Oh hi! You’re Paul, right? From IT? I’m Jane. I guess I’m the “boss” in this part of the company! Oh, but just call me Jane – we’re very informal around here!
Look – we’re really grateful that you’ve come to help us out, OK? I mean I know you’re all so busy down there, with that…computer stuff. Fixing things… brilliant!
But we’ve got such an important meeting tomorrow – really important clients, right? – and I saw you give that presentation in Head Office last month and I just knew you’d be perfect for it! So I asked Karen, and –
Which one? Do you give a lot of presentations? Oh! Well, you have to send me invites to them. I only saw the one – but you were great. It was the one about computers. Something about a… network, was it? It was brilliant, anyway! And I just thought – that’s what we need for next Wednesday! The clients will love it. And Wednesday’s tomorrow now… and here you are! Brilliant!
Hmmm? Yes, yes that topic would be fine. Computers…networks…all that. They’re very interested in that stuff. They’ve got lots of computers. I mean, it’s a bank so they’re bound to, aren’t they?
Oh! One little thing. Silly really. Erm… you were wearing these, mmmm, white trousers? Not quite sure what sort…I’d recognise them again if I see them. They were…quite tight. Really tight actually! Anyway, I thought that was very effective. Really helped to…well, the audience could see you very clearly. I certainly could. Do you think you could, erm…wear them tomorrow? Hmm? That be OK?
No…not quite sure what brand they were. Do you have a lot of pairs of tight white trousers? Oh. Well, that’s good, isn’t it? Tell you what – bring all three pairs in tomorrow morning and we’ll see which works best, OK? Great! We can have a little fashion show! Right here.
Slides? What do you mean, slides? Oh PowerPoint slides! Yes, definitely. Got to have slides. PowerPoint’s brilliant, isn’t it? And then we can darken the rest of the room, so it’s like you’re just there in a spotlight…all in white.
No, I know. Not all in white. But the trousers are.
Oh…there was a little thing you did. At one point you dropped all your notes, and you sort of bent over and picked them up for a bit? And you looked kind of humiliated and embarassed as you did it? That was quite effective too, I thought. Really got the audience’s attention. Put them at ease… An accident? Was it really? Oh. Well, you know if you were to do it ‘by accident’ tomorrow, I’m sure the client would like it. Possibly several times.
Great. Well, I think we’re all set, then. The client arrives at about 4pm, and we’ll go straight into the meeting. No you don’t have to be there for that bit – that’s the serious business of the day. Then we’ll talk to her a bit about the joint venture (you don’t need to worry about all that – boring old financy things!) then when that’s all agreed we’ll have your presentation at the end of the afternoon! Deal all done, down go the lights, onto the stage goes Paul and it’s all about…internet protocols for the rest of the afternoon! Great!
Oh, is ‘internet protocols’ different from ‘networks’? OK, well either really. Gosh aren’t you clever – knowing about both!
Anyway, I expect we’ll all go off for a drink or something afterwards. You should come along. She’d like that.
Brilliant. Look – tell Karen I owe her one for this, all right?
Oh wow. You really call her “Miss Oldfield”? Oh, that is cute! Look – forget what I said about calling me Jane, OK? You can just call me Miss Summers tomorrow, OK? In front of the client. I’d like that. I’d really like that! Or…you could call me “Boss”.
Go on – just for me. Say “OK, boss!”
Brilliant!
Category: story
Love and marriage
Oh
yes, I’d forgotten you haven’t been here since I had that put in. Don’t you recognise it? It’s George – you know, my husband! Well, what’s left of him.
yes, he’s still my husband. We’re just
waiting for the divorce papers to come through.
That’s why I had him fixed there, to remind me.
It
is clever, isn’t it? Yes, they were able
to amputate the arms and legs all the way up to the joints. Because I was afraid that they’d leave little
stumps or something, and he’d be able to waggle them a bit. Wouldn’t that be disgusting? But no, they’ve done it very neatly. Just a torso.
