Femdom: 1905 (Post Orgasm Torment)

This story contains scenes of bondage and female domination, particularly post-orgasm torture (POT). It is entirely fictional and completely my own work.

Please DO NOT read any further if you do not enjoy fictional stories in which males submit to dominant females, either willingly, forcibly, or by coercion - If that's not your bag, none of my stories are for you.

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Femdom: 1905 (Post Orgasm Torment)

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Late though he was, Jackson had the hackney carriage drop him off on Argyle Street. This was still a respectable part of town and would not raise the eyebrows of the driver, but from there it was a mere skip down the steep granite steps to Chester Street on the edge of the Fairfield district, where gentlemen did not normally go alone.

Not far from the foot of the steps, he found the red double-doors of an under dwelling tucked underneath the shops of Argyle Street, and ratcheted a series of knocks upon them with the head of his stick. A hatch opened immediately, two young, female eyes scrutinised him for a moment, then one of the red doors opened, and Jackson quickly side-stepped inside.

In contrast to the bright Spring sky outside, the room within was dim, and he maneuvered himself almost by muscle-memory to present himself at the reception desk where a lady awaited him.

"Good Morning Madam," he began, "I'm..."

"Jackson Barnes," the lady interrupted.

He opened his mouth to protest at her impertinence, then remembered his place.

"Yes Madam," he said, humbly.

As his eyes became accustomed to the dark, he studied the lady before him. She was young, perhaps only just in her twenties, dressed in a black lace cotton dress over... he assumed... a strict corset that drew in her waist and pushed up her bosom - a feature sadly wasted beneath the frills of lace across her upper chest. She was so similar in looks and dress to the girl who controlled the door that he supposed them to be sisters - the daughters of the proprietor perhaps, though it was not appropriate to ask, so his musings remained in his head.

"You will be in room 6 as usual today Mr Barnes," she said, "Please go through."

He nodded kindly and tipped the brim of his top hat just as a knock came on the double doors. The girls looked at him sharply to hurry him away before the next visitor was let in. 'Just in time!' he thought to himself. Had he been one minute later, or the man outside one minute earlier, they might have had an embarrassing coincidence at the front door.

He hurried away along a corridor with half-panelled walls and red and white striped wallpaper that he thought very stylish, entered room 6, and closed and bolted the door. Alone in the small room, he wasted no time in removing his clothes and hanging them on the hangers provided, or folding them neatly to sit on a shelf. Finally he stood utterly naked, stripped of everything that identified him as being a gentleman of the upper class other than his gold pocket watch which he held with its chain gathered in his clammy hand. Now he looked, he thought, like he could be any man from any part of England, even a man resident of the Fairfield quarter itself... though far less grubby of course.

He took a moment to compose himself, then knocked loudly on another door on the opposite side of the small room. Almost Immediately, it swung open into a cosy boudoir, opulently furnished with objects in a deep red and purple palette, and thick with the scent of bergamot and mandarin. Two smiling ladies stepped forward to take him firmly by his upper arms, and escorted him into their lair. His genitals hung free as he walked between these two clothed beauties.

"How lovely to see you again, Mr. Barnes," the first lady said, her affectatious, plummey pronunciation scarcely disguising the loose vowels of her lower class accent. She was the elder of the two but could still barely have been in her twenties. She had dark brown hair in a classic pompadour, and seductive hazel eyes that Jackson found deeply alluring, but it was her confidence that he liked the most. She had been friendly but domineering with him right from the first time they met, and seemed to understand his desires implicitly. A working class girl of such tender years had no right to tell him what to do, yet she assumed ascendancy over him without a second thought, and left him in no doubt that here, in her bower, he was to be considered her inferior.

"Good afternoon Madam Eleanor," he responded cordially, then to the other young lady, "Good afternoon Madam Bessie."

When they reached a chair-like contraption in the centre of the room, Madam Eleanor told him to turn around and sit, and her bossiness caused him to start swelling.

The chair was made of a plain hardwood with green leather pads here and there, attached to the device by proud brass tacks. One such pad formed the short cushion upon which he sat. His spread thighs rested on two padded protuberances, his back against a narrow vertical backrest. He placed his arms on the padded arms of the chair, which splayed from the contraption at the same angle as his thighs.

