Capital Punishments
David Shagton was walking the streets of London with his previous prefect peer, William Shanks. After meeting and eating at their hotel, they’d taken the tube train from PADDINGTON. Iron Will had commented upon how some of the starkly utilitarian concrete passageways really WERE rather reminiscent of the so-called Bakerloo corridor at St Stricktlands School. Or was it the other way around? They’d alighted at OXFORD CIRCUS and headed out into the centre of Soho.
First stop had been Parkers, at № 6 BARE LANE. His firm friend had never known from where most of the….well, sticks used at The Styx had originated. They’d spent almost an hour browsing through the huge selection, and in the end Iron Will had purchased a Malacca model, which he’d had posted home. It had been just before closing time when they’d left the shop. He’d proposed their performance at On-Stage Stooge for about 6pm, as it ought to avoid any undue congestion….on stage.
“You know something, Shagger,” he said, “when we saw those new Touch-Up Teams….” based on The Burdizzo Babes, “….I had a horrible urge to throw open my Lee van Cleef cloak.” He could well understand it. “They’re there to stop sex-pests Touching Up Talent on tube trains, Will,” he said instead, “however my philandering father always cautioned me to draw a dividing line between role-play and reality. You’ll have your chance of exposure in front of fetching floozies soon enough….without being arrested.”
Or getting his groin grilled with The Cattle Prod. “I know what you mean, Shagger,” he said ruefully, “but it was still a terrible temptation.” Then they reached BERWICK STREET, as usual completely clogged with parked cars….despite the double yellow lines. They continued past plenty of brightly-lit peep-shows on offer, and stopped at a single badly-lit wooden door.
On-Stage Stooge
Male members only – enquire within for membership
Lovely Ladies welcome without charge
Opening hours 7pm – 2am Mondays – Saturdays
“This is us, Will,” he said, pushing it open, “the gaudy stuff you saw outside is for tourists who want a quick flash of flesh. They’re essentially clip joints, and often ones which will relieve you of your wallet long before any real relief….” he shivered as they stepped inside to semi-darkness, “….what we have here is extremely expensive, but honest erotic entertainment….and there’s no booze on the premises. We’ll sort out our admissions at the window.”
It was essentially the same lecture as he himself had been given a few months previously. On his first visit here, he’d been accompanied by one Falstaff Geiger, the Marketing Director for Foibles Books & Magazines PLC. They stopped at what appeared to be a mirror. He strongly suspected it was one-way glass, and someone inside was inspecting them carefully? “My name is David Shagton,” he said politely, “and this is William Shanks. We’re both claiming guest status….by kind courtesy of your member with password DV69.”
There was a short silence, and then the green light blinked twice. “Follow me, Will,” he said as they stepped through the metal turnstile, which clanked each time. So the fix had clearly worked, and they were set for sin in Soho. Then he saw the sign which stated >>>>Backstage>>>>. There was a second, likewise labelled <<<<Auditorium<<<< pointing in the opposite direction. They continued along the dark narrow passage, and finally reached the otherwise empty wings. There was a row of pegs plus coat hangers, none of which were taken. A second set sported what appeared to be an assortment of role-play wear.
“We’ll stack our shoes and socks, Will,” he said, “but keep our cloaks. Then put on your panties….should anyone in our appreciative audience be bothered about taking pretty pictures for posterity….” he placed fuckable Fleur Phelps’ naughty knicks over his nose, and his head swam slightly at her choice cunt scent. Next it was on a black mortarboard, and then he selected a cap from the six such, “….this will do very nicely for you, Will….since it’s from St Swishings….” St Swithins School, which The Fall Guy had attended. He held it high, noting the embossed outlines of three canes, complete with the motto nihil autem ferula, “....Nothing But The Cane, since like me you were a German garçon....” his previous prefect peer put it on. Next he lifted a long punishment cane from its peg, followed by a birch, “....we can go on stage whenever we wish, since there’s no queue.”
