Pauline's Diaries Ch. 05

August 28th.

I am chaperoned round the town by Mrs Bain every time I go out. When we get home I stand there, head bowed, as she delivers her false account of me making eyes at men. I protest my innocence, but I am shouted down by my husband, which Mrs Bain seems to like. Yesterday was one such case. I expected the usual spanking while Mrs Bain stood silently in the corner, and I was not disappointed. She stood there watching, her face red, as my husband's belt landed across my backside. I found it arousing, and even more so with her delighted eyes on me.

Albert then offered his belt to Mrs Bain. I was told by my husband that he was so lucky to have a woman like Mrs Bain, who told him the truth about his wayward wife.

The belt fell on my backside under the hand of Mrs Bain. I could hear her grunts of exertion. She punished me from the side, and with her free hand twisted in my hair. I feared she would not have stopped if my husband had not told her to.

She folded my husband's belt and pushed it between my teeth. Again grabbing my hair she led me all around the house, on my hands and knees. Albert followed behind and watched. Mrs Bain had me stand up, and then she attached clothes peg to each of my nipples! I will never forget the joy on her red cheeked face as I yelped with pain. I was stood at the sink and told to wash up, as she and my husband sat at the kitchen table watching, and drinking brandy.

A wooden spoon landed on my backside a few times, but with a light flicking movement rather than a hard smack. Again it was Mrs Bain who wielded the spoon, until I had dried the dishes. I was then told to lie on the table, and Mrs Bain was encouraged, by my husband, to use the spoon to open my pussy in search of evidence of my discretions. Dear diary, my own wetness was twisted into proof of my excitement at looking at other men. As further punishment for this crime, the pegs on my nipples were twisted by my husband.

If I did not know either of them, I would say Mr Cox and Mrs Bain was a couple. Not only because of their perverse sharing of dishing out my punishment, but they looked well suited as a husband and wife. I would have them fuck in front of me, and Mrs Bain could eye me with a cruel look if she so desired. I can well imagine him between her plump thighs, as I stand next to the bed with my red backside. I do not know what freak of nature I am, because I try and fight these and other peculiar thoughts, but I continually fail.

My husband pulled down his zip, and then had me bent over on the kitchen floor, again with his belt held between my teeth. I am sure Mrs Bain watched through the crack in the door for a time on her way out. It only spurred me on to buck back against my husband. Now it is not just my husband and I who know I have orgasms after such torture, and Mrs Bain also has a hand in punishing me too!

I get incredibly turned on reading my grandmother's accounts of her sex life. But I have to put that on hold for now, but only to visit the brothel. I've had sex with Samuel a few times now. He seems up for it whenever I turn up, and no I'm not complaining. I've invited Doctor Trent to see my grandmother's brothel, although I didn't say the word Brothel. I also want a check up. I feel sore in my pussy, well who wouldn't after his large cock has had its fun.

I've been thinking of Rose a lot since the day I woke up with my hand in her panties. I've thought about what she said on my doorstep, about not being sorry I touched her. She's in her early 50's, and she is slim. I think she eats all the right things, and looks after her body more than most women of that age. I've never thought of her as a lover, but just lately I've been daring myself to try and seduce her. She's a sort of plain Jane type, but pretty in ways those types of women are. There isn't anything that you would call really sexy about her, but maybe that's what interests me. Her hair is brown with grey flecks, and it is styled with an easy to care for perm. I don't think I can recall her wearing any makeup, and her clothes apart from a few summer dresses are plain and simple. She does wear old fashioned stockings, not with seams, but they are in that delicate nylon just like my grandmother wore.

I get off the bus and the driver gives me another little look and a smile. I pass people who look at my tight black skirt that stops on my knees, and is so tight my steps are confined to small ones. I'm wearing black stockings with seams, again from my grandmother's collection, with the Cuban heel. I love my red open toed court shoes with a 5 inch heel; they match my red gypsy top. I'm not wearing a bra, or panties, but a red suspender belt to hold my stockings up.

Doctor Trent greets me at the gates of the brothel. She seems eager to get this over with; it took me a few days to get her here because she is so busy. Even before she says hello, she is telling me she hasn't got time for being shown round a house.

