Flames of Necessity Pt. 01

Emma groaned in ecstasy at having him show the pleasure of his defeat so ardently, confirmed by the vigorous and extensive exertions of his tongue, the wondrous sensations of its physical massaging, and the ego swelling confirmation of his total submission to her by those actions, taking her swiftly to a richly satisfying orgasm. Horace felt her anus clench at his tongue, and he looked up in joyously pitiful expectation of the punishment to come, as the mature woman moaned long and hard, her magnificent thighs tensing, her feet pointing in a ballet-like pose as she rode the sheer ecstasy of a dominant orgasm, her frantically rubbing fingers having her cunt pulse a spray of orgasmic fluid, wetting his face as he aided her pleasure with the obedient thrusting of his tongue.

She gasped and sighed in recovering, grinning down at Horace as he continued to nurse her anus, making her twitch slightly with the pleasurable sensation, as he looked up to her with wide eyes that cried out to be punished. She sneered at the depth of his weakness, knowing she had a budding masochistic in the making, his reaction to the spanking told her he was more than just submissive. She eased his head away, laughing at the dribbles of her juices running down his face.

"Oh, you're not crying already are you?... I'm going to give you something to cry about." She clasped her broad thighs together, and pointed to the discarded panties.

"Bring those here!" Horace duly obliged, and her wicked smile grew as she masked him with them, her spiteful pleasure evident in her care in having the thinner and spicier part of the gusset, tight over his nose, his eyes free either side where her broad thighs had graced them, and tied tightly behind his head. Horace sniffed again at the staler feminine perfumes, which were as equally exciting as the freshly offered scents of the cunt they'd been soiled by, and Emma saw his furtive glance at the cane. She would tease him exquisitely, even in punishment.

"Oh no Horace, you've to earn the cane... and earn it you will." She leaned to adjust the mirror, and sat at an angle on the bed, keeping her thighs together, her tall heels keeping her calves taut, back erect, in a picture of pure feminine authority. She had him look to the mirror again, to see himself kneeling, erect and duly presented for punishment. She sneered at their reflections.

"Look at yourself Horace, look at your pathetic eagerness to know pain... now get over my knees, you're going to be spanked, spanked to tears." Horace slipped over the smoothness of her warm thighs, his masked face looking in the mirror as the front half of his body lay on the bed, to see his bare arse poking high, inviting the spiteful attentions of his mature Mistress who smiled down at it with pursed lips. He gasped as she smilingly parted her thighs, and pushed his boning cock between them, clasping her warm thighs together on it.

"Know this Horace... you do NOT have my permission to come. If you disgrace yourself under my hand, then you'll know the cane... and believe me, the vigorous cut of it, after you've spent your mess, will take you down to a level that'll stay with you forever." Horace's mind was in a quandary as she rubbed his cheeks in preparation. He longed for that cane, but now had a little trepidation about it, her teasing conundrum purposely set out to unsettle him; she knew he couldn't fail to come when spanked, the act provoking his disobedience to her, and adding to her justified venom of its application, after he'd surrendered his balls by her hand. Emma saw this as a test of his growing masochism, one which he wouldn't fail to take.

His eyes stared fixedly at the mirror as her hand came down hard, making him gasp through the gusset, the sting of the firm impact resonating through his flesh as he was awarded the next, his cheeks bouncing under each telling slap, having him thrust his cock between the tight warmth of his punisher's thighs. The hypnotically sexual scent of the gusset and his view of the cane, propped at the stool, conspired deliciously to bring about his inevitable downfall; the erotic vista of the beckoning rod, an inanimate aperitif to the spiteful animation of the mature woman, her pleasured sneer as she applied each stinging slap, keeping those nipples rock hard as they poked from her shimmering breasts.

She sighed softly between each breath, the welcome tingle of fresh arousal now accompanying each potently applied slap of his flesh, her eyes going to his in the reflection and seeing the watery acknowledgement of her efforts as his thrusts at her thighs moved rhythmically. Her smile broadened with dominant pleasure, she knew he'd know the cane in earnest now, and that victorious smile crushed his will delectably in acknowledgement of her superiority.