Exactly as he’d hoped….pressing the red button and speaking into the microphone to announce their act. “Good evening, lovely Ladies….” he said, his voice muffled slightly by the material. Fortunately it was amplified over the sound system, “….and anyone else out there….” there was mild mirth, “….for your delectation and delight, the weapon will be wielded by Wanker Boy Will, plus posterior punishment purveyed by Panty Pervert Pete. We’ll be stating a selection of the so-called standard subbie swishing sentiments.” He heard a ragged round of applause as William Shanks accompanied him on stage, both blinking at several bright spotlights. There were perhaps six or seven dozen deviant Dames and damsels, many more than before. Possibly the word had gone around….although it might simply be because it was a Friday?
“Wanker Boy Will’s to be the first sinful schoolboy, Mesdames et Mesdemoiselles,” he said, “so shed your cloak, and strut your stuff….” he did so, to several gasps as it was folded neatly to the floor. Impeccable tidiness had been caned into him during seven long years at The Styx, “….eight inches of erotic enjoyment. Stimulate your scrotum, stroke your shaft and confess your considerable crimes.” He bent forward slightly, and took himself in hand. “Please Sir….uhhh,” he said, his voice likewise muffled, “I’ve been purchasing pornographic publications….uhhh….whilst wanking worthlessly, Sir….uhhh….plus pathetic Panty Perversion.” FLASHH….it seemed someone WAS taking filthy photos. “So what do you suggest we do about it?” he asked rhetorically.
“Please Sir….uhhh,” he replied, “a beating down to the balls, Sir….uhhh….and then beat my balls.” Clearly the appreciative audience agreed, since he saw several sluts nodding. “It will be a dozen due in total for such sins,” he announced, “commencing with competent cuts from the cane. Turn around and bend over….when we’ll begin your beating, bad boy….” he duly did so, “….which will be pairs, in the staccato style I always thought you possessed a particularly pert and punishable posterior….” he watched it wiggle, “….with one more whack for Incitement. You may still stroke whilst you’re struck….without charge.”
Swishhhhthwackkkkk Swishhhhthwackkkkk
“Ooo..HOO….TWO, thank you, SIR….uhhh,” he gasped. “Second and subsequent strokes in the staccato style always sting much more,” he explained, “since they strike the same spot. You’ll see there’s only a single stripe, as I’m an absolute expert with the cane. Wanker Boy Will is using the Rhyming Responses for the rattan.” He glanced at the lovely Ladies, who were clearly captivated. “Ooo….Sir….uhhh,” he moaned, also playing to the gallery, “be HARD with me….uhhh….since I’m hard with you.” There were several sniggers….FLASHH.
Swishhhhthwackkkkkkkk Swishhhhthwackkkkkkkk
“Yi..HI….FOUR, thank you, SIR….uhhh,” he gasped. “Which was one of the so-called Hurting Hellos,” he confirmed, “doubtless you’ll hear the second such in a….well, second.”
Swishhhhthwackkkkk Swishhhhthwackkkkk
“Yayy..HEYY….SIX….six of the very best, thank you SIR,” he gasped, “my seat should suffer substantially for my shaft’s sins, Sir….uhhh….I should know by now not to purchase porn, Sir….uhhh.” A lost cause. “Not only therapeutic,” he mused, “but also thoroughly thelephthoric….” he could see several sinful sluts softly stroking their skirts, with various vacant expressions of ecstasy, “….which is a good grandiloquism, or Big Word. It means that which corrupts ladies….” more mirth, “….however Wanker Boy Will’s obviously failed an erection inspection, so there’s another three for the Thrill Of A Thrashing.”
Swishhhhthwackkkkk Swishhhhthwackkkkk Swishhhhthwackkkkk
“Yeowww..OWW..WOWW….a nasty NINE thank you, SIR….uhhh,” he gasped. “We’ll conclude your caning with a cut to the crotch,” he said, “so turn round, hands behind your head and spread your legs wide.” He did so, wearing a wan smile. “Wanker Boy Will has stitched the so-called swishees’ smirk,” he continued didactically, “as often offered by culpable canees in class as a prelude to public punishment, although here it’s a postscript. What it says is, ‘I know how much my hit hiney will hurt,’ and absolutely apt for the action.”
