Wednesday, 9 August 2017

Why DD?

Dan over at disciplined husbands and disciplinary wives blogspot posed the question why do we wish to live in a DD relationship? So these were my thoughts on the matter: 

Our DD started with spanking games and progressed to DD. Why? Because I think we were both looking for something extra than just playing games.

I’ve analysed this to death in my head and I’m the one who initiated it – but Mistress is the one who fully embraced it. I was already very submissive sexually and we had played out the games of me being dominated and punished.

But it was just games and once I’d read about DD and female led relationships on line I was excited to realised there would be a way to combine my ‘need’ to be punished (I’d had a fascination with CP since school) and living in a relationship where I had to conform to my partner’s wishes rather then do as I pleased. 

I was married before I met Mistress and while the marriage failed through issues on both sides, one of my ex-wife’s complaints about me was that I was lazy, didn’t do the chores and left everything to her to do in the house.

So one thing in my new relationship that worried me was what would happen if  - or should I say when, because it was inevitable - I should slip back into my old way.

Mistress had come out of a miserable relationship where her confidence had taken a battering so was unsure if she could assume a more dominant role she knew nothing about – she’d never heard of CP games until I introduced her to them. Having said that, I’d spotted from the outside that she had a rather ‘bossy’ streak……

So Mistress and I discussed DD in depth, and I explained my fears of slipping back into old ways. Mistress candidly pointed out that she had already seen traits in my behaviour that annoyed her and she was only too keen to exploit the rules of DD to ensure they didn’t become an issue.

She had already spotted that I liked to do things my way, that I argued with her decisions, and that I didn’t show her enough respect. And she said she didn’t need telling that I had a lazy streak. She admitted the idea of her having more of an authoritarian appealed to her.

So we entered into a DD regime. Both of us agreed it brought a really exciting, emotional edge to the relationship. It definitely heighted our respect and love for each other – I truly believe it brought us much closer.  We also found the punishments helped clear the air, relieve stress.

There was nothing sexual about it though. Erotic maybe, corporal punishment between two partners is a very intimate experience - but we both treated it seriously. She applied the rules quick vigorously and the punishments were very real.

Too real, as I’ve said before. I went through a period of not being able to cope with DD and real life and refused to be beaten once too often so Mistress called time on our DD until I sort myself out. I’ve gone through all this before, suffice to say, I still believe we’re better with DD than without it.

Our ‘vanilla’ relationship is fantastic but without DD it feels like anything goes and I think we both hanker for the more ‘regimental’ structured approached that we had. To get back there isn’t as simple as it sounds because it’s not just me who has to get my head around what’s needed. Thanks to my actions, Mistress’ confidence has been knocked and she’ll not assume the role she played before until she’s 100% certain I’ll live up to mine!

Saturday, 8 July 2017

Human coat hanger

This is the third in Roger's diaries that I'm written up following conversations with him about his life in service to a dominant Master and Mistress who have a strong pvc oilskin fetish as well as a need to dominate the boi…..

It’s been a strange few weeks in my submissive life, well, even stranger than ‘normal’. For example, I was used as a coat-stand by Master and Mistress when they had guests over for dinner.

It was a very different experience. I had to stand by the door, naked and when the two guests arrived suitably attired in rubber rainwear, Master hung the items on me!

I found it terribly humbling to be seen naked by their friends – it’s not the first time, but it still doesn’t feel right. But my thoughts soon turned to enduring the challenge Master and Mistress had set me.

I had two SBR mackintoshes placed over my head, a pair of rubber Hunters draped around my neck, joined together at the buckles by a piece of elastic, and another pair that I had to hold out, one in each hand.

I had to stand there for a full hour and could feel the sweat dripping down my face. My arms were killing me and I began to get dizzy with the lack of oxygen and the overpowering odour of rubber.

I finally dropped one of the Hunters at which point a very angry Master told me to go and place all the clothing in the spare bedroom.

When I came back downstairs Master greeted me with a cane in his hand. It was a thin, whippy bastard of a cane, the one that really stings and makes me yelp.

He caught hold of me by the ear and led me into the dining room with his guests. “This is the culprit who has interrupted our dinner party. I’m going to have to punish him. I hope you don’t mind.”

Both guests welcomed the idea and Mistress added, “give the boi a good thrashing darling.”

A thrashing I got. Master bent me over his high-backed chair and gave me a dozen hard, fast strokes. There was no time to recover between strokes and after six or seven I began to yelp.

