She wasn’t normal, she thought, or at least she was different from what most people would consider normal. She’d been raised to believe sex was a mutual expression of love between a man and a woman. She’d tried to think that way, but she’d always liked boys who were strong and wanted to take charge and tell her what to do. It made her feel excited when she thought about that happening.
Until she was eighteen, she hadn’t let any boy go all the way with her or even let a boy feel, much less, see her breasts. Her mother would have disowned her if she knew Ellen had done that. She always told the boy she couldn’t do that sort of thing, but in the back of her mind was a desire to have him talk her into letting him.
The spring she turned eighteen, she knew she was going to college in the fall, so she didn’t look for a full time job. Instead, she applied to a local summer camp and was hired as a counselor. She spent the days helping kids aged twelve through fifteen learn crafts. She spent the nights as a sort of house mother to six young girls in one of the cabins.
Kids arrived at the summer camp on Sunday afternoon, and left on Saturday at noon. That gave the counselors one evening to relax and recharge. Ellen enjoyed that time with people her own age, and she especially enjoyed the time with Jerry, the counselor for the waterfront program. Jerry was twenty and had worked at the camp for two years prior.
Ellen was young and inexperienced and at first had looked to Jerry for guidance in doing her job. Saturday nights became the time she sat with Jerry on a cabin porch and talked about how to guide kids to succeed. As the summer progressed, those talks began ending with Jerry holding her hand, then putting his arm around her, and finally stroking her breasts and inner thighs.
Ellen found she could not resist Jerry’s touch. He would brush the side of her breast and Ellen would feel shocks race through her body. As the touching changed to Jerry arousing her by stroking up her inner thighs, part of her mind told her it was wrong, but another part told her this was what she needed, to be submissive and allow Jerry to do what he wanted with her.
What he wanted to do with her happened the Saturday before the last group of campers for that season arrived. After dinner she and Jerry walked down to the boathouse where the boating equipment was stored. Jerry unlocked the door and then went in behind Ellen. What followed left Ellen feeling as if something she’d dreamed about had really happened to her.
Jerry held her in his arms and kissed her, then began the same caresses she’d felt before. This time, when his hand slipped up her inner thigh, it didn’t stop at the leg of her shorts. She felt Jerry’s fingers exploring her sex through her panties.
She was quickly losing the ability to object to his touch, but that didn’t matter. Her mind was crying out to be touched more. As Jerry pushed her down on the floor of the boathouse, Ellen didn’t resist. When he lifted her T-shirt over her head, she didn’t resist. When he unhooked her bra and slipped it from her shoulders, Ellen shivered at the cool air of the evening, then moaned as Jerry’s hands closed on her breasts.
She didn’t resist when he pushed her back and unfastened her shorts. She couldn’t resist when he pulled them down her legs, and when he began pulling her panties down, Ellen closed her eyes.
Her mind said this was what she wanted, to be taken by a man who took away her will and replaced it with the heat she felt between her thighs, pushed that will into the background of her mind, and then pushed his cock into her sex.
Jerry didn’t waste time with foreplay. He just stuck a finger between Ellen’s hair-covered lips and stroked a while, then knelt between her open legs and pulled down his shorts. Ellen looked down her nude body at Jerry’s rigid cock, then lay back and closed her eyes when she felt him probing for her entrance.
Ellen became a woman in three strokes of Jerry’s cock. The first was stopped by her gasp. The second, by a low cry at the pressure that stretched her maidenhead to the breaking point. Jerry had asked then if she wanted him to stop.
By then, Ellen was lost in the feeling of submitting to Jerry, the feeling of knowing he could do anything to her he wanted and she wouldn’t resist. She breathed, “No”.
Jerry’s third stroke broke through the barrier and sank deep inside Ellen. She shrieked at the pain, but then gasped at the feeling of being stretched inside. Her pelvic muscles involuntarily clamped down on Jerry’s cock as he pulled back out.
“Oh, fuck. You’re tight”, he gasped, and then began stroking his cock in and out of Ellen.
Jerry didn’t last long, at least not long enough for Ellen. The sensation of his cock moving inside her body blended with the pain the stretching strokes continued to cause. She found her mind reeling with that feeling, but even more, laying under Jerry with his hands holding her arms down, unable to move more than he’d let her, and letting him do what he wanted to do only increased the already intense feeling.
Jerry groaned and then rammed his cock in and out four times before sagging into his arms and panting. He pulled out a little later, and Ellen felt wetness running from her entrance and down between her hips. Jerry got up and helped her to her feet, then said they should be getting back before they were missed.
The next day the last round of campers arrived, and Ellen and Jerry had no opportunity to repeat the act. Jerry still sat with her and talked, but he didn’t touch her. To Ellen that seemed strange, but in a way it attracted her to him even more. He had taken her virginity because she had allowed it, and now seemed to be ignoring her. Ellen didn’t feel neglected though. What she felt was the thrill of knowing she was his to do with as he wished, even if he didn’t want to do it again.
Her only fear was that she might be pregnant, but her period arrived two days later. Ellen breathed a sigh of relief then, and hoped she and Jerry could be together again. Such was not to be. After the last camper left that next Saturday, Jerry tossed his bag into his car and drove away without even saying goodbye.
Ellen thought it odd that she didn’t feel like crying, but she didn’t. Instead, she thought of that night and some of the excitement filled her again and took away any other feelings. She had been used, but for some reason she didn’t understand, that in itself was thrilling.
