Dr. Shackle and Mrs. Nine Ch. 02

Dr. Shackle and Mrs. Nine

In which female dominance is solidified

Chapter 2

Overnight, Paula's shock had vanished. No more pampering, no second thoughts. She was making plans.

"We have to do it again," Paula said languidly, "soon."

"Oh Ralph, you can't imagine how I longed for that," she suddenly exclaimed and hugged me tightly. Her nipples were hard and her gratitude showed in an unbelievably sweet kiss.

"If it didn't hurt so much," I protested, but Paula was adamant.

"Don't make such a fuss. Sometimes you're such a sissy," she said airily as if getting spanked wasn't a big deal. I did not want to be a pushover.

"You have my cock 'caged, you get tons," I waved my hands, "of face jobs and, and... isn't that enough?" Paula made a face.

"Of course not. Why stop?" Her thighs tensed ever so slightly.

"Ralph, you wouldn't believe how amazing your lip-service has become," was her attempt at appeasing me, before closing with: "thanks to the cock-cage." She went on reminiscing how alluring my butt was and its shivers were.

"And what's in for me?" I asked testily. Paula raised an eyebrow.

"Darling, perhaps you didn't enjoy it as much as I did, but you certainly couldn't wait for it," she stated without being pretentious. Spot on! The anticipation, the tension aroused me more than the belt had hurt me. It's only a little spanking, no big deal, her look seemed to tell. But she had a little pity on me.

"Maybe, if you'd wear spandex or I put some ointment on your skin beforehand. Or I'll take a softer belt. Hmm, what do you think?" I brooded.

"It's all about a good whip. Then you'll be fine," closed Paula the matter. I kept on brooding.

Paula knew how to handle me. She had me wearing a cock-cage and in the nude at home. I got a form hugging muscle shirt, with shoulder straps leaving my nipples exposed and a hem crossing my rear half way down. My cock-cage bobbed when walking; obviously Paula's kind of kink. Probably her gaze following me made me follow her prompting. So that it had become second nature, or did it? Was I missing some element? The whip perhaps?

Even though I never had let anybody spank me, nor use my mouth as rudely as Paula did, I was ok with it. She loved sex and she loved to spank me. That's just the way she is, I told myself. I liked it a bit and Paula had spanked me only a little, so far. There was no malice in Paula's whipping, rather a wild lust filling her, and to some extent, me. I loved the overwhelming sexual intensity.

Which made me realize that I had found purpose in giving Paula pleasure. Much more then that: she got all orgasms through me and as much as she wanted. That made me immensely proud. For every man secretly knows that he's not on par with of a woman's sexual prowess; that's his tragedy. For women, it's men pretending otherwise.

Be that as it may be, it was freedom day. Chrome shackles opened, the iron walls fell to set the poor prisoner free. I left in high spirits for my appointment. Walking was a bit awkward though, I wasn't used anymore to my balls hanging free.

I delivered my load, rather dry and soberly, into a Petri dish. It was that prosaic indeed, because the nurse noticed the cage's tell-tale marks and insisted on checking me. What good is a spermiogram for, if your equipment is damaged, she insisted. An NHS nurse in a starched uniform is not to be trifled with, so I complied.

She put on some gloves and had a good look. I coughed whilst she held my testes, weighing them, before she separated and fingered each one. Unconcerned by my erection, she pulled at the foreskin until she was satisfied with the elasticity. I was to turn around and bend over, to let a finger rummage for my prostate. She tutted about the marks on the my rear, but declared me fit.

Then I was sent behind one of those ubiquitous curtains to do my business. A literal minute later, when I handed her the beaker, she told me to keep on wearing my "virtue guard" until the results were in; in a fortnight. Apparently, nurse Sutton had seen it all.

---

"Guests, how lovely," the young woman greeted as we entered. Petite, pretty and with an easy smile. I liked her immediately.

She had been busy at the pedestal. The silky white corset still throned, no longer over the black caged dildo, but a red cane. Her feminine hands budged it until she had it laying like a prediction beneath the corset.

"A celebration to feminity," she remarked to my wandering thoughts, picturing both women in it. Then she asked, "Would you like to try it on?" Paula had studied the corset intently, but shook her head.

"It is beautiful, but no thank you."

"What a pity, it would look excellent on you. Are you sure, you don't want to give it a try?"

"Thank you. But no, I'm not looking for a corset," Paula added with regret.

"Actually I'm looking for something for him." The young woman nodded at me, but stayed with Paula.

"What does a lady hope to find in our premises?" she asked in an easy manner, without the slightest hint of irony, so that Paula replied.

