Divinity Lessons - Volume II

Divinity Lessons: Volume 1I
A collection of female domination-themed stories from Contemplating The Divine By Servitor
Servitor, 2013
Table of Contents
Introduction ...............................................................................................................0 Mistress Valerie and Sandra ...................................................................................... 1 At the third stroke ................................................................................................... 2 Eight out of ten Mistresses say their slaves prefer it .......................................... 3 Medical donation .................................................................................................... 4 Tangible assets ........................................................................................................ 5 Idiom ....................................................................................................................... 6 If at first you dont succeed .................................................................................... 7 The elves and the dominatrices .............................................................................. 8 Take me to your Mistress ..................................................................................... 14 Rewards and penalties.......................................................................................... 17 Miscellaneous stories ............................................................................................... 19 The only thing worse ............................................................................................20 Love and marriage ................................................................................................ 24 Code-talkers .......................................................................................................... 27 Locked ...................................................................................................................30 Burial plot ............................................................................................................. 44 Lines of responsibility .......................................................................................... 45 You cant always get what you want .....................................................................48 Waiting .................................................................................................................. 55 In the morning ..................................................................................................... 60 Well deserving of the cane .................................................................................... 61 Bloggy, femdomy story thing ............................................................................... 65
Introduction
Contemplating the Divine started as a story blog. For several years, I had been writing short stories to amuse a dominant lady whom I had the honour of visiting from time to time, and I thought others might be amused by them too. After the first post or two, though, I tried some captioned images and things really took off. Ive now done about a thousand captioned images. So, a lot of people know Contemplating the Divine as a captions blog, and its even listed in some places for images. Nothing wrong with that, although none of the images are mine in any meaningful sense. But I thought it might be useful to collect the stories I had published on the blog together, as a downloadable PDF. Almost like a real book I was surprised at quite how many stories there were: 130 pages with fifty thousand words. Thats halfway to a PhD thesis but with less social value. I have therefore split the stories into two volumes. The stories are divided into four main sections: In Volume I: Fairy tales and parodies (4 stories) Serena and Alice (4 stories) Mistress Valerie and Sandra (9 stories) Miscellaneous stories (11 stories)
In this volume:
As the disclaimer on the blog says, none of this is intended to be realistic or lifelike in any way. Actually, most are intended to be wildly unrealistic, some poke fun at the clichs and stereotypes in femdom porn and some are just silly. If any of that offends you, you dont have to read them, do you? And similarly if youre offended by things like humiliation, punishments, torture and gratuitous cruelty. But having got this far, you probably are into those things, arent you? I hope you enjoy them. I dont charge anything for any of this, but if you like the stories, do come and say hello in the comments section of my blog. Servitor April 2013
http://contemplatingthedivine.blogspot.com
Divinity Lessons Volume II
Mistress Valerie and Sandra

The Mistress Valerie and Sandra stories were originally written for and star in the lead roles a very special pair of ladies to me. Mistress Valerie was the first domme I ever visited, and Sandra was her friend and companion. Mistress Valerie still takes clients, but also has a vanilla business that requires her to advertise on the Internet, so her web presence is now much reduced. Their names have therefore been changed for these stories.
http://www.contemplatingthedivine.blogspot.com
Page 1
At the third stroke

Mistress Valerie strode out of her dungeon carrying a cane, and knocked gently on the door of the next room. Are you going to be ready to go soon? Her friend Sandra stuck a puzzled-looking head around the door. Were not going to leave for an hour yet, surely? It doesnt start until eight. But its nearly seven already Mistress Valerie said. No it isnt Sandra replied. Its not even six oclock yet. She thought for a moment. You do know the clocks went back last night, dont you? I Mistress Valerie began, then stopped. Oh. No, I forgot. she said. So weve got plenty of time. Thats right Sandra replied cheerfully, closing the door again.
And servitor wasnt an hour late Mistress Valerie mused to herself, looking down at the cane in her hand. She swished it back and forth a few times, thoughtfully. Oh well, she said, to no one in particular. I dont suppose it did him any long term harm. Ive started so I might as well finish. And, cane at the ready, she strode back into the dungeon.
Page 2
Eight out of ten Mistresses say their slaves prefer it

Well have to try that again some time! Mistress Valerie chuckled to her friend Sandra, watching through the window as Servitors taxi headed off towards the station. Even Servitors not dopey enough to fall for it twice. her friend smiled. He got so stressed though! I thought he was going to have a heart attack at one point he went purple. It was like he wanted it, but he didnt want it. Subs are like that Mistress Valerie said absently. Especially humiliation sluts like Servitor. Fantasizes about being made to eat cat food, but then he cant really do it. He did try to open his mouth for it Sandra said. Though Im not sure you could have got it in, he was quivering so much. I should have just gone for it and shoved the spoonful in Mistress Valerie mused. But I was savouring the moment and that gave him too much time to think and all of a sudden it was oh Mistress, amber, no red Mistress! Bloody safewords, always spoiling the fun. It was pretty horrible stuff. her friend pointed out. Even later on, after youd admitted it was ordinary mince with a Kittycat label put on it, it still took him a while to get it all down. Yes it was really nasty, wasnt it? Mistress Valerie agreed, wrinkling Her pretty nose. I dont see how they can get away with selling it. All fat and gristleand the smell! Its a good job you didnt buy that value range stuff they sell that must be fucking disgusting. We should try it on other slaves Sandra giggled. It was brilliant. And you made it look so convincing how did you manage to get the label on so firmly and neatly? I didnt. I thought you were going to swap the labels? Mistress Valerie replied in puzzlement. The two Ladies looked at one another for a moment in surprise, and then burst out laughing and went into the living room to watch TV.
Page 3
Medical donation
You look ever so good in that nurses uniform Sandra said admiringly. Mistress Valerie smiled modestly. Well, its practical as well as shapely she giggled. After all, theres bound to be rather a lot of blood and stuff when we get started, and thats just what this is designed for. Her friend looked at her in surprise. Were not really going to do it, are we? I thought it was just a scare-Servitor fantasy. Oh come on Mistress Valerie grumbled. Ive always wanted to try this. I bought the scalpels and things specially. Sandra still looked dubious.
Its only Servitor! Mistress Valerie declared, in exasperation. Whats the problem? Well its just Her friend replied, looking worried. Just a bitnonconsensual. Ah no! No, its not! Mistress Valerie replied excitedly. Look I found that during his last session, while I was taking all the money out of his wallet. See? With a sense of triumph She handed Sandra a small, slightly grubby rectangle of cardboard. An organ donation card. Sandra said slowly, reading it. Well, perhaps No perhaps about it. Servitor wants to donate his organs, and we wa nt to remove some of them, so its all perfectly consensual! Mistress Valerie declared decisively. Come on help me strap him down before he regains consciousness.
Page 4
Tangible assets
Its the tax inspectors Sandra explained, looking worried. Mistress Valerie eyed the phone grimly. Can you handle it? She whispered. Sandra rolled her eyes and spoke into the receiver. Im afraid the proprietor isnt here right now. Im the company secretary for DommeValerie Ltd. Can I help? Mistress Valerie fidgeted nervously, as her friend talked to the taxman on the phone, while calling up copies of their company accounts on the screen in front of her. Yes, thats right, its the first time weve filed returns. Oh thank, you. Well you know, we just read all the leaflets and tried to do it as best we could. Your web sites quite helpful. OKOKis it? Yes, OK. Well, let me check that and get back to you. She put the phone down. Are they saying that female domination services isnt a legitimate business activity? Mistress Valerie exploded angrily. Because you can tell them, I checked the law and But her friend cut her off, shushing her gently. Well did we leave something out? Mistress Valerie asked grumpily. Not at all Sandra replied. In fact, he was quite complimentary about how complete our filing was. Its just an item in this table that he doesnt understand. She pointed up at her screen. Company assets: fixed and movable property owned wholly or partially by the designated enterprise it read, at th e top of a large table of items with valuations attached. Mistress Valerie peered at the screen. Well I just tried to list everything we own that gets used in the business. The more you put in, the more tax relief you can claim. Whats he challenging? Is it all the dungeon equipment? It does say in the forms that you have to put down the function the assets play in the running of the business, and if those little creeps cant handle an honest description of the uses to which I - Once again her friend cut her off, shaking her head and pointing, with an elegant finger, to an item about halfway down the table. Item: Servitor. Mistress Valerie read out. Wholly owned by DommeValerie Ltd. Purpose: cleaning services for business premises. Valuation: 50 Mistress Valerie smiled. Well, maybe that is going a bit far. She agreed. All right, Im not going to get into an argument with them. Well take him out. Sandra nodded and reached for the phone. Mistress Valerie headed back out onto the landing, where without breaking step she delivered a sudden kick to the figure in maids uniform who was polishing the banister, before heading downstairs. Not even tax-deductable, you useless little bastard! she snapped, without looking back.
Page 5
Idiom
Well he should choose his words with more care, then, shouldnt he? Mistress Valerie complained. What did he think Id do, when he said he would crawl across broken glass for me? Ill get a mop sighed Sandra.
Page 6
If at first you dont succeed

The heavy paddle swept down and forward in a smooth movement and CRACK impacted the bright red bottom bent tightly over the desk. Twenty-three Mistress Valerie intoned firmly, over the shrieks of the firmly -tied target. He himself had long since stopped counting and thanking, and with a faint muffle caused by the thin panties covering his face, had passed through begging for mercy and was now capable only of crying hysterically and continuously. Mistress Valerie drew the paddle back again and WHACK! Thats twenty-four! she pronounced above the sobs. She strode around to the pantied head, noting the small puddle of tears on the floor with some disgust. Now let that be a lesson to you, Servitor! she intoned, and stood frozen in silent triumph over her victim for a while. AndCUT came a voice. Mistress Valerie relaxed her pose and grimaced. How was that? she asked worriedly. Was the lighting all right? Yeee-es Sandra said slowly, an elegant finger working the touchpad on a laptop wired up to all the video equipment. But Im a bit worried about that siren that went past four minutes inhang on. As Sandra listened intently to Her earpiece, Mistress Valerie leant back against the wall, arms crossed. She gazed at the shaking, sweating Servitor with revulsion, and tried not to think that this sort of moment was just what cigarettes had been invented for. She had given up just six weeks earlier. No Sandra said resignedly, shaking her head. It just messes up the whole of strokes thirteen and fourteen. Wed better take it again from the top. Mistress Valerie swore under her breath and stepped forward to pick up the paddle again. There was a moan from below. She glanced down in irritation. Oh do be quiet Servitor. You wanted to be in a video and now you are. I take my work very seriously; the least you can do is try to behave reasonably professionally. She composed her features, hefted the paddle, then nodded at her friend. Twenty-four strokes with the paddle, Take Nine. called Sandra. AndAction!
Page 7
The elves and the dominatrices

I suppose this could also be classified with fairy tales in the other volume. But it stars our beloved heroines, albeit in an even more unrealistic setting than usual, so I am putting it here. Once upon a time, there lived two ladies, and their names were Mistress Valerie and Sandra. They were very poor. Mistress Valerie worked all day, whipping and torturing men in the town prison. But no matter how many backs she lashed, no matter how many thumbs she crushed, it never seemed to bring in enough money. Poor Sandra sat at home, doing the accounts, and dreamed of having enough money to buy a new pair of shoes every day. But they were so poor, that Sandra got only one new pair a year a present from Mistress Valerie for her birthday. And Mistress Valerie never drank Champagne, which she loved with a passion exceeded only by her love for Sandra.
Mistress Valerie loved her job at the prison. But it tired her out. Bastinado sessions, for example, rarely lasted less than two hours and her arm would ache terribly afterwards.
Page 8
Divinity Lessons Volume II One year, for Sandras birthday, Mistress Valerie could not even afford to buy her one pair of shoes. So instead, she bought the finest red leather her scant pennies could afford, determined to make a pair of shoes as best she could. She took the leather home and got needle and thread all ready, then sat down with a cup of tea, before starting her nights work. But Mistress Valerie had dealt with too many stubborn men that day, and her arms were tired and her eyelids were heavy. So as she sat there in front of the warming fire, she closed her eyes with the intention of snatching no more than five minutes rest before starting to sew. But soon her head lolled to one side, and she was fast asleep. She woke with a start to the sight of early-morning sunlight streaming in through the window, and the sound of birdsong. She jumped to her feet, horrified that Sandras birthday had come and she had slept all the way through the night she had set aside for making a present. Sandra came dancing into the room, and Mistress Valerie felt she couldnt meet her eyes to tell her that there was no present this year. So she looked down instead and there to her amazement on Sandras feet were the most wonderful shoes. Obviously new, the shoes were of the same bright red leather as Mistress Valerie had bought the day before. But where had they come from? She looked up at her friend in surprise. Theyre the best birthday present ever! Sandra pronounced, twirling and admiring her feet. And very dainty they looked too, the arches set off beautifully with small flowers artfully carved from the leather itself. Mistress Valerie looked over to the table where she had laid out the things the night before. They were gone except for one small item, apparently made of the same material as Sandras new shoes. Not sure about that thing, though. Sandra said, looking puzzled. Does it go with the shoes? No Mistress Valerie replied, looking at it carefully. Its something for a boy. Sandra looked blank. She had very little to do with boys, except for occasionally helping out at the prison when things were exceptionally busy. Iterrrcame with the shoes. Dont worry about it. Mistress Valerie said firmly, and swept it off the table into her handbag. After celebrating a birthday breakfast with her friend, Mistress Valerie headed into town. Once out of sight of the cottage, she opened her handbag and took out the red leather object. She turned it over and over in her hands, studying it carefully. Like the shoes, it was beautifully made. And like the shoes, too, it used no materials except the thinnest scraps of red leather and the thread that Mistress Valerie had laid out. It had been made from the same material sure enough. She had recognized it immediately. It was a cock-harness, but like none she had ever seen before. Despite the shortage of materials, it looked strong, its straps coming together neatly in a loop allowing it to be secured in a position in which artfully contrived little leather spikes would dig gently but firmly into soft male flesh. Mistress Valerie had a brainwave. She headed for the richest house in the village, and knocked confidently on the door. A servant appeared and tried to shoo her away but Mistress Valerie calmly gave her the device and instructed her to show it to her Mistress. It wasnt long before the lady of the house appeared, delighted and welcoming. Clever Mistress Valerie knew very well that this lady had a teenage son,
Page 9
Divinity Lessons Volume II and she also knew that she was too soft-hearted to whip him enough to stop him playing with himself. The foolish rich lady was in a quandary, on the one hand not wanting her son to engage in such vile practices, but on the other too tender-hearted to apply the daily beatings necessary to ensure that he learnt not to do so. The cock restraint was the answer to her prayers, and she asked Mistress Valerie excitedly where she had got it. Mistress Valerie would not say, so pressing three gold coins into her hand, the kind-hearted lady bade her farewell, and disappeared to place the cock restraint on her spoiled son. Mistress Valerie chuckled as she walked along, jingling the coins in her hand. She was about to go to the wine merchant and buy the biggest bottle of Champagne she could carry when, passing the leather stall from which she had bought the red leather the day before, she had an idea. Firmly putting away dreams of Champagne, she bought twice as much of the very finest black leather, as she had bought of red leather the day before, and some tassels and spikes of shiny chrome with the money left over. That night Mistress Valerie set out the materials on the table, and settled down in the same armchair to see what would happen. But the days celebration with Sandra had tired her out, and quickly she nodded off again and was soon sleeping deeply. When she awoke she was disappointed to see that once again she had slept right through to dawn. But her disappointment turned to joy when, in the morning sunlight, she saw what was on the kitchen table. A pair of the finest high-heeled boots stood there, along with a smaller pair of black patent shoes, and a soft leather strap. When Sandra saw the shoes, she could not keep her hands off them and was soon coo-ing delightedly over the fine stitching and graceful design. But she stopped when she saw the boots and the leather strap. Notreally my thing she began, but Mistress Valerie simply whisked them away. Just samples she said brightly, and headed off towards town again. That evening, one of the Lady Mayors daughters was strutting round delightedly in leather boots, while the assistant boy in the grocery store was stacking shelves faster than he had ever done in his life, as his boss stood approvingly nearby, the leather strap dangling elegantly from her hand. And Mistress Valerie was sipping Champagne, while gazing happily at an expanse of purple leather, shiny metal eyeholes and diamante studs on the table. And so it went on. Each day, Mistress Valerie would buy leather and other materials for shoes, and each morning there would be a pair of shoes for Sandra and several other pairs or other valuable items for sale. Sandra was soon let into the secret and she delighted in trying to catch out the mysterious shoemakers by buying odd materials or pieces of inconvenient shape. But the secret people who made the shoes each night could always conjure up something stunning for her to wear on her feet, and every day seemed to bring shoes that were more thrilling, more stylish and more gorgeous than the last. The ladies had never been happier. The townspeople were happy too. The ladies of the town strutted round in the finest fetishwear, while the men found themselves excited by their partners clothing but increasingly restricted, controlled and tortured by the magic shoemakers creations. Even the King and Queen had heard about the amazing leatherwork from this little town. Mistress Valerie had proudly presented the royal household with a stunning green leather harness, which the King would wear when pulling the royal
Page 10
Divinity Lessons Volume II carriage around, to the accompaniment of merry cracks from a whip Mistress Valerie had presented to the Queen in person.
Newly rich from sale of the fine fetish gear, Mistress Valerie bought herself a beautiful fur coat. But she was careful to keep it hidden from Sandra, who disapproved of fur because she thought it cruel.
Yet still, neither lady had ever seen the mysterious creators of the amazing leather products. They had each tried to sit up all night, but each had been defeated by drowsiness, and the end result was always the same: daylight streaming through the kitchen window, illuminating a pile of elegant fetishwear, dainty shoes and ingenious bondage devices. Yet the makers were nowhere to be seen. One day Mistress Valerie came home with a large bucket and a brush. Whats that? Sandra asked, looking at the creamy liquid in the bucket and wondering - not for the first time - what exactly her friend got up to with the prisoners. Bird-catcher Mistress Valerie replied, curtly. Like quicklime, it makes birds feet stick to the branch. But its stickier than quicklime. Plus and she painted a line on the table, which merely glistened faintly in the light its almost invisible. Are you expecting them to get their fingers stuck? Sandra asked in confusion, but her friend just shook her head, muttering something about having a theory, and proceeded to paint all over the table top. The two ladies went to bed, wondering if this night the longstanding mystery would finally be solved. When they came down the next morning, for the first time in months the sight that greeted their eyes was not a neat pile of fetish items and a pair of stunning shoes. Instead, the materials sat there untouched. But just in from the edge of the table stood two tiny naked men, each no higher than a pepperpot. They made little squeaking sounds, as the two ladies approached. Their feet were obviously stuck. Goodness Mistress Valerie said, wondering, as she leaned down to take a close look at one of the little men. Are they elves, would you say? Or pixies? Sandra agreed, reaching out a fi nger and gently flicking at one of the small figures. It made another squeaking sound, more urgently this time. Both ladies giggled. Oh how sweet! Mistress Valerie declared, and drew her index finger firmly back before flicking it hard with a release of the thumb, to catch her little man right between the legs. This time the squeaking and screeching hit a
Page 11
Divinity Lessons Volume II pitch almost too high to hear, before cutting off abruptly as Mistress Valerie gently folded her thumb and finger over the little mans face. So you are the boys who have been making all this stuff? Mistress Valerie said, half to herself in wonderment. The other boy - who was not being smothered - nodded urgently. And made all those fabulous shoes. smiled Sandra. At this, the little man smiled too, and gave a small and graceful bow, although he nearly toppled when coming back up as his feet were still firmly stuck to the table. Mistress Valerie released her grip on the other, who swayed wildly, breathing frantically. Well. she said. From now on, youre both going to work a lot harder. And they did. Under Mistress Valeries firm direction, the two little men no longer simply worked through the eight hours of the night, but instead worked fourteen hours a day, in two shifts each. Their first task was to fashion a more delicate set of items than even they had ever produced before as to Mistress Valeries exacting specifications they turned out sets of harnesses, straps, whips and collars all just one-thirtieth of normal size. By applying these, Mistress Valerie found that not only could the little men be made to work longer hours, they would work so much harder that production was three times what it had been before. And they made such sweet little squeaking noises whenever they were whipped, too! And so Mistress Valerie and Sandra became very rich. Sandra had a new pair of shoes every day and Mistress Valerie had daily deliveries of Champagne. They lived in a fine town-house in the smartest quarter of town, with its own wine cellars and dungeons and were driven around everywhere in a coach pulled by six fine young gelded men. But they never forgot that they had once been poor, and they never forgot the source of the fortune that had brought them these pleasures.
The ladies had everything they wanted - and more boys than they knew what to do with!
Page 12
So once a year, on Sandras birthday, they would buy none of the material on which their tiny slaves usually labored the long day through. Instead they would paint the table with bird-catching glue, stick their two tiny workers in convenient positions and ready some needles on the fire until they glowed red-hot. And the night air would fill with high pitched screams and gasps, as the little men were reminded, once more, who their boss was and why it was so important so very, very important - to keep her happy. And they all lived happily ever after. Except the boys, of course. And the elves (unless they were, in fact, pixies).
Did you make your quota this week? No?
Page 13
Take me to your Mistress

