Message-ID: <29873asstr$987347403@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: From: "Peter Mair" Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/html X-Original-Message-ID: X-OriginalArrivalTime: 01 Apr 2001 13:05:15.0239 (UTC) FILETIME=[64AA2F70:01C0BAAC] Subject: {ASSM} Leather and the lash Date: Sun, 15 Apr 2001 11:10:03 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, t4425 Hi there, i wish to sumbit the following as a story. Leather and lash Driving in her BMW sports car through the leafy suburbs of the city to her home, thirty one year old Stephanie Richardson was every inch the glossy, high maintenance rich man's wife. Diamond necklace gleaming in the bright sunlight, dior shades, bright red lips and nails. Long bright red fingernails which she drummed on the dashboard waiting for the traffic lights to change. Stephanie had returned from an over night stay at an old boyfriends. Her landowner husband was away on business in the far east for a week. She drove up the long approach road to their ranch just outside the city. As she exited the car, we see she is dressed in a business suit, sheer stockings and black patent leather stilletos with four inch heels. Opening the boot, a servant approaches to help. 'It is okay Tico, i'll manage' she says firmly taking out a leather holdall with a padlock. The servant scurries back to the house. Opening the bag once in the safety of her private quarters, Stephanie, takes out the contents; a black leather cat suit, a cat of nine tails, thigh high patent leather boots, a mask and hood. She musesd back to the following evening. Things always took the same course with Jacques, a city art dealer. Dressed in her gear, masked, long glossy auburn salon tresses flowing behind. Him suspened from his loft celing in chains. Naked save a black hood. Admiring her rich bitch talons, inch long fibreglass nail extensions maintained on a weekly basis by her local beauty salon, these nails were great for sex, for nights like these, but she was fed up looking a million dollars all the time. Surveying her talons,she knew she could not do without them. They were now part of what she was as a woman. Applying them to his flesh, she broke his skin around the small of the back. Strutting on her spiky heels, the sound they made on the stone floor arousing for both parties, she surveyed the hooks on the wall. Each held an instrument of punishment. Her own cat, a long tailed whip used by prison guards(Jacques collected such things), a cart whip used to flog slaves............she chose this and told Jacques how many lashes of the whip he would receive and to make sure he counted as appropriate after each! The telephone rang in the bedroom, breaking her out of her revery........... Next day in the master bedroom getting on her make up she felt bored, the propect of a couple of days on her own, no boyfriends in town, no husband. She looked out to the fields far from the house where workers were picking fruit, overseers with long whips ready to punish any slacking......... hmmm, she thought....... Pulling black leather trousers rounf her slim, svelt hips, she debated on whether to wear her snakeskin cowboy boots. These were good for shopping.......instead her eyes caught a pair of strappy patent leather stilletos. Perfect for today she purred to herself Pulling the long straps round her slim ankle she was turned on as always when putting on tarty heels. The only problem with straps were fastening them with long nails! Standing up she felt tension in the ball of her foot and ankles. The result of standing up in thise spiky bootsall last night. After the punishment Jacques had stripped her naked save her sexy boots and bent her over a wooden table for a sound fucking, She loved being taken from behind in those boots. Heels clicking through the marble hallway, Stephanie was annpyed when a new servant asked her a question about pay. She never talked to the help. always going through the foreman or overseers first. This plus the prospect of no sex for a few days put the bitch in a bad mood. She rapped her nails on the coffee table and picked up a society magazine. The phone rang.... 'What now?' she thought to herself. Teetering across the spacious lounge, her stilletos plunged deep into the thick pile carpet. These are too high for the house she winced. Her husband liked her in heels, vamped up to look a million dollars. A reflection of his own wealth. To look sexier, more desirable than the other rich wifes in the area. That is the price have to pay she concluded. Her designer clothes, nails, hair amd beauty treatments were all part of the prison she was locked into. Picking up the phone she nodded her way through a banal discussion with what seemed like an older relative. Having completed the call she redialled another number. 'Greg, it's Mrs Richarson. Greg, i don't apprecitate the slackness in the staff these days. I want you to select someone at random and have them punished severly as an example. Come to my study now and i'll give you the whip'. She replaced the handset. In the oak panelled study, sadistic Greg was only too ready to have a servant whipped but wondered why she was insisting on giving him this whip in particular. Trying not to stare at the beautiful brunettte too much, he could smell her expensive perfume and was worried about getting an erection in her prescence. 'There you go' she purred. 'fifteen lashes'. running her square tipped talons through the tails of the whip, she could see she was arousing the hillbilly with her actions. All the rich women he and worked for had these long nails.He wondered to him self whether this was because they were pleasurable to wear, sexy for their husbands to have their flesh scratched or just as aa status symbol - 'i'm rich,vain and don't do dishes'. Whatever........ he thought but they sure looked good. 'That's all' she said curtly geting back into bitch mode. The hillbilly nodded and left. Stephanie wanted to watch the specatcle. On this quiet sunday sfternoon thee would be no one else around the premises. It would be a short walk to the barn where it would take place. Burly Greg had already started pulling the protesting victim to the barn as Stephnie wobbled through the courtyard in her flimsy spike heels. Shit she thought as she wobbled on each cobble! These heels were fine for plush living rooms, for the bedroom, for hotel lobbys and expensive restaurants but what was she doing teetering on cobbles on a sunday afternoon? Truth was she hardly had any flat shoes, certainly no trainers or loafers, truth was she was a rich high heeled,long nailed, vain rich bitch and that is all there was to it! Steph could see the falling lash as she entered the old barn but not as yet the cowering wretch chained to the post. She could hear the overseer hillbilly bully boy running the long tails of the lash through his hands. 'I said i wanted you to count them motherfucker' he bellowed. 'One' cried the voice fearfully. The flogger grasped the thick handle of his cat and swung the long tails back over his shoulder. Hissing and swishing through the air Stephanie could hear the dreadful impact and the anguished cry that followed. 'Two'. Stephanie swallowed hard, this was more brutal than she had thought but she was aroused all the same. She moved forward to get a look at the post and victim, taking care not to make sound on the stone floor with those sharp heels. The leather material taut against her thighs as she tip toed even higher than the height of her heels, she could now see white man perched on a block, naked with his arms manacled high above his head. the overseer had a rhythm going now, whipping his victim mercilessly. Steph dug her long nails into her palms with each blow. Her ankles were starting to wobble in their strappy high heeled prison. She felt guilty but suffused with power. She could stop all of this with one word. Swearing to himself whilst doing so, the overseer grinmaced and continued the punishment as decreed by mrs Richardson. The terrible tails of the lash continued to fall with deadly accuracy until number fifteen was finsihed. Stephanie would stick to whipping games from now on. -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+