Archive-name: Bondage/emilhous.txt Archive-author: Archive-title: Emily's House My initial introduction to severe spanking and domination happened at the hands of a guy named Ted, whom I met through one of the BBSs to which I belong. Ted is a bright, educated guy, an engineer by trade, and a dominant by choice. We had corresponded on that board for a long time before he finally came to town. When he announced that he would be here, I could think of no excuse at all to refuse meeting him. That the session ended up with me nude, face down but raised up over the end of the couch, my naked bottom turned towards the ceiling, my ankles pulled apart and tied to each leg of the couch-- in a perfect position to be instructed, that is what I expected in advance. In fact, I had made him promise that when he got me that he would absolutely not let me talk him out of giving me a spanking. I certainly did not have to worry about that, as it turned out. He took a long time admiring the view, probed here and there with his fingers, then found an erect nipple and pinched and pinched, until he made me tell him where the strop was. It was hanging on a hook on the inside of the door (you hear that, Ken? Remember it for future reference. You may well want to use it yourself.) He took the strop, gave it a few trial swings, and then, TTTHHHWWSWWACK!!!! A murderous, burning swipe across both cheeks of my rump... this followed after a long interval by another, and another. He quickly had me crying for mercy, for forgiveness. Did I get mercy? No. I got a hot oil injection, firmly squirted into my anus by a large, thick, rigid cock. And afterwards I was given the privelege to suck it clean. Comparing that session to the one I had at Emily"s house is difficult for me, because in a way they were so different. The first one, described above, I always felt in control even though my hands were fastened behind me. Any time I really wanted him to stop, I think he would have. At Emily's, she (Emily) was fully in control, and being another woman, had a better understanding of what I could take, and resolved, I am sure, to take me all the way there, and beyond. Now she did not wield the crop, Doris did. But she was in charge of the event, the mistress of ceremonies, so to speak- have no doubt about that. When I was invited (or ordered, if you prefer) there for a hen party and a dinner, I had no idea what was going to happen. Lets face it, she and I were no longer social friends, but I was in no position to refuse, so I duly showed up, suitably dressed for a social dinner with 8 or 9 women present. Early on, there was no obvious sign that this was going to be different from a thousand similar parties we both have been to. An elegant dinner was offered, beautifully prepared and served. Oh yes, Emily does do things correctly, even to the Nth degree. The conversation was lively and intelligent, ranging wide over every possible subject. Later on, however, the tone of the conversation changed, and Emily announced in words that I cannot really remember that this was a special occasion- that present was the person who had helped break up her marriage, etc, etc. Everybody chimed in at that point, and however it worked conversationally, I ended up nude ,with my wrists behind me, tied. Doris had a metal clip that winds through the hair and locks, and to it, a long cord attached that she tossed over a ceiling beam. There I stood, totally helpless, now very fearful of this particular event. I did not feel that I had any control at all over what would happen, and considering that Emily was still very angry at me, I foresaw real problems, and did not have the feeling that the other ladies present were going to be supportive in the least measure. It's almost funny- Hilde told me later that Emily had told the others that there was going to be "special entertainment" that evening- she had not told me that, but maybe that was because I was going to be the special entertainment. Who knows what the others were expecting- I am sure that nobody else knew, but I have an idea that Hilde, who really knows Emily the best, had a pretty good idea. What Doris knew in advance is hard to say. That one never says much anyway. Doris did her particular specialty after blindfolding me-- gentle, stimulating caresses of the nipples, guaranteed to arouse one and erect those nipples no matter how frightened and apprehensive you might be. And when they were suitably erect, a final pinch, and then those metal spring clips attached, first one and then the other. And soon enough, her searching finger between my legs, probes, finds moisture, finds an erecting clit, massages it so that it is standing fully at attention, and another clip attached to it-- all three together now applying a kind of hideous metallic caress that never stops. Try to understand- I was totally embarrassed, absolutely under Emily's control, and terrified, and at the same time, excited almost beyond belief, perhaps sexier than I have ever been, before or since. I now knew what to expect- I was going to get a total thrashing, specifically for the entertainment of the ladies present (who had been selected, I am sure for their potential enjoyment of that kind of thing). In the meantime, I have been incredibly aroused, and clips attached to my most vulnerable points. My nipples are up as hard as steel, and gripped in the unyielding clasp of the clips, and my clit also has been aroused and clipped. I am almost expecting that Emily will have Doris insert one of those special suppositories in my