The Vixen Agency: Julie

"Oowww! You fucking bitch," he screamed, which earned him a slap that snapped his head hard to his right.

"You've got that right, scumbag," responded Julie, quite calmly. "I'm a bitch. I am a fucking bitch, as you're going to find out. You'll get your chance to speak in a moment."

He did keep quiet, but it didn't stop him staring at her with a sullen expression. He looked around, trying to take in his surroundings. He was about to say something, opened his lips, but then thought better of it as Julie stood, hands on hips, just looking down at him, wearing a smile that made him wonder what was going to happen.

She reached into her boot, extracting a knife with a six inch blade, and cut through the ties. She flipped the knife, caught it by the tip and, without looking, threw it into a target circle on the door, hitting it dead centre.

She turned and walked away, her back to him, listening for any sound to tell her he was getting out of the chair. When she turned he was rubbing his wrists and ankles, trying to get some feeling into them, and she watched him in silence for a short while.

"Strip!" The command came from between her lips as fast as the knife.

He didn't move, determined he wasn't going to make it easy for her. She didn't say a word, just walked over to the door, running her fingers over the knife handle. Without looking at him she said, in a quiet voice, "I won't say it again." She heard the chair creak behind her.

She turned and walked towards him. "Everything off. I want you naked."

He slowly pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it on the floor. Standing up, he unbuttoned his belt, opened his zip, allowing his trousers to drop to his ankles. He realised he still had to remove his shoes and socks, so he sat down, and finally had everything in a heap in front of him.

She picked up his clothes and threw them into a basket.

"You won't be needing any clothes while your here. Don't you wear underwear? You dirty scumbag! Stand up!"

He hesitantly obeyed, so busy wondering what was going to happen. He took a step forward, away from the chair, which was a mistake. An instant later he was on his knees, looking at the floor and holding his soft belly where Julie's fist had connected.

"Get up," she commanded.

He slowly got on his knees, and with an effort pushed up from the floor, straightening his legs until he finally stood upright. She took hold of his shoulders, driving her knee into his genitals. His legs sagged but she held him up, and drove her knee into him again. This time she let go and allowed him to collapse.

"Time to get you cleaned up,"'said Julie, seizing him by his hair and dragging him towards the end of the room where the walls were tiled and the floor covered with a smooth padding.

"Crawl to the wall and stand facing it," she commanded.

She watched him do as she had instructed and then told him to turn around. He looked at her in silence as she stood holding a fire hose. Julie turned the release lever and he was hit by a blast of cold water that kicked him hard him back up against the wall, pinning him in position unable to move. She played the water up and down his body as he struggled to avoid it, easing off sufficiently for him to turn towards the wall before turning the pressure up again slamming him against the wall. His shrunken penis was squashed between his body and the tiles. Suddenly the water stopped. He turned away from the wall and Julie called to him.

"Over here," she shouted.

As he stepped towards her, Julie hit him with a blast that knocked him off his feet, with such force his body slid across the smooth floor until he hit the wall. She made no attempt to hide her enjoyment, laughing loudly, as she walked around adjusting the direction of her hose, making the hapless Brad skid around until she finally decided he'd had enough. Or to be more accurate, when she had enough.

"Dry yourself off," Julie told him, throwing a towel in his direction. He crawled to the edge of the padding, collected the towel, and began drying himself. He has been so thoroughly drenched the towel was soon so wet it was unusable.

"That's enough," she said, after a couple of minutes, realising he was trying to delay whatever was coming next. "Come here," she commanded.

She retrieved her knife, opening the door and pushed him forward. She took hold of his arm, squeezing tight enough to make him wince and try to pull away, marching him down the corridor, halting when they came to a door with the number eight painted on it.

"Inside," said Julie, as she opened the door, roughly throwing him forward, the result being he ended up in a heap on the floor.

Brad looked round, and saw this room was different from the first one. No water hoses, which brought a sigh of relief. A high backed padded chair, with arms, and looking like the throne upon which you expected to see royalty sitting, was set at one end of the room. Left by the previous owners of Chatelaine House and put to good use by every Provider. It seemed to be the only furniture in the room. Leaving him stood by the door, him knowing it was useless to run, Julie walked to the chair, sat and crossed her legs, sitting upright.