Swishthwack “….UGHHH,” he moaned as his scrotum was struck, “a total of ten, thank you Sir….huhh….me balls, Sir….huhh….huhh….perhaps a couple more cuts, Sir….uhhh….I can see some semen seeping from my straining shaft.” A long line of liquid was indeed oozing off the offered organ….Swishthwack “….UGHHH,” Swishthwack “….UGHHH,” he moaned, “a dozen due, Sir….huhh.” FLASHH. “Excellent,” he said, “We appear to have knocked some of the naughtiness out of those nuts. Stand up, and take the Bitching Block from the back. Push it into position, facing forward for flogging….and a second six.” He set down the cane, and collected the birch.
“Over you go, bad boy,” he ordered, “kneel on the lower step, and angle your arms right over so your hands are flat on the floor. It’s almost a position of predicament bondage, only without shackles. What it DOES do is push an adorable arse up in the air, so it’s akin to a Sex Thrashing which strikes straight downwards. For this form of flogging, we’ll use the system of Rapid Responses….” rather rare, “….which require no count, suitable salutation or affirmation of appreciation. It’s apart from the word Whacko! after each pair, and contrition at the close. In the unlikely event anyone hasn’t heard it before, it’s spoken with some subaudition. This is another good grandiloquism, where a word has a different meaning to the one purported. It’s usually used by subbies seeking swishing, and merely means: Please Hit My Hiney Hard.” He watched whilst Wanker Boy Will took his place.
SWISHHCRACKKK “….OWWW….” SWISHHCRACKKK “….OWWW….Whacko!” His head was arched upwards in absolute agony, and he was aware what it was like for a fanny to feel such a flogging. In a few minutes, it would be his turn to sample some of the same. SWISHHCRACKKK “….OWWW….” SWISHHCRACKKK “….OWWW….Whacko! Don’t stop, since I’m certain to spurt, Sir.” It was indeed incredibly erotic, especially when faced with so many fetching floozies. “Should you do so, bad boy,” he replied coldly, “at least it will be with a ruined orgasm. Therefore it won’t adversely affect your poking performance.” SWISHHCRACKKK “….OWWW….” SWISHHCRACKKK “….OWWW….Whacko!” he gasped…. SWISHHCRACKKK “….OWWW….” SWISHHCRACKKK “….OWWW….Whacko!
One more should do it, Sir….uhhh…. SWISHHCRACKKK “….OWWW….YESS….YESS.” Sure enough, some semen had spurted from his straining shaft. “Stand up,” he said without sympathy, “take a tissue….” he handed him one from his pocket, “….and mop up your mess. Give the lovely Ladies a big bow….and then it’s time for you to be the Superior Sir. I shall shed my cloak, as you put on yours, and become the sinful schoolboy.” They did so, switching silently whilst swapping headgear, accompanied by a rapturous round of applause.
“I will punish your posterior….Purvis,” he said sternly, “hold hands behind head, and show the lovely Ladies your straining shaft….” FLASHH “….which is seven inches of circumcised sin, for anyone interested….” exposure and exhibitionism didn’t get any better than this, “….you can take your tanning across a trestle….” of which there was also one at the back, “….place it at the front of the stage, for the best view of your vapulation. It’s yet another good grandiloquism, meaning flogging or flogged….” he lugged it into position, and as always it was like taking one’s own cross, “….bend RIGHT over it, bad boy….on tiptoes.”
At least it didn’t have semi-sharp spikes on the Superior surface, as did the Spanish Donkeys at the Pennance Reformatory. Alas, he’d be feeling those soon enough. “Ohh,” he moaned, now very vulnerable. “As your Headmaster, Purvis,” he said, “confess your crimes.” He took a deep breath. “Please, Sir,” he said loudly, “I’ve been Straying Up Skirts again, Sir….and Staring At Slits, Sir. I also wanted to throw open my cloak on the tube train on the way over, and give the Touch-up Teams a treat.” There were several sniggers.
“But you didn’t,” he pointed out, “although I too admit the terrible temptation. However I’m the one dishing the discipline, which is utterly unfair, but the school rule addresses the issue: Don’t Expect Fairness, Since There Isn’t Any. The idea of Indecent Intent equals an actual action, so it’ll be the standard six for Straying Up Skirts, plus three as an additional apology to the Touch-up Teams. Then there’s a further flogging, if applicable, following an erection inspection….” it would be a nine day wonder if not….” and afterwards a birching over the Block, with six for the sin of Staring At Slits. We’ll say staccato style in threes for each flogging….” he paused, “….are you ready for the rattan….and a really raw rear?” There were several sniggers. “HOOO!” he huffed, “it’s all about the anxious anticipation of awaiting the approaching agonies, an appreciative audience, and also an acutely aching arse, Sir.”
