Punishment Second Visit

You will remember my telling you about the games which Mark, my husband, and I like to play and how we had found that Georgian house in Southampton where fantasies became reality. Of course, I had to pay a second visit and it was delicious to know that, when Mark made the booking, he will have chosen my inconveniences from a ticklist on the website so, in effect, it was he who would be inflicting my punishments that weekend.

As with last time, I left work early on Friday afternoon and took a train and a taxi to the imposing front steps of the property. I was admitted by the same hard-faced, middle-aged woman but this time she was dressed as a nun and she had a chain belt about her waist with a bunch of keys hanging down one side and a small, but wicked, flogger down the other.

Once again, she had me stand beside that little table in the hallway while she obtained my consent to all that would happen and set out the requirements for unquestioning obedience on my part. She was a very imposing and intimidating person.

She made me turn out all my pockets and place the contents beside my shoes and my bag on the table. Somehow the expression on her face said that she totally disapproved of all my pocket clutter and would be applying an extra punishment because of whatever it was that she had found wrong with my possessions.

Then she commanded me to follow her through the door off the hallway and down the cold, brick steps to the cellar. We passed along the corridor on the cold, concrete floor under weak electric lighting and came to a chamber which I had not seen on my previous visit.

It was like stepping into the Middle Ages. The walls were the original great stones which had been here since the eighteenth century and there was a high, stone vaulted ceiling. Modern electric lighting had been added high on the walls but the bulbs were low powered so the lighting was poor and did not overcome the flickering red light from the blazing cast iron brazier which stood in the middle of the stone floor. Along one wall was a long table with whatever it held hidden by a white sheet. Away in the gloom, I saw other shapes but did not register what they were. There were two wooden, throne like chairs. The iron rings set into floor and walls at random intervals were probably modern additions but they were of sufficient age to acquire a coating of rust.

“Take off that pretentious jacket and cast it into the fire.”

Was she talking metaphorically? She couldn’t mean it. Did she know what my jacket had cost?”

“You heard me girl. Get on with it.”

Reluctantly I took off my jacket and slowly moved it towards the brazier hoping, at any moment, to be told to stop. But that order never came and my work jacket went into the flames which immediately began to consume it.

“Well done. Now the skirt if you please.”

Were they going to send me home naked? You can have no concept of how humiliating it felt to take off my skirt in front of this horrible woman. Just an hour ago I had been a confident, successful solicitor and, by pure force of character, she had reduced me to…whatever I now was.

The fire made a whoomph sound as it took my skirt and then my tights and knickers went the same way. Responding to her commands my fingers awkwardly unbuttoned my cream blouse and put into the fire, almost burning myself as I had not expected the material to flame as violently as it did.

I was now in just my bra and, of course my breasts were soon on display as my bra went into the fire – and it had not been a cheap Marks and Spencer product.