An extremely silly science fiction story, for those who like that sort of thing.
Wheres Servitor? Mistress Valerie asked. Sandra looked up from the picnic table where she was heating water for some tea. I sent him over the ridge to the stream to wash up the dishes she replied, nodding towards a rise in the ground just beyond the field where they had eaten lunch. Just as she spoke, there was an eerie wail and a whoosh, and the far side of the ridge lit up with a blue flash, accompanied by green beams of light stabbing up into the sky. Mistress Valerie looked worried. That sounds like an unusually severe fuck -up even by Servitors standards She said. Id better go and take a look. She took a riding crop, in case Servitor needed some help getting on with his work, and set off towards the disturbance.
Page 14
Divinity Lessons Volume II As she scrambled over the top of the ridge, an extraordinary sight met her eyes. Instead of seeing Servitor diligently scrubbing plates and forks in the little brook at the bottom, she saw what could only be described as a flying saucer. Green, about 20 metres across and pulsing with energy, it had a ramp extended down to the ground. Near the bottom of this ramp lay Servitor, stark naked (as he had been before, to be fair) and writhing helplessly (which on this occasion he had not been, at least not yet). Standing over him was the strangest sight of all a grey humanoid creature, with a huge bulbous head from which tentacles emerged curling over and down from its mouth. It had two pairs of dark, intelligent, human-looking eyes above a gill-like arrangement on its cheeks. It was looking down at Servitor, and prodding him with its tail. Mistress Valerie strode down towards it. Oi! Leave that alone its mine. she ordered, riding crop at the ready. The creature looked up at the new arrival and made a strange whiffling noise. Ah, another puny human creature! it boomed. Have you come to challenge me, earthling? You cannot harm me, a telepathic immortal of superior intellect and power of which you cannot conceive! Surrender now. I dont think so Mistress Valerie replied, casually. Now I told you thats mine and I want you to leave it alone. She flexed the riding crop menacingly. The creature whiffled its laugh again. My technology is so far b eyond your silly little stick-weapon as to be beyond your comprehension, earthling! it declared contemptuously. See how I inflict agony on this ally of yours with just the power of my mind! And its forehead wrinkled, light enveloped the struggling Servitor and he instantly flung his limbs out in all directions, threw back his head and screamed in agony. The creature watched approvingly for a few seconds, then nodded and the light faded to nothing, leaving Servitor to collapse in a shuddering heap. Yeah but he loves it really. Mistress Valerie said calmly, gazing down at the sobbing form. Ive seen it before hamming it up. He gets all turned on thinking about it afterwards. Does he? the alien replied, uncertainly, suddenly no longer quite so confident. It looked down at Servitor carefully. So he does. How very unusual. Are there many like him on your planet? Oh, not that many. Mistress Valerie smiled. But enough to pay the mortgage, you know? The creature looked confused. Then it seemed to rally itself, and straightened up decisively. Still it boomed, louder than ever the time has come, earthling, for you and all your kind to surrender to the power of Did you say telepathic? Mistress Valerie inquired, casually. The alien looked back at Her. Errryes, telepathic. it said. You can look into peoples minds and read their thoughts? Mistress Valerie prompted. I can it said proudly, drawing itself up a little higher.
Page 15
Divinity Lessons Volume II Mistress Valerie took a step forward, almost touching the frontal fronds of the strange creature. She fixed its eyes with a level stare. Look into mine!, She whispered. The creature stared back into her amber eyes, its forehead wrinkled and its own eyes assumed a slightly faraway look. It seemed a little puzzled at first, then a look of pure terror swept across its face. Its eyes snapped back to reality, and met Mistress Valeries cool stare again for half a second more. Then with a high -pitched whimper of fear and a flurry of tentacles, it disappeared up into the spaceship, which lurched off the ground with a whine of engines, and hurled itself into the sky with indecent haste. Mistress Valerie gazed up at the fast-disappearing dot. I think I just saved the world she mused. They should put up a statue to me. She looked down to the ground, where Servitor was burbling something grovelly about always wanting to put up a statue to her, and was also trying to kiss her boot. She moved away with distaste and kicked him gently in the face. Come on Servitor cant just laze around there all day. She announced. Get on with your work, or youll be getting a taste of my crop. And she cracked it down across his naked flesh, just for emphasis. She looked with approval at the angry red welt that instantly appeared. Silly little stick-weapon indeed! She snorted. Some creatures just dont appreciate good old-fashioned craftsmanship. And as Servitor limped slowly back towards the washing up, she set off back up the ridge to see if the tea was ready. My apologies for the way the picture does not in any way match the story, except being a dominant woman in a SF setting. But I just had to include it...fondly remembering when as a teenager, I was delightfully surprised when the divine Rachel Welch transformed an episode (actually two episodes) of Mork and Mindy into...a formative experience for this young pervert.
Page 16
Rewards and penalties

The real Sandra loved this story, which is really about her Servitor reached out eagerly for the steaming coffee. Thatll be one forty-nine, the young barrista behind the counter said, brightly. Do you have a loyalty card? Servitor looked straight back into her eyes as he handed her the money. No, I dont have a loyalty card but I do have a ridiculously small penis that I like to stroke until it squirts into my pants. The girl froze in the act of taking his money, carefully transferred it to the till and turned her whole body to face the next customer, without a word. Servitor grabbed the coffee and almost ran from the coffee shop in horror, feeling the shocked and amused stares drilling into the back of his neck, his down-turned face burning with humiliation. He walked rapidly down the street, slowing to a normal pace only when he was almost half a mile away from the scene of the catastrophe. What had he said? How was that possible? He felt sick and shaky. If he were still a drinker, he told himself, this would be a double vodka moment. As it was, he gratefully saw a Boots Chemists sign ahead and went in to buy some aspirin. Do you have a Boots advantage card? the middle-aged lady at the check-out asked him. No.he heard himself say, with growing horror. But I do like to take advantage of my little cock by wanking until its sore. This time he didnt even pick up his purchase: as soon as the words were out of Servitors mouth, he was pushing past the stunned customers and heading straight for the door. Out on the street, Servitor panicked. Loyalty card? As he thought that, the words sweaty little cock jumped into his brain. Loyalty card. (tiny prick). Something about those words, about saying loy-the L word. Or anything like it, remembering the Boots experience. (Frequent flyer? Frequently wank myself silly). He mustnt even think it. Where could he shop? He had to go places where they didnt have a loya- a - a programme for rewarding customers. There was a corner shop just ahead, and steeling his nerves, he went in and bought bread and a few tins of food. He marched up to the counter, heart thumping. Four-fifty,the man behind the counter said, not looking at him. Servitor held out a fiver with shaking hands and clenched his teeth tight shut. The shopkeeper pulled at the note, and looked up in confusion as Servitors fingers held it tight. Sorry Servitor said, and released it. He walked out in triumph. No mention ofrebate programmesand no problem. Well, he wouldnt starve. He couldnt face the Tube, so he took a cab home, thinking furiously of all the things he normally bought and whether the shops selling them had discount
Page 17
Divinity Lessons Volume II schemes. It should be do-able, maybe it would wear off soon anyway, he thought wearily. The cab pulled up outside his house and the driver drew the little window back. Do you need a receipt mate? he called cheerily. No, I dont need a receipt. Servitor heard himself saying. But I do need my naughty bottom spanked very hard for not buying Ms Sandra a Christmas present. *** In a different town, in a different county, Mistress Valerie was tidying her toy cupboard. She picked up a box, rifled inside it and frowned. You havent been fiddling with my hypnotic suggestion tapes, have you? She called. Ms Sandra leaned round the door. Me? She replied, innocently. Why would I do that?
Page 18
Miscellaneous stories
This is the excitingly named section for those stories that dont fit into any of the three categories listed so far in Volume I and in this volume! I expect you wouldnt have guessed that if I hadnt told you. Would you?
Page 19
The only thing worse

What could be worse than being locked up in chastity? The answer, surprisingly enough, is not being locked in chastity. This is a bit Serena and Alice-ishI think those Ladies were already in my mind, and scheming to emerge onto the printed page, when I wrote it. But its Sabrina and Amy insteadand a lot less violent.
So what sort of belt are you using these days? Amy enquired, glancing casually at the man waiting outside the caf, rather weighed down with the shopping bags he was holding. CB6000? Tickleberry? Oh, I dont keep him in a belt any more. Sabrina replied. Ooooh! Have you had him cut? Amy asked with interest and some relish. Her friend looked up at her. Certainly not. Where would I kick him if there wasnt anything left down there? Amy was confused. But I thought you didnt allow him to come? Ever? I dont Sabrina replied. Its against my house rules and he knows it. She laughed, then took pity on her bemused friend. Im just teasing you. I had him fitted with a detector. Its a little chip that goes under his skin. It monitors whats going on, and reports it. Reports it where? Amy asked. Its a web-based application that I can access from anywhere her friend replied. Look. She pulled out her Blackberry, pressed a few keys, then passed it across the table. It displayed some numbers, along with a large green rectangle labelled flaccid and
Page 20
Divinity Lessons Volume II various links to other pages. Sabrina scrolled it down, and showed her friend the field that reported Last orgasm: 18th January 2011, 10.54. I can access all of the history at any time she said, showing Amy some scrolling sets of numbers. And Ive got it set up so that if he does have an orgasm, I get a text message immediately. And it updates in real time? Amy asked, enviously. Sure her friend replied. BOY! The man started in shock, then scurried in past the amused looks from the other tables at his rapid response to the preremptory command. Sit down Sabrina ordered, curtly, and with a worried expression on his face, he arranged the shopping bags on the floor and gingerly lowered himself into his seat. Ive been telling Amy about our new approach to keeping your chastity she said. How theres really nothing to stop you gettingexcited any more. Nothing except the thought of my cane. She leaned over towards him, and gazed into his eyes. Nothing except that wicked canefor a verynaughtyboy and her booted foot slowly began to caress his inner leg. Do you find it very frustrating? Amy asked, her eyes wide and sympathetic. Only and here she leaned forwards and smiled sympathetically. Only I find my man gets so very frustrated in his chastity belt. Especially when I ask him to help me get undressed. She eased back her top, to expose a lacy bra strap on her shoulder. .or to massage me with oil she breathed. And you spank him too, dont you? Sabrina asked, innocently. Oh yes Amy breathed heavily, her eyes widening. Yes, I spank him vigorously! I get my hairbrush, and I put him across my thighs and she swivelled in her chair these thighs and she took hold of the mans unresisting face, and directed attention down to where her thighs were visible between the top of her leather boots and the hem of her tight skirt. Sabrina picked up the Blackberry and giggled. See? she said, holding it out to her friend. The rectangle was now bright red and contained the words Fully erect. In fact, the technology wasnt really necessary for that, as the swelling was very clearly visible in the trousered lap in front of them. Sabrina gently laid her hand on top of the straining material. Amy noted with interest that several numbers on the Blackberry changed instantly, and a small exclamation mark began to flash. Sabrina patted the mound gently and smiled. A very excited boy. Arent we? Right here. She patted ag ain. Yes, Mistress Sabrina the unhappy man replied, hoarsely. Yes very excited. She patted the mound again. But you wont do anything about it, will you?
Page 21
Divinity Lessons Volume II No Mistress Sabrina, its against the rules. Whose rules? Sabrina asked, sharply. Your rules, Mistress Sabrina. And what happens to boys who break that particular rule? Hmmm? She was holding her hand flat, palm down over the bulge now, which was pushing urgently against it. They get the cane, Mistress Sabrina. How many do you give him? Amy asked with interest. Sabrina smiled and nodded at the man. Two extra each time, Miss Amy he replied. So you? Amy started, in puzzlement. He started with six Sabrina replied, in a matter of fact way, taking her hand away from the bulge, which quivered slightly. And it goes up by two each time. Hes disobeyed me nine times since the belt came off, so now its 24 each time. Amy was impressed. She had seen Sabrina disciplining her men on a few occasions. 24 with a cane was no joke, and would probably leave the miscreant barely able to walk. And its going to continue to go up? she asked. Sabrina looked a little shocked. Certainly not! she replied, primly. Its going to stay at 24 because hes never going to be disobedient again. Thats what you told me after the last beating, isnt it boy? Yes, Mistress Sabrina. You finally learnt your lesson, didnt you, when I gave you those 24? Yes, Mistress Sabrina. Sabrina waited in silence, but something about her look conveyed menace. Errthank you for teaching me such a valuable lesson, Mistress Sabrina! he gasped, hurriedly. Sabrina looked somewhat mollified. But if here were to have a littleslip she remarked, knowingly. Or maybe even an accidentthen yes we would need to take an even firmer approach to the problem. What if he has an involuntary emission in the night for example? Amy asked. Still beat him Sabrina remarked casually. He might be lying about it, and its better to be safe than sorry. Anyway, I think the cane should start to work on his unconscious mind too. She smiled at the man, who was obviously trying to think calming, unsexy thoughts a difficult task in present company. But you worked it out, didnt you? What would happen if you hadsayone slip per year. Just one little slip in every 365 days. In twenty years time, youd be getting?
Page 22
Divinity Lessons Volume II 64 each time, Mistress Sabrina he replied, with an unhappy quaver in his voice. And over those twenty years, youd have had? Nine hundred strokes, Mistress Sabrina. Nine hundred strokes. She replied with satisfaction. So its worth exercising some self-control, isnt it? Because if its oooh, as much twice each year, then in 20 years time that will be? One hundred and four strokes a time, and two thousand six hundred str okes over the whole time, Mistress Sabrina. he breathed. Thats right she replied with satisfaction. So you keep it quiet down there. Shoo, now! And the unhappy looking man got up and with some apparent difficulty slowly walked back to his post outside the caf.
Page 23
Love and marriage

