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From: Christine@Ms-Christine.com
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: The Governor's Wife - Part Twenty-Two
Date: Wed, 27 Jul 2005 20:42:57 +0000
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===================
Warning: This story is about non-consensual domination. It is
fiction, but it is in my opinion very erotic - despite or perhaps
partly because it is non-consensual.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The Governor's Wife
by Victor Bruno
Part Twenty-Two
Frank Lander stood before a sink in the kitchen, up to his elbows
in suds. He was washing Hettie's 'smalls' .... scores of pairs of
knickers, brassieres, slips, nighties. Delicate, lacy, frilly
garments. It was hard to relate them to the vicious woman who
wore them. Frank felt the humiliation of his task. And Hettie had
emphasised it as "woman's work" by making him wear a pair of
knickers. However, they were not of the brief, sexy kind which
Hettie favoured, but a voluminous pair, pink and elasticated, of
the kind worn by Victorian matrons! How Hettie had laughed at the
sight of him! Oh yes, it was very, very funny ....
All the time the clock on the wall ticked nearer to twelve ....
and something like panic gripped Frank when he saw there was only
an hour and a half to go. Could she really mean it? Could she be
so sadistically cruel? No .... surely not. She was trying to
scare him. Cane him, she would, but not to that extent. It was
barbaric.
The washing finished, rinsed and rung, was put in an automatic
dryer.
"I hope I don't find any fault with your work," said Hettie when
she returned to the kitchen. "Now put up the ironing-board,
dearie." Her eyes sparkled mischievously. "Oh, if only you could
see yourself!"
Frank felt himself colouring with embarrassment and fury. What an
exquisite joy it would have been to wring this woman's neck!
The ironing board went up, the iron was switched on, and a
basketful of pretty undies was dumped on the kitchen table.
"If you scorch anything, I'll scorch you," said Hettie, pushing
the hot iron near to Frank's flesh. He shied away. She would,
too, he thought. "Now get on with it ...."
Frank picked up the iron. It was a chore he was quite
unaccustomed to. He would have to go very, very carefully.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
At a quarter to twelve, Frank was considering the possibility of
escaping from the house, running over to the prison naked, and
throwing himself on the mercy of the Governor .... or, at any
rate, someone in authority there. Action would have to be taken,
surely?
But what form would it take? Being smashed to a pulp?
Being put in the can for months on end?
Being disposed of entirely?
They would say he had gone crazy. Run berserk. Something like
that. Yes .... they'd close ranks alright. Hettie and everyone
else concerned would get clean away with it. He would be the only
sufferer....
Frank nearly jumped out of his skin as Hettie came suddenly into
the kitchen. He glanced up at the clock.
"Yes, only ten minutes now, wanker," she said. "So let's have
those lovely knickers off, shall we, so I can see the arse I'm
shortly going to cane."
Frank put down the iron and thankfully removed the ridiculous
garment. Then, without warning, he received an excruciatingly
sharp Karate chop on the side of his neck. In an instant, he had
fallen unconscious. It was the same sort of blow Hettie had given
him once before. She was taking no risks with her victim
struggling or panicking as the dread moment approached. Better to
have him lifeless, even if he was somewhat heavy to handle.
Hettie's eyes lighted on the rubber-roller mangle which Frank had
recently been using. That would do nicely, she thought. It would
not be the first time she'd had some hapless male over it. Even
Robert.
She pulled Frank up and draped him over the top roller. Then his
wrists were corded to one set of supports whilst the lower part
of his thighs were corded to the other. He was, to say the least,
most conveniently presented to receive his punishment, his
well-muscled hindquarters forming a continuous curve.
Then Hettie picked up a pair of her well-ironed panties, screwed
them into a ball, and thrust them into Frank's mouth. One of her
slips, folded into a slim length, made a convenient strip for
keeping the gag in. She covered Frank's mouth, then tied the slip
in a tight knot at the back of his neck. Though the kitchen and,
indeed, the whole house was sound proofed, it seemed appropriate,
in view of his recent duties, that Frank be effectively gagged in
that fashion. Besides, on this occasion, she didn't think she
wanted to listen to the awful din he was certainly going to make!
Smelling salts brought Frank back to life.
As his eyes opened, the acrid fumes caused tears to stream from
his eyes. Hettie allowed a few moments for his head to clear.
"I hope you're comfortable, wanker," she said. "In case you're
not aware of it, you're tied over the mangle. No chance of
twisting your backside out of the way."
She saw the terror fill Frank's tear-filled eyes. He shook his
head from side to side and snorted piteously.
"Also, I should tell you you've got a pair of knickers of mine
stuffed in your mouth. That's a treat isn't it, you randy swine.
You like knickers, don't you? Give you a kick don't they? You
like taking them off a girl, too, eh? Just think where those
knickers of mine have been, boyo, and now they're filling your
mouth."
Frank kept on shaking his head from side to side and snorting.
There was an anguished pleading as well as terror in his
wide-staring eyes. Hettie smiled at him. No man could have felt
more helpless; more completely at the mercy of a woman.
Hettie walked round to the rear of the mangle. "Now let me remind
you why you're where you are," she said. Then, putting her hand
between Frank's parted thighs she took hold of his penis and
yanked down. Frank whinnied and jerked in his bonds. "Because of
this thing," continued Hettie. "Because, in your disgusting lust
you could not keep your filthy paws off it."
She gave another yank before releasing Frank's organ, then walked
back round the mangle, picking the cane up off the kitchen table
as she did so. Smiling again, she flexed the instrument right
before Frank's petrified eyes.
"This is what I'm going to lay across your backside, wanker,"
said Hettie smiling again. "You've felt it before, so you've some
idea of what it's like...."
Frank's snorting increased, his nostrils flaring, eyes even more
desperate.
"Twenty four strokes, wanker," continued Hettie, still flexing
the supple rod. "You didn't exactly enjoy eighteen, did you? So
the extra six will be quite memorable, I am sure."
A wild shaking of the head from Frank, eyes even wider in
desperation. He did indeed remember the eighteen and the thought
of twenty four coming was unbearable. But there he was, bound
utterly helpless, knowing there was nothing he could do about it.
As sure as night followed day, this vicious sadist was going to
do exactly as she said.
Hettie bent forward, her face close to Frank's. She was in no
hurry. It was all part of her pleasure to keep her victim
waiting, stretching his nerves to snapping point.
"And let me tell you something else, Frank," she said in a low,
vibrant voice, "the other day, I wasn't going flat out. Today,
I'm going to give each stroke everything I've got!"
URL <a href="http://www.mschristine.com/bruno.html">Bruno
Books</a>
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