A Very Unusual Present to Myself E-Book

S.M. Ackerman

• Herausgeber: pinkflamingo
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015

Beschreibung

With a compelling desire to be punished, Mary (as a birthday treat to herself) contacts a Dominant she finds through a kinky magazine advertisement. She meets with “Sir” for her first dose of corporal punishment, and very soon finds herself falling under the total control of this discipline master. However, “Sir” has his own ideas with regards to Mary’s future, along with his own methods of ensuring her obedience to his will. Mary becomes part of his household and her master’s expanding stable of slave girls. When jealousy between slaves rears its ugly head, hard decisions need to be made, along with some painful consequences. Eventually, Mary is sent to “The College” for training, where she’s placed under the strict control of a highly experienced madam and turned into a ponygirl.

Leseprobe

A Very Unusual Present to Myself

by S.M. Ackerman

ISBN: 978-1-942331-43-8

A Pink Flamingo Ebook Publication

Copyright © 2015, All rights reserved

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means, including mechanical, electronic, photocopying recording or otherwise without prior written permission of the publishers.

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Dedication

To the staff at Pink Flamingo who print them so prettily

And to the readers who enjoy them, many thanks.

S.M. Ackerman

Chapter One

My real name is Mary and I am twenty-one and a bit now, I live with my parents still, though that might soon be changing. I work as a secretary in a large legal firm and have had quite a sheltered upbringing. Well that’s me, sweet, mostly innocent and desperate. Do not get me wrong, I have had a few boyfriends, but none of them came close to providing me with the one thing I really wanted. I suppose if you, the reader of this, my story are to understand my desires, and what I ended up doing to ensure that they occurred; I must start at the beginning and tell my tale in detail, so this is what happened and where my desires eventually took me. This is the tale of my journey into slavery, it all started with a desire on my part to be soundly spanked.

***

I was eighteen, bored, away from school, and as on most days, I met up with a few friends in the local park. We sat around looking I suppose like so many other groups of teenagers; harmless and not doing anything besides killing an hour before returning home.

It was Lou who found the magazine and Lou that thought it funny enough to show to us. She had been to the loo (quite apt really), the magazine was in there discarded on the floor. She had picked it up, flicked through it and then hastily returned to show us her prize.

The magazine was one of those adult books the sort that dealt with (as I soon found out) the forum of spanking and female domination. Instantly, I touched the cover, a shock of electric desire exploded through me. When I opened it and saw the first picture of a girl, skirt up, being caned, the shock returned. Something about the picture excited my imagination. Anyway the magazine got passed around and laughed at, I watched my friends carefully trying to see if any of them reacted to its contents like I had. They didn’t, which left me feeling confused but also determined to own that magazine, and to read it most carefully.

Time to go and I had the magazine held safely clutched in my fist, I offered to dispose of it and no one argued. Like hell I was going to dump it, I intended to read it from cover to cover seeking out an explanation for my reaction.

That night I lay in bed reading and studying the images. I know what they mean now when they laughingly say ‘wanking can send you blind’. I nearly burned the pages with my intense study. That night I dreamed a montage of dreams, all with me being the victim and some stranger doing the disciplining of my bared and presented bottom. With hindsight I know that those dreams, and that magazine, were the starting point of a desire. One that would eat me up, until I finally obtained the position of subservience I desired, and clearly, I believed needed.

Six months before my twenty-first birthday, and having failed at every turn to get what I wanted from my boyfriends, I made the decision to act. I searched the Internet looking at adverts and images, until finally one particular screen grabbed my attention.

That screen was not a glossy expensive site, it was instead constructed of simple type, but to the point, and it offered a service that I desperately wanted. The ad said:

NAUGHTY BOYS AND GIRLS IN NEED OF DISCIPLINE

SHOULD CONTACT SIR.

I contacted Sir that night from my bedroom, Sir responded with a demand to know exactly what and why I felt I needed discipline. Something I had not expected but should have I suppose. I spent the rest of that night trying to come up with something that Sir might agree I deserved to be very soundly punished for, and guess what, I failed.

