Lydia's Service Pt. 02

A man I had never met before was fondling my breasts in a busy café as I stared down at the table, unable to even think about anything else whatsoever. His fingers dug deep into my soft flesh through my dress and slip, pushing my bra down as he eased my right breast from my bra and stroked my nipple.

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Hello, I am Lydia. If you read my first account (and even if you have not yet) I left my readers at a point where I was preparing to perform for an associate of my Master.

I am sixty six years old. Physically I am short (5'2") and fat (180lbs.) I wear spectacles to correct short sight.

My breasts are large and hang low. My stomach sags and my thighs are large and highly dimpled. My hair is grey, the shade of steel and is cropped to half an inch long at present. I have no pubic hair.

I am a sex slave, in service to a Master who uses me himself, and hires me out for the entertainment of other men. I serve either in my own apartment, on the fifth floor of a block, at the house approximately 2 miles away that used to be my late Mother's, or at locations specified by my clients.

What I think is important is that you understand where have come from, and a little bit of my relevant past. I won't bore you with much irrelevant details, and that includes most of my adult life.

I was a GP, a Doctor providing consultation on general medical matters for the vast majority of my career. That career was all encompassing and was, essentially, my life until I retired in my early sixties. I never married, and never even had a serious relationship.

My sexual experience was virtually zero. Aside from the odd fumble in my college years I never had sexual desires nor leanings of any sort. If I did and I can't remember, I guess that I suppressed them.

A medical condition of my won shortly after retirement, meant me having treatment that included regular injections of hormones. One side effect of this treatment was that it awakened sexual desires in me that had been dormant for decades.

As these desires developed, I discovered an interest that turned into an obsession, for bondage, discipline and corporal punishment. At first, my desires were sated through online pornography and literature, but as they developed, I realized that I would only achieve fulfillment through participation. I had to find someone to subject me to discipline.

It would be clean and tidy to pretend that I found what I was looking for straight away. Instead, I followed up dead leads and online adverts that led to nowhere but frustration.

Some minor success came from a man whose online advert described him as "an old school headmaster," and he became the first person to administer corporal punishment to me.

This started with a traditional, "six of the best," with the cane over my dress and underwear, and progressed to ten strokes on my bare buttocks with a leather strap, my dress pulled up to my waist and my underwear pulled down.

The experience was painful and humiliating, just as I expected and desired. It was not enough, though. I was quite glad when he ended the sessions because he did not find me sexually attractive.

What he did teach me though, was that if I had specific requirements, I would be better served by seeking them out myself, instead of expecting someone to advertise meeting my desires.

Rather than aiming for a targeted approach in the BDSM forums, I placed an advertisement in the personal (adult) section of my local online community site.

"submissive sexaganarian seeking experience - I am not young nor slim. I am not tall nor particularly attractive. I am seeking an experienced, Dominant man to subject me to bondage and corporal punishment. I do not expect this experience for free. I am willing to pay a negotiable rate, either in cash or by personal arrangement."

I left an email address, but no phone number and waited, but not for long. I was, predictably, inundated with replies. Most asked for personal, revealing photographs. Many more revealed what they would like to do to me, but ones that seemed to recognize my desires were few and far between.

One that stood out was from a man in his forties who called himself Brian. We exchanged several emails before we agreed to a non-committal meet in a public place between our two addresses. This was a busy, small café, several streets away from the city centre of Brighton.

Brian was tall, with dark salt and peppered hair and true to his stated age. He was clean-shaven and wearing a large black overcoat over a black jumper and blue jeans. I ordered and paid for a coffee for myself and sat opposite him at the corner table he had chosen.

We had discussed a lot of details via email so this was, to my mind, a meeting to see if we both felt comfortable with our proposed arrangement. Brian had already stated that he expected no financial rewards, but that he favoured a "personal arrangement," and I was keen to establish what that meant to him.

After small talk I broached the subject, "I don't know what form you want this arrangement to take, Brian?"