She accepted the fact she wasn’t normal the year she entered college. It was a movie she’d watched on TV with her roommate in their dorm room that did it. Because it was one of those soft porn things, it didn’t really show much of the guy. It showed a lot of the woman’s breasts and hips but not her sex. In Ellen’s imagination, she saw everything, and the combination of what she could see and what she imagined aroused her.
The sounds the woman in the movie made helped her imagination do that, sounds that were at times little moans of pain, but changed to moans and shrieks of pleasure as the woman reached her peak. The movie only showed the woman's face when that happened, but the woman’s closed eyes and open mouth when she panted out the second orgasm had stirred something in her mind, a thought…no, a desire…no, a craving to experience what the woman in the movie had.
When the movie ended, her roommate told her any woman who allowed a man to do that to her wasn’t right in the head. Sex was supposed to be soft and caring and loving, not painful. Ellen agreed with her, but when she went to bed that night she lay there and imagined what was happening in the movie the director had blocked.
The movie had started as do most romance movies. The woman and the man met and found each other interesting. They had a few dates, and after the second, the man kissed the woman. She had melted into his arms and kissed him back. After the third, he asked if she’d go home with him. The woman said yes.
It was the parts after that, when the man and woman were in his apartment that stirred the feelings in Ellen’s mind. The man had fondled the woman while he undressed her, then took off his own clothes. The scene then changed to both of them in his bed, and though the camera angles blocked what the man was doing to the woman, it was easy for Ellen to understand that he was kissing and sucking the woman’s nipples.
She knew how that must feel because once she discovered what her own touch to her nipples could do, she’d done the same thing as the woman in the movie. If she was alone, she’d moan at that touch. If someone else was in the house, she’d suppress the moan but couldn’t stop the catch of her breath it always caused.
A little later, the scene changed again. The man was kneeling between the woman’s legs and it was obvious they were having sex. It looked normal at first, the man just slowly pumping away and the woman stroking his back. Then the man bent his head down and did something. The woman shrieked and jerked her body up into the man. In response, his hips quickly thrust forward and down. Ellen didn’t know what he’d done, but the way his back dropped could only mean he’d rammed his cock into the woman really hard and really fast.
He kept doing that, ramming into the woman so hard her breasts were slammed up toward her face and then back down, and whatever else he was doing seemed to be making her get closer and closer to an orgasm.
The movie showed the man raise his hand, and then there was the sound of a slap as he hit the woman on the hip. The woman shrieked, but then moaned. He did it again,and the woman shrieked again, then gasped and started to shake. Ellen knew it was probably fake, but the woman was doing exactly the same thing she did when she used her finger to make herself climax.
In the scene that followed, the woman was still under the man, though they weren’t moving any more. The woman looked up at the man and smiled.
“How did you know?”
“I didn’t at first. I just suspected.”
“You’re very submissive. Many submissive women like it that way. I didn’t know until that first little bite. After that, I suspected but I still wasn’t sure, not until the slap. Then I knew.”
“Does that make me weird?”
“No, it makes you different and a woman I want to do a lot more with.”
“How much more?”
“As much as you’re comfortable with, no more, no less.”
As she watched the rest of the movie, Ellen became more and more aroused. It wasn’t the sex that filled her with a need, though the actual sex was arousing to her. It was what the man did to the woman before and during.
Ellen felt a strange stirring when the man tied the woman to the bed hand and foot, then sat down beside her. He opened a drawer in the bed table and pulled out two small items that flashed in the light.
“What are those”, asked the woman.
“You’ll see”, he replied.
The woman had gasped when the man put the small clamps on her nipples, but not as hard as Ellen. Ellen had watched, spellbound, as the man adjusted the clamps tighter and tighter until the woman grimaced.
As her roommate slept, Ellen moved a hand under her pajamas and pinched her nipple. The shock that raced through her body made her gasp too. She pinched her right nipple between her thumb and index fingernails and kept pinching until she felt pain. The pain should have made her stop, but instead, she felt a tightening sensation in her core. She pinched the other nipple and felt the same tightening.
When the man had pulled on the clamps, the woman writhed and murmured, “Oh God, I never thought it could be like this.”
Ellen tried that, but her nipple kept slipping from her grasp. She felt on the table next to her bed until she found the hair clips she used to hold her long, blonde hair out of her face during the day, then opened one of the small clips and placed the jaws around her right nipple.
The little plastic clips had teeth to hold them in her hair, and Ellen shuddered when those teeth first bit into her nipple, then nearly cried out as she released the grip that held them partially open. There was pain, but there was something else, something that knotted her core and made her mind crave more. She was panting because of that tightening by the time she’d put another clip on her left nipple.
The man had then reached into the drawer again. Ellen couldn’t see what he did with the second set of clamps because the camera put his body in front of the woman’s, but when the woman cried out and lifted herself up off the bed, Ellen knew.
Ellen pulled down her pajama bottoms and panties, then selected another clip. After parting the hair over her sex, she stretched out her right outer lip and let the jaws of the clip close around the soft, tender flesh.
The effect was immediate. Ellen gasped at the pain, but felt a flow of warmth. She slipped a finger beside the clip and between her lips and discovered her body was reacting. In the past, that had always happened after she’d closed her eyes and fingered the little nub at the top of her slit for a while. Now, it was like then, but had taken only moments.
She felt another flow when she fastened another clip to the left lip, and when she tugged gently on them, her hips lurched and her mind reeled from the sensation.
