Description
by Greg Cline
She had three submissive men at her command, but it was David who caused Jerry to look long and hard at her lifestyle. The problem was that she had deep feelings for him, whereas the other two were no more than regular houseboys. With the advice from her friend Giselle in Paris, she decided to administer severe punishment to David, to break him down so that she could rebuild his character as she wanted him. It was not that simple. Hurting him was causing her pain, and so when Giselle agreed to complete David’s punishments at her house of dominant women in Paris, Jerry readily agreed and David found himself at the mercy of some very different and very sadistic ladies…
Published: 10 / 2010
No. words: 47100
BDSM/Bondage, Fem Dom – F/M, Sex Slavery / Training, Spanking and Bondage 
Jerry felt her lack of consistency was a fault. She should have been able to control her feelings of sympathy, enjoying them when she pleased and putting them aside when necessary. In everything she did, she excelled, and this was to be no different. She was a perfectionist. She was going to teach David a lesson he would never forget, and there would be no backsliding.
As positive reinforcement, she had agreed to keep Giselle apprised of the outcome. A little like telling someone you are giving up smoking, she supposed. You will feel a little more pressured if you do not see it through. She had discussed the scope of the punishment with Giselle who had agreed it seemed fitting. There had, however, been many times before when she had had a severe punishment regimen mapped out in her head, but it had all fallen by the wayside when push came to shove. She ground out her cigarette, rose to her feet, and walked toward the balcony door, her grey-green eyes the resolute shade of cold steel.
“You are obviously aware I am a little miffed,” she said on entering the room, her heels clacking on the polished floor. David stood with his hands on his head in the middle of the room. He looked at her, unsure as to whether to reply verbally or to get down and perform his head banging ritual.
“Unfortunately, I will have to suffer your drivelling, as I require a conversation with you regarding your many shortcomings. Answer me.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he replied. She walked to the lounge and sat down eyeing him. Saying nothing, she removed her shoes.
“Good,” she said rising from the chair and walking towards him. “Then you will be expecting what you have coming then, won’t you?” He remained silent. She encircled his cock and balls at their base with her finger and thumb, and slowly tightened her grip.
“Up on your toes, cunt,” she hissed, yanking him upwards. “I asked you a question,” she said, squeezing his balls for emphasis.
“Ahh,” he cried.
“Answer!” she demanded, squeezing harder.
“Ahh. Yes, yes, yes,” he rasped.
“Yes what, cunt?” she snapped, letting go his balls, and landing a stinging slap on the right hand side of his face.
“Ahh. Sorry, yes, I know you are going to punish me,” he said, his head snapping back he came down off his toes and stumbled backwards to regain his balance. She lunged forward, grabbed him by the balls once more, and yanked him back up on his toes.
“I don’t remember saying you could come down off your toes, do you?”
“No, Mistress,” he mumbled.
“Then please do as you are fucking well told,” she snapped, giving his balls another upward yank.
“You are way out of line,” she mused, releasing her hold and walking slowly around him, running her hand idly over his body. “The cat’s away, the mice will play etc.,” she mumbled to herself, not expecting an answer. She stood behind him, gently fondling his ass with both hands as she leaned forward. “Going to have to spank this good and hard,” she hissed into his ear as she dug her fingernails into his buttocks, and squeezed, “You ain’t going to sit down for a week.”
He was now trembling all over, not from the threats but from standing up on his toes. She released her grip and moved around to face him. She smiled as he struggled to remain up on his toes.
“Time to get started,” she quipped.
“Down!” He dropped back down off his toes, an expression of relief spread across his face.
“Legs apart!” she ordered, and he obeyed silently.
“We will start with you where you should be, on the floor, grovelling.”
He began to make a move to get down on the floor.
“Stay where you are,” she snapped.
“When I want you down I will put you there,” she said, taking hold of her tailored skirt at each side. She eased it up to allow her legs more freedom of movement.
“You know what’s coming?” she cooed.
“Yes,” he stammered.
“Close your eyes.”
He obeyed.
“Ready?” she inquired.
“No,” he whined
“Ready!?” she repeated louder.
“No,” he pleaded.