"OK, let's start from the beginning and say that this is a neutral meeting and you can call me Brian, but outside of here I expect to be called, 'Sir'. I will be referring to you as, 'prisoner Smith."

My heart skipped a beat. This was sounding very real now. Yes, Sir eerrr Brian," I corrected myself," but what is it you expect from me? I'm hardly sexually experienced as you well know."

He reached up with his hand towards my mouth and pointed his index finger. "Take it in and suck it gently. Run your tongue along it."

Feeling a bit self conscious I complied with his request, sucking his finger, running my tongue and lips down it, my eyes darting around, sure that we were being watched. I was wrong. People were not interested at all in the middle aged man and old lady sat at the corner table.

He withdrew his finger, "Now that wasn't difficult was it?" As I shook my head softly he continued. "You won't have any problem disrobing for punishment, I take it?"

"Taking my underwear off completely you mean?" I asked, perhaps naively.

"Yes, and everything else too!" he laughed. "I'm not just interested in the bare flesh I'm going to be working on, Smith, I like to see what effect it has on the rest of you too."

"I, I, I guess not, "I stammered. I plunged straight into another as yet unexplored area. "The last person to cane me let me go as he didn't find me sexually attractive. I just worry that I have enough to offer you with my limited experience, and I've not exactly got the best body even compared to women my age!"

Brian got up from his bench seat and sat himself beside me. "Undo your coat." As I complied, he reached across me and pulled my coat wide exposing my dress underneath. "I could see even under the coat that you have some assets I can appreciate."

Without asking he cupped my right breast and lifted it. I gasped momentarily. "I'm looking forward to seeing these, and the rest of you," he said as he dropped my breast and began to work it out of my bra so that he could fondle it and tease my nipple.

"Yes, I think we can do business Ms Smith." He emphasized the, "Smith," as if mocking my preferred false name." He wrote an address on a napkin and gave it to me.

"I am going to drive there now and prepare for you. By the time you have walked there, I will be ready for your first punishment. Remember, you can walk away any time you want to, but once you commit to something I will be disappointed if you don't see it through."

I walked along, over a mile, to Brian's address. His street was on a slight uphill incline. The houses on both sides were similar to my Mother's. Detached with small front gardens. As the street was further away from the town centre than my Mother's street, the houses were slightly bigger and looked to have larger rear gardens.

When I reached Brian's door I stopped to contemplate. I wanted to go further than I had before, to discover more about myself and to submit to being under the control of someone else.

I knew, though, that crossing that threshold might change things forever. I was more than a little frightened as well as excited. Brian, opening the door before I could knock, gave me a virtual push down that path.

"Come inside, best not let the neighbours have time to start drawing conclusions," he said, ushering me inside. "Would you like some water before we start?" he asked, "the hill is quite deceptive."

I assured him that I was fine. "Good, good," he said. He was wearing a black, long sleeved shirt with an open collar, black trousers and black, military style boots.

He opened the first door off the hallways and motioned me to go inside, then followed me in, turning the light on. One bare bulb illuminated the room, albeit dimly.

The room like at my Mother's house, was a ground floor bedroom. This one was sparsely decorated. A large, dark wardrobe dominated the room as I walked in, facing it.

A double bed was to my left, with a white sheet stretched over its mattress, two white pillows but no duvet or other covering.

A dark wooden chair sat next to it with what looked like thin steel chains and leather straps. I briefly noticed what looked like a red ball and a black bar about eighteen inches long on the seat of the chair.

"Turn around to face me," said Brian with a bit more authority in his voice. As I turned I noticed the black curtains were drawn and a large wooden box, standing two feet high, eighteen inches deep, and three feet wide, was sat under the window. The box was empty, and had a lid and a hasp, from which a padlock hung, undone.

"Put your handbag in the box," ordered Brian, "and stand up straight with your arms at your sides to receive your punishment address." I dropped my bag in the box and stood as he asked. This certainly was going to be more formal.

Brian cleared his throat. "You are to be punished today with the strap. You will receive 20 strokes. " I gulped and realized that I had started quivering slightly. I had stated my desire to go further but this was just the start and already twice as many strokes as I had received before. I fought the urge to cry out and walk away. What came next froze me rigid!

