Hello once more, nice to see you. Sit down by the fire, I’ll bring you a cup of tea and a few chocolate biscuits. make yourself comfy whilst I read you another story. As always, feel free to masturbate if the need arises, I will not be offended. Quite the opposite to be honest, I would take it as a compliment.
In this one you are a visitor to a Victorian whore. Like many a man who has frequented such a girl, you have fallen in love, and you are under her spell. You lie awake at night planning your next visit, and remembering the previous ones.
When you go it is always the same, you go to see her full to the brim with love, but once she starts to tease and undress, your desires take over, and love turns to lust. You remember what she is, she will do anything for money, and you want her to do everything!
You walk the streets of London, in an area called Whitechapel, it’s foggy and damp, but you have known worse. The dismal night casts gloomy shadows from the shrouded gas lamps, and makes the world seem muffled, things like the ‘clip clop’ of the horses hooves as they pass by, seem strangely distant and echoed.
You are making your way to your favourite whorehouse, to see your precious little strumpet, Katie. The gentle hiss of the gas in the lamps and the occasional pop of a gas bubble act as familiar companions to your footfall as you walk.
The door now beckons, you can hear music and raucous laughter from within. The Madam is sat in the entrance and holds her hand out for a sixpence. “Good evening Sir? What’s your pleasure this ‘orrible night?”
You smile and remove your top hat. “Katie, is she…”
“What love? is she willing for a shilling?” She laughs a vulgar loud laugh, which loosens some spittle in her throat and makes her cough.
You watch with an upturned eyebrow as she spits into a spittoon on the floor.
She stops as she sees she has displeased you. “Sorry Sir, Yes she is willing my good Sir, and if the rumour about what hangs between your legs is true I should think she bloody well is!”
This starts her laughing and coughing again so you walk to the stairs, and climb to the second floor, and on to the red velvet covered door at the end of the corridor. Your right fist folds around the brass well polished hexagonal door knob, your left hand raps your tune on the door. You picture her sat behind it, what will she be wearing today?
She is sat on the other side waiting to greet you in one of her unusual creative ways.
She knows you are listening for her.
…you stand at the door and listen. The delightful voice you have longed for calls to you, in the way only she can.
A voice like summer rain, refreshing the soul like water after a long hard dry day, speaks the words you yearn for. “Come in Mr Barlow.”
You smile, she’s recognised your special knock. You turn the brass handle of her boudoir and walk into a luxurious room, the heady smell from the opium rooms downstairs, mixed with expensive perfume gives it an atmosphere unique to the whole of London.
Her eyes are closed, as she gently pulls the polished wooden dildo from her bodice.
“Now then Sir, I wonder what interesting, naughty act of pleasure I have to perform for you tonight?”
You clear your throat with a gentle deep cough, and close the door behind you, slowly.
It clicks shut as you lean against it, for the next few hours you are exactly where you want to be. The troubles of the world outside fade like the steam from a train, which has just departed the station and left you on the platform.
Platform 10, like her room number, which to you is the most desirable destination on the whole of God’s earth.
Breathing heavily, but slowly, still leaning against the stout polished mahogany door, you look at her. Starting at her feet, you are pleased to see she is wearing the fashionable, expensive shoes you left last time.
It seems she has your favourite black stockings on, the ones with the little black bows at the front.
Oh…and she has those bloomers on, the open back ones you had made specially for her by the seamstress in Edinburgh. The pink silk ribbons hang down titillatingly, begging to be tugged.
You know that they will be open at the top, like her legs are, and her neatly trimmed bush will cradle that glistening slit. The lubricated passageway to ecstasy.
She can hear you breathing… you can hear her breathing too.
Within two minutes of entering that room you are transfixed, the erotic atmosphere engulfs you, and you begin to tremble, as your eyes move up her legs.
…when your gaze reaches the top of her legs you are not disappointed. As you hoped, her bloomers are apart, and there nestled between her creamy white thighs is her fragrant flower of womanhood.
You look at her torso too, and without looking into her eyes, because you know they will still be closed, you study her breathing. The black choker you got her from New York gently rests on her rising and falling neck.
The jewels on her blood red dress, which you gave her when you took her to the Moulin Rouge in Paris, sparkle.
But your eyes descend once more to her cunt, or…as it was also known at the time, (between the girls), her ‘dumb-glutton’. That was the jewel you prized most of all, the slippery tight flesh of her pussy could tighten around your throbbing phallus like nothing else on earth.
