Images

"You're certain," I said. "No nude, just hang there with my clothes on. That's all."

"Yes, that's what I said," she reaffirmed. "It won't take more than twenty minutes."

"Okay, let's go," I said. "I can do that. By the way you haven't paid me for todays session yet. Now you're going to owe me $150.00. When do I get paid?"

"I'll pay you tonight...before you leave...I promise. Is that good enough?"

As we walked downstairs my body was trembling in nervous anticipation. I knew I was about to do something against my better judgement. There were men who were going to buy pictures of me...for what? So they could look at them and masturbate? It was obscene. It was also a little exciting.

Carol quickly set up her camera and lights, I pulled down the rope. When she was ready, she hooked the rope to by wrist and pulled my arm's in the air. She pulled me a little higher this time...my high heels barely touching the floor.

She snapped a few pictures as I tried to simulate a girl in distress. For some reason I couldn't stop giggling.

"I'm not paying for giggles,' Carol barked. "This is what I'm paying for." She picked up the whip and thrashed me across my butt.

I was stunned...and hurt. "Oh, god Carol, don't do that again. Please, it hurts too much. Just keep your damn money and let me down from here. I can't do it the way you want."

She ignored my pleas, lashing me three more times. The pain was excruciating. I screamed for her to stop.

"OHHH GODDD, PLEASEEEE, DON'T HIT ME ANY MORE. NOOOOOOO...I'LL DO WHAT YOU WANT...ANYTHING...JUST DON'T HURT ME ANY MORE."

Tears were streaming down my cheeks, my buttocks were on fire.

"AHGGGGGGGGGGGGG," I shrieked when she thrashed me twice more.

She hurried back to her camera, snapping pictures of my misery. I was crying uncontrollably. The harder I cried the more pictures she snapped..

She approached me again. I began to whimper like a little girl. "Please, Carol...please don't hit me any more. I'll do what you want...please, no more."

She un-snapped the waist band of my skirt, allowing it to fall to the floor. I was standing there in my panties and nylons. I could see a light on one of the video camera pointed at us...it was running!

"Oh god baby...I've been looking forward to this," she hissed. "I knew you were one sexy cunt the first time I laid eyes on you. And your mound...jesus christ girl, you have a mound to die for! You're worth every penny I'm going to make off of you."

I was absolutely appalled. "What are you doing?" I sobbed. "I'm not consenting to this. Please, I'm begging you...let me down from here."

I couldn't stop crying. Ignored my pleas, she touched me...stroking me between my legs, I tried kicking her...anything to get her away from me. I freaked out, thrashing at her with my feet, screaming at the top of my lungs. Within seconds I was spent, barely enough strength to stand on my toes, the rope burning my wrist from the strain.

I stood there, shamefully, while she fondled me. She nuzzled her face up to my neck and began licking me, moaning obscenely as she stroked my crotch.

To add to my humiliation, my body began responding to her caresses. I tried to resist but it was useless. She was very skillful...and the shame I felt was undescribable, especially when my hips lewdly picked up the rhythm of her stroke.

She knelt in front of me, her warm breath caressing my thighs. Pulling my panties aside, she embarrassed me further by discovering my pussy was sopping wet. Her tongue touched my slit. I gasped for breath, spreading my legs shamelessly for her invading tongue.

"Oh god," I moaned as she lapped my creaming cunt. "Please, don't do this to me...let me go..."

"I know you like it you slutty bitch," she murmured breathlessly. You like your cunt being eaten don't you?"

"Oh god, Carol...please don't do this to me. Pleasee...oh shit...yessss...I like it...please, please stop....oh no...don't....YESSSS, GODDAMN YESSSSS," I screamed out. LICK MEEEEEEEEEE, PLEASEEEEEE."

My body shuddered as she assaulted my pulsating clit. I was going to have an orgasm...an orgasm from a woman's tongue. How could this happen to me?

I stopped begging her to stop. I was going to cum...pleasure so exquisite I couldn't deny it.

My hips humped her face lewdly, the pleasure so explosive, so depraved, my body went limp, the ropes holding me up.

Arising, her face and lips dripping with my sticky juices, she pulled my lips to hers as if to kiss me. I insanely licked her lips, sucking globs of my own juices into my mouth. It was so twisted, so sick...

