Reparations

Reparations

By Marcus Oakwood

The pain in my head forced me back into the conscious World and as soon as I was there I wished I wasn’t. My head hurt so much that I didn’t want to move it, my throat and mouth felt as though I had swallowed dry, rough, sand and my stomach was nauseous.

I lay still for a few seconds building up the courage to open my eyes. Once opened it only added to my confusion, the room was bright with strong light penetrating the thin curtains but I did not recognize it to start with. In a state of near panic I dragged myself into a sitting position before I realized I was still fully dressed on the bed in the spare room of Richard’s flat.

Fragments of the pervious night started to come back to me. Going to the pub directly from work to celebrate Carole’s birthday was clear. Images of the trays to shots made me cringe but then cold dread swept over me. What had I done last night?

Panic had increased to fear as I staggered into the bathroom, found two headrace pills that were washed down with a hand full of water from the sink tap. By body nearly immediate rejected the idea of water and tablets, vomiting the merger contents of my stomach straight back into the toilet. I didn’t try again, instead I set off looking for my mobile. I needed to know what I had done in that  bar.

My brain was not working properly, however, panic has a way of sobering you up. I pressed the number for Nicole knowing she was the sensible one from my group of work Friends. To my surprise she answered on the second ring, as though she was waiting for the call.

‘You okay Janet?’

Her voice was not her scolding mum’s tone that she normally used hen I had done something stupid. Instead it was soft, gentle and sounded really concerned for me.

‘Oh God Nicole tell me what happen last night, I can’t remember a thing.’

‘You got very drunk.’

Her voice held no rebuke, just concern and worry.

‘I know that! What did I do?’

Nicole was silence for a moment and then it just rushed out.

‘You started by flirting with the young lad, Andrew, from accounts. The one that stops breathing whenever he sees you. By the time your Richard walked in, at about 10.30, you had your tongue down his throat and you hand in his trousers!’

With her words I saw my life and dreams smashing apart.

‘Christ Nicole, couldn’t you stop me?’

‘We tried but you turned into a demon, hell bent on getting your hands onto Andrew. I think Andrew was actual relieved then Richard turned up and dragged you off him.’’

There was a pause then Nicole continued, this time choosing her words carefully.

‘I was worried about you, Richard looked like he wanted to kill someone. Andrew disappeared faster than a scalded cat and when you started to give Richard verbal, as he pulled you out of the pub; well we were worried.’

It took me a few seconds for the full implication of Nicole’s words to sink in. Once they had I struggled to find anything to say. Eventually I had to say something.

‘It’s worst than that, he’s done nothing. I’ve lost him Nicole, I’ve blown it.’’

I just managed to hang up before bursting in tears.

Richard was, and still is, the only true love of my life, the only man I have truly respected. I had meet him nearly a year earlier at a barbecue. He was the best looking man I had ever seen in the flesh, six foot two of well toned muscle. He socialized with smooth relaxed, self-confidence, and charm. When he eventually got around to focusing his attention onto me I found myself giggling and as giddy as a school girl. I was 22 at the time and I was used to controlling men. I can’t remember a time when I could not wrap any man around mu little finger with a flutter of the eyes and a little pout. Richard clearly enjoyed flirting with me but it was a new experience to discover that I was working harder to impress him that he was to impress me. He kept me waiting two weeks before he phone me and asked me out. I tried to play it cool and said I as busy on the day he suggested. He did not sound at all concerned and just asked what day I was free in the next week or two. My normal reaction would have been to say I wasn’t but I just knew that if I tried that with Richard I wouldn’t hear from him again.

For our first data Richard turn up, dead on time, in his soft top Porsche 911 that he assured me was old but looked great. We charged down the M1 into North London to a trendy basement restaurant complete with live music and a very small dance floor. It was packed, scintillating, loud and exciting. After a great meal and a few dances we went to a Mediterranean coffee house for a coffee and a Greek honey cake. By the time I got home I was in love for the first and only time in my life.

Richard move slowly and never pushed the relationship. It was always me waiting for him to phone. Seven months later my landlord wanted to put the rent up on the flat I shared with two friends. Richard suggested I moved into this beautiful apartment that he owned. It was one of the happiest days of my life.

So why did I destroy my life in the bar with Andrew, just four months after moving in with the love of my life. I knew the answer. I had been fed up, bored, and jealous. Richard has been working long hours on a new project for several weeks and then had flown to Geneva for the week to finish setting the deal up. I had felt neglected and a little resentful.

Going straight from work to the pub with only a sandwich to eat at lunch time was not a good idea either. After a lot of drinks Andrew showed up with his puppy dog eyes that he couldn’t take off me. I liked been the centre of a man’s attention again, even if it was only the boy from accounts. I guess I wanted the reassurance that other men would still do anything for me. I know I am not good with drink, I had learn that at a friend’s eighteenth birthday party, and therefore was normally every careful but not on that Friday night.

Richard normally played rugby on Saturday mornings for a local club. Glancing at my watch I had about forty minutes before he should be back. Richard was not the sort of man to forget my behavior from the night before but I wanted to look and smell as good as I could, in the circumstances.

I was not quite ready on time but it did not matter as Richard was not back at his normal time. I waited in the flat for another five hours before he walked in the door. It was the longest afternoon I had ever experienced. The extra time did at least allowed my head to improve and for me to get my thinking straight.

