Annette's Dad

Part of my mind was rational enough to ponder the ring to which I was chained. It did not seem to have any useful purpose other than that of securing helpless girl flesh so had it been put here for just that purpose? I found myself thinking very hard about the relationship between Annette and her dad.

The dad in question had stooped down and cut off the rope from my ankles so now I wore no rope at all. He began to lecture me.

"I know all about your talks with Annette about bondage. You said you wanted to understand it didn't you."

It was a purely rhetorical question. He continued.

"Bondage is not about ropes it is about control. A true submissive is bound even when she is wearing no ropes at all. She is bound by her master's will so she will obey him even when she has no physical restraints to force her to do so. If our little Julie wants to avoid a very painful lesson I think she needs to show that she knows how to obey."

He followed this statement with a sharp order to stand with my legs apart and, when I obeyed, he twice told me to spread them wider so that I was displaying every intimate fold of flesh for his inspection. I had not really registered that Annette had left us but now she returned carrying two pint glasses full of water.

My need for the loo had now become quite urgent and water was not all what I wanted. He took one of the glasses from Annette and held it to my lips.

"Drink it Julie."

I could not refuse so I sipped the water but he tilted the glass and told me to drink it all. I gulped it down almost choking and spilling some down my chin and onto my boobs. My legs were now jerking about like a toddler who is about to have an accident and I pleaded with him to let me use the loo. He just held up the second glass and I had to obey him.

Eventually I had taken the second pint but now I was feeling terrible cramps in my bladder. I knew that I could not hold it much longer. I was gasping and tears began to run down my cheeks and then, of course, I could not hold it anymore and a long warm stream ran down my legs as my tormentors both watched me. My knickers had been trapped around one ankle and were now soaking and sticking wetly to my foot and the acrid smell was rising to my nostrils. Annette's dad put his arm on her shoulder and steered her out of the cell slamming the door behind them. All I could do was to stand there wishing that my arm was a little longer or the metal ring was a little lower.

I was alone for only a few minutes before Annette returned with a red plastic bucket full of water. I watched horrified as she lifted the bucket and I saw what she was going to do.

"Please No."

The cold water sloshed over my head and into my face then Annette left without a word and I heard the bolt on the door slam home. My hair was soaking and I was cold with my feet in a puddle of urine and cold water. I kicked off my knickers and just stood there. As I said before I had one free hand and, almost of its own accord, it went between my legs. It was the only comfort I had. The light was still on in the cellar but, here in the coal hole, the only light I had was whatever came through the small barred window from the main cellar. The muscles in the arm by which I was chained were soon screaming at me in pain but there was no relief.

Of course I had no means of telling how long I stood there in the half light. I know it was long enough for the two pints of water to work through me and end up trickling down my legs. I must have been put down here some time after lunch time and all I had eaten today had been a single piece of toast before leaving home. My stomach was rumbling and I was feeling totally wretched but at the same time I realised there was a totally irrational thrill that I was enacting the bondage fantasy which I had seen in the magazines. When I returned to my normal life and went to school on Monday Annette and I would share a delicious secret.

Time passed painfully slowly and I was sort of dozing, at least my mind was running in neutral, when Annette came into my cell again carrying that red plastic bucket. I tensed in dread but she smiled and put the bucket down and I noticed the towel draped over her shoulder. My friend took a small key from her pocket and freed me from the handcuffs then she told me to use the flannel which was floating in the bucket of warm, soapy water, to clean myself up so that I did not get pee on the carpets upstairs. I was feeling pretty weak but the feel of the warm water was lovely as I washed myself and then she handed me the towel to dry myself and led me upstairs. Was it over? Was she going to give me my clothes? I was dimly aware that my knickers were still on the floor of the cell.

Once we were upstairs I saw that the blinds were all closed and the lights were on so I guessed it was now dark outside. I leaned onto Annette as we went up to the bathroom where I sponged myself down properly and leaned over the basin to wash my hair. The effect was completed with lots of talcum powder. As I washed I took in the marks on my flesh which had resulted from my ordeal during the day. There was bruising around my ankles and wrists and also purple and black lines around the base of my boobs. My buttocks were no longer red from the spanking but there were just a few very tender purple spots where his knuckles must have caught me. When I returned home I would have to be very careful to keep myself well covered.