The heated moment finally passed. She pulled away, releasing the rope from my wrist. I fell to the floor.

"Come up stairs when your ready," she said as she walked away.

Turning off the camera, she lifted it from its tripod and took it with her.

I lay on the floor...the reality of what had transpired gnawing at my senses...that I had been raped by a woman, humiliated to my very core. And as I lay there in total abject shame, I debased myself even further. I touched myself...and within seconds another orgasm washed over me.

I finally put on my skirt and walked upstairs. My panties were soaked...I reeked with the smell of sex.

She was sitting at her kitchen table sipping a glass of wine. I didn't speak, walking past her...straight out the door. I didn't want her money...I didn't want to ever see her again.

At home, I curled up on the couch and wept uncontrollably.
====================

I was awakened by a knock at the door. In my muddled mind I tried to recall why I was sleeping on the sofa. The previous night of events came rushing back to me. Was it a bad dream? The odor of sex told me otherwise.

As I arose to answer the door, I could feel my panties sticking to me, a stark reminder of my humiliation at the hands of of my demented neighbor.

It was Carol at the door. "I tried your back door but didn't get an answer," she said.

She didn't wait for an invitation, slipping past me into the house. "Here, I have the money I owe you...$150.00...and an additional $200.00 for the juicy video. Not bad, huh. $350.00 for less than an hours work. See, I told you there was money in that body of yours."

I shuddered at the thought. "Listen Carol, would you excuse me...I'm not feeling well."

"I'm sorry honey, what's the problem? Didn't you sleep well last night?"

My silence was her cue. She moved towards the door. "Listen baby, I'm having another photo session this afternoon. You're welcome to join us. Paula will be there. You could make another couple hundred dollars."

"You raped me last night," I said incredulously. "You tied me up and raped me. And you have the nerve to...."

"Whoa," she said with mock surprise. "Where is this coming from? That isn't how I remember it. And you had better be careful about accusing someone of rape. I have a video of what happened. Would you like to see it?"

I didn't want to see it. I knew what it would reveal. Certainly not the truth...only my shameful weakness.

I looked at the $350.00 on the coffee table. I felt like a whore.

I ran to the bathroom and buried my head in the commode. This was, undoubtedly, the lowest point in my life.
======================

Two days later, after much soul searching, I called a realtor acquaintance and placed my home for sale. My hopes of a peaceful surburban life were over.

With great reluctance, I moved back in with my mother. She welcomed me with open arms...her "I told you so" was evident without ever uttering the words.

It didn't take long to find another job. In fact, it was a better paying job than I had before. And my house sold quickly. It was a sad day for me. It was my first house, my first real independence...and I missed it.

==========================

My new life was uneventful and boring. I couldn't seem to get on track. I enjoyed my new job but my social life was non existent. Nothing seem to interest me. Even dating couldn't break me out of the doldrums...

One day, while walking to a coffee shop for lunch, I glanced at one of those newspaper racks selling underground papers. There, on the front page, a picture of a woman whipping another female. I have no idea what possessed me...I dropped fifty cents in the rack, quickly grabbing the paper and cramming into my purse. I glanced around to see if anyone was watching...the tinge of guilt made me feel alive.

That evening, alone in my room, I retrieved the paper from my purse. I stared at the picture for a long time. My body quivered with arousal. Turning the page, and ad on page three caught my attention.

NEED DISCIPLINE...CALL ME MARGO...555-4569

I read and re-read those five words over and over. Something was stirring inside me. I welcomed the feeling of excitement.

I fingered myself for the first time in months. My orgasm was explosive...the image from the newspaper an aphrodisiac to my twisted mind.
====================

With a spirit I hadn't felt for ages, I made plans for the weekend. Lying to my mother about going to Atlantic City with a friend from work, I made reservations at a hotel in the city.

Saturday, I spent the day window shopping...trying to work up the nerve to call the number from the paper. Around four in the afternoon, back in my hotel room, I dialed the number.

I hesitated when a woman answered on the first ring. "Yes, can I help you?" the voice asked.

"Uh...uh, may I speak to Margo?" I asked timidly.

"This is Margo speaking. Can I help you?"

"Yes...I...uh...I wanted to find out what you charge for your services. I read your ad in the paper."

"You feel like you need to be disciplined" she asked in a firm voice. "And do you wish to see me next week, tomorrow...or today?"

