open-nippled bra.
'Don't tell me - I put this cliched slut garb on then you order me to lie on my back and spread my legs,' Magdalen murmured cynically.
'I promise that I won't touch you sexually unless you beg for it,' Aaron Greaves said. He shrugged. 'I'm not forcing you into anything, angel. If you'd rather go home and forfeit the slave fee I've offered your pet charity then please just say.'
Magdalen thought of the Grecian and Spanish stray puppies that were completely relying on her. She thought of how disappointed the organisers would be if he cancelled his cheque. Then the naturalist imagined pulling her strict Master around in his chariot and felt another politically-incorrect but nevertheless powerful electric vulval thrill. 'Alright, but turn your back,' she murmured, 'whilst I strip and put this tartish bra and panties on.'