anus- the kind that makes you think you have a hot iron up there- like she had done to me before. No, not this time, though I do not know why not, and obviously I do not ask. And finally, I am incredibly aroused- almost at the point of orgasm- but I do not want to have that orgasm. No, not this way, in front of this audience (which obviously was very interested, and would have applauded wildly). Now Emily is seated comfortably, and asks me for my version of the relationship with her ex. I tell her the truth- that we had been together at a Christmas party, and he kissed me under the mistletoe, but nothing more- that day. " What about the next day", she inquires, and I confess that we had done some juvenile petting, with him maybe kissing my titties, and sliding his hand up under my skirt-- hardly enough for all this to-do right now. She gives the sign to Doris, and the crop flashes, whacking me severely across the rump, making me gasp, and making some unseen female titter. I dance, I shake, but I have nowhere to go. Again she asks, and I confess that later I had let him take my panties down. That day he gave my pussy a sweet kiss. At that I get a sweet kiss, too- by the crop, again across the rump. I am really fearful now, and crying, begging to be let go. Nobody will have any of that, and I get another slash with the crop for even asking. Emily is leading the confessional now- she wants to know what happened next- of course, she already knows, that that same day I had taken his cock into my mouth, but nothing more. I admit that, get another shot with the crop for it, and I am screaming, practically hysterical now, because I do not know how much farther this is going to go. I also do not know that there is a video camera set up, and I am going to be the star of the film that is being taken this very minute. Emily wants to know about his fucking me, and I swear that it never happened. Nobody believes me now, and the punishment continues, worse than I ever got before. My confession is extracted from me, and by now after a dozen or more stokes of that crop, I will confess to anything, and confess I do to seducing him every which way, to fucking for him vaginally, orally, anally, you name it- she asked me and I confessed to it. Almost as an after thought, she had me confess to putting her down in her husband's eye, to claim that she was a sexless thing and that real joy could only be had from a real woman (obviously like me). The ladies thought that this was the ultimate insult- this whore badmouthing Emily to him, a good, innocent wife. Innocent, hah!!!). Somebody suggests that my mouth be washed out with soap for that- and it is duly done, with a strong laundry soap. Doris fetched a bar, a large chunk was broken off and stuffed in my mouth for fun. Not much fun, believe me. Now think about Doris a moment- an attractive black lady, about 35-no education whatever. Will she be interested in playing executioner today? Of course. Perhaps it is a racial thing, or perhaps the result of unintended slights towards her on my part in the past which she has misinterpreted on a personal basis. Whichever, she would be delighted to give this delicious honky bitch a spanking. Is it in the culture? I have heard that give a black woman the chance to work over a blonde whore- especially one who has been fucking around with black men, and the thrashing will be earth shaking. She has worked for Emily for years as house maid, perhaps confidant, and if it turns out that Charles had been fucking her on the side, I wouldn't be a bit surprised. If it is also true that Doris had been servicing Emily in her own way- like giving her sweet massages and the like- I not only would not be surprised but am rather sure that this is so. I don't think that they had a total bi-relationship, but I don't know. Now understand the cropping. I am standing, my hair holding me upright. Doris is an artist with that crop, and she has me bobbing and dancing, kicking, even leaping, and certainly screaming. None of it makes a bit of difference- I am not going anywhere until I am released, and that will certainly not be until Emily is satisfied. And you do know Emily. She is little and she is cute, but she is very strong and determined, and she WILL have her pound of flesh in revenge. Step onto her patch only on her terms. Go beyond that, invade her privacy, take what is hers at your peril. This was the lesson being taught me, and perhaps being taught the ladies in the audience. She felt no compunction about giving a whore a thrashing, and I was- had I not already confessed it? And when I got the cropping that day- much more severe by the way, it was in part because she really did believe that I had been fucking her husband (and believes it to this day) and wanted my full confession. She got it, true or false. And when I had confessed- which was absolutely believed by the other ladies present, the consensus was that I was a slut who was getting what she deserved- a comeuppance that tramps deserve but rarely get. The fact that Emily had the pictures and I could not let them get out and therefore she owned me- they did not know that. All they knew was that this whoring slut, who had seduced Emily's husband plus who-knows-who else, who might be making an unknown play for the husband of any of the ladies present, she was getting a richly deserved lesson, written on her ass by a luscious black maid. The fact that I look the way I do and sometimes have a haughty air did not help. Take this slut down a peg or two-you know. The ladies