"A whip."

"A particular one?"

"I'd love to get one that is easy to use. Nothing too serious," Paula explained.

"I see. Not too serious, but no toy either, right?" Paula nodded delighted at the precise characterization. She let the young woman take her arm. The young woman winked at me to follow them.

"Plugs, strap-ons, nipple clamps, extenders, nut spreaders, sounders," she listed items like underground stops on our way into "Serious Delights".

We came to a red wall adorned with mean looking implements. The women took a moment to admire decorations of agony until the young woman turned to Paula.

"Tell, how do you like to spank him?" She leaned over the counter, as if expecting her to confide.

"How shall I put it? I love to see how he presents his butt when he's bent over. Tense and smooth and for me to play. And then, when he raises his hips, I just want to slap him." Paula took a deep breath.

"I don't want to harm him, you know, yet I do not want to hold back." What an intimate confession indeed, I thought.

"It's not for discipline then." Paula denied.

"I just like to spank him," she blushed, "Is that ok?"

"Of course it is. Your desires are unalienable," she reassured Paula who relaxed visibly.

"This means erotic zones only, like tush and tits. One has to be careful." Paula nodded appraisingly to the analysis. The young woman turned towards me and eyed me again to which I reddened a bit. Though it was not different from Paula when I was around in our flat.

"He's lean. Bad luck, subcutaneous fat dampens." She opened a drawer and heaved out a big, red book.

"I need to explain to you the effects whips have on a boy. Then, I'm sure, we'll find one you both can enjoy."

"Stock whip, no. Irish dressage, no. Sjambok, definitely not - ah here we go," she stopped flipping the pages.

Each page had two polaroids on display. The spanking implement in one, a bare, marked buttock in the other. The text on the opposite sheet extolled the implement's virtues. Paula reached out and turned a few pages. Lots of marked butts, I gathered.

"Where did you find them?" Paula asked, flipping more.

"The guys? I borrowed them," and to Paula's bemused look, she clarified off handedly, "They're lifestyle slaves. I asked their mistresses for them."

"Wow," Paula said, with a look like a kid in a candy store.

"That's a really big tome." The young woman looked on approvingly and offered an impish smile.

"You'd be surprised how many volunteered on a single ad." She turned back the pages Paula had shuffled.

"Now," she began.

A pink leather whip that ended in a tuft of fringes. The handle was adorned with Rhine-stones. It made it look a toy and the butt showed only a few marks.

"A light leather whip for role-play." Paula shrugged non-plussed.

A reddened arse with some broad welts came next.

"That's a Scottish tawse. It has a nice sound to it. Chamfered edges and a rounded tip, it is almost impossible to do real harm." No, I thought. Paula halted a moment before nodding for the page to be turned.

The next page revealed a rear sporting thin, yet prominent, purple coloured welts; some reaching high up his back. Marks like by a felt-tip pen on skin.

"What?" Paula exclaimed.

"An equestrian whip, like a crop. A very light instrument. You can literally give the beat with a finger."

"So neat," Paula the mathematician marvelled, intrigued by the symmetry.

"All straight and parallel. How is that even possible?"

"I had him kneel at my feet and I used it to direct him to, you know what." Paula raised her gaze from the polaroid in time to see her smiling ruefully.

"It got me carried away when I came close to," she admitted. Paula nodded eagerly, clearly picturing herself in the moment. She noticed me, noticing her and blushed guiltily.

A hefty leather whip had been used on a bound body; the muscles still taut. Bright red marks and dark purple welts criss-crossed a body still in pain. Some welts seemed to reach around. Blood had run down crossing welts and bruises and a spot that looked like a wound from a stubbed-out cigarette. It had soaked into the ropes.

"My," said Paula.

"A bull-whip, totally hardcore. It is a serious thing and only a strong man can bear it."

"Did you, was that you, whipping him?" Paula demanded. The young woman shook her head.

"No, no. Much too cruel for my liking," she said, then "I'm not into blood." She shaped a roundness with her hands.

"This whip wraps around the body with each stroke and the tip cuts into the flesh. It takes a lot of practise to use it safely," she said disapprovingly to the picture.

"I got this picture from a SM club." She turned the page to change the topic.

The next page revealed the first female derrière. Shapely, with a beautiful hue and the delightful lines of a rear presented willingly. What a gem.

"Lovely," said Paula after a moment.

"Thank you," replied the the young woman politely; maybe a little flattered. Wait a minute, I thought: "That is you!"

My eyes darted back and forth between the image of a supple fanny and her cheeky grin. Paula cleared her throat, chiding me.

