Back in the 1960s and 70s a French artist by the name of Joseph Farrel created a sizeable number of BDSM drawings.  He felt that the drawings were works in themselves and that people should make up their own stories to go with them.  Later the drawings were published with short vignettes by Robert Merodack and others.  Joseph Farrel is sadly now dead and much of his work is out of print.

For my own amusement I have written my own short stories to accompany some of the drawings.  Here is one of them.  Let me know what you think.

THE CORNER

Not so long ago it was bad pupils that were sent to sit in the corner, with or without a dunce cap.  But in the more modern world of today it is teachers that are sent.  Miranda had had just this kind of distressing experience. 

The wealthy and eccentric Griffith family had engaged her a few months before to teach their son, Henry, who had been expelled from school for inappropriate behaviour.  She quickly found out that the Griffiths were quite extreme in their behaviour.  Miranda's little girl, Louise, who lived with her as a condition of her employment, was quickly made into Henry's whipping girl.

One morning Miranda severely reprimanded the boy who, in truth, preferred aggravating the little girl to studying.  The situation soon turned nasty.  Miranda for once allowed herself to lose her temper and dished out a powerful smack to the indolent brat.  The crime of lese-majesty!  The seething family met to decide on the most appropriate punishment for the teacher.

She was given a choice: leave the house immediately with her daughter and her belongings and without a reference thus losing her shelter and her employment, or have the terms of her contract altered to allow the Griffiths to discipline her as they saw fit.  Absolutely terrified, but thinking only of her daughter the governess had chosen the latter, not giving a thought to what ‘discipline’ might mean.  She was sent straight upstairs by Mrs Griffith and instructed to shave off all traces of pubic hair.  Terrified, she obeyed.

A little later she was descended to the drawing room where she was confronted by a ghastly looking device, which had been placed in the corner of the living room by Mr Griffith.

“For your bad manners this morning you will sit nicely in the corner for two hours on your new stool.”

Sobbing and humiliated, Miranda did not believe her eyes, but did not dare to refuse.

“Completely naked!” Mrs Griffith added. “Take that cheap dress off now!”

“And Louise can help tie her mummy’s hands behind her back,” squealed the hideous Henry, who still liked playing cowboys and Indians.

The pale seemed huge to poor Miranda, and indeed it was! 

“How... how am I meant to sit on that?” stammered the young woman as she slowly pulled off her dress, unveiling her firm breasts with big nipples hardened with fear.

“As today is your first time on your stool you may take it up your slutty cunt,” said Mr Griffith in a deceptively gentle voice.  “If you say ‘please’ I’ll even let you grease it, we wouldn’t want you getting stuck half way down!”

“Oh! Oh!  That's really going to hurt Mummy,” whined the little girl, thinking of her own tiny treasures opened by such a monster.

“Watch out we don't do the same to you!” sniggered the little boy as he viciously pulled up Louise's skirt and fondled her tiny little arse.

In a grotesque parody of masturbation Miranda greased the terrible pole before slowly lowering herself onto it.  Whinnying and gasping she slowly and carefully put her weight down so that the giant object slid up into her poor pussy.  With her hands bound it was so difficult to balance.

“The two hours does not begin till you are completely seated,” sneered Mrs Griffith.

After what seemed like forever she felt the seat beneath her and stopped.  She could not believe how full she felt.  It was beyond all belief, if she hadn’t had a child it would never have fit.  Miranda burst into tears.

Mrs Griffith giggled and sneered as she buckled the strap to keep the governess in place for the next two hours.  “My dear, this is now your personal stool and it is to be used at all mealtimes and while you are teaching.”

“Now, at breakfast and dinner you will have to take the pole between your buttocks, into your arsehole!  Believe me, it is really going to stretch open your hot little backside!  And as we are not cruel we do not expect you to be able to accommodate the full length up your arse for at least a fortnight.  At lunch you may have it in your cunt for a change and as a treat.  If there is any more trouble from you then the privilege of lubrication will be withdrawn.  I imagine that after a month or so your arsehole will accommodate it quite easily, until then you’ll have to put up with some discomfort.  But as you teachers say ‘no gain without pain’.”

“At the start of the day’s lessons you will ask Henry which hole he prefers you to utilise.  When you are fully seated, he will strap you down so that the post remains completely inserted until the lessons are done.  If you fail to cooperate fully he has our permission to attach a clothespin to your clitoris for the remainder of the session.”