Barbie doll mackintosh

Last Sunday I had to drive Master and Mistress to the seaside to visit their daughter. It was quite a pleasant sunny day, quite warm weather yet nowhere seemed too busy.

Their daughter, who I’ve had very little to do with, is very attractive and was quite amiable towards me, where Master and Mistress are much more distant to maintain their authority over me. She decided we should all go for a walk along the seafront.

The only problem was that Master asked his daughter to get ‘the mackintosh for the boi to wear. I was horrified when she came down stairs clutching a bright red shiny pvc raincoat – which was decorated with barbie doll images all over it.

I could see the wry grin on her face as Master took it off her and threw it at me.

“Put this on boi, button it up, fasten the belt and turn up the collar.  Hopefully, it’ll help you remember your place. You’ll keep it on until we say you can take it off. You’ll walk three steps behind us at all times.

She stepped forward to fasten the buttons and cinched up my waist belt really tight. Then she made a great effort to turn up the collar – and run her hands up my face.

“There you are mummy and daddy, I think your boi looks quit fetching in his plastic mac, don’t you,” she teased in her best baby voice…..

I felt awful and was dreading going out. But what choice did I have? The one thing I’ve learned as a salve is you have to do as you are told no matter how distasteful something is. As we stepped out into the street I felt sick with embarrassment and wondered what it is that drives me to behave like this. But then that’s the way of a submissive.

The weather seemed to get warmer and warm as the morning went on while we walked along the sea front but I wasn’t allowed to take my mackintosh off. I felt very conspicuous so I tried to avert my gaze from people and just follow by Master, Mistress and their daughter who walked casually along, without a care in the world and no hint that they owned me!

When Mistress said, “Shall we stop for a tea,” I thought I’d die. Having to go in a tea shop and stand there while we were seated was awful. I noticed just how many looks I was getting. I saw and chap whisper to his wife and they busrt out in a fit of giggles.

The waitress, in the very period outfit Master and Mistress have me in sometime, showed them to the table. Mistress said, “sit there boi,” to me as loudly as she could for everyone to hear.

I started to undo the top button on my mackintosh. “I told you boi, the mackintosh says on until we get back home, said Master quite sternly. Mistress tutted. “You wait till we get you home,” she hissed in my ear.

I looked around to see the gent and his wife still smirking. They must have heard the exchange. Other’s were taking glances too. I flushed as red as the mackintosh. And I was overheating as I drank my tea. I could feel the sweat dribbling inside.

It was a miserable walk because I knew I’d be punished.

In the hallway their daughter undid my mackintosh and slipped it off my shoulders. Master told me to strip naked and took me to the front room. He handed me over to Mistress who was sat down, beckoning me over her lap. In her hand she held the rubber slipper she favours so much.

As I bent forward the daughter’s and my eyes met. She was smiling, licking her lips.

My spanking was fast and furious, with Mistress lecturing me about my bad behaviour in public, and who did I think I was trying to take my mackintosh off when it had been expressly forbidden.

Being slippered is very painful. The hard rubber on the poor bottom causes blistering and covers a larger area than the cane - but given a choice I think it would always be the slipper.

Once again my punishment solicited tears and as I got up, wet faced and broken, the daughter was still looking at me, smiling. “He’s such a baby mummy,” she said sweetly.

“Maybe that’s what the boi needs,” said Master grumpily. “That would give him something to cry about.”  

Real men and oilskins

The worshipping of ‘Real Men’, comes into play a lot with Master and Mistress. So often since I started serving them they’ve dressed me up in dirty old oilskin mackintoshes – so I have to smell the old fabric that’s impregnated with sweat and old hair cream - and lick the filth off it.

It’s down to the fact that I’m five feet tall and a very skinny sissy maid, where  Master is over six foot, very thick set and very much a ‘man’s man’. Mistress is a strong Lady too so it’s no wonder they pick on me as being their ‘sissy little wimp – and delight in telling me. They love to tell me how the old oilskins were worn by ‘Real Men’ who did real hard labour to earn a living, people who lived on the edge, on fishing boats, in the forestry commission, on building sites. ‘Real men’ compared to this little sissy who finds it hard work dusting and polishing – and is so weak and pathetic he can’t even take a little bit of physical discipline.

The thing is, the pair of them both look fantastic when they don their heavy oilskin mackintoshes and wellingtons for a punishment session. Even without the kind of submissive Streak like mine, I think it would be hard for any man to resist their authority.