Rather an unpleasant little tale, Im afraid. Sorry about that its just how my mind works.
That? Oh yes, Id forgotten you havent been here since I had that put in. Dont you recognise it? Its George you know, my husband! Well, whats left of him. Oh yes, hes still my husband. Were just waiting for the divorce papers to come through. Thats why I had him fixed there, to remind me. It is clever, isnt it? Yes, they were able to amputate the arms and legs all t he way up to the joints. Because I was afraid that theyd leave little stumps or something, and hed be able to waggle them a bit. Wouldnt that be disgusting? But no, theyve done it very neatly. Just a torso. Perfect.
Page 24
Divinity Lessons Volume II No, he cant move his neck either. The doctors attached a steel bar running right down his spine, you see, and it goes all the way into his skull. He cant move nod or turn his head at all not even a millimetre. And his jaws wired up, of course. Sorry about the silly little grin, but they needed to keep it a little open, for feeding purposes. But they removed his teeth and his tongue, of course. And his vocal chords. Hmmm? Oh trust you to notice that! Yes, I did decide to leave them on. Of course, I was really tempted to have him castrated they even said I could do it myself. But I thought it might be more fun if they were still there, you know? I do enjoy playing with them, after all. Its amazing how well theyve lasted really, after all Ive done to them. They can take a lot more punishment than you think, actually. Ive even set them on fire a few times, but there are still some nerve endings left. Look Ill show you. There! See how his breathing gets much faster when I push this pin into it? And then if I wiggle it about I yes, you see? Plenty of nerve endings still. Oh yes, I dont think Ill keep him much after the divorce papers come through. Should be any day now. And then maybe Ill just stop feeding and watering him and put him outside by the trash. Unless youd like to? No? I just thought Id offer, seeing as the two of you were an item back in college, thats all. No problem: Ill deal with it. Yes, he can still use his eyes. Apart from his lungs, I suppose they're the only other muscles he can still move. See look at how hes watching us? Oh isnt that sweet? Hes crying. He seemed to have stopped doing that a few weeks back, but maybe seeing you reminds him of his old life or something. Maybe he thinks youll save him? Hard to know what hes thinking really. But I do like him still to be able to see me, so I know hes thinking about what Im doing to him. Ill probably put them out before I finally get rid of him, of course. Hmmm? Oh clever you! No, I suppose he doesnt need both eyes. I hadnt thought of that! Why dont we do one of them right now? I dont suppose you have a cigarette on you, do you? You do? Oh wonderful thatll be perfect. I gave up just over a year ago, you know. But maybe I couldI mean just one wouldnt hurt, would it? And then maybe we could both stub them out at the same time. Shall we do the right or the left, do you think? Mmmm. Oh god, this is wonderful. Id forgotten how much I loved smoking. You shouldnt have let me have it, you naughty girl! Oh never mind, though. Mmmm.lovely. Well, when I finish this one, Ill stub it out, and thatll be that. I think the left onedont you? Its funny, you know. He always disapproved of my smoking. He was so pleased when I gave up. Said watching me stub the last one out was the best day of his life. Didnt you, darling? Well, youll certainly be watching very closely when I stub this one out. Very closely indeed...
Page 25
Page 26
Code-talkers
A mild (for once!) and very silly little joke, pretending to be a story Emily!, Alison squealed with pleasure. Why its beenwell, I dont know! It must be three years didnt we last meet at Jerrys wedding? Her cousin shook her head, laughing. No I couldnt make it. Dont you remember? Mark had messed up that business with the plumbing, and we had a flooded cellar. We had to stay at home to get it sorted out I emailed you all about it. Oh, thats right! Alison replied. Ill bet you gave Mark a right good thra - and she broke off, glancing nervously at the third member of their party, their aged Great Aunt Maggie, who was sitting bright-eyed between the two of them, nodding happily. I mean errr well, you must have had a few stern, errr, wordswith Mark after that one. I certainly did, Emily nodded, grimly. Lots of words three dozen that first time around, and then another session a week later when the plumbers bill arrived. And hows Mark now? Emily enquired casually. When you last emailed me, you said he was playing, errr, playing golf rather too often and you were thinking of putting a stop to it. Her cousin laughed. Oh, he wont be playing golfany more. Well...only when I say so. Ive got his clubs all locked away, safe and sound. But you let him play occasionally? Oh yes. When hes been good. But no more than once a month or so. Just so he doesnt get completely out of practice, you know. Ive heard thatgolf balls have to be used every month or so, otherwise they can get damaged. Never seen the point of golf myself! Great-Aunt Maggie burst in unexpectedly. Just grown-ups playing marbles if you ask me. And snooker thats just as bad. Tennis. I used to like watching tennis. Thats nice Mags, Emily said, encouragingly. Did you watch Wimbledon this year? Great-Aunt Maggie looked puzzled. Im not sure, dear. She replied. Was that nice Mr Borg playing? Im sure he won something, didnt he? ErrrI think that might have been a year or two earlier, Mags Emily said, uncertainly and the three sat in silence for while. So hows David? Alison prompted, after a while. I expect you still keep his golf clubs locked away, mmm? With spikes, if I remember rightly. Oh no Emily giggled. David had the operation Im sure I must have told you about it?
Page 27
Divinity Lessons Volume II Operation, dear? Great-Aunt Maggie butted in, apparently pleased to be on her home turf of ailments and remedies. Yes Mags. I took him in last year to have his errr and she caught her cousins eye - to have his tonsils taken out. Thats good, her Great-Aunt replied. Much better off without them. Oh yes, Emily laughed. Hes a changed man, without any tonsilsany more. Did you get to watch the operation?, Alison asked with interest, as she had been thinking about arranging for Mark to have his tonsils removed too. Oh yes her cousin replied breathlessly. It was great! They strapped him dow I mean, they bandaged him up tightly, and then they let me watch as they removed each of them in turn. They even let me do the final little snip. Gosh, it was so exciting! I had a errr hot flush right there in the operating theatre! So was Mark under anaesthetic?Alison asked, beginning to feel the stirrings of a hot flush herself, and wondering whether Great -Aunt Mags would mind if the two excused themselves and went upstairs to visit their old bedrooms. No not even a local, not if you dont want it her cousin replied, giggling. He made quite a fuss, especially just before the first tonsil came off I mean, out. And they even let me keep the tonsils afterwards she added, casually. Theyre in a little jar in my bedside drawer. How lovely, Emily breathed. So is David much more obedi I mean, is he a bit more co-operative now? Oh yes, her cousin smiled. He does anything I want. And the houseworks all done, spic and span every time. And he also - It was the electric that did that! Great-Aunt Maggie broke in. You what, Mags? The electric. For housework. Made all the difference. Oh, before that it was impossible to get the place clean. Cos before that wed just had gas, and that wasnt the same, not at all. Your Great Uncle Bert liked the gas, but I said, no were moving with the times, Bert, were going electric. That right, Mags?, smiled Alison, indulgently. Ooooh yes. Ill tell you, as soon as we got that electric installed, I said Right Bert, this is how its going to be from now on. This is the future, this is. And he didnt know the first thing about it! He said, whats it do then, Mags? Thats what he said. Didnt he know about electricity then, Mags? Oh no, dear. This was 1938, and he was never very technical, wasnt Bert. So I showed him! I plugged a cable into that socket we only had the one socket when we first got the electric put in and I attached one wire to the tip of his willy, using a hairclip, and shoved the other up his arse and switched it on! Oooh, he found out what it did then! You should have seen him jumping about screaming Switch it off, Mistress, Ill be good Mistress! Never had a moments trouble from him a fter that housework all done, all my meals served in bed and a lovely bit of oral every Sunday morning before church. Oh and when we needed a bit of extra money, to buy a telly for the coronation, it just took one little dose of the electric and he was off giving
Page 28
Divinity Lessons Volume II hand jobs to demobbed soldiers for two bob a time, just to get a bit of extra money in." "Oh, it used to scare the willies out of him, the electric, old Bert! Even worse than the birch. He used to say Oh please Mistress, give me two dozen with the birch instead! Anything but the electric, Mistress! Course, I always gave him double voltage when he tried to argue like that! And Id sit on his face while he was taking it, too! Lovely, that was. Dear me. Happy days. She paused in contented contemplation of times past, as her two great-nieces sat in shocked silence. Anyway, speaking of a bit of oral, dears, Ive got a lovely 24 year -old strapped to my bed upstairs Polish, or Czechyslovenian or one of those places. Doesnt speak a word of English, but he goes like a train and he knows what to do with his tongue when you take a flogger to him. And Ive got a brand -new strap-on thats going to make him squeal a bit too! So Ill leave you young people to natter about your golf and tonsils, and Ill take myself off for an early night and a good hard fuck. See you in the morning, dears. And with that, the ninety-seven year old eased herself up from her chair and slowly hobbled over to where the chairlift was waiting to carry her upstairs, leaving her younger relatives to wonder what else they might have been missing all of these years. THE END
Page 29
Locked
Well, I'll bet no one has ever written a femdom story with that title before! Anyway, here's my take on it. Are you all right, Mrs Taylor? the doctor asked, stepping quickly to the side of the tall blonde lady standing over the hospital bed. Janet nodded dumbly. Yesyes. Im fine. Its just a bit of a shock, thats all. Seeing him like this. I mean, its just as you described it, of course. But somehow its different seeing it for real. The doctor nodded understandingly. Locked-in syndrome takes quite some getting used to, she said. But hes still in there. Its still your husband. Alan, Janet murmured. Yes, its still my Alan in there. But he cant move a muscle? Well the doctor replied. His internal muscles like the heart are all in good working order. And look you see? he can still blink his eyes. Thatll make it a lot easier to look after him no need for eyedroppers to keep the eyeballs moist, you see. But otherwise, no muscular control at all. Yet he can feel everything. Mmmm Janet said, reaching out and gently running her fingertips up the inner thigh of her immobilised husband. And he can see as well? Oh yes the doctor replied. Although of course he cant control what hes actually looking at. But you can move the eyeballs no, here, let me do it. Its best to wear gloves. And she deftly reached out and with a rubber-tipped finger flicked each eyeball round so that Alan was staring right at his wife. The effect was a little uncanny, but Janet forced herself to smile. And you can hear me too, cant you Alan? Every word. She sighed slightly, and reached out again, this time pinching a small roll of Alans flesh between her fingers. Steadily she compressed it, letting her elegant nails dig deeply into the flesh. She watched the tiny buds of blood appear as she gently sawed her nails from side to side, and smiled again in satisfaction. Oh, were going to have such fun when I get you home. she murmured, and put her hand to her mouth to taste the blood. Well, you can take him home whenever you like the doctor shrugged. Everythings fine; hes fully recovered from the operation. Those marks on his wrists and ankles will go away in a few days. Theyre just from where he was struggling when he was restrained. Oh yes! Janet replied. It seems so strange now, seeing him so silent and peaceful like this. The last time I saw him he was thrashing about and screaming and begging so franticallyits a good thing he was so firmly tied down. Yes, well they usually react rather vigorously when theyre told what the operation is really for the doctor replied. I used to prefer them to be anaesthetised,
Page 30
Divinity Lessons Volume II but Im quite used to it now. As long as the head and upper body are held quite firmly, I can operate no matter how much of a fuss theyre making. She turned Alans head, leaving it to flop sideways, the eyes now looking away from them, and showed Janet a small, neat scar on the back of his head, just above the neck. Is it difficult? Janet asked, with interest. Its a bit fiddly, the doctor replied casually. A few years ago, we were just paralysing the whole body, and that was pretty straightforward, just a quick cut through the spinal cord and its done. But tailoring it so that he can still feel, is very delicate work and leaving the eyelids operational is a skilled job. It took over four hours for the whole thing, and he was conscious all the time. Nowadays I rather enjoy the screaming and pleading, so I leave those nerves until last. You dont remember what his last words were, by any chance, do you? Janet enquired. The doctor paused, thinking hard, then shook her head. Im sorry, I really dont. It was mostly just pitiful pleading at that point. Please dont do this. Oh please, please. For pitys sake. That kind of thing. Is it important? Oh no Janet replied. I just wondered. Of course, keeping it reversible adds to the complexity the doctor remarked. We have to tie all the cut ends up neatly, so we could reattach them if need be. Are you likely to want to bring him back? No, not very likely Janet replied. But what I thought I might do are you listening to this Alan? what I thought I might do, is roll two dice every year, on the anniversary of the operation. If he gets a double six, I promise Ill bring him back and he can be fully restored. For a month. Then Ill put him back like this. So youre giving him some hope the doctor nodded. Every year, hell wonder whether hell be able to move and speak again. A one in 36 chance each time. Thats right Janet replied. I wanted to give him a little spark of hope that it wont be forever. Itll make the misery of his existence just that bit harder to bear. She smiled again. Of course, he doesnt have to wait for the dice. If I chose to, I could let him out at any time! I think his chances are probably better with the dice!, the doctor smiled back. But it must be nice to have that control. Total control murmured Janet, and on a whim she turned her husbands head back again so that he was staring at them. His eyes started blinking furiously. "Locked. Aren't you, Alan? And I have the key!"
Page 31
A normal marriage
Can you have a heavy femdom relationship, in which one of the partners does not realise it? Well, obviously not in reality. But in this story, that is exactly what happens. Christopher hurried home through the drizzling rain. It was Friday, and that meant just one thing: making love to his beautiful wife. As so often on the days set aside for sex, she had called him teasingly at the office in the afternoon. Hed hoped that none of the other staff could see him going crimson in his cubicle, as shed outlined some of the things she would be doing to him, and giggling at his stammered, coded responses. His wife, Janice, was beautiful, sexy, intelligent andso creative in the bedroom. Christopher sighed. He knew how lucky he was. Other men would kill to have a wife like that and hed often caught his colleagues looking longingly on the occasions she came into the office, sashaying across the floor with the confidence that only a beautiful woman can muster. Yes, he was very lucky. It was just thathe found that perhaps he didnt always enjoy having sex as much as he had imagined he would. Sometimes, to be honest, he would rather just watch TV. His first time It had started on his wedding night. Christopher had had a very sheltered upbringing. Brought up in an all-female household, and educated at home, he had been carefully shielded from inappropriate and vulgar material. He knew nothing of sex, although he was aware it was something to be experienced only with a wife and where was he to find one, as he never left the house? His mother had therefore been delighted when the niece of an old friend of hers had taken an interest in her lad at the tender age of seventeen, and after a brief courtship they had married two days before his eighteenth birthday. She was eight years older, and when in perhaps the most excruciating conversation of his life Christopher had stammered out that he was still a virgin, and knew nothing of lovemaking, she had simply laughed, taken his hand in hers and told him that she knew precisely what to do. By the time Christopher and his lovely bride reached the bedroom after all the wedding festivities were complete, Christopher was in a state of intense excitement while still almost entirely ignorant of what was supposed to happen. Dont worry she had whispered. Ill just do everything this first time. And she had slipped off her bridal gown, to reveal her lithe young body clad only in sophisticated lingerie in pure, innocent white. And beckoning to her virgin husband, she had gently tugged at his belt until it came free, slipped his trousers down and hooked both thumbs over his shorts before sliding those slowly and deliberately down around his ankles. The she looked up at his panting face, smiled and breathed Over you go and Christopher had felt a hand in the small of his back, pushing firmly, and he found himself lying there, across the warm bare thighs of his bride. She made a few adjustments to his position, stroked him slowly up the inside of the thighs and then the sexual intercourse had begun. Christophers first time. He smiled now to remember how much noise he had made, as the flat of her hand came down first on one cheek, then on the other, cracking down in a steady pace. So this is sexual intercourse?, hed thought to himself. It was a strange sensation. A lot more
Page 32
Divinity Lessons Volume II uncomfortable than hed expected, as his buttocks turned red under the relentless slapping of her palms. By the standards of their later love-making, it had been very mild. She had used only her bare hands throughout, but still Christopher, after an initially brave start, had found himself first wriggling, then bucking about as he tried to keep the tears welling up in his eyes from falling to the floor. He was yet to learn that it was no shame to weep during their trysts indeed these days, it was a rare encounter that did not result in tears. It had seemed like an age across her lap, the blows coming harder and harder and faster and faster, as she also began to pant in rhythm untiljust when he thought he must scream and beg for release from the pain, she began to make some extraordinary gasping noises, then little cries and finally an almost roaring sound of releasethen pushed him hard to fall on the fl oor, and lay back on the bed, panting and murmuring to herself. This, she told him when she had caught her breath, helped him up and they were discussing the extraordinary event that had just occurred, this had been an orgasm. Women had them. Men did not. The culmination of love-making for the woman was the orgasm, while for men it was the bright red, sore bottom that he had just received. She had laughed when he asked nervously whether the orgasm hurt and told him that it was an agony that he could barely begin to conceive of. But in our shared pain my orgasm and your whacked bottom we become one and celebrate our love. she had said. He had always wondered what sex was like. That night he discovered, and was grateful to his lovely wife for teaching him. They had made love twice more that night. On the second time, almost exactly the same thing had happened. Of course, Christophers bottom was already sore when the love-making started, so after just a few strokes he had begun to yelp, and to beg pathetically for mercy. Fortunately, soon after he had started to plead in this way, the panting and gasping had begun it seemed that nature had designed things so that when he was brought more rapidly to a state of agony, her orgasm would come along more quickly. When she had teasingly asked if he was man enough for a third time, he had experienced an uncontrollable sense of fear, and sobbed while being lovingly cuddled in her arms that his poor bottom was in too much pain. So she had introduced him to what she called a hand job. Positioning herself in front of him, she had instructed him to hold his hands out palm upwards and while smiling sweetly into his eyes the whole time, she brought out a short leather strap. Ready? she breathed, and without waiting for a reply swung the strap down hard, making him yelp in pain and surprise. The pain was different in many ways worse but at least it gave his aching bottom a rest. And, as she pointed out afterwards, the advantage of the hand job was that they could make love face to face, staring lovingly into one anothers eyes as she gradually built up the pattern of welts across his palms and lower wrists. After this third bout of love-making, they had gone to sleep, cuddled in one anothers arms. Christopher had been confused and very much in pain but he also felt more in love than ever with this woman, who had introduced him to the sacred mysteries of sex.
Page 33
Divinity Lessons Volume II He just hadnt expected it to hurt so much. Did all men find it that difficult, that painful? Getting used to it He found it almost impossible to talk to any of his friends about sex. But one evening, in the pub, with his oldest and closest friend, he had nervously ventured onto the subject of sex. Janice is he had coughed very active, you know . Very forceful. In bed. His friend had simply congratulated him, in a beery way, and made a rather crude remark about his luck and needing to watch no one else took her away from him. Swallowing his distaste, Christopher had pressed the point. Only he had whispered. I was wondering. After a really hard session.is it normal for me to feel, wella little sore? His friend had stared at him. I mean down there. He whispered urgently. His friend had roared with laughter, and told him that it was perfectly normal to feel sore after a heavy bout of lovemaking, if you were lucky enough to get one. Sometimes, he said, down there could be left so sore it could be sensitive to the touch for days. Christopher had been reassured, as he often found after making love, that his bottom was so bruised that he could hardly bear to sit down for, as his friend rightly said, days at a time. And erwell, about orgasms, you know hed gone on, wondering whether he would ever be able to speak to this person sober again (he could not, it turned out). She, well she usually screams when she, you know and er And you scream as well, Ill bet, you lucky devil. His friend had laughed, digging him painfully in the ribs. Yes, I frequently do. I scream a lot. Hed admitted candidly. Gets you pretty hot down there, does she? his friend had embarrassingly continued, and Christopher had mumbled that yes, indeed, he often felt burning hot during a bout of intercourse and left it at that, mortified at how far the conversation had gone, but reassured that their love-making was normal. A troubling development - and Janice's solution There was one aspect that was not. From the wedding night onwards, the newlyweds had noticed a peculiar development during their lovemaking. Christophers penis had a tendency to go stiff, usually just at the point at which they were about to begin. During the intercourse itself, as the blows came thick and fast, it would usually go down again, but sometimes the stiffness would return soon afterwards when, with reddened bottom and tears in his eyes, he lay beside his panting wife on the bed. He had been summoning the courage to go and talk to a doctor about the little problem, but fortunately one of Janices friends was a nurse and she had been able to raise the issue with her on their return from honeymoon. It seemed quite a number of men were afflicted with this complaint, although it was so embarrassing that it was never discussed in public. Apparently the stiffening was essentially harmless, but Janices friend had said that if it ever progressed to a discharge of milky -looking fluid it was important to take measures, such as suppressing the stiffening by encasing the penis in a metal or plastic tube. Christopher had not liked the sound of a fluid
Page 34
Divinity Lessons Volume II discharge at all, so when Janice had pointed out that the stiffening even if harmless - impaired their lovemaking, by getting in the way when he went over her knee, he had readily agreed, and had been fitted with a medical device that very night. He was relieved to have the thing locked away, as it reminded him of an excruciatingly humiliating conversation on the third night of their marriage, in which his total ignorance of sexual matters had been exposed. He thought he had heard from somewhere that the penis could also be involved in lovemaking (although he had no idea how) and had shyly suggested this to his wife. What you mean the dangly thing you pee out of? she had asked, taken aback. He was hastening to reassure her that he must have misunderstood, and she should forget the idea. But she had shrugged and said that shed try anything once. With some difficulty, he had positioned himself across her lap facing upwards, his penis embarrassingly stiffer than ever. It had taken only the first few spanks across his penis and especially his testicles, to convince him that whatever he had read about the role of these organs in love-making, he had somehow got completely the wrong end of the stick. He had shrieked and pleaded with Janice to stop, but she had said that it was worth trying to go through with it, and did, eventually, manage to reach orgasm, finishing up with a firm sequence of swats on his testicles. Christopher had never mentioned the ridiculous idea again, and was most relieved that his penis was locked away in its tube. Occasionally, Janices lovemaking did extend to a few swats on the testicles, but he never again had to experience such a full-on, passionate spanking applied to them. Christopher did know from reading that some men apparently used their genitals in love-making all the time. It made him shudder even to think about the pain it must involve. Becoming more adventurous It was now two and a half years since that wonderful wedding night, and the spark had not left their marriage. Janice was a great believer in spicing up their lovemaking, and barely a month went by without her producing one or other new sex toy to experiment with. They now had a fine collection of paddles and straps, each producing a slightly different sensation and sound, each quite satisfactory in its own way in working his bottom into a state that made Christopher cry with pain, and his wife cry in ecstasy. On their first wedding anniversary, she had produced a cane which had taken their intimacy to a whole new level. From the very first stroke, Christopher had screamed in shocked agony, and he had begged for mercy, for relief from any more such awful blows. The pleas had been to little avail, but fortunately the cane, while producing ferocious angry weals on his bottom, also seemed to excite Janice immensely, and after just six strokes, he had heard the cane clatter to the floor, above the sound of his wife in the throws of rapture. Since then, the cane had been kept for special occasions. Janice seemed to understand that he needed sometimes to make love at a lower intensity, that the pain from the cane was not something that could be inflicted every single week. But he would often see her looking longingly at the feared instrument where it hung on the wall, and would take the greatest possible pride occasionally when he could bear it in murmuring shyly perhaps youd like to cane me tonight, darling. Anniversaries and birthdays brought the cane, and on one occasion Janice had had an exceptionally bad day at work, and was waiting for him cane in hand, when he arrived home. Without formalities, he had bent across the kitchen table and she made love to him right there, with nine searing strokes of passion.
Page 35
Divinity Lessons Volume II Not all the spicing up had reached such passi onate heights of pain, though. Once, she had gigglingly asked him whether he thought corsets were sexy. He had readily replied that he did, and was charmed when she delved into the department store bag in front of her and brought out a heavily-boned, red lace-up contraption. It had taken a while to get him into it, and as she pointed out, when he bent over to receive the blows of their love-making, it did seem rather to cut into his stomach and restrict his breathing. But it had nonetheless become an important part of their sex life, and he had learnt to love the feeling of the heel of her shoe in the small of his back as she strained to pull the laces to achieve the greatest possible constriction. (part 2) On day, Janice suggested introducing bondage into their lovemaking. At first Christopher had protested. He had caught sight of one or two articles about this, and was sure that it went well beyond what normal people got up to in the bedroom. Youre such a prude she had laughed, when hed objected. If it wasnt for my making you try new things, wed never do anything but the missionary position (the missionary position, hed learnt, was the proper term for their usual lovemaking position: she sitting on the edge of the bed, he draped over her lap having his bottom spanked). So he had consented, and soon found himself tied over a chair as Janice applied one of her love toys to his bottom. They immediately discovered a wonderful effect of bondage that it could allow them to go further in their love-making than ever before. Previously, as Janice vigorously engaged in sexual intercourse especially if she was using an implement to do so Christopher would find himself unable to lie still, or to keep quiet. She was good at holding him in place, especially when he lay in the missionary position across her lap. But there had been more than a few occasions on which Christopher had began howling and thrashing around under the blows, and although this behaviour did seem to excite Janice to approach her orgasm more quickly, it was not unknown for them to have to terminate the love-making before she had reached an orgasm, as Christopher involuntarily struggled free, or the noise seemed likely to annoy the neighbours. Janice explained that breaking free like this was called coming too soon when the man reached a pain level under the spanking that he could no longer take, before the woman was fully satisfied. It made Christopher feel deeply ashamed, after all the effort Janice put into beating him, that he could not always hold on long enough for her to reach orgasm. Bondage supplied the answer. When Christopher was securely fastened over a chair, or simply tied to a bed-post, there was obviously no danger at all of his scrambling away as Janice laid into him with the chosen implement of the day. The shrieking and howling could have become even more of a problem, but fortunately Janice decided, soon after they had started to experiment with bondage, to replace the ropes and cords they had been using with proper equipment. She sent off for a catalogue, and was delighted to find in it a selection of gags to control noise as well as straps to control movement. They tried a few, and soon selected a ball-gag that was able to stifle most of the shrieks.