Her body turns slightly, you hear a wet noise, and it is not from the lips between her legs…
…the noise is coming from her other two lips as she sucks the foreskin end of the wooden dildo you gave her last week. The ringlets in her beautiful hair swing back and forth slightly as she moves delicately over its tip, just like you want her to do with the tip of her teeth, on the tip of your throbbing manhood, right now.
Stroking the length of the polished wood with her right hand, and sinking the wooden cock deeper and deeper into her mouth with her left hand, the special welcome she reserves for her Mr. Barlow is almost at an end.
Your cock is tight in your breeches, you need to hold her. “open your eyes damn it, look at me!”
She does so, she looks straight into your eyes….. immediately.
The shiny wooden dildo in her hand moves down to her pussy.
I want to change perspective here, I want you, the visitor to the girl, to talk to the person reading this..
…It was what I wanted, the reason I had picked her. As soon as I gave her an order her whole body language changed, from haughty wanton slut, to a timid submissive, eager to please.
Time for flowery romantic language was not now, she needed to be told, to be instructed. I needed to tell her, I had to control her.
We had talked of this endlessly, it is what she craved and I desired.
I stood straight, looking down at her…
“You did not look at me when I asked Katie. There is a word for that action, what is it?”
“Yes, that is right, you have been disobedient. And what happens to disobedient girls?”
She breathed deeply and began to rub the dildo against her slippery wet opening. “They get punished Sir.”
Two words in that sentence excited her, punished, and Sir.
The same two words excited me too.
“Yes my little strumpet, you need to be taught a lesson. Now tell me, have you been trying out your little device?”
She blushes and replies “Yes Sir, every day!”
You smile. “Good girl, take that dildo out of your cunt, and put it in position.”
She stood to get the little stool, and inserted the dildo into the hole in the soft leather, inches away from another, shorter, but stouter dildo..
“Place it on the floor, my wanton pet, and get the stick you cut for me, place that on it too.”
“Yes Sir.” Obediently she places the stool before you, with the stick resting between the butt plug and the cunt dildo.
You take her hand, and you both stand looking at it. “You have practised using it yes? How does it feel?”
“Hmmm, it is supposed to teach restraint and obedience!”
“Did you get them both inside you completely?”
“Yes Sir, I felt full to the brim!” She smiled triumphantly.
Note… a friend of mine writes wonderful stories, and i got the idea of this stool from one of his deliciously naughty, well written tales. Go and have a look, you will see it here.
Of course, me being me, I had to go and make one,…back to the story…
“Mount it for me, slowly. I am going to talk to you whilst you are mounted. Do not move. I am also going to ring for service, I shall drink tea. When the maid comes in, just sit on it as if nothing was in you.”
She straddled the ‘obedience stool’ and after pulling her open back bloomers apart, she slid on to the tip of the dildo. Her hand went behind her back, to guide the butt plug into her other hole, then pushed down on to both.
I moved to the front of her. “Show me it is inserted.”
I moved to the back, “Now show me again.”
She was mounted.
I helped her turn the contraption around to face the direction of the door. “Make it look as if you are just sat at my feet. And do not move on it at all.”
She sat, as if butter would not melt up her cunt.
I pulled the cord to the bell, and sat before her to wait. “Make one movement and I will get the maid to beat your rump with the beating stick you made.”
She looked horrified. There was a strict hierarchy in the brothels of the day. New girls, waiting for a position were the maids, it was a chance for the whores to feel superior, and ‘normal’. To be thrashed by one would be a terrible insult and the news would spread like wild fire, bringing great humiliation.
Minutes later a maid came into the room. I told her to bring tea, and two cups. Within ten minutes she was back, the strumpet had not moved an inch and was struggling not to. The maid kept looking at her, she could tell something was happening, but unsure what.
“Take the tray to your Mistress, she can take it from you.”
I told the maid to go, and asked my little strumpet to pour tea. Which she manage with difficulty, because the only place for the tray was the floor.
I looked sternly at her. “And has that experience made you think about obedience?”
“Yes Sir, I always want to obey you, and please you.”
She smiled back. “I love to please you, and want to so very much, honest I do.”
I smiled as warmly as I could and added “You do my dear Katie, you do, and just have. I love to see you submit and obey. I love to punish you, how does that make you feel?”
“Warm and wet between my legs Sir.”
I could not have wished for a better answer.
She was still sat on the obedience stool, and obviously desperate to rub her delicate places against the inserts and the now warm soft leather padding between her legs.
“And what about being punished? When I spank you, birch you, and flog you with a rod?”
She smiled again. “Well I can’t say I dislike it Sir.”