“Not what I want to hear,” she mocked. “Ready!?” she repeated for the third time.
“Yes, Mistress,” he sighed, resigned.
She waited. He stood, eyes closed in darkness as the seconds ticked by at an agonizing pace. It seemed like an hour, yet it had only been a minute. He found himself thinking, I wish she would get it over with, at the same time hoping she would decide against it. It was a mark of her mental domination over him; she was forcing him to wish pain on himself. The thought of that began to give him an erection. She observed the stirring, and savoured the adrenaline rush of power.
“A little wider apart, please,” she requested. He shuffled his legs a little wider apart. It must be coming soon.
“Now jiggle those balls. I fancy a moving target.” He began gyrating his hips back and forth as instructed. He could feel his balls slapping against his thighs as his erection grew harder.
“Very nice,” she said, sarcastically.
Then it came: a swift kick, a blinding flash, and he was down on the floor in the foetal position, clutching his balls and moaning.
“In your own time,” she said, presenting her right foot at his groaning lips. It took a full minute for him to gather himself enough to kiss the foot that had laid him low. With her hands on her hips, she rocked her foot back on her heel, raising her toes off the ground.
“Make it good” she said, “Convince me you are down and completely submissive or I will repeat the dose.” He immediately took the whole width of her foot in his mouth, worshiping for all he was worth. Yes, he wanted to avoid a second helping, but he was also very sincere in his endeavours. The kick had indeed done the trick.
Presently, she withdrew her foot from his mouth and ordered him up on the coffee table kneeling on all fours. She placed a chair behind him and sat down.
“Spread your legs,” she demanded. Reaching forward, she wrapped a small leather strap with a leash D ring around the base of his balls, cinching it tight.
“This strap will aid in keeping you nice and hard for the duration,” she said, “Another will attempt to cool your ardour, a battle of the straps if you will.” Laughing, she rose from her chair, reached under her skirt, and removed her panties.
“As a special treat, a spanking mask,” she enthused, placing her freshly removed panties on his head, making final adjustments as to positioning.
To say he was apprehensive was an understatement, and her reaching between his legs to gently rub his cock only increased his anxiety. She stood back and admired her handiwork. Satisfied, she walked to the sideboard, and after a moment’s thought selected a strap. Returning to stand in front of him, legs slightly apart, tapping the strap on her left hand, she took a deep breath to steel herself, and said without a trace of pity or compassion, “Twenty. Ten standing with a mask; ten running with a gag, I think.”
He was not completely sure what she meant, but he was quite sure he was about to find out. Moving the chair out of the way, she positioned herself behind him and to his left. Measuring off the distance with the strap, she adjusted her stance.
“You will count the first ten, I will count the second,” she announced. “Get your legs together to protect yourself.”
Then she began, raising the strap high and bringing it down with a resounding crack across his ass. Each stroke was immediately followed by another, and within fifteen seconds his strangled cry of “Ten” signalled the end. Immediately, she reached forward and whipped the panties from his head.
“Open!” she demanded, roughly stuffing her panties into his mouth, and then returned immediately to her strapping position.
This time taking four measured steps backwards, she paused a moment and dropped a handkerchief to the floor to mark her spot. Then she began her run up, wielding the strap high as she took the few paces towards him, her eyes firmly fixed on her target, brow furrowed in concentration, she brought her arm through with all the force she could muster. There was a resounding crack as leather met flesh. He was still screaming into his gag as she passed by his shoulder on her follow through. Spinning on her heel, she looked briefly into his bulging eyes.
“That’s one, cunt” she said with a curt nod, before striding purposefully back to her mark.
By the fifth stroke, the thrashing and moaning was constant; at the sixth there were tears. Still she continued, breathing heavily from her exertions, her eyes bright, hard, and shiny, she counted off the remaining strokes. Seven, eight, then nine. Contained, and businesslike, she shut out any thoughts of sympathy for the howling male from her mind; time for that later, accuracy and force is all that mattered now. The tenth was a beauty, the resounding crack was almost deafening, and he writhed insanely clutching at his burning buttocks. She stood in front of him breathing heavily, she regarded his penis with a knowing smile. It was completely soft. Good, she thought. My strap wins.