Page 36
Divinity Lessons Volume II With this in place, Janice could happily thrash away with whatever instrument she liked, with complete abandon, until fully satisfied. Sometimes she would even leave him secured between bouts of lovemaking, returning to the fray when rested and recovered from her own orgasm, and further applying the loving caresses of her whip (it was around this time that Janice had brought a riding crop into their lovemaking) to his already well-flogged bottom. The gag allowed nothing to emerge but little moans and shrieks. On a weekend at a country hotel, however, they had become concerned that even this might be too much, as they had no desire whatever to be asked to leave for over-loud love-making. Janice had suggested a wadded-up bit of cloth, and Christopher had immediately produced his handkerchief. Janice, though, had been concerned that this might be too rough for his mouth, and had instead produced her own panties. Her husband had begged her not to waste her own clothing just to make him comfortable, but his loving wife had insisted and he and soon found himself tied tightly down on the hotel bed, his wifes balled-up panties firmly secured inside his mouth with a strap, very effectively suppressing the screams that would otherwise have disturbed the other hotel guests. That night had been almost a continuous session of love-making, and although Christopher found he could barely walk for days afterwards, the glow of sexual satisfaction on his wifes face made it all worthwhile. Since then, she had on several occasions insisted that he be gagged with her panties again even though less expensive and personal alternatives existed for old times sake, as she put it. Christopher had once bought a pack of panties so that he could take clean ones in his mouth (he hadnt wanted to menti on anything to his wife, out of embarrassment, but from the very first occasion he had been able to detect a distinct taste of pee, and more recently the stains had been visible and the taste pronounced), but she had laughed and said this would be wasteful and that it was better for her to wear the new ones, and to use old ones that had become stained beyond further use when gagging him for a bout of silent sex. Christopher helps out at home Early on, they had fixed upon Fridays as the regular weekly slot for love-making. Christopher often found movement difficult the next day, and after being asked a few times at work why he was wincing, they had agreed on this. Saturday was no day of rest, though. Janice was (as she put it) a proper little homemaker, and as Christopher was out at work most of the week, at the weekend the housework was his responsibility. Feeling relaxed and drained after the agony of the previous nights orgasms, Janice loved to wake up to breakfast in bed on a Saturday morning, and it was the greatest of pleasures for Christopher if he had been fully untied from the night before to scurry downstairs and prepare it for her, before commencing his chores (cleaning the house from top to bottom). When doing this, he wore a maids costume. He had protested when this had been produced, but Janice had patiently explained that the maids uniform, being designed to the purpose, was perfectly suited to doing housework. He had asked whether he could not wear overalls instead, but Janice had giggled and drawn him closer, before whispering that she might want quickly to bend him over and make love perhaps with a paddle or a ruler while he was engaged in the housework to spice it up.
Page 37
Divinity Lessons Volume II Generally, Christopher found on a Saturday that he had had just about all the lovemaking that his poor bottom could stand, but he knew that her sexual drive was stronger than his and so of course he consented to her request. The costume stayed on all day, from the early-morning chores, through serving his wife her mid-morning coffee, right through to the inspection of his work (Janice was quite particular) and maid-service at Saturday dinner. He was taught to curtsey and call her Mistress because, as Janice pointed out, if he was going to act as her maid, it would be such fun to do it properly. Janice and Paula... His friend had warned him to watch out for other men after his wife, so sexy and beautiful was she. In truth, Christopher had very little idea how he would react were any man seriously to make eyes at Janice. It put him in a flush of red jealously just to think of it. As it happened, though, the only time he had had any real suspicions had turned out to be a ludicrous misunderstanding and not with a man, but with another woman! Janice had introduced him to Paula, with whom she had been at boarding school. The two ladies did everything together, and Paula frequently came round for the evening. On an early one of these occasions, she was still there at 11.30, and Janice had suggested that she might like to stay over. Ooooh yes it can be just like a sleepover at school! Paula had giggled. We used to cuddle up to one another in bed after lights -out Janice explained happily to her husband. Just talking and joking, and sometimes tickling each other and so on . It would be lovely, just for old times sake.would you mind terribly sleeping in the spare room tonight, darling? And darling had done as he was asked, happy that his wife was reacquainting herself with old friends (and thrilled to be married to a lady with such a playful, girlish outlook on life). Since then, Paula had stayed over more and more frequently. Friday nights were off-limits, of course, but otherwise Christopher found himself in the spare bedroom two or even three nights a week. Despite his best intentions, he found himself becoming jealous, and even felt an awful suspicion forming. Could the two of them bewell, might it be a bit more than girlish hi -jinks and tickling? They couldnt be making love in there could they? Hating himself for it, Christopher took to creeping out of his spare room and listening quietly at the door. This was mostly quite reassuring. He could hear lots of giggling and muffled little shrieks of glee. Nothing that sounded like the regular slapping sound of a hand on a bottom, or any of the other sounds he associated with a loving beating. He took himself back to his room and went to sleep, contentedly. But over the next few weeks, he could not resist going back more and more frequently. In amongst the laughter, he thought on occasion he could hear Janice making some of the sounds of orgasm, and he could frequently hear Paula making noises that were rather different butcould they be her equivalent? Of course, he was found out. Paula had opened the door, on her way downstairs to get a drink of water, and had shrieked at the sight of her friends husband jumping back in shock. Wordlessly, he had run back to his room, and sat on the bed, quaking in fear. It had not taken long for Janice to appear, the bondage gear in her hands. She
Page 38
Divinity Lessons Volume II had said almost nothing, just quietly instructed him to lie down and proceeded to secure him tightly to the bed, the ball-gag firmly in place. He knew very well that this had nothing to do with love-making, and this was confirmed the next morning when she appeared with a hairbrush in her hand and proceeded to spank him in the one place that they had discovered so early to be completely unrelated to any sexual pleasure his testicles. Later that day, when he had recovered, they talked. At first, Christopher could do nothing but apologise profusely, crying for forgiveness, while Janice was coldly furious and kept slapping the hairbrush against her palm meaningfully. But as Christopher confessed his fears, Janice slowly put the implement down and began to listen. She smiled, and stroked his cheek, and soon all of Christophers deepest fears and jealousy were pouring out. The conversation ended with him sobbing in her arms, as she patted him gently, murmuring You silly, silly boy. When he had recovered enough to listen, Janice calmly explained how baseless his fears were. She described some of the little games she played with her old school friend how they tickled each other, and tried to get the other to shriek with surprising little bites and nips. The loving couple talked and talked all morning, and in the end Janice decided that the best thing was for Christopher to see for himself. He begged her not to bother, explained frantically that he believed her, that his fears had been laid completely to rest. But she was implacable, determined that not the slightest hint of suspicion should taint their perfect marriage, and she went off to phone her friend. Christopher learns the truth Paula, it seemed, was still furious at the intrusion into her privacy, and it had taken Janice a while to calm her down. She insisted that he pay some penalty for his actions, and although mollified by the account of the hairbrush applied to his testicles, she obviously felt that more was required to reflect the seriousness of the situation. Janice had therefore had to agree that Christopher would receive a monthly dose on the same day for the next six months. With Paula in a calmer state of mind, at this thought, she had introduced the idea of his observing their night games. This had immediately put Paula right back into a fit of fury, but Janice knew her friend well and was eventually able to talk her round. Finally, it was agreed, as long as Christopher was completely unable to move or speak throughout the entire thing, and as long as Paula herself could supervise a really firm application of the hairbrush to his testicles at the start of the night and again the next morning. Furthermore, Janice promised that Christopher would clean Paulas house every Sunday from now on, and that Paula herself would be permitted to apply the hairbrush, or just a firm knee, if anything were unsatisfactory. On this basis, Paula gave her consent. It took Janice about ten days to obtain some additional items from her bondage catalogue, because she knew how concerned her friend was that the immobilization of her husband should be complete. She also bought an additional maids outfit, so that Christopher could be clean and smart on both days of the weekend. During this time, she went to Paulas house whenever it was a sleepover night and so, of course, on the Sunday, did Christopher.
Page 39
Divinity Lessons Volume II Paula seemed reluctant to really acknowledge his presence, and gave him his instructions rather impersonally as The maid will do this, The maid will ensure that and so on. With the Sundays dedicated to housework as well (and, as they shortly agreed, a trip to Paulas on the way home from work on Tuesdays and Thursdays, to do the washing-up), Christopher was now spending almost 25 hours a week in domestic service. But it was worth it, for his wife to keep her friendship with Paula, and her love for him, as he told himself. The night finally came. Janice very carefully secured Christopher to the posts of the great four-poster bed in their room. He was tightly encased in a rubber suit, his mouth firmly gagged with just his eyes visible behind holes in his mask. The rubber suit had a hole for Christophers genitals to emerge, making him wonder once again whether other couples incorporated testicle-spanking in their normal lovemaking. It seemed hardly conceivable, the pain was so great. He thanked his lucky stars that his wifes desires were so normal. The hairbrush was produced, the penis-tube was lifted neatly to one side and Janice applied the implement vigorously to his dangling testicles, noting with satisfaction that not a squeak could be heard emerging from the tight gag. Then she nodded curtly, and went downstairs to join her friend. A few hours later, they came up, both obviously a little tipsy and Paula especially so, perhaps Christopher thought, out of shyness at having their girlish games observed. Paula checked his bonds, and also gave him a few firm kicks, perhaps again to check out the effectiveness of the gag, as without it Christopher was not in the slightest doubt that he would scream for mercy. Satisfied, the two women started to remove one anothers clothes, slowly and with little giggles. At first, Paula especially seemed understandably inhibited. But as she got into it, she perhaps forgot the looming presence of the tied-up man over the end of the bed, and concentrated on playing the tickling games. These were indeed, Christopher thought (with a great sense of guilt over his unfair suspicions) entirely innocent and non-sexual. For a start, Paula was naked in front of him as they bounced on the bed together, and he could see clearly that her white bottom had never felt a firm slap from a hand, let alone anything more directly sexual such as the strap or the cane. Christopher felt tears welling up in his eyes yet again (he had cried twice already tonight, during his wifes and Paulas respective attention to his testicles) as he thought how her tools of lovemaking excitingly visible hanging on the wall to the left of the bed, were reserved for him and for him alone. What the two ladies got up to was in no way related to any of the techniques for sexual intercourse to which Janice had introduced him since that first time on the night of their wedding. There was no beating, no one was tied up, indeed there seemed to be no pain involved at all. Christopher settled himself to enjoy the sight of his wife and her friend playing their girlish games. It was as she had assured him all along - just tickling. Mostly, they tickled one another between the legs, although they also kissed one another a lot and stroked and tickled each others breasts. Later, the tickling took a surprising turn, as first Janice and then Paula wriggled down to place her head between the legs of her partner and tickled their wee-hole orally, mostly by licking with the tongue but occasionally also sucking and even gently biting between pursed lips.
Page 40
Divinity Lessons Volume II Christopher felt relieved that Janice didnt want to play such games with him, as it looked distinctly smelly. Ill never complain about being gagged with stained panties again, he thought. The use of the mouth must have been particularly ticklish, as each lady rapidly found herself hysterical with gasping laughter quite soon after experiencing it. That must have been what I thought was an orgasm, Christopher thought to himself. And indeed, it did sound similar, so he chuckled inwardly at how foolish he had been. Later in the night, the games took an even stranger turn, as the ladies produced a black rubber object, and proceeded to insert it into one anothers wee holes. Christopher wondered how they could possibly stand the feeling it must tickle even more than the licking, he thought. But the ladies seemed not to mind too much, although they could barely control their gasping sobs of laughter as it moved smoothly in and out. The activities ended with Janice kneeling above Paulas face, in what seemed to b e a competition for who could stand the tickling longest. Paula was using her tongue, while Janice was applying some kind of buzzing device between her friends legs. Both became almost hysterical with giggles, but eventually Janice seemed to win, as Paula struggled for mercy shrieking Yes! Yes! Yes!, and Janice rolled off and allowed her to recover. After switching the light off, the two friends fell asleep in one anothers arms, and Christopher hung from aching wrists in the darkness, thinking once again how lucky he was to have a wife such as Janice. (Part 3) Then one Sunday something appalling happened. He was cleaning Paulas house, as usual, and was standing before her, as she angrily pointed out a spot he had apparently missed on the carpet. Her eyesight- or standards of cleanliness was more acute than his, and he stood in confusion thinking that the carpet looked pristine. Look at it just there, look closely! she had insisted furiously, and he had bent down to observe better (and indeed, could then see to his shame, a small patch of dust that had previously escaped his attention. He was about to get up to present his testicles for the inevitable kicking, when he was startled by Paulas hand raising his skirt, followed by the crack of her other palm impacting his upper thigh, in the gap between his stockings and his panties. He froze in shock and the hand descended again, slapping him over and over and driving his face into the carpet where he knelt. He knew afterwards that he should have protested at the very first stroke. But in confusion (and perhaps lust?) he remained kneeling for the entire thing, only then rising, his face crimson and backing away towards the door. In his confusion and shame he had run from Paulas house in full maids uni form, and as he clattered home in his high heels, he was well aware of the sight he must be, in his disshevelled uniform, with tears pouring down his face. But he didnt care, and once home (Janice was out) he ran upstairs to the spare room, as he could not bring himself to enter the marital bedroom, his heart pounding and his vision blurred. How could he? With her best friend? After all she had done for him, introducing him to the sacred mysteries of the rod and the whip, after so gently dealing with his fears about sex, even especially after taking the trouble to show him how harmless and innocent her little games with Paula had been? How could he have
Page 41
Divinity Lessons Volume II allowed her best friend to spank him? He was an adulterer, a cheating husband, he told himself in misery and panic. Even if it never happened again, even if his relationship with Paula stayed strictly proper, as Mistress and maid, Paula would always know. And worsehe would. And so, surely, would Janice. They had never had secrets from one another. They shared everything. Early on, Janice had even explained that many wives kept their monthly period from their husbands, but that because she knew their marriage should be completely open one, she was going to trust and permit him to buy, apply and dispose of her tampons. She wanted them to share every aspect of their lives, and now he had betrayed her. Christopher sat on the edge of the bed in misery. When Janice came home, there was no point in pretending. Quite apart from his inability to control his emotions, there was the fact that he was home in the middle of the afternoon. Normally, his chores at Paulas house kept him there well into the evening. In fact, Sunday night was a favourite for a sleepover, so Paula was often already tucked up in bed with his wife, by the time he returned with aching arms and sore knees from the days labours. Christopher? Darling! Whatevers the matter?. She rushed to the bed, and held him in her arms. And slowly, through sobs and long pauses, Christopher explained to his wife what had happened. At first, she seemed simply confused, but as understanding dawned, her expression hardened and the arms around her sobbing husband seemed to stiffen. When he had finished his explanations, she pushed him away wordlessly and his dress rustled as he squirmed in his place. I need to talk to Paula she said, flatly, and left the room. Christopher took off his dress and wondered what he should do. He did not have to wonder long. Janice came back carrying bondage gear. Clinically and efficiently, she tied him up his hands behind his back, his knees and ankles securely fastened and a hood with gag over his head. Before tightening the gag, she had paused and said I need to know, Christopher. Do you still love me? I love you, Janice! I love only you, and always will he had sobbed, with heartfelt devotion. Then the gag had tightened in place and the hood was placed over his head. From inside the darkness, he heard the door slam behind her. Later, he thought he heard raised voices from downstairs, but he could not be sure as the hood muffled most sounds very effectively. He lost all track of time, lying there on the bed. He later discovered it had been just over 15 hours, and he had a raging thirst and (to his shame) had wet himself and the bed by the time he was released. Janice removed his hood (but not the gag), and unfastened his hands. She looked down in disgust. Clean yourself and this up then I want to talk to you downstairs. Christopher was able to remove his bonds and tidy up the mess, then got dressed and went downstairs to face his wife. She was sitting in a chair in the living room, reading a magazine, and glanced up as he approached. I said I wanted to talk to you, I didnt say I wanted you to talk she said. Go and put that g ag back on right now and take those ridiculous clothes off. Four minutes later, naked and gagged, Christopher stood in front of his wife. Had he been able to speak, he would have begged for forgiveness, would have offered
Page 42
Divinity Lessons Volume II anything anything for their marriage to be as it was. Instead, he simply had to listen in silence. It was worse than any beating he had ever experienced. She explained, calmly and without emotion, that he had betrayed her, as had Paula. She described how hurt and insulted she felt, how none of the relations between the three of them could be the same again. And when she had done this, she set out how things were going to work in the future. Quite clearly, neither he nor Paula could be trusted. She had been allowing him too much personal freedom, and now her trust had been abused, she understood that she could not be so liberal. He would be kept under much closer control in future. As for Paula, she had started their conversation last night determined never to see her again. But Paula had cried and apologized, and Janice had simply decided that she could not lose her best friend and her husband both at the same time. But she needed to keep an eye on Paula, too. So: this was how it would be in the future. Paula would move in with them. Christopher would give up his job, and would be kept permanently supervised in the house. On occasions when Janice was out, Christopher was to be locked away (a cupboard could be adapted for the purpose, Janice thought, or she might purchase a cage from the bondage catalogue). He would not be permitted clothes or speech, would eat leftovers after the ladies of the house had finished their meal and would do nothing but perform the most menial household tasks. And so it has been ever since. Christopher lives in a cage, wears a mask and gag all the time and is only allowed out in Janices presence and then on a chain. He eats scraps, liquidized in a blender and sucked up around his ballgag through a thick straw. An electric shock device has been fitted to his testicles, to which both ladies have a control. The device is quite robust, though, and is not usually dislodged by even the most vigorous beating on his testicles. She sleeps in the master bedroom with the forgiven Paula, unforgiven he sleeps alone in his cage. Occasionally, the two ladies introduce other women or even men to their tickling games, and on these occasions Christopher is kept well out of sight. He cleans up afterwards, and more than once had had to deal with what he now knows to be the milky fluid discharge from a stiffened male penis. He shudders at the thought, and prays silent thanks to the loving wife who made sure he never had to experience such a horror. The stiffening in his own penis has long since ceased, something Janices nursing friend put down to the now daily applications of the hairbrush to his testicles. He has not spoken a word since the profession of love for his wife on that day of shame, and perhaps he never will. Yet that is all he needed to say, all that he knows, all that he is. Do not pity Christopher. He still has a very full sex life, as his buttocks are whipped by his wife (or occasionally Christopher suspects from inside his hood by Paula) and his chores fill his days with meaningful work. Whatever the future may hold for him and it is unlikely to hold anything very different he knows that it is because his wife loves him so much that she cares enough to subject him to this lifetime of penitence.
Page 43
Burial plot
I expect you find it strange, not having Mark around the house any more?, Amelia said, sympathetically. Oh yes replied Karen. After nine years of marriage its well, its And she broke off, tears welling up in her eyes. Her friend reached forward and laid a hand on hers. You dont have to tell me. I went through it with Colin too. No matter how prepared you are, it feels so odd, with the house empty. But you know, in the long run its best. He was in so much pain in the last few years and now you can get on with your life. I know sniffed Karen. It was just seeing him being buried at the weekend. I thought Id be ready. But it wasnt easy. She had a thought. Would you like to see where hes buried? I visit every day, you know. Amelia smiled, understandingly. Yes. Yes, Id like that. They went out into the garden, where a freshly dug patch of earth made it obvious where Marks final resting place was to be found. There Karen said. Thats his breathing tube, you see. The blue one. Then the green one is for feeding and water. Ive been feeding him every day, you know. Well except Tuesday. It was raining too hard. She looked a little sad. Thats OK, Amelia said encouragingly, squeezing her arm. I did just the same at first. But then later on youll find you dont want to take the time any more, and I expect youll install a feeding tank. I only have to fill mine once a month now, and thats for both of them. The two stood still for a moment, looking silently at the two little tubes sticking out of the ground. A blade of grass growing near the mouth of the blue one quivered from time to time, as Marks breathing disturbed the air. Did he suffer much, in the last few days? Amelia enquired. Oh yes. Karen said. I made sure of that. By the end, he could barely scream any more. Well then Amelia said, turning to her friend and smiling reassuringly. Youll always have those memories. Lets go and have a cup of tea, and you can try out the new boy. And with that, the two friends turned and went back into the house, leaving Mark to rest forever in peace.
Page 44
Lines of responsibility
"I know youve been on management training courses before, Mr Halford, but Im confident youll see a real difference to your performance after this one. Its a completely new management training technique. Now Ive written a sentence down here: Every day, I must strive to do my very best at work, carrying out the instructions of my boss to the best of my ability, giving her no cause to complain of laziness, rudeness or disobedience on my part. Isnt that a motivational sentence? Imagine how you could succeed if you have that running through your head every minute of the day! Now heres what we do. Theres a pile of paper on your desk, there. Now I want you to take the pencil and write the number one then write out the sentence. Shall I read it again for you? Every day, I must strive to do my very best at work, carrying out the instructions of my boss to the best of my ability, giving her no cause to complain of laziness, rudeness or disobedience on my part. Good. Now write the number two and do it again. OK. Now do you see what were doing? Yes, thats right. Now youre going to keep going until youve reached number 200, OK? And I want you to do it all in one go, so no getting up from the desk, no speaking at all. If you make a mistake in writing out the line, I want you to draw a neat line through it and write it again. If you have to
Page 45
Divinity Lessons Volume II make more than three crossings-out on any one page, throw that page away and start it again. Off you go. No, I said no talking please, Mr Halford. Thats quite important for the exercise to work. When youve finished, or if your pencil breaks, I want you just to raise your hand and sit quietly. Two hours later Finished? Excellent. Well, you can get up and bring me your papers. Now while Im looking through it, were going to try an exercise in mental visualisation. I want you to stand over there in the corner, facing the wall. No, a little closer. Your nose should be nearly touching. Thats right. Now put your hands on your head. I want you to visualise the sentence in your mind, as you remain in that position until I tell you to stop. See if you can see it floating in space on the blank wall in front of you. If I leave the room, you should remain in that position. An hour later Right, Mr Halford. I think were making excellent progress. Come and stand over here. You can keep your hands on your head. Now I counted nine crossings-out in your written work, and I see you discarded one page, so I suppose thats another four, making 13 errors in all. And you also spoke when Id instructed you to remain silent, so lets call that another 10, making 23 in all. Im going to round that up to 24. Now we come to the really innovative part of this training. Its a completely new approach to motivational training. I am going to make you feel very sorry for each and every one of those 24 errors. Can you guess how? No, its not that. Not even close. Go to that drawer over there and bring me whats inside it. Yes, that. Do you know what that is? No, its nothing to do with cooking. Its a motivational instruction tool. Ill show you how it works
Page 46
Half an hour later still Right, Mr Halford, I think were done here for the day. You might want to tuck your shirt a bit more neatly back into your trousers before you go back to your office. Thats better. Did you find that motivational? Yes, it is rather isnt it? Its simple, but amazingly effective. But it only works if you keep it up. Now the great thing about this technique is you dont have to be an expert trainer to do it. Ive got a name here Janine OBrien? oh, shes your secretary? Right. Super. No, no, shes not going on a course like this Mr Halford! This is only for senior managers. No, Janine is booked on a motivational instructor training course this week. So shell be able to deliver the weekly modules of your training programme. Isn't that great? Its best to agree a single time Thursday at 6pm or suchlike and just stick to it. Shell be tracking your performance at work too. Oh, dont look so worried, Im sure shell pick it up in no time. Shell be watching the video of todays session, at the start of her course, so shell know exactly what to expect. We usually find that secretaries love taking on these additional tasks, and really put everything theyve got into it. Anyway, shell send me weekly reports.
Janine. Isn't she sweet?
Then youll come back here from time to time for a refresher course. And there are quite a few other things we havent tried too."
Page 47
You cant always get what you want