So when it suits them they purposely dig out the old oilskins and pvc macs from their rainwear collection, the ones that are badly stained and really have a strong odour for me to wear. And it seems if they can find the matching trousers with stains on, then they are in their element and really enjoy putting me to ‘worship,’ as they call it.

They love to humiliate me and realised long ago that I was susceptible to such treatment when they witnessed my previous Master making me sniff his crotch through his leather trousers one time, and ordering me to do the house-cleaning while wearing a pair of his used boxers tide over my nose and mouth. My present Master and Mistress haven’t done that to me yet but there’s been plenty of other torments.

The problem in these dressing up sessions is that I can’t control myself and I nearly always end up coming in the rainwear. You can imagine how I have to clean up the mess. It makes me gag but what option do I have?

The bigger issue is that my lack of self control, as they put it, really angers them and invariably warrants punishment – slipper, leather paddle, strap and/or cane. And no matter whole doles out the beating, they both give it full force while the other just sits there encouraging ever more strokes.

Master service

Last weekend I arrived early on Saturday morning as arranged and changed into my PVC maid’s uniform. There was no sign of Master and Mistress, so I just carried on with cleaning routine as normal.
It must have been about 10 o'clock when Mistress shouted me to go upstairs and into her bedroom.

“Master is playing golf and will be home at lunchtime. I’m going shopping in Chester with my daughter and friends in the afternoon but, before that, I want you  to go into the attic and bring down the three big boxes that are up there and put them into Sarah’s old bedroom ready for me to sort through.”

I was quite excited by this because I’m not usually allowed in Sara’s room unsupervised. The door is usually locked, but from my cleaning duties in there when Mistress has been present, I knew that there was the most gorgeous shiny red pvc raincoat hung up in the wardrobe – a really heavyweight, long flowing 1960’s glossy mackintosh that I ached just to touch and smell.

I went into the attic and got the boxes. It was quite warm up there and I could feel myself starting to sweat, but doing as I was told I collected the boxes and put them in the bedroom.

Sara’s bedroom was like any other young girls room only tidier, mainly thanks to my labours, but still had posters on the wall – including an old Mary Quant advert with a girl in gleaming white, shiny plastic mackintosh that barely covered her bottom – and knee-high, go-go boots, also in shiny white pvc.

I heard Mistress go downstairs and quick as a flash I went straight to the wardrobe and took out the shiny red mackintosh.

At first, I just held it took a really deep intke of breath through my nose to wallow in the  gorgeous aroma of a young girl’s perfume, mixed with the delightful smell of stored pvc. It was especially delightful around the armpits  and I could feel myself becoming erect.

I knew I had to try it on and gently slid it up my arms and over my shoulders. Oh my good, it felt fantastic and fitted so well. I fastened the poppers, pulled the wrist straps tight and turned up the deep collar so the sticky-to-touch pvc rubbed my cheeks. I felt something in one of the pockets and pulled out a matching pvc souwester with an elasticated band for under the chin.

I stood admiring myself in the mirror, pulling different poses when Mistress came charging into the room, screaming at me get her daughters raincoat off.

“You pathetic pervert.  What do you think you are playing it. Get that mackintosh off now and hang it back up.”

I did as I was told, shaking so much I couldn’t get it to sit on the hanger properly and promptly dropped it on the floor.

“You oaf. Get it put away and get over here now boi. I’m going to teach you what happens to a filthy perverts in this house. Drop your knickers boi and get yourself bent over the back of the armchair this instant.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw her rummage through one of the boxes and pull out an old black and white Converse pump with a rubber toe cover at the end.... She then proceeded to start spanking me with it. The first six were bearable as the rubber sole connected with my bottom, but Mistress carried on and I lost count of how many whacks I got but I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes until I was crying like a little girl and wriggling from side to side, begging for her to stop, saying how sorry I was….

When Mistress eventually stopped, she had calmed down a little and told me to stand up. I was ordered to kiss the converse trainer and to apologise to Sara through her trainer. So there I was, a grown man speaking to the to a gym shoe, saying how sorry I was to steal the plastic mackintosh and thank it for my punishment.

Mistrss then told me to get out of the room and to carry on with my cleaning duties downstairs. Just as I was going down the stairs Master walked through the door and saw my tear-stained face. I knelt, kissed his feet then got up and put away his golf clubs while he went upstairs to see Mistress.

I served lunch at 12.30 to Master and Mistress, and sat at my little school desk and chair next to the dining room table and ate mine, Master and Mistress were discussing world events, his morning’s golf and her impending shopping trip.

I was completely ignored by both of them and hoped that Mistress hadn’t mentioned the mackintosh incident.