Perfect.
he can’t move his neck either. The
doctors attached a steel bar running right down his spine, you see, and it goes
all the way into his skull. He can’t
move nod or turn his head at all – not even a millimetre. And his jaw’s wired up, of course. Sorry about the silly little grin, but they
needed to keep it a little open, for feeding purposes. But they removed his teeth and his tongue, of
course. And his vocal chords.
Hmmm? Oh trust you to notice that! Yes, I did decide to leave them on. Of course, I was really tempted to have him
castrated – they even said I could do it myself. But I thought it might be more fun if they
were still there, you know? I do enjoy
playing with them, after all. It’s
amazing how well they’ve lasted really, after all I’ve done to them. They can take a lot more punishment than you
think, actually. I’ve even set them on
fire a few times, but there are still some nerve endings left. Look – I’ll show you. There!
See how his breathing gets much faster when I push this pin into
it? And then if I wiggle it about I –
yes, you see? Plenty of nerve endings
still.
Oh
yes, I don’t think I’ll keep him much after the divorce papers come
through. Should be any day now. And then
maybe I’ll just stop feeding and watering him – and put him outside by the
trash. Unless you’d like to…? No? I
just thought I’d offer, seeing as the two of you were an item back in college,
that’s all. No problem: I’ll deal with
it.
Yes,
he can still use his eyes. Apart from
his lungs, I suppose they’re the only other muscles he can still move. See – look at how he’s watching us? Oh – isn’t that sweet? He’s crying.
He seemed to have stopped doing that a few weeks back, but maybe seeing
you reminds him of his old life or something.
Maybe he thinks you’ll save him?
Hard to know what he’s thinking really.
But I do like him still to be able to see me, so I know he’s thinking
about what I’m doing to him. I’ll
probably put them out before I finally get rid of him, of course.
Oh
clever you! No, I suppose he doesn’t
need both eyes. I hadn’t thought of
that! Why don’t we do one of them right
now? I don’t suppose you have a
cigarette on you, do you? You do? Oh wonderful – that’ll be perfect. I gave up just over a year ago, you
know. But maybe I could…I mean just one
wouldn’t hurt, would it? And then maybe
we could both stub them out at the same time.
Shall we do the right or the left, do you think?
naughty girl! Oh never mind,
though. Mmmm….lovely. Well, when I finish this one, I’ll stub it
out, and that’ll be that.
It’s
funny, you know. He always disapproved
of my smoking. He was so pleased when I
gave up. Said watching me stub the last
one out was the best day of his life.
Didn’t you, darling? Well, you’ll
certainly be watching very closely when I stub this one out. Very closely indeed…
Story: the elves and the dominatrices
A story starring Mistress Valerie and her friend Sandra.
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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. |
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The ladies had everything they wanted – and more boys than they knew what to do with! |
Rewards and penalties
A silly humiliation story, written to amuse my Significant Other. Names have been changed to protect…well, me.
Servitor looked straight back into her eyes as he handed her the money.
The girl froze in the act of taking his money, carefully transferred it to the till and turned her whole body to face the next customer, without a word.
Servitor grabbed the coffee and almost ran from the coffee shop in horror, feeling the shocked and amused stares drilling into the back of his neck, his down-turned face burning with humiliation. He walked rapidly down the street, slowing to a normal pace only when he was almost half a mile away from the scene of the catastrophe.
What had he said? How was that possible? He felt sick and shaky. If he were still a drinker, he told himself, this would be a double vodka moment. As it was, he gratefully saw a Boots Chemists sign ahead and went in to buy some aspirin.
“Do you have a Boots advantage card?” the middle-aged lady at the check-out asked him.
“No.” he heard himself say, with growing horror. “But I do like to take advantage of my little cock by wanking until it’s sore.”
This time he didn’t even pick up his purchase: as soon as the words were out of Servitor’s mouth, he was pushing past the stunned customers and heading straight for the door.
Out on the street, Servitor panicked. Loyalty card? As he thought that, the words “sweaty little cock” jumped into his brain. Loyalty card. (‘tiny prick’). Something about those words, about saying loy-…the L word. Or anything like it, remembering the Boots experience. (“Frequent flyer”? “Frequently wank myself silly”). He mustn’t even think it.
