#12 Andreabound does Hard Labor – Friday Night

I recently made contact with a girl who would act as my self-bondage backup. But Sara was so impressed with my homemade jail cell that she talked me into also letting her come over and spend the weekend. We’d discussed various ideas and scenarios the first night we met but I didn’t really know what she had planned;  I quite liked it that way. I spent a couple of days bubbling with anticipation, not sure what I’d got myself into and I nearly phoned to cancel a couple of times, scared of the idea of putting myself completely at the mercy of a stranger.

We had hit it off as soon as we’d met but I still knew next to nothing about Sara. She certainly didn’t fit my stereotype of a mistress or someone I could easily imagine binding me up and tormenting me. Her style seemed somewhat too casual for that and she was a natural extrovert – bubbly and giggly. I am more introverted and prone to introspection; so I guess the differences between us were a starting point at least.

Anyway, Friday night rolled around and once her shift finished, (she works as a buyer for a trendy fashion store) she came round and presented herself at my door.

In her work clothes Sara actually looked quite different; still more casual than I would dress for the office, but quite presentable. Her unruly mop of hair had been brushed into a semblance of a style but still fell in a cute bang across her eyes. She didn’t wear heels either, I noticed with disappointment. But then she still had a couple of inches on me even though I was wearing four inch heels, having dressed up for the visit as I wanted to make an impression (who knows why; it’s just what I do).

Sara had bought a large overnight bag with her and pointing to it as she entered my house said, “bought you a present. And I’ve got a surprise for you too”.  She gave me a flash of her huge infectious smile and I was suddenly put at ease. I just knew this weekend was going to be fun.

“Later,” I said. “Let’s eat first”. But Sara wanted to get started and suggested we eat later. Fine by me; I had bought in lots of great food for us to share over the weekend but I certainly wasn’t averse to waiting. Besides my stomach was doing flip-flops, due to the increasing anticipation, and I didn’t feel like eating right now, anyway.

“Whatever you say, Sara”. I said. “You’re the boss this weekend”.

We’d already talked over the limits, boundaries and safe-words but Sara wanted to check that there was a real understanding. Suddenly, I saw a different side to her; she was all professionalism and seemed to know what she was doing. It was a strange transformation, but I was glad she was taking my safety so seriously and I felt safe in her hands already.

“I need to get ready, can we go to your room” she asked. So I took her upstairs. Sara put me so at ease that showing her where I kept my stash of bondage toys and going through my wardrobe together seemed entirely natural. Normally, I’m quite a private person and wouldn’t let anyone into my ‘inner chamber’.

We rummaged through my stuff for a while and laughed at the bizarre combinations we could create using my diverse wardrobe; holding items up against us as we twirled in front of my full-length mirror in an impromptu fashion show. Then Sara looked at me with that serious face again and asked if I was ready to start. My heart started to race and my palms were damp; I was ready.

Sara shooed me out of my own bedroom, so I sat at the top of the stairs listening to my visitor open her overnight bag and then the sounds of my wardrobe doors and drawers opening and closing as she obviously searched for something.

By the time the bedroom door opened twenty minutes later, and I was summoned back into my own bedroom, I was practically stewing in my own juices. I walked in not sure what I expected to see.

Sara was totally transformed. Her hair had been pulled back into a severe ponytail. She was wearing makeup that turned her otherwise smiley and friendly face into a mask of sternness. But it was her clothes I noticed the most. Gone were the casual tee-shirt and jeans. In their place she was dressed as a lady cop complete with pressed khaki jacket, breeches, shades, cap and riding boots that while probably not authentic police attire, certainly added to the overall appearance of a serious authority figure. I couldn’t help it; I giggled at her sudden transformation from cute office girl to serious Dom. My laughter was short-lived though. Sara just looked me in the eye and was all business.

“Come here girl and wipe that silly smile off your face!” she commanded. So, the games had begun.

“Sorry Sara, I didn’t know we were starting yet” I said.

“Silence!” she yelled at me and to make her point brought round a riding crop she had previously been hiding behind her back. I felt a sting on my thigh. It wasn’t hard really, but the shock of being struck shut me up. The crop was moved to the front and Sara used the end of it to lift my chin so that I had to look her in the eyes. I stared back at my own reflection; unable to fathom her expression beneath the shades.

Even the tone of Sara’s voice had changed. Now there was a distinct chill in it that seemed incongruous with the open, friendly girl I knew her to be in reality. “Now listen here, Prisoner 4075.” She said. “You will not be so familiar with me. Do you understand?” Sara emphasized her point by pushing the tip of the crop so my chin was raised even further. I stood dead still, not daring to move. I realized I hadn’t been breathing for a while and took a shallow breath. “No Ma’am” I said, lowering my eyes and suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable. This was a real change in affairs. It’s one thing to imagine and fantasize about this; but entirely another to realize I was actually submitting my will to another.

“That’s better” Sara said. “Now strip!”

I was out of my clothes faster than I think I’d ever been. I stooped to pick them up and tidy them away but Sara gently laid the crop across my back and told me to leave the discarded items on the floor. It was against my nature to leave a mess but I did what I was told, sure I didn’t want to feel the sting of the crop against my naked flesh.

I was made to turn around and after pushing me up against the dresser and roughly moving my legs apart with her boot; Sara fastened handcuffs around my wrists. These were hinged cuffs – they certainly weren’t from my collection. I’d never worn this type of cuffs before and they felt really good. Something else to add to my shopping list for later.

Warning me not to move, Sara bent down and fastened my ankles in my ankle-cuffs. These have about eighteen inches of chain between them allowing me some small movement. Next item was my leather chastity-belt. Sadly, Sara did not insert one of my dildos before pulling it on and using some of my small padlocks to fasten the belt in place. Thumbcuffs were next but she was devious and fed the small cuffs through the ring on the back of the waist band of my chastity-belt before closing the jaws around my thumbs. I heard small clicks as she engaged the double-locks on both sets of cuffs. Now my hands were attached to my back and completely useless. I wondered if that meant Sara would have to feed me dinner. Well she would certainly be cooking it on her own unless she planned to release me soon. I suspected early release was not an option.

“What if I need to use the bathroom after dinner?” I asked coyly.

“Dinner? Who said you’re getting any dinner” she snapped back.

“But I’ve bought such nice food for us…” I began.

“Will you be silent!” Sara shouted at me. “Stop your whining Prisoner 4075 or I will gag you. Is that clear?”

“Yes ma’am” I said, suddenly feeling really hungry. I guessed as part of this game and I would have to earn my supper. Best to play along or I would be going to bed hungry.