As my tour gets underway she has become a little more interested, but she is still acting like she would rather be somewhere else. I don't bother with the dungeon yet, but she takes an interest in my grandmother's dressing room, but even that is a little rushed.

There is a slight flicker in her eyes at how I'm dressed, but she doesn't comment on it. I sit in the chair and cross my legs, which is quite a challenge in the very tight skirt.

For a few minutes I tell her about Samuel, his size, and how often we've had sex. She sits as she normally does, just listening. Then I tell her I'm sore, and my pussy is red inside. She says she should have a look, which I smile at inside.

"Not yet, I want to give you something for all the help you've given me over the years."

She raises an eyebrow.

She has already moaned about Dora on way round the house, and having to get back to her. I sit her at my grandmother's dressing table. She sits still moaning about having to go. I reach for a nail file.

"I'm going to give you a makeover, perhaps then Dora will appreciate you."

"Sylvia I don't have time for this nonsense," she moans.

I file her nails, and then open a bottle of blood red nail varnish. Her hand recoils like she has put in on a hot oven ring. She tells me she has never worn nail polish in her life. That figures. It takes me 2 minutes to coat her nails, and then I open a pack of tan seamed nylon stockings, as she sits watching me.

"Sylvia that's far enough, I'm not wearing them."

"Oh come on, isn't Dora worth making an effort for?"

"I can put them on," she says finally relenting.

"No, your nails are still wet, and I know you're wearing stockings, but these are sexy, and more expensive."

Doctor Trent.

I've tried to push her away, but deep down this is what I want. I'm wondering whether all the hypnosis I've done on Sylvia in the past has somehow stuck. She isn't under my control today, but she is behaving, although a little childishly, just like how I imagine in my fantasies. I've never been pampered like this, but it feels good. She unbuttons my dress and kneels in front of me. I can feel her breath on my thigh as she unclips my stockings, and then rolls them down.

She smoothes one of the new stockings in place on my leg, and then attaches it to my suspender straps. I want to grab her head and hold it against my pussy, but like I'm in some sort of daze, I let her carry on.

I look down on her as she attaches the second stocking, and I feel her knuckle lightly graze my panties. She doesn't change in her task, and there isn't the slightest flicker on her face that she has touched my panties. Her delicate fingers work the clips, and she stands up. For a moment I'm lost in what to do. If she is flirting with me, although I can't be sure, it is subtle.

As she does up my dress I can feel her breath on my neck, she stands in front of me looking down and doing up each button. Does she know what she is doing to me? Can she feel the way my eyes watch her? I watch her long lashes coated in mascara, and the two shades of brown eye shadow that young women wear these days. I feel her knuckles on my breasts as she twists the buttons in their holes. I realise I've been holding my breath for the last few seconds, as she does up the buttons which are only 3 inches apart. I'm glad I wore this dress, with nearly 30 buttons, and not the one with just 8. She stands back.

I go to do up the top few buttons of my dress, and she bats my hand away.

"No, you have a nice cleavage, show it off a little," she says with a wicked smile.

I go to do up the buttons on the bottom of my dress, but she stops me.

"Dora will like a little glimpse of thigh," she says with a suggestive wink.

I step into 2½ and a half inch heels, the highest I've ever worn. She stands back and looks me up and down, taps her bottom lip with a finger, and then she moves like a light has come on in her head. I sit there still protesting, but wanting the eye makeup. She reaches in her bag and pulls out a lipstick, her own lipstick!

"See the lipstick matches our nails."

I look at her nails and then at mine, we have the same shade of nail varnish, and I've only just noticed! I protest about the lipstick, because this has gone way beyond what I am comfortable with, and what I've experienced in the past.

"Don't be a baby Rosie, it's the finishing touch."

I like the way she calls me Rosie, it is so intimate. I let her paint my lips, watching her eyes concentrating as she works. I'm sure for someone who has painted her lips so many times; she is being deliberately slow with the whole thing. She folds a tissue and holds it to my lips, and like some mindless idiot I clamp the tissue.