As he walked into the hallway my plan had been to apologise straight away and try to control the conversation. However, it didn’t go to plan, I couldn’t look him in the eye as a wave of embarrassment swept over me taking way my ability to talk. Richard just looked at me in silence for what seemed ages before eventually broke the silence with a sad sounding, “How do you feel?”

‘I’ve felt better. - I am really sorry about last night. It won’t ever’

Richard put up his hand to stop me in mid sentence.

‘I’m sorry too, but it’s over.’

Richards' voice was flat and final but I could not just walk away from the life I had always dreamed of and the man I loved.

‘It was one stupid mistake, it won’t very have happen again. I love you Richard. Just give me a second chance.’

‘Life is too short, I’m not going to share my life with a woman that I can’t leave for a night or two without worrying about whether she has had a few drinks and morphed into the cheapest slag possible and is given hand jobs to spotty little boys in dark corners of a seedy pub.’

His words felt like a slap in the face, in fact I think I would have preferred if he had just hit me. The worst part was that I had no defence, apart from the alcohol, and added to this was the revelation that he had been thinking that I was the person he was going to share his life with. I just what to run away and cry.

I had to make an effort to keep him. With great difficulty I looked him in the eye, despite the tears I could feel rolling down my cheek.

‘I’ll do absolutely anything to make it up to you, anything.’

I could see from his face that he had not softened to my plea. I rushed to say something else before it was too late.

‘You can do anything to me, anything. I want you to punish me, I should be punished. Just give me a second chance.’

I could see in Richard’s face that I had at last broken through and got his attention.

Thinking back I should not have been too surprised. When I had been too demanding, especial when I tried to use my sexy pout, to get him to do things I wanted, he had sometime given my backside a playful, but hard, smack and would say said something like, “Stop being a manipulative wench.” I had leant that if I continued I might get another smack or two but also great sex, if Richard had the time. If that happen I also stood a good chance of also getting what I wanted in the first place.

I had broken though his cold unemotional shell but had not yet won a reprieve. He looked at me still with cold aggressive eyes for several seconds.

“Punish you, last night I wanted to beat the shit out of you and today I don’t really feel any different. If you’re serious I will consider it. But I think you better also think about what you are letting yourself in for because I really do want to give you a punishment you’ll never be able to forget. So we’ll leave this for a few days, maybe it will give me a chance to cool down a bit. This coming week is going to be another very busy for me so we will talk again at the end of the week, Friday evening. In the meantime I want you to move yourself and all your stuff into the spare bedroom.’

I saw very little of Richard for the rest of the weekend or during the week. We lived two separate lives just sleeping in the same flat. On the odd occasions when our paths did cross we were both formal and polite to each other but the atmosphere was very tense.

On Friday I got home at my normal time, at about 5.30. Ten minutes later Richard walked in, a good hour and a half earlier that normal. I was still in my jacket and skirt from work, drinking a cup of tea thinking about what I was going to say to Richard and what was I going to allow him to do to me. I had just come to the conclusion that I still loved him and beloved that he still loved me so I would trust him to do what he needed to do to me to get over the pain I had caused him. Next thing I knew he was coming through the door and into the kitchen. I stayed sitting as he lent against the side and without any preamble said.

‘Are you still prepared to do this.’

I just nodded my consent.

‘Okay, this is the deal. This weekend, starting right now, I’m going to make you mine; mind, body and soul. If you let yourself become completely and unquestionably mine, with no ifs and buts, we’ll start anew on Monday. Last Friday will be swiped away. This weekend you’ll do everything and anything I tell you. You wear only what I telling you to wear. You don’t do anything with out my permission, eat, drink, sleep, piss or even shit. And the last rule is you don’t speak unless spoken to, if you must ask a question you can raise you hand and I may give you permission to open your mouth. Is that all crystal clear?

I just nodded, not sure whether I should talk or not.

‘Good, to start with I am going to give you a canning. So go into the garden and cut a nice, sturdy, straight, stick about two feet long.’

I just looked at him in shock, unsure whether he was truly serious. He casually looked back at me and calmly gave me my options.

‘You can start trying to be a good little girl and begin to pay back your reparations or go upstairs and pack. I hope you choose the garden route but either way you need to move your ass.’

It seemed like a strange dream and now looking back I find it hard to believe but I stood up, went to the drawer in the utility room and armed with a pair of secateurs, headed out into the garden in high heels and my business suit. It was Richard’s little throw way comment that he hope that I would stay that had decided my choice of action. After all it was what I had asked for.

I returned to the kitchen about ten minutes later, slightly chilled, with a very carefully chosen stick in my hand. Richard took it from me, examined it for a few seconds and then passed it back to me.

‘Okay, now peel the bark of it.’

Whilst I was doing as he asked Richard took a kitchen chair into the front room.

After a few minutes of scraping I had transformed my rough stick into a nearly white, moist, flexible, cane. With mounting trepidation I carried the instrument of my chastisement through to the front room like some form of sacred offering and presented back to Richard. He examined it again and flexed it before ordering me to stand behind the back of the kitchen chair that was positioned in the centre of the room.

I noted than the curtain were still open letting the evening light into the room. Richard’s apartment is on the ground floor at the end of a secluded block so there was very little chance of anyone peering in, nevertheless I would have felt much better if the curtains had been tightly drawn. I was tempted to say something but did not have the courage to break one of Richard’s rules before the weekend had even started properly.

