And the next day she had me call my old friend, tell him that I had become the slave of a woman – her personal human doormat – and explain the situation to him. He accepted her invitation, and the next day, Grace had me clear all of the furniture out of the living room, remove all the decorations, leave it utterly bare. That evening, Mack showed up at the house of the woman I served.
“I don’t know who the hell you are, Miss, but I find it personally disgusting what you’re doing to my friend. That’s why I’m accepting your invitation to a three-way duel. I’m not going to fucking toy with you cause you’re a lady, I hope you understand. I’m personally offended at how bad you’ve pussy-whipped my friend; I think you degrade his masculinity; I think you–”
“He HAS no masculinity, buddy, and from the looks of it, neither do you. Now shut up and let’s get it on.”
Mack glared at her. I could tell he was steaming. Grace removed her pants and her shirt — stripped down to a tight sportsbra and underwear. One of our advance agreements was that no-one would wear shoes; that they could be used as weapons, which were forbidden. Mack pulled off his boots.
“I see you’re trying to psyche us out with your pretty, feminine bod. Pretty slick, babe, but I can do the same.”
He removed his T-shirt, and stripped down to his underwear: black jockey shorts, which strained to support remarkably large balls and a thick, lengthy cock. I undressed last, feeling my manhood diminished by comparison to his.
For a very brief moment, the three of us stood still. My head was swimming; I felt nervous about what might happen. I was worried for Grace: worried that after we subdued her, Mack wouldn’t be able to control himself. If she hit him even once, would I be able to restrain hold him back? I had fit into my role as a sub really comfortably; would I be able to continue serving a dom who I had taken part in physically dominating? Could her speeches about male inferiority continue to ring true for me after I’d seen her getting beat up and raped by an old friend of mine?
As these thoughts criss-crossed in a silly maze in my head, Grace stepped up to Mack with an expression of utter stillness and threw a flurry of punches – at least five – that landed on his right cheek, his left eye, his mouth, and his solar plexus. He was rocked backwards – totally taken off guard. He groaned, bend forward with his arms now up as sheilds. My dom turned to me briefly, and pounded my jaw with a right hook that felt like a ton of cement. I fell to the floor.
I turned back, and through the lights glimmering in my vision I saw Grace continuing to clobber Mack with lightning-fast combinations. He was staggering; he wasn’t able to fight back at all, he was just holding up his arms in a flaccid effort to try to deflect her blows. This hardly worked, though; his arms couldn’t cover all of the targets she found as her combinations became fancier, more resourceful.
In a few seconds she had him up against the wall; she was thoroughly drilling him, and I began to hear deep, masculine sobs come from him. And something in me broke, seeing my old buddy trashed like -this strong, muscle-bound male figure being ravaged by this slender, cunning woman. I became enraged: I lurched across the floor, grabbed Grace by the legs, and pulled her onto the floor.
After a few quick seconds of wrestling – in which she drove a knee into my stomach, pounded an upper-cut into my nose causing it to squirt blood – she had me pinned to the floor, and proceded to wail on me with her fists which, like Mack’s face and my own – were now bloodied.
And then Mack rejoined the struggle, in what would prove to be the very last effort either of us men could manage. He moved up silently behind Grace, and punched her in the back of the head. But he was weak – really already defeated by Grace’s clear superiority in face-to-face fist-fighting – and his blow was ineffectual.
Grace bounded off me, spun around, and landed the five finishing blows to Mack’s chest and face. Mack tottered vertiginously, then toppled backwards onto the carpet. His body shook in massive, heaving sobs.
“Get on your knees, Mack,” Grace ordered him.
With his voice garbled by tears and a swollen mouth, he replied, “Fuck you!”
Originally posted 2009-01-30 15:00:45.
She sat with her childhood photo album, occasionally stripping away the plastic sheet to remove a shot.
Wearing tight, white Fruit-of-the-Loom underwear – and nothing else – I scrubbed the hardwood floor of her apartment. I heard the sound of another photograph being ripped up.
She tossed the shredded bits of FujiFilm paper onto the floor, and I hustled over to collect them, and put them in the trash bin. She didn’t like her place to get messy – even when she was creating the mess.
I looked at the fragmentary images as I gathered them from the floor: her father, her uncle, her older brother – whom she used to routinely beat up – her step-father, an old boyfriend…
“If only I could’ve known then,” she said, “What I know now.”
I was silent. I could just imagine her, a sixteen-year-old, sitting in a car with some poor, love-struck chump: he – his hand trembling – reaching over to kiss her – a shy, inexperienced boy – and she plunging her tongue into the full depth of his mouth, pressing her hand into his crotch, gripping his balls and demanding, “Big enough for me, boy?” -his surprised whimper mingling with her full, proud laugh. She mounting his erection, pounding her hips against his prone body, tugging his hair back to see his face of submission. Moments later smacking him around for ejaculating too soon – beating him to tears for not satisfying her. Grabbing him by the balls, demanding one good reason why she should let a flaccid twerp like him go on pretending to be a man – in her world. Why she should -
She yelled at me: the buzzer in the kitchen had gone off. I felt myself begin shaking. I scrambled to my feet to take her cake out of the oven. I tried to get into the kitchen as fast as I could, but she bounded off of the bed and intercepted me at the kitchen door.
“I told you not to let it burn, you fucking moron!”
I was shaking; I felt myself go pale.
“I’m sorry: I was…I was trying to clean a spot off the floor, so I-”
“That’s no fucking excuse!”