I watch her appraising me again. She goes behind me and with her hands gently on my shoulders she turns me round, until I'm facing a full length mirror. Looking back is the figure of a woman in her 50's who can't be me. I've never looked like this. I've never taken the time to look anything halfway to what's staring back. She stands in front of me blocking my reflection. I do as I'm instructed and stick a leg forward. She fiddles with two buttons on my dress, and I see thigh, and stocking tops when she moves aside.

"You look lovely Rosie."

"I, I can't go out like this," I stammer.

"Why not, you look good, respectable with a hint of...well a huge hint of sexy, it is nothing to be ashamed of, it is to be embraced.

Sylvia.

I take her by the hand and lead her down to the dungeon.

"If you want you can bring Dora down here. You said you like the Dom sub thing."

"Dora, wouldn't...not like this, she doesn't like it at all," she moves round the room and says, "these things are real, and I do believe some are originals."

I'm watching her eyes as they flit from one torture device to the next.

"What's this?" I ask.

She takes it from me like it's a priceless work of art.

"Sylvia, this is well, maybe not an original but it is old. It is called the pear, or the pear of anguish. You push that part in the vagina turn the key on the thread and it opens up like a fan, spreading the vagina, like so."

I watch, as the egg shaped metal object begins to open into four parts. It opens wider and wider until it is big enough to put a football in.

I shudder and pull open a drawer, "What about these little bar things?"

"They are called Prince Albert bars or wands. They are pushed into the penis."

"Maybe they were named after my grandfather," I say with a chuckle, but she's not listening.

"And this?" I ask opening a cupboard.

Rose's eyes widen and she bumps past me. She pulls out a heavy metal box. She puts it on the metal table, and pushes an electrical lead into a socket. She opens a few drawers, until she finds what she's looking for.

Large cock shaped objects of various sizes are laid out on the table. Some rubber, some plastic, and some metal, all with varying tips on.

"It's an early 70's machine I think," She mumbles to herself more than me.

She attaches a long plastic penis shaped object, and presses a switch. I jump back as the penis starts moving forward and then backwards.

"You can control the speed, and the amount of travel with these dials on the side. Simply put Sylvia, it's a fucking machine. The sub woman or even man, lies strapped to the bed while the Dom uses the machine to fuck them, varying the speed and depth at will."

Doctor Trent.

Suddenly I'm aware I've become a little to enthusiastic. I'm talking to Sylvia like I would those men from the ministry about my mind chip. I have to get away from her, before I start blabbing about my work.

"I have to go Sylvia. I've been here too long, Dora will be angry."

"Aren't you going to examine me first? We can do it here."

She fiddles with the zip on her skirt, telling me she thinks it is stuck. I walk behind her and my fingers slip the zip down. I watch her wiggle the tight skirt down over her hips to her ankles, and then she turns facing me. She isn't wearing panties, and with everything that has happened today I'm convinced she wants more than an examination. I've lost control a few times today, this isn't like me. My experiments are thought though, my hypnosis has a purpose, and I am careful and methodical. Today she has peeled back my layers of disguise, and broken down my safety barriers, until I feel this strange weakness and vulnerability.

"Quickly then, before I have to go."

Sylvia.

I lay on the cold metal table and I put my feet up in the stirrups. She raises an eyebrow when I tell her I'll keep my shoes on.

I tell her of Samuel, and how he is a big black man, with a big cock which I like fucking me. I know that won't turn her on, but now I know a little more about her I'm going to change tack.

"Doctor Trent, Rosie, I feel I've missed out on a more feminine experience. Do you think that's why I touched you in my sleep?"

She stops and looks at me. I can see her mind trying to work out where this is going.

"I mean, would I be attractive to women? What I mean is you said you weren't sorry for what happened, does that mean you fancy me?"

"Sylvia, I'm your doctor, it is unprofessional of me to have, if I had feelings like that for you, for one of my patients, I mean."

I watch her eyes skipping around the room, and the way she stutters is quite comical, but those blushing cheeks would feel so good between my legs.

"You ought to get down, I shouldn't have come here, I shouldn't have let you dress me like this. Dora isn't going to be happy."

"Rose, I don't want to come between you and Dora, but can't we just try some of the things you like, things she won't do?"

"No, now I haven't got any gloves so I can't examine you, please get down. This isn't right."

"I still want you to examine me, and never mind about the gloves. Do the straps up."

Doctor Trent.