watched every stroke approvingly, and nobody protested that the punishment exceeded the crime. Later, when either Emily or Doris asked if a volunteer might provide a chocolate eclair to be served as a special penance, they had no problem at all getting a volunteer to go to the bathroom and to produce one on one of Emily's fine china plates, to be sure. And who fed me that eclair, of course using one of Emily's sterling silver dessert spoons? Doris? Emily? The volunteer? I don't know. You asked how large was that eclair, and I respond that I don't really know. I remember it as being sufficiently large to do the task intended- to humiliate me totally in front of that audience- who likely would have applauded had it been twice as large. All I know is that it was large enough, that I was fed it all, and was in no position to debate the point- nor the tall glass of lemonade which was offered me to wash down my special treat. You might ask if any of the others were shocked at this. Well, they had seen it happen before their eyes, perhaps as a logical extension of this tramp being punished in Emily's particular way, and who would say that she was wrong? Certainly none of them would. All I know is that I had received a cropping- a cruelly efficient one given under the most exotic and erotic circumstances possible, before a very interested audience. I know that Doris had me bobbing and weaving, crying and begging for forgiveness for a crime that I did not commit, and if these ladies in the audience had been a jury, I am sure that this sentence given me would have been even more extreme. If anybody had suggested that they put a brand on my bottom, I am certain that the group would have agreed, perhaps unanimously. And of course, adding to the overall flavor of the moment is that the whole thing was being videotaped, in full, glorious color and sound, for posterity to view. Crime and Punishment- or better yet, Crime, Confession, and Punishment-- how's that for a title. It has a sort of Russian Ring to it, doesn't it? Something Dostoyevsky might have written. I must point out as an afterthought that what terrified me most during this session, was that one of the women suggest that they shave off my hair- both on my head and pubic. This is a particular punishment that now and then whores have gotten, especially in the South. I have no doubt that had it been suggested that it might well have happened. Supposing they had given me the choice- stand there as I was, in the clips, not to be released until I specifically asked for THAT punishment. Sooner or later I would have asked. Think of me writing this letter to you. Right now, I am nude, and after talking to you, have followed your instructions. I have that large, black rubber dildo inserted in my anus, all 9" of it. I have retrieved my nipple clip set. I have a clip on each, very erect nipple, and another one on my clit. My pussy is creamy. I am just on the verge of orgasm, and I am pretending that you have told me that I would be severely punished if I let myself cumm. I am going to disobey deliberately. I am too close to cumming to hold back, and even if it means that I get a thrashing, that I get my bottom basted with a leather strop for being "bad", that is what I am and that is what I deserve. I am trying to convince you to face up to the beginning of our meeting- the need for you to take total control and assume full authority for the session. In order for this to work, it seems to me that the preliminary part of the session needs to concentrate on past events- an analysis of past promises made and not kept, of recent questions asked where answered have been avoided, or when answered, with inadequate response. In other words, the student's shortcomings need to be enumerated, and some suitable form of instruction be offered. In this case, it seems to me that punishment in some form ABSOLUTELY MUST be the first part of the program. If not, all else is doomed to fail. Considering this student, I would suggest that her nudity is essential to the proceedings. In fact, I can visualize it. You have ordered her to answer the doorbell totally nude. When you arrive, instead she is wearing something very provocative, perhaps a baby-doll and high heels. This is an immediate violation of her instructions. You step in, see that she has begun by disobeying. Perhaps you grab her by the hair and spin her around. Perhaps, you give her a stinging slap in the face, a lesson that obedience is demanded and that nothing less will be tolerated. You know that her bedroom is upstairs and that her "toys" are hidden there. You pull the baby dolls off her, looking, of course, at her full breasts and erect nipples. You take each nipple between thumb and forefinger, pinching hard. You pull off her panties, order her to turn around, gaze at her delicious, full bottom. You pinch her ass, hard. And now you order her to lead you up the stairs to the bedroom. As she climbs the steps before you, her naked bottom undulating before your eyes, I am sure that you will study it with pleasure, knowing the joys that it can offer you if it has been properly prepared and persueded. Perhaps at the moment of truth she will plead with you, beg you not to spank her-perhaps she will offer you exotic sex instead. DO NOT ACCEPT THAT OFFER. If you do, a quick orgasm is all you will get. Insist that the proceedings go forward, exactly as planned. TAKE COMMAND. Make her show you where the toys are kept. Make her show you the crop, the tawse, and the cane, all hanging on a hook in her closet, all