She reached around my head and grabbed the back of my hair. She jerked my head back violently – I heard myself let out a cry – then she smacked my cheek with her palm. My face stung.
“You brainless, fucking coward! You miserable, stupid goon! How dare you ignore my demands!”
I quivered: I knew that wasn’t the end of it. She slammed her fist into my stomach, and – gasping for air – I doubled over. Gripping my hair with both of her hands, she held my head right in front of her pussy. She pounded the back of my head with her hand three times, then held my face there — right in front of her pussy — for about a minute. Then she spoke again.
“Put your hands on the floor.”
I felt tears well up in my eyes: I knew what was coming. Dutifully, I touched my fingers against the floor while keeping my legs straight. I stayed like that – bent over – while she went to the closet. About two minutes later, I heard her footsteps move up behind me.
She stripped down my underwear. I was crying; I heard myself beg: “Don’t,” I was saying, “Please don’t, Ma’am, please don’t – I’m not so bad, Ma’am…please don’t…”
She wasn’t listening. She was smearing jelly on the twelve inch dildo strapped around her waist. While I continued my whimpering, she reached around my waist and grabbed my testicles.
“You fucked up again, boy.”
With my masculinity being crunched in her fist, I felt the tip of her rod between my cheeks.
“You need to be reminded.”
I couldn’t stop shaking. She held my balls with one hand, and a lock of my hair with the other. Pulling back my head, she slammed into me: she broke the gates of my body, and laughed as I tried to muffle my scream. On the first thrust, she hammered the dildo into me to the hilt. I felt like I was being ripped apart inside – my whole backside hurt terribly, almost up to my stomach. She pulled half way out, then pounded into me again. I heard myself wailing as she pulled out, then impaled me again; pulled out, then drove into me again…
When she finally got bored of me weeping and begging, she pulled out all the way. I fell to the floor, clutching at my body. After she removed the strap-on, then grabbed me by the arm and forced me to lie on my back, facing up at her. She yanked my legs apart, exposing my limp, limp cock. My jelly-like balls. And she moved down on me, laying her hot, moist vagina against my genitals. She grabbed a lock of my hair, forcing me to make eye contact with her, then slapped me across the face. She pounded her mons against my penis, then reached down and yanked at my testicles, only releasing them right before, I’m sure, they were about to come off. She spat at me:
She made me get hard, then she raped me. When she was done, she made me finish cleaning the floor.
By the time I was done cleaning the floor, the cake was completely burned. She took it out of the oven; she removed it from the pan, set it on a plate, then placed it on the floor. Its charred surface still smoking, she made me sit on it – nude – for thirty-five minutes: the exact time it should have been in the oven.
While the cake burned against my ass and my scrotum, she took several Polaroids of me sitting there. She put the Polaroids in her photo album, replacing the old pictures of the men she had ripped up.
Originally posted 2009-01-21 15:00:01.
I became anxious toward bedtime. We still hadn’t spoken, but I knew that we would have some sort of confrontation in bed. She would want me to have sex with her, but I was wounded; I felt like she had totally humbled me – buried my masculinity in inferiority. And I didn’t know how to approach her. How could I be aggressive now? I was obviously not the sexually dominant party. And how much could I deliver anyway? But if she made moves on me, I would feel like I had to redeem myself. And I felt like my sexuality wasn’t enough for her; after the work-out earlier in the day, how could I possibly fulfill her now? Her vagina would devour me, and I’d just leave her unsatisfied again. What would she do then? She had gotten really impatient with me earlier; what if she got more impatient now? I recognized two kinds of feelings in myself now: Anger at her for belittling me, even if it was deserved: and fear. For the first time, I recognized that I was afraid of a woman. She had the power to make me feel totally inadequate. There was no way I could take away her femininity, but she – a strong woman – could strip me of my masculinity with just a few moments in the sack. I felt, looking back on it, that when she stopped me into the doorway and rubbed her hand from my asshole across my balls, pressing them against my body with her palm, that she was telling me: “David, when you couldn’t handle me earlier today – when I gripped your useless little nuts – I castrated you. I castrated you.” Getting ready for bed – the two of us still in silence – I felt like a eunuch.
She lay in bed, naked. The only light on was my reading lamp. I stood at the side of the bed, and realized that if I didn’t take off my boxers, it would be stupid. I would look ridiculous – I always slept naked, as did she. So I pulled down my boxers. As I reached for the light – before getting into bed – I saw her staring at my crotch. At my flaccid penis. She had a look of hostile disappointment.
I lay on my back, rigidly. I began to think she was just going to let me go to sleep, without trying to have sex with my again. But then, while my mind slowly dissolved into sleep, while I lay on my side facing away from her, I felt her turn over, and she banged her knee against my ass. I was jolted into fearful awakeness. Although she had definitely kneed me – definitely wanted me to hurt a little – I didn’t say anything. I wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened. But then it happened again: harder. And – maybe it was the darkness, maybe it was my total confusion about what was going on – I felt tears well up in my eyes. I prayed that she would just think, OK, I’ve punished him enough; I’ll let him sleep. But then she did it again – this time making sure to drive her knee evenly between my buttocks (but mercifully not striking my balls). Against my will, I cried out.
“What’s the matter, David? Hm?”
She moved up to me, pressed herself against me. I could feel her firm breasts pushing into my back. She made a couple of little thrusts against my ass with her pelvis, then reached around my waist for my testicles.