Where could he shop? He had to go places where they didn’t have a loya- a – a programme for rewarding customers. There was a corner shop just ahead, and steeling his nerves, he went in and bought bread and a few tins of food. He marched up to the counter, heart thumping.
“Four-fifty”, the man behind the counter said, not looking at him. Servitor held out a fiver with shaking hands and clenched his teeth tight shut. The shopkeeper pulled at the note, and looked up in confusion as Servitor’s fingers held it tight.
He walked out in triumph. No mention of…rebate programmes…and no problem. Well, he wouldn’t starve.
The cab pulled up outside his house and the driver drew the little window back. “Do you need a receipt mate?” he called cheerily.
***
In a different town, in a different county, Mistress Valerie was tidying her toy cupboard. She picked up a box, rifled inside it and frowned.
called.
Ms Sandra leaned round the door. “Me?” She replied, innocently. “Why would I do that?”
Story: love among the test tubes
Yes, it’s another Serena and Alice story. Heavy, non-consensual and utterly absurd throughout. If any of those three things bother you, go and be bothered somewhere else.
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Science: it’s a girl thing. |
“And apparently in chemistry the situation is even worse!” Serena concluded. “Only 23 percent! It’s just ridiculous!”
Her friend Alice nodded silently. The low proportions of women taking science subjects at university had been much in the newspapers, of course, but to a dedicated scientist like Serena – who also had strong views on the question of sexual equality (she was opposed to it) – it was unbearable.
“What do you think the reason is?” Alice asked.
“Well, it’s the fault of men, obviously.” Serena replied, calming down a bit.
“Obviously.” echoed Alice.
The two friends saw eye-to-eye on most things, but about men they were in particularly firm agreement. For Serena’s birthday, Alice had bought her a t-shirt reading “Man-hating lesbian and proud of it”, and sometimes the two went out wearing identical messages. But they weren’t that sort of separatist dykes who wanted to live in an all-female world. No, both Alice and Serena thought that men were all right, in their proper place. And principally, that proper place was as unwilling test subjects for Serena’s scientific experiments. Science, and especially the scholarly exploration of male degradation, humiliation and torture was Serena’s passion*. Alice’s passion was Serena, so she was a little less interested, but she did find it sexy when her lover made them do such funny things. Especially when they screamed, or begged. Or bits came off.
“It’s the male teachers in schools” Serena complained. “They make it much too boring! It’s all blackboards and formulae, and carefully measuring the volume of the precipitate.”
“I used to hate science at school” Alice agreed. “I had this horrible teacher, Mr Greystoke, who just used to drone on and on – we never understood a thing and I think he just didn’t care. I just thought science was boring.”
She caught sight of her friend’s shocked expression.
“Well, I don’t think that now, of course! You make science fun. I love it when you do your experiments. I wish school science could be like that.”
Serena’s face suddenly lit up, in the way it always did when she had had a brilliant idea. The slave males standing patiently against the wall recognised the expression, knew its consequences and flinched in fear.
“What is it?” Alice asked with interest. “Have you thought of a new experiment?”
Serena shook her head slowly, smiling.
“No.” she said. “No, just maybe the beginnings of an idea. Never mind – I’ll think a bit more and tell you about it when it’s ready.”
Alice tried to hide her disappointment, but as usual her friend could tell.
Serna leaned forward, smiling broadly.
“Tell you what” she remarked. “Is that crap science teacher of yours still at the school?”
“No” Alice replied, shaking her head. “He retired last year. I don’t know where he is now.”
“Shame” Serena said. “Would you like to pretend one of these creatures here is him? I’ve got a school cane.”
Two months later, Alice was back in her friend’s living room, sipping a gin and tonic and admiring the view, as a young man writhed in agony on the wall in front of her.
The man she’d chosen to play-act her hated science teacher had been old and rather frail, so the ladies had had to go very easy on him. Even so, he had lasted no more than six days, before the kindly fates granted him that blessed release from his agonies for which he had been begging since his first day in captivity. So now, Serena was repeating exactly the same course of treatment, multiplied up, on a young, fitter man (who had once delivered a pizza to their door, 30 seconds later than had been promised, and had been regretting it ever since). This was real science, Alice thought happily – every whiplash perfectly calibrated, and recorded for the edification of future generations. She was so proud to have a proper scientist as her lover.
