Undue Influence

Steph, those boots are something else. The first time I saw them, in a shop in the Old Port district, I laughed aloud. They are the ultimate in kinky boots. Black leather, spike heels. And very long. These boots are so long they come almost to the tops of my thighs, and with my legs --

[I couldn’t resist interrupting her. “Sorry to break in, dear, but I’m quite familiar with your physique. You’re one of the tallest women I know, and you definitely have the longest and most shapely legs. Now, go on, please.”]

Have you quite finished, Stephanie? May I continue? OK. The boots nearly reach up to my pubic hair when I’m naked. Drives Ralph utterly wild when I’m wearing them. As I can testify, there are now two answers to male erectile dysfunction -- Viagra, and those boots.

If the zippers ever get stuck while I’m wearing them, the boots will stay on me for ever. They are as tight as they can be without being intolerably uncomfortable. I practiced walking across to the platform; the spikes are so tall it’s like being on stilts. I called for Ralph, and again heard him marching purposefully across the kitchen floor over my head before he hurried down the cellar stairs.

“Let’s just get these lights positioned right.” He fiddled with the flood lamps and flicked the switch. I recoiled from the dazzling light as the heat of those high-energy lamps instantly warmed the naked parts of my body. The whole cellar was ablaze with blinding daylight.

“Yes, magnificent, Jessica. You look almost overdressed, wearing those boots and nothing else. I don’t know how you do it, but when you’re in the nude your bare bottom manages to convey the utmost in pride and defiance. Just as you do. Well, I’ll just have to cure you of those character flaws. Stand there on the plinth. Put your hands on your head.”

So he wasn’t going to tie me up yet. I complied, stepping up onto the platform with care. I turned away from him and shook my hair down. It cascaded down my back, almost to my waist. Some wisps were tickling my breasts. As elegantly as I could, I placed my hands as he had directed. Ralph produced a thick leather strap from somewhere. It was heavy, wide -- at least two inches -- and a couple of feet long. I had encountered it before.

“We’ll start with this.”

Unemotionally, he stood a little to my left and looked me up and down, appraisingly. With a graceful, side-stepping dance movement, he brought the belt back, then swung it briskly through a wide arc, bringing the end of it into abrupt contact with my unprotected derrière. It made a satisfying “thwack” on my bare flesh, it even made me gasp involuntarily, but I can’t say the first blow hurt all that much. It was more a symbol of punishment than the real thing. That would come later. But the next one definitely got my attention. I actually cried out that time. Still, it wasn’t much, relatively speaking. Ralph spanked me a couple more times with the strap before putting it aside. By then I found the respite welcome.

“Enough of that, Jessica. Time for some real punishment. In restraints. You had better get your leather outfit on. Hurry up, don’t keep me waiting.”

My heart was pounding, and it was hard to get my breath. Punishment down in the cellar usually means the whip. And Ralph is terribly inaccurate with that thing. He wanted me in leathers, and I certainly didn’t disagree with him. Even with thick cowhide between my naked body and that whip, it could still hurt like hell. Walking as quickly as I could in those boots, I got into my cubicle and started putting my outfit on. That’s easier said than done. Bending my legs in those boots is practically impossible. Anyway, I put my white cotton panties back on, then my tight black leather mini skirt (I thought, he’ll want them off later, but he can take care of that himself when the time comes). And my sleeveless black leather vest, with the huge zipper up the front. He always whips my rear, but if he misses, the end of that whip can snap round and catch me on the front somewhere. Now that can hurt, especially on the boobs. Hence the leather vest.

Ralph didn’t say a word as he came over to me. His mouth was set in a grim line. He grabbed my wrists and turned me to face him. After buckling a wide leather bracelet to my left wrist, he led me up onto the platform again, hooked the end of a dog’s chain into a steel loop in the bracelet, and passed the other end through one of the rings over my head. Ralph’s very tall; even with my ridiculously high heels, he was still taller than me and had no trouble reaching the beam. He pulled the chain tight and fastened it to a hook that’s fixed to the beam a few inches away. He buckled on the other bracelet and repeated the process, pulling my right wrist tight against the other ring. I knew from experience that the most comfortable way to handle this was simply to grasp the rings with my hands. I did so. My arms were now stretched above my head, my hands wide apart.

“Very attractive, Jessica. All we need now is to restrain those lovely long legs.”