The man wasn’t yet done with the woman. Ellen had watched as he retrieved something that looked like a flyswatter but made of leather from the drawer. The man stroked the wide, flat end over the woman’s nipples and she shuddered. He then slapped that flat end against her breast. The woman cried out, but it wasn’t a cry of pain exactly. The cry was mixed with a cry of need.
Remembering that scene made Ellen so aroused she couldn’t stop her fingertip from slipping into her wetness and then rubbing her clit. She closed her eyes and the rest of the scene played out in her head. The man slapped the woman’s other breast with the swatter thing and she gasped, “again”. He kept doing it while he stroked up the woman’s leg with his hand. Again, his body blocked what he did then, but Ellen could figure it out. The woman closed her eyes and her mouth formed an “O” shape, and the man’s shoulder began to move in a steady rhythm. He had to be stroking his finger in and out of the woman.
From time to time, he’d pull the clamps on the woman’s nipples and the woman would first grimace, then gasp and try to pull away. The man wouldn’t let go, and the woman’s nipple and entire breast would be pulled up and out. She’d sometimes cry out when this happened, but like before, it wasn’t really a cry of pain and her body always lurched up. After a couple minutes, the woman groaned, then murmured, “God, I need to be fucked. Fuck me, please fuck me."
Before she realized what was happening, Ellen was in the throes of an orgasm. The sensation of the hair clips on her nipples as her breasts shook, and the way her stroking fingers pulled at the clips on her lips made her gasp as wave after wave swept her away. She shuddered, then pulled her pillow over her face to mute the cry as the orgasm caused her to squeeze her thighs together. That pulled the clips on her lips tighter and she gasped, dug her heels into her mattress, and raised her hips high off the bed.
She stayed like that because the intense contractions of her body wouldn’t let her do anything else. Her hips rocked up and down uncontrollably and her entire body shook as the second shock raced through her.
Ellen was surprised that she was responding so strongly. She had often used her finger to make herself have an orgasm before going to sleep. It helped relieve the stress of studying so hard, but once had always been enough. Now, she craved the shattering release again. She whispered to herself, “I need to be fucked. Fuck me, please fuck me”, and kept stroking her fingers in and out.
Ellen was breathless when the second orgasm blinded her to everything around her. She rolled to her side and buried her face in the pillow to again mute her cry. That was all she could do except keep stroking her fingertip over her clit as her body shook. Even after that stopped, it took only a touch to the hair clip on a nipple or lip to tighten her body again and cause that same feeling to race through her.
For a while Ellen lay on her back and thought about what she’d just experienced. Her nipples were still long and stiff, and when she felt them, her outer lips were swollen and puffy. Her inner lips seemed to be that way too, and she couldn’t remember them ever being that way before. She unclipped the clip on her right lip and then gasped at the sensation. It was the same way when she took the clips off her other lip and nipples. She felt an intense, racing shock that tightened her belly again.
As she fell asleep, she wondered if she’d been tied up so she couldn’t resist like the woman in the movie, would it have been different, maybe even better. The woman had to just lay there and let the man do with her as he wanted. Ellen felt a chill run down her spine then. She’d been able to stop pulling on the hair clips when the sensation got too intense to bear. What if she hadn’t been able to do that? She hadn’t felt the slap of the man’s swatter because she didn’t have anything like that and couldn’t have done it with her roommate there anyway. What would that have felt like? She found herself wanting and needing to know.
The next day as she walked to her English class, Ellen thought more about what she’d discovered about herself. What she wanted was to experience a situation like the woman in the movie, tied so she was helpless to resist and then have a man do with her all the things the man in the movie had done. She sighed as she realized that probably wasn’t going to happen.
She was nineteen, and all the men she knew were about the same age. She’d heard them talking on occasion, but all they ever talked about was normal sex with a woman. They wouldn’t know what to do, and other than what she’d seen in the movie, she couldn’t tell them anything. Besides, if she asked one to do even part of what had happened in the movie, he’d think she was weird and tell everyone he knew.
At the start of the class, Ellen dropped off the essay she’d written and then took her usual seat. Professor Allen gathered hers and all the other essays, put them in his briefcase, and then gave them their next assignment.
“We’re going to begin studying the various plot types used by authors of fiction. Your assignment is to select a book from the list I’ll provide, read the book, and then identify the type of plot and how the author utilizes the elements of that plot to tell the story. Your paper is due in six weeks. That’s a week before the final and it will count for a quarter of your final grade. Are there any questions?”
One of the guys in the class who seemed to think everything he said was hilarious asked if any of the books were about sex. Professor Allen smiled.
“You won’t find any porn novels in the list if that’s what you’re asking. I’m afraid most works of that type are written for readers who care less about how something is written and more about how detailed the descriptions are. All my selections are recognized as examples of excellent writing that span multiple centuries of literature.”
The guy said a whispered, “crap”, which caused a few chuckles.
The rest of the class was an introduction to the kinds of plots found in most novels. At the end of the class, Ellen picked up the list from Professor Allen’s desk and then went to the bookstore.
She browsed the fiction section looking at the summaries of the books on Professor Allen’s list, and finally found one that seemed like it would be at least a somewhat interesting read. She picked it up and was starting to the check-out counter when she saw a book in the same section that piqued her interest. The book was thin, the title was “Bound Love”, and the only thing on the cover was a coiled rope. She opened the cover and read the summary.