Sara sat me on the edge of the bed to show me my present. She reached into her overnight bag and pulled out the most gorgeous leather hood, holding it up so I could see it clearly. The leather looked really supple and soft just how I like it. The hood had laces up the back and a wide lockable strap at the neck that that fit over the ends of the laces. There were holes for the eyes and mouth and two little rivets over the nostrils. At the sides of the mouth and eye holes were fastenings that I assumed would allow a gag and blindfold to be added. I wanted to wear that hood so badly.

And so I did. Sara could obviously see my need and obliged me by pulling the hood over my head and adjusting it so that it was comfortable. She reached behind me and pulled the laces until the hood was snug and slightly less comfortable to wear. I heard the click of a padlock and knew the hood was now locked onto me. I shivered with delight; my lips parted and I licked my lips.

“Ah, so you do want a gag” she said and, reaching back into her bag, retrieved a selection of gags that all had the same hardware so they could be attached to my hood. “Hmm, which one to use?” She pondered; holding up each to my lips in turn as if trying them for size. There was a ring-gag, a ball-gag, a plain leather strap, and a large penis-gag, each fixed on a piece of leather that, when strapped on, would completely seal the mouth hole of the hood.

She could see my eyes widen at the size of the penis gag and so her choice was clear. “So you chose this one huh?” she said jamming the gag against my teeth. Of course I opened my mouth to complain at the sudden force and the outcome was inevitable. I’d had larger gags in my mouth but never before had the decision been taken out of my hands. This was suddenly scary. We had passed the point of no return. I was restrained so that my hands were useless, I couldn’t run off and now I couldn’t even speak. Of course I’d done this to myself many times before but this feeling was subtly different and it felt awesome.

A blindfold was next. Sara held it up long enough that I could see the padded back, before strapping it over my eyes.

And so the weekend began. I was marched unceremoniously down to the basement and heard the cell door being locked behind me. “Yes, I’ve decided. There’s no dinner for you tonight”. Sara taunted me from beyond my prison. “That’s your punishment for calling me fat on your website the other day. You might get food tomorrow if I feel like it but you’ll have to work hard if you want to eat.” I heard her move off and I was alone.

Back in my cell; but this time more restrained and not in control of my own freedom.

I fumbled about in my hood induced blindness and found the edge of the bed. Then I remembered that I’d thrown the mattress away after someone emailed me advising the mold I’d introduced to make it more authentic could be really unhealthy for me. Tonight was going to be an uncomfortable one.

In fact it was impossible to get comfortable. The way my thumbs were locked to my waistband meant it was impossible to lie on my back. I had to lie on my side and turning over to relieve the pain of the bedsprings digging into my side was a major exercise. I managed to slip into a sort of dazed stupor, dreaming of the sorts of torment I would be likely to endure this weekend. Of course Sara and I had discussed various options but I had wanted to leave the majority of it up to her imagination. That way I could be sure of at least a few surprises and she would be free to test my limits for herself.

Sometime later I was roused by the smell of cooking. That smelt delicious; maybe Sara would relent and free me for dinner after all.

Sara did arrive at my cell door about half an hour later, but just to tell me about how much she’d enjoyed our dinner. She even brought a plate of food down so I could smell it better. I called her a bitch – counting on the fact that only a muffled sound would emerge from the gag. Sara was too cute for that though and said, “I heard you. You’ll pay for that. Insulting the guards is a fixed penalty of six lashes. That can wait until tomorrow. Something for you to look forward to!” And something I would have to think about all night. Boy, was she good at this. She knew just the right buttons to press with me. I wondered if there were schools for Dominants and what other tricks they might teach there.

I heard the cell door opening and Sara approached me. She removed my gag and gave me a drink of water. “If you need to pee, your chemical toilet is in the corner” she said. “I’m going to leave the gag out so you can sleep. It’s not safe to leave you gagged like that when I’m not around.”  I must have pouted at that because she suddenly broke out of character and laughed softly. “Ok how about the ring gag? Can you wear that all night? I’m just worried about your breathing. Andrea”. I told her I could manage the ring-gag, no problem, so she went off to fetch it from the bedroom.

This wasn’t like my normal ring-gag, though. It was basically a tube fixed into the leather strap that attached to the hood. The tube went a couple of inches into my mouth and unlike my usual ring-gag which sits behind my teeth allowing me to close my mouth slightly, this tube forced my mouth wide open and had no give at all. I realized I had made a mistake, thinking I could cope with this intruder for the night, but by the time I had realized my error, the thing was already in place and my power of speech had been removed. I could still use my safe-word (sound) but I didn’t want to end the scene so I just swallowed my pride and bore it.

Sara wasn’t finished with me yet. She laid me back on the bed and started to play with my nipples. She alternated stoking and licking them with flicking and occasionally biting. It was driving me wild. I could feel a giant orgasm building inside me. The whole situation was getting to me; locked up in steel restraints, shut up in my own jail cell, with a relative stranger leaning on me and teasing my nipples in such an expert way. I came closer and closer to the edge and was about to succumb to a rolling wave of passion when Sara suddenly stood up and gave my breast a really hard slap. That took the pleasure right out of the situation.

So that was her game; to get me wound up and leave me on the edge all night, unsatisfied. I was glad I’d called her a bitch earlier even if I was going to pay for it tomorrow. I would have called her names again but this new gag wouldn’t even let me make a sound; and I would be wearing it all night. That was entirely my own fault too!

I heard the cell door slam again, the bolt drawn, and the key turned in the padlock that kept me prisoner. It was going to be a long night.

Andreabound does Hard Labor – Saturday Morning

The smell of breakfast is probably what woke me. By the time Sara came down to release me from my cell I was salivating from the smell; desperately hungry by now.

She removed my gag and blindfold but it was several minutes before I could work my jaw enough to speak. “If I ask for that again tomorrow night, just ignore me” I said.

Sara was just wearing her (my!) night clothes. And with the uniform gone, seemed to be back to her normal bright self but, if I thought this meant a change in our relationship, I was wrong.

“Here’s the deal. You can have some breakfast on account. But first you have to promise to obey me without question all day.” she said. “Alternatively I can give you another drink, put your gag back in, and leave you to rot in here all day.” Some choice!

“Ok, I promise to be your slave all day” I said; actually looking forward to the prospect.

With that, she led me upstairs to the guest bedroom where she’d laid out my clothes for the day. I looked at them in distaste, but I supposed it was better than spending the rest of the weekend naked.

After removing my restraints, Sara left me to clean myself up and get ready for the day’s chores. This girl had obviously been to the costume store. First there was the police woman outfit and now this French maid costume. I wondered what other surprises she had hidden in her bag.