"Today...uh...I mean tonight," I whispered. "I'm in the city for the weekend. I thought I might want to meet with you if it's not too expensive."

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Gretchen," I said.

"Are you a slut, Gretchen?"

"Nooo...I'm nothing like that, I answered, feeling offended. "I'm sorry, maybe...maybe I've made a mistake."

"Five hundred dollars," she blurted out. "Six hundred and fifty if I have to come to you. By the way, what hotel are you staying at?"

"At the Biltmore," I said, immediately sorry I revealed my location to her.

"Well, what will it be Gretchen? Your place or mine?"

"I think I'll pass," I quickly answered. "I didn't realize it would be so expensive. I'm sorry I took up your time." I quickly hung up the phone.

I felt foolish. I could have called and inquired about her price from home. I could have saved myself a trip into the city. I could have been lonely at home.

Making the most of a bad decision, I dressed for dinner. The hotel dining room was elegant, conveying a sense of sophistication and order...something I hadn't felt for a long time. I rationalized quickly, maybe my weekend in the city wasn't a such a waste of time after all.

After being seated, i glanced around the room. I was the only one eating alone...and I didn't mind.

After a pleasant dinner, I sauntered across the lobby to the hotel bar. There were only eight or nine people in the bar...apparently not a hot spot on Saturday night. I moved to a stool at the end of the bar where I could observe everyone.

I was just about to order a second drink when a woman approached: "Is this seat taken," she asked?"

"No...no it's not," I said, glancing her way.

She was absolutely beautiful...dressed in a gray business suit...like a business executive trapped in the city for the weekend.

She ordered a drink. "I'm Margo," she said very forthright..."I think we spoke on the phone earlier this afternoon."

I didn't know how to respond. Did she misunderstand me on the phone? It was an awkward moment to say the least.

"No, I didn't misunderstand you on the phone," she said as if reading my mind. "But I had a free night and thought I'd come downtown and check out the confused young girl from the suburbs. You are from the suburbs, aren't you?"

"Yes, yes I am," I mumbled. "But how, how did you find me."

"It wasn't all that difficult," she said as matter of fact. "I knew your first name and what hotel you were staying at...money did the rest. You know, a few bucks to the doorman...the desk clerk..."

"What do you want?" I asked. "I already told you I couldn't afford...."

"Oh, don't worry about that," she said. "I'm not looking for money from you. Just curious, I guess. You don't mind, do you? I mean," as she glanced around the room, "it doesn't look like there's an exciting night in store for you. I thought we could have a few drinks...you know, maybe get acquainted. If I'm making you uncomfortable, I'll have my drink and leave. Do you want me to leave?"

"No, I guess not. I'm still amazed you went to such lengths to find me."

"It was nothing, really," she said. "Believe me. I'm certainly glad I did. You're nothing like my usual clients. They tend to be several years older than you. What are you, twenty three, twenty four?"

"Yes, around that," I lied. "What do you do with your....you know, your...uh...clients?"

"What ever they want. They're all unique. Well, that's not exactly true. They do have one thing in common...they're all rich, or at least well off. Money isn't a problem for them."

"That's really weird," I said incredulously.never would have thought rich people would..."

"Rich people" she mused, "can afford their fetishes, their dark side. But enough about my clients. What about you? Why did you call me? Do you have any idea what I do.?"

"No, not really. You know, I'm really uncomfortable talking about this. I don't know why I called you. I'm not a freak or anything. In fact, I'm about as normal as anyone can be. I guess the mystery of your ad intrigued me."

She ordered both of us another drink. "Are you a lesbian, Gretchen? Have you ever had sex with a woman?"

"No way," I said defiantly. "I'm straight. I've been married. I'm divorced now, but I've always been straight. Why would you ask me a question like that?"

"Doesn't it stand to reason?" she said, taking another sip of her drink. "I mean, after all, you called a woman to discipline you."

I couldn't argue with her logic. I guess it would appear that way. But if I were a lesbian, I think I would know it. Maybe Carol thought I was a lesbian...maybe that's why she raped me.

"So, what do you do Gretchen? I mean what kind of work do you do? You do work, don't you?"

"Yes, I work. I work for a financial institution. I'm not a bigwig or anything...just one of the lowly workers."

"That's interesting. Do you like your job? Is your supervisor a man or a woman?"