“Something wrong, little baby?”
I instinctively pressed my legs together, trying to prevent her from touching my balls. I sandwiched them between my legs hard – it hurt, but I felt safer. She instantly recognized what I was doing, and yanked ferociously on my penis. Again letting the illusion of “masculinity” slip away, I cried out. She laughed, and tugged me more. But I realized she could wail on my penis all she wanted; it was, compared to my balls, invulnerable. I kept my legs closed, even if crushing my nuts slightly.
She would have none of it. Of course my scrotum was still partly exposed, and she drove her fingernails into it, until I had to yield to her. I was starting to cry; I opened my legs for her, and she was not in the least bit merciful because I surrendered: she grabbed my nuts in her fist and chuckled.
“Are you going to fuck me now, David? Are you going to pretend to be a man and satisfy me, or am I going to take the broomstick from the closet, gag you with a fucking towel, then ream you until you bleed all over the floor?”
I heard myself whimpering, and I heard her laughing.
“You’re such a little wimp, David. I should never have gotten involved with a boy as dickless as you. I could eat your little nuts for a snack.”
I heard myself weeping. She held me around the waist, gripping my weak masculine flesh – utterly dominating me.
“If only some of your boyfriends were over, David. Maybe then I’d get satisfied; I’d screw them all one at a time – hell, two at a time – then make you slurp their cum from my asshole, then fuck you silly with them all watching what a dickless little twerp you are.”
She laughed, then bit my on the back of the neck. I cried out; I felt like she broke skin, made me bleed.
“Wait!” she shouted, “Wait a minute here. Men are supposed to be stronger in battle, aren’t they? Men are supposed to have greater upper body strength than women. And if you forget their little nuts” – she gave mine an extra squeeze, making my insides jump – “they’ve got a HUGE edge over women, don’t they?”
She lept off the bed, then commanded me to get to my feet. When I lay there quivering, afraid to move, she slapped my face with her palm, HARD.
“Get on your feet, stupid boy! Get on your fucking feet!”
Originally posted 2009-01-15 15:00:05.
Trade a Story or Excerpt for a Link
Wanted stories, vignettes focusing on:
- Chastity, Orgasm Denial
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Let me publish something by your or extracts from some a F/m story or novel that you’ve written. I’ll be happy to link to your blog and or ebook. Full credit and copyright stated.
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Originally posted 2011-11-05 14:59:40.
And what happened after that is still sort of a daze. she told me she wanted me to engage in hand-to-hand combat with her, to prove whether women were really superior to men, or whether I was just a bad example of man. She promised me she wouldn’t use my groin against me, and ordered me to use everything within my power to beat her up. If I could beat her, she would never, ever, speak or act disrespectfully toward me again. And, with that preamble, she engaged me in combat.
She circled me – I was still rather dazed – and took a couple of swipes at my head. They landed, but I didn’t feel any worse for it; I felt like I had already lost, and was just waiting for her to take me down and obliterate me. She grabbed me by the arm, twisted it behind me, put her foot around my ankles and tripped me to the floor. When I was down, afraid to get back up, she slammed her foot into my rear end four times in rapid succession. I howled in pain and humiliation. Then she bent down and slammed her fist into my mouth: instantly I tasted blood, mingled with tears.
“Oh, you’re lost, boy! You’re just like all men, David! You’re a puny, wormy little coward!”
I felt her trying to drag me to my feet – no doubt she hadn’t had enough fun with me yet. She got me standing, then pounded my shoulders a few times. I felt myself swaying this way and that, nearly falling over.
“Take a swing at me, David! Go for it! Try to hurt me, little man! I dare you.”
I was already defeated; I was crushed; rendered as useless as any man confronted with the natural superiority of womanhood. I knew she was going to ruin me before the evening was up, so I decided to obey her; maybe if I tried a swing at her, she’d get mad and get my torture over with, whatever it was. So I swung a lazy fist at her.
To my dazed amazement, I hit her on the side of the face, and she toppled. She let out a pathetic moan, and had to support herself on a chest of drawers. And suddenly I was alive again. Suddenly, I was a man again.
Before she could recover, I hit her again: one more fist to the face. And one more. And one more. And then she was on the floor, crying like a fucking little baby. I stood over her body – she was covering her head with her arms, sobbing – and I spat on her breasts. I kicked her in the side, then put my bare foot over one of her breasts, and pressed on it. And that’s when I had an idea.
I grabbed her feet from the floor, lifted them up, and spread her legs apart. She was too weak, too stunned, to resist. And I laid the ball of my foot over her snatch. Then I began wriggling my toes into her filthy little slit. And I burst into laughter, because I had never heard of a man foot-fucking a chick before. I was treading on her like she had trampled on my manhood. But this was fair: this was the way of nature: man rules, woman serves. And pressed all of my toes into her snatch, and started shoving my foot inside her. At first she screamed, then she began pleading. Then it was all over.
I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t know how it happened. She suddenly freed one of her feet from my grip, then pounded it into my stomach. All of the air was knocked out of my body, and I was doubled over, kneeling on the floor. And then she was all over me like a fucking wildcat; her nails scratching my back, my shoulders, her fists pounding my head and my face. She grabbed me by the hair and yanked my onto my back with a thud, then hammered her fists against my head like drumsticks. Then her pussy, which moments before had been at my mercy, was suddenly gagging my face – she had it over my mouth and nose – and she beat her fists against my chest and my stomach. I gasped for air; I felt dizzy; I became extremely weak, and thought I would black out.