"Kneel before me," she instructed him, pointing to a cross marked on the floor three feet in front of her."

He began to rise but, before he was fully off his knees, Julie stopped him.

"Crawl to your Mistress, scumbag," exclaimed Kate. "You need to realise your position when with me is on your knees. Now position yourself."

He crawled to her on his hands and knees, roughened from the stone floor, until he knelt facing her. He felt Julie's boot on the back of his head, forcing it down until his forehead touched the cold stone.

"Bow your head to your Mistress. While you are here you will submit. Lick my feet. Shine that leather with your tongue."

He tentatively bowed his head, reluctant to taste the leather, and squealed when he felt the tails of the flogger stripe his fleshy rear.

"Lick," commanded Julie," as she applied the flogger again, this time lashing at the top of his legs.

"Get you lips to the leather and use your tongue. The better the job you make the less the punishment."

He wasn't to know she had no intention of taking it easy on him. There was no safe word for this consultation. For the normal IC, yes, but not for him. He began licking, not eagerly, but he was licking.

"You'll need to better than that if you want to keep some skin on your back. Your Mistress enjoys nothing more than seeing blood leaking through ripped skin." If that doesn't , if he was wearing them, make him crap his pants nothing will, she thought.

She lashed him across the shoulders and his eagerness quickened as his fear grew. He couldn't see Julie silently laughing at him knowing his predicament wasn't going to get any better. He didn't like the flogger, as Julie alternated between his shoulders and leaning forward to give attention to his buttocks, but he definitely wouldn't like what was coming next.

"That's enough," said Julie. "Back away from me."

He moved as instructed until the feel of a timber frame behind him made him stop.

"Turn and see the present I've got for you next, scumbag," she laughed, enjoying her own joke.

The frame before him was in two pieces. The bottom part was adjustable in height and in the centre of the frame was a rubber ring inserted into a circular hole. Julie adjusted the frame to a height were she could push his cock and balls through the rubber ring. The ring was tight enough he wouldn't be able to withdraw them without assistance. There were semi-circular cutouts in the top of the frame and she told to lay his wrists in them so his hands were on the same side as his genitals. Julie fastened the top frame, with matching cutouts, so his wrists were trapped, and locked it into position. He was now stood, his body on one side of the frame, and his hands and genitals on the other side.

"Any idea what comes next?" inquired Julie, with a smirk.

He shook his head.

"In that case we'd better get on with it. You must be anxious to find out," she said, sarcastically.

Before he had time to think about it she slapped his cock, hard. His mouth shot open, and this time he didn't squeal, he screamed. Before the scream had died she hit him again. She went and collected a stool from behind the chair, sat down in front of him and began slapping him. A hand from one side and then a hand from the other side, every slap bringing a scream. She stopped and began stroking his cock with one hand, the other gently holding his balls. Despite his predicament he soon became hard.

"Look at your clock, Brad. You do seem to be enjoying my being nice to you. Look how rigid you are, and those balls must be really full now. You must have been saving up a big load for my friend. A pity you won't get any satisfaction from using what's in them."

She continued stroking him, caressing his balls, as his body tensed, pushing hard up against the other side of the frame with his hands clenching tight, nails biting into his palms.

"Are we getting close, Brad? Do you want to come? I'm doing everything to help you. Is that your breathing increasing? You must be getting close."

The first evidence appeared and she immediately released both hands. His cum slowly dribbled out, dripping down onto the floor, and a sorrowful cry escaped his lips, as his body sagged and he moaned in despair.

"Oh, I am sorry," said Julie, without an ounce of sincerity in her voice. "Let me clean you up. We don't want you looking a dirty boy, do we now? Especially when you are such a little boy anyway." Her sincerity only matched by her sarcasm. "I'll get your towel. Some part of it will be dry."

She retrieved the towel and began to gently, like a mother with a little boy, dry him off. Wiping the towel around and along his length, extracting what was left of his discharge.

