Standard Disclaimer

This is a work of fiction, and ALL the characters are fictional. In particular I refer to the chief Constable of Devon and Cornwall. I wish to make it clear that I do so in a fictional context and am not referring to any real holder of this post, past, present or future.

• Caught in the Act -

Dave was bored. He’d finished his first year exams at university and returned home to Cornwall for the summer vacation. After the endless hours of drudgery involved in working for his engineering degree he had been looking forward to relaxing during the holidays; however he was too far from his new university friends and he seemed to have lost touch with his old school mates so he was lonely and short on company. For a while he had slumped on the sofa watching daytime TV until his mother demanded that he ‘get off his butt and do something useful’. Knowing what his mother was like when she was riled he decided to get out of the house before she had him spending the entire vacation doing the housework. He stood in the garden pondering his options; the sun was beating down on a perfect summer day and the Cornish coastline was sparkling. Although there was the usual smattering of tourist traffic in early July it was before the main season and he, being a local, knew how to keep away from the crowds so he decided to head off and enjoy a walk in the sunshine.

As he made his way down the lane heading for the coast he was passed time and time again by cars full of “grockles”, the local nickname for the hoards of tourists that poured into the region every summer, and he knew that, despite what he had thought, the local beaches were going to be crowded and not the peaceful haven that he wanted. Then it struck him: the old manor house in Castle Combe had been deserted for years and you couldn’t get any more private than that. In his teens he had often explored the overgrown gardens and dilapidated outhouses that surrounded the old house and he knew every inch of the land and just how to sneak down to the private beach in the foot of the valley. Leaving the road he cut across the fields and headed for the combe. As he approached the high brick walls that surrounded the garden there were the usual signs saying that the land was private and the trespassers would be prosecuted but they were all but illegible after the years of neglect and he’d never bothered with them anyway. He followed the wall for a hundred yards or so until he found the bit where the old beech tree overhung and, swinging himself up into the branches, he scrambled over and dropped down on the other side.

He pushed his way through the overgrown garden heading down the combe towards the house and the beach but hadn’t gone far when he came to the path and realised with a jolt that the house wasn’t as unoccupied as it used to be. Whereas the top of the combe was still a wilderness the rest of it had been extensively cleared and the path, which used to be difficult to find, was now free of obstacles and well maintained. Bare stumps and disturbed earth showed where the thick undergrowth had been cut back hard to reveal the mature garden underneath. This was divided into a sequence of hidden glades each of which also showed signed of recent maintenance with manicured turf and rebuilt bridges over the beck which ran down the valley.

Dave knew he ought to leave, he was, after all, in someone’s private garden and just because it had been his playground when he was growing up didn’t mean the new owners would see it that way. However he was also intrigued; they’d made a good job of reconstructing the bits he’d seen and he wanted to find out what they had done with the rest. Maybe, if he kept quiet and stayed away from the house… Anyway, sneaking around in someone else’s grounds was just the way to spice up an otherwise dull day. Keeping firmly to the top end of the combe he explored the old garden finding again and again that the undergrowth had been drastically pruned to return it to its former glory. Piles of logs and sawdust attested to the hard work of what must have been teams of gardeners. What was particularly noticeable was the way the path that wove around the garden had been cleared and repaired and was a good four or five feet wide all the way around with a smooth, well maintained surface. Maybe they were planning to open it to the public the way they had done at Heligan once the season got into full swing.

After half an hour or so Dave had seen enough. He wasn’t that interested in gardening and having to keep away from the house limited where he could go. He was therefore heading back across the top of the combe when he heard someone coming up the path. The sounds they were making were unusual, a combination of a metallic jingling and sharp, almost bird-like cries. Realising that he was seconds away from being caught he glanced around and, spotting a rhododendron bush, quickly hid himself away. Although mostly obstructed by the thick growth of leaves he still had a partial view down the path; he was keen to check out these newcomers who had bought the old manor after it had lain vacant all those years.

Whatever Dave had been expecting it wasn’t what he saw. He got the shock of his life when a near naked woman came into view round a bend in the path. She was wearing what could only be described as a harness made from leather strapping which did nothing to cover her breasts or groin; indeed it seemed designed to draw attention to them. She had short chains of decorative bells attached to her breasts were which explained the jingling sound and on her wrists there were leather cuffs attached to the shafts of some sort of buggy which put Dave in mind of an open rickshaw. Her head was constrained by a of bridle complete with blinkers, a bit across the mouth, and reins which disappeared behind her.

As she drew nearer Dave could see the occupant of the rickshaw. Again it was a woman but the contrasts were vivid. Whereas the woman pulling the buggy was young, Dave guessed she was not much older than himself, the rider was more mature, Dave guessed late thirties or early forties; whereas the puller was near naked the rider was formally dressed in old fashioned riding gear including a long skirt and jacket; whereas the puller was constrained and controlled the rider was obviously in charge, even without the whip she carried. As they reached the top end of the garden the path was quite steep and the younger woman was struggling against the grade. The rider flicked at the puller with her whip which caused her to cry out, her words distorted by the bit in her mouth; that explained the bird like cries.

“Come on, pull harder!” The rider urged. “One more lap and I’ll let you rest for a bit.”

With a grunt the younger woman bent to her task and, as they reached the top of the hill the rickshaw gathered speed and disappeared off down the path.

Dave was dumbfounded. He’d never seen anything so bizarre. He was shy with girls and his sexual experience was very limited and he’d never dreamed that he’d ever witness anything like he’d just seen. His heart raced and his breathing was shallow and the image of the near naked woman danced before his eyes. He had to see more, he couldn’t possibly let it rest at that. The driver had said there would be one more lap; that meant that they would be coming back round again. His view from the rhododendron had been mostly blocked and the path twisted so much that he’d only got the briefest of glimpses. He needed to find a better hiding place and quickly. He glanced around; an old summer house stood just off the path at the end of one of the straighter sections and he guessed that it would have plenty of suitable knotholes in the planking. He nipped over to investigate and, yes, it was perfect. There were indeed plenty of cracks between the boarding which would allow him a perfect view with no risk of being detected. Selecting a suitable crack he manoeuvred some boxes he’d found into a comfortable seat and settled down to wait.

Whilst he waited he thought over exactly what he’d just seen. When it was happening it was all too much to take in and immediately afterwards he’d been too busy looking for a hiding place but now he was settled he brought the image back to mind. He could still see the way the black leather strapping contrasted with her pale skin, the way that two straps had descended, one from each hip to her groin, emphasising her neatly trimmed pubic hair. How the bells had hung from her breasts, presumably they were clipped to her nipples, surely that must hurt! But is was the look on her face that really got to him; she’d obviously been struggling pulling the rickshaw up the long slope, and the whip had caused her to cry out in real pain, but she hadn’t looked unwilling; she was evidently there of her own volition. Did she enjoy being driven as much as the driver enjoyed the driving?