The girls hitched their simple white cotton dresses up and sat upon him, each on one of his knees and facing him. Jackson was thrilled by a fleeting glance of Bessie's gartered black stocking top, and the soft, pallor thigh above it.

They took his wrists and deftly bound them securely to the chair with tan leather straps and brass buckles, padded with broad cotton straps, then they pulled more straps from behind the backrest and around his chest so that he had very little movement in his upper body.

"Nice and tight remember," Eleanor instructed Bessie, "this one's a right fidgetter aren't you?" she said, addressing Jackson and tapping him playfully on the nose.

They each worked with smiles on their faces as though happy in their work or, perhaps, because they were excited about what they were about to do to the man. Jackson admired their bright faces as they secured him; they were so clean and had such good teeth... nothing like the older and cheaper prostitutes he had encountered on past expeditions. He imagined that either of them might burst out into an idle hum or soft song as they worked.

Next, the ladies knelt before him and secured his knees, ankles and upper thighs to the chair, then they stepped back to admire their work.

"Well look at you, Mr Barnes!" Madam Eleanor said with a wry smile and a nod towards his stiff penis, "All excited already! We'll soon put paid to that!

"Are you secure enough?"

He strained against his bonds, though he knew full well that he was held tight. "Yes Madam Eleanor," he answered. It thrilled him every time to call these girls 'Madam' - a title reserved for ladies of seniority.

"Good man," she smiled, "Shall we begin?"

Madame Bessie knelt before him and pulled a soft cushion from below his chair, sliding it under her knees. Then she raised her gaze and looked him in the eyes.

She was younger than Madam Eleanor, a petite, freckled girl with her strawberry blonde hair in a stylish low, curly chignon. Her soft face had an impudent look about it, as though she had no care for the authority of his class or age or gender. It excited him greatly to feel that she was going to enjoy what she was just about to do to him.

Without taking her cocky eyes from his, she brushed the straps of her dress from her shoulders and let it fall down to her waist, revealing the flawless, sun-starved skin of her torso, and two small breasts with pink nipples and pale areola. She scooped them forward as though her hands were a supportive brassiere, and presented them for him to gawp at.

The thrill of seeing naked breasts brought a new stiffness to his cock. He had seen drawings of many in the French magazines he had dared to procure, and fleetingly in one or two of the bawdy shows he'd seen, but never had he had the chance to admire a pair in detail before he first met Madam Bessie.

When he finally looked back at her face however, he found that her smug expression was more arousing even than her lovely breasts.

"Let's get the disgusting bit over and done with first shall we?" Madam Eleanor said. She was close beside him now, bent at the waist with her lips close to his ear, her cleavage on display in his peripheral vision.

He nodded, his mouth too dry to attempt any words, and Madam Bessie dipped her head down to place a gentle kiss on one of his dangling testicles. He exhaled sharply as the sensation sent shock waves bouncing about his body, and Madam Bessie blinked slowly, brashly returning her gaze to his as she began to suck gently on that sensitive little globe.

He was bowled-over by the sensation and excitement of having this young woman's hot mouth on his sensitive genitals. And her with such confidence too!... brazenly doing things that she ought to be ashamed of. He imagined that none of his gentlemen friends at the club would ever have experienced such depraved and wonderful pleasure as this, and certainly not with a beauty such as Madam Bessie.

Bessie's lips pecked their way up his solid shaft and came to rest on the underside of his bulging spearhead. As they rested there momentarily he promised himself, not for the first time, that one day he would pay for that smiling mouth to engulf his head and swallow him.

Then, frustratingly, she moved her face away from his straining sex and held him gently with one hand while she fetched a bottle of Milk of Roses from beneath his chair. She generously lathered both hands with the scented lotion, took hold of him, and stroked his erection just once with her slippery hands before holding him in a light but motionless grip.

Madam Eleanor plucked the gold watch from his hand and clicked it open to reveal the creamy face and slender hands, pointing to 12 roman numerals. She could not read them, but she knew how they corresponded to the Arabic numbers on less fancy timepieces.

"Let's see," she said in a contemplative tone, "three minutes mandatory and six minutes after?"