“See, David?” she shrieked at me, “Who’s on top in the end? Huh? And I didn’t use your male weakness against you, did I? DID I?”
She pounded my chest some more, then reached below her belly batter my chin, and reached behind her to thump my head with her fist.
“But you tried to rape me, didn’t you? You tried to fuck me with your foot. You tried to hurt my sexuality. Well, now I’m going to do that to you, David.”
And, holding her hands in a double-fist, she swung them like a jack-hammer against my balls. Not once. Not twice. She hammered my groin repeatedly like a layer of rock to be smashed through to get at valuable mineral deposits. I was weeping again; I was sobbing again. My last memory of the evening was feeling her lips suck up my balls into her mouth; I began to feel her molars grind against them.
Weeks later, after she had begun to train me to serve her absolutely, she asked me if I had ever doubted that she would conquer me. I asked her, in turn, if I had been too easy for her – to little a challenge. I asked her, “If you had to try dominating me and my friend Mack – you know, Mack from the gym – do you think you would’ve won?”
She looked at me, and smiled.
“Want to find out?”
Originally posted 2009-01-18 15:00:12.
Gynarchic Behavior Modification Center Spanking
After my first trip to the Behavior Modification Center, I was really careful about how I was treating women. So I was very surprised when I received another red letter in the mail. It said, “This is notification that you have broken various laws and have been disrespectful to women. Your indiscretions have been caught on our cameras and recorded. You are to report to the Behavior
Modification Center at xxx address at 7 PM on 8/25/2018. If you do not report to the Behavior Modification Center within a half-hour of the appointed time, you will be arrested and the consequences will be even greater. However, you may also arrive up to one-half hour earlier than your appointed time. Wear casual clothing and expect your appointment to last up to two hours. You will receive discipline and behavior correction for the laws that you have broken. It is recommended that you do not schedule any other activities after your appointment. Be sure to check in at the registration desk as soon as you arrive.
Continued from: Spanked for Disrespecting Women (Matriarchal Society Punishment)
Be aware that this will be the second time that you have needed to report to the Behavior Modification Center.
The Women’s Patrol Unit”
I remembered the severe spanking that I had received, and I wasn’t looking forward to be spanked again.
Like the last time, I got off of work early, and arrived at the Behavior Modification Center at 6:45 PM. When I reported to the reception desk, the receptionist said, “Many things have changed since your first visit here.” She handed me a clipboard with a paper in it. “Please read this over, sign it, and then return it to me.”
By signing the paper, I swore that I would not tell other men about my experiences in the Behavior Modification Center. I also acknowledged that I was to remain silent and only speak when spoken to. There were also many minor rules such as how I should address the women when I was permitted to speak.
The paper also stated that the center had been recently remodeled, and that some of the procedures had been changed. I signed the paper and handed the clipboard back to the receptionist. “Someone will be with you shortly. Please have a seat.”
The center also had the same rulebooks for you to read while you waited for your name to be called and I was surprised to see the large number of men who were in the waiting room.
Soon, a very young woman who was wearing a white uniform called my name. “
Clyde, my name is Jane. Please follow me.” We walked down a long hallway until we got to a room called, ‘Prep Room Eight’. Like last time, the room had some benches in it, some lockers, and a large television screen on the wall.
“Have a seat and watch the screen in front of you.” Next I saw myself in situations where I was acting very disrespectful and a real jerk to women.
After each situation it told how many demerit points I was getting for this poor behavior. At the end of all of the incidents, the screen said I had a total of fifty points, ten more than the last time at the Behavior Modification Center.
Jane then turned to me and said, “Clyde, I want you to undress and put your clothes in the empty locker. You may keep your socks on, if you like.” Then she just stood there and looked at me.
The last time, I was given a thin gown to wear and some slippers, so I asked,
“Aren’t you going to give me a gown to wear and some slippers like last time?”
“Clyde, you now have earned two extra demerit points for talking out of turn and not addressing properly. Our procedures have changed from your first visit to the center. We had to change them because of the large number of men who needed their behaviors corrected. So be sure you address anyone who works here as “madam”, and start getting undressed. I am going to stay in the room and then escort you to the punishment room.”
I didn’t want any more demerit points, so I started to get undressed. I felt embarrassed having to undress in front of a young woman who I had just met.
When I got down to my boxer shorts, I hesitated. “Those come off, too.” Jane said. “Be quick about it. There are many men waiting to be punished.”
“Yes, madam.” I quickly replied as I put my shorts in the locker.
“That’s better.” Jane said. “Now come over here with your hands on top of your head.” Jane was now seated on one of the benches. I had an erection as she examined my penis and balls. “Now turn around so that I may examine your ass.” I turned around and felt her hands all over my ass. “How has it been since you were here last?”
“About six weeks, madam.”
“Because you can’t tell if you have ever been punished, before. But that will change in a few moments. Now turn around and spread your legs so that I may put a lead collar on you. Be sure and keep you hands on top of your head.”
Then to my surprise, she took a small leather strap and fastened it to the base of my penis and balls. Then she connected a chain to it.
“Now I am going to lead you down the hallway to the correction room. Be sure to keep your hands on top of your head and only speak if spoken to.”
Then she pulled me by my penis and balls down the hallway. They had remodeled the center so there was no longer another waiting room, and there were now many more correction rooms. I also passed many other men with their hands on top of their heads, and being lead by a chain attached to their penis and balls. I felt so humiliated being led around the center in this manner.