As he waited Dave realised just how uncomfortable his groin had become. Subconsciously his hand had delved between his thighs and was massaging his fast hardening penis which had become entangled in his boxer shorts. He undid his jeans and slipped them, along with his boxers, down his thighs. With his penis free of constraint he could play with it properly. He settled back to his knot hole just in time to see the buggy reappear. This time he had a much longer view and a far better viewing point so he was fully able to appreciate what he was seeing. Whist he was no great equestrian he was a country lad and knew enough about harnesses to see that the younger woman was acting as a pony, pulling a buggy, no better still, a pony cart, which, now he had more time to look at it, was a bit like the sulkies that Americans use in horse racing. As they got closer Dave could see that the ‘pony’ was sweating freely, the day was quite warm and she was obviously being driven hard. Over her shoulder he could see the driver leaning forward in the seat, urging her on. There was a glazed, faraway look in the pony’s eyes matched by a vivid intensity in the eyes of the driver; the two of them, both pony and driver, were completely wound up in what they were doing. Again the ‘pony’ struggled on a steep bit of the path and again the driver flicked at her with the whip. The ‘pony’ cried out as the whip struck and gave an extra tug to pull the sulky to the top of the hill and out of Dave’s line of sight.

With a sigh Dave sat back. The pace of his masturbation eased from a frenzy to a gentle rhythm as he thought about what he was going to do now. He had never felt so feverishly excited and his swollen testicles wanted immediate release but the thought of it being all over, that after two brief glimpses he wouldn’t see anything more, was not one he could live with. He knew he ought to finish his wank, clean up and leave before he was discovered but the desire for more, for just one more glimpse, overrode common sense.

He pulled up his jeans and carefully slipped out of the summer house. Keeping under cover as much as he could he worked his way along the path. Even so he almost blundered when, turning a corner in the path, he came across the two women relaxing in one of the glades. He quickly stepped back into cover. Now to find somewhere to hide. He looked around; a rhododendron bush was ruled out because there was no way he could hide in it quietly, there were no suitable summer houses in this part of the garden and most of the obvious hiding places wouldn’t give him a clear view. However, one of the many beech trees offered a solution. Its low sweeping branches would make it a piece of cake to climb and, once he got high enough, if he lay along a branch he would be all but invisible. A slight breeze stirred the leaves and their rustling would cover any sounds he might make. Using the utmost stealth he crept up the tree, moving slowly, carefully and above all as silently as he could until he was in position. He found the perfect branch, maybe fifteen feet up, which overhung the glade. His view was slightly obscured by leaves but that was all well and good because it meant that their possible view of him, were they to look, would be equally obscured.

The driver had spread a blanket out on the grass and had unpacked a hamper. She was enjoying a glass of wine and what looked like sandwiches. The pony, still fastened to the sulky, was knelt down with two bowls before her. As Dave watched she lifted her face briefly; it was covered with something like porridge. She dipped her head to the other bowl and it came up clean again. Dave guessed that it must contain water. Again there was the contrast between the driver’s wine and sandwiches against the pony’s oats and water. This was the first time he had seen the pony’s back; to reinforce the pony aspect she had a tail that protruded from the base of her spine, but from this distance he couldn’t see how it was attached. For maybe fifteen minutes Dave just lay there enjoying the view until the driver put down her glass and stood up.

“Right then, it’s time we got down to business.” She walked over to a tree at the opposite side of the glade and unfastened a rope which hung over one of the branches. Dave realised how lucky he’d been; if the rope had been over one of the branches of the tree he was in there was no way he would have escaped discovery. The driver then went over to the sulky, unfastened the pony, and led her to the tree. In moments the pony’s hands were fastened together and pulled over her head until she was nearly on tiptoe. The driver returned to the sulky and rummaged about in a box fitted beneath the seat. She retuned to the pony with a metal bar which had cuffs attached at each end. These were attached to the pony’s ankles spreading her legs as wide as they would go. Now Dave could see her backside properly he could see that the tail was fixed to something that ran between the pony’s buttock cheeks, with a wider piece where it fitted inside her bottom. Dave tried to imagine how it would feel to be pulling the sulky whilst having something like that pushed up your bottom. Indeed, just the thought of exactly what it was the was pushed up the poor pony’s bottom added to the turn on.

Once more the driver returned to the sulky, this time she fetched a leather paddle.

“Twelve strokes, I think. That will teach my little Freckles to behave herself over the jumps, won’t it?”

THWACK! The sound of leather against buttock echoed round the glade. THWACK! The second stroke fell, this time matched by a cry of pain from ‘Freckles’. The driver was taking her time, placing her strokes carefully and letting the impact settle in before applying the next one. Dave was transfixed; if watching the pony cart had been erotic this beat it in spades. Urgently he reached for his jeans, unfastened them and pushed them as far down as he could in his precarious position. He wasn’t too bothered about noise, the combination of the ‘thwacks’ from the paddle and ‘Freckles’ cries would drown out any noise he might make but the urgency of his desire demanded that he play with himself immediately.

By the time the twelfth stroke fell Freckles was sobbing freely. The driver dropped the paddle on the ground and went over to her. She pulled her in close and kissed her long and hard. Dave could see that, however much pain she might be in, Freckles had been fully aroused by the paddling; she was responding to the kiss, giving back as good as she got,  and was trying as much as her bonds would allow to rub herself against the driver.

“Now it’s time for you to say ‘thank you’, isn’t it?” The driver said, pulling away from the kiss. She unfastened the rope and Freckles slumped to the floor. She then went back to the blanket and sat down. She reached forward and took the hem of her skirt in her hands, lifting it, bunching it, until she was exposed from the waist down. Dave craned his head to get a better view.

“Come along, little one. Your Mistress is waiting.”

Freckles hands were still fastened together and her legs were held apart by the spreader so it was awkward for her but she crawled across the grass towards the driver. Once she got there she leant forward and kissed the drivers toes, her calves, her knees; a trail of kisses heading for the centre of the driver’s pleasure. Unfortunately for Dave the blanket lay in a spot partially obscured by one of the branches but there was no way he was going to miss any of this action. If he leaned over to the right… if he grabbed onto that branch there… if he stretched just a little more… There was an ominous creak and the branch he was using to steady himself started to give way. Desperately he tried to pull back but it was no good; he’d passed the point of no return and, whether he liked it or not, he was going to fall. Gracelessly he slid from the branch onto the branch below which caught him in the stomach, winding him. Another thud, another scrape and he fell to the ground clutching his side and gasping for breath.

For a moment or two all he could do was lie there, gasping for air like a fish out of water. When, at last, he could breath again he opened his eyes to see a pair of boots in front of his face. He looked up and the driver was standing over him

“Well, well, well. What have we got here? Some dirty little peeping tom sneaking around spying on people. Can you stand up? Are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance?”

“No, I’m Ok, I’m just a little bruised and winded.” Dave struggled to his feet but when he reached for his jeans his hands were pushed away.

“You can stay just like that for now, there’s no dignity due to little perverts like you. Now, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call the police.”

“The police! Please, Miss, please, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spy. Please don’t call the police.”

“I didn’t mean to spy.” The driver repeated mockingly. “You come into my private garden, creeping through the bushes peeking out on my private life and you say you didn’t mean to spy. I still don’t see why I shouldn’t call the police. The chief constable is a particular friend of mine and I know she’d take a very dim view of a pathetic little pervert like you.”

“Please, Miss.” Dave sank to his knees. He contemplated the shame, the disgrace, when something like this got known around the local community and, if the police were involved, it would be fully known in no time. “Please, I beg you, please don’t call the police.”

“Pathetic!” The driver bent down and picked up Dave’s wallet from the ground. It had evidently fallen from his hip pocket as he had tumbled from the tree. She flicked through it’s contents, noting his driver’s license. For a moment or two she just stood thinking, looking at Dave in a contemplative way.