Eventually Mistress ordered me to get her black SBR mackintosh and help her on with it. After butting her up and fastening the wrist and waist belt, I stepped aside and watched her and Master embrace. Master definitely enjoyed his cuddles with his mackintosh-clad Lady and they maintain along, lustful snogging session when he findled frist her rubbery breast and then her bottom.

 She said her goodbyes to Master, informing him that she’d be home at around six. Master told me to clean the dishes and tidy the kitchen, the, once I’d finished I should report to him in the bedroom.
I knocked on Master’s bedroom door and waited feeling very nervous,because I thought he might be wanting to punish me further over the red mackintosh.

I was told to enter and saw Master sat at his computer. Without looking up he told me to strip completely and to put on the black oilskin cycle cape that was on his bed and to fasten all the studs around the neck which made it quite tight and hard to breath….

I did as i was told and felt a sense of security once the cape was on and the smell of oilskin wafted into my nostrils. I could feel myself getting hard again…..

Master stood up. He was wearing long rubber waders and nothing else. He went to his wardrobe and took out one of his long rubber mackintoshes, handed it to me and I held it up for him while he slid his arms into it. I pulled it over his shoulders, and went to stand in front of him. He handed me the matching rubber sou’wester which I placed onto his head and tied off the tassles under his chin......
Wow, he looked superb - a big muscly man dressed in rubber.

He ordered me to fasten his mackintosh, starting at the top and working my way down. So I did the first couple of buttons and then the storm flap around his neck. The sweet smell of rubber and Master were just so enticing, but I had to suppress my feelings and do as I was told.

I fastened the rubber belt around his waist, which only left then the last two buttons. I got down on my knees ready to do them when Master pulled the flaps apart showing me his very erect cock. I just naturally leaned forward and kissed it then ran my tongue up and down the long shaft, before eventually taking his balls in my mouth one at a time.

I could hear Master moaning above me and his hands going behind my head forcing me mouth down onto his cock ever harder, almost choking me as he was thrusting back and forth. My face was slapping against black rubber and I could feel myself going into sub space. My hands automatically went behind his back and I grasped his rubber-clad bottom, encouraging him to keep smashing my face into his mackintosh.

Master pulled out of my mouth and told me to get on his bed on my back with my legs dangling over the edge. I knew what was going to happen and was scared as I was an anal virgin and he knew this....
I felt something cold on my hole and knew Master was putting some lube there. I just prayed He would be gentle and I grabbed the bed covers in anticipation. I think my eyes spoke louder than any words could do.....Master just smiled and I could feel his cock at my hole. He was just pushing a little at a time, teasing me and by now I was lost and wanted the full shaft inside me.

Then I saw Master rummaging under the pillows and pull something out. He looked down at me and just smiled and held up what he got from the pillows. It was Sara’s shiny red pvc mackintosh.

He pulled the sou-wester from the pocket and proceeded to put it over my face with the elastic band at the back of my head. It soon created a vacuum but the smell of Sara, her perfume and pvc were just too much for me and I came instantley without even touching my penis.

Master thrust the mackintosh down over my face and pinned down the edges with his arms so I was gasping for breath while he kept on thrusting at my hole but never entering me. I suddenly felt his warm, gooey juice running over my bottom…..

We were both exhausted and slept for the next couple of hours, eventually getting up and clearing around before Mistress got home. The Master told me to put the red mackintosh on properly over my naked body, and the sou’wester and go and stand by the study door downstairs.

When Mistress arrived home, Master greeted her at the door. I could see them group each other again out the corner of my eye and then as Mistress pulled back, she said: “I see the boi is ready.”
“Yes darling, just as you asked.”

“Shall we get on with it then?” she said.

I was marched into the study where Mistress began to relate the tale of me taking advantage of my position to try and steal Sara’s mackintosh. No mention that I’d already been beaten for my crime. I daren’t say anything, thinking I was in enough trouble as it was.

“Well darling,” said Master. “I think we’ve only one choice but to thrash the boi.”

“I was hoping you’d say that darling. I think we’ll deal with him together.”

Master said: “Well boy, you look a frightful  little sissy in that shiny red mackintosh. We’re going to beat you for taking the mackintosh without permission. You’re lucky we’re not simply throwing you out. Mistress and I can’t abide people who steal – especially from their superiors.”

“I wasn’t stealing it Master. I…..”

“Silence boi.”

He walked over to the cupboard and brought over two cane – both of then thick, pliant bastards that I’d never see before.