Soon we got to ‘Correction Room Number 20′. Jane opened up the door and we walked in. This room looked different from the other room I was punished in.
It still had the many whips, crops, paddles, etc on the walls, but the spanking bench was different. It was like a large stainless steel table that had a large ledge on it, which was padded. There was also a small mirror that was attached to the middle of one end of the table structure.
Jane sat down on a chair and said, “Come over here so that I can take off your chain.” She fondled my erection as she took off the chain. Then she stood up and went over to the wall and turned a dial that lowered the bench closer to the floor. “You can lower your arms. Go over to the spanking bench and kneel on the padded ridge with your arms stretched out in front of you.”
“Yes, madam.” I said as I knelt and stretched my arms out in front of me.
First, Jane fastened a strap around my waist to keep me in place. Then some more straps secured my arms and wrists. Next, my ankles and thighs were secured in place. Now, no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t move.
Jane went over to the wall again, and to my surprise, the spanking bench started to move. Soon my head was close to the floor and my naked ass was sticking up high in the air. Jane turned another dial and soon my legs were being spread apart. Now I felt really vulnerable, with my ass sticking up in the air, and my penis and balls dangling between my spread apart legs.
With the small mirror that was mounted on the spanking bench in front of me, I could watch what was happening in back of me. Jane picked up a clipboard and said, “I see that Nancy will punish you, again. I will be back for you after your punishment.” Then Jane left the room. I couldn’t hear much because the room was soundproofed, so all I could think about was how vulnerable I was in this position.
After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened and Nancy walked in. She picked up the clipboard and said, “I’m Nancy, your correction officer. By your records, it looks like I punished you the last time you visited us. I see that you earned fifty demerit points plus two points for talking out of turn in the short time you have been here. That means you will receive twenty SWATs of the paddle, twenty SWATs from a tawse, ten SWATs from a riding crop, and eight strokes from the cane. Do you have any questions?”
“No, madam,” I replied.
“Good. So I may as well get started. But first let me adjust the bench a little more.” Nancy raised the bench a little higher and angled it down a little. Now my ass was really sticking up in the air and unprotected. She went over to the wall near me and selected a paddle. Then in the mirror in front of me, I could watch her position herself in back of me to start my punishment.
SWAT, SWAT, SWAT.
Nancy was using the paddle to make sure every inch of my bare ass turned red with fire. She even used the paddle on the tops of my thighs.
SWAT, SWAT, SWAT
“That’s twenty with the paddle, now the tawse.” She hung up the paddle and next I saw her grab a tawse with many long leather fingers on it. The last time the tawse was used on me, it really stung. I could feel the leather fingers wrap around my whole ass at the same time. They also went into the tenderest parts of my ass, since I was bent over with my legs stretched apart.
SWAT, SWAT, SWAT
Now my whole ass felt like it was on fire, again. “Your ass has now turned a nice red shade.” Nancy said. “You should be able to feel this punishment for a whole week.”
SWAT. SWAT, SWAT
“Now it’s time for the riding crop. I like to have fun with this!” Nancy teased me by flicking it in my armpits, and along my sides. Then she would surprise me with pain as it crashed up my upturned ass. I didn’t know what to expect, a little pleasure or a lot of pain. Nancy also flicked it between my legs. Although my ass felt like it was on fire, it caused me to keep an erection. The ten SWATs seemed to take forever since she was teasing me so much.
Then she hung the riding crop on the wall and pulled down several canes. She swished them in the air next to me and I could hear the distinctive whistle of the cane. Nancy selected a cane and put the others back on the wall. “This one should do nicely.”
Next a heard a speaker on the wall say, “Nancy, is it alright if a tour with four young girls observe you?”
“All I have left is eight strokes of the cane, but you can go ahead and send them in”.
It was bad enough being punished like this, but I didn’t want to be observed in this position. “Please, no. Please don’t let them see me like this!” I pleaded.
Nancy went to the wall and grabbed a gag. She shoved it in my mouth and quickly tied it around my head. “You know better than to complain like that.
Now you have earned an extra stroke of the cane.”
I heard the door open and I saw four teenage girls enter the room. “My Name is Nancy and this is Clyde. I have just given him twenty SWATs from the paddle, twenty SWATs from the tawse, and ten SWATs from the riding crop. Now he will receive nine strokes from the cane.”
“My we feel his red ass?” One girl asked.
“Yes, go ahead.” Nancy said.
Then I felt eight hands feeling me all over. They were even grabbing my penis and balls. “His ass feels real hot. Why isn’t he complaining?”
“If you notice, I put a gag on him right before you came in. That way he can’t complain.” Nancy said. “Now stand back so that I can finish his punishment.”
Then I felt the tip of the cane on my already tender and sore ass. I could see her draw back her arm in the mirror, then Whish, Crack. It felt like a hundred bees had stung me in a row. I wiggled about, trying to free myself from the leather straps that were keeping me in place because of the so great.
“See him move about. That is because the cane is so painful.” Nancy told the girls.
The second stroke felt like a line of fire on my ass.
The caning continued until I received my nine strokes. “I need to leave to punish the next man,” Nancy said to the girls. “You can examine him all you want to. Just leave his gag on and him strapped down. And Clyde,
Jane will be back in a few minutes to escort you back to your clothes.”