It was the next day at work that I got an idea; a member of the cleaning staff had been dismissed for pilfering. As the girls talked about it over lunch, I realized the confession I needed to make, well invent really. I have never stolen anything in my life, I am a good girl in reality, but one that wants to be punished and soundly thrashed. The dissection of my desires always leaves me feeling confused, why, I demanded of myself, do I so want someone to thrash me. To cane my bare bottom and make me feel like a pathetic naughty brat, preferably one getting exactly what she deserves. The answer eludes me, I have just had to accept that I want and need to be subjected and punished.

I E-Mailed Sir, stating that I was a thief, that I had stolen a magazine from my friends (and then just to add an extra reason for me being deserving of punishment) that I had lied to my friends as well. I confessed to sir that I told them I would dispose of it, but I had no intention of doing so, hence a lie of sorts.

Copy of my E-mail to Sir.

Sir,

I have to confess to you Sir that I am a thief; I stole a spanking/female domination magazine from a friend, and then I lied to all of my friends about it. I now feel so guilty that when I saw your advert, I decided that I had no other choice but to ask you Sir, if you would play judge, jury and executioner to me for my crimes. I am willing to accept any and all punishment decreed by you, if you will please agree to discipline me.

Carol.

As I have already told you my name is Mary, you may be wondering why I have signed my name as Carol. I am scared of being identified, so I decided to use another name for my disciplining by Sir. It also makes the prospect of what I had instigated for myself more exciting. The opportunity to become someone else, to sort of have an alter ego but one that can be made to suffer for my crimes as well felt quite arousing, so hence I signed myself as Carol.

Two weeks prior to my twenty-first birthday, I returned from a dull days work and found that Sir had sent me an E-mail, which I hastily opened. It was typical of every contact I have had so far from him – clear direct and to the point, with no hesitation or possibility of misunderstanding his intent.

Sir to Me E-Mail

Carol, I have considered your crimes and have decided that discipline is clearly deserved.

You will report to my front door (address provided) at 10am on the 17th. You will be dressed exactly as you were at the time of the offence.

I got to that point and thought ‘Oh shit’, I had been at school then so I would have been in full uniform. The thought of being back in my old school clothes, but at twenty-one years old came as quite a shock. I would also have to travel to his residence dressed that way, which was not local, and therefore meant using public transport. What if someone I know spotted me dressed in my uniform again. I considered finding somewhere to change into the uniform just prior to arriving at his home, but then I realized that he intends that my traveling would be a part of my punishment, a sort of humiliation to set the scene, I read on.

The financial cost of your discipline will be £500 pounds with twenty percent, £100 pounds being presented at the front door prior to entry. The balance in full to be in an envelope, which you will place upon entry where indicated.

£500 pounds was a hell of a lot money, nearly half a month of my earnings, and all for a sound spanking, but it was intended to be my special birthday present to myself. Therefore, if my savings took a hit, they took a hit. Much as I hoped to take a hit, I mean, well, lots of them really, five hundred pounds worth to be exact.

I had to look up train times and book tickets; I realized that ten in the morning at his house meant that I would be getting up early to go. Was I mad, I remember wondering, as I paid for my travel?

The next section had a heading, one that made me gasp, though why I could not tell you, but it did.

PUNISHABLE OFFENCES

1. Stealing a magazine

2. Lying.

3. Possession of stolen adult material.

4. Reading stolen adult material.

5. Manipulation of boyfriends without confession.

6. Any offence caused or liberty taken during punishment.

Six offences all neatly typed out so I understood exactly what I was letting myself in for. A little knot grew in my guts as I hit save and exited his message. I had made absolutely certain that I would arrive with plenty of time to spare when I had booked my tickets. It was only after I had booked them that I realized that I would be standing around for an hour or more dressed as a school girl, and in a strange city. All whilst waiting to go to Sir’s to be soundly punished, he must have known that was what would happen, the crafty B…...

The last lines of Sir’s message had reverberated in my thoughts, it had said:

I will require of you an E-mail stating clearly that you give permission in full, and accept my decision as to the nature of your punishment, and its application to yourself.

I had better reply. I do not want him thinking me tardy or not really accepting of his authority; so I quickly compiled a reply giving him the permissions he required of me.

Copy Of Permission E-Mail Sent To Sir.

Sir, I accept any punishment that you consider to be deserved. I accept and give full permission for you to administer to me, as you see fit and in anyway, method or with any implement, any level of discipline you require of me. I accept totally that I have requested you to punish me, and give you full permission to deal with me as you see fit.