"Six minutes!" he baulked, "I've never managed..."

"Mr Barnes!" she interrupted, "A girl's got to earn a living!"

He thought hard for a moment, then steeled himself. "Yes Madam Eleanor, six minutes would be perfect... but three minutes mandatory?"

She brought her lips to his ear, and whispered, artfully, "A girl's got to have her fun too."

He steeled himself again. "Yes Madam Eleanor," he said, resolutely.

She backed away from him and stood beside her kneeling friend, then rummaged around beneath her skirt and fetched down her layered cotton drawers. They were rudely small, less than a foot top to bottom, and couldn't possibly have reached her knees. She stepped out of them, bent down, and fetched from within them a small slip of material tailored to fit snugly around her naked crotch. She held it up for him to see.

"I've been wearing this since I bathed last night, Mr. Barnes," she said with a naughty smile, "snug up against my cunny all night."

He looked excitedly at the triangle of white material before him, and could see that it still bulged where it had been stretched around her mound.

"Thank you Madam Eleanor," he said, before voluntarily opening his mouth wide.

Eleanor stepped close to him and fed the warm material into his mouth. Instantly, he could taste and smell her sex and sweat. He thought, though he possibly just imagined, that the cotton was damp even before it entered his waiting mouth.

She finished the insertion of her little gift with a finger prodding the material into his mouth, then tapped his jaw shut with four fingers beneath his chin.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

Jackson took a moment to savour his predicament... He was naked, bound by two beautiful, lower class girls 15 years his junior, to a contraption designed only for perverse interactions. Filling his mouth was a fragrant slip of material that two minutes since had been moulded around the naked sex of the girl who was to be the conductor of his torture, and whose cunny was now naked beneath her dress. On her knees before him was the second girl, her breasts brazenly on display, her hand slicked but motionless around his solid shaft, poised to take him to the hell he so craved.

He nodded.

Madam Eleanor re-assumed her position beside him, bent forward so that her sweet mouth was close to his ear.

"Lets get this nasty business over with then" she purred into his ear, "then we can get down to some real fun. Madam Bessie will have you spilt in no time."

She nodded to Madam Bessie, who began to gently stroke Jackson's slick cock.

He looked at the young lady on her knees before him as she masterfully caressed his big cock. Despite her colleague's words, she took her time, concentrating her stroking action on his less sensitive shaft, and only occasionally allowing an upward stroke to slip across his glans and into a light cupping of his tip. He moaned every time she did this.

"Relax Mr Barnes," Madam Eleanor sang into his ear, "This nasty business will soon be over, and then Madam Bessie can have her fun."

Yet still Bessie did not appear to be in any rush. She watched him intently as she massaged him, as though she could read the precise height of his arousal from the lines on his face. And so, despite Madam Eleanor's continued assurances that he would soon be emptied, he remained in an intense state of arousal and anticipation, crudely thrusting into Madam Bessie's hand by as much as his bonds would allow him.

Long minutes passed, and still the soft caressing of his cock lost none of its lustre, nor did the visual stimulation he received from the semi-naked harlot, who smiled at him sweetly whilst holding him cruelly short of his climax.

Finally, Bessie let go of his straining cock for a moment, Madam Eleanor passed her a short, black cord, and he knew that the end was in sight.

Madam Bessie quickly wrapped the cord around the root of his cock and balls, and tied it in an extremely tight bow.

"We don't want you losing any of your vigour after you've spewed your disgusting mess do we!" Madam Eleanor said, just as Madam Bessie began to rapidly stroke his throbbing erection from root to tip.

He rose to his climax quickly, desperately savouring the view of Bessie's jiggling tits and insolent expression as she imperiously bullied him towards the crest of his passion, leaving him in no doubt that she was going to make him spill his seed whether he liked it or not.

In less than a minute under Madam Bessie's masterful attention, it was all too much for him to take, and he grunted loudly through his cotton-packed mouth while his boiling semen gushed into the air and landed about them in all directions. His orgasm wracked his body and he convulsed against his bonds.

But Madam Bessie did not stop. She continued to stroke his cock from root to tip, and soon had poor Jackson producing sharp moans every time her palm traversed his sensitive ridge.