SWISHHHHTHWACKKKK SWISHHHHTHWACKKKK SWISHHHHTHWACKKKK
“YEEE..EEEE..HEEE….THREE, thank you SIR,” he yelped….FLASHH.
SWISHHHHTHWACKKKK SWISHHHHTHWACKKKK SWISHHHHTHWACKKKK
“YEOWW..OWWW..WOWW….SIX, thank you SIR,” he gasped, “I’m so sorry for Straying, Sir….ohh….ohh,” he added as his stripes were stroked with the stick. “Turn around, Purvis,” he ordered, “so everyone can see your neat little bottom….simply Asking for the cane.” So another two dollars for his mythical collection, of when it was complimented. He duly did so.
SWISHHHHTHWACKKKK SWISHHHHTHWACKKKK SWISHHHHTHWACKKKK
“YIKES..YIKES..YIKES….NINE, thank you SIR,” he gasped, “a nasty nine. I know it was naughty, with all those Inappropriate thoughts about those lovely Ladies in such a depraved and deviant fashion.” There was loud laughter. “Would he pass muster, Mesdames et Mesdemoiselles?” asked Iron Will. “NOT A CHANCE, SIR,” called out a vixen’s voice, one he reckoned simply HAD to be Lady Soixante Delia Brusch….60dB. “Very well,” he said, “three more for Being Bothered By Beating.”
SWISHHHHTHWACKKKK SWISHHHHTHWACKKKK SWISHHHHTHWACKKKK
“YEOUCH..OUCH..OUCH….TWELVE….a dozen due, thank you SIR,” he gasped. “Stand up,” he ordered, setting down his cane, “and now it’s your turn to be birched over the Block….in threes.” Out of the frying pan, and into the fire, as he knelt, and raised his head for the fetching floozies to see his face of pure pain….FLASHH. Surely this was some sort of Schadenfreude….the Enjoyment Of Another’s Misfortune?
SWISHHCRACKK “….OWWW….” SWISHHCRACKK “….OWWW.” SWISHHCRACKK “….OWWW….Whacko!” he gasped….SWISHHCRACKK “….OWWW….” SWISHHCRACKK “….OWWW.” SWISHHCRACKK “….OWWW….Whacko!” Thank you for my thrashing, and I’m sorry for Staring At Slits….” he paused, “….please Sir….show me some Superiority, Sir. I need to be knackered naked next….” he spread his legs, temptingly, “….AHHH….AHHH,” he gasped, “squeeze some semen from my sac, Sir….AHHH….AHHH….AHHH….I’m spurting slightly, Sir….uhhh….YESS….YESS.” Success in every packet.
“Stand up, Purvis,” he ordered as he was let loose, “and give a big bow.” He did so, accompanied by thunderous applause. “May we have another hand for my….well, very firm friend….” what wit, “….and colleague in crime,” he said to renewed clapping. Then he collected his cloak and took another tissue to wipe up his own excesses. William Shanks busied himself with returning the trestle and Block to their rightful places. Then with their weapons, they padded away into the wings. “An amazingly erotic experience, Shagger….” he said as they hung up the cane and birch, followed by cap and mortar-board, “….everything I’d hoped….and more.” Next they replaced their shoes and socks.
“Keep your panties in place, Will,” he replied, “since all members and guests are photographed leaving the Club. An AudioVisual Record of our performance will be posted to you at home, along with a Comment Card. Mostly you’ll have Happy Hookers suggesting sex….or swishing, but there can be any amount of other interesting feedback.” Then it was back along the narrow passage, past another sign, >>>>Side Exit to Occasion ALLEY>>>>. “How will the Club know my address, Shagger?” he asked curiously. “Sir Digby Vaillance will have given it to them,” he replied as they followed it gingerly, “when he made your guest booking. He’ll have obtained it from your confidential school records….after all, he IS a Governor.”
