Charmed
Category: fairy tale
Once upon a time…
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| She decided on “Whiney” in the end. It seemed appropriate. |
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| My SO can do that. Just a few swishes of her magic wand and the housework begins – all without her lifting a finger. |
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| Ribbit |
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| Actually, that’s not true. There was a woodman – still is, actually, somewhere. I expect she’s got her reasons for keeping him hidden. |
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| Some day her Prince will come. You’ll be in the cucky cupboard when he does, obviously. |
…and they all… well, almost all of them, the ones that mattered anyway… lived happily ever after.
The Princess and the penis
Once upon a time there was a Prince who was handsome, witty,
kind and clever. He was heir to a prosperous Kingdom, where the people were
happy and peaceful. The King and Queen
owned many palaces, all of them gleaming with marble, with cellars full
of gold and silver, with jewels beyond count. Truly, the Prince was the
luckiest man alive except for one thing: he had a laughably small penis.
kind and clever. He was heir to a prosperous Kingdom, where the people were
happy and peaceful. The King and Queen
owned many palaces, all of them gleaming with marble, with cellars full
of gold and silver, with jewels beyond count. Truly, the Prince was the
luckiest man alive except for one thing: he had a laughably small penis.
When he was born, the court physician had
noticed how tiny the royal todger appeared to be even for a baby. But he reassured the King and Queen that all
would be well, when the Prince hit puberty.
Yet puberty came and went, and by the time he was 20, the Prince still
had a cock little larger than he had when he was a baby, although now it stood
up stiffly like a drawing pin whenever the Prince got excited – which was often.
noticed how tiny the royal todger appeared to be even for a baby. But he reassured the King and Queen that all
would be well, when the Prince hit puberty.
Yet puberty came and went, and by the time he was 20, the Prince still
had a cock little larger than he had when he was a baby, although now it stood
up stiffly like a drawing pin whenever the Prince got excited – which was often.
The heir to a Kingdom needs an heir of his own, so the King
and Queen were anxious to marry their only son off as early as possible. Beautiful princesses came from lands far and
near, but all had heard about the Prince’s little problem and all wanted to see
it before becoming betrothed. Soon
enough, peals of girlish royal laughter would ring out through the palace, and
the courtiers would hang their heads in despair, as yet another royal carriage
rattled hastily away out of the palace gates, bearing a still-giggly princess
in the back.
and Queen were anxious to marry their only son off as early as possible. Beautiful princesses came from lands far and
near, but all had heard about the Prince’s little problem and all wanted to see
it before becoming betrothed. Soon
enough, peals of girlish royal laughter would ring out through the palace, and
the courtiers would hang their heads in despair, as yet another royal carriage
rattled hastily away out of the palace gates, bearing a still-giggly princess
in the back.
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| They say it is a rare man who can always make a woman laugh. The Prince was such a man. |
What were they to do?
As word spread of the Prince’s embarrassing condition, the Kingdom
became known as ‘the Kingdom of the Prince with the laughably small penis’. From the lowliest beggar to the mightiest
baron, all of the real men in the Kingdom, sporting perfectly adequate tackle,
found that they were thought by foreigners to have nothing worth speaking of
between their legs – and the women of the Kingdom had to fend off foreign men
eager to give them the pork stuffing that they were assumed to be lacking.
As word spread of the Prince’s embarrassing condition, the Kingdom
became known as ‘the Kingdom of the Prince with the laughably small penis’. From the lowliest beggar to the mightiest
baron, all of the real men in the Kingdom, sporting perfectly adequate tackle,
found that they were thought by foreigners to have nothing worth speaking of
between their legs – and the women of the Kingdom had to fend off foreign men
eager to give them the pork stuffing that they were assumed to be lacking.
But the years went by, and the King and Queen despaired of
ever finding a beautiful Princess to whom they could wed their darling son,
with his dainty dangling ding-dong.
ever finding a beautiful Princess to whom they could wed their darling son,
with his dainty dangling ding-dong.
Then one day, a carriage drew up in the courtyard with a
clattering and a rattling that roused the whole palace. This was unusual in
itself, since it had been years since any princesses visited. More unusual still, the driver and footmen –
footpeople – on the carriage were all women.
Usually, princesses were accompanied by handsome young men, who would
sit making gestures towards their ample, bulging trouser treasure, while the Princess
was inside trying to control her laughter. Yet this carriage was accompanied
only by tall, rather serious-looking women.
clattering and a rattling that roused the whole palace. This was unusual in
itself, since it had been years since any princesses visited. More unusual still, the driver and footmen –
footpeople – on the carriage were all women.
Usually, princesses were accompanied by handsome young men, who would
sit making gestures towards their ample, bulging trouser treasure, while the Princess
was inside trying to control her laughter. Yet this carriage was accompanied
only by tall, rather serious-looking women.
One got down and opened the door, shouting out “Her Highness
the Crown Princess of Femlandia!”. And
down from the carriage emerged a young lady of rare beauty and still rarer
richness of garment, whose countenance was sterner still than those of her
minionettes. She looked around her, with
a bored and faintly contemptuous expression.
the Crown Princess of Femlandia!”. And
down from the carriage emerged a young lady of rare beauty and still rarer
richness of garment, whose countenance was sterner still than those of her
minionettes. She looked around her, with
a bored and faintly contemptuous expression.
“Where’s little dick, then?” she enquired of no one in
particular.
particular.
“Erm… our son prefers to go by his given name of Richard”
puffed the King, who had come running out of the palace to greet his guest.
puffed the King, who had come running out of the palace to greet his guest.
“Where’s little dick Richard, then?” the Princess asked,
fixing his watery blue eyes with a level stare from her pools of steel grey.
fixing his watery blue eyes with a level stare from her pools of steel grey.
“Er… well, there…” the King began, pointing feebly towards
the South Eastern tower of the palace, but the Princess and several of her
entourage had already swept off and were entering the building.
the South Eastern tower of the palace, but the Princess and several of her
entourage had already swept off and were entering the building.
In his room, Prince Richard was sitting quietly in the
gloom, feeling sad and useless, as he often did. Had it been 700 years later, he would
probably have been wanking around to no purpose on the Internet, but in those
benighted days there was nothing better to do when wasting time than watch the
dust-motes dancing in sunbeams, so this was what he was doing.
gloom, feeling sad and useless, as he often did. Had it been 700 years later, he would
probably have been wanking around to no purpose on the Internet, but in those
benighted days there was nothing better to do when wasting time than watch the
dust-motes dancing in sunbeams, so this was what he was doing.
There was a peremptory knock and the Princess swept in,
accompanied by two tall blonde courtiers, dressed in military regalia and
sporting swords.
accompanied by two tall blonde courtiers, dressed in military regalia and
sporting swords.
“Who… who are you?” stammered Prince Richard, which was odd
because he had not previously had a speech impediment of any kind.
because he had not previously had a speech impediment of any kind.
“Princess Valerie of Femlandia” came the curt response.
“Here to inspect the goods. Trousers
down.”