“Never mind him” Serena commanded, sweeping into the room. “Look what I’ve got.”
She held up a memory stick.
“Oooh!” squealed Alice in excitement. “Did you get the soul-catcher to work?”
This had been on Serena’s ‘to do’ list for ages. Record men’s experiences in perfect detail onto a computer storage device (the technology for recording the more complex sensations and thoughts of the superior sex would not be ready for decades, but computers were finally becoming powerful enough to be as complex as simple life forms like worms, cockroaches and men).
The benefits that such a technology could bring the world were almost infinite. Imagine if you could record a man being tortured to death, over the course of two days for example. Sure, he’s suffered for two days but then what? If you could record the experience – every burn, every shrieking nerve, every cut and bruise and finally fatal injury – then you could replay it, over and over again, inflicting multiples of the same agony on a subject who would survive the experience, only to face it from the very start all over again. Imagine explaining to a slave on the torture table, that not only were you about to do this and then afterwards, when the screaming had abated, you would do that – but that his experience would be recorded and he could scream again for this and shriek in terror at the prospect of that – all at the touch of a replay button.
The soulcatcher, Alice thought, would surely win her lover the Nobel Prize that had always cruelly been denied her (by men she thought, viciously).
“Errr…no” Serena said. “No, I’m still having trouble with that. No, this is a video.”
“Oh” Alice replied, rather deflated. “Good video?”
“It’s a wonderful video!” Serena replied excitedly. “An educational video.”
“Oh” Alice said again. “Educational. How nice.”
“Science education!” Serena said, exasperated. “You remember – we talked about it? About how it’s all so boring and dry. Well now it’s not. I’ve made this!”
“Oh” Alice said, and realised she really ought to say something a bit more intelligent (although to be honest, her friend loved her precisely because she was a little dim by female standards. So does the author, as without Alice’s constant questions, how would anything be explained?).
“So you’ve recorded some of your experiments – to show them what fun it can be?” and she nodded at the man writhing on the wall, who seemed to be about to lose his battle to hold himself up with his arms, with consequences that he knew full well would be horrifically painful.
“No, no” Serena said in irritation. “That’s too advanced. They wouldn’t be able to connect it to what they learn about. No – I’ve recorded a teaching video demonstrating ordinary school science experiments. But my way. Do you want to see?”
“OK” said Alice, doubtfully, and her friend loaded the software onto a laptop, which projected onto a big flat screen TV on the far side of the room, suspended from four tightly-bound slaves.
“What do you want first?” Serena asked happily – pointing at the menu. “Chemistry?”
“S’pose so” Alice replied, moodily. “Mr mind-if-I-bore-you-to-tears Greystoke, eat your heart out.”
“Right then” Serena said, with a smile, as if she had secrets even deeper than usual. “Chemistry it is. Here we go”
And she selected chemistry on the menu, and the video started.
The first scene was a close-up of a naked young man rather uncomfortably squashed up behind a glass screen. But as the camera pulled back, Alice gasped as she realised that the glass was curved, and was in fact the side of an enormous test-tube. The man was curled up in the bottom of it, and did not look too happy about it.
“So” Serena said, in a rather formal voice. “Here we have a material, and we are about to test some of its properties through experiment.”
“Material?” Alice asked, perfectly in character even at this exciting bit of the story, when the author has to type fast.
“The boy” Serena replied absently. “We’re going to investigate its properties.”
“OK” Alice smiled. “So how do we do that?”
“Oh, lots of ways!” her friend laughed. “Let’s start with some chemical reagents. She pressed a button.”
Serena herself now appeared on the screen, wearing a lab coat with safety goggles and carrying a clipboard.
“Acid reagents oxidise materials, and we can learn useful things about the properties of the material on which they act, by analysing the resulting gases” she said, in a sing-song voice, speaking rather woodenly to camera.