I found a note on the bed on top of my outfit, stating I had fifteen minutes to get ready and come downstairs to start the day’s duties or there would be consequences. The note also described how I should restrain myself with the provided equipment before presenting myself to Sara in the kitchen.

A quick shower was followed by slapping on a little makeup to freshen myself up. After I was dry, I pulled on the thigh-length seamed black stockings and attached them to the garter-belt. A matching bra was a couple of sizes too small for me (teach me to publish my measurements on the internet!) and pushed my breasts into an impressive cleavage, given my smallish attributes. The dress itself was difficult to put on, being at least a size too small. The dress was of black silk with a white lace trim. It had a low cut front, making for the most exposure of my cleavage and the hem barely covered the tops of my stockings. One thing I did like about the dress is that there were a lot of layers, making it flare out from my hips into a lovely bell shape. There was a pair of five inch heels that were obviously meant for me to wear so I slipped them on. A white lace-edged apron and matching cap finished the ensemble. The pair of short black lace fingerless gloves seemed to be overkill, but I dutifully put them on anyway.

My leather cuffs were waiting for me under the pile of clothes. I knew the drill with these having worn them so many times before. It took only a matter of seconds to wrap the cuffs around my wrists and ankle and fasten them on using the small padlocks provided. The matching collar was a predictable but somehow comfortable addition. The ankle cuffs were to be connected with a short heavy chain and the wrist cuffs similarly attached together. Then a further chain went between the two connecting chains, preventing me from lifting my hands above my shoulders.

I arrived in the kitchen with minutes to spare and was greeted by a horrifying sight. The kitchen was in a terrible state. My lovely kitchen looked like it had been host to a riot. How could one person have made such a mess in such a short space of time?

Sara was sitting on one of my dining chairs, leaning back against a cupboard, seemingly not even noticing the chaos she’d introduced to my house. She was still wearing my best night clothes and seemed in no hurry to get dressed.

I opened my mouth to express my outrage but she put a finger to her lips and said “Do I have to gag you? Tidy this mess up and we’ll say no more about it. Make my kitchen really shine and I might even let you have the leftovers from my breakfast”

‘My’ Kitchen!? Leftovers? She was pushing her luck with me. But I knew better than to answer back; remembering the promised six lashes. Maybe if I was good, and got on with my tasks without complaining, she’d forget about the punishment.

I went to the cupboard and fetched a bucket and mop. First the floor; it was grimy and it looked like she’s walked in the mess and trampled grease and food all over the house. And so I spent the next hour or so cleaning up the kitchen. All the time Sara, just sat back on her chair pretending to read a magazine and ignoring me. At last the kitchen was spotless and I’d put all the uneaten food on the one unwashed plate ready to eat. Cold, it didn’t look as appetizing now as it had smelt earlier, but I was hungry enough to eat almost anything right then.

Sara made a show of inspecting my work but, although I say I myself, I’m a good housekeeper and she couldn’t find anything to complain about.

“It’s a start”, she said grudgingly “Sit and eat, there’s plenty more chores for you this morning”. I gulped down the scraps she had left me and washed the plate and fork; still hungry, but sure I could make it ‘til lunchtime.

Next was the bedroom, still strewn with my clothes from the night before, and now with an unmade bed. Didn’t this girl know how to tidy up after herself? I was tempted to take a peek in her bag as it lay on the floor at the bottom of the bed but Sara was standing guard, leaning lazily against the doorway. It didn’t take me long to straighten the bedroom so it was onto the living area, where Sara had obviously made herself at home the night before. There were chip crumbs all over my new sofa and they’d even been trodden into the carpet. Under any other circumstances I would have had a fit about the mess, but I just got on quietly, fixing up the chaos Sara had introduced to my usually spotless house. I knew she was testing me; baiting me to see if I would complain and earn myself a consequence but I wasn’t going to let her have that pleasure.

Once that room was complete, I had to vacuum the stairs and sweep the hallway. At this point Sara reached up and swept her finger along the top of a picture frame hanging in the hallway. “Useless!” was her only comment.

That was the final straw. “How do you expect me to reach that high with my hands chained to my ankles” I blurted out. I immediately regretted my outburst. Damn! I knew she was trying to get a rise from me, why did I have to fall for it?

Sara simply slapped me across the face with the back of her hand. I was too stunned to move. “How dare you speak to me like that!” she spat. “You’re just a hired hand. You will get on your knees right now and say you’re sorry”.

Shocked; I did as she commanded and dropped onto my knees at her feet. “I’m sorry” I said. “It was my fault.”

“I’m sorry, what?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, Mistress” I said. Somehow, where ma’am was right for list night, mistress seemed more appropriate this morning.

“That’s earned you a punishment” she said. “But as you did a reasonable job of the rest of my house, I’ll let you choose. Either you can have your six lashes now and earn six more for later or you can go without lunch.”

I was still hungry and didn’t want to miss out on some real food at lunchtime, but neither was I in any hurry to experience the lash so I said “I’m not really hungry” and remembered to hurriedly add “Mistress.”

“Suit yourself” she said. “You can stay right there and think about it while I get dressed.”

With that she wandered off upstairs, obviously not in a hurry to go anywhere. I knew she was going to take ages and I would just have to wait on my knees, in the hallway until she was good and ready for me. At least it was a break from the exertions of the morning.

Andreabound does Hard Labor – Saturday Afternoon

Eventually Sara came back down the stairs. She was wearing some more of my clothes having helped herself to the contents of my wardrobe. My clothes fit a little tight on her and she seemed to be bursting out all over. It gave her a sultry, sexy look that I had never managed to achieve with the very same clothes; I wished I had her curves. If I did, maybe I wouldn’t be here. Maybe I’d have some hunk to tie me up instead. Still, I was having fun (sort of) so it wasn’t all bad.

“The bedroom is a mess” she announced. Hardly surprising, since she’d just spent the best part of an hour in there I thought. Quite what a mess she’d made, I didn’t suspect until she’d dragged me back up there to clean up after her. She must have tried on almost every item in my wardrobe and, of course, none of it had been put back; just dropped on the floor in an untidy heap. The drawers hadn’t fared much better; they were all hanging open and my underwear was scattered all over the room. Somehow it didn’t feel right for her to be going through my most intimate items and I wondered if she’d just done it for show or whether she was actually wearing some of my undergarments now.

It took me a good half-hour of hard work to put right her invasion of clutter. By the time I had finished I was really hungry and was regretting my decision to forgo lunch. I wondered if it was too late to change my mind, but still to fearful of the promised lashing; I kept my mouth shut.