But if you try sometimes, you might find you get what you need. Part 1 - Fantasy David had been troubled or delighted by fantasies of submission to dominant women, since early childhood. He could dimly remember, before teenage years, before any notion of a sexual dimension to the thoughts, lying in bed and constructing elaborate fantasy worlds in which wicked ladies (often nurses) did unspeakably degrading things to him and to other boys. Just occasionally, he would supplement these thoughts with thoughts of some of the girls at school, in some way forcing him to wear their soiled knickers and humiliating him in public. He knew enough even at this tender age, to say nothing to anyone of these thoughts. And so the solitary vice continued, stimulated by occasional passages in novels in which S&M was mentioned, fired further by occasional p hotos of women dressed in leather or rubber, to illustrate boring articles in the magazines his parents read, and once flamed to a white heat by the rocket fuel of a brief scene in a Pink Panther movie, in which the bumbling French detective is whipped and chased by a leather-clad dominatrix (a term he could find sexually exciting just from its dictionary definition). He also discovered the link with sex and with masturbation, a link that only wired the impulses ever harder. At college he made his first nervous foray to seedy shops in London to buy pornography. At the same time, he discovered real sex with real girls, and enjoyed the novelty. But the two were different, like lemonade and vodka. After college and some success in his career, he was continuing to pursue both interests, now as a married man. Alice had been a college friend, elegant and attractive, clever and rather serious-minded, and always fiercely sought-after. He had as he convinced himself - fallen in love, and had been surprised and delighted when on meeting up some years later, his feelings had been cautiously welcomed and eventually reciprocated. They married, and seemed headed for the typical life of a successful middle class couple. Alice, it turned out, could not have children and the love of the two for one another sustained them through the desperate disappointment this caused. It was not this blow that drew them apart, but simple boredom, nurtured by the resurgence of Davids fantasy life, more vigorously than ever. After about a year and half of marriage, he had finally taken the step he had been dreaming of since childhood and visited a professional dominatrix. Terrified that his fantasies would come crashing down in a squalid flat with an uninterested aging gin in leather several sizes too small for her, he had instead been surprised and delighted by the understanding and creativity his Miss Whiplash (as we shall impertinently call her) brought to her work. He was a little disappointed in his ability to take or in any way enjoy real pain, and by how tedious and uncomfortable he found it when briefly assigned repetitive household tasks. But he felt that his addiction was being fed in the best way it could be and if, like any addiction, it grew more needy rather than more sated as a result, well he found that his career provided ever more money and the increasingly loveless marriage ever more time for more of the drug. Part 2 - discovery
Page 48
Divinity Lessons Volume II Then one day as they say everything changed. David was woken on a Saturday by his wife, who had been up for some hours, and said she wanted to talk to him. Downstairs, laid out across the dining room table, was the report of a private detective whom Alice had engaged for the last two months. Everything was there the timings of Davids visits to the suburban dungeon in Kent, receipts for the little presents he had taken her, photographs of him arriving at the house bearing flowers and furtively knocking at the door. Hopes David had of somehow convincing her that this was a normal affair were scotched by photos the private eye had secured of Miss Whiplash entering and leaving her house, in normal street clothes, and comparing them to pictures of her in her working outfits from her web site. As the clinching evidence, a long telephoto lens seemed to have produced a blurred and dark image of someone in a maids uniform, seen through a kitchen window through into a neighbouring room, standing in front of someone sitting on a couch and apparently raising his skirt. It was his skirt, because although the photo was so blurred as for identity to be fully arguable in a court of law, David and his wife knew him immediately, from the stance and something about the set of the shoulders. In any case, the private eye had also helpfully laid out Davids fantasy life for Alices inspection by eviscerating his computer. From the hidden, password protected areas, the investigator seemed effortlessly to have extracted photos and lists of videos. Casting his eye across it, David reflected ruefully that he had done a good job in presenting a representative selection of the immense stock of material. All of Davids fantasy life was here: from leather -clad dominatrices whipping pony boys and other slaves in the open air in Eastern Europe, via stern governesses wielding canes over quaking schoolboys, alongside nurses performing surprisingly intimate procedures wearing rubber gloves, to more maternal types, welcoming their naughty charges across their aproned laps with a wooden hairbrush and an understanding smile. Finally, there were emails to Miss Whiplash: emails of thanks for past joys and of hopes for the future. They were all signed little davey. David looked into Alices accusing eyes. IIm sorry he began. How much? she broke in coldly. How much? How much what? he replied in confusion. How much of our money have you spent on her? On that tart? On all this? How much? In some ways relieved that he wasnt being asked to explain or discuss his behaviour at this stage David worked out for her how much money had been spent, on tribute, on presents and suchlike. It came to an amount that surprised him, and he stood again in silence. Alice thought for a while. Go back up to our bedroom she said, flatly without looking at him. Ill come up and talk to you later. Part 3 - reality
Page 49
Divinity Lessons Volume II About an hour later, she walked into their bedroom without knocking. He looked up from the tear-stained pillow where he had been lying in misery. Ive been reading about this stuff, since the investigator gave me a preliminary report about a month again, she informed him. I know you need discipline, and to be given orders and humiliated. He started to trot out his rehearsed protests of how he would change, all this would be put aside, but she cut him short. Dont lie to me. I know you cant stop either. Its an addiction. You need this. Do you want to try telling me that isnt true? He opened his mouth but no words emerged. It was true, and both knew it. Im not having you spending our money on that whore. she went on, wi th the air of someone who has come a decision. So from now on, Ill be doing it for you. She walked over to her dressing table and picked up a hair brush. You need to be spanked, Ill spank you for free. And it stays here, in the house. She sat down on the edge of the bed. Here she said, simply, pointing to her lap. David looked at her, aghast. This was not an outcome he had expected or wanted. It had been a long time since he connected this middle-aged woman with anything sexual. As he looked at her, looking tired and depressed, with bags under her eyes from lack of sleep and no makeup, David was appalled at the thought of playing his sexual games with her. She was nice enough in her way but he just didnt think of herlike that. He looked at her white flabby thighs and thought longingly of Miss Whiplashs legs, all fishnetted elegance. Look, Darling, I really dont think you need to he began. Over here NOW! she shouted. And David scrambled into position. He was no sooner there than CRACK! as the hairbrush hurtled down to crack against the unprotected skin of his backside, as his dressing gown lay open. Oh Christ! he shouted, unthinkingly. Fucking hell Alice, not like that SLAP! AH! No, its a fucking game, its just a fucking oh no, Jesus, dont CRACK! Oaaagh. Oh God, Alice, its a game with a safeword, let me tell you about fucking safew WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! Taking advantage of his momentary breathlessness following three punishing blows to his sore rump, Alice put the brush down as she calmly explained that she was well aware that little Miss Whiplash didnt do it like this. That was because little
Page 50
Divinity Lessons Volume II Miss Whiplash was being paid to play games, and she, Alice, was doing it for real this time. Picking up the hairbrush again, Alice resumed the slapping, this time at a steady pace. And over the increasing howls and horrified pleading coming from below, she calmly explained that sometimes she might play games, but she would also do this for real when she was angry with him. And today, she was very angry indeed. When he was finally pushed off, David was sent downstairs to make Alice a cup of tea. Halfway downstairs he paused by a mirror and gingerly lifted his dressing gown to look at the damage. Christ the mad bitch had almost killed him. Alice played tennis regularly, and had strong arms and a good wrist action. And David had really felt it, he thought, tears returning to his eyes. His rear was a mass of bruises, glowing and angry like their perpetrator. He staggered on downstairs barely able to walk with straightened legs, such was the pain he was in. While the tea brewed, he resolved on a course of action. He would sit down (gently!) and try to have an adult conversation with her about all this stuff. After all, she was very new to it. She had to be told that this simply wouldnt work. In a friendly manner (Look here, old girl) hed explain that there was a world of difference between being battered by a (middle-aged! dumpy!) wife on the one hand, and playing complex psychological roleplay games with a professional (young! gorgeous!) dominatrix on the other. He would promise to go for psychological counselling. Or the bitch can have a divorce, he told himself as he went back upstairs with the tea and a cup of coffee for himself, ruefully calculating the likely alimony required to buy her silence. But the conversation didnt go like that. Instead, Alice simply inquired why he had made himself a cup of coffee when she had instructed him only to make the tea for her. There are new rules now in this house she remarked, getting up and staring him in the eye. And she hit him hard across the left cheek. When he straightened up to protest, she hit him again, this time across the right cheek. But he began, but shut up when he saw the glare on her face, through his teared-up eyes. Give me your dressing gown cord she commanded, and David handed it to her wordlessly. Alice took a pair of scissors from her dressing table and neatly cut it in two. Turn around she ordered and put your hands behind your back. Unable to be surprised by anything more today, David felt oddly normal as his wife firmly tied his wrists together behind his back. She gave a final tug to tighten it. Ouch! he winced. Not so tight you can cut off the blood if youre not careful. She spun him round to face her. I have heard quite enough for one day she informed him coldly, and taking the other cord half she neatly tied a large squashy knot in its middle. Open wide. David did as he was bidden, without a word. And so, as the bunched up cloth entered his mouth, to be secured firmly behind the back of Davids head, the last chance passed for him to influence, or even comment on, the future course of his life.
Page 51
Divinity Lessons Volume II The gag stayed on all day, with a brief break at lunchtime for silent refreshment, the wrists stayed tied until the morning after. When the gag was removed, David understood a lot of things about how things were going to be in the future. Above all, he understood that it was not up to him. Alice had explained that she knew about his needs and was going to meet them. Often, the way she would meet them would not be pleasant or enjoyable for David. She explained that she herself gained no sexual pleasure from punishing him. However, she would use it to enforce her wishes. She liked the thought of being obeyed without argument, and she liked the thought of the housework being done by David. She did not like dressing up in erotic costume or anything like that, and she would not be doing it. She did not like the t hought of foot worship or anything similar, so there would be none of that either. She liked the idea of being in control of all the finances and making all the decisions about their lives, and she was also looking forward to making David work harder to be more successful in his career. She did not like the thought of masturbation which would be strictly controlled or pornography which would be banned. She explained all of this in a way that left David in no room for doubt, either about her wishes or her determination to enforce them. This was how she wanted it to be, from now on. And that was that. Part 4 misery? Fast forward eleven years. Alice is sitting in their living room. There are a few changes. She has become rather fat. Not gross or obese, but Alice enjoys her food and sees little reason to keep herself in trim. She wears no makeup. She sits there in an armchair, looking quite self-contained, reading a magazine quietly. You would be forgiven for not noticing David, but he is still there. He has not become fat. On the contrary, he is rather gaunt. He stands quietly at the back of the room, hands by his side, wearing a maids costume. This is not a frilly, sissy frou -frou naughty French maids outfit but just a straight up and down black pinaf ore, hardwearing and hard-working as worn by equally gaunt cleaners in hard-up hotels up and down the country. Davids knees are red and callused. Clearly, he spends a lot of time down on them. There is an umbrella stand in the corner. In it, along with two walking sticks and an umbrella, stands a crook-handled cane. To you, this might be barely noticeable. To David, it - together with his wife - forms one of the two focal points of the room. He is constantly aware of it. The cane is rarely used in their marriage, but when it is, it is not soon forgotten. Alice never did see the point of playful punishment, and continued to apply herself with the same forceful determination to inflect real pain that she displayed so shockingly with the hairbrush on that very first day. With the cane, she can reduce David to howling, fearful incoherence with just a couple of strokes and double and redouble the pain with every subsequent stroke. With the cane, she can dictate obedience, as David will willingly submit to any punishment, to any humiliation knowing that the cane stands ready for use as a last resort. With the cane, Alice rules her marriage. It comes out of its stand not more than once or twice a year. Then it is used on Davids buttocks. But every day, and every hour of every day, it is used on Davids mind.
Page 52
Divinity Lessons Volume II Were he to raise his skirt (which he would not do without an order) we would see Davids chastity device. This was always a great fantasy of his, and occasionally in later years he tried to remember why. Chastity is a sexy idea, but it is sexy primarily for the thought of release. Under Alices command, release is never to be discussed (an early, tentative inquiry by David as to when Alice might be considering it brought about one of the earliest and best-remembered encounters with the cane). Release does come, but when it does it is unannounced and brief. Typically, Alice unlocks the device and informs David that he has five or ten minutes to himself in the bathroom, before she comes in to supervise a cold shower and the re-encasement of his neglected genitals. This has generally happened every few months or so, but lately Alice seems to have lost interest or forgotten, as it has been six months since the last occasion. David has not forgotten and is still very interested, but dare not speak about the subject. Alice has consistently refused to accommodate any notion that the discipline and punishment within their marriage has any sexual component. Early on, they tried forced oral sex. Alice found it mildly stimulating, but she never became the nymphomaniac ordering daily intimate worship, of Davids fantasies. Actually, David had thought this just as well, as the half-hours spent before her on his knees had been agony, and his tongue had always started to ache long before any signs of sexual satisfaction on her part. So their marriage had become completely sexless. Alice had later taken up with a young lesbian called Clare, but David was kept firmly hidden away during that affair, and Clare never did discover that her partner was even married. David rises every day at 5.30, doing chores before heading off to work at 7am. On his return at 7pm (or later, if he has a legitimate work-related reason for lateness and seeks permission by phone) he changes into his maids uniform, prepares Alices dinner and serves her. After dinner, he present receipts for any money he has spent during the day, he waits for any further instruction which is where we see him now and is eventually given permission to go to bed. His room is a cubbyhole in the cellar. Adjoining his room is the utility room, where David spends a lot of his weekends ironing. It also doubles as a punishment room. Alice keeps meaning to soundproof the room, but has never really got round to it (and in any case feels mildly embarrassed at the thought of knowing looks from the workmen), so a gag is usually employed during beatings, to spare the neighbours feelings. Alice has moved on from the makeshift dressing gown cord gag of that very first day, and a well-chewed ball gag hangs on the wall, next to the equally worn and well-used instruments of correction. And so this is their marriage. In early years, Alice would refer to him as her slave and David had to admit that in all relevant aspects, that word was the right one. He had just once laid plans for escape, carefully accumulating cash in a hiding place in the utility room, following a rather complex series of transactions that allowed him to keep about 10% of his work expense claims out of sight of his wife. He had almost saved up enough, and had already made discrete arrangements to sleep on the sofa of an old friend who lived in the North, while he looked around for a menial job under an assumed identity. But on the day before his escape, he had quietly told a few people at work that he was unlikely to return. Unknown to him, one of his female colleagues had long ago been befriended by Alice, who had asked her to
Page 53
Divinity Lessons Volume II look out for any peculiar behaviour by her serially unfaithful husband. David had indeed failed to show up for work the next day, calling in ill, and it was the next Monday before he reappeared. The informant colleague (still incognito to David) thought he looked as if hed had a good telling-off and so indeed, among other things, he had. He had also learnt that Alice had no intention of allowing him or anyone else to change their living arrangements. He had thought that he had already experienced the worst she could do. But he had been wrong. And so he is a slave, truly a slave. Alice still prefers to call him husband, but she knows and he knows it means the same thing. David will retire in a few years time, with a large pension, the thanks of his grateful co-workers and nothing but years of hard labour and pain ahead of him. This is is it not? the life of his fantasies. Is David happy? Look at his face, as he stands meekly there by the wall. No he is not happy. He hates the chastity, he hates the housework and the early mornings, he hates that gag and above all he hates the pain. Every time Alice hits him, with leather, wood, plastic or hand, whether on his bottom, his palms, his thighs, his face or any other part of his abused, battered body; he is reminded all over again how startlingly painful real pain is, and wonders how he ever fantasised about it. He is miserable. As he cries himself to sleep each night, in pain and rage and frustration and hatred of the bitter lot that is his life, he wishes every time that he had never married her, that she would just leave oror go away some other way. The love went out of their marriage long ago. It was a shock when he finally admitted it to himself (and I am sorry to have to report this) but David hates her: hates her cruelty, her indifference and her power. But the fear she inspires is stronger than the hate, and every morning, chores complete, he knows he will knock gently at her door, tiptoe in and deposit the silver tray of her breakfast at the side of her bed. Then he will go to the dressing table, pick up the same hairbrush that she deployed all those years before, kiss it gently then place it near her on the bed. Then he will meekly await his morning spanking. Not a single day has passed since that first one when the hairbrush has not been used. And it hurts like hell now, just as it did all those spankings before. As it will every day that is yet to come. So is it a sad tale, this one of Davids? Perhaps. But Alice has been a most constant wife to him. She never said she would give him what he wants, but only what he needs. He does not want it, he does not like it and this many years after his infidelity, perhaps he does not even deserve it any more. But deep down, he suspects that she is right about this, that she knows him better than he knows himself, that to be treated as he is, is what he needs. And if shes wrong - well, she wouldnt care and Davids in no position to object and no one else knows. And anyway, its all just a silly fantasy for my femdom stories and captions blog. Isnt it? I did make quite clear that nothing here is r eal, so why worry? PS Miss Whiplash, in case you were wondering, is no longer Miss Whiplash but runs a small shop selling pet supplies down in Bournemouth. She takes in and looks after stray cats, and she is happy. One of the cats is called little davey.
Page 54
Waiting
This is perhaps the only really serious story in the collection. Its also the one that visitors to my blog tell me they like the most. I like it too.
You wait in silence, with the others. You know all these men by sight and by name. But you never really speak to them. You nodded silently at them as you walked in, and you too joined the chorus of curt nods as later arrivals walked in and found a place. But you dont speak. Later on, its not allowed but no one has ever said you cant speak to them at this stage. But why would you? Theres nothing to say. You know nothing of what they do. Except that like you, they do this. You know all their names because you hear the receptionist call them out when shes checking attendance. And later you hear them called one by one by a different voice, from behind the heavy wooden door. The door is thick and muffles the sound. But you listen with exceptional care, because the name might be yours. Eventually, it will be yours, there can be no doubting or escaping that. You long to get it over with. But you dread it too, and breathe again as another man rises heavily to his feet, and reluctantly passes into the other room.
Page 55
Divinity Lessons Volume II There is a large clock, which ticks and tocks heavily into the silence, from the corner. You wonder whether it was placed there deliberately to add to the tension. Tension is barely the word, because to be truthful, what you feel is fear, plain and simple. Fear building since the start of this week, as the day approached. Fear that struck like an icicle in the pit of your stomach this morning, when you woke up knowing this was the day. Fear that now seems ready to bubble over into panic, sending you hysterically fleeing from this place. But somehow you never do. Now there are some sounds to be heard from behind the door, at the limit of hearing. You cant make out words but you can hear her voice, level and measured as always. She never raises her voice and she never shouts. She talks about her expectations for the men under her tutelage, and she identifies specific areas in which they have fallen short. She asks precise, pointed questions and she listens carefully to the answers. You can hear the mans voice, answering her questions. His voice is qui et too, but there is an urgency and a rush to it, as if he is trying to suppress the panic that might cause him to shout. It is worth putting your point of view. Perhaps it would be easier if she were more implacable, if nothing you said could make a difference. But she listens, and will change her mind if the explanations are reasonable. And so you explain, and you excuse and you apologiseand as in panic you see her unmoved by those carefully prepared explanations, you can find yourself gabbling. This is what you hear now. The mans voice has become more shrill in tone, and urgent. He is no longer discussing his behaviour, he is simply pleading. And this does no good. She will not tolerate it for long, and the whining tones cease abruptly, no doubt at a curt word from her. After a pause, her own voice can be heard again. Now, she is giving her decision, and the reasons for it. Now there is no pleading to be heard, because at this stage there is no point. The voice as measured and calm as ever ceases and there is silence. Total, empty silence, which the tick-tocking of the clock seems to swell to fill. Inside the room, positions are being assumed. Clothing is perhaps being adjusted. Implements are being selected, laid out ready. Restraints are almost certainly being applied: most men need them. All is done in silence, and the men outside find themselves holding their breath. It is always longer than expected. Surely it must start now, you think? But perhaps something is not yet quite right. She will not begin until everything is ready, and she never hurries. Total silence. And then the silence is violently broken, by the sharp CRACK of an implement. Wooden or leather? A paddle or a cane? On the bare flesh or (less commonly, except for the very harshest implements) across the clothing? The sound of just one impact answers all of these questions. You know precisely what is being done. You have experienced it. This is a heavy leather strap, applied across a bare bottom. And although there is a feeling of relief that this time it is him and not you, you know too that it will be you. Maybe not this implement, not this way, this time around. But eventually, you will experience everything, and all of the combinations. But just for now, just at this precise time, you are out here and it is someone else in there who is having that done to him. And that is something for which you can only give thanks.
Page 56
Divinity Lessons Volume II You dont know how many. And so you count. You would prefer not to, you would prefer to think of something else. But you count, of course you count. All around the room, no matter where their gaze lies or what they seem to be thinking, all are counting. There is no point in counting someone elses strokes, as it will never affect your own later. But you have to count, how can you not? With each impact, you wonder whether that was the last. As they build up, at regular intervals, milestones are reached. At five, or at seven there is little doubt that another will follow after a pause. But at six or at ten, exactly the same pause seems to stretch out until you wonder whether that is that until CRACK tells you that there is more still to come. She likes sixes, and the pauses at 12, 18 and 24 hang particularly heavily in the room. During a particularly hard beating, it is essential not to meet anyone elses eye, as what expression could you possibly share when the 25 th, or the 37th or even the 61st impact rings out across the room? So eyes stay firmly fixed on the floor. Mingled in with the sounds of this steady beating, the sounds of its results begin to be heard. Grunts and heavy breathing barely make it through the thick wooden door, but after a while little cries and gasps start to emerge. One or two men can remain silent almost throughout, and one new arrival is still helplessly noisy almost from the start when it is his turn. But most find themselves involuntarily commenting on the discipline as it builds up, beginning to cry out as if in surprise at the fresh pain from each stroke. You never get used to it, either from one session to the next or from one stroke to the next. Each impact outrages the nerve endings, which have evolved to report pain so it can be avoided. Yet here it cannot be avoided, and so the nerves shout ever more angrily, ever more urgently. Someone is hitting you, is calmly adding bruise onto bruise, is raising welts on ever more damaged tissue! Pain receptors urgently report the assault, commanding an immediate response. Run away! Hide! Fight back! But you cannot do any of those things. So what do you do? You cry out. You yell and shriek instinctively, to alert people around that you are in pain and need relief. But there is only her, and she will not be providing any relief from this. So you yell, and you cry and you shriek andyou beg. Yes. You beg. You offer frantic apologies and promises and bargains. You plead for mercy, knowing all the time that nothing will do the slightest good, that nothing you say can possibly dissuade her from her set course of action. Your hopeless begging will not result in one fewer stroke or the most marginal diminution in the force with which any are applied. Every time you tell yourself you will not beg, that you are a rational being and you will not be reduced to a piteous, mewling coward for no reason. But you will beg for mercy, you know you will. You always do. The pause after 24 is long. After a while, you stop waiting for the sound of 25. For some reason, tension around the room relaxes slightly. Shoulders shift almost imperceptibly forwards. Why the sound of someone else being beaten is so nerveracking is hard to explain. After all, when someone esle is being beaten, you are not. It is now, after their beating, that the door might fly open and a disshevvilled figure stagger into the room, to pass into the corridor where he will stand quietly facing the wall (fidgeting but not daring to explore his damaged flesh under the watchful eye of the receptionist), until all of the sessions are complete. And if that happens, then it will be someone elses turn. And that someone might be you.
Page 57
Divinity Lessons Volume II There are four other men in the room. So there is a one in five chance that it will be you next time. Eventually, of course, it must be you. The probability rises until it reaches one, when the second-last is receiving his treatment and there is no one left in the room to wait with you. You hate being last, like that. But there is another possibility. All the rooms occupants start visibly as the sound of another impact is heard. This is quieter, more of a SNICK! than a slapping, cracking sound. But it is nothing gentle. You know it is the cane. And even if you had not instantly recognised that soft, deadly, evil sound, the shriek that follows provides a further clue. The previous session is not yet done, but has merely reached another stage. You didnt know that, as the sounds of the first beating built up. But the recipient in there almost certainly did, having had his punishment explained to him before it began. He knew, all the way to 24 strokes, that this was merely the overture, that no amount endured from the strap in any way lessened the number of strokes of the cane yet to come. Perhaps it would have been easier for him not to know. But she did not give him that choice, because that is not the way she does it. Somehow you find it hard to breathe when someone is being caned. But you have to breathe, because the pace is slower, with long pauses between the strokes. The pauses are not silent, because the recipient is now crying uncontrollably, having long lost the ability to form coherent words. Yet the strokes punctuate and regulate the rhythm of the sobs, implacably. The screams tell of agony and fear. You already know that, because you have had the cane too. And you screamed in just the same way. Other men dont do this. It is the midd le of a Friday evening, and other men are drinking with their friends, or dining with their dates. Some might be having a quiet evening at home. You have prepared lies in case any work colleagues ask what you were doing on Friday. Because you are hardly going to tell them that you were bent over, being beaten on your bottom by a lady whose real name you dont even know. And thanked her afterward for the privilege. And left swearing never to return, to recapture your life. And knowing full well that next month you would be back here, waiting your turn, wishing things were otherwise. Even if you could bear the embarrassment of telling someonewhat could you possibly say, when they ask Why?? The caning has finished, and the sobs die away. There is a brief conversation. She likes to end with a few brief comments and reminders of the key areas on which she expects improvement. But no time is allowed for recovery: shorts are jerked back up, the door is flung open and the recipient must emerge still flushed in the face, sometimes still crying but in any event still tear-stained and dishevelled. He staggers through the room and out into the corridor, where he will quietly await the others. Again, there is no sound in the room but the tick-tocking of the clock. It shows she is running a little behind schedule. Probably, that means you will finish quite late, as she does not hurry and catch up the time. She takes whatever time is needed. Tick tock, tick tock. There is silence from behind the heavy wooden door. But soon it will be broken, when she calls the next name.
Page 58
Divinity Lessons Volume II Will it be yours? Youd like to get it over with. The sooner it is your name the better. You know that. Get it over with. But oh please oh please, let it be someone else, just this time. Not you. Not yet. Youre not ready just yet. Please. But that is not for you to decide. She is reading through a report in there right now, and there is a name on top of it. That is the name that will be called next, whatever you might want. If it is your name, she is thinking about you right now. If not, your name is waiting in the pile of reports before her. Youll find out soon. You just have to wait.
Page 59
In the morning
I think sometimes theres a delicious contrast between the awe and reverence we submissive males invest in the thought of our unequal mistress-slave relationships, and the matter-of-fact approach that our superiors take. This story plays with that idea. Its also a love story. Jennifer quietly stood at the door of the kitchen, having followed the aroma of breakfast cooking from her bedroom. Her husband/slave, Alan, standing naked but for a small pinafore which left his buttocks exposed to the air, hadnt heard her enter. She looked with satisfaction at her oblivious submissive, quietly getting on with serving her without specific instruction or fuss. This was how it should be. She caught sight of the marks on his lower left buttock, and she giggled softly. Alan looked around in shock, and instantly dropped to his knees, crawling over to her to place his face against the ground just before her feet. You may. she said quietly, after a moment, and he quickly placed light kisses on each of her feet, in the approved greeting. Im so sorry, Mistress, I didnt hear you come in he stuttered. She smiled down at him. Thats all right, I was just standing there. She looked down affectionately at the blackened marks on his buttocks: her initials JMV somewhat stretched and distorted by his kow-towing posture. She smiled again. You know, I just arrived at the kitchen door to see you preparing my breakfast so diligently, and I was so much reminded of the day of your branding. Do you know why? Alan nodded urgently. I think so Mistress. Its that in my servitude to you, I know you are with me always. That I am your slave, in attendance to your needs to the best of my poor abilities even when you are elsewhere, because I carry your name for ever. The terrible pain from those red-hot brands not only seared your name into my flesh but burnt it into my very soul, and made me yours at all times. Jennifer leaned down and stroked his hair gently, thinking of that day and her husbands desperate screams of agony and love. Actually, she had been going to say that it was the smell of grilling bacon that had so vividly taken her back to it. But a wise Mistress does not always tell her slave the whole truth, and so she merely murmured. Thats exactly right, my slave. How well you know my mind.
Page 60
Well deserving of the cane