Carol.

I remember that I nearly signed the wrong name, but I realized prior to sending it to him thankfully. I push the send button and my acceptance and commitment had been set in place. There was no way to get out of my well earned (and much wanted) discipline now, bar simply not turning up. The remaining two weeks until I had to attend dragged, my twenty-first birthday passed and finally the morning of my discipline arrived.

Chapter Two

All My Dreams Have Arrived Today

& My Train Trip To Dread

The day has finally arrived and dutifully I wake to the screech of my alarm clock. Today I will attend upon Sir; I am as ready mentally for the trial ahead as I can be. Unfortunately, my stomach is not, it is in free fall as a growing fear of what I have arranged to receive hits me. My uniform is hanging in my wardrobe, all neat and complete, even down to a rather un-sexy pair of white panties, and suitable socks. These he has demanded in a flurry of last second E-Mails, last night, stating that I attend dressed in my full school uniform and that includes my school socks and pants, which I never would consider wearing now-a-days, I being a sophisticated twenty-one year old. Orders are orders for me to obey, or at least they are today.

I get up, shower, taking my time, but soon the clock demands that I dress. The towel I am wearing as I sit on my bed looking at my school clothes all innocently hanging against my wardrobe door, has to go. With a quick tug, it tumbles to the bed, leaving me naked. A glance down shows everything I have, which as a package is not too bad really. My breasts are quite perky and to my horror my nipples are already erect. I have a slim stomach with only the slightest of bulges; and a thick bush of shaggy hair to hide my maidenly charms.

Already I can feel that part of my body is getting very hot and quite damp. I stand up, reaching out, removing the hanger from the wardrobe laying my ordered clothes out ready for dressing. With a final deep sigh of resignation I take up the large pants and pulled them on, making sure that they seat comfortably. Next I put on a matching white quite plain bra, and swiveled it into place; thus hiding my erect nipples from my sight. Then for the blouse, again white and buttoned up to my neck; all prim and proper.

My old Headmistress would have been surprised but pleased, as I had always had the top buttons open. Today I decide to look as smart and compliant as possible. I clearly remember the last line of Sir’s punishment list and want to avoid receiving any extra discipline, as I think I am in enough trouble already. The skirt is black, knee length and pleated slightly. The socks are white and fit tight around my calves; so I have grown a little I realize. That only leaves my shoes, black, clumpy lace ups, the perfect school shoes. I look at myself in my full-length mirror, staring at the smart young woman looking back at me. Both of us, me and my reflection, knowing that soon I will be suffering because of my confession. Probably I will not look to sir as though butter will not melt in my mouth, but right now I sort of do.

I pull on a rain Mack which covers most of what I am wearing not strictly what Sir will expect I am sure but I have decided that I will remove it once I am on the train. The bus ride to the train station goes well, eight in the morning on a Saturday the buses are quite empty. There is only an old man sitting half-way down the bus, I can feel him watching me, perhaps wondering where his youth went, and then again more likely thinking, if only.

I decide that wearing the Mack is directly and deliberately being naughty so I take it off, making sure that the old man notices; well I can give him a treat of sorts. That also goes for the bus driver as I flounce off the bus, right outside of the train station. I half turn, grinning at both and with a casual wave I depart; little do they know what I am departing to do, but I bet they would both approve.

The station platform is almost empty, that is but for two women standing at the far end. They glance at me, one smirks saying something to her companion and then they both studiously ignored me from then on. The train is on time, and once I have boarded and having placed my carryall on the floor, which contains my purse phone along with a folded up Mack I try to relax. I should point out that for safety reasons I have left a letter under my laptop at home detailing exactly where I am going, not that I think there is any real danger from Sir, except to my bottom. All the same, and as mum always says, ‘safety first, stay in touch and let us know where you are, so if something happens we will at least know where to start looking for you.’

I arrive in the city an hour and a half early so I seek out a coffee-bar and have a toasty and drink; prior to hailing a taxi and giving the address I need to go to. Eighteen minutes later, I am on the outskirts of the city, standing at the gatepost of a drive which leads up to a large old looking house. In there I hope that I am soon to meet my fate, the butterflies react perfectly, grabbing and twisting at my guts in fear.