I was just putting the last item away when Sara grabbed the ring at the front of my collar and pulled me stumbling to the window. I tried to pull back, fearful that a neighbor might be outside and see me like this, but Sara easily pulled me back to the window and made me look outside.

“Look at that yard” she said. “How could you let it get into such a state?”

It was true; the yard was in a desperate way. I had been so busy doing jobs around the house and spending every spare minute tying myself up that I hadn’t done anything to the yard yet. I’d promised myself I would get round to it when the weather improved.

“That’s your job after lunch” she said, finally letting me go.

Unfortunately, what Sara meant by lunch was, that I would make it and she would eat it. She could obviously see that I was having second thoughts about sacrificing my lunch, but she was waiting for me to make the first move. I wasn’t going to give in to her so I toughed it out. Sara responded by dragging the whole process out as long as she could; making me fetch all sorts of items of food from the cupboards and fridge for her to try before discarding them. She also made sure to create as many dirty dishes as she could. By the end of her meal I was weakening to the point I was ready to beg for some food, but she had timed this too and sensing I was about to ask to change my punishment, abruptly ended lunchtime and sent me to kneel in the hallway again while she went back upstairs.

After a while I was summoned up to the guest bedroom and handed the key to my restraints. Sara told me to change into the clothes she had laid out for me.

On entering the room, I found my ankle-length denim skirt had been left on the bed with a long-sleeved, loose top. My high-heeled boots were there too, but no underwear. Another note detailed the inevitable restraints.

I was to wind a rope around my knees, leaving a six inch gap between them. The rope was then to be wound around the ropes passing between my two knees pulling those ropes together and forming a sort of short rope spreader bar between my knees. This would enable me some slight movement. I could walk but only in short mincing steps. The ankle cuffs were to go on over my boots and the chain between them was shorter this time – only twelve inches.

A chain wrapped around my waist was for attaching my wrist cuffs to on each side by means of short chains. I was also told to wrap a rope harness around my upper body and through my crotch. The instructions said to make it as tight as I could, to avoid punishment.

Once the top was on and skirt pulled down it was difficult to see my restraints unless you knew they were there. I could guess why this was.

Sara took me back downstairs and out into the yard. She had made a list of chores that I knew would be both back-breaking and impossible to achieve in the time before it got dark. My restraints would only make the task more difficult. Sara had made it clear that any tasks on the list not completed by nightfall would earn me yet more punishments. The list she handed me consisted of ten items.

1. Cut the grass
2. Mend the fence
3. Pull up the weeds
4. Sweep the paths
5. Clear up last Fall’s leaves
6. Tidy up the junk
7. Cut back the bushes
8. Clean the downstairs windows
9. Tidy up the tool shed
10. Clean the back step

Underneath the list of tasks Sara had written another list; this time presumably of punishments for not completing all of my allotted tasks.

1. Six lashes of the whip
2. No dinner
3. Tied to the post in the basement and having your breasts tormented
4. Put over my knee for a spanking
5. Wear the ring-gag for the night
6. Pleasure me with your tongue until I’m satisfied
7. Clean the bathroom with a toothbrush
8. Clean the Kitchen floor using only your tongue
9. Wear the clover clamps until tomorrow morning
10. A paddling

It wasn’t clear by the numbering she’d used which punishment related to which uncompleted task, but since none of the punishments appealed to me I guessed it didn’t matter much anyway.

I would just have to complete as many as I could, so I went out into the yard to make a start. Once outside, I tested the limits of my restraints.

The rope between my knees and short ankle chain would allow me to move around the yard ok, if only very slowly. I reckoned this wouldn’t prevent me doing any of the tasks but would prove to be a pain for those tasks such as weeding where I would need to keep getting up and down.

Having my wrists chained to my waist was a bigger problem. There was enough slack to allow me to lift my hands up to my shoulders, but no further. I could hold my hands in front or behind me but I couldn’t stretch my arms out. This would make a few of the tasks on the list, such as mending the fence and cleaning the windows, almost impossible to complete.

The rope harness was not really an encumbrance at all so I ignored it from my calculations of which jobs to do, in which order, to enable me to avoid the most number of punishments.

So I set to my list of yard chores, just determined to get as many done as possible.

I swept and dug, and moved heavy items about; I weeded and swept again, cut back the bushes and moved yet more junk about from one side of the yard to another. One path had a layer of mud on it and this took some real effort to get clean.

I had underestimated, however, how much more difficult simply having my knees roped together would make the work and I was starting to chafe from the constant rubbing of the rope harness. My wrists were the main problem though; they made getting up and down slow work and prevented me from reaching the top of the fence. I would just have to hope this particular job didn’t have a nasty punishment associated with my failure to accomplish it. I also discovered that my restraints made it impossible to tidy up the tool shed.

My biggest enemy though, was time. I knew I simply couldn’t make the yard look good in one afternoon. I found myself rushing from one task to another, trying at least to make a start on the whole list before I ran out of daylight.

At least the neighbors weren’t out today and I didn’t see anyone at the windows while I worked. I was grateful for that small mercy.

By the time Sara came out to fetch me, I was a flustered, dirty, sweaty, mess. She had changed back into the police woman’s outfit (I could imagine the state of my bedroom yet again). With the change of clothes she had become all business.

“Prisoner 4075!” She barked, marching out of the back door and down the steps into the half-finished yard. “Inspection time; stand still”. I froze.

Sara walked around the yard inspecting my work and comparing it to her list. She would occasionally make clucking sounds and this would usually result in a hasty scribble on the paper in her hand.

Eventually, she came to stand in front of me and read off her amended list in a clipped voice:

1.  Cut the grass – you missed a bit; half a demerit
2. Mend the fence – not done; one demerit
3. Pull up the weeds – job well done; no punishment due.
4. Sweep the paths – still some dirt on one path; half demerit
5. Clear up last Fall’s leaves – missed some; half demerit
6. Tidy up the junk – unsatisfactory job, Prisoner 4075; one demerit
7. Cut back the bushes – What were you thinking? If you’ve killed my bushes… Two demerits!
8. Clean the downstairs windows – they are a disgrace, Prisoner 4075; one demerit
9. Tidy up the tool shed – not started; one demerit earned
10. Clean the back step – job completed; no punishment required

I was disappointed, but I knew she was right; I had made a mess of the yard (and myself). I knew I’d been too enthusiastic with the bushes; they would probably never flower again. Well I’ve never had a garden before, how am I supposed to know?