She pulled her goggles over her eyes, picked up a bucket marked “HNO3” and carefully climbed a ladder standing next to the giant test tube. While she did this a voice-over prattled on about the properties of acids, while information also scrolled confusingly across the bottom of the screen. The boy, it seemed, knew some basic science, because he was scrabbling frantically at the side of the test tube while this was going on, despairingly clawing at the smooth, high sides.
“and add the reagent to the material under study.” The voiceover concluded, and Serena carefully tipped the bucket of acid into the giant tube.
The two ladies watched in silence.
“Well.” Alice remarked, when all was quiet again and the test tube seemed only to contain a featureless sludge. “That was very educational.”
“Really?” her friend asked eagerly, her face aglow. “What did you learn.”
“Oh” Alice replied (for what was now the fourth time).
“Well, you know. Acid, boys. All that.” She gestured at the screen. “They, erm, well they melt. And it’s such fun as they do it! Oh and they burn at first. Burn and melt. Funny.”
Serena pursed her lips. “Yes. Well there was a bit more than that. But I suppose it’s a start. Now, after this there’s a ten minute section in which we analyse the gases that were emitted when we reacted the acid with the boy and – “
She caught sight of her friend’s face, which had assumed a look of panic.
“ – but we’ll skip that bit for now, and go on to another experiment.” she concluded, weakly, and called the chemistry sub-menu back.
Over the next fifteen minutes, Alice learned all about the chemical properties of young men and how to investigate them.
- How they reacted with alkalis
- What happened if they were subjected to heat
- The effects of removing oxygen, or of adding chlorine
- Practical tips, such as how to grind them in a mortar and pestle, and the effects of keeping them under oil.
“Goodness” she said at the end of it all. “I never knew chemistry could be so very interesting. And I always thought they were made of slugs and snails and puppy-dog tails.”
“Yes, that’s just a myth” Serena replied absently, pointing at the latest sticky mess displayed on the screen. “Complex hydrocarbons mostly.”
“But if you fed them only on slugs and snails – “ Alice began, and Serena – desperate to avoid what she thought might be a demonstration of appalling scientific ignorance by her friend – quickly switched to the physics lesson.
Alice found this even more interesting. There were a lot of different kinds of physics, it seemed, and all of it could be demonstrated by experiments with boys.
Some of the sections introduced more than one physical principle at a time. For example, one long segment dealt both with the effects of increasing weight, in a gravitational field, and also the tensile strength of various bits of a boy’s body. Ultimately, gravity always won, and the segment concluded with a delightful little speculation on how much more weight you would need to attach to a boy’s delicate bits to overcome their tensile strength, on the moon.
“In space no one can hear you scream!” Alice giggled, but her friend, deep in thought, just replied absently “Yes, that’s a downside of conducting experiments off-planet, of course.”
Then there was a segment on electricity, with a particular focus on how well it was conducted across boys’ bodies, or bits of boys’ bodies. Alice was actually already fairly familiar with most of this, but it was good to see it done in such a well-structured way, with steadily increasing voltages compared across different distances at which the electrodes were set, complex instruments measuring the current flow that could only be determined approximately from the intensity of the screams.
Then there were more physical experiments: what happens when a boy is accelerated to 70mph and then encounters a fixed object, different heights to which men could be propelled from the baskets of catapults, and an experiment to demonstrate that a heavy pendulum attached to a man’s testicles and set swinging would gradually trace out a circle over 24 hours (time-lapse photography was used here of course, as the boredom of watching the whole thing would be unbearable).
“And that’s how we know the world turns!” Serena said, triumphantly.
“All from a set of well-tugged balls” Alice breathed in wonder. Her friend relaxed, as she could see that her educational materials were truly starting to engage someone she would readily admit to herself was rather a challenging first audience.
Alice’s favourite experiment was actually a classic. Two men, one old and fat, one young and thin, stood on top of a tower, with Serena standing behind them, while the voiceover droned on about Galileo. What happened next amazed her.
“But surely the fat one should have hit the ground first!” she protested. “I mean, he’s heavier.”
“That’s a common misconception” Serena smiled. “But look – you can disprove it yourself by simple experiment” and she nodded at the screen.