Taking a deep breath I approach the wooden front door and reach hesitantly out for the bell. It is one of those pull type, a single tug brings to my ears the distant clang of a bell ringing. Too late now girl, I say to myself as I wait for the door to open. Too bloody late now I repeat. The door opens revealing a tall thin man, standing upright and stiff looking in the doorway, looking down at me from nearly a foot higher than I am standing on his drive.

“Ah yes, Carol, I believe you have something for me?”

I panic for a second, crouch down quickly reaching into my bag, I remove the letter containing the first installment of one hundred pounds; exactly as he has specified. Inside the envelope with the letter is a note signed and dated today by me, giving him permission to apply any discipline to me and in any way that he sees fit, just so he knows that what ever he inflicts on me is still ok. I stand up, my head slightly bowed as I hold out the envelope to him with my hand trembling slightly.

“Thank you, Carol, remain there please.”

He shuts the front door, not with a slam of apparent disgust, but smoothly and quietly; as though I am nothing of any importance to him. Leaving me outside waiting on his doorstep, my butterflies now take full reign.

The instant feeling of being under his complete control, coupled with the humiliation of being made to wait hits me hard. Let alone the feeling of standing outside his front door dressed as some parody of a schoolgirl, I realize this is exactly his intention for me to feel, suddenly I realize exactly what he has done to me. I have become the schoolgirl waiting desperately, feeling scared outside of the Headmistresses office. I glance around nervously, turning left then right, then around. My eyes meet those of an old man passing the distant gate; he is looking back at me. He stops, probably in shock as he sees me; little can he realize what a pathetic naughty girl he is looking at. He probably only sees an attractive if slightly oddly dressed young woman. I smile at him; he looks away and scurries off about his business. Behind me, the front door opens once more.

“What do you think you are doing, girl? I told you to wait there, not look about and twist and turn. When I say wait there, I mean exactly there, exactly as you are; with no movement, no nosiness, just obedience. This will never do, you need to have a lesson in obedience!”

He seems cross; as I turn to face him our eyes meet and lock on each other. Nothing matters to me right then other than the fact that I have Sir before me, and he is clearly annoyed with me. For causing him that annoyance with my disobedience, I am sure to pay a very steep price. Already I have been naughty in both of our eyes, though un-intentional in mine.

“Kneel down!”

I kneel, feeling the gravel digging into my knees.

“Hands behind your back, girl!”

I instantly respond, my hands flying behind my back, clamping together, waiting and wondering what he intends to do to me next.

“Now wait there until I am ready to attend to you!”

Attend to me, the echo and barely concealed threat of his words rotates through my thoughts. Swamping out everything else as he again shuts the front door in my face, and once more vanishes from my sight. Leaving me this time determined to remain exactly as he has ordered me, and all without him so much as touching me even once.

I look forward and up waiting for the door to open again, time drags on. I wondered what the old man who had seen me earlier would now make of me, if in returning he stops and looks along this driveway.

Now he will see a naughty young woman under discipline, there cannot be any other interpretation he can make. I hope that he does return and does see me, even though I will not see him. The humiliation begins to bloom, much like a rose under glass as I picture what I will look like to him. Will he stop and just watch to see what is going to happen, or will he do something else. What that might be, I do not have a clue, but just the thought of him wanting to do something else has already made me dampen my panties in excitement.

The front-door opens just then, disturbing my budding erotic fantasy.

“Enter, girl!”

He stands aside revealing a long passageway with stairs to the left hand side. A wooden door, a closed wooden door acts as a barrier at the far end of the hall; shutting me off from what awaits there. I get up from my kneeling position; I cannot resist taking a quick glance over my shoulder in the hope of seeing the old man standing at the gate. He isn’t there, but in my mind he had been, and I hope that he had enjoyed seeing my humiliation. I enter Sir’s home, being careful to squeeze past Sir, the door closes behind me with a terrifying click of finality, I have arrived and I am helpless now.

“Turn right, girl!”

His whole tone is somehow neutral, as though he has said such things to girls like me many times. He probably has, I realize as I enter into the front-room of his home. The furniture is sparse, austere in feel, but practical as an office. An old deep rich black desk stands in the bay window, a chair behind it. In front of that desk, closest to me is a straight-backed wooden seated chair.