Too bad. When my legs are free, I can have fun trying to dodge his blows. Holding the rings, I can even swing myself upward, like a gymnast. Not this time, obviously. I gasped as he bent down and quickly ran loops of rope around my ankles, tying the ends of the ropes to the rings set into the belts on the platform. To my surprise he didn’t stretch my legs wide; my feet were only about a foot apart. Probably so he could get my clothes down around my feet later without untying me. But I still wasn’t quite sure what was coming next -- I wanted pain, but if it was going to be sex that would have been fine, I was certainly ready for it. Would he come at me from the front or the back?

Ralph rummaged in a wooden chest and came back waving the whip. A strong pulse was thudding in my throat. This was going to be delicious, fantastic. And if he did it right, it was going to hurt exquisitely.

The wooden part of the whip was a foot long, painted in black enamel. The whip itself was a narrow strip of black leather, about two feet in length. We had acquired it from an antique shop. I had never realized how many types there were. You could get much longer ones, but this one was plenty long enough for me.

For an anxious moment I thought he might remove my skirt and panties before laying into me with the whip. I would have been quite powerless to stop him. But Ralph showed no sign of doing so. He set the whip aside, stepped onto the platform, and approached me gently from the front.

“You’re beautiful, Jessica.” He embraced me, then pulled up my skirt and cupped my pantied buttocks in his hands. He kissed me full on the lips. It was frustrating, not being able to hug him back. Being tied up helplessly was also extremely sexy, especially when he slid a hand round to the front and inserted a couple of stiff fingers between my legs, rubbing the crotch of my underwear. I whined in pleasure. He slowly withdrew, then went behind me, unzipped my vest, and started gently kneading my breasts. That was exciting. My nipples stood out hard. I felt his erection against my behind as he buried his face in my hair. He stood back again, and I gasped again as he slapped my bottom hard with the flat of his hand.

“Time for your punishment, Jessica. You have been a very bad girl. Acting like a slut. Dirty thoughts. Lewd ideas. Your master must bring you to submission. You will be contrite and accept your chastisement.”

This was terrific. He actually sounded so deadly serious it was almost hysterically funny. But Ralph was absolutely no good at all with that whip, even when I was controlling him. As he hadn’t even bared my behind, I had very little to fear. But at the same time, I could never know for sure what was going to happen during these little episodes. Even though I was the instigator, giving Ralph full control of me in this way could still lead to some pretty unpleasant surprises.

Standing well off to the side, Ralph cracked the whip up and down a couple of times, swatting the concrete floor with it. It made a very satisfactory swishing sound. With difficulty, I twisted my head sideways to look at him. He drew the whip back, and brought it forward quickly.

The end of the whip flapped feebly against my leather skirt. I could hardly feel it. This was even more disappointing than usual. Ralph was utterly inept with that thing. He tried again. A limp slap as it touched my upper right thigh, just above the boot. This was going to be no good at all. Ralph was trying to animate himself into greater effectiveness. He paced back and forth, tensely.

“Jessica, you are shameless. You enjoy parading yourself in your kinky clothes. You seek to corrupt me with deviant fantasies. You deserve to be punished severely. The lash of the whip will correct you.”

Gritting his teeth, Ralph swung the whip as hard as he could from over to my left. This time, it stung slightly as the end of the leather strip whipped round and caught me at the side of the waist. But it was really no good at all. I was on the point of suggesting that we move on to the intimate part of the agenda when, to my utter horror, I heard the unmistakable sound of someone tramping across the kitchen floor overhead.

In near-panic I twisted my head to the right and ducked my head to see round my arm, but my hair was falling over my face and I couldn’t shake it free. Urgently, I hissed at Ralph.

“Ralph! Untie me, quick! You can’t let anyone see me like this!”

He was strangely silent. I still couldn’t see anything, but I heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs, then Peter Hobson came into view to my right.

My heart lurched in my chest and a surge of emotion coursed through me, taking my breath away. This was the very last man in the world I would have wanted to see me like this. Hobson was grinning wildly, his hands at his waist.

“Well, well, well! What have we here? A pleasant domestic interlude in the life of Ralph and Jessica? Family togetherness? A Hallmark moment?”

I was screaming at Ralph.

“Ralph! Get him out of here! Let me out of this, now! What can you be thinking of?”