The door shut and I was left in the room with four curious girls. They were running their fingers along the nine parallel welts that were left by the cane.
My penis and balls were also being fondled by them. I felt double punished.
First by Nancy with her paddle, tawse, crop and cane, and now being touched and examined by these four teenage girls.
I heard the door open and Jane walked in. “Who are you?” Jane asked the girls.
“We are taking a tour of the facilities and Nancy said we could stay and examine how she had punished Clyde.” One of the girls said.
“Yes, Nancy does do a good job with punishing the men who come here. But you better get along with your tour, because I need to get Clyde dressed and out of here so that we can punish some more men.” Then the girls finally left the room.
Jane took the straps off me as well as the gag. “Stand up with your hands on your head so I can attach the chain to you. Be sure to stay quiet.” Then she connected the chain back onto the thin strap that was around the base of my penis and balls. I was lead down the hall in this fashion, again. My ass really burned and was sore, but I had to keep my hands on my head. This time, some women stopped Jane so that they could examine my sore red ass. They asked Jane who had punished me and were delighted to see my sore red ass.
When we got back to ‘Prep Room Eight’, Jane opened the door and said, “Keep your hands on your head as I unhook you. Then you can get dressed and leave.
I hope that you have learned your lesson and we will never see you again.”
Even though my ass really hurt, I still had an erection from the thin strap being around my penis and balls. But I quickly got dressed and left the Behavior Modification Center. I had a pillow in the vehicle so that the ride home wouldn’t be so painful. I felt that punishment for a whole week.
Gynarchic Government Spanked Rude Male
This scenario happens about ten to fifteen years from now. The world is a lot different place than how we know it today. The scientists have figured out a way for anybody to be identified by sensors that are placed everywhere. Our own unique electro-magnetic field now identifies us, which is around our bodies. This is produced because our body contains a lot of water, and a small amount of electricity runs through us. There are now cameras everywhere, recording our every move.
In politics and the economy, women are no longer up against a glass ceiling. Women are now in control of a lot of the industry and government. The cameras also have face recognition, and if you do anything against the law, it is recorded and you are notified about the incident. Women who run the system are now about to track down men who are really jerks to women in public. Men are notified by mail to report to a behavior modification center where they are shown their indiscretions, and then have to pay the penalty for them. The following is a story about a man who received such a notice of indiscretion.
When I got home from work I checked my mailbox. There was a large red envelope in the mailbox marked urgent. I had heard about these red letters from my other male friends, but I was surprised to get one. I have always been very respectful to women when I have been in public and in private. When I opened the red envelope, the letter read:
“This is notification that you have broken various laws and have been disrespectful to women. Your indiscretions have been caught on our cameras and recorded. You are to report to the Behavior Modification Center at xxx address at 7 PM on 8/18/2018. If you do not report to the Behavior Modification Center within a half-hour of the appointed time, you will be arrested and the consequences will be even greater. However, you may also arrive up to one-half hour earlier than your appointed time.
Wear casual clothing and expect your appointment to last up to two hours. You will receive discipline and behavior correction for the laws that you have broken. It is recommended that you do not schedule any other activities after your appointment. Be sure to check in at the registration desk as soon as you arrive.
The Women’s Patrol Unit”
I was hoping to watch a baseball game on that night, but now I guess my plans will be changed. Some of my friends have already had to report to the Behavior Modification Center, but they wouldn’t tell me what happened during the appointment. I guess you have to sign a paper saying you will not reveal what happens to you.
I got off of work at 4 PM, so I had plenty of time to drive home, eat supper, and get ready for my appointment. The Behavior Modification Center was easy to find and had plenty of free parking round it. I arrived fifteen minutes early; to be sure I wasn’t late. There was a large round reception desk once I walked in, and I quickly checked in.
“It’s good that you are a little early. Please have a seat and someone will be with you shortly.” The young receptionist told me with a big smile. Once I was seated, I was surprised to see that the only reading materials were rulebooks on how women should be treated. I guess they really wanted you to be aware of how a man should behave around women. After about three minutes, a nice looking young woman with a clipboard called out my name.
“My name is Julie. Please follow me.”
We went down a long corridor and she opened a door called “Prep Room Three”.
Inside was a large viewing screen, lockers, and some benches to sit on.
“Please have a seat and watch the screen.”
Next I saw videos of me being a real jerk towards women. Before each video, it showed the date, time, and location of each incident. At the end of each video, it showed demerit points. I was surprised at how many videos they had of me treating women very badly. At the end of the last video it showed that I had accumulated 40 demerit points.
“The next step of your behavior modification is for you to take off all of your street clothes, put them in the locker, and put on this gown and slippers. Then walk down the hallway to the “Waiting for Correction’ room. Have a seat, and someone will be with you shortly. After your correction, I will escort you back to this room so that you can change back to your clothes and then you will be free to go home.”
Julie handed me a gown and slippers and then walked out of the room. Once my clothes were in the locker, I put on the gown. It was a thin hospital type gown that opened in the back. It was just long enough to go down to my knees and I felt very exposed in it.
I walked down the corridor to a room marked “Waiting for Correction”. There were about five other men seated on chairs and dressed only in a gown like I was. I seated myself, and the literature to read had to do with how to treat a woman properly.
The names of the other men were called, and now I was the only man in the waiting room. Soon, a tall and large looking woman called my name. She was dressed in a nurse’s uniform and had a clipboard.