This is the story of Evangeline, a young woman from the countryside who is unsatisfied by what are considered normal relationships. She desires to be dominated and taken, but such is forbidden by the society in which she lives. After moving to the city, she meets George, a man somewhat older than she, who employs her and then introduces her to the practice of bondage and discipline as a means to sexual arousal and fulfillment. Evangeline is stunned at first, but later learns this to be the only way for her to feel loved and desired.
Ellen quickly scanned the first few pages, and after the third, carried that book to the checkout counter as well. The next morning after breakfast, she sat at her desk and began to read it.
The first chapter introduced the woman Evangeline, and as Ellen read, she began to see parallels between Evangeline and herself. They were about the same age, and though Evangeline lived in a different time, they were much alike in other ways as well.
Evangeline discovers herself
Evangeline had been deflowered in her eighteenth year by a boy she had known since childhood. The experience was not at all what she expected. Her mother had explained the first time would be painful, but it would not be so for more than a few moments because the man would quickly spend.
Maurice was young and inexperienced, and so did not know of the barrier to Evangeline’s inner passage. He had pierced it roughly immediately upon attempting to enter her. Evangeline felt the pain, but she felt a feeling of being helpless to resist Maurice and his ramming thrusts, and she found herself to be aroused as never before by this feeling.
When Maurice groaned, rammed his organ inside her and then jerked his hips, Evangeline felt a tension growing in her belly, a tension that erupted with gasping breath, a quaking in her legs and hips, and an explosion of sensations in her head.
Her mother had also told her that once her maidenhead was broken, there would be no more pain. Evangeline had found that to be true. Her subsequent couplings with Maurice had been without pain, but much to Evangeline’s dismay, also without the excitement and the culmination of that excitement she’d experienced the first time.
Evangeline reasoned that since everything else was the same, that Maurice always took her lying on her back, and always pushed his thick cock inside her cunt with one quick stroke, what had excited her to her release was the pain. She craved that release again. It was the most shattering, but most exhilarating thing she’d ever felt. It was as if her mind had floated away as her body contorted from the exquisite contractions wracking her core.
Evangeline did not know how to tell Maurice of her desire. The poor country boy was so simple he only knew how to stick her with his cock and pump away quickly until he spent.
Ellen flipped the page then realized it was time to leave for her English class. Since she’d have an hour between English and her next class, not enough time to walk back to the dorm and then back to class, she put the book in her backpack with the others. It was a sunny spring day, and she’d sit on the lawn and read while waiting for Economics 101.
In the English class, Professor Allen asked how many had chosen a book. About half the class raised their hands. Professor Allen smiled.
“It’s only fair to warn you that the shortest book on my list is six hundred and eighty pages. If you don’t get one soon, you’re going to spend a lot of late nights reading. Let’s see what the others have chosen.”
He walked up and down the rows of desks looking at the books those who had already bought had taken from their backpacks. He nodded at most and chuckled at one guy’s selection.
“Ah, a romance. Usually this book is selected by women. It’ll be interesting to read what you have to say about it.”
There were a few chuckles from the other guys, but Professor Allen quickly silenced them.
“Those of you who are laughing should remember something. Up until the late eighteen hundreds, all most all authors were male, and it is to one them we owe this classic. It is not a requirement that an author be female to write about romance, nor is it a requirement that the reader of said romance be female. If you find yourself lacking in the ability to attract a woman for a little ‘rumpy-dumpy’, as they said in the seventeenth century, perhaps you would do well to read a romance or two.”
When he came to Ellen’s desk he also nodded, but then stopped. Her backpack was open and he’d seen her other book. He looked at her, but didn’t say anything and then walked on.
When the class was over and the students were filing out of the room, he called her name.
“Miss Blake, might I see you for a minute?”
He motioned her to his desk, but didn’t say anything until the last student left the room. Then he turned to her and smiled.
“I couldn’t help but notice the other book in your backpack and I recognized the title and the author’s name. The subject matter is somewhat unusual, but it’s a fine example of eighteenth century writing. Were the subject not so controversial, I would have added it to my reading list. Is the topic something in which you have an interest? If that be the case, you may write your essay based upon this book rather than one from my list.”
Ellen really didn’t know how to answer. Professor Allen was only a few years older than she but didn’t share the manners and dress of her generation. He seemed to be a pretty conservative man. He always wore a suit, his hair was always neatly trimmed and combed, and she’d never heard him use any language except very proper English. If she told him yes, he’d think she was some sort of freak. If she said, no, he’d just ask why she was reading it. Ellen decided to give him an explanation that would maybe avoid him thinking either way.
“No, not really. It’s a present for my roommate’s birthday. I just found this at the bookstore when I went to buy the book for the essay and I thought she might like it because she’s always talking about kinky stuff.”
Professor Allen smiled.
“Well, if she really is into that sort of thing, tell her there is a group on campus who have similar interests. I understand they meet once a week on Friday to discuss the subject. They’re not officially sanctioned by the university, but the university allows them to use one of the classrooms in the Math building…room 106 at seven in the evening if I remember correctly. She might find it interesting to attend one of their meetings.”
Ellen was glad he seemed to believe her. She said she’d tell her roommate.
After dinner that night, Ellen finished a homework assignment due the next day, then showered and got into bed and continued reading the book.
In the second chapter, Evangeline left Maurice and her country home to seek employment in a nearby city. She found that employment as a maid in the home of a wealthy business owner named George Witherbottom.
Ellen had chuckled at the name, “Witherbottom”. It was obviously a made-up name, and she wondered how the author had thought of it. As she read on, she wondered at some other things as well.