“Here to inspect the goods. Trousers
down.”
“Er… Princess, you realise… of course… that I don’t really
have much to – “ began Richard, wondering where on earth that stammer had come
from.
have much to – “ began Richard, wondering where on earth that stammer had come
from.
“Not something that really bothers me, to be honest”, the Princess
replied, smiling slightly at one of the female soldiers at her side, who
blushed and returned the smile more fully.
replied, smiling slightly at one of the female soldiers at her side, who
blushed and returned the smile more fully.
“But it’s as well to see what I’m getting. Trousers down –
or my guards here will take them down for you.”
or my guards here will take them down for you.”
The Prince reluctantly did as he was bidden, and stood
there, his legs illuminated by a sunbeam. There was silence in the room, which
was eventually broken by the Princess.
there, his legs illuminated by a sunbeam. There was silence in the room, which
was eventually broken by the Princess.
“And the pants”, she snapped. “Obviously.
Moron.”
Moron.”
The Prince hurriedly lowered his pants as well.
As it was dark in the room all three women leant forward for
a closer look and at almost exactly the same time, both of the female soldiers
burst out laughing.
a closer look and at almost exactly the same time, both of the female soldiers
burst out laughing.
“Oh shush!” the Princess tutted, but smiled herself and was
obviously not really cross with the two blonde warriors, who stifled their
giggles and brought themselves to a semblance of attention.
obviously not really cross with the two blonde warriors, who stifled their
giggles and brought themselves to a semblance of attention.
“Better” nodded the Princess, patting one of them gently on
the bottom, and stepped forward, bringing out a magnifying glass that she had
thoughtfully provided for herself, and examined the matter at hand more
closely.
the bottom, and stepped forward, bringing out a magnifying glass that she had
thoughtfully provided for herself, and examined the matter at hand more
closely.
“Hmmm” she said, then spoke no more for several
minutes.
minutes.
She reached out and roughly grabbed the Prince’s hair, jerking
his head forward so that he was staring directly at her milky and ample (but
not excessive) bosom. Then she let go,
and continued her magnified examination.
The Princely prick had become erect and had doubled in size to almost
nothing at all.
his head forward so that he was staring directly at her milky and ample (but
not excessive) bosom. Then she let go,
and continued her magnified examination.
The Princely prick had become erect and had doubled in size to almost
nothing at all.
“Hmmm” she said again and then sighed.
“Pretty much as expected, I suppose.”
“But… but you’re not laughing?” prompted the Prince.
Princess Valerie shook her head decisively.
“Don’t have much of a sense of humour, really. Everyone says so. Especially where men are concerned” and an
expression of contempt came over her face, and her hand involuntarily jerked
slightly, as if flicking a conductor’s baton, or perhaps a riding whip.
expression of contempt came over her face, and her hand involuntarily jerked
slightly, as if flicking a conductor’s baton, or perhaps a riding whip.
She clasped both hands behind her back and stared straight
into the Prince’s face.
into the Prince’s face.
“Would you like it to be… bigger? To feel like there’s more down there?”
“Oh… oh yes, Princess”, stammered the Prince wondering if he
had somehow been cursed to repeat the first word of every sentence he spoke for
the rest of his life.
had somehow been cursed to repeat the first word of every sentence he spoke for
the rest of his life.
The Princess smiled a mirthless smile.
“I can fix things so you have more down there than you even
want. That you’ll be wishing for it to be smaller… would you like me to do that?”
want. That you’ll be wishing for it to be smaller… would you like me to do that?”
“Oh, oh yes please Princess Valerie”, the Prince replied. “I’d like that more than anything in the
world. I’d do anything.”
world. I’d do anything.”
“Good” the Princess, said.
“Marry me.”
“Marry me.”
“According to the traditional customs of Femlandia, obviously”
she added.
she added.
“The, erm.. traditional customs of Femlandia?” the Prince
quavered. “I’ve heard those are, well, that they’re… rather strict. To men, anyway.”
quavered. “I’ve heard those are, well, that they’re… rather strict. To men, anyway.”
“Strict enough.” nodded the Princess. “Men deserve it, I find. Look: do you want an inconveniently large
cock or not? Also – and I might not have
mentioned this – when we rule here together, your penis will be the largest in
the palace. Would you like that, too?”
cock or not? Also – and I might not have
mentioned this – when we rule here together, your penis will be the largest in
the palace. Would you like that, too?”
“Yes – oh yes, Princess, please” implored the Prince. “Are you going to going to perform a magic
spell?”
spell?”
“It’s more in the nature of a magical ring” replied the Princess,
holding her hand out for a shiny metal object that one of her guards handed
her.
holding her hand out for a shiny metal object that one of her guards handed
her.
“Legs apart”
She busied herself with the device, while the Prince gasped
at the touch of cold metal and instantly felt his prick soften back to its
previous (almost microscopic) size.
at the touch of cold metal and instantly felt his prick soften back to its
previous (almost microscopic) size.
“Is it a magical ring from your own country of Femlandia?”,
he enquired, trying not to wince as he felt sharp pains and a weight as from a
thick band of iron tugging at his nonentity.
he enquired, trying not to wince as he felt sharp pains and a weight as from a
thick band of iron tugging at his nonentity.
“Not exactly”, the Princess replied, working away with an
allen key (she was a well-equipped Princess, as befitted someone who was the
tyrannical honorary leader of the boy scouts movement of Femlandia). “You might
say it’s from the far-off fabled land of Hind.
It’s called a Kali’s Teeth bracelet.
There – it’s done.”
allen key (she was a well-equipped Princess, as befitted someone who was the
tyrannical honorary leader of the boy scouts movement of Femlandia). “You might
say it’s from the far-off fabled land of Hind.
It’s called a Kali’s Teeth bracelet.
There – it’s done.”
She stood back up and gazed down at her handiwork. The Prince’s
little disappointment was almost entirely invisible for real this time, swathed
as it was in a thick band of iron, studded with… well, studs. The weight of it pulled down uncomfortably,
but it was not as uncomfortable as the sharp pins digging into the tender
flesh.
little disappointment was almost entirely invisible for real this time, swathed
as it was in a thick band of iron, studded with… well, studs. The weight of it pulled down uncomfortably,
but it was not as uncomfortable as the sharp pins digging into the tender
flesh.
“Errr” the price started, but his hair was grabbed roughly
once more and his face jerked forwards, this time actually being pressed down
into the Princess’s own warm, soft bosom.
One of the guards looked slightly offended, but stared straight ahead.
once more and his face jerked forwards, this time actually being pressed down
into the Princess’s own warm, soft bosom.
One of the guards looked slightly offended, but stared straight ahead.
Inevitably things started to grow as the Prince felt a surge
of excitement and then – a sharp, stabbing pain in his tenderest parts! And another!
And another! As the Princess rubbed his face across her bosom, his nose
pressing down deep into her cleavage, the Prince felt as if every nerve in his
stiffening member was screaming the same song of agony.
of excitement and then – a sharp, stabbing pain in his tenderest parts! And another!