Richard voice took my mind off the curtains.

‘Your jacket goes onto the back of the chair, then undo you skirt and push it down.’

I complied, hoping against hope that, that would be all that was required. As I had expected it wasn’t, Richard wanted to maximize the humiliation of the whole procedure.

‘And now your tights and knickers, all the way down to your ankles.’

I steady my emotions and just clenched my jaw and did as ordered, trying to maintain as much dignity as possible, which in that situation is very little.

Richard then got me to bend over the back of the chair with my hands gripping the front section of the seat. My naked, white, moon like bottom was stretched over the back of the chair, left exposed for his scrutiny. Richard strolled back and forward, swishing the home made cane, building the tension and apprehension in my body. I was just being to hope that he wouldn’t go through with it when I caught a blur of movement out of the corner of my eye. The swish of the cane was followed by an excruciating, searing pain exploding on to my left buttock. The shock as much as the pain made me jump and emit a high pitch squeal.

Richard waited until I had calmed down a bit before he spoke.

‘You may want to stay quiet during this otherwise we will have the neighbours knocking on the door and peering in through the window and I’m sure you would prefer that this isn’t turned into a public caning. And I believe the protocol is that you count the strokes, so let’s see if you can count up to twelve. You can start with that one.’

I managed to mutter an emotional “One” and instantly afterwards the cane cut deeply into my right buttock leaving a line of fire that radiated heat out from the second impact.

The caning continued with Richard leaving long time gaps between each energetic strike. Each one making me whimper and shudder. He was using my bottom to practice all the variations of his tennis strokes. By the time I managed to gasp out the word “twelve” I was a panting, quivering, wreck. I needed the chair in front of me to stop me from collapsing into the floor. My whole body was damp with perspiration and my bottom felt was though I had sat on red hot coals. I had never experience that level of pain before.

The strange thing was I also felt a sense of calm, release, through the pain and exhaustion. The anger I had felt at by own stupidity during the week before had made me tense and stressed for the whole period, nearly to braking point. The embarrassment of having to face the comments and knowing glances at work had not helped. The pain and humiliation of my punishment somehow made me feel cleansed. It was a form of atonement not only to Richard to also to myself.

I was still recovering my composure, when I felt the warmth of Richard’s hand, through the white cotton of my work blouse, on the small of my back. The gentle pressure of his hand was reassuring after a week of no contact between us. I had a need for it even after what he had just done to me. Its presence also made it clear that Richard wanted me to remain bent over the chair. Although I couldn’t see him I knew his eyes were examining the damage he had inflected on my bottom. The gentlest touch of his finger tips tracing the raised welts followed. My heart sighed with pleasure when I felt him tenderly kiss the exposed skin at the base of my spine.

‘Good girl, I’m very impressed. You’ve proved, beyond anything you could ever say that you are truly sorry for last Friday and I accept that. Now I want to make you mine. I want you to prove me that you are truly and unquestionably mine. Can you do that?’

The pain of the caning had not brought tears to my eyes but his soft words and the relief they carried broken the barrier. As tears sprung from my eyes I managed a reply.

‘Yes, yes I will.’

Richard simply replied with a “Good” as his finger tips moved away for the welts to the area between my legs. His light touches creating a tingling, sexual sensation on the lips of my sex that even the stinging heat from my bottom couldn’t suppress. He continued to casually stoke that sensitive area, it was not long before my body started to respond and open to his to touch. At first he appeared not to notice the effect he has having no me then I found his finger sliding up and down the opening groove between my lips. I could feel my juices beginning to flow and so did Richard. His tender stimulation turned into a more focused finger fucking. The excite was starting to mount and I was beginning to breath heavily when his finger slipped out of my now eager orifice and travelled up between my buttocks until it reached my other much tighten orifice. He gave this most personal, puckered, hole two solid flicks with his finger. He seemed to be checking its response to attack and I involuntary clenched it tightly closed. This had the reverse result to what my body and I wanted as Richard firmly forced his, now lubricated, index finger deeply into my bowels. I gasped in surprise and would have stood up accept for Richard’s other hand firmly keeping me bend down. Further gasps and some squirming followed as Richard twisted and bend is finger, driving it deeper into me until I could feel his knuckles wedged hard again the valley between my buttocks.

Having enjoyed himself straining and pulling at my anal ring, he withdrew his finger even faster than it had entered. My relief of losing his finger from that most private and degrading hole was very short lived, one fast step later Richard was standing directly in front of me is left hand clamped onto my ponytail, which is the standard way I wear my heavy, long, dark hair to work. His left hand ensured that my head stayed down at his waist level, whilst he twisted his wrist around to force my head to tilt back so I was looking straight at his belt. There I discovered his right hand right under my nose. The heavy, sweet, musky smell from my own body filled my nostrils. I tried to turn my head away to avoid his finger that touched my nose and followed down to my lips. His left hand stopped any escape. The soiled finger parted my lips, the barrier I formed with my teeth Richard quickly vanquished by an additional sharp twist on my hair. I nearly gagged as the taste of my own body filled my mouth. It was the thought of what was in my mouth more that its actual taste that so repulsed me.

