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  After a couple of minutes Isabella was moaning and squealing with every strike. Her body was swaying with the blows and her nipples were being pulled painfully away from the wall. This treatment was getting her juices flowing and after several minutes of hard whacks with the paddle she couldn’t hold the dildo any longer and it dropped onto the floor.

  She gave out a little groan as her muscles relaxed and put her forehead on the wall. Sweat ran down her face and she could feel little rivulets running down between her breasts. Then she jumped as the punishment started again. Harder and faster blows were raining down on her buttocks.

  “Was that it, Slut? Do you call that muscle control? Useless!” Helen began to strike at the sides of her bum, bringing the same colour to them as well.

  Isabella began to sob loudly. The amount of heat in her backside was building as was the pain and throbbing. “Please Mistress, forgive me, I’m sorry!” she begged. She was lost in the pain, her backside felt as if it was on fire. It was just one throbbing mass of flesh.

  Helen lifted the paddle up to beyond her shoulders and launched one last blow, dead centre, with as much force as she could.

  “Ahhhhh!” Isabella wailed as her knees gave way and she tried to slip down the wall, but was brought up short by the chain attached to her pulsating breasts. Her engorged nipples were pulled harshly into cones as she struggled to get back to her feet.

  Helen watched as her victim’s arms strained in their cuffs, vainly trying to get to the source of her pain. Large heaving sobs came from Isabella as she inched her way back up the wall and stood with her cheek pressed against it, making small moaning sounds.

  The older woman reached around and released the chain and Isabella dropped to the carpet, leaving a trail of tears down the wallpaper as she did so.

  Helen took a grip on her long hair and pulled her head back hard. “What do you say Slave?”

  “Thank you Mistress, thank you Mistress, thank you Mistress,” Isabella babbled. She looked through her tears to see Helen looking down grimly at her. The Headmistress knelt down and licked the tears from her cheeks. “That’s better Miss Parker-Davis.”

  Helen released her hair and she dropped to the carpet trying to get her breath back between the sobs. Helen retreated to a chair and sat down, studying the shivering, distraught girl on the floor.

  She had been hoping to make her orgasm just with the pain, but it appeared that Isabella wasn’t built that way, not all the girls were. Well, there was nothing to stop her getting a good orgasm out of the session. She undid her robe and spread her legs wide.

  “Slave!” she barked. “Get over here and please your Mistress.”

  Isabella looked up to her Headmistress sitting and waiting for her. She shuffled round on her knees and positioned herself in between Helen’s legs.

  This was the part that confused Isabella. How could she just let herself be used for sex? How could it excite her so much? She was desperate to come herself, but now she had to provide orgasms for her current mistress and hope that she would be allowed to come before the night was over.

  She leant forwards slightly and began kiss Helen’s pussy lips lightly and then lick at them with her tongue. She felt the Headmistress’s hand start to stroke her hair softly and begin to thrust her crotch in her face. Isabella inserted her tongue and searched for Helen’s clitoris, when she found it she pulled on it with her teeth and heard Helen give out a little gasp.

  Both hands gripped the slave’s hair as little shivers ran through the older woman’s body. The end of Isabella’s tongue caught her clitoris and Helen pulled on the girl’s long hair, Isabella gave out a small sound of discomfort and tried to pull back. Helen picked up the wide short leather strap from the arm of the chair and laid it across her naked back.

  “Get that tongue deeper, Slut. Your Mistress says that eating pussy is something that you are actually good at, well I suppose everybody has a talent of some sort.” She swung the strap in again and pushed Isabella’s head deeper in to her pussy.

  After a few moments Isabella began to struggle as she could not get her breath, but diligently continued to suck and flick at the engorged clitoris.

  “Oh God, yes!” Helen gasped as an orgasm rocked her body. She released Isabella’s hair and the girl rocked back on her heels breathing hard, her face flushed red. Helen looked at her through half closed eyes. “Not bad...for a posh bird. Now get back in there and keep going until I say you can stop.” Helen pushed the girl’s head back between her thighs and brought the strap down again, to remind her who was in charge.

  For the next twenty minutes Isabella worked on her mistress’s clitoris bringing her to several more orgasms. By the end of the session her back ached, her jaw ached and her body was covered in sweat, her upper arms were cramping up and she hadn’t come once.

  Finally, Helen pushed Isabella away, stood up and stretched. “Not bad slut, not bad at all. Keep that up and I might be able to find some uses for you after all.”

  She got two bottles of water out of the fridge and drank half of hers down in one go. “Open up Miss,” she ordered.

  Isabella opened her mouth and Helen poured it straight in. A lot went down the side of her face and onto the floor. Helen gave a little sigh. “You dirty slut, lick it up.”

  Isabella put her head to the carpet and began to lick up the spilt water. Quite suddenly there appeared under her nose the Headmistress’s feet. “While you’re there you can clean these as well.”

  Isabella looked up at the stern faced older woman. Her Mistress Jemma never humiliated her like this, she was beginning to realise the difference between a true dominatrix and Jemma, who quite liked being dominated herself.

