Friday, August 26, 2011
All the better
“Goodbye mother!” Red Riding Hood called out gaily, and headed off into the forest, swinging his basket as he went. He was off to visit his auntie, because his poor dear mother was too tired to beat him properly, and without a good paddling every few days, little Red just couldn’t help getting up to the most awful mischief. He hadn’t been paddled for almost a week now, and his exhausted mother had taken just one look at the stained sheets in his bedroom and packed him off to auntie May’s, with a selection of leather and wooden paddles in his little basket.
She was glad that he was finally about to receive a bottom appropriate to his name, but Red’s mother knew that there was a dangerous dominatrix who lived in the woods through which he had to pass, and warned him not to talk to any strange women. Except his auntie, obviously.
So Red went skipping along the path, stopping once or twice to play with himself by the side of the road. But although he was almost permanently horny, he was a good boy at heart and dutifully recorded each ejaculation in the little punishment book he was carrying, to show his auntie. He knew that he was being particularly bad, as his mother had warned him not to stop at all along the way, for fear of the dominatrix. But Red’s urges were simply too pressing, and anyway despite living alongside the forest all his life, secretly he didn’t believe in the big bad dominatrix, who would lock you up for life, make you scream for her pleasure and do dreadful things to your most sensitive parts. He thought she was just a story mothers told their sons and husbands, to get them to bend over quietly for a spanking.
Anyway, this time he certainly didn’t meet a dominatrix, or anyone else and soon he arrived at his auntie’s cottage. It was years since he’d seen her. He supposed her daughter Jenny, his cousin, was all grown up now, like him. Even as a teenager, when they had last met, she had beguiled him with her long dark hair and her soft lips. The thought made him consider disappearing behind a bush for as few minutes, but he decided instead it was better to get it over with (and, in truth, he was rather concerned about how much correction the sins already listed in his little book would entail), so he nervously knocked and the door and waited for a response.
After a few moments, the door slowly swung open, and Red peered uncertainly into its dark interior. He could see nothing except a hall extending away into blackness.
“Come in!” he heard, in a deep but sensuously feminine voice. It seemed to be coming from the very end of the hall, so he gingerly entered the house and tiptoed forward. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he could see that the voice had emanated from a door, lightly ajar ahead of him at the very end of the hall. He advanced towards it, and raised his hand nervously to knock.
“I said come IN, boy!” the voice rapped out, this time with a distinct air of irritation. Red gulped, and pushed the door open quickly and steeped through.
Inside, through the gloom, he could dimly make out a figure seated in a chair at the far end of the room. The chair was raised up on a platform, like a throne, and around it and on the walls hung dark and menacing shapes. He started backwards in shock.
“Who are you, and what do you want?”, the figure in the chair asked in a silky, seductive voice – the impatient air of command gone now.
“Er…it’s Red” he stuttered in reply. “Little Red, here for a spanking from my aunty, with a basket full of paddles.”
“I see” the figure said. “Well, it’s nice to see you again, Red. Do you have your punishment book? Bring it here and we can get started.”
“Yes, err… Auntie?” Red replied. He tottered forward slowly. His eyes were becoming accustomed to the darkness, and soon he could make out some details of the figure he was approaching. She was wearing long black leather boots, that went up at least to her thighs as there was not a trace of leg to be seen.
“What big boots you have, auntie”, he remarked, desperately trying to break the oppressive silence.
“All the better to crush you under, my dear” the seated figure replied, pleasantly, and Red’s gaze instinctively flinched away to her arms. She was holding a cane, and flexing it easily between two deceptively slim arms.
“What strong arms you must have, auntie” he croaked, his mouth suddenly dry.
The figure laughed gently. “All the better to thrash you with, my dear” it replied, softly.
Finally, the boy’s eyes met hers: dark eyes that sparkled with amusement in a face of utter perfection, framed under a leather cap.
“What big eyes you have, err…auntie?” he gasped.
“All the better to watch you suffer, my dear” she replied with a smile, getting to her feet. “Now – down on your knees and kiss my boot.”