“Sit, girl!” He points toward the wooden one.

I take the hard chair whilst he walks around the desk and sits down. On the table is a printout of my E-mail to him, the one containing my soul felt admission of guilt. In addition, the envelope I had handed to him, the one containing exactly one hundred pounds in crisp new ten-pound notes is there. I had thought tens would look more impressive, now I realize that my being able to impress him will have little to do with any pathetic little showy props.

He picks up the print out, flicking the money and envelope into an open draw with evident contempt as he looks across at me. I cannot meet his eyes, so ashamed do I feel sitting before him. Somehow, I feel as though I have betrayed him by my behavior. This powerful feeling amazes me as we have never met before, why do I feel so, well, what can I say other than naughty and culpable.

“So this is what you consider acceptable behavior from a young lady, is it?” he demands.

I remained looking down not trusting my voice to reply.

“Well, girl, answer me!”

“No.”

“No, what?”

With a quick gulp I recognize my mistake and repeat clearly, after tilting my head up briefly to glance across the bare expanse of his desk.

“No, Sir,” I say, then my head lowers again showing my discomfort, hiding my fear and yes, shame.

“You appear to have enough about you to accept that you have been disgusting, and have sought to confess and accept punishment for your crimes. Is that correct girl; are you ready to accept your punishment, to pay your due penance?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good, than I can see no reason why we should not proceed, can you?”

“No, Sir.”

“Stand up, hands behind your back.”

His commands fill the air between us, I jump up as though given an electric shock and with my hands flying behind my back. I look down still unable to face him, he is my judge, jury and executioner, and I am his culprit. I am feeling fully now the fear that all naughty girls throughout time have felt, as they await sentence for their behavior.

He holds my detailed confession, reading it whilst effectively ignoring me. Then once he is finished he looks up, leaning back into his chair, considering carefully, before finally speaking.

“According to this confession, a friend of yours, another girl found an adult magazine, dealing with the subject of naughty girls getting bound and punished, is that correct?”

“Yes, Sir.” I wonder if he can hear the quaver creeping into my voice.

“This girl then passed the magazine around your gathered friends and eventually it arrived at you.”

“Yes, Sir, it did.”

“You took the magazine and presumably looked at the cover quite carefully, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Did you see the clearly printed warning stating eighteen years or over, not for minors, etc., so you knew right then that it was an adult themed magazine?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“So you decided to open and glance through this magazine, what did you see?”

“Umm,” I hesitated not wanting to tell him what I had seen, but knowing that he was going to insist.

“Well, girl?”

“There were lots of pictures of girls bent over getting smacked or worse!”

“Those pictures interested you, did they not?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“So let me see, you knowingly decided to indulge in reading pornographic material, not something I am sure that your parents might approve of, even though it was legal for you to read, is that the case, girl?”

The emphasis on that simple word ‘girl’ is getting more and more positive. He is waiting for me to speak, sitting there in his chair with his hands steepled before him. Knowing full well that I am about to confess to letching at the pictures. He understands that I have little choice but to face up to my feelings of guilt, and knowing I am sure, exactly what he intends to do so that I may make reparations for my confessed offences. I did not even realize that I had committed this moral offence, but he did, and now I do, and I accept my crime of letching.

“Yes, Sir, I knew I was being naughty, well sort of!”

“Sort of, girl, you either were or you were not being naughty, which is it?”

He has forced me to the point of confession, and so easily. I confess as I have no other option.

“Yes, Sir, I was deliberately naughty but only because I wanted to look at the pictures and read the girls’ stories.”

“Now we are getting somewhere, girl. What happens to naughty girls?”

I know the answer to this one, so sucking in a deep breath I say.

“They get punished, Sir!”

“This first offence is not too serious seeing that you were of an age to read such material, but still it warrants punishment because I believe you realized that your parents would not approve of you doing so. I have decided that a sound spanking is called for, would you agree that a spanking is both fair and just girl, considering the offence committed?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He is going to spank me, something happens as I say ‘Yes Sir’, a deep throb rips through my stomach, emanating from my secret place. I am about to be spanked for the very first time, just as all the naughty girls in my magazine were spanked. He stands up and walks around the desk; he is now sitting himself on the chair I have so recently vacated.