Madam Eleanor held the open watch in front of Jackson's face.

"Three minutes mandatory," she sang, with evident glee.

Jackson clenched his eyes closed as Madam Bessie continued to stroke his over-sensitive glans and the last of his juice wept from his tip. The seconds past slowly, and Bessie began to torture his delicate penis in new ways, wringing his bell end between her fists, or stretching his foreskin back and holding his spearhead like a hawk holds its prey. His eyes remained closed and he listened to Bessie, who was normally so demure about her business, laugh with glee as he spasmed and convulsed and made his sharp, muffled yelps as she tortured him. He opened his eyes to see the bright and giddy look on her face and she caught him watching. Her expression changed immediately to that of mock challenge, her head tilted back slightly so that she looked down her nose at him, her lips apart, her eyebrows raised. She gave him a particularly sharp swipe across his glans which caused him to buck violently, and could not help but burst put into laughter again. The tight black cord prevented his cock from losing any of its stiffness.

This was the moment he loved the most - the precious few minutes when Bessie would not stop torturing him for any reason, the 'mandatory' time during which he was not allowed to stop her and he was helplessly at her mercy... and knowing full well that she would show none by curtailing her fun. Now was the time that her insolent superiority aroused him the most; when she had the fleshy symbol of his manhood in her hand, and tortured it with such contempt as to prove herself superior, when the song of her reflexive laughter proved how much she enjoyed being mean to him. He sucked his saliva from the cotton in his mouth and drank the taste of his magnificent Madam Eleanor, who stood, watching the spectacle and cooing excitedly.

Finally, with both joy and despair, he heard Madam Eleanor declare that his three minutes was over. He jerked his eyes opened to see her fingers approaching his mouth, and immediately opened his jaw to give her access. She pulled the sodden material from his hole and he immediately began to beg.

"Please Madam Bessie, please stop!"

Madam Bessie was amused but unwavering. He yelped out loud as she wrung his bell-end hard in her fists... as he knew she would. He knew full well that if he begged she would punish him, but if he didn't, she might never stop. The intense stimulation was already just about as much as he could bear.

"Tell me you like it!" she ordered in a tone that demanded compliance. These were the first words that she had uttered thus far.

"I can't!" he gasped.

She raised an eyebrow and jerked him firmly, stretching his cock from his body, then compressing it back into his groin.

He closed his eyes again as the painful over-stimulation continued, then shook his head violently from side to side.

"Tell me you like it!" she demanded again.

He knew what would happen when he gave in, so he resisted a little longer, but soon he felt Madam Eleanor's breath on his ear. "Give her what she wants," she advised, before kissing his ear with a wet mouth.

He looked pleadingly into Bessie's eyes, but found himself buckling under the command of the two girls.

"I like it!" he cried out.

Bessie beamed. "I know you do my darling!" she laughed, and began to pump his cock even more frantically. He cried out, and began to beg for her to stop again.

Undeterred, Madam Bessie continued her sadistic assault on his poor cock. His body tensed rigid, and, completely unexpectedly, he came again, splashing watery jism over Bessie's hand and face. The cruel and ruthless battering of his glans throughout his wretched second orgasm was a fresh new torture, and caused him to sob pitifully.

Bessie giggled with excitement and continued her assault.

"Please stop! Please stop! Please stop!" He begged, but still Madam Bessie punished his pained cock.

"Four and a half minutes," Madam Eleanor sang softly into his ear.

He jerked hard against his restraints and grunted over and over again. Still Madam Bessie assaulted his cock.

"You'll soon be broken!" Madam Eleanor said, and he knew that this was true. He sincerely wished that this experience would never end, but at the same time he needed the agony to stop. He knew that he could not stand the intense stimulation for very much longer."

"Please stop!" he cried weakly, but still Madam Bessie wrung out his cock.

"Give up, Mr Barnes," Eleanor demanded, "Bend to our superiority!"

He clenched his hands tight and curled his toes as Bessie joyfully ground his bell end in her slick but firm fist. His agonised groans had become high pitched squeals. Then Bessie somehow found a spot that seemed more sensitive, and laughed as he screamed each time she pressured it.