Soon I was feeling much better although I was still aware of the empty pit in my stomach. The first little note of discord was when Annette took me along the hall to her dad's bedroom. Why were we going there?

I took in the scene. Her dad was sitting in a chair reading a book and he stood as we entered. A large white bath towel was draped over the end of the double bed and there was rope on the bedcover beside it together with an aerosol can of shaving foam and a pack of disposable razors. I felt Annette's hand on my shoulder as if she were afraid that I might try to run away.

"Come and lie down Julie." Her dad was speaking very firmly; Annette pushed me forward and then her dad put his hand on me and steered me so that I was bent forward over the bed.

"Please don't smack me again. Please."

The moment that the word "please" was out of my mouth I hated myself. That word made it a request as if I was admitting his right to punish me and I was begging for mercy. He did put his hand on my bottom but only to push me forward so that my weight was resting on the bed. Then he dragged my hands behind my back and began to firmly tie them with the palms facing outwards and flapping uselessly in empty space. When I was once again helpless he gripped the side of my body and turned me so that I was lying backwards over the bed with my feet on the floor. He pulled my legs wide apart and looked down at me. In theory I could have closed my legs but I kept still and watched the scene in a sort of slow motion as he reached for the can of foam and sprayed my pubic mound with its rich dark bush. I did not move a muscle or make a sound as he shaved me. I scarcely breathed.

When he was finished I was completely smooth down there as I had not been since I was twelve years old. Looking down at myself it seemed to me to be obscene to be so naked with nothing protecting my little pubic lips but at the same time it harked back to those years of pre pubescent innocence. He ran his hand over the area to feel its smoothness then he squeezed my sensitive area in quite a brutal way which caused my feet to come off the floor and a cry to escape my lips. With that he nodded to Annette and gave us a brusque "Good night girls."

She took me along to her room and I saw that she had a glass of milk and some crackers on the bedside table. She sat me down on her bed and proceeded to lift the glass to my lips and feed me the crackers. As she did so she talked to me about what she and her dad had done to me. It seemed that he had been watching me for some time and he had made her entrap me with those bondage magazines. All our intimate conversations about bondage fantasies had been reported back to her dad so that he could assess me as a submissive. I did not feel betrayed by Annette (well I did at first) as I came to understand that she could not resist her dad. I had finished my supper now and I just sat there, with my hands bound behind me, as Annette undressed and left her clothes on her chair.

We continued to talk as she rendered herself naked and helped me into bed then slipped in beside me and pulled down the duvet over us. I knew that Annette was top of every class she was in at school and she was a Grade Eight flautist and she said a lot of that was due to her dad's discipline. Annette told me that when she practiced her flute her dad took her pants down and fondled her as she played so that she became used to playing under pressure and concentrating on the music no matter what was happening. I could not resist asking the question which had arisen in my mind.

"Does your dad...I mean do you and your dad..um..?" She pressed her finger to my lips to silence me and said nothing but I had my answer.

I had been lying on my side but now Annette pushed me onto my back so that my bound hands were underneath me and she rolled on top of me. Her face came down onto mine and her tongue invaded my mouth as her hand slid down between my legs. She caressed my smooth mound but did not slip her fingers inside me although I begged her to do so. She giggled quietly and told me that I would just have to stay frustrated and deal with it as best I could. Then she rolled off me and whispered a tender good night.

As I lay in the darkness smelling Annette's sweet scent I pondered the things which I had learned of her household. It seemed to me that her dad could not do the things which he did and keep it all secret from her mum but I guessed he was so much in charge that he could do whatever he wished and his wife would just have to watch and say nothing. I squeezed my legs together as I tried to fight off a vision of Annette's mum chained naked downstairs in the coal hole or struggling over her husband's lap with her bare buttocks being punished while Annette looked on.

When we awoke Sunday morning I lay in the half light listening to the birdsong and tried to flex my muscles to fight off the cramps in my bound arms. Annette asked if I had slept well and there was some playful kissing and fondling although a girl with her hands tied behind her back cannot do much fondling. Annette took me along to the loo and watched as I did what I had to do. I noticed that she was not shaven although her ginger fuzz was quite thin and did not hide very much.