He points to a spot on the floor next to him, half a turn and two steps later I am standing looking down at his trouser covered thighs.

“Bend over, girl.”

Such a simple sentence, ‘bend over, girl’. I bend, lowering myself hesitantly across his lap. His legs protrude outward below me; they are long, spindly, and somewhat spidery. His body is short in proportion to his legs, but the effect when he stands is that he is tall. How hard am I going to get spanked I wonder, as I deliberately wiggle further across his lap. Will it be on the bare like in the magazine, or will he settle for spanking me over my skirt?

I am soon to realize that he will always administer punishments in the most effective and humiliating way. He used his legs, jiggling my bent body into a more comfortable position for him, not for me. I feel his fingers touch the hem of my school skirt and slowly lift it, before neatly folding it upward across my back to reveal my panty clad bottom to him. Those same fingers slip into the waistband and slowly pull my panties down until they reveal my lilywhite, totally unblemished, and I hope highly spankable virginal buttocks to his gaze, and soon his hand.

He pats my neatly presented buttocks, much like an owner pats an obedient dog. The electricity of arousal explodes from my soaking quim, as I await my first ever dose of corporal punishment. My very first spank when it arrives is no gentle introduction, his hand thrashes down, his palm slaps my flesh right in the center of my right cheek; and then it departs. I need not have worried it soon returns, and my first spanking is underway. The pain explodes as my bottom jerks, I gasp out, only to be told to remain silent; some hope as he tattoos my buttocks. Slap follows slap, drifting and covering every inch of my bare bottom. His fingers piteously lash at my crease and thighs, catching me unaware, as like all punished girls I writhe through my discipline.

This, my first spanking, is by definition a fine, soundly administered, perfectly applied application of the spankers art. There is no doubt in my mind as to its perfection and effect. I receive forty or so very hard slaps, and by the sixth I am biting my lip, and beginning to feel the first trace of a wail of despair. I try to bite back my cries, I even succeed until he has given me my first dozen spanks, but then my wails burst from me.

They do nothing to slow or reduce my spanking though; he has set a target I think. He is as dedicated as he is strict, and so my poor bottom is going to receive each and every single pain inducing slap, each tenderizing loving kiss his target demands of me.

Sir finally finishes administering my first spanking and then he orders me to my feet. Following up on his instruction by sending me to the far corner of his office, where he makes me tuck up my skirt whilst keeping my knickers around my thighs, at half-mast. Once satisfied with my obedience and position he returns to his desk and the papers he removes from within it. My humiliation floods my thoughts as I stand looking at the blank wall, knowing that he might be looking at my rosy bottom cheeks.

Finally, he calls me back to his desk; I hobble over trying to hold my panties around my knees, mortified at the thought of them dropping to hobble my ankles. The pain, or rather the smarting of my spanking has faded quite a lot, but not completely as I halt before him, wondering what next. On the desk before him, resting all innocent but out of place is a single leather soled slipper. I gulp at its presence, the slipper fills my thoughts, and my bottom twitches slightly as my muscles contract in expectation.

“Now then let’s see what you did next, young lady.”

I straighten up slightly, not daring to meet his eyes, waiting, unable to say anything as my mouth feels so dry.

“After you opened the magazine and saw the contents did you immediately pass it on, or did you read through it?”

“I flicked through it looking at the pictures, Sir.”

“You looked at the pictures, you studied the naughty girls and boys being spanked and tied up, was that when you decided to keep the book?”

“Yes, Sir, I wanted to read it in more detail because it interested me.”

“So what happened next, presumably you had to pass it around.

“Yes, Sir, Stella wanted a look after me, and then there was some laughter about the content, and then we had to go home.”

“Your friends found the content funny, but you didn’t, did you?”

“No, Sir.”

I could feel my cheeks getting hot and I don’t mean my bottom cheeks, they were finally cooling down after my spanking.

“How did you obtain the magazine, and what did you do with it once you had it?”

“Umm, I…”

I took a deep breath, he is going to get the truth out of me and I realize that to say anything that is not true to him will make my presence, and first real disciplining, a complete waste of his and my time. So I take that breath and gush out my whole torrid confession.