“I’ll have to try it”, Alice remarked, thoughtfully. “Maybe we could use the multi-storey car park…Of course, we’d have to make sure somehow that both were pushed off at exactly the same time… and we’d have to decide whether it’s the first bit hitting or when the whole body has gone splat that counts as hitting the ground, so maybe…”
Serena basked in satisfaction. Her friend had not only understood gravity, but she’d learnt the much more important lesson – the scientific method.
“You see “ she murmured lovingly. “It’s not just about learning stuff. It’s about finding out. Never take anything on trust.”
“But I trust that” Alice said, nodding at the screen. “And I trust you” she added, looking adoringly at her friend.
“And that’s wonderful” Serena replied, giving her a little squeeze. “But you see – everything I did there is reproducible, some of them with just ordinary household objects, so anyone can do the experiment at home, or in the classroom.”
“In mixed schools, they’ve even got the boys to try it out on!” Alice agreed.
“And the teachers” Serena said slyly – and pointed to the screen.
Alice looked and gasped with the shock of recognition. There on screen, suspended by his wrists and twisting ineffectually, was her old science teacher, Mr Greystoke. His eyes looked pleadingly into the camera.
“Ooooh” she breathed. “You found him. Clever, clever you. Is this going to be chemistry or physics?”
“Neither”, her friend laughed. “This is part of the biology course. See?”
And when she pressed the button, a door opened above Mr Greystoke’s head, and almost immediately, little dark shapes appeared, their antennae twitching as they sensed the food source ahead of them. Slowly, like a dribble of treacle, a dark tongue of scuttling figures seemed to reach slowly down to Alice’s old teacher, who was screaming hysterically.
“It can take up to 24 hours for them to strip the body completely” Serena remarked. “Shall we watch it on time lapse?”
“Well…” her friend replied slowly. “I’m not in any hurry. And I’m really interested in following this experiment carefully. Shall we just…leave it on… in the background?”
“In the background? While we do what?” smiled Serena back, gazing happily in to her eyes.
“Oh come here, you scientific genius you” Alice chuckled. “I’m teaching this biology lesson.”
And as their lips met in a loving embrace, Alice glanced at the screen on the wall. They’d just reached his eyes, she noticed, and feeling a surge of excitement she urgently reached out for the warmth and joy of her lover’s touch.
Very short femdom story: Burial plot
house any more?”, Amelia said, sympathetically.
“After nine years of marriage it’s… well, it’s – “
hers.
I went through it with Colin too.
No matter how prepared you are, it feels so odd, with the house empty. But you know, in the long run it’s best. He was in so much pain in the last few years
– and now you can get on with your life.”
“It was just – seeing him being buried at the weekend. I thought I’d be ready. But it wasn’t easy.”
“Would you like to see where he’s buried? I visit every day, you know.”
I’d like that.”
earth made it obvious where Mark’s final resting place was to be found.
“That’s his breathing tube, you see.
The blue one. Then the green one
is for feeding and water. I’ve been feeding him every day, you know. Well – except Tuesday. It was raining too hard.”
to take the time any more, and I expect you’ll install a feeding tank. I only have to fill mine once a month now,
and that’s for both of them.”
two little tubes sticking out of the ground.
A blade of grass growing near the mouth of the blue one quivered from
time to time, as Mark’s breathing disturbed the air.
“I made sure of that. By the end, he could barely scream any more.”
reassuringly. “You’ll always have those
memories. Let’s go and have a cup of tea, and you can try out the new boy.”
house, leaving Mark to rest forever in peace.
Femdom story: Code-talkers
Just another little tale I tossed off, if you’ll excuse the phrase. Don’t read if you’re offended by silliness.
at Jerry’s wedding?”