  Helen demanded nothing less than total obedience. Whatever her slave was told to do, however demeaning or embarrassing she was expected to do it without argument. Isabella was just staring up at her confusion and a little disgust on her face, so Helen picked up the strap again and began to bring it down onto her unprotected buttocks.

  Thwack! Thwack! “Do as you’re told girl!” Helen barked and launched another assault. The room filled with the sound of leather on bare flesh.

  Swish! Thwack! Swish! Thwack!

  Isabella lowered her head and began to lick the tops of Helen’s feet. Thwack! The strap came in again. “Don’t play at it girl, all around, between the toes.” Swish! Thwack!

  Isabella sank down into being completely dominated by the Headmistress. Her head was swimming with the need to obey this woman, and the need for an orgasm to release her from her frustration.

  A hand gripped her shoulder and she was flipped onto her back and the sole of one foot was pressed to her mouth. Automatically the wide eyed girl stuck out her tongue and began to lick the dry sole of her tormentor’s foot. Tears ran from her eyes and she realised that she had passed a point of no return. She was giving herself to the Headmistress, far more than she had given herself to Mistress Jemma or the Headmaster. The other foot was offered and Isabella licked at that as well, unable to take her gaze off of the Headmistress.

  “Well,” Helen said, sarcasm dripping from every word, “multi talented then. Pussy eater and foot licker.” She dropped down and sat on Isabella’s chest. “Now I suppose you think you’ve earned the reward of an orgasm?”

  “If...If...it pleases my Mistress.” Helen smiled. Something inside Isabella had snapped. Her only thoughts were of pleasing her. It had been a long time since she had subjugated someone so deeply. It felt good to be back in the game.

  She got to her feet and pulled her new slave onto her knees. “Kneel here, legs wide apart,” she gave a gentle slap to the back of her head, “eyes down, slut.”

  Isabella dropped her eyes to the carpet and listened as the Headmistress got something out of the wardrobe behind her. She returned with plank of wood some four feet long in the centre of which w
as a tube a foot or so long. Helen screwed the end of the dildo onto the tube and slid the whole thing under the girl’s legs and fixed a strap around each calf.

  Now the plank was secure Helen angled the tube and slid the dildo into Isabella’s wet pussy. She gave a little gasp of pleasure as she did so, and tightened the screws that held the plastic invader in place. Isabella slid down the dildo and then began to fuck herself with it.

  Helen came back around the front and put her face inches from Isabella’s. It was a very short time before Isabella began to increase her speed and really pump up and down on the dildo, her orgasm, so long denied, beginning to build.

  As she peaked she felt two hands take her face and she opened her eyes to see Helen lean forwards and kiss her, forcing her tongue inside to tangle with hers. She responded eagerly, gasping as the orgasm washed over her.

  Helen pulled back and looked into her eyes. “Keep going slave,” she ordered, and left her to bring on another orgasm. Moments later she returned wearing a large strap on and carrying a tube of gel.

  In front of her face she covered the large dildo and then went around the back where the orgasming girl felt gel being pushed into her anus. Helen’s finger probed deeply and then offered the tip of the thick, rubber dildo to Isabella’s tightest orifice.

  She felt the Headmistress’s breasts push flat against her back and the instant of pain as she pushed the dildo inside of her. A pair of hands came around and gripped the chain that hung between her nipples and as she pulled on the chain so she rammed the dildo deep inside of her.

  Using the chain to control her, Helen began to pump the dildo in and out of her arse and bring the other dildo to meet them. The double penetration Isabella was feeling was painful and exciting at the same time. Twice more she orgasmed wildly, her brain fogging with the pleasure and pain she was feeling.

  She was panting heavily when Helen whispered in her ear. “One more my slave, for your Mistress.”

  With the last of her energy Isabella began to slide up and down the dildo again. Helen pulled on the chain and slowly fucked her arse as she did so, until Isabella orgasmed one last time and collapsed forward in a spent heap.

  Helen pulled the glistening dildos out and removed the plank. Isabella fell face down on the floor and lay spent at Helen’s feet. She reached down and helped her get to her feet. The girl stood with her head hanging down and groaned as Helen unclipped her hands from her collar and removed the nipple clamps. The tender nubs had been squeezed for nearly two hours and were filled with pins and needles.

  Helen led her into the bathroom and washed her thoroughly. Isabella stood passively as the older woman treated her like a child. Drying her off she was led to the bed where Helen told her she had one duty left to perform, to be her pillow for the night.

  Placed face down across the top of the bed, with her legs fastened to one end of the headboard and her hands to the other, she was left to sleep while her Mistress made tea and watched television.

  When she did come to bed Isabella felt strangely warm, safe and secure with Helen’s head settled in the small of her back. Her position was quite comfortable and she was exhausted by all that had gone on since supper. She slept contentedly, safe in the knowledge that she was going to Lower Marsh, and had accepted her place in the world of the Academies.

  Chapter Four

  Jenifer Smart buried her head further into the covers of her bed and waited for the next strike of the strap across the clenched cheeks of her backside, the next one would be the sixth, would it be the last?