Then they reached the fire-door, where a fetching floozy was waiting, wearing a business suit….and also a full female figure in furs. “Well done, both of you,” said Theresa The Teaser, “Soixante and I have already introduced ourselves. She’s most anxious to make Wanker Boy Will’s acquaintance again. She understands he’s now been much more fully....well, Reformed since the last time they met, and is hoping for some suitable sex slave service.” William Shanks’ eyes shone, as he examined his new Mistress. “Delighted, Ma’am,” he murmured, offering his hand, “I’m sure you’ll find my skills with oral appreciation to be far better than before, and I’d be honoured to be your toyboy.”
She hugged him hard. “EXCELLENT,” she said, “I ASSUME YOU’VE TRANSPORT BOOKED, SHAGGER?” Indeed so. “I asked Ambrosia to arrange it,” he said as he pushed open the one-way release bar and peered outside. Yes….Clandestine Cabs was waiting, so he stepped out, with the Shop Manageress under his arm ….FLASHH went the security camera. Then the others followed….FLASHH. “Mr Purvis….?” asked the driver, and he nodded, “….how long would you wish the journey back to your hotel?” Three faces registered surprise. “You can drive straight there,” he replied, as they climbed inside, “the cab company has no objection to naughty nooky, and anyway it’s all available on AV Record….given to us upon arrival….ahhh….” he added as he sat down, “….ahhh,” echoed William Shanks.
“PAINFUL POSTERIORS?” suggested 60dB, “PERHAPS YOU’D BOTH PREFER TO SHED THOSE CLOAKS AND DRAPE YOURSELVES OVER OUR KNEES? THEN WE CAN RUB YOUR RAW REARS. I’D WONDERED WHY THERE WERE TINTED WINDOWS. I’LL TAKE WANKER BOY WILL, SINCE HE’S TO BE MY BEAU….AND TOYBOY.” They both obliged, folding them neatly, as the cab turned onto BERWICK STREET and then sped away. “Ohh….” they both moaned, “….Uhhh,” he added as she locked his prick between her legs. “Uhhh,” he heard opposite. Almost at once he was away on Planet Pleasure, with a haze of well-being from fanny fondling. “IT’S NO GOOD,” she said, “I SHALL SIMPLY HAVE TO SPANK HIS SEAT.” Smackk Smackk “….Oww….uhhh,” moaned Iron Will. “I agree, Soixante,” replied Theresa Taser….Smackk Smackk “….Oww….uhhh,” he repeated as they stopped at what were either traffic lights or an intersection. He couldn’t see which, since his head was down.
After forever he felt the cab draw to what seemed to be a final halt. “We’re here, guv’nor….” called out the driver through the glass partition, “….the fare’s prepaid, if you’d care to collect your AV Record, you’ll see there’s a slot.” Carefully, he extracted it. “Who’d like this, as a suitable souvenir?” he asked. “I WILL,” said 60dB, “SINCE I DARESAY THERESA HAS NO SHORTAGE OF SUCH SIN IN HER SHOP.”
Completely correct, as Foibles Books & Magazines had its own Adults only area. “I shall go as I am, Will,” he said, “since it’s only a quick flash….and a crime I’ve already committed on a couple of occasions.” He picked up his cloak, and opened the door. “I’m game, Shagger,” said Iron Will as Lady Soixante Delia Brusch handed the driver an NP6 note as a tip. “Thanks, Ma’am,” he muttered, as they all emerged, “you’re a real toff.” Which indeed she was. Then they hurried across the pavement and into the sanctity of the hotel reception area. “GOODNIGHT….PETER,” she said. “Goodnight, Soixante,” he replied, “and Wanker Boy Will.” His previous prefect peer waved once.
“Thanks again for everything….Peter,” he replied as he strode away with cloak and pretty partner under each arm, “….au revoir, until Summer School,” As a permanent resident, Lady Brusch hadn’t had to hand in her room key. “Could we have ours please, Ma’am?” he asked of Irma Ambrose at the desk. “Here we are, Peter,” she replied, “how went the show?” Theresa The Teaser smiled widely. “Wonderful,” she said, “it’s fair to say their duo of derrière discipline brought the house down. I expect they’ll both be inundated with offers on each Comment Card….” SMACKK “….Oww,” he gasped from a Sexist Smack, “….hurry UP. We don’t have all night….unfortunately.”