Evangeline attacked her assigned tasks with the energy and vigor of youth. Mr. Witherbottom often complimented her on her work, saying he had never seen such a meticulous housekeeper and that he would have to consider increasing her wages if her excellent performance continued.
Evangeline worked from dawn to dusk in the hope such would be the case. She cleaned every room, every day, until not a speck of dust or window smudge remained.
The singular exception was a room at the end of the hall that also led to Evangeline’s bedchamber. Mr. Witherbottom had explained the room was his private study and should she attempt to dust the desk or to sweep the floor, it would disturb the complex arrangement of his papers and other items of study.
Evangeline honored his request, but was extremely curious about what might be behind that door. It was a month after she took up residence in the servant’s quarters that an incident caused her curiosity to become more intense.
She had completed the day’s work and was relaxing in her room when she heard a woman’s voice. Mr. Witherbottom was not married and Evangeline thought it unusual for him to be entertaining a female caller at this late hour. She opened the door to her room just a crack and peered down the hall.
The woman wore the dress of a well-to-do woman of society, though the neckline was cut so low as to be nearly scandalous. Mr. Witherbottom was stroking the soft mounds of the woman’s breasts that rose from the low neckline, and smiled as he inserted his finger into the cleft between them. The woman giggled and whispered some words Evangeline could not hear. Mr. Witherbottom nodded, and then they walked down the hall and in the direction of his study.
Evangeline then understood Mr. Witherbottom’s study was where he took women to couple. She thought little about this as she understood a man’s need to couple with a woman. Maurice had wanted her every day and sometimes twice. It was only half an hour later that she began to suspect Mr. Witherbottom and the woman were not coupling in the usual manner.
The heavy door and thick walls of the house muffled the sound, but as Evangeline lay in bed, she was certain she heard the woman shriek. Thinking that were the woman in distress, she might be needed, Evangeline rose and dressed, then walked down the hall to Mr. Witherbottom’s study.
She was about to knock on the door and ask if Mr. Witherbottom required anything when she heard Mr. Witherbottom’s voice.
“Take it, you little whore. Take my crop in your cunt like the slut you are.”
She then heard the woman squeal.
“Oh, Sir, not your crop. Put your cock in my cunt and fuck me.”
Again, Mr. Witherbottom’s voice.
“In due time, my little whore, in due time. First, you will taste my lash and then my crop handle fucking your big, loose cunt.”
Evangeline heard the sound of leather hitting flesh and then the woman shrieked, “Oh, Sir, you fire my cunt to dripping with your lash. Pray do as you will, but promise to put out that fire with your essence.”
Evangeline crept silently back to her room, undressed, and climbed back into bed. For the next hour, she heard the muffled sounds of the woman and Mr. Witherbottom, though other than the long shriek the woman made at the last, she could not understand what they were saying. She did understand the shriek. It was the same sound she remembered making when Maurice had taken her so roughly and so quickly that first time.
Was it possible that another woman also found pain to be arousing? It certainly appeared as such. While the woman had sounded as if she was being hurt, she had also sounded as if she was enjoying the experience. Evangeline let her hand move down her flat belly to her sex. She closed her eyes and imagined her middle finger was the handle of Mr. Witherbottom’s riding crop.
Would he insert it quickly, just as had Maurice inserted his cock, or would he have done so slowly. Evangeline attempted to simulate both. Slowly inserting her finger was pleasant. Thrusting that finger inside her soft lips was difficult because her juices had not yet begun to flow enough to ease the way. The difficulty resulted in some discomfort, but that discomfort caused nearly the same feeling as when Maurice had taken her that first time.
Evangeline continued this self abuse until the final conclusion, and as she lay upon her bed, her body throbbing and her breath coming in gasps, she resolved to somehow approach Mr. Witherbottom about what he did to women in his private study.
Ellen closed the book, laid it on the table beside her bed, and then shut off her light. Reading about Evangeline had caused her to need the same release. Her hairclips were on the table and she thought about reaching for them, but her roommate was still at her desk studying. Instead, she thought about what Professor Allen had said about a campus group interested in the same things that were in the book.
Could she muster the courage to go to one of the meetings? If she did, what would happen? She doubted there would be anything except discussion, but maybe she could learn more about how and why she felt as she did, and maybe, just maybe, she could find a man who understood too.
By Friday morning, Ellen had read four chapters of “Bound Love” that were mostly about how Evangeline had listened at the door to Mr. Witherbottom’s study. In all the scenarios described, Evangeline had translated what she heard into visions of what she believe was taking place. Ellen found those visions to arouse her, to make her mind long to experience what Evangeline imagined.
Her roommate had gone home to visit her mother and father and would not return until Sunday afternoon. Ellen had no classes on Friday afternoon, and spent the time continuing to read. In the next chapters, she learned some of what Mr. Witherbottom did to women in his study.
Evangeline’s curiosity about Mr. Witherbottom’s study gnawed at her mind day in and day out. She dared not enter the room lest he discover her intrusion, yet such was the single most desirable thought that entered her head every day and every night.
After that first time, Evangeline had witnessed the same type of event on numerous occasions. Usually, the women were dressed as had been the first with a vast expanse of bosom exposed. Their faces were painted in the same manner her mother had said women of wealth did to attract men of similar means.