Again, I could not have wished for a better answer from the strumpet I had grown to love and need so much.
I needed to see her relieve her torment. “Remove yourself from the stool, and go to the chaise lounge, remove your dress as you do so.”
My manhood was throbbing, it needed attention desperately. I watched her undress and dismount.
She climbed on to the chaise lounge.
“Pose for me, show yourself to me.”
“Like this Sir?”
I laughed, “…well you do look fine, dandy and proud! But get on your knees, show me that delicious bottom of yours.”
“Are you going to spank it Sir?”
“Present it well for me girl, show me your rump and tell me what I want to hear!”
“Oh Sir, I am such a naughty little strumpet, my rump needs a good long hard spanking, please Sir…awww, please SIr, I beg you, spank me, spank me!”
She presented it very well indeed, and I did spank it. Her cheeks wobbled and she wiggled nicely, she held her position. But I needed more than just a few smacks on her bottom as always. I looked around and spotted a delightful stool nestled next to her hanging clothes. “Crawl to that stool.” I pointed. “Kneel on it, and prepare yourself for the hairbrush and cane.”
The cane she offered was incredible. It was her punishing stick, and certainly not rattan. A dark wood, flexible, and gnarled.
“Would you like me to crawl naked now Sir?”
At this point I noticed that whilst bent over on the chaise lounge, looking away from me as I spanked, she had slipped on her ‘need’, as she called it. An extra little sparkling jewel, hung on a hook from her choker.
Many many months ago, after just a few visits she told me that a girl who works at this house must never talk of her own needs, as her madam had told her, ‘it is all about the customer’. So the girls had a little secret code. They all purchased the same style of choker, an attractive black one, and they all got an extra jewel, a shiny little pendant one which could hang on a small barely noticeable hook at the front. Once they got to know a man, they showed it to them in confidence and said…”Oh Sir, you are my favourite client, the best of all, you touch me there, just right Sir, and…and..”
Of course us gullible men are so easily taken in… “What is it? Tell me, you can tell your favourite anything!”
“Oh thank you Sir, never tell my Madam, this is just between me and you.”
“Yes I understand.”
“Sometimes Sir, you touch me so well that I am crying out for an orgasm myself and can’t really ask, I am not allowed to put my own needs first you see.” With pleading eyes and a look into my soul, how could I resist?
“Oh you must my darling, you must ask!”
“Well, can I simply slide this on, and if you see it, it means I have a need, and that is what we call these, our ‘needs’ Sir. Then I can ask you what I need Sir.”
They probably said it to half their clients, and who cares? I agreed!
And today, she used it.
I saw her turn and her need was attached to her choker. “Tell me, am I right in saying that your desperately need an orgasm, was it the talk of spanking?”
“Yes Sir, my juicy quim is throbbing Sir, can I have an orgasm before you spank me Sir?!”
“You must attend to it, use the dildo, fuck yourself hard!”
“Can I pick which one Sir?”
She looked down at the punishment stool with its two dildos glimmering in the light, and breathing heavily she began to reach for the longer of the two. The ‘need’ jewel shone like a diamond butterfly.
I sat on the red leather studded chair and watched as she performed for me.
She sat there, as bold as brass, and began to slide the wooden dildo in and out of her slit. “I love you watching me fuck myself Sir.”
“Oh trust me, I love watching you.”
The wet sticky noise is a joy to hear, as is her body to watch as it gently moves too and fro before me.
She orgasmed noisily and long, the thrusting dildo fucked her hard.
I told her to stay where she was and put her in my collar and lead. “Crawl to me.”
“I am going to thrash your plump ripe rump, crawl to that stool over there, put it where I can get a good swing, and present your bottom you dirty little bitch.”
She trembled at being called such a thing and crawled to get the stool.
I watched her bottom and hips sway as she moved, I could hardly believe that this girl, with such a bottom wanted me…yes wanted and needed me to thrash it.
She presented herself for punishment, obediently. The stool had done its job it seemed. I smacked her cheeks hard and fast with the dark polished hairbrush.
Immediately her cheeks began to glow and mark, she squealed and begged for more.
I took the rod and thrashed her.
“More Sir, punish your naughty wicked little bitch!”
I striped her bottom well, threw the flogging stick on the floor, took my manhood in my hand and guided it to her slippery begging holes, first I fucked that cunt, hard, and then thrust it deep into her bottom, where within seconds my spunk filled it in long hard spurts.
I was spent…
This story came to a natural conclusion, so I cannot see me adding to it.