Quickly, they continued to the lift, which was already on its way down. Hopefully this was 60dB being considerate, or someone would shortly be in for a sordid shock? Fortunately it arrived empty, so they stepped straight inside, and he pressed the 3rd floor button. “The least I can have is a free fanny fondle,” she muttered, “which I was wanting to do all through Panty Pervert Pete’s performance.” In reverse circumstances the liberationists would be baying for blood. It opened, and they continued along the corridor.
Salon 306
He stood aside for her to pass first. “Very swish, Shagger,” she said, inspecting all the available arsenal of bondage furniture, “to see how the other half lives. Corporate hospitality can be a wonderful thing, when your pay-grade’s high enough….which alas mine isn’t….” he hung up his cloak, and put the pair of panties into his attaché case. Then he used the bathroom, before stacking his shoes and socks, “….get your body across to one of the twin beds. I suppose it has shackles….?” he nodded, and obeyed, “….spread your limbs.” She turned down the covers, and he arranged himself carefully.
“Ohh….ohh,” he gasped as his wrists and ankles were each immobilized. “The other way round, this would be called rape, Ma’am,” he muttered. “Obviously,” she replied airily, “but studs should simply lie back and enjoy it….and be grateful they’re getting the goods.” The same sentiments as had been suggested to sinful sluts over the centuries….and it had all been awful. Now however, the lovely Ladies Liberation Lobby seemed strangely silent on the subject.
Unexpectedly, the telephone on the bedside cabinet sounded….RING RING. She leaned across him to answer it, both beautiful breasts only inches from his face….and he wasn’t even a boobs boy. “Salon 306….” she said softly, followed several seconds later by, “….Peter Purvis? He’s a little tied up at the moment….” ha bloody ha, as always, “….however I’ll put the phone onto speaker. Go ahead, caller.”
There was a loud CLICKK. “Good evening….Peter,” said a vixen’s voice, “we haven’t spoken, but we HAVE met….well, sort of….” what WAS she on about? “….I was in your appreciative audience earlier at On Stage Stooge….” Ohh, “….and wondered whether we might meet….in the flesh, so to speak?” Was she seriously suggesting sex with a stranger? “I’m honoured to make your acquaintance, Ma’am….” he was interrupted, “Miss,” she said, “or rather Lady….Alicia Ariadne Anouska Helen Harborne, since daddy’s a belted earl.” If this was what one did with them? “….although I’m slightly surprised. The Club doesn’t normally pass on such requests, welcome though yours is, apart from via a Comment Card.”
There was a slight snigger, coupled with a Clickk. “They didn’t do so,” she said, “the only reason I know where you are is because I attended together with a lovely Lady called Scary Sari….” Ohh, “….I’m with her right now, in the centre of a six hour session….” so SHE was the subbie slut which the Dominatrix had described, “….some of those superb swishing sentiments really spoke to my sinful psyche. I was wet whilst watching you and Wanker Boy Will, and wanted whacking as well. Alas, at the Russia House, the wanton wicked Witches didn’t wield weapons. Fortunately I was flogged firmly at finishing school, where they tanned Tarts on the tush….huhh….”
clearly she was somewhere down memory lane, “….although as a pussy and pumpkin pain pervert, I’d have liked to take some taps with the tawse on twat and tits too, but they didn’t do such deviance. So I was wondering whether you might graciously agree to an hour of Domination taken together at around eleven o’clock tomorrow morning? Sari says we can finish early this evening, and she’ll carry my time forward….” there was a short pause, “….all those Big Words….and a big dick, naturally enough. Obviously you’ll be wanting to screw Sari, since she’s prepaid pussy, but would you have the wherewithal to service a second slit?”