Upon two occasions, each a month apart and in the afternoon rather an the evening, she heard voices in the hall and peeked through the door of the room she was cleaning. On those two occasions, the woman on Mr. Witherbottom’s arm was the same woman, a married woman to judge by the sparkle of the ring on her left hand, and she was dressed in the manner of a lady of high society. Her full bosom was covered by a lace bib, and her face, while enhanced with the application of powder and rouge, looked proper for a married woman of status.
Once Mr. Witherbottom had escorted the woman into his study and closed the door, the sounds Evangeline heard as she stood quietly outside the door were nearly the same.
“Oh, Amos, you know the effect of your ties upon me all too well.”
“Yes I do, and I intend to truss you like the whore you are and then flog you until your cunt is dripping.”
“Tis already as such, Amos, but pray continue. I would feel the bite of your whip on my bosoms and hips before you impale me with your cock.”
After a lot of talk along the same vein, Evangeline would hear a few sharp slaps and then the mewing cries of the woman.
“Oh, Amos, I am on fire. Take me now. Thrust your cock into my cunt and spend that I might do the same.”
“Not yet, my pretty little whore. First you will feel the bite of the clamps that pinch your teats and I’ll stretch your furry cunt wide open, wide enough to fit my entire hand. You’ll endure both before I fill you with my essence. In the meantime, feel the slap of my hands upon your arse. It will be red and aflame ere I finish and begin fucking your wide open cunt.”
Evangeline was stroking her own breasts by this time, and as the sound of a hand slapping bare flesh came through the door, she raised her skirts and attempted to stretch her own cunt with first two, then three, then four fingers. Though Maurice’s thick cock had opened her to some extent, Evangeline was able to manage only three before the waves of ecstasy began to wrack her body. She bit her arm to quiet the cry.
Discovery and Punishment
The day came when Mr. Witherbottom announced he would be away for three days pursuing a business venture. His instructions to Evangeline were to clean as usual, and to have clean bedding on his bed for his return. She would be at liberty to pursue her own entertainment once these tasks were completed.
Evangeline waited until Mr. Witherbottom had entered his carriage. Then, she went to his study and tried the door. She was expecting it to be secured by the stout lock as always before, but to her shock, the door opened. Slowly, she opened it further and peered inside.
In the center of the room stood a table, but such an unusual table it was. It was both long and wide, as was the table seating ten in Mr. Witherbottom’s dining room, but instead of being topped with solid planks to form a dining surface, the top was deeply notched by the open “V” at one end. Evangeline approached the table, and saw ringbolts securely fastened at each corner.
Hanging from the ringbolts were straps of leather, each of which was equipped with a buckle and adjusting holes. The other end was fastened to its ringbolt and Evangeline knew of the method from her days in the country. The fastening was done in the manner a horseman would secure the cinch strap to a riding saddle. Such a fastening could be quickly tightened or loosened, but would prevent any amount of struggling from releasing the simple knot.
Evangeline immediately understood the purpose of the straps, and the vision she had conjured when hearing Mr. Witherbottom’s guests filled her mind. It was with these straps Mr. Witherbottom bound his women visitors to the table. The deep notch at one end would enable Mr. Witherbottom to spread the woman’s legs wide and expose her sex.
On another, smaller table beside the first, she spied various implements of which she knew nothing, but the purpose of which she was able to surmise based upon her hearing Mr. Witherbottom’s words and the words of the women Mr. Witherbottom tied to his table.
There were several wicked looking devices made of iron that had the shape of the tongs used by a blacksmith, though much, much smaller and highly polished. Each could be adjusted to close tightly by means of a screw through the short handles. Surely, it was these items Mr. Witherbottom called his clamps. Evangeline shuddered as she imagined them attached to her small nipples.
Also on the table were a riding crop, without any doubt the same riding crop she’d heard Mr. Witherbottom speak of with several women. Also there was a small whip and several round and long objects that could only be copies of a male organ. They were in various sizes, from that she remembered Maurice to sport when aroused, to engines she was certain would rend her entrance asunder. Evangeline shuddered again at the thought of being penetrated by such a device, but then felt the tingle of desire race through her body.
Evangeline did not hear the soft footsteps Mr. Witherbottom made as he entered the room. It was only when he cleared his throat she turned and saw him standing in the door.
Ellen rolled from her side to her front, then turned the page and continued reading.
Mr. Witherbottom’s voice was angry when he spoke.
“I returned to satisfy my suspicions, and those suspicions have proven to be valid. Evengeline, your instructions were to never enter this room, yet you have done so. What is your explanation?”
Evangeline attempted to lie.
“Sir, it was only that I might surprise you upon your return. Men do not know how to properly clean and I thought you would appreciate my efforts.”
Mr. Witherbottom’s voice grew louder.
“A likely story and one I would expect from a young girl with a nose for snooping about in areas that do not concern her. I should discharge you immediately for I do not believe for even a moment you intended to clean this room. I know you have been listening at the door when I entertain certain women of my acquaintance because I have heard the floor creak as you stood there. You wished to discover the goings-on when I do so. Well, is this not so?”
Evangeline looked at the floor.
“Yes, Sir, I have listened at the door, first because I thought the woman to be in distress and then because I was curious. The women sound as if they experience great pleasure. I wished to know how this could be and by what means you caused these feelings. I meant no harm by listening or by entering the room. Please, Sir, please do not send me into the streets.”
Mr. Witherbottom stroked his chin for a moment, then spoke, though his voice seemed to Evangeline to be less enraged than before.