“Follow me to your correction room.” She said. When we reached a door called “Correction Room Five”, she opened the door and said, “This is where I will deal with you behavior modification. Please enter, don’t say a word and follow my orders.”
The room had a metal SPANKing bench, with a lot of straps, in the of the room.
The walls were full of various whips, paddles, canes, and other SPANKing implements.
“Spread your legs and stand still,” she said. Then she got out a tape measure and took a measurement from the floor to my penis. After that, she went over to the wall and adjusted the SPANKing bench.
“My name is Nancy and I will be correcting your behavior. You have received forty demerit points, which means you will receive twenty swats from the paddle, twenty swats with the tawse, and six strokes of the cane. All of your punishment will be given all your bare bottom. Have you ever been to a Behavior Modification Center before?”
“No,” I replied. “This is my first time.”
“By your records, it looked like it was your first time. So I will guide you through the process. First, take off your gown, give it to me, and then bend over the SPANKing bench. Don’t worry. I have seen plenty of naked men.” While still facing the SPANKing bench, I handed Nancy my gown and bent over the SPANKing bench. I was now very aware that I was totally naked and about to be strapped to the bench.
“Spread your legs apart,” Nancy said.
I felt Nancy secure my ankles and upper thighs to the bench. The bench had a protrusion, which made my bottom stick up high. It also made me very aware of my penis and balls dandling between my legs which were spread apart. Next, I felt a wide waist strap secure me to the bench.
“Now drop your arms down to the floor.” Then I felt Nancy put wrist cuffs on me and my arms were now secured to the bench.
“This room is soundproofed so no one will hear you, but do you want a gag?” Nancy asked.
“No, I think I should be okay without one,” I replied.
“If you look in front of you, there is a mirror so that you can watch me punish you. If you want, I can blindfold you.”
“I think I’ll be alright without a blindfold.” I said.
“Good. Then I will start your punishment with my favorite paddle.” I saw Nancy pull a paddle off the wall. Next I felt her hands on my bare bottom and fondling my penis and balls. “You have a nice white round bottom. It should be fun for me to make it all red and hurt.”
“Just SPANK me and get my punishment over with!” I yelled out. It was embarrassing enough to be naked and about to be SPANKed, but it was even more embarrassing for me to have her fondle my body.
“Rule number one. Do not speak unless spoken to. If you speak out again, I will gag you.”
Now I felt totally helpless. Nancy continued to fondle my body and then I saw her pull back the paddle for my first swat.
I wasn’t expecting the swat to sting me so much. I tried to squirm around, but the straps held me in place.
This swat really hurt. “Ouch!” I yelled out. “Do you have to SPANK me that hard?” I asked.
“I warned you about talking.” Nancy said. I saw her walk over to the wall and soon she was securing a gag into my mouth. Now I was unable to talk. “That should keep you quiet for the rest of your punishment.”
SPANK, SPANK, SPANK
I really wanted to complain about how much the SPANKing stung my naked bottom, but since I was gagged, I couldn’t say anything.
At the end of my twenty SPANKs of the paddle, Nancy said, “Now you bottom is turning a nice red color. This punishment should have a good affect on your behavior. You will now receive twenty swats with the tawse.”
I saw Nancy replace the paddle on the wall and pick up the tawse. It looked like it would hurt a lot more than the paddle and it sure did. After twenty swats of the tawse, my bottom really hurt. I felt like I couldn’t take anymore.
Then to my surprise, there was a knock on the door and a girl who looked about twenty years old walked into the room. “Do you have time to fit one more punishment before you leave?” she asked.
“I guess so,” Nancy replied. I saw the young woman look at my bare bottom and then she said, “Good, I’ll schedule him as your next appointment. Say, your doing a good job punishing this guy. Do you mind if I feel his red hot bottom.”
“Go ahead!” Nancy said.
Next I felt the young girl’s hands all over my naked bottom. I felt even more embarrassed than before. She even grasped my penis and balls.
“His bottom feels really hot and I think he is reacting to this SPANKing. He should feel his punishment for a week. Thanks for taking the next appointment.
I’ll see you later.” Then the young girl left the room.
Nancy now reached between my wide spread legs and grasped my penis and balls.
“My, my. You are reacting to this SPANKing. You probably won’t be so hard after you get the six strokes of the cane. But for this part of your punishment, you get the blindfold.”
Soon my eyes were covered, I couldn’t talk because of my gag, and I was still secured to this metal SPANKing bench. All I could do was to wait for the pain of the cane. I felt the cane tap my naked sore bottom, heard a whistle, then
It really stung me. It felt like a lot of bees had stung my bare bottom in a straight line. I tried to squirm around, but I was secured to the bench.
Tap, whistle, SWAT
“Only four more and your punishment will be over with.” Nancy said. The second stroke felt like my bare bottom was burning in a straight line.
Tap, whistle, SWAT
Now I felt like I was going to faint from the pain.
Tap, whistle, SWAT
“Only two more left.”
Tap, whistle, SWAT
“This next stroke will be your last one, then your punishment will be over with.” I felt like my bottom was a burning ball of flesh, but I had no choice but to receive the last stroke of the cane.
Tap, whistle, SWAT
I now wanted nothing more than to rub my burning bare bottom. “You took your punishment very well. I am going to leave you secured to the SPANKing bench. Julie will be in shortly to let you loose from the bench. I hope that I will never need to punish you again.” Then I heard the door closed.