Don’t you remember? Mark had
messed up that business with the plumbing, and we had a flooded cellar. We had to stay at home to get it sorted out –
I emailed you all about it.”
and she broke off, glancing nervously at the
third member of their party, their aged Great Aunt Maggie, who was sitting
bright-eyed between the two of them, nodding happily.
have had a few stern, errr, words
with Mark after that one.”
grimly. “Lots of words – three dozen that first time around, and then another
session a week later when the plumber’s bill arrived.”
enquired casually. “When you last
emailed me, you said he was playing, errr, playing ‘golf’ rather too often and
you were thinking of putting a stop to it.”
any more. Well…only when I say
so. I’ve got his ‘clubs’ all locked
away, safe and sound.”
occasionally?”
practice, you know. I’ve heard that
‘golf balls’ have to be used every month or so, otherwise they can get damaged.”
myself!” Great-Aunt Maggie burst in unexpectedly. “Just grown-ups playing marbles if you ask
me. And snooker – that’s just as
bad. Tennis. I used to like watching tennis.”
encouragingly. “Did you watch Wimbledon
this year?”
puzzled. “I’m not sure, dear.” She
replied. “Was that nice Mr Borg
playing? I’m sure he won something,
didn’t he?”
been a year or two earlier, Mags” Emily said, uncertainly and the three sat in
silence for while.
prompted, after a while. “I expect you
still keep his ‘golf clubs’ locked away, mmm?
With spikes, if I remember rightly.”
have told you about it?”
Maggie butted in, apparently pleased to be on her home turf of ailments and
remedies.
and she caught her cousin’s eye – “to have his ‘tonsils’ taken out.”
replied. “Much better off without them.”
any more.”
operation?”, Alison asked with interest, as she had been thinking about arranging
for Mark to have his ‘tonsils’ removed too.
breathlessly. “It was great! They strapped him dow – I mean, they bandaged
him up tightly, and then they let me watch as they removed each of them in
turn. They even let me do the final
little snip. Gosh, it was so
exciting! I had a – errr – hot flush right there in the operating
theatre!”
Alison asked, beginning to feel the stirrings of a ‘hot flush’ herself, and
wondering whether Great-Aunt Mags would mind if the two excused themselves and
went upstairs to visit their old bedrooms.
you don’t want it” her cousin replied, giggling. “He made quite a fuss, especially just before
the first ‘tonsil’ came off – I mean, ‘out’.”
tonsils afterwards” she added, casually.
“They’re in a little jar in my bedside drawer.”
breathed. “So is David much more obedi –
I mean, is he a bit more co-operative now?”
every time. And he also – ”
that!” Great-Aunt Maggie broke in.
place clean. Cos before that we’d just
had gas, and that wasn’t the same, not at all.
Your Great Uncle Bert liked the gas, but I said, ‘no – we’re moving with
the times, Bert, we’re going electric.”
Alison, indulgently.
electric installed, I said ‘Right Bert, this is how it’s going to be from now
on. This is the future, this is.’ And he
didn’t know the first thing about it! He
said, what’s it do then, Mags? That’s
what he said.”
then, Mags?”
technical, wasn’t Bert. So I showed
him! I plugged a cable into that socket
– we only had the one socket when we first got the electric put in – and I
attached one wire to the tip of his willy, using a hairclip, and shoved the
other up his arse and switched it on! Oooh,
he found out what it did then! You
should have seen him jumping about screaming ‘Switch it off, Mistress, I’ll be
good Mistress!’ Never had a moment’s
trouble from him after that – housework all done, all my meals served in bed
and a lovely bit of oral every Sunday morning before church. Oh – and when we needed a bit of extra money,
to buy a telly for the coronation, it just took one little dose of the electric
and he was off giving hand jobs to demobbed soldiers for two bob a time, just
to get a bit of extra money in.“
used to scare the willies out of him, the electric, old Bert! Even worse than
the birch. He used to say ‘Oh please Mistress, give me two dozen with the
birch instead! Anything but the
electric, Mistress!’ ‘Course, I always
gave him double voltage when he tried to argue like that! And I’d sit on his
face while he was taking it, too!
Lovely, that was. Dear me. Happy days.”
contemplation of times past, as her two great-nieces sat in shocked silence.
oral, dears, I’ve got a lovely 24 year-old strapped to my bed upstairs –
Polish, or Czechyslovenian or one of those places. Doesn’t speak a word of English, but he goes
like a train and he knows what to do with his tongue when you take a flogger to
him. And I’ve got a brand-new strap-on
that’s going to make him squeal a bit too!