His finger explored the inside of my mouth, running along my teeth and circling itself around my tongue. I had seen enough films and read enough books to know what was required so I dutifully started to lick and then suck on his finger, cleaning it as Richard clearly wanted me to do. It was a revolting, disgusting act. The sort of thing that I imagined that the cheapest whore is made to do, a thing I would never dream of doing of my own free will. The big difference was I was been controlled by Richard’s will and therefore I was not responsible for my actions. That’s extremely liberating. I could leave all my inhibitions and fears about losing my dignity behind and just, do. It was the dirtiest thing I had even done, revolting, but also wildly sexy and sinful.

Once I was sucking obediently on his finger Richard released my head and unzipped his fly to free his aroused penis. The finger was exchanged for his penis. One of his hands was back in my hair, lightly this time, controlled the rhythm. The other worked itself along the buttons of my blouse and then onto the clasp of my bra, which did take him a few seconds to undo, awkwardly working one handed as he was.

The treatment my breast received got increasing harsher as his excitement mounted. On the last few thrusts before his bitter tasting fluid spurted into my mouth. His grip on my head become rigid, his thumb and fingers tips dug deeply and painfully into my right breast. He used my breast as a handle to pull again as he tried to drive his penis down my throat. I first used one hand the then both to stop him choking me by pushing against his body as he shuddered to a halt.

He may have been spent but he was not completely finished. Once he recovered from his orgasm and I had swallowed down his main discharge he continue to gently, this time, to slide in and out of my mouth pumping the dregs of his sperm into my mouth. I sucked and licked him dry as this tool started to soften.

Eventually he withdrew completely and lifted my head right up this time, so I was back standing upright again.

‘I enjoyed that,’ Richard commented whilst putting his equipment back into his trousers ‘and now, to be fair, it’s your turn.’

Richard got me to removed one of my high heels to free one leg from my knickers and tights. He turned me around and got me to stand astride the chair with my still glowing backside facing the back of the chair. This time he did close the curtains and turned on all the lights to flood the front room with light. My open blouse he slipped off my shoulders and pulled it down my back and upper arms, pinning my elbows down at my sides. My bra, hanging down around my stomach, clearly irritated him as he grasped the top straps and ripped each, in turn, off the cups.  The ruined bra he just discarded onto the floor.

‘Now start doing some serious masturbating, I want to see a dripping wet fanny.’

With that he just strolled out of the room leaving me looking like a disarranged slut, basically naked, legs splay either side of the chair, with one shoe still on hidden beneath my knickers and tights. I just stood there doing nothing, confused. About a minute later Richard came back with his digital video camera in his hand. I just reacted without thinking.

‘No way, put that away.’

Richard’s face first showed mild surprise and them a mischievous, cruel smile appeared. He put the camera down and pick up the cane again. As he walked towards me I realized how intimating he was. He still had his charisma but he is a large, strong man and there was a hint of malevolent power about the way he looked and moved. He come right up to my side, his body and leg touch mine. He poked the end of the stick up beneath one of my beasts, forcing it up, he then whispered, very softly, into me ear.

‘I told you not to open your fucking month unless I want it open. You are going to do as I tell you or your plump, soft, tits are going to get the same treatment as your backside. Last Friday you entertain the whole of the pub with you porn acted and you are now going to do the same for me. But I want to keep a record of it, for my own amusement and I think it’s good for you to know I have video of you acting as a porn star. Just to keep you on the straight and narrow. Now get on with it.’

He backed away a few steps to standing in front of me, the stick still very much in his hands. He just gave me a cold, unwavering stare that I could not fight against. I don’t think it was the threat of the cane that intimidated to do as he asked. I just felt so small, exposed and vulnerable, I had already given him control of my body and I found I did not have the will power to take back control. My fingers started to respond to his will as though they were independent of me,

Not that I would have ever admitted it to a man but like nearly all women, I assume, I had in the past, indulged in a little self simulation from time to time. However the thought masturbating in front of a man, for his entertainment, is about the most embarrassing thing I could think of. The reality of the situation is just as bad as I imagined.

Once Richard was sure I was doing as I had been told he relaxed back onto the couch, camcorder in hand.

The embarrassment of the situation was accentuated by the bright immaculate room with me, dishevel in the centre, upper arms pinned to my side, shameful and so exciting. I was performing for Richard and the camera. To start with I had felt unbelievable awkward, my fingers simulating my body, slowly things changed. I started to open up to Richard’s and the camera’s view. Exhibiting my sexual act was intoxicating. As I became excited the scene became even more lewd and that in turn added to my excitement. It did not take long before I was squirming and moaning for the gratification of Richard and is camera. As I came, I again nearly collapsed onto the chain as all the strength drained from my wobble legs.

Richard looked delight as he came forward, kissed me on the forehead and at the same time gave my damp, still sensitive, sex and friendly pat.

‘Good girl, not so hard was it. I think you enjoyed it.’

That finished our sex games for the evening. On Richards’s instructions I changed into one of his tee shirts. That was all he allowed me to wear whilst cooking dinner for both of us. The evening in front of the TV was cozy and comforting, curled beside each other on the settee.

Next morning I had breakfast with Richard still only wearing the same tee shirt, trying to hide my disappointment that I had been told to sleep in the space room, yet again. Before Richard went off to his rugby he left me some very simple instructions. Have a bath, completely shave my body and by ready to go out when he returned.

When he returned he did not ask and I did not tell him if I had following his instructions. He just drove me off to an unknown destination.