  She didn’t know, the Headmaster had not told her how many he thought she needed as a reminder of old times past. She hoped it would be the last; the old glow/sting of the strap had made her wet and ready for what she hoped would happen next.

  She had thought she really didn’t want to do this, she was almost thirty years old and being face down on a bed being punished like a naughty girl had seemed silly somehow. But he had cajoled her into this position, somehow he knew that she had missed being dominated like this.

  All she wanted now was his prick up her pussy and the enormous orgasm that would follow.

  Her thoughts drifted back to earlier in the day when, as she left her job as a carer at the Vale care home in Exmouth, and she had seen the tall figure of the Headmaster smiling at her.

  Her stomach flipped with a combination of fear and excitement. It had been five years since she had spent a year at High Heath Academy after she had been convicted of stealing drugs from the hospital where she worked as a nurse for that bastard Paul.

  She had been infatuated with, what she thought at the time, was an older, sophisticated man. He had turned out to be a manipulator and a user who only wanted her to steal drugs for him. She was so infatuated that when she was arrested she wanted to take all the blame but after her conviction she had been hypnotised and had told the full story. He had been convicted of dealing in drugs and sentenced to eight years, with no parole.

  Jenifer had been offered the chance to go to a new institution for a year or five years in prison. It had been no contest, a year at some citizen school or five years in a woman’s prison.

  High Heath had turned out to be a harsh Spartan regime, corporal punishment, humiliation, repetitive citizen lessons, and no contact with the outside world for the whole year. The rules were petty and unbreakable without suffering consequences, painful consequences.

  In her year there she had learnt how to be a better person, not so self centred, worry about other people and respect the laws of the country. She had been spanked, strapped, paddled and caned for the first time ever. For the first three months her backside had been bruised and sore continuously.

  At first she resented being punished for no particular reason, especially by one of the female tutors or matron. She found that the women were quicker to demonstrate their power than the only man at the Academy, the Headmaster. But he punished significantly harder than they did, and demanded a higher submissive reaction.

  But, like the other girls at the Academy, she became in awe of the Headmaster, and felt almost happy that he had noticed her enough to want to punish her.

  When her year finished there was no way she wanted to go back, but it wasn’t that simple. What hadn’t been explained very well was that she still had a five year sentence; the following four years were spent under a parole officer who had just as much power over her as the Academy did.

  They found her a job with a care home, she had been barred from nursing and a place to live but for the first year she had weekly meetings with her parole officer, Marion Martins, or Mistress Marion as she had to call her.

  Mistress Marion would punish her for every small infraction she made, spankings, strappings, paddlings and once a month a twelve stroke caning in her own flat, stretched out across her own bed, crying into her duvet and counting the strokes off like a submissive slave and thanking her mistress for punishing her so thoroughly.

  When she got into a row with the middle aged male supervisor over his groping of her at any opportunity, Mistress Marion made her submit to an over the knee, bare bottom spanking by him in his office at the care home. Although after he had spanked her the groping stopped.

  By the end of her second year she was addicted to the pain and humiliation handed out to her and was upset that her mistress cut their meeting down to once a month.

  Within a year she had become the manager of a home and found a young compliant Philippine girl to become her slave and she thought she was a dominant. She and Maganda had lived together for over two years until she had met a man and wanted to start a family.

  A month previously she had her last meeting with Mistress Marion. It had been very formal, paperwork had been signed and she had felt strangely bereft afterwards.

  Then today, as she left work, she found the Headmaster waiting for her. He greeted her warml
y, called her Jenny, asked how her work was going and invited her to a meal that evening.

  Her tummy flipped as he asked her to dinner. For months while she was at High Heath she had fantasised about him, especially after one of his punishments. Now she was determined to show how she had matured and how he couldn’t dominate her like she was a little girl.

  She had a plan, she would dress as sexily as she could and then cut him off dead if he tried to have sex with her. Payback for all the times he had humiliated her and left her frustrated after a punishment.

  She chose her clothing carefully. Silk camisole, silk stockings and suspenders, silk French panties, little black dress that came half way down her thighs, all finished off with a pair of killer high heels. She twisted in front of the mirror. Not bad for a girl approaching thirty, stomach still flat, tits holding up well, strong thighs.

  She had no idea what he wanted, all she knew was he wasn’t going to have her. It was only later, when she looked back on their dinner, that she realised that she never was going to turn him down. Throughout their time together she called him Sir, and never even considered asking him his name.

  He picked her up and took her to the best restaurant locally, held out her chair for her, asked her to choose the wine. He was attentive, charming, and made her laugh with stories from her time at High Heath. Then he stunned her by telling her why he had come to see her.

  He wanted her to be Matron at a new correctional institution, called Lower Marsh. He explained that High Heath’s former Matron would be Headmistress there, and remembered her fondly and thought that she was somebody she could trust and work with.

  She remembered Matron very clearly from her time at the Academy. She had a habit of handing out enemas as the cure for any problem. This did mean that a ward would be unlikely to fake illness to get out of class; if you were not ill then giving control over to the austere, middle aged Matron was not a good idea.