His tears were more in anguish at the notion of disobedience to her, than at the stinging pain that now had his cheeks glowing with hand marks; that pain was awarding him a perverted enjoyment now, and his cock pulsed and slipped in lubrication between her thighs, doomed to cross her explicit command. She knew this, and knew the extra consternation it would cause him, making his inevitable orgasm exquisite, and her enjoyment at enforcing the flexible rod in severe fashion so sweetly justifiable. She saw him screw his eyes and snort through the gusset, his torso bucking on her lap... she had him, and she made sure his spend was like nothing he'd ever experienced before.

"The cane Horace... the cane!... I'm going to thrash you to total obedience of womanhood." Her words, the thought of that cane, and the divine scent of the cunt of the woman who'd thrash him, as he inhaled hard as though it were his last breath of freedom, took him to an ecstasy he could never have imagined. He moaned in truly exquisite surrender, surrendering to submission itself, as the cream bolted from his cock to jet between her controlling thighs, his eyes focused on her victorious and spiteful smile of pleasured contempt at his impudence, savouring his defeat as she continued to spank him... spank him to the cane which he'd know most thoroughly.

His mind went impertinently to those young women who'd brought him there, the seed pulsing from his cock in the torrid ecstasy of his lengthy spend, thinking of the lush humiliation on imagining them being there, witnessing the complete defeat of his masculinity at the hand of this magnificent woman. He pumped the seed up from his balls in a seemingly relentless torrent as her mature arm continued to exact the punishment they'd led him to, his servile thanks for the bite of that cane to come, expressed in the release of his semen which now harnessed him to the will of women forever.

As soon as his jerking exertions ceased, Emma's hand relented, and Horace was ordered down, commanded in an imperious tone to kneel against the bed and lay over it with his head facing the mirror. Horace panted through the gusset in the aftermath of his pleasure, his cock hanging limply against the bedsheets, emphasising his defeat. The butterflies he'd known on his first encounter with her, came back to haunt him as she stood and picked up the cane, those butterflies of fear, teased by his first view of the rear of her mature body; the delightful patina of experienced flesh, the luscious folds and curves to the buttocks and broad thighs that denote a woman of standing, her regal magnificence undeniable to the excited young man. The ripple of that flesh as she gripped the cane, had his limp cock stirring again immediately.

She turned and stood tall in the confident perfection of her dominance over him, her smug conceit at bringing a male down to just where she wanted him, invoking a delightful bitchiness in her which lifted Horace's spent cock to a semi-erection, despite the immediate expulsions of his balls. She flexed the cane with a lustful menace, delighted with her sweetly choreographed pageant as he cowered on his knees at her feigned displeasure.

"You came without my permission boy... masturbation, and disobedience!" He flinched and let out a whimper, as she cut the air with the cane, having him shrink away from the sound he'd be taught to relish. She posed with hand on hip, her cunt, already nicely aroused at imposing the authority of her hand on his flesh, now blossoming in carnal anticipation of seeing those poking cheeks succumb to the unforgiving rigidity of her cane.

"You'll be taken down now Horace, down to know the price of disobedience to womanhood... and it'll be my greatest pleasure in doing so." He quivered in a tumult of mixed emotions as he watched her lift the cane high, his anus tingled with fear, yet the reflection of himself kneeling in submission to her, willed that cane toward his flesh in masochistic expectancy. Down it came, the sweet song of its swift and brief journey seeming to last an eternity, the sharp crack of its impact, taking his breath away. Emma's sadistic streak, which had relied on fantasy for too long, emerged afresh with the pleasure of this physical treat. Her hunger for more, instantly enhanced by the sight of his cheeks splaying on impact, and the pitiful cry he offered as the creasing pain surged through his senses.

Horace bucked in momentary agony at the initial sting of the stroke which prompted his cry through the gusset, then whimpered at the reverberating pain which throbbed through his body, yet still unable to keep his eyes from his punisher, and seeing that she showed no indication of pity at his torment, just pure exhilaration. Emma's whole body rippled with sadistic vigour, as the second stroke was awarded with equal venom, Horace's tears flowing shamelessly as the lush sound of the cane's descent was followed by the curt shock of sharp pain, magnifying the agony of the first, which still throbbed through his flesh.