Annette pulled on a white towelling robe and we went downstairs where her dad was frying bacon. I said a respectful good morning and sat, still naked and bound, at the table. He said that I could have some toast and marmalade and a drink but it was best if I did not have a full breakfast in view of what was going to happen afterwards. So I had to watch them tuck into bacon and eggs while I sat wondering what was going to happen next. There was a surreal aspect to the meal as I sat at table in their kitchen with my hands tied behind me and her dad's eyes drinking in my exposed breasts as they took turns at feeding me. I imagined my own family probably at breakfast in our own kitchen with no idea that their eldest daughter was here in such a compromising position.

And then breakfast was over and I was led up to his bedroom with Annette walking behind me. His bed was unmade and my eyes were drawn to the thick cane on top of the sheets.

"You have pleased me Julie and I want to send you home with a reminder of what you have begun but I am going to give you a choice. I am giving you the chance to live your fantasy or you could turn away and never know how it would have felt. Do you choose to experience a caning instead of just having to imagine it as most people do?"

I was afraid the words would not come out but I managed to croak a reply.

"I will take my caning Sir."

He positioned a pile of two pillows in the centre of the bed and manoeuvred my nude body so that I was lying over the pillows with my face flat on the purple sheet and my hair covering my eyes. My legs were straight and my bottom was my highest point with my naked pubic mound resting on the pillows. He told me that he was going to give me three on each buttock and that I would be going home with six tender raised wheals across my behind.

Then the first stroke landed right in the centre of my left buttock and I forced my face down into the mattress trying in vain to control my shriek of pain as my legs flailed and my whole body shook.

He allowed me a few seconds before stroke two across my right buttock. After the initial scream I was gasping for air and pushing my face even harder down into the mattress. My bottom was writhing as it tried to absorb the burning pain.

Stroke three was again on the left and I felt the hot tears in my eyes. My arms were going up and down behind my back in an involuntary and pointless effort to fend off the attack. My knees were bent and my legs had come apart but I was oblivious to the view of my pussylips which I must have been giving him.

Of course stroke four was again on the right and I felt the pain could not get any worse. My writhing had caused me to fall sideways off the pillows and he grabbed me by the hips and put me back in place. I was now wailing more or less constantly and not just when I was hit.

It seemed a very long time before the fifth stroke and, for a moment, I wondered if I had miscounted. Had I now taken all six? But then it landed and I opened my mouth as wide as it would go and gave out a piercing scream. My fists had clenched and once again my arms were waving about as were my legs.

The sixth landed almost immediately after the fifth and I was laying there gasping air into my lungs. I had visions of my poor behind streaked with blood and blood running down my thighs onto the bed. In fact he had broken the skin but only just enough to leave a faint trace of blood where two strokes had crossed.

I was weeping and Annette sat on the bed beside me stroking my hair and kissing my cheek. By the time I was sufficiently composed to look around I realised that he had gone and it was just us two girls. I lay on my side as Annette produced a knife from somewhere and cut my wrists free. I very gently put a hand to my bottom and felt the wheals, just touching them made me gasp in pain. It was a little while before I felt able to walk and we went to Annette's room where my clothes had appeared on her bed; her dad must have put them there. I remarked in confusion that I could not find my knickers and Annette told me that I would not be getting them back. Putting on my jeans was agony as the rough fabric rubbed my wounds. I could not sit down to pull on my socks and trainers so it was an extended process of hopping from foot to foot as Annette supported me. It felt strange to be wearing a bra again and when Annette fastened the clasp for me the garment hurt my bruised boobs.

Eventually I was dressed and my hair was brushed but I seemed to hurt everywhere. Annette led me downstairs and her dad was standing in the hallway.

"You have done well Julie. We shall meet again."

That weekend was only the beginning. In future sessions I was bound and helpless on the floor of his beach hut while people chattered happily just a few feet from me. And then there was the time that he invited my parents for sherry one evening when they believed that I was out with friends. What would they have thought if they had seen me naked and chained in the very next room?

You may be wondering if Annette's dad ever did more than just tie me up. Well, yes he did. The first time it was in his camper van parked in the supermarket car park on a Saturday morning and another time he took me in the stairwell of a car park with my bare bum against the cold concrete wall. Whatever we did was at his instigation and at a time of his choosing. It was not for me to raise objections or to ask questions because if I ever forgot that rule the penalty was very severe.