I love this story because I get quite turned on by the thought of femdom scenes not being real, possibly because it adds to the humiliation to think that the female dominant is just doing it for money and doesnt have the slightest sexual interest in what is going on. Not everyones cup of tea, I know. Anyway, Ive done some bleak and depressing captions along those lines, but this story is more fun and friendly. It is heavily inspired by Dame school a wonderful story in a wonderful book The Queen of the Grove by Louise Malatesta. The only thing I dont like about it is the title, which is terrible! If you can suggest a better one, do leave a comment on the blog. Elizabeth Aldrige, known today as Miss Wackham, put down the piece of paper, sighed and looked up at the boy standing before her. Well, its not really good enough, is it? she asked, mildly. No, Miss the boy replied, looking down in shame. Like most of the 'boys' at Miss Flogswells Academy, he was in his late forties, greying and balding on top. Also like most of the boys, he looked quite ridiculous in his school uniform. But not as ridiculous as the girls, Miss Wackham reflected. I hope you dont think Ill be going easy on you just because it is your first time she said, sternly, wondering whether in fact she should do exactly that. Did this idiot realise what hed let himself in for? No, Miss Wackham the boy said, earnestly. As you know, we at the Flogswell Academy have strict standards for our pupils academic attainment, and enforce them on a weekly basis. Enforce them with corporal discipline, boy. Cor-por-al discipline. Yes, Miss Wackham he replied, breathing rather harder and going red. Elizabeth caught sight of his shorts, bulging right at her eye level and hurriedly looked back down at the report. It was all so complicated, she reflected. She much preferred her regular job in her dungeon. She would talk to the slaves beforehand, find their limits, push them occasionally until stopped by a warning safeword and then let them beg to come. Here, the rule was that the school fantasy was maintained at all times: no safewords, no out-of-character behaviourand strict school rules about appropriate punishment. Which, if followed to the letter, would probably constitute criminal assault in this case, she thought. Its really very simple she said, tiredly. Rote learning, boy, thats our system. Yes, Miss Wackham he said. The teacher tells you what to learn, you learn it, you repeat it in the test. Is that too complicated for you? II found some of the lessons very hard, Miss Wackham, the boy replied, sweating copiously and quite unpleasantly through his shirt. I didnt know it would be this difficult.
Page 61
Divinity Lessons Volume II Difficult! Elizabeth snorted. Lets go through and you can tell me how difficult it all was. History! You got a D-. Well thats just dates and things. How difficult is that? The comment says that you were told to learn the dates of sixteen of the Kings and Queens of England and you knew almost none of them. Didnt you bother to revise? I got the right years, Miss Wackham, the unhappy boy replied. I didnt realise they wanted the month and day, too. Pathetic snorted Miss Wackham. And what about this maths. D! Slow on your times tables! Which ones? The fourteen thousand, three hundred and fourteen times table, Miss Wackham. And the nine elevenths times table. Miss Wackham peered at him over her glasses. Not very good at sums then, boy? No, Miss he replied. Thinking of sums, she briefly reflected on the sums she needed to accumulate in order to retire from all this. Shed hoped to have given it all up by now, and moved to that long dreamed-of little cottage in Bournemouth. Maybe open a pet supplies shop. Shed been saving away her hard-won tribute for a few years, and had quite a little nest egg put aside. Until the financial crisis had come along, swept up the nest , eggs and all, and smashed everything to little pieces. So here she was still whacking the bottoms of aging perverts for a living, and likely to be doing so for quite a few years to come. What about this, then modern languages? E-. Dreadful! Was that with Madame Sarka? She says here you didnt learn any of the poetry she set. Not a single line without a mistake in it! Yes Miss he said, seeming close to tears. But I dont speak any Czech. But you dont have to know any Czech! she replied, exasperated. Madame Sarka set you some poetry to learn, and you learn it. You learn it in Czech, you write it down in Czech in the test. Thats what rote learnings all about we dont care if you understand it or not! The boy just hung his head in shame. Now by comparison, biology isnt too bad Miss Wackham said, judiciously. B-. But then Miss Hardpalm has given you a black mark for she squinted at the report Refusal to take part in scientific experiments with the rest of the class. What scientific experiments? She was demonstrating the location of the bodys principal pain receptors, Miss, he replied with a shudder. You do know disruptive behaviour in class merits an automatic use of the cane? Miss Wackham inquired. He hung his head still further. And this last onehome economics. F. F! How could you get an F in home economics? Thats just cookery, isnt it? Went to the wrong classroom, Miss he muttered. One of the girls told me it was in classroom 7. Then when I finally got to the right classroom, I -
Page 62
Divinity Lessons Volume II got angry and emptied the lasagne shed been making all over her head. read Miss Wackham, shaking her head over the report. She had to go to matron to be cleaned up, Miss. Knowing the girl in question, Miss Wackham privately thought that both the treatment in the cookery class, and matrons likely cleansing techniques were probably the least that she deserved. Still, couldnt have unruly behaviour. Of course, 'hazing' new arrivals by getting them in trouble was a tradition. Give them a taste of the cane. The trouble was, this new arrival had already been due for a fivecourse banquet of the cane before being dropped in it so comprehensively by his cross-dressing classmate. So you spent the rest of the lesson in the corner, and got an F for home economics and a black mark a second black mark for disruptive behaviour. And I had to clean up the mess over lunch break, Miss the boy added. "Miss Birch said I could eat the uncooked lasagne for my lunch. He blenched slightly at the memory. Well. I dont think Ive ever seen a daily report like this. she said, shaking her head sadly. The B- in Biology only merits the strap, but all the other grades mean the cane. And each count of disruptive behaviour is twelve strokes. Altogether, itll belet me see. Well, sixteen strokes with the strap, obviously. But then thatll be " she calculated silently for an instant =fifty-eight strokes with the cane. Oh Christ, please no he burst out. Plus four for swearing takes us to sixty -two she said quietly. Oh come on for Chr- , I mean for mercys sake. Its only a game. Real tears were forming in his eyes. It most certainly is not a game. She replied, primly. Miss Flogswell was quite clear that there would be no negotiations or slipping out of character where the subject of discipline was concerned. This was what marked the establishment out, unlike those jolly japes schools in the North of England, where everyone was cheeking teacher all the time and laughing about jolly good whackings. This was hard-core. Very hard core. Stillshe thought about sixty-two strokes. She knew very well what the cane could do, and to do it sixty-two times on the same area of the body was going to cause some serious damage. Oh please he sobbed, the tears coming fast and furiously now. Its my very first time. Couldnt you just go a little bit easy for my very first time? Ive got to go to work on Monday morning, you know? Well Miss Wackham said, slowly, thinking hard. She didn't really want to flog this new client off the school books. Maybe she could pretend to be using a triplehard cane or something and only give him twenty ? Ive got to get in extra early on Monday, actually, while Tokyo is still open. he added hurriedly, sensing some possible movement. Really? Miss Wackham replied with interest. What job do you do? Im in finance the boy replied. Actually looking a little proud I manage a hedge fund.
Page 63
Divinity Lessons Volume II Really. Miss Wackham said again, grimly. She thought of her little nest egg. And of the cottage in Bournemouth. Her hand tightened on the handle of the cane. Well, Im sorry, boy, but I can tolerate no exceptions to the rules. Sixty -two with the cane. On the bare, I think. Then Ill finish you off with sixteen with the strap. Shorts down and bend over that chair! But I - NOW boy!
Page 64
Bloggy, femdomy story thing