Ralph was staring, slack-jawed, at Hobson.

“Hi, Peter, nice of you to stop by. Come on in. I can get you a chair . . .”

I yelled at him.

“For goodness’ sake, don’t get him a chair! Get him upstairs! Ralph, you have to get me out of all this, right away, now, this second, please!”

I struggled ineffectually against the restraints. Ralph slowly turned to look at me, his expression dull. With a pang, I suddenly realized that Hobson was controlling him. At the same instant, I felt Hobson’s mind searching mine. ‘Ah, my pretty, so you can control him, can you? But I think you already know you won’t be able to control me, don’t you?’ Hobson was talking insistently to Ralph.

“You don’t seem to be having much luck with that thing. Maybe I can help, give you a demonstration. Give it to me.” Hobson held his hand out. Meekly, Ralph handed him the whip, and turned away to sit down in the corner. Hobson continued,

“No, not yet, old fellow. Come back here. Something I need you to do for me first.”

I had stopped protesting, giving it up as futile. I could hardly speak anyway, I was practically gasping for breath and my heart felt as it was going to pound right out of my chest. It was time for some very quick thinking. OK, Hobson was going to whip me. I couldn’t even begin to control him, that was obvious. So I would have to take it. Yes, it might be all right. In fact, it could even be a delicious fantasy come true. As long as he didn’t overdo it. But it was one thing for Ralph to punish me in his inept way, when even if it did get too bad I could at least try to take over again and make him stop instantly. Dealing with Hobson was going to be another matter entirely. And with Ralph completely under Hobson’s control, I had absolutely no options left. I would have to take whatever was coming to me.

Hobson was talking again.

“Ralph, you’d better take her skirt off and get her panties down. I want to see my target.”

I nearly fainted with emotion. I had never even remotely imagined a scenario like this. Hobson, practically a stranger, about to take the most incredibly intimate liberties with me in my own house, with my husband a passive bystander.

“Yes, Peter, of course.” Looking stupefied, Ralph came up to me and stared blankly into my eyes. Then his face lit up with animation and he grinned at me. It wasn’t Ralph. I mean, it was Ralph’s body, but it was Hobson’s mind, controlling him and experiencing his every sensation. I had to get control of the situation. All I could do was to get ahead of it, to own it, to act as if I was acquiescing.

“All right, yes, it’s OK. You may punish me, Ralph.” I nearly said Hobson. That would have been a mistake; I didn’t want him to know how clearly I understood the situation. And the unthinkable possibilities of what could happen next. “I give you permission. You can undress me and whip me.” For fear of giving Hobson ideas, I didn’t add, “But that’s all, understood?”

Without a word, Ralph/Hobson continued to smile at me. His hands were at my waist. I sucked in my stomach as he unbuckled my belt, then unzipped my skirt at the side and worked it down over my hips. It fell down around my ankles. He grasped the elastic waistband of my panties and began to pull them down.

Stephanie, if you want the erotic thrill of a lifetime, have your husband strip you in front of another man. If you also happen to be chained and tied up at the time, ready for punishment, it does nothing to detract from the experience.

Ralph tugged my panties down toward my knees, but Hobson stopped him.

“That’s enough, that’ll do fine,” said Hobson. “Just down to the top of those incredible boots. All we need is to bare that cute bottom of hers. Now, Ralph,” he added, with mock concern, “Why exactly is your lovely wife being punished this afternoon? I mean, has she offended in some way, or is this just a pleasant weekly routine for you two lovebirds?”

A quick decision. I knew Hobson was controlling Ralph, and I knew he was reading my mind. I therefore knew he was aware not only that I enjoyed these scenarios with Ralph, but that I created them deliberately. But I didn’t know the extent of Hobson’s powers; I didn’t know how much he knew of thoughts. So, I decided to put on a show of protest. Hobson was immediately at my left. Awkwardly turning my head in his direction, I assumed an expression of pure hatred as I pulled hard, but ineffectually, against my restraints.

“You malicious bastard. Don’t you come near me. And don’t even think about touching me with that thing.”

Hobson was laughing. “Oh, I won’t need to come near you, don’t you worry about that. But I might, to use your word, touch you. Yes, just a little, Mrs. Sherwood. See, your husband doesn’t mind, do you, Ralph?”