Andreabound does Hard Labor – Saturday Night

Sara marched me back into the house and made me kneel in my spot in the hallway while she stood in front of me making more notes on her list.

“Prisoner 4075. You have earned seven and a half demerits. You are a disgrace to your work party and will be punished severely.” She announced. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry I let you down, Ma’am” I said, eyes cast to the floor. “Please be merciful with me”

“We’ll see about that” she said. “Let’s see what your incompetence and laziness has brought you.”

“There will certainly be no food for you tonight” She continued. I groaned inwardly at that.

“For your dinner, you will eat me instead. After dinner you will receive a spanking and three lashes of the whip. Tomorrow there will be kitchen and bathroom duty; followed by a further six lashes and you will spend the afternoon lashed to the post. In addition, you will be wearing your gag tonight; for speaking out of turn and daring to ask for mercy when you know you deserve to be punished.”

The punishments seemed harsh; I hadn’t finished the tasks set out for me, but I had worked really hard all day, and I was exhausted as a result. The prospect of no dinner bothered me the most and I was tempted ask for clemency again. I refrained, however, having already earned an extra punishment for my previous attempt.

“I’m hungry now. Supervising such a lazy slut is hard work and I’ve worked up an appetite. Get into the kitchen and make my dinner. Now!” Sara commanded, pushing me with the toe of her boot to make the point.

I was surprised at this. I had expected her to allow me to get cleaned up and at least get changed out of my filthy clothes but it seems like she was in too much a hurry for her dinner to allow for such niceties.

Dinner was a torture. I had to cook a full meal for Sara, still wearing my restraints of course and trying not to drop mud into her meal as I prepared it. I was tempted to slip some food but my warder watched me like a hawk even while pretending disinterest in my labors. I stood meekly by while she ate; making sure to savor every bite and teasing me the whole time with the fact that I would be going to bed hungry once again.

After dinner, she pushed her chair back and indicated that I should lie across her lap. I had never done this before, and wasn’t sure I wanted to start now, but I guessed the penalty for refusal would result in worse punishments so I reluctantly knelt on the floor at her side and lowered my body so my behind was presented to her.

Sara grabbed a handful of my hair with one hand and, with the other, pulled my skirt over my hips and laid it across my back.

Suddenly, I felt the sting of her hand on my bare bottom and I cried out in pain. “Don’t be such a baby.” She said, “This is nothing”. Fine for her to say, I thought. I have fantasized many times about receiving a whipping or worse but the reality of course is far different. My brain told me a simple spanking shouldn’t hurt much; my bottom was telling a different story.

I received a further five smacks before Sara was satisfied and by that time I admit I was crying like a baby. I had inevitably tried to shield my stinging bottom with my hands but Sara had simply slapped them out of the way. Now my fingers were stinging too, where she had caught them with one of her rings.

She pulled me to my feet and led me upstairs to the mirror. I undid my skirt and it fell to the floor. Sara bent down and removed the ropes holding my knees captive and released the chain between my ankle cuffs. Now I could twist about in front of the mirror and see that my bottom was a wonderful shade of scarlet. There was even a fading hand mark on one cheek. Now the initial sting had gone, I could feel a warm sensation in my bottom that wasn’t at all unpleasant. Maybe there was something in this spanking business after all.

Maybe that was why I didn’t resist when Sara unlocked my cuffs from my waist so she could remove my top, rope harness and waist chain and led me back downstairs to the basement.

I was then stretched out between the two support posts using ropes she had attached to each of my cuffs. Once bound like this Sara came towards me with my bit-gag. She said “you’ll appreciate this, trust me”. So I accepted the gag between my lips and held my head down so she could fasten the strap behind my head.

Sara walked around me making sure I was secure and then brought out her implement of punishment. It was a classic whip but it was fairly short and therefore didn’t look too fearsome to me. How naive I was, that first time!

The warming afterglow of the spanking had led me to believe that the afterglow of a proper whipping would be even more sensual and therefore worth enduring the pain of getting there. In addition, the actual pain of the spanking itself had faded somewhat in my memory so I wasn’t prepared as the first line of searing pain landed on my lower back.

I screamed into the gag; wanting to use the safe-word for the first time in the weekend. Unfortunately, I was in such agony, and my scream had left me gasping for breath round the gag, that I was too senseless to use the safe-word before the second stroke landed precisely on top of the first. I really thought I was going to faint then, with the pain; all recollection of the safe-word gone from my mind at this point. I managed to steel myself for the third and hopefully final stroke but my tension only added to the pain of the lash. I’ve learned since, it is far better to relax my body to minimize the effects of the blows.

Sara was true to her word and released me after the three stokes of the lash. I collapsed in her arms and she was suddenly all caring and tender. I think she hadn’t realized how hard this was going to be for me. I guess, looking back, my stories may have given her the impression I was more familiar with pain than I really was. I was a whip virgin and this was really my first time on the wrong (or any for that matter) end of a whip. I was seriously regretting allowing myself to be talked into trying it.

If I was expecting a payback for the pain I had suffered, I had forgotten the universal law of diminishing returns. The afterglow was not even as sensual as the spanking. By rights, it ought to have been better, instead I just hurt; bad.

Once Sara had satisfied herself I was ok, she stopped stoking my hair and sat me up. “I need some water” I said. So she went away to fetch me something to drink, leaving me sitting on the cold basement floor mulling over my recent experience. By the time Sara returned I was feeling myself again and, like before, the memory of the pain was fading rapidly.

“Are you ok to continue?” Sara asked of me. To which I nodded slowly. I was ready and, despite the exertions of the day, the gnawing hunger and the fading sting of my punishments, was looking forward to another night in the cell. Go figure!

“Time to get you ready then” she said. And with that connected my wrist cuffs together behind my back with a large padlock she must have fetched on her errand to bring me the water. Sara was all business again; I was having trouble keeping up with her rapid changes in mood. The hood was next and this time she laced it up even tighter. Standing me up, Sara put on my chastity-belt, locking on the waist band but leaving the leather flap hanging down between my legs for now. Then she marched me unceremoniously into my cell where I was made to use the toilet.

Sara pushed me onto my back on the narrow bed and proceeded to lock my ankles to the corners of the bed frame; not a difficult task given the lack of mattress. Another padlock connected the hood’s collar to one of the bedsprings too.

Luckily, as I lay down on the bed I had bent my arms behind me so they were not too bad to lie on. This was a good job as otherwise it would have been difficult to bear the sudden weight as Sara straddled my upper body. She sat down on my breasts, squashing them flat and reaching forward clipped on the padded blindfold. I was in darkness again and I knew I would be spending the night like this.