“Well, David Trebarron of four, Mill Lane, as you can see I do have alternative ways of dealing with naughty little children like you. I think I’ll keep hold of this and you can come and collect it at seven-o-clock this evening. That will give me time to decide exactly what to do with you” She tucked Dave’s wallet into a pocket in her jacket. “Now, I think it’s time you pulled your pants up and got out of my garden before I change my mind.”

As quick as he could Dave pulled up his jeans and ran.

- The Lions Den -

“Mum, you didn’t tell me that the old manor house had been sold.” Dave, having arrived back home, had sought out his mother who knew all the local gossip.

“Oh, yes.” She replied. “Christine Waverley, the novelist, has bought it. You wouldn’t know her, it’s mostly romantic novels for women, but her books are in all the supermarkets and they sell by the truckload. She lives there with her secretary, Jenny Simmonds. They mostly keep themselves to themselves but you’ll see Jenny around the village from time to time.”

“So she’s another of those rich city folk who come down here and buy up all the good housing.” Dave sneered.

“David! She’s not like that at all. Firstly she’s got Cornish roots so she belongs down here. Secondly she’s got local connections, she’s a good friend of Maureen Thompson, you know, the woman from Hilltop House who’s doing so well in the police force, and thirdly it’s good to see someone taking care of the old manor house for a change. It’s been empty for donkey’s years and she’s finally fixing it up. You should see the money she’s spending on it. Half the tradesmen in the county have done some work there. Anyway, why do you want to know?”

“Oh, I was cutting across the combe on my way to the beach and I saw that the gardens had been fixed up.”

“Don’t you go trespassing. I know you used to treat that garden as you own personal playground when you were a kid but you can’t any more. It’s private and I know they like it that way.”

David went off to the bathroom to sort out the scratches and bruises on his ribs. It wasn’t too bad but he needed to tidy up a bit. ‘Come to think of it’ he thought to himself ‘I’d best take a bath. I don’t want to arrive all smelly.’

As Dave soaked in the warm water he thought about what his mother had told him. Best selling novelist living there with her ‘secretary’. Hmm… He’d seen exactly what sort of secretary Jenny was, or maybe he should call her Freckles. Friend of Maureen Thompson, it looked like the threat of going to the police was valid. The last thing he needed was to be reported for perving on a good friend of the chief constable. He wondered what she had in store for him. He remembered Freckles’ cries as she had been paddled, and the vivid red marks which covered her buttocks; whatever was waiting for him it was going to hurt. However, despite his nerves, despite his concerns about putting himself at the mercy  of this dominatrix, he never once thought of bottling out. It wasn’t just that she had his wallet, it wasn’t just that she’d go to the police if he didn’t show, it was that he knew that he’d never seen anything as erotic as the scene he’d witnessed earlier that day. Whether is was the sight of Jenny/Freckles in full harness pulling the sulky along the path, or seeing her hanging from the tree, naked and exposed, while Christine Waverley paddled her backside, or seeing her crawl across the grass ready to bow down and worship at her mistresses groin, he was hard, rock hard, just thinking about it. He gave his penis a few tentative strokes. Would tonight be purely pain or would there be a sexual angle to it?

At five-o-clock he sat down for his evening meal.

“Hello, has someone got a girlfriend?” his mother asked teasingly as she put the plates on the table.

“Err… No. I’m just going out, that’s all.” He replied nervously.

“Hmm, hair all spruced up, your best shirt on, you look a bit dressed up for a night in the Kings Arms.” Dave’s mum laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m only teasing, I won’t probe any more. You have a good evening, wherever you’re going.”

At six thirty, leaving himself plenty of time, Dave slipped out of the house and headed for Castle Combe

When he got to the front gates his nerve nearly went. The house was so imposing, and he felt like a naughty schoolboy reporting to the headmaster. He pressed the button on the intercom attached to the gatepost and waited. For a moment a light came on next to the CCTV camera and then a metallic voice crackled from the speaker.

“Hello, David. Come round to the tradesmen’s entrance. I’ll let you in.”

The front gate swung back smoothly and Dave made his way up the drive, past a top of the range Mercedes, and round to the side of the house. He’d barely reached for the doorbell when the door swung back and Jenny let him in to the kitchen. Dave looked around; just as with the garden the house had been extensively and expensively renovated. The mixture of original fittings and modern technology showed style and class, and this was just the kitchen. Jenny was dressed in a maid’s uniform, not one of the cheap trashy ones you find in sex shops, but what looked like the real thing. It certainly gave her a demure, innocent look.

“I wasn’t sure you would make it.” She smiled at Dave. “I don’t know whether you’re brave or don’t realise what you’re in for. You can get undressed in there.”

“Undressed! I didn’t realise that I’d have to undress!” Dave was aghast.

“Oh, yes. Madam insists on it. Now come on, it doesn’t pay to keep the ladies waiting.”

For a moment, taken aback by this new development, Dave hesitated; this was already moving far beyond his comfort zone. On the other hand he was already in too deep to back out; as soon as he’d pressed the buzzer by the gate he’d known he was going to go through with this, whatever it was. On top of that he still had to retrieve his wallet. Jenny led Dave to a small room just off the kitchen. It was a bit like a gym changing room with a shower unit at the far end and rows of pegs along one wall, many of them empty, some with coat hangers and some with strange leather items hanging from them.

As he started on the buttons of his shirt he expected Jenny to leave him to it but that was not to be. She stood, leaning against the door jamb, watching him closely. This lack of privacy added further to the general sense of loss of control and stirred something deep inside him. His penis, which seemed to have developed a mind of its own, started to stiffen. By the time he’d removed his shirt, his shoes and his socks he was really quite hard. His trousers had to come next and there was no way he could continue to hide his arousal from her. And that just made it worse; the more he worried about it the harder he got. Biting the bullet he pushed his pants to the floor and, trying hard to pretend that all was normal, slipped them off and hung them up.

“Oooh, look who’s got a stiffy.” Jenny laughed. Dave tried to cover himself up with his hands but she ordered him to stand up straight with his arms by his side. She reached out and fondled him gently.

“Hmmm, not bad, not bad at all.” She eased his foreskin back and forth across his glans. “I wonder if you know what to do with it?”

Jenny reached for some cuffs which were hanging from the pegs. Two went around his ankles and two around his wrists. She then found a lead and clipping the two wrist cuffs together attached the lead to them.

“You ought to have a collar but you haven’t earned one yet. Still, this will do. It’s time I took you through to the Ladies.” With a gentle tug of the lead she led him out into the kitchen and down the hallway. Dave could only follow, his erect penis flopping about before him. She stopped at a doorway and knocked. At the single word ‘Come’ she pushed open the door and led Dave inside positioning him on the hearthrug in front of the fire.

In yet another surprise for Dave there were two women in the room. One he now knew to be Christine Waverley but the other was a stranger. She was a slim, athletic looking woman with short dark hair. She appeared to be wearing a long black silk kimono with a Chinese design on it. She wore a pair of high-heeled leather boots that must have been at least knee high as they disappeared under the black silky material. Dave couldn’t help but stare at her and, unwittingly he caught her eye before quickly looking away and, as he did so, he felt as if her glare looked right through him. She got up out of her chair and went over to stand in front of Dave.

“On your knees, you pathetic little worm.” She snarled. Dave hurried to comply. “Mistress Christine has told me all about your sneaking around spying on innocent women. However, as her tastes tend towards the Sapphic she’s asked me to come over and deal with you. I’m Mistress Joanne and you will address me as Madam. You will not speak unless spoken to and you will obey every order instantly and without question. Is that understood.”