“Well as you love that mackintosh so much you can keep it on while we thrash you, to remind you why you are suffering.”

Master handed both canes to Mistress. Then I watched as placed two dining room chairs back to back and draped a cushion over the chair backs.

“Kneel on one chair, there,” Said Master. “Then reach across to the chair on the other side.”

I’ve never been punished bent over like this and it’s difficult to move around with this mackintosh sticking to my skin. But I struggle into position then Masters, tugs at the skirt of the mackintosh and lifts it up over my back. I feel him tying my ankles in place on the chair seat, then he throws a loop of cord around the backs of my thighs and fastens me to the back of the chair. Then Mistress starts binding my wrists to the front chair. Oh Lord, what is this?

“You are no in what is known as the Winchester position boi. Note how your bare arse is raised up, inviting the cane to whip you, your lilly-white, sissy bum cheeks drum tight so the cane has maximum effect.”

I found myself weeping. Not a stoke had been given and I was crying uncontrollably. This was so awful. After the sexy afternoon we’d had together, suddenly we were back to Master and slave and I felt absolutely wretched. I know I was there to be used in his bedroom…. But it all seemed so unfair when Mistress knew she’d already given me a thorough spanking.

 “I don’t think the usual 12 is enough darling,” she said in such a matter-of-fact way.

“Goodness no. I was thinking it had to be at least double. The boi has done very wrong,” said Master, is if I wasn’t even there.

I try to wriggl around but can’t move, except to disturb the pvc of my mackintosh coating. A moment of silence is broken only by the rustle of pvc.

Master said: “Are you ready to start darling,” I assume they both have a cane each because I can hear the practice swishes being made, not quite in synchronisation. Swish-swish. Swish-shish.
“Don’t spare the boi. I want to see him suffer,’ Mistress said.

“Oh he will my dear.”

With that the canes came slashing down and thud across my bottom. Whack, whack. Two strokes almost together. One from each side.

These canes were far heavier and didn’t have that piercing sting. This was like thunder through my bottom. Then came a lasting, burning sting that seemed to throb in the same way when you whack your thumb with a hammer.

Whack-whack! Whack-Whack!

The beating was as horrendous as it was relentless. Very little time between strokes. No hint of batches of six or more. Just stroke and bloody awful stroke. The tewo of them applying the cane with full force.
I thing we got to 15 when I finally broke and started to yell. I’m sure I begged for it to end but Master just kept hurting me. And Mistress was chuckling after she made the count.

By the time it was over I was sweating profusely and shaking uncontrollably. My worst thrashing ever. And all because of this stupid red pvc mackintosh which right now I hated.

When it was over and I was stood facing Master and Mistress, I was ordered by Mistress to say thank you to them both by kissing their boots. And then kiss the cane.

Master then said: “Take off the mackintosh. And hold it in your hands. And now you will kiss the mackintosh and apologise to Sara for trying to steal it, and to the mackintosh itself for daring to put it on your pathetic sissy body….”

I did as I was told and then was dismissed and told my services were no longer required for the event and I may go home.

Tuesday, 4 July 2017

Caned by his superiors

I’ve become a slave to my dominant couple. My take on the difference between a sub and a slave is that a sub has the ability to top from the bottom where a slave does not and should never be given the chance to.

I have done some quite disgusting and degrading things whilst in service, some things that, given the choice, I would have opted out of, but being a slave I’ve always done exactly as I’m told.

The cynic may say if that is the difference, then the slave could ultimately be killed or at the very least seriously injured. My reply to that is that in a relationship with a Master, or Mistress, or in my case both, it’s all about trust. Trust in Your Superiors and they put their trust in you.

Typically I get a phone call to report to them and recently I was ordered around to their house to help tidy the garden up. Master wore a full length rubber raincoat, souwester and rubber wellingtons and looked so utterly superior and superb.

I was given a yellow pvc raincoat, which I later learned was an old one of their daughters and matching wellingtons, and worked for three hours whilst Master supervised.

After we had finished, I had to clean Master’s rubber garments, as well as the pvc raincoat and wellies that I wore. Cleaning their outdoor rubber clothing is quite an event in itself as they insist that I do it in a certain way, starting by licking the sweat out of the rubber souwester Master wears.

"Its the taste of a real man," he insists. “I also have to lick the sweat from the armpits of his rubber mackintosh before it and the sou’wester are polished a put away.

His rubber Hunters have to be licked spotlessly clean, but I am allowed a toothbrush and some water to help loosen the dirt first. But if he finds fault then I’m caned by him or Mistress...…

Mistress likes to force my face into the Hunter that isn’t up to standard and apologise to it as I’m being punished.