Once the blindfold was secured, I felt Sara shuffle forward up my body until I could smell her pussy hovering an inch or less above my lips. “Now, you know what to do, don’t you?” She said. I did, but I wasn’t sure that I wanted to do this. Perhaps this was another area where Sara had misinterpreted my fantasies.

Sensing my reluctance, Sara had planned an incentive. She shifted her weight, sitting down on my neck and I suddenly felt the bite of a nipple clamp closing on my left nipple. She had reached behind her and was adding clover clamps to my bondage. Ouch; I was far gentler when I did this to myself. Sara wasn’t so careful where she placed the clamps and they bit mercilessly. She realized I still needed some convincing so she reached behind her again and gave the connecting chain of the clamps a slight tug. With her still sitting on my neck, I couldn’t rise up to lessen the pain and I cried out.

“I can do this all night if you want, Andrea” She said. “Your choice; start licking or I’m going to keep pulling. Maybe you’ll get lucky and the clamps will come off eventually. But I doubt it”

“Ok, ok, but I can’t breathe” I managed to gasp out; Sara had been sitting on my neck for a while now. She lifted up again only to lower herself onto my mouth. The tugging continued; spurring my tongue into action.

It seemed to take ages before Sara started to respond to my efforts and I felt her hips slowly gyrate. I had never done anything like this before. Never even kissed another woman before; never mind tried to lick her pussy into orgasm while tied down to a bed. It all comes natural in the end though, doesn’t it? And so eventually, I heard moans of pleasure and Sara started to writhe above me. Of course this just made my job more difficult, and every time she lifted off me, I was unable to reach her pussy as my neck was fastened to the bed. And each time she sat back down again, I felt like my head was going to be pushed through the bed frame.

Finally I felt a shudder go through her and she let out a long, low scream of pleasure.

After a minute she quietened down and stepped off me. “That was good” she said. “Your reward”. I felt the water bottle press against my lips and I drank greedily. As the bottle was pulled away, it was replaced by the ring-gag. I really didn’t want to wear this all night again but I knew if I opened my mouth to complain the gag would be forced in. I gritted my teeth and growled my annoyance. Sara just gave my nipple chain a pull and as gasped with the pain, easily pressed the gag into place. I was cross and mmpphhed as best I could through the gag but she was having none of it.

“Behave yourself” she ordered and slapped my breast. I shook my head in defiance; but this just earned me more slaps. “You still don’t get it do you?” Sara said, sounding annoyed herself, now. “Maybe I’ll leave the clamps on all night and that will help you understand who is calling the shots here”. At this I thrashed about futilely. There was no way I was going to let her leave those clamps on all night. Then it finally dawned on me; I really didn’t have a say in this. I was her prisoner. I had chosen to give control over to another person and this was the consequence. I lay there absorbing this revelation – finally beginning to comprehend the nature of real submission.

“That’s better” Sara said and I heard her leave the cell and lock the door behind her.

And so I spent another night tightly bound, gagged and blindfolded in my cell. I had plenty to think about and ran over in my mind the events of the day and the hidden meanings in all the conversations and power-play that has resulted. I really wanted to think this through overnight but, despite the hunger and the pain of lying on my whip marks and the way my simple bondage prevented me from shifting my position, the exertions of the day’s chores overcame me and I fell into a deep sleep.

Andreabound does Hard Labor – Sunday Morning

“Wake up, sleepy head” were the words Sara used to rouse me in the morning. I tried to sit up of course, but found my head raised less than an inch before the padlock at my neck pulled me back down. My arms had gone numb during the night and my mouth was dry from wearing the gag all night again. But most of all I needed to pee; badly.

I tried to convey this to my captor and eventually she got my meaning.

“Ok” she said “but there’s something I have to do first.” I felt the air move over me as she reached towards me and suddenly I felt the most excruciating pain stab through my nipple. She had removed one the clamps. I had all but forgotten about them, the pain of wearing the clamps having faded during my sleep.

While I bucked against the restraints holding me to the bed and tried in vain to bring my arms round to my front, Sara quickly removed the other clamp. The pain was doubled and I hadn’t thought that was possible. I screamed unintelligibly around my gag and nearly pulled the bed apart with my thrashings.

At last the pain subsided and I realized I no longer needed to pee. To my complete embarrassment I felt a wet patch all down the back of one thigh where I had let my bladder go during my thrashing about. “Oh dear”. Is all that Sara could find to say. I could tell she was just about managing to hold in a laugh. That just made me feel even worse.

Sara straddled my abused breasts and reached forward to pull the gag from my mouth. After giving me a moment to work my jaw back into life, she pressed the water bottle to my lips. I found it hard to drink so she helped by giving the bottle a squeeze. Then the blindfold was removed and I blinked at the sudden brightness. The bulkhead lights in the ceiling were on full blast and shining directly into my eyes. I couldn’t see anything and realized how effective the blindfold must be to have provided complete darkness in such a bright room.

Sara leant forward shielding me from the lights a little and wiped away the sweat from my eyes. “Morning sweetie” she said cheerfully, “Ready for some breakfast?” I suddenly realized just how hungry I was. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning and even then it been just a few scraps. The night before that, I had saved myself for a delicious evening meal; only to be denied it. Even in my wildest dieting moments, I hadn’t eaten such little food. Yes, I was ready for breakfast!

“Eat up then, little one” Sara said, moving her pussy over my lips. Oh no, not again I groaned inwardly.

I heard a tinkling sound and I looked up to see Sara waving the nipple clamps above my head. The implication was clear, and I didn’t need another warning, so I set to ‘eating’ my breakfast.

As Sara pulled back, having made even more noise than the night before, I saw she was wearing the very same French maid’s outfit that I had worn the previous morning. I couldn’t make this girl out, she was so unpredictable. Sara then took to licking my nipples and breasts which felt great after the abuse they had suffered from the clamps. After a while she moved further down licking my stomach and then she loosened the flap of my chastity-belt and, after wiping away the evidence of my earlier accident, went to work on my pussy. It only took seconds before I felt the oncoming runaway-train of an orgasm about to overwhelm me but just as I was about to boil over Sara stopped and bit down hard on my pussy lips. The pain itself almost sent me over the edge but the devious Sara had timed it too well again, and so I was still denied any sexual release. Two days and counting! Arrggh!

She lifted herself off me and stood up next to the bed. “We haven’t got time for all this messing around” she said, a little too cheerfully. “Lot’s to do today. Don’t go anywhere!”