And another! As the Princess rubbed his face across her bosom, his nose
pressing down deep into her cleavage, the Prince felt as if every nerve in his
stiffening member was screaming the same song of agony.
A shriek came out of his mouth and he collapsed to the
floor.
floor.
“Make it stop! Oh
please, please make it stop!” he gasped,
please, please make it stop!” he gasped,
The Princess kneeled down beside him.
“It’ll stop when you’re smaller again” she murmured.
“Oh!” moaned the Prince, in torment “Oh how I wish my penis
were smaller””
were smaller””
“It will be,” nodded the Princess, standing back up.
A few minutes later the Prince stood before her again,
panting slightly and brushing the tears from his cheeks.
panting slightly and brushing the tears from his cheeks.
“See?” the Princess enquired, brightly. “You wished for it to be smaller.”
“Well, in a manner of speaking” the Prince grumbled, feeling
that something was not quite right.
that something was not quite right.
“So now you marry me” added the Princess.
The Prince drew himself up to his full height and spoke with
as much dignity as is possible, with a tear-stained face and a heavy spiked
ring fastened to your genitals.
as much dignity as is possible, with a tear-stained face and a heavy spiked
ring fastened to your genitals.
“Certainly not.” he sniffed. “It was a trick.”
The Princess sighed and nodded to one of her guards, who
saluted and left the chamber, closing the door behind her. The tall blonde soldier stood outside for
fifteen minutes, as various strange sounds – thuds, and cracks and moans and
cries – emanated from within, but stood fast, preventing any of the curious
courtiers from gaining access to find out what was going on.
saluted and left the chamber, closing the door behind her. The tall blonde soldier stood outside for
fifteen minutes, as various strange sounds – thuds, and cracks and moans and
cries – emanated from within, but stood fast, preventing any of the curious
courtiers from gaining access to find out what was going on.
Eventually the door was flung open and the second guard
announced “Her Royal Highness the Crown Princess of Femlandia and her Prince
Consort-to-be”
announced “Her Royal Highness the Crown Princess of Femlandia and her Prince
Consort-to-be”
Out strode Princess Valerie, accompanied by a shuffling,
shambling Prince Richard.
shambling Prince Richard.
The King and Queen looked up in shock from the bottom of the
steps.
steps.
“Betrothed.” Princess Valerie informed them, smugly.
“According to the traditional customs of Femlandia”
“According to the traditional customs of Femlandia”
“I can see that” muttered the King, as the Prince raised his
head slightly to expose a heavy iron collar, with a chain sneaking off towards
the Princess’s left hand. “I’ve heard about those traditions of yours.”
head slightly to expose a heavy iron collar, with a chain sneaking off towards
the Princess’s left hand. “I’ve heard about those traditions of yours.”
“Richard!” the Queen called up sharply. “Do you consent to this?”
The Prince consort-to-be glanced at his fiancée, who nodded
imperceptibly.
imperceptibly.
“Yes mama”, he replied, dejectedly. “I made a deal. She… did something that made me, well, made
me uncomfortably large. You know. Down there.”
me uncomfortably large. You know. Down there.”
“I can see that,
too!” exclaimed the King, as a heavy cylindrical object distorted the line of
the Prince’s trousers. “Wow!”
too!” exclaimed the King, as a heavy cylindrical object distorted the line of
the Prince’s trousers. “Wow!”
“Well, my boy, we must begin the celebrations
immediately! Let the word go out to all
four quarters of the Kingdom that the lovely Princess, er… the lovely Princess..?”
immediately! Let the word go out to all
four quarters of the Kingdom that the lovely Princess, er… the lovely Princess..?”
But the lovely Princess and her followers – a word that now
includes young Richard – were heading to her coach. The Princess climbed straight in, leaving
Richard to be secured to the side by his collar.
includes young Richard – were heading to her coach. The Princess climbed straight in, leaving
Richard to be secured to the side by his collar.
“Goodbye dearest mother-to-be!” she called out. “And you,
too”, she added with a look of disgust at the King.
too”, she added with a look of disgust at the King.
“But, but… you will return, will you not?” the King gasped.
“Of course!” she called out, drawing her head back inside
the coach and giving the signal to move off.
The horses started to turn the carriage around, and Richard jogged
around with it.
the coach and giving the signal to move off.
The horses started to turn the carriage around, and Richard jogged
around with it.
“But when?” both
parents wailed, at exactly the same time.
parents wailed, at exactly the same time.
“When you’re DEAD, obviously!” came the cry from within, and
the whips cracked over the horses (accidentally catching Richard a nasty cut
across the shoulder) and the carriage lurched out of the courtyard, the heir to
the Kingdom desperately galloping alongside.
the whips cracked over the horses (accidentally catching Richard a nasty cut
across the shoulder) and the carriage lurched out of the courtyard, the heir to
the Kingdom desperately galloping alongside.
….
Several years passed. The King and Queen grew old before their
time, worn down by the cares their inadequately-equipped son had brought
them. Rich men, well aware of what
Femlandian rule would bring, paid for the finest medical experts to come and
treat them, but in a few years the Queen had died of sorrow and the King was on
his deathbed.
time, worn down by the cares their inadequately-equipped son had brought
them. Rich men, well aware of what
Femlandian rule would bring, paid for the finest medical experts to come and
treat them, but in a few years the Queen had died of sorrow and the King was on
his deathbed.
Some attempts had been made to prepare the Kingdom for
Femlandian rule. There was a woman prime minister (but she wasn’t very good,
being neither strong nor stable) and many businesses had been made over to
female ownership. In schools, girls were educated in sciences and business,
while boys were taught needlework, cooking and how to simper attractively.
Femlandian rule. There was a woman prime minister (but she wasn’t very good,
being neither strong nor stable) and many businesses had been made over to
female ownership. In schools, girls were educated in sciences and business,
while boys were taught needlework, cooking and how to simper attractively.
Nonetheless, all men knew that the rule of Empress Valerie
the Vicious and Cruel of Femlandia would bring an end to the fair and happy
land they had known all their lives. The
stories coming out of the Empire were too alarming not to take seriously, and
after all, men told one another, any empress who chose for herself the moniker ‘the vicious and cruel’ was probably no
pussycat.
the Vicious and Cruel of Femlandia would bring an end to the fair and happy
land they had known all their lives. The
stories coming out of the Empire were too alarming not to take seriously, and
after all, men told one another, any empress who chose for herself the moniker ‘the vicious and cruel’ was probably no
pussycat.
But despite the best efforts of his physicians, the King
wasted and died. And a few days later, the armies of Femlandia invaded,
receiving the surrender of the local militia forces with little mercy, much
brutality and a moderate amount of violent sexual abuse.
wasted and died. And a few days later, the armies of Femlandia invaded,
receiving the surrender of the local militia forces with little mercy, much
brutality and a moderate amount of violent sexual abuse.