"I will now prepare you to be taken to the punishment room." I pondered briefly on Brian's statement. I wondered what he meant by prepared, and was this not the room I would be punished in? Those thoughts came crashing down in my head when Brian continued.

"Take off your shoes and clothes and place them in the box, then resume this position!" Momentarily, I thought I had misheard, and Brian enforced his order.

"Strip naked! Clothes in the box, now!"

Facing Brian I removed my slip-on flat shoes and placed them in the box. It felt as though I was wading through treacle, my mind in freefall as I unbuttoned my grey coat and folded it on top of my shoes.

I reached around behind me and unzipped my dress, pulling it off my shoulders and letting it fall. I stepped out of it and folded it next to my coat. I stood in my slip, underwear and tights, almost frozen to the spot, faintly hoping that Brian would state that I had gone far enough.

Surprisingly he did, but it was not for the reason I perhaps hoped at the time. "Right, take the under dress off and stand up straight again!" ordered Brian, tersely. I pulled the slip over my head and let it drop into the box. My tummy flesh hung over the waistband of my panties and tights.

"You haven't quite grasped that when I give you an order, you obey it quickly and without question!" he stated. "Therefore, you have to learn a lesson." He bent down beside me, closed the box lid and locked the padlock.

Standing up again, he took a box knife from his trouser pocket and extended the blade. He knelt in front of me, pulled the waistband of my tights away from my stomach and cut my tights down from the waistband, to my right knee, pulling the material away from my flesh as he did so. He lifted my right foot and pulled the foot of the tights leg off my foot, before turning his attention to the left leg.

He slit the leg and pulled off the remainder of the tights in the same way, discarding them in a metal bin by the door. "Raise your arms!" he ordered, and no sooner had I done so, he pulled my bra forward and cut it between the cups. He pulled the cups apart, gravity followed and my breasts dropped down out of the cups to rest above my stomach.

He grabbed the right shoulder strap first, and cut that, then the left, finally discarding my ruined bra in the bin.

"Arms down, spread your legs shoulder width apart!" he ordered. He knelt on one knee, cutting first the right side of my large panties, then the left and pulled them forwards exposing my full, grey, pubic bush.

I was naked, and submitting myself to the actions of a man I'd met only that day. The significance of this enveloped me as Brian's eyes surveyed my unclothed body.

"You are naked for punishment, naked to be taken to punishment, and naked when you pay for your punishment afterwards!" he stated. I had no opportunity to ask questions as to what paying for my punishment actually entailed, but I had a good idea, given our conversation in the café earlier.

Brian collected the items from the chair. I continued looking forwards so I could only see I my peripheral vision, which isn't great. He passed a thin steel chain tight around my waist, and locked it with a small padlock. "This will take a little time this time but once the positions are set, it will be quicker in future, " explained Brian as he padlocked two handcuffs to the chain, one at each side, placing my wrists in them and clicking them tight.

He bent down, with the black bar, which was a heavy steel tube, a locking cuff on each end. He maneuvered my feet into position and snapped the cuffs closed and tight, above my ankles.

The red ball I had seen was attached to a strap. This was the first time I had encountered a ball gag. Brian placed it in my mouth, and then pulled the straps tight, fastening the buckle behind my neck.

Lastly he attached a thick leather collar, three inches wide, around my neck, pulling the three buckles on it tight before fastening them. I could not drop my head down nor turn it.

The collar had a large steel loop at the front. Brian attached a chain to the loop with a clasp. "You will now be taken to the punishment room where you will be restrained and you will receive your punishment."

"You will keep my pace whilst moving. Lift your feet and do not drag them. If you lose your balance and fall it will be your fault!" He turned and walked, pulling the chain tight, forcing me to shuffle behind him.

I almost lost my balance twice exiting the room into the small hallway before I realized that his instructions were sound and I needed to lift my feet and, "bounce," along on the balls of my feet. My breasts slapped against my chest.