My design jeans, heels, tight fitting top and full make-up made me feel very out of place in the little greasy spoon café where we stopped for lunch. Richard order me a sandwich and drink without any reference to me and before we left sent me off to the loo as through I was a five year old child.

We continue a very short way further into the back streets of Luton and parked outside a tattoo and body piercing parlour. As we walked in Richard greeted the heavy tattoo bike type that owned the shop and it was clear that we were expected. I knew that Richard was not normally a fan of tattoos, however, he may have a different view if it was in a place not usually seen and I was very aware of the area of my body that he had got me to shave that morning. Tattoo or body piercing either way it was not great news.

Feeling nervous, I was led into a back room. I found myself excluded from any conversation, I was just an object as Richard and the tattooist ignored me. It only took a second or two of listening to the conversation between Richard and the tattooist, who was apparently called Kevin, to realise that Richard had booked me in for some body piercing. They were discussing stainless rings, gauges and closing methods. Kevin held up different rings for Richard approval, after some jovial banterer they appeared to reach a conclusion and then their gaze turned on me like a pair of hungry dogs.

It was Kevin, who spoke first, in a strong London accent.

‘Okay luv, you’ll need to take your top off. This will be real fast, your feel a sharp prick and a few second later it will be over.‘

I had already guessed the area Richard wanted pierced, the male brain is quite simple in some ways, and in truth I felt a lot better about that area than face or tongue piecing. The thought of piercings and rings had always been of interested. It is one of these things, like parachuting, that has an exciting appeal, however, actually doing it is a different matter. I was hesitating for a second when I caught Richard’s eye. He just gave me a slight nod and that was all I need to take the plunge. What the hell, this Kevin bloke must be tattooing or piecing breasts all day long, so off came my top and bra. It was my attempt at being brazen and bold, a woman proud of her curves. That was until I looked down and could plainly see the small, dark, bruising caused by Richard’s fingers and thumb on my right breast from the night before.

Kevin conspicuously pretended not to notice my blushes or the fingers marks and just liberally sprayed the first nipple wit a very cold antiseptic fluid. It was cold enough to ensure that my nipple was left stand erect which I assume was half the point of the spray. Next thing to happen was he lightly pinched the top of my nipple and forced a long needle, horizontally, through the base of the nipple. The pain was initially extremely sharp but short lived. Following in to the hole, made by the needle, was a stainless steel ring. Fitting this was in its way even more painful in a slow deep way. With a minute I had a heavy ring locked in place. The second was just the same as the first except this time I knew what to expect which made the process even more stressful.

Kevin check with Richard that he was happy with his handy, very fortunately for me Richard appeared very happy with the results. I was keen to stop begin the centre attention and started looking around for me bra trying to block out the deep ache in my breasts the stinging sensation in the nipples, caused by the antiseptic that was on the rings themselves.

Kevin put a stop to me getting coved and escaping by saying it would be best to leaving the piecing uncover for twenty minutes and let the air to them. This was bad enough but nothing to what he said next.

‘The next two, surprisingly, won’t be nearly so bad as the skin is thinner and not so sensitive. So the worst is over. You will need to remove your jeans and knickers and lie down on the trolley and let your legs drop down on either side.’

I assume the utter shock in my face showed as he then tried to calm me down.

‘Just imagine you are at the doctors, lie back and think of England and it will be over before you know it.’

‘You've been a good girl, so far, you want to continue to please me don’t you?’

Richard said while gentling  stroked my head as you would to a frighten child.

I did want to please him and his hand did calm me but both of these facts were irrelevant as his question give me only one option, I was incapable to fighting again his will so I just nod my acceptance.

As I wriggled out of my tight jeans taking my knickers down with them I saw, to my shame, the welt marks that stood out very clearly against my snow white skin and this time Kevin did not bother to suppress his smirking. I had forgotten to hide them so I just continued, obediently, to do as I was told. I was no longer in a position to deny to Kevin, and even more importantly to myself, that I was the property of Richard and he could do what he liked to me.

In a dream state I found myself naked, on a bench, with my legs wide apart as a man I had never meet before pierced holes in the lips of my cunt and insert a heavy ring into each. The whole process as a blur, I think I was in too much shock to take it in.

After all was complete, Kevin left Richard and I alone in the back room for 20 minutes for me to recover. The only interruption was the delivery of tea for both of us that was gratefully received by me.

I left the shop taking very small steps and my legs as far apart as possible without locking totally ridicules, very conscience of the weight of the four rings that were now an immovable part of my body. My discomfort amused Rickard as he joked about my tight jeans may not have been the best thing to wear. I was just gratefully to get back in the car heading home.

That night I shared Richard bed against for the first time in over a week. Fortunately Richard only wanted to look at what he called my rings of ownership and nothing else which was a great relief to me.

The next morning they did not feel too bad and after an inspection from Richard that involve flicking the rings to ensure that were free to move Richard got himself and me dressed.

He got me to wear the most revealing, tart like clothing; low cut tee shirt, short skirt, bare legs and no knickers or bra. The lack of knickers was a bit of a relief in the circumstances. He in contrast wore one of his best, Italian,  business suites.

I was not told where we were heading and I knew better that to ask. At about eleven o’clock we were parked up in the NCP parking in Soho with Richard keen to start shopping.