"Yes, I like my job...I mean it's okay. My boss is a man. Why...why would you ask that?"

"Just curious," she said. "Listen, do you have a wet bar in your room?"

"Yes, I think so," I said with some uncertainty. "There's a tray with those little liquor bottles...you know, like the ones they have on planes."

"Why don't we have a drink in your room where we can be comfortable. Wouldn't you like that...being more comfortable?"

"Uh...I guess. Sure, we can do that. Why not. By the way, this isn't something you're going to charge me for is it?"

She laughed. "No, I'm not going to charge you. I told you, I came here strictly out of curiosity. And I've found I like you...that's all."

When she slid off of her stool, I was immediately intimidated. She was at least a full head taller than me. Entering the elevator, I felt small and insignificant standing next to her.

The closer we came to my floor, the more uneasy I became. I didn't know what to expect. Were we just going to have a friendly drink or was she planning on doing something to me?

Entering the room, I turned to ask what she would like to drink. She moved up close to me, her hands fondling my breast through my blouse. I stood there, unable to move. I was embarrassed...not wearing a bra, I knew she could feel my nipples growing hard. She pinched them between her fingers, twisting them till the pain was excruciating. I wanted to pull away from her...I didn't. I stood there till the pain brought tears to my eyes.

"Why are you hurting me?" I blubbered.

"To let you know who's in charge in this room," she said. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," I whispered. "But you didn't have to...."

She pinched them again.

"Please," I whispered. "I'm sorry...if I offended you, I'm sorry."

She walked across the room and sat down in one of the two tufted chairs. I stood there confused...not knowing what was expected of me. My emotions were conflicted...I was scared...and excited. I didn't know why. What was wrong with me!

She removed her suit jacket...her blouse so sheer I could clearly see her breast, large and full, and her dark areola's were absolutely the largest I'd ever seen.

"Hang this up," she ordered. I quickly retrieved the jacket and hung it on a hanger.

"Do you like my breast?" she asked.
"I...I guess so," I said meekly.

"Well, you must. You haven't taken your eyes from them since I removed my jacket."

I hung my head, feeling guilty...guilty for ogling her...her breast.

"Tell me, Gretchen...did your mother spank you when you were a child?"

"No, never," I sniffled. "She never touched me. She was strict but she never ever spanked me."

"Have you ever been spanked?" she asked. "By a teacher...or anyone?"

I thought it odd, her question. What did this have to do with...with anything? But it brought back a memory...something I hadn't thought of in years. High school....

"When I was a senior in high school I had a teacher who spanked me," I murmured. "It seems so long ago...I can't even remember why she spanked me. I must have done something wrong."

"So, it was a female teacher who spanked you, huh." she said.

"Yes...Mrs Albright. She was a new teacher...young...really pretty. She was my favorite teacher that year. I loved being in her class. I can't remember why she...."

"How did she spank you, Gretchen? Did you bend over a desk...did you lie across her lap?"

"Across her lap," I said as the memory rushed backed to me. "I would lie across her lap and she would...uh...she would pull up my skirt and spank me with her hand. And then..." I hesitated to say any more.

"And then what? You were going to say something else. What?"

"She was so nice afterwards. After spanking me she would apologize. She would tell me how sorry she was she had to spank me. My bottom would be on fire and she'd rub it gently, all the time telling me how sorry she was."

"What else would she say? Did she tell you how nice your ass was...how soft and round...how pretty and inviting it looked?"

"Yes...yes, she would say that! How...how could you know? She would caress me till the sting went away. Caress and rub me gently...her fingers sliding down...down between my cheeks...Oh my god...I remember...her fingers slipping down into my...."

"She fingered your cunt didn't she baby. She fingered you to an orgasm...an orgasm for a eighteen year old. It must have been so pleasurable...a young teacher you admired giving you pleasure you never experienced before. She made you cum!

"Oh god...yes...yes, she did. How did I forget that? Her fingers caressing my pussy...my pussy. It was so dirty...mom would have been so mad if she had found out about it. I never told anyone...not my mother or anyone because...because I wanted it...I wanted her to finger me. I'd do something bad so she'd have to finger me again and again. Lying across her warm lap...cumming......God, how did I forget that all these years?"

"Have you been bad today, Gretchen? Have you done something today you need punished for...that you want to be punished for?"