Servitor read the message on his Blogger dashboard with interest:
Blogger has determined that your posts reflect a female domination/male submissive outlook. Would you like to turn on Bloggers femdom features, for a more female-led blogging experience?
A little concerned by the apparent monitoring of his posts, but intrigued, he clicked on the link at the bottom: Activate female domination blogging features now. A pop-up box appeared:
Blogger has identified that you are male. Please confirm, or press cancel to begin again.
Servitor confirmed, only to be confronted with another message box.

Are you sure you want to activate female domination features as a male blogger?
Worse than bloody Microsoft, he thought, clicking Yes irritably. After a few moments, a further message appeared, this time from his own PC, asking whether he would allow some programme called Femlogger to make changes to his programme files and registry. Servitor hesitated, realising a cautious blogger might refuse at this point. But he was intrigued and excited, and thought of the occasions on which similar feelings had led him to the houses of complete strangers to be tied up. He was nothing if not a risk-taker. Although we like to be abused as cowardly worms, theres actually no one as brave as a submissive feeling lecherous. So he clicked on Accept and watched what happened. The answer, except for some brief whirring and chunking from his hard drive, was nothing. The Blogger dashboard reappeared, and Servitor could see no changes. Nor were there apparent changes to his blog. He tried to find out more about Femlogger on the web, but there seemed to be nothing. Shrugging, Servitor returned to his original intentions, uploading pictures of women too beautiful for him even to imagine speaking to, but with a few choice words he had added in the hope of appearing creative. For the next couple of days, there was no real change. Servitor noticed that the Audience stats for his blog separately recorded visits by males, females and those unregistered as either (and these were the great majority, although Servitor was cheered and excited at the thought that quite a few women did seem to have registered with the new female domination Blogger service). Then, four days later, Servitor was excited to find that one of his posts had attracted several comments. With the usual trepidation, he opened the tab to read them. The display looked slightly odd, as one of the comments was in larger type than the others. This, the one at the top, turned out to be flagged as from a woman, while the others were from men. Servitor suddenly realised that despite being at the top, the time stamp on the womans comment showed it to have been posted in between the
Page 65
Divinity Lessons Volume II other two. Thus, the software was identifying female comments and placing them first, just as it should be. Servitor felt mildly pleased that his blog should so automatically be honouring the superior sex, as he did genuinely believe in principle in showing due deference and courtesy to females. The picture right at the bottom of every page of his blog, of the divine Anne Hathaway, was to Servitors mind genuinely an image of divinity and one to which he occasionally murmured prayers of obeisance. That said, he spent a lot of his time trawling the Internet for pictures of women scantily-clad or even posing naked, solely for the sexual pleasure of men. But like other male submissives, Servitor happily ignored the hypocrisy of how an industry existed to serve up tasty images of superiors to inferior males like him, rather than the opposite that might be expected in a truly female-led world. All the comments were reasonably complimentary. Servitor decided to post a quick friendly response to one of the male ones, before addressing himself more formally to the female commenter. Important to get the words and tone right, for that one, he thought to himself. Still happily mulling over his possible reply to the female, he clicked post comment to put up his reply to the first male comment. An error page appeared: There are still
unanswered female comments.
Puzzled, Servitor clicked the back button and tried again. Again, the message appeared, this time with the addition: This has been logged as a repeated offence. Servitor sat in silence for a while. Clearly, he was supposed to respond to the female comment before any males'. Again, feeling a warm glow of submissive joy (and even a slight swelling, although we wont dwell on this aspect) he returned to the comments page to reply instead to his female commenter. After some edits, he judged he had the tone just right. He was never quite sure how to respond to female dominant comments. He wanted to reply in submissive mode, but not so much as to be creepy or pervy. The comment had been a simple message of approval and encouragement, so he felt it would be inappropriate to respond as if he were a sub in a scene with her. That would seem almost to violate her privacy. So after a few goes, he had some text that seemed respectful without being creepy and he hit post comment. Again, an error screen appeared. This time the words were much larger. Your reply has been flagged as unacceptably disrespectful, the large words across the top of the screen read.
Please correct the following elements of your post and try again. 1. Insufficient length (more information) 2. Insufficiently grateful (more information) 3. Spelling and grammatical errors (more information)
He clicked on more information following the first item, to learn t hat replies had to be at least one and a half times the length of the original comment, to show due respect and gratitude to the lady who had taken the trouble to write it. Similarly, clicking on the second item he was taken to a list of approved words of gratitude, of
Page 66
Divinity Lessons Volume II which a sufficient number was required in any reply to a female. He thought the spelling mistakes point was self-explanatory. Returning to his reply, he dutifully filled it out with expressions of gratitude and, to be on the safe side, made sure it was at least twice the length of the comment. He looked carefully through for spelling and grammatical errors, but found nun. Once again he clicked post comment. He was disturbed to see the same words appear again: Your reply has been flagged as unacceptably disrespectful, along with (as he was beginning to learn to expect) the rider This has been logged as a repeated offence. The only problem seemed still to be with spelling and grammar, so he clicked on more information. The rules for appropriate spelling and grammar appeared to be more complicated than hed expected. Mostly, he was simply required to conform to ordinary English usage. However, every blogger registered as a female dominant by the software apparently had her own preferred form of address. His commenter liked to be addressed as Maam, conventionally enough. She could also register whether she preferred vanilla capitalisation or the You/i formulation that denotes submission. Maam liked the latter, it seemed. Finally, she could choose her preferred regional spelling. His commenter, it turned out, was American and so he would be replying to her (or rather, to Her) using American spellings where appropriate. If his reply failed to conform to her (Her) preferences, it would be flagged as incorrect. Sighing slightly, he went back to his post and edited in the required changes. With relief, he was directed this time to a new page: Your comment has been humbly submitted for Maams attention. He returned to the male posts, fired off fri endly messages of acknowledgement (no funny business about length or style for these anything went, apparently) and went back to his main page. He felt he had to admire the spirit behind this new software. He admitted to himself that he found it irritating in practice. But this, it seemed to him, was not really any different from the way he became excited at the thought of housework, only to become bored and frustrated when directed to do menial tasks even for 10 minutes, on the occasions he had visited (and paid) ladies prepared to act out his fantasies. Fantasy and reality were simply different for him, and he wished it were otherwise but knew deep down that he was too lazy ever really to serve. Anyway, he told himself, now that he knew the rules, replying to comments in the prescribed way was no great burden. He might not be able in reality to enjoy anything resembling a life of drudgery, but this was one small thing he could do. Maam did not respond, and so Servitor continued over the next few days posting captioned images that continued to claim to celebrate male submission but in reality mostly showed underpaid women pandering to the fantasies of wealthy men. Then one day he opened up Blogger to find himself taken straight to the comments page. A single comment was visible, the others being greyed-out (thatll be grayedout to Maam, of course). A bold headline above it read Your blog has been criticised
by a female reader. The posting has been removed, pending apology and corrective action.
Page 67
The comment above, did indeed have a label unacceptable. (Servitor was later to discover that his posts now appeared on female screens with a rating system running from adequate, through poor to unacceptable). He read the comment with excitement and awe:
Servitor (or whatever your real name is I imagine you as a nasty little overweight man crouched over his computer in a darkened, smelly room). I have found the images you post to be increasingly disrespectful of a sex you claim to be superior my sex! The images are exploitative and the captions while occasionally mildly amusing seem to me too frequently to cross the line to a point where you are laughing at female domination, a philosophy and practice I take very seriously. Your latest post is disgraceful, so I am forced to take action. We see two images of females, which I suppose is the justification for the jokey sexist title Oh what a lovely pair. The first is simply posing in lingerie for male pleasure, and your little caption about chastity does nothing to diminish the exploitation. But the second picture is far more disturbing. Is it not obvious that the lady is in extreme discomfort in that corset and those high heels? Far from being in charge, I would imagine she is close to fainting, the poor thing. I would like to put you in a corset, tug it so tight you can hardly breathe, force your feet into rigid boots at least a size too small, and post a video of your pathetic wheezing on YouTube. But as you choose to hide behind your hypocritical pseudonym, I cannot. However, I was somewhat mollified to see that you have installed the Fond of Writing gadget on your blog. Accordingly, I have sent you a punitive exercise. I hope it teaches you to show greater respect. I have disabled replies to this post as I have no wish to hear any more from you. Punitor
Servitor looked down at the bottom of the comment and saw that reply had indeed been greyed-out. Furthermore, the name Punitor did not seem to be linked to a Google account. Clearly, ladies could comment anonymously. There were only two options available in the comments tab: accept punishment and dispute punishment. Servitor had little hesitation in selecting the first. How exciting. He had to admit she had a point. He tried to be reasonably respectful never for example featuring images of topless ladies, or of their private parts on his blog. But the fact that it was the supposedly dominant side of the equation who dressed to the nines in uncomfortable clothing, for the pleasure of the slobby notionally submissive side did bother him. A windowed programme opened up, labelled Fond of Writing. That was the name that Punitor had claimed existed as a gadget on his blog. He had never seen it, but he was beginning to suspect that the female user experience of his blog provided a few more options than were available to him or other males.
Fond of Writing (FoW) was a programme for writing lines. Rather like housework, this
was an idea that Servitor liked more in fantasy than in reality. His professional Domme had occasionally set him lines anything from 200 to, over one tedious
Page 68
Divinity Lessons Volume II night, 500 and he always hated doing them. He loved appearing before her with his sheaf of papers on his next visit, though, for her to grind under her booted heel. So he examined FoW with interest. It seemed that a specified line must be typed, a specified number of times. Extras would be added for errors. On completion of the assignment, a report would be sent to the assigning party (that would be Punitor presumably). It looked straightforward enough, and Servitor had some time on his hands (it was a Saturday), so with a warm and sexy feeling of submission, he clicked on start. The line he had to copy was I must learn to distinguish between images and concepts
that properly reflect the superiority of women over men, from those that merely objectify and exploit the female form, to gratify the squalid desires of perverts like me. It seemed he would be writing it 100 times.
He blinked. It was long and complicated but 100 times was not too bad. He started typing in the text box below the original line. It was harder than he had expected, as his own typing was replaced by asterisks as he typed, like a password. He clicked submit and the entry box appeared again, cursor blinking for his next repetition. As he typed, he suddenly realised that the asterisks were no longer progressing along the box. It seemed to have lost the typing focus. He clicked back on it, but no blinking cursor appeared. Looking around the screen, he saw a small dialog box in the corner with the message Click this button! What button? he thought irritably, before notici ng a tiny square in the middle of the dialog box. Carefully positioning the mouse, he clicked it, the box disappeared and his cursor reappeared where he had been typing the line. Where was I? he thought, staring at the asterisks. There werent that many , so he decided to start again, and began hitting backspace. Nothing happened, no asterisks disappeared. Cursing, he carefully counted the asterisks already typed, comparing them to the original line. Then he typed the remainder of the line, interrupted at one point by the random dialog box wanting him to press the microscopic button, this time near the left of the screen. On completion of the line, he clicked submit, and the text entry box appeared empty again for a third line. Bloody hell, thats only two he thought, unhappily. In fact, he was wrong about this. He had carelessly made an error on his very first line (ironically, the second despite being interrupted twice by distracting dialogs, was correct). The programme had not counted that first line, and awarded him two extras. So he now had 101 lines to go and in a sense had therefore completed just minus one lines of his original imposition. But he didnt know that yet. Sod this he thought, and clicked on quit. A dialog box appeared: Quit disabled while lines exercise incomplete. There were two options: OK and Allow temporary use of other programmes. He clicked OK to return to the Fond of Writing dialog and immediately hit ControlAlt-Delete. Another dialog box appeared. Ctrl-Alt-Del disabled while lines exercise incomplete. Again: OK and Allow temporary use of other programmes .
Page 69
Servitor pressed the On switch on his PC until all the lights died, then pressed again for a restart. That programme is going he told himself determinedly, and t hought about whether his various virus and malware programmes would be able to deal with it. He logged on, and was simply stunned to see the Fond of Writing dialog reappear, patiently waiting for his third line just as he had left it. He double-clicked his anti-virus icon. A familiar image appeared: Access to other
programmes disabled while lines exercise incomplete.
This time he tried clicking: Allow temporary use of other programmes This responded with Do you want to be given access for one hour to your computer, in
exchange for 50 additional lines?
All right, he thought, and clicked OK.