Aghast, Miranda would have tried to rise except that the strap held her firmly in place. 

“No!  No!  You can’t be serious!  I won’t let you. I want to go!”

“I am afraid you’ve signed the revised contract now.  If you decide to renege then we will be forced to release the pictures Mr Griffith is about to take to your family and the public.  I do not think that will help your career.”

“Next Saturday we are having a garden party with a barbecue for our friends and the neighbours.  We think that you and your perch will make a super display and conversation piece!  By that time I expect your arsehole should at least have started to accommodate its new friend, you'll see!”

By that Saturday Miranda had learned not to struggle against her unpleasant fate.  Henry had taken malicious pleasure in attaching the fearsome clothespin to her clitoris at the slightest sign of rebellion.  And if she didn’t rebel easily he simply tormented her until she did something against the rules.  Then came the appalling clip, over and over again.  In the end she learnt not to react at all.  Friday afternoon found her on the pole in the classroom.  Henry had chosen her arsehole for this session and about half the object could by then be accommodated in her backside.  When she declined to stick her tongue in his anus he calmly fixed on the clothespin and sat down to watch his teacher squirm.  She was still required to teach of course!

For the garden party Miranda had her perch placed on a low table in the shade of an apple tree in the large garden.  This way all the many guests could admire the interesting conversation piece.  Many of the throng fondled and teased her.  As her hands were bound behind her she was unable to resist these further indignities in any way.  The belt ensured that she was unable to lift her bottom off the pale, about half of which had entered her poor suffering rectum.

Part way through this terrible ordeal she saw Mr Griffith approaching carrying a stepladder and a pair of ropes.  With help from the other guests the ropes were slung over well spread branches and tied to Miranda’s ankles.  In this way on Mrs Griffith’s signal her legs could be tugged out from under her and pulled wide apart before being tied off.  Now all of the poor woman’s weight was on the terrible perch.  Miranda’s wails informed everyone of how very uncomfortable this was.

“That should help you sit down properly, my dear.  I feel you haven’t been putting in enough effort to train yourself properly,” said her mistress.

The teacher slid slowly down the rod, though by keeping as still as possible she stopped the progress from being to the party’s satisfaction.  Mrs Griffiths had just the thing to speed up the process.  She sent Henry inside and in moments he reappeared with a big bowl full of clothespins.

“No, not that!  Anything but that!  NOOOOH!”

One by one the guests took a clip each and affixed it to their despairing victim.  Breasts, thighs, nipples and labia were soon festooned with the wooden pegs.  Miranda squirmed uncontrollably, speeding up her horrendous impalement.  Finally through her tears she saw young Henry approaching waving the last clothespin.

“NOOO!  Oh please, no!  I beg you!  Please don’t Henry!”

“Guess where this goes, Miss Miranda?”  The little boy had a wicked grin on his face.

“No!  Oh no!  You can’t!”

“Guess right and I might not put it on.  Come on Miss Miranda.”  Henry flexed the clip in front of her face.

“My clit…  It goes on my clitoris.  But please don’t put it on.  Please…”

“Right guess!  But I’m still going put it on!”

“NOOOOooo…”

Henry approached his teacher.  The effect of the bound and spread legs and the clips on her labia (five or six each side) meant that Miranda’s clitoris was completely exposed, standing out as a little red nub, hardened by pain and terror.  The lad affixed the clip so as to cause maximum pain (he had previously tested each peg to find the one with the strongest spring).

“NAAAAGGGH!  Ohmigod!  Please!  IT’S IMPOSSIBLE!” Miranda was spasming with pain.  Her bottom was bouncing up and down on the pole as she clenched her agonised muscles involuntarily.  In what seemed like no time to the guests, but an eternity to the poor woman, her bottom touched down on the base to the perch. 

Mrs Griffiths tightened the belt so that Miranda remained immobile.  The guests were invited to remove their pegs and the ropes were removed.  Finally Henry took off the last peg, roughly tugging it off Miranda’s clit; thereby causing so much pain that she actually briefly fainted.

When she came to she saw Mrs Griffiths with a vibrator in her hand.  For the remainder of the party the guests took turns applying this to the teacher’s nipples and clitoris.  Despite the amazing discomfort in her anus poor Miranda came over and over again, her poor sensitised body unable to resist the maddening stimulation.