I was shown a part of London I had never visited before, I had dropped in into the Ann Summers shop in Luton once, with a bunch of girls, for a bit of a lark .The London I saw that day was totally different. Up-market specialist lingerie shops selling designer bra and pantie sets for hundreds of pounds, body piercing jewel shops that were just devoted to that one type of jewellery and the seediest hard core sex shops. All frequented by such a mixture of colourful, strange people. The old perverts their rain coats, couples looking to add excite into their sex lives, gays and women dressed in leather with white make-up with piercings everywhere.

Despite being surrounded by people I perceived as unusual and in a lot of cases exotic we still attracted attention in all the shops. Richard looked so good; young, strong, lean and reeking of money and I looked and felt like his cheap, undressed, tart. Nearly all the men and some of the women gave me and Richard a good look over. Catching my reflection in a mirror in one of the shops it was very obvious why they were looking at me. My lack of clothing made me stand out special my unfettered breasts the contours of which were in full view. The thin top and short skirt also meant that I was slightly chilled, when outside, so my nipples were doing there best to advertise their presence but worst I also realized that the nipple rings were clearly showing though the material. I tried crossing my arms over my chest. This only resulted in me feeling awkward and caused my nipple rings to hurts. As the last thing I wanted was for them to start bleeding and showing blood though my white top, so I just accepted stares.

It was humiliating to be dragged around all the shops and exhibited as Richards sexual play thing and that was clearly Richard’s intention. The furtive ogling from both man and woman, with their lustful or contemptuous eyes, and in a lot of cases both, had a strange affect on me. As time wore on, with Richard buying a whole assortment of things, my feelings of abashed intimidation started to get mixed up with the sexual element of my situation. The shops we were in were all about sex and sexual fantasies and the lust and sexual atmosphere were everyway. To know I was the target of desire for a lot of people surrounding me was a turn on and once those thoughts were in my mind they were hard to turn off.

Our late lunch was in a coffee shop with low, laidback, soft comfy chairs and matching coffee tables. I spent most of the time thinking about my short skirt that insisted on riding up. The fact that I had no knickers on and two metal rings hanging from my fanny made this a priority for me, it also ensured that my mind continued to dwell on my own sexual fantasies.

By the time we got home, with several black anonymous  plastic bags, I was ready to put at least some of my fantasies in action and was a little disappointed then Richard sent me off to have a shower as we were apparently going out for an early dinner.

Returning from the bathroom, hot and still slightly damp, I found Richard waiting for me with a few of his new purchases layout on his bedside table. I was immediately suspicious that Richard, still fully dressed, was about to use me to indulge in one of his sexual fantasies and I was not sure that I was going to enjoy the experience.

With no preliminaries or explanations Richard ordered me to kneel on the bed, head down, and bottom up. I new what was coming. Fingering my anus and push a finger slightly inside me during the final moments of love making, always brought him to a climax in seconds. I had never let him go any further with that part of my body. It had seemed too private and dirty. I guess I was ashamed of that area of my body and still am.

With my bottom stuck up in the air ready for its examination, it was not private any more.

I just silently accepted the ignominy of Richard heavily smearing the valley between my buttocks and my anus with some type of greasy lubricate. The sensation of his oiled finger first playing and then sliding in and out of my anus was not what I would call enjoyable but, putting aside the humiliation of my body been violated in such a way, it did create its own interesting, sexual feeling within me.

His finger was inevitably followed by his large and fully erect penis, which felt three times its normal size as it was forced up into me. It painfully stretched my rear opening much further than nature had ever intended. In fairness to Richard he did try to be fairly gentle as he eased himself into me, slowly working himself deeper and deeper, using small little thrusts. His gentleness did not mean he was not forceful, his powerful hands and fingers gripped my hips like a vice. I don’t think I could have fought against him even if a wanted to. He was using is full body strength and weight to hold me in the position he wanted. It also did not mean that it did not hurt. My over stretched orifice felt as through it was about to tear, it was so tight that Richard was clearly struggling to force his way in. Without the ample use of the lubricate I don’t think it would have been possible for Richard to entry my rear hole without splitting me open.

Once he had worked his way deep into my bowels, impaling me with the full length of his tool, a new deep internal cramp was added to the sharp urgent pain from my anus.

I could sense his mounting excitement. His gentle controlled entry was replaced my what I can only describe as full force buggery. I now understand the expression “biting the pillow”. I didn’t have one handy so could not stop myself from squealing with each thrust. Fortunately the onslaught was short lived. Half a dozen thrusts was enough to get Richard to squirt his own body fluid into my vitals. He stayed within me for at least a full minute after his climax. I can only assume his was enjoying the feeling and view of himself up my bum.

The relief I fell when be did eventually deem it was time to leave my body was very short lived. As his member pulled itself back out of my over strained anus it was immediately replaced by sometime cold and hard. He replaced himself with a ‘butt plug’ that was even large in diameter that his penis. As he push it into me it stretching me to the absolute maximum. I was forced to welcome this new, cold, foreign invaded into my body with a cry of release and deliverance as my anus was allowed the opportunity to relaxed, a little, as it closed down around the smaller neck of the plug. My own body locking the device inside me, along with his spunk.

I stayed put, my head still resting on the bed, trying to recover my composure as Richard rubbed my sweaty and grease smeared back and bottom down with a small hand towel, the same way you would rub down a horse after you had give it a hard ride.