The same carriage swept back into the same courtyard, now
decorated with the brutal red, white and black symbol of Her Imperial Highness,
Empress Valerie the Vicious and Cruel, Oppressor of the Western Isles, Scourge
of the Northern Wastes and Terror of the Eastern Deserts, to give her her full
title. And trotting along at the side of
the carriage, the Prince Consort: older, considerably more scarred and with Her Imperial sigil burned proudly into his flesh – but still recognisably Prince
Richard.
decorated with the brutal red, white and black symbol of Her Imperial Highness,
Empress Valerie the Vicious and Cruel, Oppressor of the Western Isles, Scourge
of the Northern Wastes and Terror of the Eastern Deserts, to give her her full
title. And trotting along at the side of
the carriage, the Prince Consort: older, considerably more scarred and with Her Imperial sigil burned proudly into his flesh – but still recognisably Prince
Richard.
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| Branding can be tricky but even an Empress will always prefer to do it herself, for that personal touch. |
The Empress descended again and gazed around her with fierce
joy.
joy.
“I made you one other promise, maggot!” she called to her
long-suffering (oh, but she’d barely started) husband. “Do you recall?”
long-suffering (oh, but she’d barely started) husband. “Do you recall?”
He looked confused, and shook his head sorrowfully.
Empress Valerie laughed.
Do you recall her
promise, reader? Not merely that he would have a penis that was uncomfortably
large. That he acquired the very day he met his wife-to-be, and had
still, as the bracelet of the Goddess Kali had not left his flesh since that
fateful day.
promise, reader? Not merely that he would have a penis that was uncomfortably
large. That he acquired the very day he met his wife-to-be, and had
still, as the bracelet of the Goddess Kali had not left his flesh since that
fateful day.
No, the Princess had
also promised that when she and her blushing bridegroom finally reigned
together (in a manner of speaking) that he would have the largest penis in the
palace. Do you remember that now,
dear reader? Because there will be a test.
And consequences.
also promised that when she and her blushing bridegroom finally reigned
together (in a manner of speaking) that he would have the largest penis in the
palace. Do you remember that now,
dear reader? Because there will be a test.
And consequences.
And the Empress, as she now was, always kept her
promises. When she wanted to, anyway.
promises. When she wanted to, anyway.
“Lock the palace gates” the Empress called. “And summon the Imperial Gelding Squadron”.
She looked around the courtyard, at the men standing, or kneeling… mute, anxious, frightened. She smiled, in satisfaction.
“They have work to do.”
And they all lived happi… well, not all of them, obviously,
but some of them were happy, I
suppose, some of the women anyway, and, look, She certainly lived very, very Happily Ever After, OK? And that is what matters.
but some of them were happy, I
suppose, some of the women anyway, and, look, She certainly lived very, very Happily Ever After, OK? And that is what matters.
The End.
This isn’t a Valerie and Sandra story, but the Empress’s personality has a bit of ‘Valerie’ so I gave Her that name for old-times sake. If you want to read another fairy tale, that is a much closer description of the two ladies, try this. That’s one of my all-time favourites, the others being this and this.
It’s ages since I wrote a story this long. I don’t know if it’s just age or the Internet destroying attention span but I used to write lots of stories. I find that I can only sustain interest for bite-sized captions and vignettes, these days. Where was I… attention span… oh yes! So anyway, writing stories is actually how I started. My very first ever visit to a domme (was wonderful, utterly wonderful) and at the end of it, She commanded me to write up my session to publish on Her web site. I did and She did and it’s still there, and I took to writing more things for her and Her friend. Usually stories about them.
Some of these old stories can be found by clicking on ‘Mistress Valerie’ in the word cloud there (although the first one that comes up, abput Christmas, doesn’t really work, I think). They concern Mistress ‘Valerie’ and Her friend ‘Sandra’ , which are not quite their real names. But Mistress Herself has now semi-retired, or at any rate developed a vanilla business so She wants a low web profile.
This isn’t a Valerie and Sandra story, but the Empress’s personality has a bit of ‘Valerie’ so I gave Her that name for old-times sake. If you want to read another fairy tale, that is a much closer description of the two ladies, try this. That’s one of my all-time favourites, the others being this and this.
Croaked
The Frog Prince
The frog sat still on Princess Maria’s palm, its only
movement an occasional bulging out of its throat, as its big round eyes watched
her.
movement an occasional bulging out of its throat, as its big round eyes watched
her.
“A prince?” she said thoughtfully, after a while. “Prince of where?”
“Of Lower Lotharingia”, the amphibian croaked. “A land of prosperous farmers and merchants
waiting to welcome me back with my beautiful queen, if you would do me that homour. It is blessed with a fine climate, and
limitless wealth from its – “
waiting to welcome me back with my beautiful queen, if you would do me that homour. It is blessed with a fine climate, and
limitless wealth from its – “
“Silver mines” she interrupted. “Yes, I know all about them. Daddy lets me sit in on the military
briefings. We’ve 200,000 men poised on the
borders, and we’ve made a deal with Upper Lotharingia to split the country
between us. The enemy army’s just a bunch of part-time soldiers – merchants and farmers. They won’t last two days against our armoured divisions. Then we can enslave the survivors and put them to work in the silver mines. Daddy thinks we can double
the output! A chain-gang of 30 miners can produce almost 30 ounces of silver a day, if they’re whipped hard enough.”
briefings. We’ve 200,000 men poised on the
borders, and we’ve made a deal with Upper Lotharingia to split the country
between us. The enemy army’s just a bunch of part-time soldiers – merchants and farmers. They won’t last two days against our armoured divisions. Then we can enslave the survivors and put them to work in the silver mines. Daddy thinks we can double
the output! A chain-gang of 30 miners can produce almost 30 ounces of silver a day, if they’re whipped hard enough.”
“So why would I want to marry you?”
“But… but you could be a beloved queen, and – “ the frog
began.
began.
“Or a despotic empress” she laughed, picking the animal up
by its back foot, where it dangled helplessly for a moment, before being tossed
onto the sun-baked flagstones for the crows.
by its back foot, where it dangled helplessly for a moment, before being tossed
onto the sun-baked flagstones for the crows.
Bah, humbug
Mistress Valerie stars in a Christmas Movie
We begin by meeting Edmund Scrooge, a brash,
charmless, sexist 30-something yuppie in charge of a team of female office
workers. We see him throwing his weight
around, making sexist comments and denying them any time off at Christmas
(“Unless you want to come round and cook my turkey, girls!”).
charmless, sexist 30-something yuppie in charge of a team of female office
workers. We see him throwing his weight
around, making sexist comments and denying them any time off at Christmas
(“Unless you want to come round and cook my turkey, girls!”).
Off he goes, bragging loudly on his mobile
about (quite imaginary) sexual conquests at work, before going down the pub
with his equally obnoxious mates to try out cheesy chat-up lines on
uninterested women. He returns
(unsuccessful, of course, and drunk) to his bachelor pad, watches a porn video
and has a wank, before crashing out on the couch.
about (quite imaginary) sexual conquests at work, before going down the pub
with his equally obnoxious mates to try out cheesy chat-up lines on
uninterested women. He returns
(unsuccessful, of course, and drunk) to his bachelor pad, watches a porn video
and has a wank, before crashing out on the couch.