“Yes. Yes, Madam.” Dave mumbled.

“Look at you, you’re just a grubby little schoolboy who gets his dirty little kicks from creeping around in the bushes being a peeping tom. Mistress Christine tells me that you had your trousers round your ankles when she found you. I just bet you were wanking away, tugging at the pathetic little dick of yours. That’s the only way you’ll ever get your kicks, no real woman would ever be interested in a filthy disgusting creep such as you. So, why should I bother? Why should I waste my time punishing you when it won’t do any good?”

“Please, Madam, I’ll be good. I’ll do anything you want.” Swept away by the torrent of verbal abuse Dave did feel small, pathetic and unworthy in front of this magnificent woman who was berating him so. He was expecting physical punishment but this was somehow far more powerful. And still, despite his self-doubt, this feeling that he was indeed a dirty little schoolboy that needed punishing, his penis didn’t seem to have got the message and was standing stiff and proud before him.

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Mistress Joanne turned to Mistress Christine. “Shall we go to the stables?”

“Of course.” Mistress Christine stood up and went over to the French windows. She opened them wide and went out on to the lawn. Without another glance at Dave, Mistress Joanne followed leaving Jenny to take Dave by the lead and follow them out. They went around the side of the house and crossed the yard to the outbuildings. Mistress Christine unlocked the stable door and they followed her in.

Dave looked around him. He could see why the door had been locked, this was very much a private area. The stables had been renovated as much as the house and garden and all but two of the stalls had been removed. The floors were smooth brick and the whole place was spotlessly clean. He could see the sulky, and another like it, over in a corner, wooden horses, stocks and the like were arranged in neat stacks and various leather items hung from hooks around the walls. Jenny, without being asked, fetched a horse with a padded leather top and placed it in front of Dave before going over and standing next to Mistress Christine. Mistress Joanne went over to the collection of whips, canes, riding crops and other similar instruments that hung on a series of hooks.

“Now then, what shall we use today? The crop, maybe?” She took it down and flicked it a couple of times. “Have you ever been punished before?”

“No, Madam.” Dave flinched at the sound of the crop swishing through the air.

“Maybe this is a little harsh for a punishment virgin like you. How about the cane?” She swapped the crop for a cane which was one of the old fashioned bendy school ma’am varieties. “Yes, this will do. Now lets get you sorted.”

She undid the tie of the kimono and shrugged it off. Dave gasped and sunk to his knees. She was wearing some sort of leather corset which stretched from her breasts to her groin, which it completely covered.  The boots were knee length and tight fitting; her thighs were encased in black stockings held up by suspenders which hung from the corset. Even without the heels she was tall, and with them she towered over Dave, making him feel even smaller and insignificant. Dave felt overwhelmed, he had never seen a woman look so strong, so dominant, so powerful. Ever since he had arrived he had been in awe of these women; even the youngest, Jenny, was so much more sophisticated, so much more mature, so much more sexually experienced that he felt, in contrast, like a lost little child, but it was a child lost in the sweet shop; feelings he’d never felt before boiled within him, awaking new desires, new appetites he’d never known he’d had. All he could do was bow down and worship.

“Did I tell you to kneel? I don’t think I did. Now get yourself over that horse immediately and stop wasting my time.”

Dave got back on his feet and bent over the horse. It was sufficiently high that when he was bent over it both his hands and his feet were off the ground so it was a bit of a scramble to get into position. He wasn’t surprised to find that it had clips which attached to his wrist and ankle cuffs which were then adjusted until he was stretched tightly across the horse and held firmly in place.

Swish – THWACK! With no warning, no preamble, the first blow fell. Dave felt as if a line of fire had been lain across his buttocks. His whole body jerked against the restraints but he was held fast and going nowhere.

Swish – THWACK! Swish – THWACK! There was no break between the blows, no respite, no chance to catch his breath. Dave lost all control, he screamed he begged, he cried; anything, anything to get it to stop. He’d heard the phrase ‘a world of pain’; now he was living in the red hot centre of one. But still, even though every nerve, every muscle screamed in torment, part of him was aware of how his struggles were rubbing his still hard penis against the leather of the horse.

Swish – THWACK! The last blow fell and the stables went quiet; quiet except for Dave’s sobbing. He lay physically, emotionally, spiritually exhausted, his whole being focused on the ball of fire that was his buttocks.

After a while he felt his hands, and then his feet being released. He slumped to the floor; the cool smooth bricks felt soothing against his battered flesh.

“Here, boy. Come and say ‘thank you’.” Dave looked up. Mistress Joanne was seated on a throne-like chair beckoning to him. He scuttled across the floor and knelt before her.

“Thank you, Mis…” Dave started but Mistress Joanne grabbed him by the hair and pulled his face into her lap. Her other hand reached down and unfastened a popper or something allowing the crotch piece of her corset to open and Dave found his face pushed into her groin. Feverishly he kissed her pubic mound. He knew he was supposed to do something but, in his naïve innocence he really didn’t know what. After a second or two Mistress Joanne pulled his face away from her.

“You don’t know what to do, do you? You don’t know how to honour a woman with your tongue.”  Mistress Joanne asked, slightly surprised.

“No, Madam.” Dave hung his face in shame.

“How sweet. You’ll have to learn and I’m going to have so much fun teaching you, but not now, not today. I need satisfying immediately, and, whether or not you’re man enough to do it, you’re all I’ve got. Do you think you’ve got the self control?”

“Self control? I don’t know, Madam.” Dave muttered, genuinely bemused.

“You really are a virgin, aren’t you? You’ve never been with a woman before.” The surprise was evident in Mistress Joanne’s voice.

“Yes, Madam.” Now Dave really was embarrassed. His face felt nearly as hot and red as his bottom.

“Well, well, well; there’s a turn up for the books. Our snooper is a sweet little virgin. Well, you won’t be one for long, but make a mess of this and you’ll wish you’d never been born. There’s a low bench over there, the padded one. Fetch it over.”

Dave did as he was told. The bench was maybe a foot high, four feet wide, and seven feet long and covered with padded leather. Again he wasn’t surprised to see that there were chains at various points waiting to be attached to wrist and ankle cuffs. He brought it over and, at a word from Mistress Joanne, lay down on it. He winced as his buttocks touched the leather but managed to stifle the yelp of pain. Mistress Joanne fastened the chains and he lay spread-eagled, face up awaiting her pleasure. She disappeared for a moment and when she returned he felt her playing with his penis and he realised that she was fitting a condom. Then she knelt over him and reached down and took him in her hands.

“Well, my pretty little virgin, this is it, today you become a man. But remember, this is for my pleasure, not yours. If you come before I say so, if you can’t control your lust, I’ll make your life a misery, and trust me, that’s no idle threat.”

She rubbed the tip of his penis up and down the lips of her vagina and then, in one smooth movement, she slid it deep, deep inside her and settled on him like a nesting bird. At first she hardly moved, just gently rocking backwards and forwards whilst playing with herself, one hand on her clitoris, the other on her breasts, Slowly but surely she increased the tempo and Dave was having to use all he had to control himself; this was so much better than anything he had ever felt before.

Mistress Joanne leaned forward and, resting her hands on his shoulders, looked straight into his eyes.