“I am not a man without feelings for those in my employ. I shall not discharge you to starve on the streets, but you must be taught a lesson lest you disobey me again. Would you agree this to be a fair arrangement?”
“Then disrobe and lay on my table. You wish to know the methods by which I am able to elicit such sounds and comments from the women I entertain, and now you shall learn.”
Evangeline did has he asked, though it was embarrassing to remove her clothing in front of him. She might have resisted had it not been for the feelings his commanding voice and face instilled in her. She felt nearly the same way as with Maurice that first time, submissive and with no ability to control her fate, only with Mr. Witherbottom, that feeling was extremely intense.
As Mr. Witherbottom had instructed, she then lifted herself to the table and then reclined with her legs upon the boards that formed the notch in the table.
Mr. Witherbottom smiled and fastened a leather strap to Evangeline’s left wrist, then pulled it taut and secured it to the ringbolt. She felt her body begin to tingle as he tightened the second strap around her right wrist. She was already in his power, in his power to do with her as he would.
Evangeline attempted to move her legs together, but Mr. Witherbottom delivered a smart slap to her thigh.
“Open your legs, little whore. I would see the young, tight cunt I shall ravage before we finish.”
With that, he pulled her left leg to the ringbolt, fastened the leather strap around it, and then cinched the strap tight. Her right leg followed, and Evangeline lay there trussed to the table, her body trembling in anticipation of what Mr. Witherbottom would do next. She was not long in discovering his intentions.
Mr. Witherspoon smiled.
“No doubt you have heard the cries of my women. Do you understand why they cry out?”
Evangeline said, “I believe they must find your actions to cause them great pleasure, though I do not understand how this might be so. It would seem a woman would not enjoy being trussed to a table, though this must be the case.”
“You are quite correct, but not for the reasons a simple country girl would understand without proper instruction. Certain women of my acquaintance have grown to enjoy the onset of the pain that leads to the most exquisite of releases. They come to me to achieve that release, a release they may achieve in no other manner, not with another man even though he is her husband. Today, you shall experience the same.”
With that, Mr. Witherspoon stroked Evangeline’s right breast, waited for her nipple to grow in response, and then slapped the soft mound hard with his hand. Evangeline yelped, then gasped as the stinging pain became a tingling sensation that tightened her belly. A tiny moan slipped from her throat, and Mr. Witherspoon smiled.
“I believe I have found me an apt pupil for my lesson.”
He stroked Evangeline’s other breast, then likewise slapped the softly rolling mound, and Evangeline felt the same stinging sensation followed by another tightening in her belly.
Ellen’s mind reeled at the visions that filled her mind as she read. She imagined herself spread-eagled and tied on the table described in the book, tied hand and foot with her sex held open for a man to look at and to do with as he wished. She tried to imagine how it would feel to have her breasts stroked gently and then slapped.
She had been able to reproduce the feeling of clamps on her nipples and the tender lips between her thighs with her hair clips. If only she could duplicate the slap to her breasts…
Ellen lay down the book, locked the door to her room, and then took off all her clothes. She lay down on her bed again, this time on her back. She had no way to bind herself to the corners of the bed, but she spread her legs as wide as the sides of the bed frame. She imagined a man standing beside her bed, looking down at her bare breasts and at the blonde, crinkled hair that covered her sex.
With her left hand, she stroked her right breast, first on the underside and then up and over the curve. Ellen caught her breath when her fingertip touched her nipple, and breathed in deeply when that nipple stiffened and grew longer. This was what Evangeline must have felt, the tingling sensation that Ellen always felt when her nipples were stroked.
Ellen then moved her hand down, pulled it back, and slapped her breast. The soft globe rolled up her chest and then back down, but Ellen felt no pain. She slapped that breast again, harder this time, and felt a tiny, stinging sensation, but not as strong as had been described in the book. Ellen rose, went to her dresser, and retrieved her hairbrush. She lay back down and then poised the flat back of the hairbrush under her breast. With one quick stroke, she slapped the underside of her breast.
She gasped at the effect. There was pain, but that quickly left. What remained was a warmth in her breast and little tingling sensations that further tightened her nipple and wrinkled the darker skin of her nipple bed.
Ellen changed hands and did the same to her left breast. The results were the same, and the little tingling sensations seemed to move from her breast to her core. She slapped that breast with the hairbrush again, harder this time, and gasped as the sensations caused her belly to roll a little. After several more stinging slaps, some harder than others, Ellen felt the warmth in her breast spread to her sex.
She slipped a fingertip to the lips beneath their covering of blonde hair and found them to be swollen and open a little. Surely, Evangeline had responded in like manner. Though aroused to the point of wanting to continue stroking her swollen lips, Ellen once again turned the page and read on.
Mr. Witherbottom smiled when Evangeline gasped.
“You see, the pain becomes pleasure, and this is but one of the experiences you will soon grow to relish, to crave more than life itself.”
He walked to another table and picked up a wide, but short, leather strap attached to a wooden handle, then took up a position between Evengeline’s wide-spread legs.
“This is the bat and is a particular favorite of some of my guests. I enjoy using it as well, both for the effect and because it saves my hand.”
So saying, Mr. Witherbottom lightly tapped Evangeline’s most intimate lips with the leather end of the bat. She caught her breath at the unexpected sensation, then cried out as Mr. Witherbottom applied the broad leather end with more force. Her lips were spared most of the force, but the small, hidden button at the top of their beginning was not. The shooting shock of the impact raced to her brain and caused her mind to reel.