Using my hair as handle Richard pull me back off the bed, not aggressively, my hair was just a convenient way for him to get me back on my feet and into the position he wanted. It was extremely strange just moving with the plastic plug filling my bowels. I found myself standing with my feet two apart, slightly pigeon toed and bent forward. Richard appeared not to notice as he concentrated on strapping a very unusual thong on to me.

Its waist band was an inch wide, heavy, black, leather belt with the buckle at the back. Richard proceeded to tug the belt in very tightly so cut its own grove into my waist. I am proud of my figure, slim waist and curves in the right places, however, the belt distorted this. As my 24 inch waist was squeezed down to something like 20 inches my tummy, below the belt, appeared to balloon out as though I was five months pregnant.

As Richard continued to fiddle with the belt, I was left to look my belly and at the small narrow leather triangle that hung down from the front of the belt. It was more of a strip than a triangle. It was made from soft supple leather, only two inches wide at the top, at the same height as my belly button, and about seven inches long. From its point dangled an eight inch, round link, chromed chain.

Once satisfied that he had pull the belt tight enough, it was more that uncomfortably tight to me. He reached through my legs to get hold of the chain. To my surprise I thought he was trying, some how, to attach the chain to the butt plug as he twisted it slightly within me. I could feel the tiniest vibration though the plug going right into my core. I soon discovered my mistake, the plug had a small ring on its end, I assume to help it to be pulled out, and Richard was running the chain up though this ring and on, up to the belt. He then started to pull it tight.

The soft leather triangle had give in it, especial down its centre line. Even before it had any tension on it did very little to cover my sex, once in tension it first pulled tight and then cut down into my sex. The pressure on my two rings, that were still sore, was a worry to me so I delicately move them out to the sides.

The chain at the back was also trying to push the butt plug in deeper. I feel the shoulders of the device nestling in snugly into the valley between my buttocks as the head eased itself further in.

There was a click from behind me and the thong was locked in place. Richard came around to my front to inspect his artwork. With his left hand cupping my chin he pulled me up so I was standing straight, as the fingers of his right hand stroked down the centre line of the thong. With deft fingers he changed his approach and worked down either side of the thong carefully easing the lips of my sex apart, augmenting what I had started. The thong seated itself neatly into my groove. With his fingers back on the outside he ensured the leather was pushed deeply into my sex, wedging my lips apart. With a satisfied smile on his face he when back to the chain at the rear. I gasped as the chain was pulled another inch shorter, again this was followed by a soft click.

Later I discover, by using a mirror, that the soft click was the sound of a small, luggage style, brass padlock that lock both the belt and thong in place. I had been locked into a tight bondage thong, come chastity belt, that Richard had also used to make it impossible for me to remove the large, foreign, object filling my lower bowels and stretching open my rear orifice. I was literally stuffed and segmented. The belt trying to divide me in half with a wasp’s waist and the thong cutting my lower body in the two. The thong was slicing into sensitive areas that, in my opinion, should not be sliced into. The thong itself was no longer visible from the top of my sex downwards as it had sunk so deeply into my opening.

I could see the smug expression on Richard’s face as he again come around to face me and gloat at what he had done to me but he was not quite finished.

‘One last finishing touch’ was all he said has he produced a small padlock from his pocket and locked my two, lower, rings together.

I had no time to ponder the situation I had allowed Richard to put me into. He quickly got me to put on a black, silk, suspenders belt, seamed stockings and my highest pair of stilettos. It was at this stage that he suddenly thought and I need a mug of tea and he wanted a coffee. The idea of a comforting mug of hot tea was appealing though, at the time, I was sure that his actual reason for wanting me to make the drinks was just as an amusing test to see how his naked toy, complete with accessories, would cope with walking and the climbing the stairs.

High heels push your hips forward and tighten your buttocks. I am so used to heels that normally I don’t notices either of these effects but that evening it was very apparent to me. It made going down stairs a slow and tentative business. All the muscles in my nether region tensed and pressed in on the large insertion inside me and thong cut further into my private grooves with each step down I took. Strangely, although not painful, the weight of the padlock swinging around from my two rings and knocking against my legs was just as distracting.

I got myself dressed, did my make-up and drunk my tea all standing up. I did not fancy the idea of sitting.

The top and skirt that Richard wanted me to wear were smart and sophisticated, my wine red, wool, pencil shirt and a loose fitting black cashmere top. The one exception was the quarter cup bra that left my nipples and more critically my nipple rings exposed. Fortunately the loose top hid both this and my unique waistband. Fortunate because even I had worked out that Richard was getting me dressed so we could go out someway special.

It was as I teetering long, feeling extremely awkward is all sorts of ways, towards the front door when I realized that this was not a good time to be going out locked into Richard’s torment thong. I got Richard’s attention before we got out the door by giving his arm, that I was holding onto for support, a little squeeze and tentatively raised a finger.

‘Yes?’ was Richard’s curt response.

‘Please can I quickly nip to the loo before we go?’ I asked in my most subservient and pleading voice.

Richard just raised an eyebrow, opened the front door and propelled me through it with his large hand firmly on my bottom. He replied only once the front door was closed behind us.

‘Later, if your good and keep you mouth closed.’.’

Getting into Richard’s low slung Porsche 911, special when the roof is up and wearing a pencil skirt, is tricky at the best of times. With what I had on me, and in me it was murder. The drive was even worst. Sports suspension meant that each pothole, and there were many, hammered the butt plug into hurting rear. Having the object jarring inside also affected my bladder. By the time Richard swung the car into the car park of smart restaurant come cocktail bar, which we both liked, and parked the car in the far end corner, nipping to the loo before going out as a convenience was becoming more of a need.