“You’re scum, you’re filth, you’re the dirt beneath my feet. I wouldn’t use you as a doormat, you worthless piece of muck!” She hissed between clenched teeth. She was now moving in long smooth strokes and Dave felt as if he were going to explode at any moment. Desperately he struggled to hold himself back.

“But, filth, you’ll come crawling back, crawling on your belly through the dirt, begging me for my favours, begging me to even notice you. You’ll give everything you’ve got just to be allowed to drink my piss. Won’t you worm!”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Mistress Joanne’s eyes clouded over, Dave could feel her internal muscles grasping him tighter. Her breathing was shallow and fast, feverishly she drove herself down on him.

“YES!, YES, NOW!” Just as Dave could hold back no more she climaxed and as Dave pumped load after load of sperm from his prick she pushed herself down onto him again and again until, finally sated, she collapsed forward on top of him.

For several moments the two of them just lay there, catching their breath, coming down from the high. Then Mistress Joanne slipped off him, stood up and, without another word, fetched her kimono, put it on and left. Still fastened spread-eagled on the bench, still with the condom on his now flaccid penis, Dave lay there in the silent stables.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” Jenny appeared, leaning over him, unfastening the chains. Although she was still dressed in her maid’s uniform she was looking more than a little dishevelled. It would appear that Mistress Christine and Jenny had been far from passive spectators and had been enjoying themselves in their own way. Once he was free they tidied away the horse and the bench and picked up the cane from where Mistress Joanne had dropped it. With the stables now spotless again Jenny took Dave by the hand and let him back to the changing room.

“You had best have a shower.” She told him. “There’s shampoo and shower gel on the shelf. I’ll fetch a clean towel.”

Dave washed himself gingerly. His buttocks were still sore, and were going to remain so for some time, but the shower reinvigorated him. When he emerged Jenny was waiting with the towel. Again Dave expected to be left alone but Jenny stayed with him and helped him dress.

“That’s better.” Jenny said once he had finished. “Now you’re ready to rejoin the ladies. You know where to go; down the hall, second on the left.”

Dave went of down the hall and knocked on the second door on the left. Instead of the imperious ‘Come’ he and Jenny had got last time a cheery ‘Come in’ invited him into the room. It was obvious he wasn’t the only one who had showered; Mistress Joanne was now dressed in a loose jogging outfit. It said a lot for her class and style that she still looked regal, even in such casual clothing.

“Ah, David, come on in. How our little not-a-virgin-anymore?” Mistress Christine laughed.

“I’m fine, Madam”  Dave replied.

“Oh, you can drop the ‘Madam’ now. We’re only formal when we’re in punishment mode. Chris and Jo will be fine.”

“How’s the bottom?” Jo chipped in. “Did I spice it up enough for you?”

“You were incredible.” Dave replied. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“So I gather. Here, come and sit down.” Jo patted the seat next to her. “You’ll find the sofa’s quite soft.”

At that moment Jenny entered carrying a tray with a bottle of white wine and four glasses. She poured out the drinks and the four of them settled down to chat. Dave noticed that, although Jenny was no longer in ‘maid’ or ‘pony’ role she still sat on the floor next to Chris’s feet. For a while they just chatted but Dave did get the feeling he was being gently interrogated, or maybe checked out would be more accurate.

“Look,” Chris said to Dave eventually, “the thing is, well, Jo and I have a sort of club. Just a few of us and it’s very, very, discrete, but we all enjoy the same soft of games. You blundered in on Jen and myself at play so you know the sort of thing we like; well, sometimes it’s best with just two and sometimes we like to have a little party, a pony show if you will. How about it, how about seeing what it’s like as a pony boy.”

“I’d take a special interest in your training.” Jo purred. She reached forward and stroked the top of Dave’s thigh. “That was quite an impressive display of self control you showed back there. I think you would make a very suitable candidate.”

“What can I say.” Dave spluttered. “I’d love to. Yes.”

“Well, that calls for a drink. Jenny, be a love and fetch another bottle. Let’s make it champagne this time. We’ll drink the health of the pony club’s newest member.”

- Training Day Pt 1 -

That night Dave lay in bed thinking over the evening’s events. He’d had several glasses of wine and was feeling more than a little dizzy. His sex life, which, apart from a few fumbles at the student disco, had previously consisted entirely of his right hand, had come alive in a very major way and, even now, he was still hard from just thinking about it. He was somewhat in awe of the three women; even Jenny who was not much older than him, seemed so much more sophisticated, but, as they had chatted away the evening it had been very friendly and welcoming.

Naturally the conversation had centred around pony boys and girls. They had discussed the etiquette of pony training; how, for example, a pony would never speak because ‘who ever heard of a talking pony’. How they would have pony shows where sometimes the ponies were raced and sometimes they had ‘dressage’ contests. Dave asked about a harness; naturally custom designed leatherwear like that did not come cheap and was well outside Dave’s budget but both Chris and Jo promised to help with spare bits of kit which could be called into use. The tail, however, was another matter. Not only were they costly but they were custom made and very individual. Dave would have to wait a while before he would get one.

They also discussed the importance of names; Jenny, for example, became ‘Simmonds the Maid’ or ‘Freckles the Pony’ depending on what roles were being played. This helped keep the separate areas separate and let everyone know where they stood. It was stressed that the naming ceremony was an important part of a pony’s training and the name would be chosen by his owner, not by the pony, so Dave would have to wait to find out what his pony name he was going to have.

They had asked Dave if he had any particular sexual likes or dislikes but he really couldn’t answer as his experience was so limited. Christine commented that, as all involved were broad minded consenting adults acting in private, to a large extent the only limits were safety and the participant’s imagination and sometimes the most suitable punishment for a naughty pony was to force them to do something they were reluctant to do, rather than keeping strictly within everyone’s comfort zones. They also explained about safe words but again they stressed that part of the fun is finding that you can go just that bit further than you thought.

In particular Dave thought about Jo, or rather Mistress Joanne. Although she was probably nearly as old as his mother, she was, without doubt, the sexiest woman he had ever met. His admiration of her knew no bounds; her style and her sophistication made him feel like a bumbling ingénue and he was flattered that she had paid him so much attention. Although no specific date had been set she had mentioned that she was interested in ‘training’ him and would be in contact to make suitable arrangements. He wondered how soon she would call and just what the training would entail. Almost certainly he would be put to use as a pony boy and she would be his ‘owner’, that had been perfectly clear, but Mistress Joanne had hinted at far, far more besides.

He remembered, how could he ever forget, the sensations as she had knelt astride him. How powerless he’d felt, how much an instrument of her pleasure, but how good it had felt to be that instrument. He remembered the words she’d said: ‘But, filth, you’ll come crawling back, crawling on your belly through the dirt, begging me for my favours, begging me to even notice you. You’ll give everything you’ve got just to be allowed to drink my piss.’ Would he? There was no doubt about it; he would do anything she asked, anything at all and he would feel honoured to be allowed to worship. He would never, ever, forget how it had felt as she knelt over him, how she had slid him deep inside her, how she had ridden him until they had both climaxed and how coming inside her had felt so wonderful, so incredible, so fantastically good. And, if the price to be paid was a well caned bottom, then so be it. Indeed, mixed in with the pain was a perverse pleasure; he remembered the feeling of his rock hard penis rubbing against the leather top of the horse as he had bucked and wriggled whilst the cane had turned his buttocks into ball of searing pain. He smiled to himself and, gently fondling his still hard penis, drifted off to sleep.