It seemed like hours before someone walked into the room. I could tell that it was Julie when she said, “Nancy does a great job in punishing the men who come in here. Your bottom is bright red with six parallel stripes from the cane.”
Then I felt her hands all over my bare bottom.
First, Julie took off my blindfold, then my gag, and then I could watch her release my wrists, ankles, and waist strap. As soon as I was totally released, my hands quickly went back to rub my bare bottom. I guess I gave Julie quite a view of my naked body, but at this point I didn’t care since my poor bottom hurt so much.
Julie then handed me my gown, and she escorted me back to the room with my street clothes. “Once you are dressed, you are free to leave. I suggest you rub lotion on your bottom once you get home. I will make it less painful for you.”
I dressed and as I left the Modification Center the receptionist said, “You better treat women with respect or your next punishment will be even worst.”
“I hope to never come back here again.” I yelled back as I went out of the door. I was very hard to even sit down and vehicle my car home. Now I will treat women with a lot of respect.
Continued in Man Spanked for Being Rude to Women (Matriarchal Society Punishment)
“Now I will begin to instruct you in positions. Everything you do will now magnify me. Your body exists to glorify and honor your Owner.
You will position your wrists together and bow until your forehead rests on them.
You will grovel but direct your buttocks in my direction. This will be your most common position for correction.
You will lick my nipples, belly button, thighs and legs over and over again until I tell you to stop.l
If I am sitting you will lick the floor between my feet. If I am walking you will lick the floor my boots have just left.”
You will kiss and lick my feet or footwear until I tell you to stop.
Every morning when I am ready to listen you will respond:
You will assume the grovel position and say: “Property thanks Owner for another say of being allowed to serve.
“Property thanks owner for being allowed to worship.”
“That will define your life. You will exist to worship and honor me.”
End of Part 6
Part of the series Her Property.
Originally posted 2007-11-26 18:46:57.
One evening while we lay in bed, she held me in her arms, stroking my hair, my bare back, my ass. She seemed happy, and I felt like I was glowing; her approval was an intoxicant for me.
“You’re getting into pretty good shape, David. You’re getting big and strong…”
I asked her – making sure to chuckle at myself while I spoke -if she ever worried that I’d become so physically powerful she’d no longer be able to dominate me. She laughed, then explained that physique is irrelevant to the female/male dominant/submissive relationship: men are submissive by nature; they are like drones, and cannot exist without a queen. Their inherently confused minds, their constant need for sexual reinforcement — both of these things establish their submissiveness as something rooted in male chemistry. They need to be given directions in order to function properly – directions which cannot come from other inherently addled creatures – and they need to be reminded of their status in the world by the regular degredation that male orgasm entails: the feeling of being spent, of squirting out in an ugly, thick, aimless spray the only thing that makes you useful to the continued existence of the race.
Grace told me that, aside from that, men were too slow-witted, too sluggish and bulky as fighters to pose a serious threat to her.”Take your friend Mack, for example,” she said, “Do you think you two – ganged up against me – could win?”
Though I didn’t say so, my answer was Yes. Mack was someone I’d known since junior high school; we had been close friends. While I had gone into track, he – being stockier, heavier-set – had joined the football team. But I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to challenge her, because regardless how she’d fare against me and Mack she could have her way with me any day of the week. She was stronger, quicker, and smarter.
“What do you think? You and Mack?”
“Oh, I…I dunno.”
“You don’t know? Well, what do you THINK?”
“I…I’m just not sure…”
“So you think there IS some way you and Mack could beat me up?”
“Well, I mean…” I heard my voice quivering, “I guess it… depends on how rough you played.”
She stared at me; her eyes flashed.
“You mean if I agreed not to exploit your pathetic male weakness; if I agreed not to bash either of you in the balls, you think you’d win as a team?”
I was afraid to answer her.
“Tell me! Yes or no?”
I hesitated again, and this irritated her: she grabbed a handfull of my hair then yanked my face right up to hers; she moved her other hand over my ass, jammed two of her fingers into my anus, plunged them in deep, then yelled, “Answer my fucking question!”
“Yes,” I squeaked, terrified.
“Yes, you think you two could beat me up?”
Feeling tears of anticipatory fear well up in my eyes, feeling her fingers drive roughly into my unlubricated hole, I nodded.
Originally posted 2009-01-27 15:00:32.
She was smiling. “Before I accept you must make a formal present of yourself. You may still back out. But the moment the ceremony ends there will be no turning back.”
My few clothes fell off quickly. Then I gathered chains and cuffs. I positioned myself before her.
Binding my testicles I said, “I offer my sexuality and manhood to your control.”
Locking ankle cuffs and a chain in place: “Willingly I give you my body to do with as you wish.”
Similarly locking my wrists: “Freedom I no longer claim, accepting that you will use me as you wish.”
Bowing my head: “I beg for the honor of your collar. Please accept my mind and heart. Willingly I surrender to you all that I am if you will only kindly accept my offering.”
She draped a simple but solid length of chain about my throat. A padlock clicked into place. I was hers. I trembled.
“Look at me.” I raised my head. Though so near she seemed a thousand miles away. She was still smiling though if kindly or cruelly I couldn’t tell.
“Are you brave or a fool? It doesn’t matter does it? You are mine now. You may lick my boots in gratitude.”
bent down and my tongue hungrily washed her boots. Confused and uncertain I felt even more grateful than usual to be able to focus on simple homage.
End of Part 2
Chapter in Her Property series.
Originally posted 2007-11-06 15:51:58.