Trying to walk normal down the length of the car park and through the front bar area to our table in the restaurant took all my concentration. By the time I was settled enough to look round, after delicately perching onto my chair, I found myself boxed into the corner of the room with a large non alcoholic cocktail in front of me on the rectangular table.

Richard give my hope of escaping my predicament by saying, ‘We’ll have a quick drink here then I suppose I better sort you out.’

Accordingly I started to down my drink with enthusiasm.

Beside me Richard had put his arm around my waist and discreetly worked is hand under my top. He appeared laidback and content to sip is coke in silence whilst just stroking my back and top of my hip. The warmth of his hand against my skin felt good and help me to relax down a bit

Ten minutes later I was down to the dregs of my drink as one of Richard’s rugby friends strolled in and joining us at the table. A few minutes later another two and then finally a fourth arrived. I knew three of them vaguely but one was complete new to me. They all lent across and shook my hand and intruded themselves, luckily either Richard or had to stand up. As each one arrived are got more fearful able what Richard was up to.

Richard got them all drinks and then the menus came out and I began to panic as we were clearly going to be eating so staying for some time.

I chose the smallest, fastest thing to eat on the menu.

I eat quickly as the men ignore my presence, which as fine for me, but I knew I was very nearly at the crunch point of having an accident there at the table or rupturing something internally. I could not even leave the table without either climbing over Richard or the table.

With a gentle tug I got Richard to stop talking and to listen to me. The music from the cocktail area filled the restaurant so it was fairly easy to whisper privately to Richard.

‘Please Richard I am bursting, you got to let me to the loo, I so sorry but I just can’t hold on any longer.’

Richard’s hand slide off my hip and gave my rear chain a hard jerk. That got my attention and stop me saying anything more.

‘Be a good girl and learn some self control for just another five minutes longer.’’

I sat there miserably for another few minutes with my knees pressed together, both hands pressed onto my groin and bent forward. I think I was just starting to shake when Richard suddenly twisted around in his chair, grasped the back of my head with one hand pressed is month, passionately onto mine. It was so unexpected that I was left struggling for breathe as his tongue penetrated my month. At the same time his other hand supported his body weight on my blotted stomach. It was at this point that the force of his month on mind started to tip my char backwards. I had that instantaneous, shocking, fright linked to feeling yourself falling backwards. All control was lost, hot liquid spurted out passed the thong and flooded out between me legs.

Richard still had a firm grip on my head so I was not actually going to fall anyway. The heel of his hand continued to push down and the hard plastic object inside me push back,  compress my bladder between to two, until I had totally empty myself.

I was panting, in a soaking wet skirt, siting in a pool of me own piss that was running down my legs and dripping off the chair. It took me a few seconds to realize that the other man around the table were smiling at Richard and I because of the kiss, they had not realized that I sitting in a puddle of my own urine.

Richard slow eased away from me but not before whispering.

‘Naughty girl, I didn’t say you could piss yourself.’

He then announced to the table at large, ‘I have something to say, and to show you, that will make you laugh, I guarantee it.’

My sprit was crushed. I had allowed Richard to abuse me, humiliate me and punish me, in very painful ways, and here I was sitting in piss waiting to publicly disgraced in front of Richard’s friends, in a restaurant where I was know.

I clamped me eyes tightly closed in an attempt to hold back the tears when I heard something been slapped down on the table follow by cheers and laughter aimed at Richard. Curiosity made me steal a quick glace.

In the table was a small ring box with a jewels name on in and Geneva written beneath it. Clear purchase while he had been away, before this all started. As I was looking Richard snapped the box open and inside was a diamond and sapphire ring.

I just looked at it in confusing.

Richard loud voice filled my head but I was still struggling to make sense of this new reality.

‘Janet, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

In a quiet voice, just for me. ‘To love, honour and obey?’

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry so did both. I took me a few seconds before I was in a coherent state to reply.

One loud “Yes” followed by three soft yes’s just for Richard to hear.

Miraculously I bottle of champagne arrived and six glass that was all consumed within minutes.

Richard stated that he had already paid the bill, I have no idea how, and he and I had other commitments.

From the back of his chair appear his coat and beneath that was my fully length, wet look, plastic, rain coat that I had not worn for years.

As I leant forward, he slipped it onto my arms and then I firmly wrapped it around myself before I stood up.

‘I am not let any of you lot kiss my fiancée before I have safely put a wedding ring on her finger.’

With that Richard shook hands with all his friends and we left.

The roller coaster of emotions within me meant I still didn’t know want to say to Richard so we just walked silently to the car. Richard accompanied me to the passenger’s door, as though he was going to open it for me. He didn’t, instead he passed me a black plastic bag.

‘You dirty girl, you’re not sit in my car soaking wet in piss. Coat and skirt off and into the bag and then dry your self off with your top. And if I was you I would duck down a bit in case anyone else comes into the car park.’

I did not question my instruction I just start to do as I had been told.

‘And secondly you broke your promise you give me, to do as I told you, so when we get home I am going to have to think of a punished for your undisciplined fanny. And as you didn’t manage to keep your promise I am going to have to extend our new relationship for a few more days.’

I just smiled, we both knew that I was now utterly his possession, but he was also mine.