Emma's sadism peaked on seeing the clean red lines blush across his cheeks, and the flow of his tears in testament to them, then stepping to one side to lift the cane high, noted that his cock had risen to a full erection again. The confirmation of Horace's inner pleasure, sparked a frenzy of dominant passion within her, the visual signal of his dark pleasure at being dominated so severely, prompting her to add the third, fourth, and fifth stripes in quick succession. Horace blubbed like a child as the song of the cane continued, and he was soundly thrashed, but his cock pulsed with masochistic pleasure as he thrust erection at the edge of the mattress with each withering stroke.

Horace's mouth sucked at the gusset, now wet with his own tears, the fabric popping in and out of his gape as he wallowed in total defeat to the power of femininity, his quivering arse now almost welcoming each stroke. Satisfied in having reduced him to a whimpering mass of flesh, Emma relented with the cane, and mounted the bed, pulling the panties from his head, then pulling his tearful face into the heat of her perspiring cunt. He knew his place now, and lapped lovingly at at the juices of the arousal which stemmed wholly from his submission, then as she lay back, dutifully licked and probed the tangy anus of the woman who'd caned him; her second was supreme, and Horace's servile enjoyment as her anus gripped at his willing tongue on her moaning in ecstasy, told him he was enslaved by womanhood forever.

Emma sighed with satisfaction, then eased herself from the bed and retrieved the cane, standing close to the mirror with it.

"Come and kneel before me Horace." He did so, painfully; the flesh of his arse feeling as though it had shrunk over the muscles, the raised weals emanating a warmth and soreness which would remind him of his dark pleasure for some time. He knelt before her as she stood at an angle to the mirror, the cane and its reflection both visible as she toyed with it as it hung by her shapely mature legs.

"You'll masturbate for me now Horace... masturbate and confirm your pleasure at being brought to tears by the power of a woman." Her supreme smile of contentment glowed in haughty satisfaction on having him watch himself spend in gratitude at her feet, in honour of the pain she'd awarded him. Horace's eyes took in the gracefully mature contours of her feminine shape, holding the cane he'd been thrashed with, the pleasurable shame of seeing himself strop on his knees to her, immense and deeply gratifying. He'd already come twice that day, but Emma made sure he gave a worthy tribute on the third asking.

"You're being dominated my boy... dominated and going to be prepared for a life of total respect and servitude to femininity." She sneered with pompous satisfaction as he arched his back, jerking on his knees with his cock poking through his writhing wrist at the point of ectasy.

"...I'll have you beg for the cane on your next visit, because I know you'll crave the pain now... I'm going to break your spirit beyond repair." Horace groaned in the blissful euphoria of defeat, teased with the promise of further strict and spiteful tuition, he lapsed into a submissive ecstasy and watched himself shoot the essence of his surrender to her feet. He'd masturbated on three occasions in one day before, and though the volume of his ejection was understandably depleted, the physical pleasure of his orgasm was as intense as the the prior releases of his emotions, unlike any pitiful third abuse he'd managed before. Emma laughed softly in triumph as his offering spat forth to her feet, then pointed down to her shoes when he'd panted to recovery.

"Lick that up Horace... show my shoes the respect you have for your Mistress." He duly obliged, tasting his own salty emission for the first, but not the last time, eagerly lapping up the creamy but sparse globules which dribbled from her shoes.

Her mood changed instantly when he'd done; lifting him up and mothering him toward the basin at the end of her room, then softly dabbing his sore arse with a wet flannel, before gently applying a cold cream to his now purplish stripes. Her voice was soft and warm to his ears, yet just as controlling in its underlying natural dominance.

"You'll have tea with me now, before you go, and we'll hear of your thoughts on your accepting your true position in our first encounter." She slipped her gown back on, and helped him into his clothes; even her attentions to adjusting his shirt whilst wearing a warm smile, had him feel that she now owned him. She placed a soft cushion on a chair facing hers, across a small table, and smiled knowingly as he sat gingerly upon it, as they sipped tea and faced each other as though he'd simply visited for a chat. He thought he'd find it difficult, openly discussing his inner urges and sensations under her cane in so formal a situation, but found that her candid approach which illustrated that she - and all women - would command him in everyday circumstances, had him please her with his submissive honesty. Satisfied with his openness, she glanced at her clock.