Meanwhile, back at Castle Combe, Jo snuggled under the covers in the guest room. She’d was far too tipsy to drive home and Christine and Jenny, as on many previous occasions, had invited her stay the night; indeed, she kept an overnight bag there for just such occasions. She too was replaying the evening’s events. It had been a while since she was so intrigued by a potential playmate; although the sex had not been that spectacular, breaking in a virgin, in all senses of the word, had given an added twist to her orgasm. It wasn’t often they found new members for the pony club and very rare to find someone as young as David. Forty was fast approaching and, although she took care of herself and spent plenty of time in the gym keeping fit, like every woman she worried about the ravages of time. To have a boy, yes, a boy of nineteen, so obviously enamoured of her charms was very flattering; all the more so in that he seemed keen to play it the way she liked it. What’s more, he had shown a remarkable level of self control; far too many others had failed to last the course, putting their own pleasure before hers and shooting their load long before she was ready leaving her high and dry, and, whilst cunnilingus was all very well, there was nothing like climaxing with a good hard prick deep, deep inside you.

She decided she’d leave him dangling for a few days, it didn’t do to seem too keen, but she’d made sure she’d got his mobile number and she was definitely going to use it. To think that the poor innocent didn’t know what his tongue was for! He was certainly going to learn and she was going to have so much fun teaching him.

For three long days Dave kept checking his mobile, willing it to ring. Jo had stressed that he was to wait for her to call him; she wouldn’t tolerate it the other way round. She was making certain that, right from the start, Dave knew who was in control. In the end it wasn’t a phone call after all, but a text message which simply said

The Old Ale House

Truro

Tomorrow 11:30

Bring overnight bag

Getting to Truro wasn’t going to be too much of a bother, there was a passable bus service which would get him there in plenty of time. Explaining to his mother where he was going with an overnight bag was another matter; it was nice that she cared so much but sometimes she could be over protective. After all, he was nineteen. In the end he invented a story about a friend from college who was surfing in Newquay and had invited him to stay over for a day or two. His mum offered him a lift but he managed to get out of it.

The bus to Truro rattled its way into the town centre at ten thirty so he had plenty of time to spare before he was due at the pub. He quickly found the Old Ale House but, rather than wait inside, decided to wander round the town for a while. He didn’t want to have an hour’s worth of drinking under his belt and be sqiffy before Jo even arrived. That was another point; he wasn’t sure whom he was meeting, Jo or Mistress Joanne, but he’d cross that bridge when he got to it. He wandered from shop to shop staring at the goods in the window but, even with all the prevaricating, he was still sat in the bar with a pint in front of him well before it was time.

Eleven thirty came and went, so did eleven forty five. Dave had been anxious enough when he’d arrived; now he was a bundle of nerves. Each time the door opened he looked up but each time it wasn’t her. The time was nearly twelve and he was beginning to think he had been set up when she finally arrived. Dave’s heart skipped a beat. As ever she was elegantly dressed in a businesslike knee length skirt and matching jacket and was, without doubt, the classiest lady he’d ever known. She glanced round the pub, spotted him, came over and sat down.

“So, you made it Ok.” She said.

“Yes, Madam.”

“Not ‘Madam’, not now, there’s plenty of time for that later. It’s David and Jo at the moment, Ok? Now I’d like a glass of white wine please, and fetch us a couple of menus, the food is very good here.”

Dave went to the bar and ordered her a glass of wine. He hoped he wouldn’t have to buy all the drinks. As a gentleman he knew he should but as a student his funds were strictly limited. He grabbed a couple of menus off the bar and brought them back to the table. Jo flicked through the menu a couple of times and then settled on the prawn salad. Dave baulked at the price but got up to order it anyway.

“Is my student friend worried about his finances?” Jo asked when she saw his face. Reaching into her purse she slipped him a twenty pound note. “Here, this will help.”

Gratefully Dave took the money and went off to order lunch. Until they had cleared their plates the talk was general, but, once they were finished, Jo leaned forward and ran her fingers along the top of Dave’s thigh.

“Are you ready for this?” She asked quietly.

“Yes, please, Madam.” Dave replied.

“Then let’s get one thing quite clear from the start. This is about my pleasure; I’m in charge and what I say goes. We both know that you like having your bottie smacked, and, if you’re a good boy, you might get a nice little reward from time to time, but don’t go thinking this will be a bed of roses and you’re going to be shooting your load every five minutes. Use the safe word if you have to but don’t go using it just because you’re not getting everything your own way. I’ve known far too many slaves who think that they have the right to tell their Mistress how she should treat them; they’re wrong. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good. Now drink up, it’s time we got started.”

Dave swallowed the dregs of his pint and they got up and headed for the car park. Dave recognised the Mercedes he’d seen outside Castle Combe and together they walked over to it. As they drove off into the countryside Dave glanced across; Jo drove with the same calm assurance with which she did everything and looked totally at home at the wheel of the expensive car. Twenty minutes or so later they pulled up at a large detached house on the outskirts of a small village. They swept up the drive and straight into the open garage. Jo clicked the button on a remote and the door closed behind them.

“Once you enter the house there’s no going back, you’re mine to do with what I will, I’ll expect total obedience and you’ll be punished if I don’t get it; if you’ve got any doubts you had better state them now.” Jo looked across at Dave who just nodded. “Ok, you won’t need your clothes; you’re to leave them out here and be naked before you enter the house. You’ll find a locker over in that corner. Get undressed and hang your clothes up in it and lock the door when you’re done. The only thing you will need is your wash kit. Everything else should be locked away. When you’ve finished bring the key to me.”

Jo got out of the car and, without further ado, headed for the house. His heart pumping and his stomach full of butterflies, Dave got out, went to the boot of the car, retrieved his overnight bag and found the locker. The key, which was in the lock, was attached to a fine chain. As he undressed and hung his clothes up he felt as if he were preparing himself. Outside the house he’d be dressed, he’d be Dave, he’d be a free man. Inside the house he would be naked and he’d be disowning his freedom. He was simultaneously nervous and excited. Would this, could this, live up to his expectations? Was he about to enter heaven, or hell? Despite his nerves, despite the bazaar circumstances of getting undressed in a strange garage, Dave could feel an anticipatory tingle in his groin and his penis was already responding. He finished undressing, turned the key in the lock and headed for the house.

The door from the garage opened into the kitchen where Mistress Joanne was waiting for him. She too had changed and was wearing a kimono similar to the one he’d seen her in back at Castle Combe.

“What took you so long?” She demanded.

“I’m sorry, Madam…” Dave started.

“Sorry! I don’t want to hear your pathetic excuses. Why aren’t you on your knees?”

Dave dropped to his knees.

“I’m sor…” he started again. Quick as a flash Mistress Joanne slapped him across the face causing him to tumble to the floor.

“I said I didn’t want to hear your excuses. Are you deaf as well as stupid. Do you want to be my slave? Well, do you?”

“Yes, please, Madam.”

“You haven’t got off to a very good start. You’re going to have to do much better than that if I’m to even begin considering training you. There are plenty of others out there, plenty who’d give anything to be where you are now and if you don’t make the grade you’re out, thrown out with the rubbish like the piece of dirt you are. Now, hand me the key.”

Dave passed the locker key to Mistress Joanne who hung it round her neck. The chain was just the right length to leave it dangling at the top of her cleavage. She then took his wash bag from him and laid it on the kitchen work surface.