But this Christmas is different. The ghost of his old drinking partner Joseph
Marley appears in the bachelor pad in the middle of the night, and what a
change from when Scrooge knew him! He
clanks as he moves; heavy steel chains connecting shackles around his wrists
to the heavy steel collar around his neck, and trailing down from a heavy belt
around his waist to steel shackles around his ankles. As he shambles forward we see a chastity belt
clamped firmly on his genitals and above his well-striped buttocks we see a
tattoo reading “Property of Mistress Valerie.
Not to be removed without
permission.”
Marley appears in the bachelor pad in the middle of the night, and what a
change from when Scrooge knew him! He
clanks as he moves; heavy steel chains connecting shackles around his wrists
to the heavy steel collar around his neck, and trailing down from a heavy belt
around his waist to steel shackles around his ankles. As he shambles forward we see a chastity belt
clamped firmly on his genitals and above his well-striped buttocks we see a
tattoo reading “Property of Mistress Valerie.
Not to be removed without
permission.”
Marley has learnt
from Mistress Valerie the errors of his male chauvinist past – and he is here
with an awful warning for Scrooge to mend his ways! Three spirits will help him in this task.
from Mistress Valerie the errors of his male chauvinist past – and he is here
with an awful warning for Scrooge to mend his ways! Three spirits will help him in this task.
We begin with Mistress Valerie of Christmas past. We see Scrooge, as the adult he is today but
in his childhood clothes, opening his presents on Christmas morning. He has many but is dissatisfied and complains,
as each gift fails to meet his expectations.
But then his weary parents fade from view, and Governess Valerie
appears: to show him what might have been had his upbringing been
stricter. Each present is wrapped again,
and the tawse applied to his hands each time.
He unwraps each again in turn,, with appropriately polite cries of
delight – and rewrapping each again for a dose of the tawse if Governess Valerie deems his response too
churlish. So it goes through the
day. He gets the strap for not eating up
his sprouts, his knuckles are repeatedly rapped for cheating at Monopoly and
eventually Governess Valerie has had enough and administers a vigorous caning
before the boy is sent to bed. Back in
the present day …Scrooge wakes up howling on the couch, his hands feel his bottom
incredulously, and he makes his way painfully to work.
in his childhood clothes, opening his presents on Christmas morning. He has many but is dissatisfied and complains,
as each gift fails to meet his expectations.
But then his weary parents fade from view, and Governess Valerie
appears: to show him what might have been had his upbringing been
stricter. Each present is wrapped again,
and the tawse applied to his hands each time.
He unwraps each again in turn,, with appropriately polite cries of
delight – and rewrapping each again for a dose of the tawse if Governess Valerie deems his response too
churlish. So it goes through the
day. He gets the strap for not eating up
his sprouts, his knuckles are repeatedly rapped for cheating at Monopoly and
eventually Governess Valerie has had enough and administers a vigorous caning
before the boy is sent to bed. Back in
the present day …Scrooge wakes up howling on the couch, his hands feel his bottom
incredulously, and he makes his way painfully to work.
The next night, it is the turn of Mistress Valerie of
Christmas present. Here we see Scrooge
in the only place he is fit to encounter a lady: tied to the cross in Mistress Valerie’s
dungeon. She enters, a classic
dominatrix, dressed in PVC. She
introduces him to all of the modern techniques of punishment: electro play,
bondage and suspension, nipple clamps and flogging. He is forced to lick clean Her boots, is tied
to act as an ashtray and is fed dog food.
His genitals are tied, clamped, whipped and then shocked repeatedly with
an insect zapper. Finally, he is wired
up to Mistress Valerie’s motion-sensitive e-stim and flogged with a long
leather whip, the motion detector clamped firmly between his teeth. …Back in the present day, Scrooge at work has
his head down, not making eye contact with any of his staff, and he
involuntarily cringes as his secretary leans over the printer and innocently
asks “Shall I switch it on?”
Christmas present. Here we see Scrooge
in the only place he is fit to encounter a lady: tied to the cross in Mistress Valerie’s
dungeon. She enters, a classic
dominatrix, dressed in PVC. She
introduces him to all of the modern techniques of punishment: electro play,
bondage and suspension, nipple clamps and flogging. He is forced to lick clean Her boots, is tied
to act as an ashtray and is fed dog food.
His genitals are tied, clamped, whipped and then shocked repeatedly with
an insect zapper. Finally, he is wired
up to Mistress Valerie’s motion-sensitive e-stim and flogged with a long
leather whip, the motion detector clamped firmly between his teeth. …Back in the present day, Scrooge at work has
his head down, not making eye contact with any of his staff, and he
involuntarily cringes as his secretary leans over the printer and innocently
asks “Shall I switch it on?”
On the third night, we meet Mistress Valerie of Christmas
yet to come. Scrooge is an old man now,
gaunt and tired. We see him in an apron
and nothing else, doing dishes and other chores around a kitchen. We see his buttocks, striped and ridged after
what must have been decades of punishment.
From the steel chastity belt around his waist, hangs a slightly rusty
padlock. A handbell tinkles and he
hurries as well as his old bones can carry him to the living room, where
Mistress Valerie, eternally youthful, indicates his duties with a languid
finger. It is obvious that his servitude
has been so long and so repetitive that no words need any longer be
spoken. Mistress Valerie’s friends are
around for Christmas day, and we see them opening presents and laughing. Some slaves are present, young fit and
obviously happy to be fulfilling their fantasies. But Scrooge moves around silently performing
his chores, his face blank. He carries
out his chores efficiently, obviously well schooled in his tasks and is at no
stage acknowledged by any of the party.
Finally Mistress Valerie beckons him over, says “50” and hands him a
whip, without looking up. We see him
retreat to a bare room and, alone, begin to lash his buttocks. Fade out.
We fade back in again to see Mistress Valerie of Christmas
yet to come alone, surrounded by post-Christmas mess. She is on the phone and saying “Yes, I’m
going to need a new slave. I had that
last one for thirty-two years, but I suppose nothing lasts for ever“, and the
camera pulls back to reveal a pile of stuffed rubbish bags outside the front
door waiting to be collected. One is in
the shape of a kneeling human form…
yet to come alone, surrounded by post-Christmas mess. She is on the phone and saying “Yes, I’m
going to need a new slave. I had that
last one for thirty-two years, but I suppose nothing lasts for ever“, and the
camera pulls back to reveal a pile of stuffed rubbish bags outside the front
door waiting to be collected. One is in
the shape of a kneeling human form…
Back in the present, Scrooge wakes up in a cold sweat. We see him heading out the door in a frantic
rush, and stopping off at a little shop in Soho on his way in to work. In the office, to the ladies’ puzzlement,
there are presents for all: each receives a pair of new shoes and an implement:
paddles, canes, straps and whips.
Scrooge explains that he has seen the error of his ways, and begs them
for some ‘performance management’. The
ladies tuck into mince pies and chat delightedly, as, one by one, they recall
their boss’s most unpleasant habits, and exact a much-needed revenge.