The hallway had three steps down into the kitchen. Brian turned and watched as I descended the three steps, thudding down on my heels, my breasts swaying and slapping wildly.

As the layout of the house was like my Mother's just bigger, I assumed that we were headed to the room to the right of the kitchen, but Brian continued through the kitchen, again sparsely decorated, and opened the back door.

To my horror, I realized that we were headed outside. Outside the back door Brian waited again. As I reached the door I could see twelve stone steps down to a grassed area with a concrete path to a prefabricated concrete outbuilding, the size of a single garage, though there was never any means of getting a car into the rear garden.

"The garden is overlooked so you had better keep up if you don't want to be seen!" Brian walked down the steps and I thudded down in an ungainly manner, my breasts swinging and my feet hurting with the effort.

We moved briskly along the pathway to the door of the outbuilding. Brian unlocked it as I stood, then pulled me inside whilst switching on the two fluorescent lights.

Straps, canes, tawses and whips were hung on plywood boards attached to the walls. Three metal framed chairs stood against the wall that would have been an up and over door had this been a garage.

In the centre stood what Brian introduced as the punishment apparatus. It slightly resembled an exercise bench with its padded bench, except this bench had nylon straps and ratchets.

The main bench was made into a cross shape by two thinner padded bench sections off at right angles, also with nylon straps and ratchets.

At the foot of the main bench were two adjustable legs, rising up at an angle leaning back towards the head of the main bench. The legs had stirrups, and more nylon straps and ratchets.

I was made to stand with my back to the apparatus while Brian addressed me. "You will now be restrained on the apparatus for your punishment. "

Brian unclasped the chain but left the collar on my neck. He unlocked my wrists and ankles, and then undid the padlock, pulling the chain from my waist, all with one key. He was well prepared.

I was made to lie on the main bench with my buttocks on the edge. My arms were stretched out along the thin bench sections and strapped own first, one ratchet strap at each wrist, one at my elbow and one just below each shoulder.

Next my torso was strapped down. One strap above my breasts, and one below them, plus another at my waist. All were ratcheted tight. My breathing was restricted by the ball gag and further restricted by the tightness of the straps.

Brian began lifting each of my legs, and then adjusted the height of the stirrups accordingly.

I felt even more humiliated with my legs in the stirrups. The stirrups leaned backwards so that my buttocks were pushed out and up, my thighs were spread and my vagina was fully exposed to Brian's view.

I was strapped in the stirrups at my knees and ankles. Brian stood between my splayed thighs. "When I apply the strap to your buttocks it will be with full-arm strokes. I will try not to hit your vagina, labia and clitoris. Although I will be careful, there is a chance that these areas will be struck, and this will cause you significant pain."

"To prevent infection, should your skin break, I can apply some topical ointment to those areas before your punishment begins. This will not decrease the severity of the pain but will help healing afterwards. It will mean me using my hands and fingers around your anus and vagina. Do you wish me to apply the ointment?"

I nodded, and Brian took a pair of blue disposable gloves from a box on a shelf, along with a pump bottle. He pumped out a quantity of ointment that I did not see onto one gloved hand, replaced the bottle then began spreading the greasy ointment around my buttocks, and between my buttocks, including my sphincter that involuntarily pulsed as he touched it

I felt his fingers parting my bush and the fingers of his other hand rubbing ointment onto my clitoris, my labia and along the length of my vagina. His touch was gentle and never protruding.

He took off the gloves and addressed me formally again. "Prisoner Smith, you are sentenced to a punishment of no less than twenty strokes of the strap to your buttocks. In addition, you have incurred one penalty stroke for not obeying an order directly. This stroke will be given after your formal punishment and will be administered using the steel rod." He pointed to a thin, steel rod, three feet long that hung on the wall.

"Each infraction during a punishment session will earn you one further stroke of the rod, to be applied after your next punishment."

He set up a small digital clock on the shelf and lifted down a short strap, perhaps two feet long. He positioned himself and aimed the strap, lightly tapping my buttocks.