So I’ll leave you young people to natter about your golf and tonsils,
and I’ll take myself off for an early night and a good hard fuck. See you in the morning, dears.”
Femdom story: Locked
Well, I’ll bet no one has ever written a femdom story with that title before! Anyway, here’s my take on it.
Locked
Mrs Taylor?” the doctor asked, stepping quickly to the side of the tall blonde
lady standing over the hospital bed.
Janet nodded dumbly.
“Yes…yes. I’m
fine. It’s just a bit of a shock, that’s
all. Seeing him – like this. I mean, it’s just as you described it, of
course. But somehow it’s different
seeing it for real.”
quite some getting used to”, she said.
“But he’s still in there. It’s
still your husband.”
“Yes, it’s still my Alan in there.
But he can’t move a muscle?”
“His internal muscles like the heart are all in good working order. And look – you see? – he can still blink his
eyes. That’ll make it a lot easier to
look after him – no need for eyedroppers to keep the eyeballs moist, you
see. But otherwise, no muscular control
at all. Yet he can feel everything.”
fingertips up the inner thigh of her immobilised husband. “And he can see as well?”
“Although of course he can’t control what he’s actually looking at. But you can move the eyeballs – no, here, let
me do it. It’s best to wear gloves.”
flicked each eyeball round so that Alan was staring right at his wife. The effect was a little uncanny, but Janet
forced herself to smile.
pinching a small roll of Alan’s flesh between her fingers. Steadily she compressed it, letting her
elegant nails dig deeply into the flesh.
She watched the tiny buds of blood appear as she gently sawed her nails
from side to side, and smiled again in satisfaction.
murmured, and put her hand to her mouth to taste the blood.
shrugged. “Everything’s fine; he’s fully
recovered from the operation. Those
marks on his wrists and ankles will go away in a few days. They’re just from where he was struggling
when he was restrained.”
“It seems so strange now, seeing him so silent and peaceful like
this. The last time I saw him he was
thrashing about and screaming and begging so frantically…it’s a good thing he
was so firmly tied down.”
told what the operation is really for” the doctor replied. “I
used to prefer them to be anaesthetised, but I’m quite used to it now. As long as the head and upper body are held
quite firmly, I can operate no matter how much of a fuss they’re making.”
eyes now looking away from them, and showed Janet a small, neat scar on the
back of his head, just above the neck.
whole body, and that was pretty straightforward, just a quick cut through the
spinal cord and it’s done. But tailoring
it so that he can still feel, is very delicate work – and leaving the eyelids
operational is a skilled job. It took
over four hours for the whole thing, and he was conscious all the time. Nowadays I rather enjoy the screaming and
pleading, so I leave those nerves until last.”
do you?” Janet enquired.
It was mostly just pitiful pleading at that point. ‘Please don’t do
this. Oh please, please. For pity’s sake.’ That kind of thing. Is it important?”
“I just wondered.”
the doctor remarked. “We have to tie all
the cut ends up neatly, so we could reattach them if need be. Are you likely to want to bring him back?”
listening to this Alan? – what I thought I might do, is roll two dice every
year, on the anniversary of the operation. If he gets a double six, I promise
I’ll bring him back and he can be fully restored. For a month.
Then I’ll put him back like this.”
able to move and speak again. A one in
36 chance each time.”
that it won’t be forever. It’ll make the
misery of his existence just that bit harder to bear.”
to wait for the dice. If I chose to, I
could let him out at any time!”
the doctor smiled back. “But it must be nice to have that control.”
husband’s head back again so that he was staring at them. His eyes started blinking furiously.
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Now this next bit won’t hurt…it’s the bit after that hurts. |
Naughty words
Just a brief, non-image post today, because –
OK, OK maybe just one image to make the links columns more attractive, here you are:
Wow, it just kept getting bigger…and longer…
So…this started out as a caption. But somehow it grew and grew.
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Unsatisfied with your performance, by the look of it |
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Plenty of motivation here |
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Janine. Isn’t she sweet? |