The camera pulls back from this scene of
Christmas cheer, the giggles and howls fading out, and we see Mistress Valerie,
watching approvingly from afar, a smile on Her face and a whip in Her hand…
This is one of the very first femdom stories I ever wrote. I started because the first domme I ever had the pleasure of visiting – a lovely lady, thinly disguised as Mistress Valerie in these early tales – commanded me to write first of all an account of my sessions and then (when that became tedious and repetitive) stories. I think my writing style has changed… not necessarily for the better. Anyway, an icy blast from the past, there so wrap up warm.
Oh – and here’s an unrelated photo, too. And a Merry Christmas to one and all!
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| She knows if you’ve been bad or good… |
Effortless superiority
 |
| Don’t worry. If you lack the self-discipline to stay away from the ciggies, I am sure she can find alternative, external sources of discipline. She’s got willpower enough for both of you. |
This is surely from Cruella, and this is Mistress Chambers, who quite apart from her other wonderful characteristics, has a delightfully pretty nose, I’ve always thought. Seen to better advantage here.
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| Hmm… Do you think they’re going to live happily ever after? |
 |
| Well, it’s probably someone’s kink. A pink kink. |
This is Mistress Jessica, looking remarkably stern and – fairly obviously – playing the role of Auntie in her house.
 |
| That’s a relief. I was beginning to think something was wrong with me. |
 |
| Scamper back to little wife’s apron strings or stay talking to Ms Ratajkowski? Oh what a horrible choice. Dammit, I thought submission was all about giving up responsibility for difficult choices. |
Excerpts from a bedtime story
The perfect lady featured here today is the Divine Mistress Heather, for whom this blog could be named.
Story: the elves and the dominatrices
A story starring Mistress Valerie and her friend Sandra.
Once upon a time, there lived two ladies, and their names were Mistress Valerie and Sandra. They were very poor. Mistress Valerie worked all day, whipping and torturing men in the town prison. But no matter how many backs she lashed, no matter how many thumbs she crushed, it never seemed to bring in enough money. Poor Sandra sat at home, doing the accounts, and dreamed of having enough money to buy a new pair of shoes every day. But they were so poor, that Sandra got only one new pair a year – a present from Mistress Valerie for her birthday. And Mistress Valerie never drank Champagne, which she loved with a passion exceeded only by her love for Sandra.
 |
| Mistress Valerie loved her job at the prison. But it tired her out. Bastinado sessions, for example, rarely lasted less than two hours and her arm would ache terribly afterwards. |
One year, for Sandra’s birthday, Mistress Valerie could not even afford to buy her one pair of shoes. So instead, she bought the finest red leather her scant pennies could afford, determined to make a pair of shoes as best she could. She took the leather home and got needle and thread all ready, then sat down with a cup of tea, before starting her night’s work.
But Mistress Valerie had dealt with too many stubborn men that day, and her arms were tired and her eyelids were heavy. So as she sat there in front of the warming fire, she closed her eyes with the intention of snatching no more than five minutes rest before starting to sew. But soon her head lolled to one side, and she was fast asleep.
She woke with a start to the sight of early-morning sunlight streaming in through the window, and the sound of birdsong. She jumped to her feet, horrified that Sandra’s birthday had come and she had slept all the way through the night she had set aside for making a present. Sandra came dancing into the room, and Mistress Valerie felt she couldn’t meet her eyes to tell her that there was no present this year.
So she looked down instead and there – to her amazement – on Sandra’s feet were the most wonderful shoes. Obviously new, the shoes were of the same bright red leather as Mistress Valerie had bought the day before. But where had they come from? She looked up at her friend in surprise.
“They’re the best birthday present ever!” Sandra pronounced, twirling and admiring her feet. And very dainty they looked too, the arches set off beautifully with small flowers artfully carved from the leather itself. Mistress Valerie looked over to the table where she had laid out the things the night before. They were gone – except for one small item, apparently made of the same material as Sandra’s new shoes.
“Not sure about that thing, though.” Sandra said, looking puzzled. “Does it go with the shoes?”
“No” Mistress Valerie replied, looking at it carefully. “It’s something for a boy.”
Sandra looked blank. She had very little to do with boys, except for occasionally helping out at the prison when things were exceptionally busy.
“It…errr…came with the shoes. Don’t worry about it.” Mistress Valerie said firmly, and swept it off the table into her handbag.
After celebrating a birthday breakfast with her friend, Mistress Valerie headed into town. Once out of sight of the cottage, she opened her handbag and took out the red leather object. She turned it over and over in her hands, studying it carefully. Like the shoes, it was beautifully made. And like the shoes, too, it used no materials except the thinnest scraps of red leather and the thread that Mistress Valerie had laid out. It had been made from the same material sure enough. She had recognized it immediately. It was a cock-harness, but like none she had ever seen before. Despite the shortage of materials, it looked strong, its straps coming together neatly in a loop allowing it to be secured in a position in which artfully contrived little leather spikes would dig gently but firmly into soft male flesh.
Mistress Valerie had a brainwave. She headed for the richest house in the village, and knocked confidently on the door. A servant appeared and tried to shoo her away but Mistress Valerie calmly gave her the device and instructed her to show it to her Mistress. It wasn’t long before the lady of the house appeared, delighted and welcoming. Clever Mistress Valerie knew very well that this lady had a teenage son, and she also knew that she was too soft-hearted to whip him enough to stop him playing with himself. The foolish rich lady was in a quandary, on the one hand not wanting her son to engage in such vile practices, but on the other too tender-hearted to apply the daily beatings necessary to ensure that he learnt not to do so. The cock restraint was the answer to her prayers, and she asked Mistress Valerie excitedly where she had got it. Mistress Valerie would not say, so pressing three gold coins into her hand, the kind-hearted lady bade her farewell, and disappeared to place the cock restraint on her spoiled son.
Mistress Valerie chuckled as she walked along, jingling the coins in her hand. She was about to go to the wine merchant and buy the biggest bottle of Champagne she could carry when, passing the leather stall from which she had bought the red leather the day before, she had an idea. Firmly putting away dreams of Champagne, she bought twice as much of the very finest black leather, as she had bought of red leather the day before, and some tassels and spikes of shiny chrome with the money left over.
That night Mistress Valerie set out the materials on the table, and settled down in the same armchair to see what would happen. But the day’s celebration with Sandra had tired her out, and quickly she nodded off again and was soon sleeping deeply.
When she awoke she was disappointed to see that once again she had slept right through to dawn. But her disappointment turned to joy when, in the morning sunlight, she saw what was on the kitchen table. A pair of the finest high-heeled boots stood there, along with a smaller pair of black patent shoes, and a soft leather strap. When Sandra saw the shoes, she could not keep her hands off them and was soon coo-ing delightedly over the fine stitching and graceful design. But she stopped when she saw the boots and the leather strap.
“Not…really my thing” she began, but Mistress Valerie simply whisked them away. “Just samples” she said brightly, and headed off towards town again.