Red felt his legs collapsing under him, and he frantically jerked his head to one side to break free of the fascinating, mocking gaze. In doing so, he found himself looking at the wall, and suddenly realised what he was looking at there. It was a naked figure, apparently a woman in her late 50s, chained tightly to the wall by her ankles and her wrists. Her mouth was gagged, small shiny clips seemed to be attached to her nipples and from between her legs, several wires snaked down, to vanish into an evil-looking electronic device beside her. She was frantically jerking her head from side to side, and the gentlest whimpering sounds emerged through the gag as she thrashed about.
“Auntie!” Red gasped with shock, recognising her despite her peculiar predicament. He looked back at the figure standing before him in horror. “What have you done to her, you evil witch? And where’s Jenny?”
The dark lady burst out laughing. “Where’s Jenny? Oh Red, did I really make so little impression on you? And there was I thinking the tent-pole in your shorts was for me when you visited that time.”
“J-jenny?” Red asked, wonderingly. “B-b-but what are you doing to our dear auntie?”
“Oh, just a little game to while away the long nights here in the forest”, Jenny said, casually. “Sometimes she needs rather…severe measures.” She gently pressed a button, on a device held lightly between her fingers, and the figure attached to the wall began to buck around violently, making frantic keening sounds through its gag.”
“Bad auntie”, Jenny said, vaguely, and held the button for a few more seconds before releasing it, and letting the figure hang slack from its wrist restraints – now sweating profusely.
“But – your own mother?” Red asked.
“Oh, she’s not really my mother.” Jenny said dismissively. “Look closely there between her legs.”
Red peered, feeling rather out of place as a nephew inspecting his auntie’s genitals. He wasn’t quite sure what he saw. It didn’t look like his image of female genitalia, but there wasn’t really enough there to be a male either.
“Behold your uncle Malcolm”, Jenny said dismissively. “Tranny, sub and perverted old pain slut. I was found abandoned on the doorstep when I was a baby. He brought me up as his child, but we’re not relations, so there was really no reason when I came of age not to make him my bitch. He was gagging for it anyway.”
“Did he have a sex change?” Red asked with fascination, trying to discern exactly what it was that the seating creature had between its legs.
“Not exactly”, Jenny said. “I mean, surgical procedures were carried out, and it certainly doesn’t really count as male any more, but…well, it’s a bit complicated.”
She looked down at Red, kneeling at her feet. “Anyway, I’m not related to you, either. Isn’t that interesting? It certainly creates some new possibilities.”
Red looked up at her face, and started to smile, before reeling under a savage slap to his cheek from her gloved hand.
“Now – we’ll have that punishment book please”, she commanded. “And we’ll have to add something there about failing to kiss my boot when commanded.”
Four hours later, Red lay panting, suspended (like his “auntie” opposite) from wrist restraints. His back was a mass of bruises and welts from Jenny’s cane and a variety of whips. His nipples were sore beyond belief, having been pulled, twisted, crushed and burnt until he had lacked the breath to scream any more . Between his legs, though, his penis (which had also seen its share of rough treatment) finally hung flaccid, Jenny’s ministrations having finally exhausted even this randy twenty year-old’s capacity. He was sore all over, and exhausted , but strangely happy.
“Did you really think I was your auntie?”, Jenny asked, with a kittenish grin. “I should be offended – to be mistaken for that wrinkled old bag” – and she lashed out playfully with her whip, the tip of which caught auntie hard across ‘her’ left breast, where it added an angry red mark to the pattern of welts that already existed.
“I had my doubts” confessed Red, sheepishly. “Actually” he admitted, with an embarrassed grin, “I thought perhaps you were the big bad dominatrix who lives in the woods.”
“The one who tortures bad boys and girls for fun?” laughed Jenny.
“Yes” he admitted. “And keeps them in her lair until she’s bored with them, then cuts off their…their…” Red’s voice trailed off, as a rather unpleasant thought occurred to him.
“Oh you silly boy.” Jenny said, her hand snaking down to his genitals, and stroking them thoughtfully.
“Surely you know that’s just a myth.”