“Wait” I managed to get out before she reached the door. “My arms have gone to sleep. Please let me go”

Sara was having fun but she was also a sensible girl and knew my safety came before play so she lifted my body up and reaching behind me, released the padlock holding my wrists together. As she left the room, I was able to pull my arms from behind my back and started rubbing life back into them. Although my arms were now free I was still held to the bed at ankle and neck so I wasn’t going anywhere soon. I laid my arms at my side, just grateful to be able to straighten them and awaited Sara’s return.

She returned soon enough, carrying a bucket. Putting the bucket on the floor she came over to me and unlocked my neck so she could remove the hood.

I must have looked a mess. I hadn’t bathed since the hot, sweaty work detail in the yard the afternoon before and the dirt was now ingrained in my skin, punctuated by streaks of white where rivulets of sweat had made their way to the floor. My hair was plastered to my head and the light makeup I had applied as part of the maid costume the previous morning must have dried and caked-on by now.

Sara had a cure for all this as I felt the bucket of ice cold water slosh over me. The cold took my breath away and I’m sure I felt a few ice cubes strike my face as she emptied the rest of the bucket over my head.

“Wipe yourself down” she said, throwing a wash cloth at me. I was grateful for the small amount of warmth the cloth provided as I used it to clean myself up. I looked in vain for a towel but Sara just said “Stay wet and cool. It’ll help wake you up”.

My hands and neck were free but I was still held to the bed by the cuffs on my ankles. Sara knew therefore that I wasn’t going to give her any problems when she insisted I held out my arms for her to attach my wrist cuffs back together with the padlock she had in her hand. At least my hands were cuffed in front of me this time.

She added a short chain between my ankle cuffs before releasing them from the bed-frame and allowing me to stand up. I was weak from my imposed position overnight and my joints ached and muscles were stiff from the gardening duties of yesterday afternoon. Sara helped me walk towards the kitchen until I got my strength back and was able to make my own way there.

Once in the kitchen, I was instructed to make her breakfast. Again she made the most of my imposed fast by insisting I fry up bacon and eggs and sausage; all food that made the most delicious and teasing smells. At least the kitchen was warm and I soon dried off, working away at the cooker and later doing the dishes. It was hard work with my wrists bound so closely together. I guess Sara must have thought I’d had it too easy the day before because, whenever I flagged slightly, she would swat me with the crop she had in her hand.

Breakfast over; we retreated upstairs where I stood mutely while Sara slipped out of her maid’s attire. She took the discarded costume and beckoning for me to follow, opened the door to the guest room and threw it in. “Go in there and put it on and then go to your spot.” she instructed, closing the door behind her and leaving me to comply.

Of course I couldn’t get the costume on with my cuffs joined at the wrist. I managed to slip the stockings past the ankle cuffs and fasten on the garter belt but the dress I could only pull on as far as my waist. There was no way I could work out how to slip my arms into the sleeves. So I left it at my waist, tied the apron, fixed my makeup and stuck the cap on my head. There was nothing else to do. I considered disturbing Sara to point out my problems but thought better of it and, grabbing the unused bra, just went half-dressed down to the hallway to await her appearance.

When Sara arrived, slinking down the stairs wearing my best evening gown and heels, she did a double take. It was obvious she hadn’t given a thought to how I was supposed to get dressed while bound. She repressed a giggle and then took on a serious tone. “I thought I’d made it clear what would happen if you didn’t follow my instructions” she said. I opened my mouth to argue but just closed it again. What the hell; I wanted to be punished anyway, didn’t I. Wasn’t that the point of the whole weekend? So I said nothing; content with just giving her a cheeky look.

She took my hands and unlocked the cuffs. “Put it on, quick” she said, holding the bra out for me. I slipped my arms into the bra and then finished putting the dress on. Sara came behind me and grabbing my wrists pulled my arms behind my back and reconnected the cuffs.

“Stand” she demanded, and once I was on my feet, reached down and released the chain from one of the ankle cuffs long enough to slip on a pair of my silk panties. Whatever! I thought.

Opening the purse (my purse) slung over one shoulder she pulled out a cigarette and lit it. I didn’t know Sara smoked; this girl was full of surprises. I wasn’t happy about her smoking in my house but didn’t say anything. She stared at me for a while as if waiting for my response and, happy that I kept quiet, her expression slowly changed. I felt as if I had passed some sort of test even if I didn’t know what the test was about.

“Kitchen” was all she said. I knew what was required of me and meekly made my way through the kitchen door and knelt on the hard, cold stone floor.

I waited for Sara to enter behind me and then I bent down to the floor and started licking. I really couldn’t believe this; here I was, licking clean my own kitchen floor while wearing a stupid costume at the behest of an almost total stranger. But something in me was stirring; the very thought of the bizarre situation and the fact that I had given my will to this extraordinary girl was making me feel so warm somewhere deep inside. Right now I realized I would do almost anything to please her. Why was that? I’m a normal enough person in real life. I had a responsible job that I really enjoyed; I owned my on house and was perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Why did I have this sudden need to be dominated? And by a woman? I had plenty of time to consider these ideas as I worked my way slowly across the kitchen floor, stopping only occasionally to get a drink of water.

By the time I had finished and looked up, Sara was positively beaming at me. “Good girl” she said, as if I were some dog that had just performed a trick for her mistress. I realized with a start, that wasn’t actually too far from the truth.

“Bathroom next” she said. When we reached there, Sara removed the padlocks holding my wrists together and rebound them at the front again. She made me put my leg up on the side of the bath so she wouldn’t have to bend down to release my ankle chain. My panties came off. What was that all about, I wondered?

Sara looked at the panties in her hand and could see they were soaked through with my juices. I had obviously got myself quite worked up cleaning the kitchen floor. “My, my” she said and approached me holding the panties. “Open wide” Without a second thought I opened my mouth and she stuffed the panties in.

From her purse, Sara produced a roll of electrical tape and used it to secure the panties firmly in my mouth. Then she gave me my own toothbrush and pointed to the toilet.

Using just the toothbrush and with the added handicap of having my wrists held together, it took me the rest of the morning to clean the bathroom to her satisfaction. When I was done it was obviously lunchtime and Sara took me once again down to the kitchen.

This time Sara made me prepare two meals. Not before time, my stomach was regularly rumbling by now and I was desperate for food. I placed the plates on the table and she motioned for me to sit next to her. I reached up to pull the gag out to eat but a swipe from the ever present riding crop changed my mind. How was I supposed to eat with my mouth stuffed? Apparently, I wasn’t; this was just another of Sara’s tortures. Perhaps it was a good thing I was gagged or I would have called her a few choice names right then.