That evening, one of the Lady Mayor’s daughters was strutting round delightedly in leather boots, while the assistant boy in the grocery store was stacking shelves faster than he had ever done in his life, as his boss stood approvingly nearby, the leather strap dangling elegantly from her hand. And Mistress Valerie was sipping Champagne, while gazing happily at an expanse of purple leather, shiny metal eyeholes and diamante studs on the table.
And so it went on. Each day, Mistress Valerie would buy leather and other materials for shoes, and each morning there would be a pair of shoes for Sandra and several other pairs or other valuable items for sale. Sandra was soon let into the secret and she delighted in trying to catch out the mysterious shoemakers by buying odd materials or pieces of inconvenient shape. But the secret people who made the shoes each night could always conjure up something stunning for her to wear on her feet, and every day seemed to bring shoes that were more thrilling, more stylish and more gorgeous than the last. The ladies had never been happier.
The townspeople were happy too. The ladies of the town strutted round in the finest fetishwear, while the men found themselves excited by their partners’ clothing but increasingly restricted, controlled and tortured by the magic shoemakers’ creations. Even the King and Queen had heard about the amazing leatherwork from this little town. Mistress Valerie had proudly presented the royal household with a stunning green leather harness, which the King would wear when pulling the royal carriage around, to the accompaniment of merry cracks from a whip Mistress Valerie had presented to the Queen in person.
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| Newly rich from sale of the fine fetish gear, Mistress Valerie bought herself a beautiful fur coat. But she was careful to keep it hidden from Sandra, who disapproved of fur because she thought it cruel. |
Yet still, neither lady had ever seen the mysterious creators of the amazing leather products. They had each tried to sit up all night, but each had been defeated by drowsiness, and the end result was always the same: daylight streaming through the kitchen window, illuminating a pile of elegant fetishwear, dainty shoes and ingenious bondage devices. Yet the makers were nowhere to be seen.
One day Mistress Valerie came home with a large bucket and a brush.
“What’s that?” Sandra asked, looking at the creamy liquid in the bucket and wondering – not for the first time – what exactly her friend got up to with the prisoners.
“Bird-catcher” Mistress Valerie replied, curtly. “Like quicklime, it makes birds’ feet stick to the branch. But it’s stickier than quicklime. Plus “ – and she painted a line on the table, which merely glistened faintly in the light – “ it’s almost invisible.”
“Are you expecting them to get their fingers stuck?” Sandra asked in confusion, but her friend just shook her head, muttering something about having a theory, and proceeded to paint all over the table top. The two ladies went to bed, wondering if this night the longstanding mystery would finally be solved.
When they came down the next morning, for the first time in months the sight that greeted their eyes was not a neat pile of fetish items and a pair of stunning shoes. Instead, the materials sat there untouched. But just in from the edge of the table stood two tiny naked men, each no higher than a pepperpot. They made little squeaking sounds, as the two ladies approached. Their feet were obviously stuck.
“Goodness” Mistress Valerie said, wondering, as she leaned down to take a close look at one of the little men. “Are they elves, would you say?”
“Or pixies?” Sandra agreed, reaching out a finger and gently flicking at one of the small figures. It made another squeaking sound, more urgently this time.
Both ladies giggled. “Oh how sweet!” Mistress Valerie declared, and drew her index finger firmly back before flicking it hard with a release of the thumb, to catch her little man right between the legs. This time the squeaking and screeching hit a pitch almost too high to hear, before cutting off abruptly as Mistress Valerie gently folded her thumb and finger over the little man’s face.
“So you are the boys who have been making all this stuff?” Mistress Valerie said, half to herself in wonderment.
The other boy – who was not being smothered – nodded urgently.
“And made all those fabulous shoes.” smiled Sandra.
At this, the little man smiled too, and gave a small and graceful bow, although he nearly toppled when coming back up as his feet were still firmly stuck to the table.
Mistress Valerie released her grip on the other, who swayed wildly, breathing frantically.
“Well.” she said. “From now on, you’re both going to work a lot harder.”
And they did. Under Mistress Valerie’s firm direction, the two little men no longer simply worked through the eight hours of the night, but instead worked fourteen hours a day, in two shifts each. Their first task was to fashion a more delicate set of items than even they had ever produced before as – to Mistress Valerie’s exacting specifications – they turned out sets of harnesses, straps, whips and collars all just one-thirtieth of normal size. By applying these, Mistress Valerie found that not only could the little men be made to work longer hours, they would work so much harder that production was three times what it had been before. And they made such sweet little squeaking noises whenever they were whipped, too!
And so Mistress Valerie and Sandra became very rich. Sandra had a new pair of shoes every day and Mistress Valerie had daily deliveries of Champagne. They lived in a fine town-house in the smartest quarter of town, with its own wine cellars and dungeons and were driven around everywhere in a coach pulled by six fine young gelded men. But they never forgot that they had once been poor, and they never forgot the source of the fortune that had brought them these pleasures.
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| The ladies had everything they wanted – and more boys than they knew what to do with! |
So once a year, on Sandra’s birthday, they would buy none of the material on which their tiny slaves usually labored the long day through. Instead they would paint the table with bird-catching glue, stick their two tiny workers in convenient positions and ready some needles on the fire until they glowed red-hot. And the night air would fill with high pitched screams and gasps, as the little men were reminded, once more, who their boss was and why it was so important – so very, very important – to keep her happy.
And they all lived happily ever after. Except the boys, of course. And the elves (unless they were, in fact, pixies).
THE END
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| Did you make your quota this week? No? |
Thou shalt not
Not without permission anyway.
 |
| And they all lived happily – oh no, hang on, no they didn’t. |
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| I think it’s great when husband and wife can work together. But don’t expect her to help out with the housework – remember who’s bringing home the big bucks in this relationship. She earns more money, too. |
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| A G5? A G5 airplane? |
 |
| You have to time it right. Best to work up to it in stages, taking him a little further each time until that IQ’s just down where you like it. |
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| You need to learn to respect her rights. Or just respect her. |
All the better
“Goodbye mother!” Red Riding Hood called out gaily, and headed off into the forest, swinging his basket as he went. He was off to visit his auntie, because his poor dear mother was too tired to beat him properly, and without a good paddling every few days, little Red just couldn’t help getting up to the most awful mischief. He hadn’t been paddled for almost a week now, and his exhausted mother had taken just one look at the stained sheets in his bedroom and packed him off to auntie May’s, with a selection of leather and wooden paddles in his little basket.
She was glad that he was finally about to receive a bottom appropriate to his name, but Red’s mother knew that there was a dangerous dominatrix who lived in the woods through which he had to pass, and warned him not to talk to any strange women. Except his auntie, obviously.