Fond of Writing temporarily suspended. Time remaining until resumption of line writing exercise: 59:54. Exercises remaining: 1. Lines remaining in current exercise: 151.
Pausing only briefly to note, firstly, that the evil programme clearly allowed for more than one exercise to be due at any one time, and to puzzle over the mysterious extra line taking the remainder to 151 (shouldnt it be 148?, he thought vaguely ), Servitor went to work to expunge the programme. Just less than an hour later, all his open windows suddenly closed and the Fond of Writing dialog reappeared, the little cursor gently blinking in the empty text entry box, just as it had been before, patiently awaiting his third line. Servitor swore and raced through the menu commands again for temporary computer time. He had some other ideas he hadnt yet tried. This time the price of an hours computer time had risen to 100 additional lines. Blithely a ccepting the 251 he now had yet to do, Servitor frantically opened programmes and searched for hidden and system files, in a bid to shut this evil programme down. An hour later, he found himself once again staring at the cursor. He resolved to use his next hour to go online, looking for advice and help about this maliciously dominant programme. He wondered bleakly whether the cost this time would be an additional 200, taking him to 451 (he had now worked out what the extra one was for, having read the help files for FoW in his fruitless search for an uninstall option). But it was not an additional 200. Instead the dialog box read: Maximum temporary
suspensions limit reached. Contacting taskmistress for authorization for additional temporary suspension.
The only option was OK so Servitor clicked it and was rewarded with a dialog box reading Punitor has now been contacted to authorize suspension of lines programme. No other programmes may be used until authorization has been received . Once again, Servitors only option was to agree, so he returned to the text entry box. For want of anything more constructive to do, he began typing the line. For one thing
Page 70
Divinity Lessons Volume II he needed access to some documents from work that he said he would look at over the weekend. Servitor typed away. It was repetitive and tedious. He grew to hate the little distracting dialog box, swearing viciously at it and hammering his mouse button down, when he finally managed to position the cursor over the button. He made steady progress, seeing little choice if he was to do any of the things work-related and personal for which he had planned to use his computer this weekend. After about an hour and a half, a message popped up on screen. Reply from Punitor.
Request denied. Punishment doubled.
He swore vigorously, but found himself curiously inhibited from using the words such as bitch that came into his mind. In a curious, but totally genuine way, he really was being dominated by this distant woman, and every click of the button labelled submit was in its way a genuine submission. It took him until late that evening before he had completed the assignment. In an unexpected moment of pure joy, the message Task completed. Do you wish to view the report? appeared. Servitor clicked Yes and noted with grim satisfaction that in the end he had written 612 lines as a result of his 100-line punishment. 500 lines set in all, and presumably 56 errors. And that probably didnt count the 56 themselves, he realised, so he had actually typed something resembling that stupid line 668 times. Wearily he switched off his computer now wonderfully restored to his control and went to bed. Servitor did not update his blog for several days after that, fearing even to look into the comments tab. However, on the Thursday, he was greeted with the dreaded sight of the Fond of Writing programme, informing him that a lady reader called Ayesha was displeased about this, as she enjoyed his material, and was requiring him to write out I must update my blog more frequently. 50 times. 50 was not too bad, and the line was short, and furthermore Servitor discovered with joy that he could see the line as he typed it no asterisks and the irritating distraction dialog appeared much less frequently. Clearly, these were options set by the user. This time, it seemed, he was receiving nothing more than a gentle reminder, and he found himself actually enjoying the submission to this mysterious and rather wonderful Ayesha, as he typed them. Not requiring any temporary suspensions, and making few mistakes, Servitor was finished in less than an hour. Mindful of the warning, though, he resumed blogging, although he was much more careful not to feature images of women in excessively restrictive clothing or in any other way obviously being exploited. He received punitive impositions from time to time. Few if any were as bad as his first experience, however (most of which was his own fault, the original tally having been 100). One occasional reader of his blog liked to set him lines in Czech, whenever
Page 71
Divinity Lessons Volume II she came across a post that she thought could be improved. She did not set very many, but Servitor had to concentrate hard as he wrote them. She did not supply translations so he had no idea what lesson he was being taught, but accepted it with good grace. On another occasion, a British lady set him 2000 lines a horrific surprise that he knew would take him several days. However, it was obvious from her comment that she had intended only 200 and had made an error using the FoW gadget. Servitor had emailed her with great trepidation, gently pointing out the possible error. He had spent a few hours in agonised anticipation, fearing that for questioning her authority he would receive 4000 or 20,000 or any other number (as far as he could tell, Fond of Writing could accept any number of repetitions up to 99999 and more scarily still could impose any number of extras up to this limit for each mistake.) But to his relief, she accepted the point with good grace, merely increasing the imposition to 300 to provide - as she so excitingly put it - a little tap on the bottom for the impertinence. And so it went on, for about eight months. Until one day, Servitors dashboard opened with a new message. Femlogger now updated to 2.0. Click here for details of features. Your Dreamlover kit has been dispatched and must be installed within 48 hours of this message being displayed, for continued computer access. Dreamlover? Servitor thought. He clicked the link Notes:
Fond of Writing is real. The features described here (asterisks, additional lines for
mistakes and most evil of all that little distraction dialog) are all real. I understand it also sends reports to the task-setter by email, as here. However, the real programme does NOT (of course!) hijack your computer, render itself impossible to uninstall or in any other way behave like the malware described here. I thought of making the compulsion element of the story stronger by letting the programme ransack Servitors hard drive and threaten to blackmail him or something if he didnt finish the lines. But Ive already made this sweet, sexy little programme sound like the worst virus ever, so I didnt want to malign it further. I am not sure whether Dreamlover is real or not. The website has been going some years, and contains multiple strong (and truly excellent) fantasy elements. For a long time, I thought it was a delightful fantasy, realised in wonderful detail, but the more recent posts about construction in China do actually start to make it sound like a real product. Once again, though, I remind readers that in these stories everything is fantasy in essence. The programmes, people and weird sexual practices in my stories are fictional and in some cases impossible. Thats what fiction means: making stuff up.
Page 72
Servitor, 2013

Divinity Lessons - Volume II

Uploaded by

Document Information

Original Title

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

Divinity Lessons - Volume II

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

Divinity Lessons: Volume 1I

A collection of female domination-themed stories from Contemplating The Divine By Servitor

Divinity Lessons Volume II

Mistress Valerie and Sandra

Divinity Lessons Volume II

At the third stroke

Divinity Lessons Volume II

Eight out of ten Mistresses say their slaves prefer it

Divinity Lessons Volume II

Divinity Lessons Volume II

Divinity Lessons Volume II

Divinity Lessons Volume II

If at first you dont succeed

Divinity Lessons Volume II

The elves and the dominatrices

Divinity Lessons Volume II

Did you make your quota this week? No?

Divinity Lessons Volume II

Take me to your Mistress

Divinity Lessons Volume II

Rewards and penalties

Divinity Lessons Volume II

Divinity Lessons Volume II

The only thing worse

Divinity Lessons Volume II

Love and marriage

Divinity Lessons Volume II

Divinity Lessons Volume II

Divinity Lessons Volume II

Divinity Lessons Volume II

Divinity Lessons Volume II

Divinity Lessons Volume II

Divinity Lessons Volume II

Janine. Isn't she sweet?

Divinity Lessons Volume II

You cant always get what you want

Divinity Lessons Volume II

Divinity Lessons Volume II

Divinity Lessons Volume II

Well deserving of the cane

Divinity Lessons Volume II

Bloggy, femdomy story thing

Servitor confirmed, only to be confronted with another message box.

Divinity Lessons Volume II

Divinity Lessons Volume II

All right, he thought, and clicked OK.

You might also like