After cleaning the kit this time, I escaped a beating, but then had to write a note to their daughter thanking her for the use of her raincoat. Then we had lunch.

When lunch was finished and I’d cleared away the dirty crockery, Master told me that there was a little cleaning to be done and, being as I was pressed for time there was no need to change into my maid’s uniform. I breathed a sigh of relief. No punishment then.

But Mistress obviously saw the relief on my face. “But you will strip naked boi. Master went to the coat rack and unhitched a black oilskin cape. “Put this on boi.”

The cape was heavy, with that high gloss pvc that feels sticky to touch because it’s so shiny.

I did my chores as Master and Mistress sat in armchairs, casually watching me work.  I stood in front of them when I’d done.

“Have you finished?” Master asked.

“Yes Master.”

Mistress got up and walked over to the window. She ran her fingers along the pelmet, turned slowly with the two fingers outheld for Master to see.

“Oh dear boy.  A slack effort in the garden followed by a slack effort in the house.”

He got out of his chair and walked over to the tall cupboard. I knew what was kept in there. He pulled out a long whippy, crook-handled cane and a rubber slipper. He handed the slipper to Mistress.

“Over the table boi,” she ordered. I felt her lift the skirt of the cape and then came the onslaught of stinging whacks on my bare bottom. I’ve no idea how many she gave me, 20, 30 maybe, but they were hard.

Then I heard her says, “your turn darling,” and a split second later I yelped as the cane landed just on the top of my bare thighs. The cane strokes fell, hard and fast and I could feel tears being squeezed out of my eyes and down my cheeks.”

Master was out of puff by the time he’d finished.

“You are dismissed boi,” he said between deep breathes. “Back tomorrow at eight.”

One day I had to serve Master and Mistress wearing an old yellow, pvc oilskin cycle cape. Underneath, I was naked! The cape had no slits for the arms. When I carried the tea tray into the room it meant I revealed my genitals. Mistress went mad, “you filthy pervert, flashing you cock at me. I’ll cane you for that.”

I was given task after task to do that meant bending down, picking things off the table, carrying them across the room. Each time, Master or Mistress would complain at seeing my ‘filthy cock.’ When they’d had their fun, I was caned for my crimes.

Another time I was summonsed to the house and was surprised to discover another slave already there.
I hadn't a clue who the new boi was – except that his name was Sam and he was just 22. To be perfectly honest thought he was a girl at first, looking very cute in a maids uniform, make up and a wig.

I’d been spending my time at the house decorating their bedroom, so I think he was brought in to cover my maid duties. Initially, I had to do the decorating naked but Mistress took pity on me when it got really cold and gave me an old yellow trawlerman’s oilskin cagoule to wear. It absolutely stunk of old sweat and diesel - and was so heavy and cumbersome to wear that it made decorating even more awkward.

Master said I would be punished for being so slow. Sam was also due punishment. So I watched him go first, spreading himself across the dining room table with his bare bottom showing.

Mistress really laid him to him with the cane. I’d never watched someone else get a thrashing before. The poor boy wasn’t used to the treatment and yelled out with each cut. I watched his pert little alabaster cheeks get covered with angry tramlines and his orbs glow and angry red all over with the beating.

When Mistress finished, Master told me to step forward and kiss his bottom better….. The heat was immense as I ran my lips over his still trembling cheeks. Then I had to rub some salve into them.
But the time I’d finished I was rock hard but my excitement so faded as I watched Master unhook the thick rubber belt from his mackintosh and tell me to lay over the table.

I got a really hard dozen, stinging whacks. And then another 12 with the cane. Sam had to give my bottom the same delicious tender treatment I’d given him.

When I got up we both faced our superiors. Sam was given an old cagoule like mine and once he’d got it on, Mistress stepped forward to tie our hoods tight. Then we were strapped together, our faces touching – and told to snog.

Master and Mistress shouted: “Harder.” Stick your tongue down his throat.” Kiss like you mean it.” Harder boi. Or do you want to be caned again.” And the harder we went at it, the more abuse we got, “You raging fucking poofs,” Master shouted. “Look at the pair of you, you queers,” said Mistress.

We carried on kissing each other, dribble down our faces, and squirming about . I could feel Sam’s rock hard cock. I’m sure he could feel mine. Our oilskins were squeaking and schlocking. It was frantic. I felt Sam’s body judder and felt warm juice running down my thigh. Split seconds later I exploded too…..