“Hmm. We need to do something to keep this under control.” Mistress Joanne leant back against the work surface and prodded Dave’s penis with the toe of her high heeled shoe. “We can’t have it flopping about, we need some way to control it.”

As Mistress Joanne’s shoe played with Dave’s penis it started to stiffen, and, the more it stiffened, the more she played with it. Without thinking Dave opened his knees and pushed his groin forward to give her better access.

“Ooh, look who’s getting excited.” Mistress Joanne mocked. “Floor. Now!”

Dave lay on the floor and Mistress Joanne rested the sole of her shoe on Dave’s groin. Pushing quite hard she moved her foot in a circular motion as his penis stiffened beneath it.

“That’s where you belong, lying on the floor under the sole of my shoe, isn’t it? Do you think a real man would get excited grovelling at the foot of his Mistress? Of course not, but a pathetic little specimen like you,  a worm, a useless piece of trash, you just love it, don’t you?”

“Yes, Madam.” Dave almost whispered.

“I’ve been thinking about what to call you, what name would convey the disdain I feel for you.” Still Mistress Joanne’s foot worked at his penis. “I think I’ll call you piglet. That would suit a dirty little pervert like you. Ok, that’s enough.”

Mistress Joanne removed her foot and stood up. Dave, who had been close to coming, couldn’t stop a groan of disappointment.

“What’s that, piglet? Didn’t you want me to stop?” Mistress Joanne asked, her voice full of contempt.

“Please, Madam.” Dave begged.

“Please, what?” Mistress Joanne snapped back. She moved, placing her foot so that this time the sole of her shoe was across Dave’s mouth. “So soon, you’ve forgotten what I said. This is for my pleasure, not yours.” She increased the pressure on his face. “I will play with my toy as and when I want to; your job, your only job, is to be available for my pleasure. It looks like you could do with a little reminder of that. Follow me.”

She turned and left. Dave started to get up but realised in time that this would be a mistake so, keeping on his knees, he followed her into the living room. When they entered Mistress Joanne just pointed at a leather pouffe and Dave had the sense to position himself over it. She went over to a sideboard and picked up a wooden paddle that was lying on it.

As Mistress Joanne stood over Dave she noted that the marks from his last thrashing had almost disappeared. She’d mark him again later, give him some stripes to let him now where she’d been, but that would have to wait. However willing, however subservient, he would need some time to recover from a severe thrashing and, if she had all her fun now, it would leave nothing for later on. On the other hand the paddle wouldn’t do any real damage, just warm things up a bit.

Straddled across the pouffe as he was, Dave’s buttocks were well presented and Mistress Joanne could clearly see the puckered ring of his anus. It was a pity, Mistress Joanne mused to her self, that tails are so expensive. There’s something very satisfying about watching a man squirm as a well lubricated plug is pushed up his backside and she was almost certain that David was a virgin in that area as well. Furthermore, once fitted, there was something about the way a well filled bottom made the wearer waddle when he walked. Still, even without a tail available, there were plenty of butt plugs ready for use. That was another area he wouldn’t be staying a virgin for long.

She laid the paddle across his backside to get the position, drew it back and THWAPP!! Mistress Joanne loved the sound of a firm paddle across a well padded arse. Dave’s body jerked but he kept quiet. She could see that his penis was still fully erect and his wriggles were rubbing it against the leather of the pouffe. Well, so bit it; let him wriggle away. She wasn’t going to let him be like that long enough for it to do him any good and, the longer he was hard, the more frustrating he would find having it locked away.

THWAPP!! Dave squirmed as the paddle landed across his buttocks. Whilst it stung it was nowhere near as painful as the cane had been and the discomfort was countered by the feelings coming from his penis as he moved against the leather of the pouffe. THWAPP!! Another blow fell and, whether Mistress Joanne was striking harder, or his backside was getting more sensitive, the result was the same; the pain was more intense and it was all he could do to stop his hands flying back to protect himself. THWAPP!! Dave hands gripped the sides of the pouffe trying to control the pain. His eyes were full of tears and he had to grit his teeth to stop himself from crying out loud. THWAPP!! At the fourth stroke he lost control and a squeak of pain escaped him. The tears were flowing freely now and he no longer tried to pretend to be brave. THWAPP!! THWAPP!! For two more strokes all he could do was lie there and take what was coming to him.

Mistress Joanne put the paddle back on the sideboard and returned to stand over Dave. She gave him a few moments to get his breath back.

“Well, piglet, what do you say?” She asked at last.

“Thank you, Madam.” Dave replied.

“Good boy. Now it’s time you learnt how to say ‘thank you’ properly.” She went over to the sofa, undid the tie of her kimono, and opening it wide, sat down. “Come here, little boy.”

Dave shuffled over on his knees to kneel before her. Now that her kimono was open he could see that she was wearing a black lacy bra, matching French knickers, and a suspender belt holding up her stockings. She reached down and pulled the gusset of her knickers to one side revealing a well trimmed pubic mound and the lips of her vagina.

“Listen carefully, piglet. I don’t expect to have to repeat myself.”  Briefly she told Dave what was expected of him. Firstly she explained the mechanics, where the clitoris is, and how to caress it with his tongue, but then she went on to explain how he was not to rush things, how men always wanted to go straight to the clitoris whereas a more gentle, more circuitous approach was required. She explained how he should keep a steady rhythm, matching the intensity of his tongue to the mood of his Mistress, starting small and building to a climax.

“This might be the only time you’re allowed to tease your Mistress and get away with it.” She smiled. “Now let’s see if you’ve listened to what I’ve said.”

Dave leaned forward and kissed her just at the top of her vagina lips. Then gently, softly, he pushed them apart with his tongue. The taste and smell of an aroused woman, washed through him, intoxicating him and he felt a deep humility. All he wanted was to worship, to be allowed to serve, to be the instrument of her pleasure. Tenderly he eased the outer lips apart and, running his tongue along her inner lips, was rewarded by a sigh of pleasure. It was all so new that he took his time, exploring her with the tip of his tongue, working his way up, first one side and then the other, until he found the waiting bud of her clitoris and started work in earnest.

Despite his inexperience Dave’s desire to serve meant that he was keenly aware of every response from his Mistress. It wasn’t just the way her clitoris swelled beneath his tongue, rather it was the way he could feel the muscles in her legs and hips tense and relax, the way in which she moved so as to pull his face further into her groin. Gradually, wave upon wave, he felt her passion grow and he matched it by increasing the intensity of his licking. Her breathing was shallow, her muscles taught, his face was now locked between her thighs and he was close to suffocating, but he didn’t dare stop, he didn’t want to stop. He knew she was close, even a novice like him could tell, she arched her back, held off the sofa by her shoulders against the back and her heels dug into the carpet.

“Oh God, yes… yes… like that… don’t stop… don’t you dare… Oh yes… A bit harder… Oh, yes, yes… OH YES!” Mistress Joanne’s whole body tensed, every nerve as taught as a bowstring and then exploded. Dave felt his mouth fill as she flooded him with her climax. He tried hard to follow the thrashing body but once she’d had enough he was thrown aside, to lie on the floor awaiting whatever came next. For a minute or two there was silence,  the only sound in the room the ticking of the grandfather clock. Then Mistress Joanne roused herself from the sofa and sat up to look at Dave lying on the floor at her feet.