“No, of course not, Peter. And the punishment -- I don’t know, really. Routine, I guess.”

“Good, very good! I have to tell you, I’m reassured to hear it. You’ve decided to wear the pants at last. And she, as we can both observe very clearly, most definitely is not wearing the pants. Now, go and sit over there. Observe carefully.”

Still smiling, Hobson positioned himself slightly behind me, still over to my left. It hurt to turn my head that much, but I could see him if I looked behind my left arm. With a concentrated effort, he swung the whip back, then brought it forward in a slow sweep. At the last second he gave the handle a sudden jerk, and the sharp crack of the whip coincided with an utterly incredible searing, numbing pain. I yelped involuntarily. I was in a state of surreal consciousness as my buttocks blazed with the stinging smart of that unbelievable blow.

“Feel that, did you, dear? Of course you did. And you love it. You know you can’t conceal that from me. Well, it works out perfectly. Because I love it, too.”

He swung his arm back again, but this time he whipped me briskly in one smooth motion, starting a piercing scream out of me as my bottom glared in burning, insistent pain. I was gasping for breath, writhing in my restraints. I watched helplessly as Hobson prepared to deliver another stinging lash.

Steph, it was delicious, wonderfully exciting, absolutely thrilling. I suppose you have to be into it the way I am to truly appreciate it, but being stripped, bound, and punished by a man is the most incredibly erotic sexual turn-on there can be. As far as I was concerned, Ralph could get to the intimate part of the agenda just as soon as he wanted. But despite the intense distraction of the whipping, I still had to think. Hobson was controlling Ralph. I had to make sure I took over that control the instant Hobson relinquished it. Otherwise, Ralph would immediately regain full conscious awareness, and I hadn’t yet worked out all the implications of that. It could even drive him into a psychotic state.

And there was something a lot more alarming than that. A whole heck of a lot more. You know how much I like to be punished, even by that obnoxious bastard Peter Hobson. But I would sure as hell draw the line at being raped by him.

The next lash took me completely unawares, I had been so busy with my thoughts I hadn’t prepared myself. My rear end was smarting and stinging like the blazes. Hobson was laughing.

“Just a few more before we proceed to the next stage of the proceedings, Mrs. Sherwood. Goodness, what am I saying? Not Mrs., but Doctor Sherwood. I have to confess, it’s quite a thrill for me to have an encounter like this with the learned Doctor. I’ll be sure to recall it vividly next time I cross-examine you on the witness stand.”

My insides had turned to water. Next stage of the proceedings? Was it going to be rape? Would he dare? Could he possibly think he would get away with it? Ralph had invited him in, that was true, and I was already tied up when he arrived, but I had certainly not given him my permission for any of this --

My thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Hobson drawing back to deliver another tremendous blow to my bottom. I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated on twisting and squirming away from the end of that cruel whip, pulling on the chains and ropes with all my power -- utterly uselessly, of course. To my shame, that searing blow had me sobbing uncontrollably despite all my efforts to remain in control of myself.

“There, that’s done the trick, I think, Ralph. See how I’ve brought a nice little blush to those pert cheeks of hers? Here you go, it’s your turn now.”

Hobson handed Ralph the whip. To my dismay, Ralph was still completely emotionless. I watched in apprehension as he slowly drew the whip back, and flicked it forward with surprising intensity. With a tremendous crack, the lash of that whip instantly engulfed me in an overwhelming maelstrom of stinging hurt. I heard myself screaming. It sounded as if it were coming from somebody else.

I would not have thought it possible, but I had actually had enough at that point. My mouth was dry. I was more or less hanging from the beam, my wrists sore from the restraints. My rear end was on fire with smarting, throbbing pain.

There was no question by then that Hobson was controlling Ralph. And he was doing so with far greater power than ever I could bring to bear. I was in the grip of genuine fear as I contemplated the possibilities. I decidedly did not want any more punishment, and I was going to have to throw myself on their mercy to get them to stop. Sex would have been fine -- I would have welcomed it right then -- provided it was with my husband. No sooner had the awful thought crossed my mind that it might not be with my husband than I saw Ralph put aside the whip and turn to make a gesture to Hobson, as if to hand over to him again. A bolt of heart-stopping fear thrilled through me at the thought of what was about to happen -- but, to my immense relief, Hobson crossed the room to the stairs, obviously intending to leave.