Bondage story: The Loop

Gromet smiled. He had inspected the latest group of slaves for the market, watching as they were led away, their high heels clicking in counterpoint to the musical clinking of their chains. He had dealt with some internal disciplinary matters – the flogging of a couple of guards for being lenient, the monthly session on the rack of his accountant – and now he was returning to his office and Ms. Trusscot. He had left the lady hogtied on the floor next to his desk, and now he was going to deal with her. Starting with a raised-skirt, over the knee spanking. There was something very pleasant about treating a mature woman like a little girl, something that they seemed to enjoy also. If she was very naughty, perhaps he would take her down to the dungeons and give her some additional torment. 

 

Rubbing his hands together—he couldn’t help it—Gromet approached his office. He opened the door, and stopped. There, where he had left a nice blonde package, there was only a pile of very empty ropes. What could have happened? Where was she? He stepped in, puzzling…

“Oh there you are,” came a voice from his right. Ms. Trusscot stood in his private lavatory. She was touching up her lipstick, mussed, no doubt, by the tape he had gagged her with earlier. “I was wondering where you’d got to.” She closed the lipstick. Gromet advanced on her. Casually she picked up a leather paddle.

“Naaa, naaa, naaa,” she said, waiving the potent weapon slightly from side to side. Gromet stopped. “You’ve been a bad boy – well you’ve actually been a good boy, printing my stories and bending over backwards for me, but you’re going to get treated like a bad boy right now.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he got out through suddenly dry lips.

“Now march yourself over there,” she said, indicating the middle of the office floor.

“If you don’t mind my asking, how did you get loose?” he asked. He thought of his assistant, and the punishments she would experienced if she had freed the woman.

“Oh, never underestimate what a lady is capable of,” she said breezily, “Even if you have her nicely tied up. Now – are you a man or a mouse?”

“ER—I beg your pardon?”

“Mice squeak. A man takes his punishment. In short, do I need to gag you?”

“No, Ma’am.” 

“Oh, good. Now drop your trousers.” He did so. “Mmmn—nice boxers. Silk. No protection at all. Bend over, dear. Now, then…” The leather strop Smacked! Across his hindquarters. He winced, but made no sound. 

“This . . . . . .Is . . . . . What . . . . . . Bad . . . . . . Boys . . . . . . Deserve . . . . .” chanted Ms. Cynthia as she swung the strop with gay abandon against Gromet’s silk-covered rump. “There! Had enough?”

“Yes. I’ve had enough punishment – and you’ve had enough fun!” Whirling around, he seized Cynthia’s paddle hand. There ensued a brief struggle, half fight, half dance, that would have been more serious if Cynthia hadn’t giggled all through it. At last, Gromet wrested the paddle from her grasp. He threw it across the room. “Hold still,” he ordered the woman before him. Cupping her chin in his hand, he smacked! His fist into his palm, his knuckles just grazing her chin. Her head spun around, and she collapsed unconscious to the plush carpeting.

Gromet breathed deeply, pulled up his trousers, then picked up a couple of the ropes. Quickly and efficiently, he hogtied the lady. She regained consciousness as he was jacking her legs up into her back.

“Are you a woman or a pussycat?”

“An interesting question,” she allowed, testing her bondage. “Why do you ask?”

“Do I need to gag you?”

“Yes, please, if it isn’t too much trouble.” He slapped a piece of tape over her mouth, then stepped back. She lay prettily next to his desk, neatly and tightly tied and gagged. Her spike heels jabbed the air as she squirmed sexily.

“That should hold you for awhile,” he told the bound woman. “I have some things to take care of, then I’ll be back to take care of you!” 

Straightening his suit, he headed out the door. He had to deal with some internal disciplinary matters – the flogging of a couple of guards for being lenient, the monthly session on the rack of his accountant…

THE END