Easily achieved. “Yes, Miss….err….Lady Alicia, I mean,” he replied, “since it amounts to a Bi-some threesome, something with which I’m well acquainted. But you could sample school style stick and swishing session, supplying some of the sentiments you so obviously sought.” There was a girlish giggle. “Excellent,” she said, “being a Bi Babe, I enjoy plenty of penetration, either by penis or suitable strap-on. Do forgive me for asking, but you ARE a mere male of monetary means? Daddy says since I’m a rich Bitch….well, heiress actually, there’s no shortage of gold diggers out there. I’d imagine you are, since Sari’s strict services don’t….well, cum cheap.” Nothing like being up front….and to ensure money stayed in the fold. “I wouldn’t wish to claim anything I’m not, Mademoiselle,” he said, “since I’ve neither fame nor family fortune. Fortunately, I do have a Patron, a noble knight who helps smooth my stony path….and who’s put me on the corporate payroll. Also, for what it’s worth, my wedding is next month. Your father may rest assured I’m not about to steal his darling daughter’s hand under false pretences.”
There was another Clickk on the line, and he suspected Ambrosia was Eavesdropping again. “So you’re sowing some wild oats, Peter?” she asked, “a final fling before being dragged into monotonous monogamy?” She didn’t seem especially enamoured with the idea, but perhaps daddy had suggested some….well, unsuitable suitors? “Not at all,” he said instead, “since ours is to be a completely open-Marriage. I shall be attending University in the autumn, in a ménage-a-cinq.” There was a slight sniff.
“I rather recall a sixties spy spoof,” she said, “a super-stud secret agent series of film flicks. Derek Flint had a harem of four floozies as permanent playmates….” and in the first, he’d ended up with five, “….but the Bimbos were brainwashed by the bad’uns, and reduced to the ranks of penile pleasure units. As a serious subbie slut, I’d certainly sign up….and do call me Licia, since I don’t stand on ceremony. I suppose you’re a switch, since it seemed so on stage. I can’t cope with Dominant dolts, only after one thing….” eat your heart out, Richard Sharp, “….by the way, is Wanker Boy Will with you?” He smiled, although obviously she couldn’t see it. “No….Licia,” he replied, “he’s upstairs….as someone’s sex slave….” to another titled Tart, “….but you’re correct about my disciplinary disposition, since it’s sixdy-sixdy….six dozen to the gross, or even-steven. Sari will only see my subbie side….although I could be Masterful with you, if you wish.” There was a long pause.
“Were you known at school as Panty Pervert Pete?” she asked. “No,” he replied, “it was Shagger.” There was a snigger. “Why am I not surprised, Peter,” she asked, “can you guess MY nickname?” Easy-peasy. “From what you’ve told me,” he replied, “I’d say an acronym of AAAHH….with three A’s and two H’s.” There was barely disguised laughter. “Impressive,” she said. “I’ve become quite a considerable comiconomenclaturist over the years,” he opined, “which is another good grandiloquism. It merely means a collector of funny names.” There was more mirth. “There you go with the Big Words again, Peter,” she said, “so goodnight, and I’ll look forward to screwing you soon, always assuming I don’t….well, snuff it first.” Oops….since Scary Sari’s sessions certainly seemed serious.
“Goodnight, Licia,” he replied, and then there was another voice. “Whilst you’re on the line, Peter,” said the professional prostitute, “I’ll ask you for any particular peccadilloes or prohibitions. Obviously I want your erotic experiences to be enjoyable….even if they’re not, so to speak.” He pursed his lips. “As you’ve already seen, Ma’am,” he said, “I like having huge helpings of humbling and humiliation, plus plenty of punishment. Certainly I should be stripped and whipped. I always accept a Caning For Cunt, even if it’s been prepaid in new-pounds. I take testicular torments and tool torture with a properly painful penis, and I too would like some Snuff Stuff. I’m not into any anal intercourse, however attention to an adorable arse is absolutely acceptable, with any amount of face-sitting. I’m not fond of fellatio, being a convert to cunnilingus….although I’ll understand if it’s not allowed….” so often the case with Happy Hookers, “….hopefully I’ve described sufficient sins to keep us gainfully occupied?”
There was a short pause, and he had the impression she was writing down this deviance. “Licia enjoys painful pussy penetration,” she mused, “so you can both countenance considerable crying and cumming….whilst I take pretty pictures of your poking pain….” Oo..er, yes, MA’AM, “….goodnight, Peter.” Then she’d gone.
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