Mr. Witherbottom then applied the leather end with short, quick slaps that began as light touches and culminated in a sharp slap that again forced a cry from Evangeline. At first, Evangeline writhed against the binding straps that held her in position in an attempt to shield her sex from the stings, but to no avail. Then, she was surprised by another feeling, a feeling of warmth in her sex that caused her juices to flow. It also caused a need in her mind, a need to feel as she had felt that first time with Maurice, a need to be penetrated by Mr. Witherbottom’s cock and accept his seed as the waves of her climax swept her into oblivion.
She gasped, “Oh, Sir, I did not know, but now…take me now…do as you wish, but do so with your cock in my cunt. Give me your seed that I might reach my end as well.”
Mr. Witherbottom smiled.
“We have yet just begun, but I understand how such treatment would overcome one so young and so unused to such pleasures. I will do as you request, this time. Your future training will become more in depth and as you will see, more arousing.”
Evangeline’s eyes grew larger when Mr. Witherbottom let his trousers fall to the floor. He was larger than Maurice, both in length and breadth, and the swollen, almost purple head looked huge. Evengeline closed her eyes then and waited for the piercing she was certain would open her to the extent it would be as if she had never been deflowered.
She caught her breath as Mr. Witherbottom pressed his massive engine against her portal, than gasped as he withdrew and, using his fingers, stretched her lips apart until she felt as if they would be torn from her body. She felt the rigid member probing her sex, moving up and down between her stretched lips and then brushing over the turgid nub at the top of her slit. She gasped at that touch, and her body contorted in pleasure.
Mr. Witherbottom was not long in opening her after that. He poised his now wet organ at the portal, took a hold on Evangeline’s hips, and then thrust his cock inside her in one ramming stroke.
Evangeline felt her body open, then become filled with his size and length. Her mind became only the feeling of the stretching of her passage and the intense tingling sensations of Mr. Witherbottom’s fingertips on her nipples, pinching them flat and then using his grip to pull her breasts into cones.
His rapid in and out strokes further fired her ardor until Evangeline felt as if her body were about to burst. She moaned and writhed as his thick, swollen cock plunged in and out of her wet depths. She unconsciously rocked her hips into each deep, rapid thrust. She felt the impending conclusion begin tightening her core, causing her to moan loudly and to pull against the bindings on her wrists and ankles.
Evangeline erupted in a flurry of moans, cries, and a shaking throughout her entire body when Mr. Witherbottom gasped, said “take my seed, whore” and then rammed his cock inside her so far she felt her lips pressed tightly against her inner thighs. She cried out as a contraction tightened her passage around Mr. Witherbottom’s throbbing cock, then cried out again as a second contraction made her attempt to arch her body from the table.
The attempt was fruitless. The leather bindings held Evangeline helplessly in position as Mr. Witherbottom withdrew and then groaned as he rammed his spurting cock deep inside her again. Evangeline’s body had just begun to relax, but the rapid thrust cause her to again contort to the extent made possible by her bindings. Her mind was blinded by the sensations from her brutally stretched passage, flattened lips, and the pressure upon the center of her sex.
She continued to shake even as Mr. Witherbottom pulled his cock slowly from the clasping embrace of Evangeline’s passage. It was as if her body had taken up a life of its own, a life of intense pleasure that it refused to end. It was several moments before she felt again in control of her own actions. She opened her eyes then and saw Mr. Witherbottom still standing there between her spread thighs.
He used his fingers to strip up the length of his softening organ and then deposited the resulting white dribble on the hair on Evangeline’s mound. He looked up then and smiled.
“Was my lesson to your liking? It appeared to be so.”
Evangeline could hardly speak, so intense had been the convulsions that had wracked her body, but she took a deep breath and sighed out her answer.
“Mr. Witherbottom, Sir, I did not believe such was possible. I am beside myself with the feeling of pleasure still. Is it always such.”
“No, my little whore. It becomes more intense. Now, off to bed with you. You have work to do tomorrow. Tomorrow night, we shall have another lesson.”
Evangeline fell back upon the table as he released her from her bonds and then sent her to her room. As she washed the remains of his seed and her juices from between her cunt lips and off her thighs, she marveled at this new understanding. It had been an experience that far surpassed that first time with Maurice. Were a second to be more, as Mr. Witherbottom had promised, could she even bear it?
Evangeline fell into bed without putting on her night clothes, and as she fell into slumber, her head was filled with both memories of the evening and questions about the future.
Ellen put down the book then, and began stroking her breasts and nipples. Could it be that such a thing was possible, that a woman could be aroused to such an extent by being bound hand and foot and then receiving stinging slaps to her breasts and sex? Could that arousal lead to such a shattering orgasm?
She thought of what she had read as her fingers began probing her entrance. First one, then two, then three of her fingers slipped into the wet, slippery opening and began stroking. Ellen moaned quietly as the sensations began taking her away, than gasped as she inserted another finger.
She felt stretched as never before, stretched almost to the point of pain, and yet the feeling was also one of intense stimulation. After only a few minutes, she gasped and arched into those stroking fingers, then hung there as the waves of the orgasm took away her breath.
When the contractions subsided, Ellen eased back down on her bed. It had been the most intense orgasm she’d ever experienced. Would being bound and treated as Evangeline had been in the book be more? She knew there was only one way to find out.
That evening after dinner, she walked to the Math building and found Room 106. Ellen didn’t know what the evening would bring, but she had to find out. She took a deep breath, and reached for the doorknob.