"We're still hard," she said, as if she'd never experienced the result of a ruined orgasm before, or induced one. It was surprising the number of IC's who enjoyed a ruined orgasm. "That's nice. Let's see what we can do to it. Sorry, I meant with it," she giggled.

She held onto his balls, not tightly, just firmly enough for him to feel her, and stroked his manhood with her palm, the soft leather doing nothing to decrease his stiffness. She wrapped her hand around him, feeling him tense with the feel of the leather, and gently squeezed bringing forth a faint moan of delight.

"Look down at this, Brad. Your manhood seems quite happy with what's happening."

As he looked down she lifted up his cock and, with the palm of her other hand, slapped his balls squashing them against the rubber ring. She looked up at him, enjoying the contortions of his face as he howled, and before the sound had waned she slapped him again. Taking hold of him by his sac, she looked at him.

"Come on, Brad. You can't possibly enjoy it properly if you aren't watching. You must be enjoying it. Your cock seems to be."

As he, once again, looked down at his still rigid cock, and his balls clenched in her fist, she slapped him hard, and the sound of his pain filled the room. Back and forth her hand swept as she mercilessly tormented him. Seizing him by the base she changed the angle, slapping downwards as she held his cock immobile. Glancing up at him, a maniacal look in her eyes, a devilish smile on her lips, she took the end of his cock in her mouth, and bit HARD, her intention to leave teeth marks so deep every time he went for a pee in the next few days he'd would be reminded of her. Not that he would need reminding, with what she was putting him through, and she want finished yet.

She walked behind him and a few moments later returned with a large wooden spoon. He closed his eyes, not wanting to know what was coming next.

"Palms up," she instructed him. "Do not attempt to close your hands. You will regret it. Open your eyes."

He opened his eyes just as the ladle came down on his hand. It was as if a nail had been driven into his palm. From somewhere he dragged out the resolve not to cry out. After she had used it on him a few times, alternating between hands, he was unable to not clench his fists. The impact of the hard wood across his knuckles must have made him think she'd broken his fingers. Possibly had. It didn't stop her. If he wanted to keep his fingers shut Julie was quite happy to smack his knuckles instead of his palms. Despite the pain in his fingers he uncurled them, accepting her striking his palms as the lesser of two evils.

Eventually she stopped, his body sagged in relief, but he was only granted a few seconds before he felt the touch of a crop on his buttocks. He shivered, knowing he wasn't going to enjoy whatever was next, as she caressed his skin, sliding the soft leather tip across one cheek and then the other.

"How are we doing, Brad? Enjoying yourself? There's plenty more to come. I haven't finished with you yet," she whispered in his ear, just before she snapped her wrist and brought the crop into action.

The loudness of his screams was making her wonder if Mrs Carruthers could hear. She didn't like the idea of keeping her awake but she didn't want to go easy on him and she did like the way he screamed. Reluctantly she fastened him with a ball gag. If it was a choice between her enjoyment and Mrs Carruthers disturbed sleep the latter had to be more important. Not that it mattered to Brad.

Julie eventually stood back and admired her handiwork. She had to admit to herself she was very good with a crop. She had blotched him equally on both cheeks from the crack between them down to the top of his legs. Tomorrow it would look as if a purple towel was laid across him.

"I'm going to let you rest for a while, Brad. All this activity has tired me out."

There was a fridge in the corner, well disguised so you wouldn't know it was there unless you made a point of looking. She took a large glass, tipped in some dark rum and ginger beer, added a touch of lime and some ice cubes. She released him from the stocks and told him to kneel, sideways on, before the throne. She sauntered over, glass in hand, sat in the chair and used him as a footstool.

"I hope you realise you're getting special treatment, Brad. You are a very lucky guy," she said, as she swallowed a healthy mouthful of her favourite drink, and surveyed the body below her.

He muttered something under his breath.

"What was that, Brad? I hope you weren't saying anything dirty and nasty. Boys who misbehave are punished. Do you want to be punished?" She chuckled to herself because if what she was subjecting him to wasn't punishment then nothing was. "If you have something to say, speak up," she laughed, "or forever hold your piece. Would you like to hold your piece right now, Brad? Massage it to try and stop it hurting?"