To have her helpless like this, without hypnosis, is something I've thought about many times. Would it be so bad? After all I want her, and I always have. I pull the leather straps round her left ankle, like she asked me, and I hold then.

"Are you sure you want me to do the straps up?" I ask with a thickness in my throat

She nods, "I don't want to kick you."

I do the straps up tight and she winces. Her pussy is glistening, and I know she's turned on.

She half giggles, "There Doctor Trent, I'm at your mercy now."

She tried to say it like she was joking, but her face is red, and her thigh is quivering a little.

She gasps a little as I push a trembling finger between her legs. She winces a bit as I touch her pussy walls. I spread her a little wider and look.

"You're a little red, and there are signs of bleeding, but nothing to bad. I've got some cream in my bag you can apply later."

"Can't you do it for me Doctor Trent, pretty please, Rosie?"

She sits up and our faces are inches apart. For a moment I was her doctor while I examined her, but now I'm stood between her legs, fingering her pussy with a dollop of cream. I so want a kiss and I can see the lust in her eyes as she thrust her pelvis forward. She leans on one hand and with her other she pushes my arm, until most of my hand is in her pussy. I watch her wince, which delights me, as my whole hand is in her now.

"Not so much Rose, not any further."

I ignore her until my wrist enters her body. Now she is trying to pull my hand out, but I use more force. She gasps and then cries out. I love the pained expression on her face, but suddenly I ease off. Once again I've lost control!

I start undoing the straps. My usually skilful fingers are fumbling and useless. She slips down off the table; she's a few inches taller than me. I can feel her huge breasts touching mine. Her hands are gathering up my dress.

"Stop, please Sylvia, stop," I whimper.

"No Rosie, you had your fun, if you want me to stop, push me away," she mumbles and I feel her lips on mine.

Her kiss is soft and tender, and nothing like Dora's kiss, not that she kisses me much anymore. I can feel her fingers going down the top of my panties, and snaking their way to my eager pussy. She's still kissing me, and she walks me back slowly until my backside hit something. I put my foot up on the seat of the torture chair, her finger slips easily in my pussy, and we carry on kissing softly.

I put my hand between her legs and she puts her foot up on the chair too. Our nylon clad knees touch and she rocks her leg a little, rubbing our knees lightly together. I can hear the nylon rasp as our stockings graze each others. We carry on kissing and fingering each other.

We start to come and the kissing stops as our fingers mirror each others, we are now cheek to cheek. We both groan, and she kisses my ear, and then our faces lay against each other.

"Your face is so soft Rosie, the softest face I've ever touched."

I've come but her orgasm still goes on. I softly shush her little whimpering cries. Until her orgasm fades away.

She pulls up her skirt and turns her back to me looking over her shoulder with a sexy smile. I kiss her as I pull up her zip. She's happy; I've never seen someone so happy with me for ages!

We did it together without hypnosis, something I've always dreamt of, but never ever thought it would happen. It was beautiful, more beautiful than I imagined. I watch her as she inspects herself in the mirror. Bouncing her hair up, and pulling her skirt into place, I'm spellbound. She turns and smiles at me. Suddenly I feel sad, she sees this and her smile drops too. I have to do something!

"Sylvia, aren't the Tulips looking wonderful this time of year?"

She blinks, and under my hypnosis I instruct her to forget what happened down in the dungeon. What happened in her grandmother's room where all her clothes are stored, I let ride.

She lets me out of the house thinking all that has happened was my make over, and the mild flirtation which happened in the clothes room. I could have just left, but things may become complicated for me. I can't have Sylvia letting something slip about us to the wrong person. That said I'm happy, and I now know what things would be like, if at some point we do have a future together.

"Dora I'm home," I call hoping she'll approve of the new me.

She walks through to the kitchen and stops in her tracks. I'm putting away the groceries, letting her look me over. I feel happy, but a little apprehensive.

"What have you done?" she asks finally.

I twirl round showing off my new look. My smile drops as she stands there shaking her head.

"You look like a slut."

I'm hurt but I won't let it show.

"I just fancied a change. It isn't that bad."

She grins, "Are you trying to make yourself look younger? Found someone else have you, some young bitch who wants you all feminine?"