"It's late, you'll go now. I'll let you know when you're next required to pay your respects... you'll not masturbate, you'll only do so in my presence. Goodnight Horace."

Horace was no stranger to Emma's room, her preparation for the life he'd later be led through by Prudence, enforced most rigidly. He was crushed beyond any of the punitive methods she'd treated him to, and she elated beyond any of those applications, on her pleasure at telling him that she was leaving her employment at the Hall for a new life in Canada, a younger male than he, betrothed to her to know her strict attentions.

...Prudence jerked his leash hard, on hearing Horace relate this disclosure, revealing an intimate relationship that she, nor anyone else, had been partial to, bemused yet quietly amused at now knowing how he'd been so easily dominated from day one of their marriage. She'd take great pleasure in seeing him punished though.

"How dare you not confess this to me at any point!... explain yourself." Anthea gave him a cursory stroke with her cane, already excited at hearing of his delightfully erotic tuition, and Thelma's cunt swelled on Prudence's relaxation of the leash, having him cower low under Anthea's stroke, and taking an opportunist sniff at the buxom woman's sex as he ducked between her huge thighs. She held his head there and sneered as his nose poked at the warm wetness of her saturated crotch.

"Yes Horace, explain yourself. Married partners should never keep secrets from each other... be it about past events... or those to come." Horace sniffed hard at the magnificent mound of Thelma's cunt, his pulsing cock tantalised by the barbs as strangely ironic laughter rang out from all three women at Thelma's remark; all three fully aware of the fate he remained unaware of, disposal to a woman who'd make the mature Emma seem like a guardian angel. He blurted his muffled reply out, between copious inhalations of the spice of the woman who'd witnessed the spanking which had been instrumental in his fate.

"She... she held me to secrecy... from anyone, while she was Housekeeper and I was being used by her." He paused for a moment and sniffed hard at Thelma's cunt, now hoping more than ever to be caned by the big woman, and received another cursory stroke from Anthea. She smiled as he bucked and stuttered out more.

"...it...it just sort of stuck with me after she went... couldn't give me permission to tell... and I'd almost forgotten her, as it was several years before you took me, Mistress Prudence... Mistress Thelma bringing it back to me." Prudence took a draw on the cigarette she'd lit, her contempt for him, and the delicious thought of entertaining a new pet later, in preparation for his disposal, had her nicely aroused as she nonchalantly exhaled a plume of smoke in sultry mood.

"You kept it from me Horace... that is unforgivable, and as your arse has already been warmed this morning, I think it most appropriate that you're caned again..." She leaned across and took the cane from Anthea, flicking the ash from her cigarette on his bare cheeks, then pulled him back on the leash and smiled at Thelma.

"...I also think it appropriate that Mistress Thelma shows you the cane... you proved that you failed your Mistress Emma by not adhering to her teaching of you in the total respect of all women... we know you've been pompous with her in the past, due to your snobbish recognition of social standings." She jerked him back on his knees, Thelma rising from the chair with a delighted grin, and having him admire her formidable curves as she stood over him.

"...we also have her to thank for your confession, and I know that as much as she enjoyed seeing you spanked to tears all those years ago, her only regret is that it wasn't by her hand... she'll make that up to you now, with twelve strokes as a nice going away present before your trip." His anus tingled more wildly than ever, gripping at the stiff anal plug with masochistic anticipation, as Thelma slipped off her tweed jacket to reveal muscular but womanly arms, her huge breasts bulging from behind her white silk blouse, while he was gagged again and the hood rolled down and tied, Anthea's pleasure in the task adding to her sexual arousal.

"There! We'll not hear your whinging as you receive punishment, and whinge you will... Thelma's a very physical woman, and caning males to tears is a favoured hobby of hers." Prudence tugged him to a couch and had him lay over an arm, making him extend him arms and sitting on his hands to prevent him moving. He whimpered through the gag as he saw Thelma express her buxom curves in a glorious panorama as she flexed and swivelled with the cane. Her satisfaction was rich indeed as she thrashed him, her vindication sweet as he was quickly reduced to tears, her vigour with the cane exacted wonderfully by her powerful arms, in the light of this being her only chance to pay him the respect he'd earned.