"Why are you doing this to me.?" He was no longer the person from the bar. He was no longer the arrogant misogynist who, with his friends, humiliated and took advantage of innocent young women. He was someone who couldn't understand why this was happening to him.

"Why are you doing this to me? What have I done to you? Why are you treating me like this? What have I done to deserve this? I haven't done anything. I've done nothing wrong." His plaintive voice echoed from the walls.

"You haven't done anything to me, Brad," she stated, matter-of-factly.

"Then why," he said, wearily, his head bowed, resting on his hands. "Why?"

Julie was just about to tell him when the door opened and in walked Kate.

"Just in time," exclaimed Julie. "I was just about to explain why he's in this predicament."

"I thought I might have been too late," said Kate. "With what's happened I thought I'd better give the other IC a longer consultation than he expected and I've only now locked him in his cage."

"I was about to begin the finale, but explain before I began why he's here and why he doesn't want to come back," explained Julie. "Let's get him into position and then we can explain."

They took him over to what looked like a padded bench seat, just wide enough for two people to sit on if they squashed together, but the seat was only a few inches off the floor which made it look odd.

"Kneel on the bench," Julie told him.

He looked at the seat and hesitated, wondering what it was for and what was going to happen. While he was thinking Kate moved in front of him and her leather clad fist hit him at waist height. As he doubled over she pushed him upright, stepped forward, and her knee rammed into his genitals.

"I did enjoy that," she said, as he crumpled to the floor. Julie grasped him by the hair, yanked him to his feet, and threw him onto the fucking bench. Kate fastened him into position by locking leather cuffs on his ankles while Julie moved to the other side, pulled him over by his hands, stretching his arms in front of him, enabling her to restrain him by wrapping nylon cord around his wrists, looping it through rings at the base of the bench, pulling it tight making it impossible to move without chafing his wrists. He lay there, unable to move his legs, unable to move his arms, his stomach hard up against the top of the seat. He lay there, trying to listen to what Julie and Kate were saying behind him, but couldn't pick out a single word because they were speaking quietly. The longer he lay there the more nervous, the more apprehensive, he became.

"What are you thinking, Brad?" He heard Kate say. "Wondering what we intend to do with you now? I can tell you you'll be released in about thirty minutes because we'll be finished with you. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"If I haven't done anything to you why are you doing this to me?" he said, plaintively.

They could tell he genuinely had no idea.

"What did you intend to do with me, Brad, after you'd got me away from that bar? What did you and your two friends intend to do. Tell us, Brad. Exactly where were we going?"

"You have a reputation, Brad,2 said Julie, mildly. "You and your friends like forcing a woman to have sex against her will and you have been getting away with it. We are going to convince you it would not be wise for you to continue. If you do we will bring you back here again. Not something you will want to happen."

Brad remained silent, unable to take his eyes from Kate, obviously trying to think how to answer her.

"Do you know how it feels for a woman to have a man's cock thrust into her against her will?" asked Julie.

"No," whimpered Brad.

"That's a pity," laughed Julie.

As she finished talking Kate and her walked round the bench and stood in front of him, their final punishment hanging down between their legs. They each took hold of their identical cocks, lifting and caressing them as if they were masturbating. Brad couldn't take his eyes from the huge phalluses, so much bigger than his own, so much bigger than any he had ever seen. With the tip of his tongue he touched the roof of his mouth, which had suddenly gone dry, and suddenly couldn't think of anything to say. His thoughts had slipped into a void.

Kate moved closer, putting the head of her cock to his lips.

"Have you ever sucked a cock, Brad?"

He shook his head, unable to look her in the eyes.

"Ever had your cock sucked, Brad?"

He nodded.

"So you know what to do. Get on with it. This cock is going up your arse very soon. The more you can lubricate it, the better you can lubricate it, the easier it will be for you. Because make no mistake, you are going to get well and truly fucked by us both. We'll show you what it's like to have a cock shoved into your arse when you don't want it. Open your mouth, scumbag."

He had scarcely got his lips open when she shoved her cock into his mouth, stretching his lips wider than he would ever have thought possible. She only got three inches inside before he began to have difficulty breathing.