“Umm, piglet, what a good little boy you are.” She purred. She reached down and took Dave’s penis in her hand. Although it had become semi flaccid it immediately stiffened again as she played with it. Washed in her post orgasmic glow she was feeling relaxed and benign; not that she was going to let him come anytime soon, but she’d play with him for a while, get him nicely worked up. Anyway it amused her to have so much power over a man, to have him literally in the palm of her hand. What was the old saying? If you have them by the balls…Mistress Joanne was no novice at teasing and it wasn’t long before Dave’s penis was rock hard again and his balls felt like they we’re about to explode. She watched the expression on his face, and the glistening tip of his penis, getting him right to the edge time and time again before…

“Right, I can’t sit around all day doing nothing. We need to get you properly dressed. There’s a leather holdall in the closet next to the front door. Go and fetch it.”

Dave groaned in disappointment. Mistress Joanne’s fingers had felt wonderful and he had been on the brink of coming before she had so cruelly stopped. It took all he had not to grab himself and finish off the job but he knew how that would go down. Furthermore he was rapidly discovering just how much he loved being controlled, how the deep eroticism of the BDSM games, however frustrating in the short term, were far more satisfying than the instant relief of a quick wank. He got to his feet and went to fetch the holdall. When he returned Mistress Joanne told him to put it at her feet and go and stand by the pouffe with his legs apart. She then got him to lean over so that his hands were resting on its surface with his bottom uppermost, as if he were bent over to receive another punishment.

“Now then, what have we got that will suit a piglet like you.” Mistress Joanne rummaged about in the bag. “Yes, this will do, this will do nicely.”

She came up behind Dave and reached around his waist. He could feel a firm leather belt being pulled tight around his middle. He glanced backwards; there was the triangle of a leather pouch hanging from the belt, and a length of chain hung down from that. Obviously the chain was to be passed back between his legs holding the pouch in place but Mistress Joanne didn’t seem to be in any hurry; she was fussing with something from the bag. Then he felt it, the tip of a well lubricated dildo pushing against his anus. His natural reaction was to tense, to fight against it but Mistress Joanne was pushing firmly and his anus was yielding. Then the puckered ring of his sphincter parted and the dildo slipped inside, forcing him open.

“I don’t think I can…” Dave begun. The dildo felt huge inside him and his natural reflex was to try and expel it.

“Silence!” Mistress Joanne snapped back and gave the dildo another firm thrust. Then she reached down and grabbed the chain dangling between his legs. She threaded it through a hole at the base of the dildo and, pulling the chain up between his buttocks, and fastened it tightly to the belt where they met in the small of his back. Now that the pouch was on Dave could appreciate both how tightly it held his penis, crushing it against his groin, and how the chain between his buttocks held the dildo, preventing it from slipping in, or out. He had no idea how big it actually was, but it felt enormous inside him, filling him up and holding his sphincter wide open. It was an odd sensation, simultaneously uncomfortable and erotic. Part of him wanted it removed, part of him wanted it there, and part of him wondered what it would feel like to be taken, to have the dildo thrust back and forwards. Would he love it? Would he hate it? Could he even take it?

Leaving him still bent over Mistress Joanne fitted wrist and ankle cuffs, each fitted with a small padlock.

“That’s better. Now go upstairs and run me bath.”

Dave went upstairs, waddling to try to minimise the discomfort from the dildo. He found the bathroom, went to the bath and turned on the taps. Whilst it was filling he experimented with the pouch. As he suspected, the chains were locked together by a yet another padlock; there was no way he could remove it without the key. He could, if he tried hard enough, just slip his fingers under the leather pouch, but it was too tight for him to do anything once he had done so. Furthermore, he was stuck if he needed to use the toilet. He reached behind him and examined the end of the dildo with his fingers. The chain held it quite tightly but he was going to have to be careful if he sat down. There wasn’t that much sticking out but, even so, if he sat down quickly what little there was would be thrust inside him.

He tested the water and was busy adjusting the taps when Mistress Joanne arrived. Without even glancing at Dave she slipped out of her kimono, removed her panties, bra, stockings and shoes and got into the bath. Dave was stunned; the nearest he’d got to a naked woman before had been the centrefold of some magazines passed round at school. But it wasn’t just that; it was the matter-of-fact way in which Mistress Joanne had stripped off, with no shyness, no reserve, no false modesty. It was as if she knew how beautiful she was, as if she knew how much Dave just wanted to bow down and worship, as if she knew that his worship was her right, her due.

“Stop gawping, there’s a sponge over there, get on with it.”

Dave realised that Mistress Joanne was expecting him to wash her. He took the sponge and the soap and set to work. Just as before he had been worshipping with his tongue, now he was to worship with the sponge. His natural instinct was to head straight for the groin or her breasts but he remembered what she had said about taking his time, about not charging in like a bull in a china shop. Anyway, he was supposed to be washing her and any erotic aspect was supposed to be accidental. With this in mind he lathered up the sponge and lifted her foot out of the water.

Mistress Joanne lay back and luxuriated in the hot water. Once again David was showing a sensitivity, an understanding, far beyond his years and experience. Counter to her expectations he was not rushing between her legs or pummelling her breasts, but he’d lifted her leg clear of the water and was tenderly washing her calves. As he refreshed the sponge he rested it on her knee making cascades of warm water ran down the inside of her thigh causing the most delicious tingles.

Dave was busy discovering just how erotic bathing a woman can be. Despite the fact that he was almost making a point of not concentrating on her breasts or groin he could tell that his ministrations were turning Mistress Joanne on. He did his best to make his actions tender and sensual, to let the sponge caress her skin, to make the bathing sumptuous rather than functional. To his surprise he found that washing her arms seemed particularly effective, judging by the sighs she was making; but again he made sure that he kept within moderation.

Mistress Joanne was loving every minute of it. Once again David was exceeding expectations. He was proving to be sensitive and caring. Most slaves, in her experience, had been totally fixated on their own pleasure and would have spent the entire bath groping her. David, on the other hand, was treating her like fine porcelain and the tender touch of the sponge against her skin was deeply thrilling and giving her an itch that demanded scratching. However, it was still early and she wanted to string this along as far as possible. Anyway the water was getting cold. Pushing Dave away she stood up and got out of the bath.

On Mistress Joanne’s instruction Dave fetched a towel from the heated rail and, starting at the shoulders, towelled her dry. As he worked his way down her body he was struck once more by how beautiful she was, her body firm and statuesque, and, when he was finished and kneeling at her feet, it seemed only natural to lean forward and kiss them. For a few moments Mistress Joanne indulged him before pushing him away.

“Look at the state of this bathroom. I want it spotless. And these clothes need hand washing. You’ll find what you need in the utility room next to the kitchen.” Mistress Joanne reached for a dressing gown which hung on the back of the bathroom door, slipped it on and left.

Dave knelt up and looked around the bathroom. There had inevitably been some splashing and the floor, as well as the bath, would need cleaning. And then there were the clothes to wash; he’d never done anything like that before, shoving his boxers in a washing machine was about his limit, but it looked like he was going to have to learn. He stood up and started on his chores. As he searched in the cupboard under the sink for cleaning materials he could feel the dildo filling his back passage, his prick and balls, so cruelly denied release, were crushed by the tight pouch and, ominously, he could feel a growing need to urinate. These discomforts, along with his nakedness, were a constant reinforcement of his status as Mistress Joanne’s slave; it wasn’t the tasks he was told to do, it was the way in which he had to do them. He wondered how long he was going to be kept like this and whether the next step would remove these discomforts. Somehow he expected the opposite.