fully ready to participate in taming this hellcat. Look in the box of toys. See the clips, three together on the silver chain, ready to be attached to those delicious appendages. See the dildos, the butt pluggers, erect and sturdy andready to do their part in stretching those wonderful openings for you. And now TELL HER WHAT YOU ARE GOING TO DO!!. Make her understand whois master in these preceedings. Should her hands be tied behind her? Of course. Now, some means need be found to give her real fear, to make her understand totally that you HAVE TAKEN COMMAND. I suggest that she be spun face down on her own bed, her delicious ass nude, upturned and awaiting some definitive action on your part. She does not yet know what to expect from you. You know where the bamboo cane is, long and slim and lithe. Take it, swish it in the air a few times so that she can hear the unmistakeable sound that it makes. And now- GIVE IT TO HER- THHHHHHHWWWWWWWWWAACCCCKKKKKKK!!! a shocker, a real slash across her rump, across both upturned cheeks. See the firey red line appear almost instantly. Hear her shocked scream as the horrible burning sensation peaks, and lingers on. And hear the strange tone in her voice, at once fearful, knowing that she is helpless. Her husband is away, and nothing will save her from you giving her whatever you think she deserves. You will be judge and jury, and even executioner of whatever punishment you think is appropriate. And she can absolutely depend on it, her feminine wiles will get her nothing- except perhaps to get he punished even more. You have that cane and can and will give her just as much of it as you please. Now tell her what you are going to do, that you will train her in obedience, that she will have to account for all her bad behavoir in the past--and as you tell her, at regular slow intervals, THHHHHWWWWWWWWWAAAACCCCCKKKKKK-- sign your autograph on her delcious, plump ass, using that fierce rattan cane as your pen. And all this time, think about that green box that she has hidden away somewhere. She would never show it to you, never want you to see the photographs, see the intimate letters, and especially, never want you to see that video tape. Of course not. She would never willingly show you these. But her master, rattan cane in hand may have a few different ideas about that. Why, I would bet that she would not only show them to him, she could even be induced to beg for the privelege of looking at them. Now hear her beg for the opportunity to please you, hear her offer those delights she has refused in the past. She begs for the chance to show how good she can be. Can she suck your rigid cock? Would you like to give her a taste of your golden stream, directly into her open mouth, as she swallows every drop? You can have that. Do you want her hot tongue probing into your moist asshole? She is aghast at this, but now would be glad, to, no delighted to do that for you. Would you rather fuck her sweet asshole, using only her saliva as lubrication, and then later, offer your now-brown stained erection so that she could clean it for you with her tongue? No, not yet. Oh yes, she will have ample opportunity to show that she is fully docile, fully trained. But first, her master has a few scores to settle with her, and that green box is certainly one of them. And this rattan cane, with which he has already expressed his displeasure, is the perfect instrument to train this bitch, to reduced her to the state that all she wants to do is please her master, no matter what, no matter how. Now, an hour has passed. She is relaxing, as much as it is possible to relax with the fierce metal clips carresssing her nipples and her clit- and of course, with that hideous, 14" rubber dildo that her master has slowly forced into her anus, and where it rests now. He has, of course, given her the opportunity to look at the green box- and no matter how much she hated for him to see the contents, the alternative, further strokes of that awful cane, were even worse. So while she suffers, he looks at the box. Right now, he is looking at a sheaf of pictures, all very pornographic, showing Helen in one after another disgusting pose- fucking, sucking, being reamed, being spanked, getting an enema, sucking the cunny of a lovely black lady. She will be punished, certainly for all these transgressions. But right now he has a problem. He has a raging hardon, and besides that, a totally full, even uncomfortably full bladder. What to do about that? Well, at the state they are at, perhaps the first thing he will do with the golden stream is to use it to oil her tonsils- to let her suck it all down, every drop, every last drop. On the other hand, maybe he will pull that huge dildo out of her butt, and use this stream of hot piss as a natural enema. And afterwards, what then? He has a friend, a large, husky blonde lady, a policewoman named Hilda. He knows that Hilda likes nothing better than having her cunt sucked, and the thought of giving a stropping to a whore would probably be very appealing to her. Should he call Hilda and invite her over? That idea is pleasant to think about. Another idea comes to mind. Heare is Helen's address book, and here is a listing for Doris, the black maid whose picture he has already seen. He wonders if Doris would like to come over and feed Helen another eclair- another idea with strong interest to him. Well, whatever he decides to do, he has plenty of time. He is not expected home until tomorrow, and certainly she is going nowhere until he decides to release her. --