So Red went skipping along the path, stopping once or twice to play with himself by the side of the road. But although he was almost permanently horny, he was a good boy at heart and dutifully recorded each ejaculation in the little punishment book he was carrying, to show his auntie. He knew that he was being particularly bad, as his mother had warned him not to stop at all along the way, for fear of the dominatrix. But Red’s urges were simply too pressing, and anyway despite living alongside the forest all his life, secretly he didn’t believe in the big bad dominatrix, who would lock you up for life, make you scream for her pleasure and do dreadful things to your most sensitive parts. He thought she was just a story mothers told their sons and husbands, to get them to bend over quietly for a spanking.
Anyway, this time he certainly didn’t meet a dominatrix, or anyone else and soon he arrived at his auntie’s cottage. It was years since he’d seen her. He supposed her daughter Jenny, his cousin, was all grown up now, like him. Even as a teenager, when they had last met, she had beguiled him with her long dark hair and her soft lips. The thought made him consider disappearing behind a bush for as few minutes, but he decided instead it was better to get it over with (and, in truth, he was rather concerned about how much correction the sins already listed in his little book would entail), so he nervously knocked and the door and waited for a response.
After a few moments, the door slowly swung open, and Red peered uncertainly into its dark interior. He could see nothing except a hall extending away into blackness.
“Come in!” he heard, in a deep but sensuously feminine voice. It seemed to be coming from the very end of the hall, so he gingerly entered the house and tiptoed forward. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he could see that the voice had emanated from a door, lightly ajar ahead of him at the very end of the hall. He advanced towards it, and raised his hand nervously to knock.
“I said come IN, boy!” the voice rapped out, this time with a distinct air of irritation. Red gulped, and pushed the door open quickly and steeped through.
Inside, through the gloom, he could dimly make out a figure seated in a chair at the far end of the room. The chair was raised up on a platform, like a throne, and around it and on the walls hung dark and menacing shapes. He started backwards in shock.
“Who are you, and what do you want?”, the figure in the chair asked in a silky, seductive voice – the impatient air of command gone now.
“Er…it’s Red” he stuttered in reply. “Little Red, here for a spanking from my aunty, with a basket full of paddles.”
“I see” the figure said. “Well, it’s nice to see you again, Red. Do you have your punishment book? Bring it here and we can get started.”
“Yes, err… Auntie?” Red replied. He tottered forward slowly. His eyes were becoming accustomed to the darkness, and soon he could make out some details of the figure he was approaching. She was wearing long black leather boots, that went up at least to her thighs as there was not a trace of leg to be seen.
“What big boots you have, auntie”, he remarked, desperately trying to break the oppressive silence.
“All the better to crush you under, my dear” the seated figure replied, pleasantly, and Red’s gaze instinctively flinched away to her arms. She was holding a cane, and flexing it easily between two deceptively slim arms.
“What strong arms you must have, auntie” he croaked, his mouth suddenly dry.
The figure laughed gently. “All the better to thrash you with, my dear” it replied, softly.
Finally, the boy’s eyes met hers: dark eyes that sparkled with amusement in a face of utter perfection, framed under a leather cap.
“What big eyes you have, err…auntie?” he gasped.
“All the better to watch you suffer, my dear” she replied with a smile, getting to her feet. “Now – down on your knees and kiss my boot.”
Red felt his legs collapsing under him, and he frantically jerked his head to one side to break free of the fascinating, mocking gaze. In doing so, he found himself looking at the wall, and suddenly realised what he was looking at there. It was a naked figure, apparently a woman in her late 50s, chained tightly to the wall by her ankles and her wrists. Her mouth was gagged, small shiny clips seemed to be attached to her nipples and from between her legs, several wires snaked down, to vanish into an evil-looking electronic device beside her. She was frantically jerking her head from side to side, and the gentlest whimpering sounds emerged through the gag as she thrashed about.
“Auntie!” Red gasped with shock, recognising her despite her peculiar predicament. He looked back at the figure standing before him in horror. “What have you done to her, you evil witch? And where’s Jenny?”
The dark lady burst out laughing. “Where’s Jenny? Oh Red, did I really make so little impression on you? And there was I thinking the tent-pole in your shorts was for me when you visited that time.”
“J-jenny?” Red asked, wonderingly. “B-b-but what are you doing to our dear auntie?”
“Oh, just a little game to while away the long nights here in the forest”, Jenny said, casually. “Sometimes she needs rather…severe measures.” She gently pressed a button, on a device held lightly between her fingers, and the figure attached to the wall began to buck around violently, making frantic keening sounds through its gag.”
“Bad auntie”, Jenny said, vaguely, and held the button for a few more seconds before releasing it, and letting the figure hang slack from its wrist restraints – now sweating profusely.
“But – your own mother?” Red asked.
“Oh, she’s not really my mother.” Jenny said dismissively. “Look closely there between her legs.”
Red peered, feeling rather out of place as a nephew inspecting his auntie’s genitals. He wasn’t quite sure what he saw. It didn’t look like his image of female genitalia, but there wasn’t really enough there to be a male either.
“Behold your uncle Malcolm”, Jenny said dismissively. “Tranny, sub and perverted old pain slut. I was found abandoned on the doorstep when I was a baby. He brought me up as his child, but we’re not relations, so there was really no reason when I came of age not to make him my bitch. He was gagging for it anyway.”
“Did he have a sex change?” Red asked with fascination, trying to discern exactly what it was that the sweating creature had between its legs.
“Not exactly”, Jenny said. “I mean, surgical procedures were carried out, and it certainly doesn’t really count as male any more, but…well, it’s a bit complicated.”
She looked down at Red, kneeling at her feet. “Anyway, I’m not related to you, either. Isn’t that interesting? It certainly creates some new possibilities.”
Red looked up at her face, and started to smile, before reeling under a savage slap to his cheek from her gloved hand.
“Now – we’ll have that punishment book please”, she commanded. “And we’ll have to add something there about failing to kiss my boot when commanded.”
*
Four hours later, Red lay panting, suspended (like his “auntie” opposite) from wrist restraints. His back was a mass of bruises and welts from Jenny’s cane and a variety of whips. His nipples were sore beyond belief, having been pulled, twisted, crushed and burnt until he had lacked the breath to scream any more . Between his legs, though, his penis (which had also seen its share of rough treatment) finally hung flaccid, Jenny’s ministrations having finally exhausted even this randy twenty year-old’s capacity. He was sore all over, and exhausted , but strangely happy.
“Did you really think I was your auntie?”, Jenny asked, with a kittenish grin. “I should be offended – to be mistaken for that wrinkled old bag” – and she lashed out playfully with her whip, the tip of which caught auntie hard across ‘her’ left breast, where it added an angry red mark to the pattern of welts that already existed.
“I had my doubts” confessed Red, sheepishly. “Actually” he admitted, with an embarrassed grin, “I thought perhaps you were the big bad dominatrix who lives in the woods.”
“The one who tortures bad boys and girls for fun?” laughed Jenny.
“Yes” he admitted. “And keeps them in her lair until she’s bored with them, then cuts off their…their…” Red’s voice trailed off, as a rather unpleasant thought occurred to him.
“Oh you silly boy.” Jenny said, her hand snaking down to his genitals, and stroking them thoughtfully.
“Surely you know that’s just a myth.”