"I wanted to try it out," the young woman stated as a matter of fact. My cock stirred.

"Cat o'nine tails. Rather common, but made of Nubuck leather with soft, broad tresses and rounded tips. Easy to handle and you can use it even on breasts." She pointed to a polaroid presenting perky breasts. As shapely as her derrière and adorned with stiff red nipples.

"The results are very gratifying. For you, as well as for him." She leaned forward on the counter.

"What's it going to be?" she quipped, "a ruler for naughty boys, the traditional tawse or rather Mrs. Nine?"

"I want fun."

"I say, the cat and the whip," the young woman offered.

"Why not the crop?"

"Very good ma'am! Why not? Take that too." They where obviously warming to each other.

"And how about the Barbie whip? The pink one?"

"Whipping is a serious affair. No fooling around, ma'am." The gaggle of geese kept on larking around about crops and canes. My mind was on the red book and the images I had seen. I didn't mind a playful spanking and if Paula was bent on it, even some pony play. She promised she would take care of her horsey, ok I'm game. But to be bound to a post, with tensed gluts and clenched teeth waiting for the blows, was not an ordeal I wanted to experience.

"Yes Ralph?" Mistress Paula asked sweetly. I must have made a face, because they stopped talking. Paula watched me, apparently sensing my inner rebellion. Her half-amused smile challenged me to burst out with my insubordination. Which I almost did, but I knew Paula. And her unwillingness to retreat, deviate or compromise when she was in a mood. I noticed that she had a determined poise now, just like I noticed the new spring in her step two weeks prior. It assured me, she'd use any means necessary to stop me from making a scene. Any means that lay spread out in front of us and made my mind wander again to that image in the red book. Had it been here? Here in the red limbo of Serious Delights? Did Paula wait for a pretext to use it on me right now? I swallowed whatever had welled up in me and focused hard on driving the picture out of my mind.

The young woman occupied herself with wrapping the whips in posh paper. Did she witness such clashes often? I had expected her to smirk, but at least she spared me that. She finished wrapping and handed the parcel over with an amicable smile.

Paula reached for the book and opened a page at random. Her index finger traced the welts on a polaroid before turning the page.

"Say, these mistresses. Why did they lend you their slaves?"

"You mean, why I just had to ask?" Paula nodded slowly.

"It is about pride, I believe. They're proud to have a beautiful slave. These ladies love showing off." Paula traced again a curve on a polaroid.

"I see, some are really very appealing."

"Yes, but how did they get them to be whipped? I mean, all of them did it voluntarily, didn't they?"

"This is about power. The mistress exerts power over the male and treats him a she sees fit. That is something some noble ladies are extremely proud of and willing to present. What better way to demonstrate power then by a slaves' willingness to take a caning?" The young woman gave Paula her business card.

"If you'd like to attend a certain event, call. You are welcome both." Paula took the card.

"Camden Book Club," she read out load and remarked: "That's very modest."

"Well, flogging is not everyone's cup of tea and some are very particular about appearing reputable," she said. They shook hands.

"I'm Sylvie."

---

Back home, Paula put the parcel with her new toys on the desk. I expected her to test one on me. Just like women do with shoes, when coming back from shopping. Instead, she wiggled out of the pencil skirt and bent gracefully over the desk.

I briefly wondered whether she'd like me to use our new toys on her, whilst I fiddled with the keys. Nah, the lady wanted a good shag. I literally jumped at her.

Paula moaned when my cock widened her. The visit to Serious Delights had had an effect on her and her pussy was soft and juicy. There was no mistaking the way her bubble butt answered to my thrust. I grabbed her hips and pushed with gusto. One delicious thrust and I was already close. I tried to stall, to keep my mind off silken pussy and slick joy. To hell with all chastity, my cock answered. I needed a good, solid...

It was the very moment Paula reached into the bag and gave me a hearty backhand swing with the riding crop.

The pain shot right into me. My knees buckled wrecking my erection. I yelled out in anger cry and held on. On Paulas hips and on thrusting. She took this as an encouragement to hit again.

It was insanely painful, but with a cock stiff and needy, I couldn't but thrust ever so more. My hands were glued to her hips, my cock drilling deeper as if hiding from the crop, but Paula's tennis skills got me with every thrust. She hit and hit, and I throbbed and thrusted.

"Cum," I begged. Paula laughed, a wild, unbridled laughter and hit faster.

"Yes, cum, cum. Cum Ralph!" I cried out, I grabbed her tighter, her buttocks clenched for joy, another flank ripper, another gash by crop until, finally, she drove her stallion over the finishing line of her climax.