Andreabound does Hard Labor – Sunday Afternoon

Once Sara had her fill, she retrieved the now rather crumpled list from her purse.  “Let’s see what’s left on our list, shall we” she said brightly.

“Ah, only six lashes left from yesterday, plus an afternoon to be spent tied to the post” she said. “Mind there’s more to add to the list for today’s misdemeanors.

“First, not getting dressed properly. Since you left your breasts exposed, it would seem appropriate to punish them” she said, writing on the paper on the table in front of her. “Hm, I could do that while you’re tied to the post, if you’d like” Yeah right, like I had any say in the matter.

“Next, going to bed dirty and, not washing your clothes after working in the yard. Do you realize how much mud you brought into my nice clean kitchen?” she said. “There’s only one cure for dirty girls like you. They need to be shown the whip. Six more lashes for you”. Sara added altered the number next to ‘lashes’ on her list.

“Oh, and we mustn’t forget peeing all over my floor. Disgusting girl!” I’m sure a smile escaped her lips while she said this but she recovered well and, keeping a straight face, wrote on the list ‘corset!’ I’ll make a proper lady of you yet, Andrea” she said, showing me what she had written.

“Right, lunchtime is over. I’m surprised at you, though; I thought you would be hungry by now. Shame all that food went to waste. Never mind, get upstairs and get out of those clothes.” With that, Sara picked up the untouched plate in front of me and scraped the food into the garbage.

I hung my head in defeat and retreated upstairs. I wasn’t going to eat until Sara wished it. Well so be it; I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of making me beg for a meal. We’ll see who’s the tougher of us, I thought as I removed the costume.

Damn! I still had the same problem I couldn’t remove the dress or bra with my hands cuffed together. Sara must have known that this time and was obviously playing with my head again. Bitch!

And so Sara eventually came into the guest room carrying a bundle under her arm to find me sitting still half-dressed on the edge of the bed.

“You’re looking for punishments, aren’t you?” she chided. “Well, fine. Another six lashes. If that’s want you want, you can have it!” With this, she unlocked all my cuffs and stood watching as I finished getting undressed.

Sara pulled a corset from her bundle. I didn’t recognize it, it wasn’t one of mine. Something else she must have brought with her. How did she fit all this stuff into one overnight bag, I wondered? I remembered back to a film I saw when I was young; Mary Poppins. There’s a scene where she pulls all sorts of unlikely items from her small carpet bag. I giggled at the memory, imagining Sara as Mary Poppins, Wearing that funny hat and coming down to earth on an umbrella.

“You think this is funny, huh?” Sara snapped, suddenly all serious again. “Well, you won’t once I get you downstairs. I was going to go gentle on your breasts after making you wear those clamps all night, but I see you need to learn to take your punishments seriously.”

“No, it was just that I was…” I began. “Silence!” she roared. Grief! Sara could be really intimidating when she wanted to be.

“Now stand up and brace yourself against the wall”. I did as she commanded and Sara fastened the corset loosely around my middle. Then she started to slowly tighten the laces. It took ages to get all of the slack out of the corset, but by the time she had finished, the corset was wrapped around my waist far tighter than I’d ever worn one before. My whole middle, from just below my breasts to just above my hipbone, was compressed and my ribs felt seriously constricted; I was having to take tiny breaths as any attempt to breathe deeply was foiled by the tightness of the corset.

Sara had found my one pair of six inch heels when going through my stuff and now she made me put these on. This wasn’t an easy task, as the corset made it almost impossible for me to bend over.

Shoes and corset in place, I was led back down to the basement where Sara backed me up to one of the support posts and used the hinged handcuffs to lock my hands behind it. She used rope to tie my ankles to the post, one on each side so I was forced to lean forward slightly. More rope went around the corset, constricting my waist even further and holding me tight against the post.

The hood was placed over my head once again, and a rope went through a ring at the top of the hood and was used to hold my head back against the post. Sara wasn’t finished with me yet and another rope wound round my neck and the post and she cinched this off, making it even more difficult for me to breathe. She checked I was alright before strapping on the penis gag and stepping back to look at her handiwork.

Realizing she could do even better, Sara moved behind me and slipped a rope around my elbows. This she pulled tight until my elbows were drawn together. The post was between my body and my arms making it impossible for her to get my elbows to actually touch; but she did her best, and I found my elbows tied tighter than they’d ever been before. With this and the other tight bondage I was in heaven; at last, I had been put in complete and strict, inescapable bondage.

Now Sara walked back in front of me and finally happy with her bondage, picked up a variety of whips and paddle to show me. She held each one up to my face and explained their different uses and how each one would feel. Then picking up the leather tawse, she put the other implements on a nearby chair and approached me. I noticed a change in her. There was a definite mean, and almost wild look, in her eyes and for the first time in the weekend I was genuinely scared. What if she got carried away? What if I couldn’t bear this; would she honor the safe-word?

“Well we have to discipline your breasts don’t we Andrea?” She said. “There’s not much to work with here is there? You might think I’m fat, but at least I’ve got boobs” she taunted, and immediately laid into my precious assets with the tawse.

One, two, three, four, slaps in quick succession; two on each breast. Ow! That hurt; I cried out through the gag wanting her to stop but not quite ready to use the safe-word. But Sara was just warming up. She slapped away at my breasts for minutes without a pause and I could feel them warming up beneath her blows. Every now and again she would find my still sensitive nipples with the end of the tawse and I would suddenly find myself trying to gasp in a lungful of air. This of course was impossible due to the corset and the fact I had to breathe though my nose. I found myself short of breath and I don’t think I could have made the safe-sound even if I wanted to.

Each new blow to my breasts made my body jerk around, as much as it could, given the stringent bondage. The worst blows were the ones to the undersides of my breasts. Slowly my breasts started to feel like they were on fire and I reached breaking point. I had never felt anything so intense before.

Sara realized I was reaching my limit and stopped the onslaught. She put the tawse on the chair and came over to me. Now she placed her hands on my breasts and gently kneaded them. I rolled my eyes and moaned; I’m not sure whether with pain or pleasure, I was so far gone.

After bending down and nipping each of my nipples between her teeth, Sara retreated to the chair and picked up the short whip she had used on me the night before. I groaned in terror; surely she wasn’t going to use this on my breasts too?

But she was. Sara’s hand went back and when she brought it forward again the whip whistled round and landed right across both breasts. I howled in pain from behind my gag; desperately fighting for air.

“One” she intoned.

Her hand went back again and shot forward a second time to land a blow on my left nipple. Shit! I nearly passed out with the pain.

“Two”

But Sara wasn’t finished by a long way. She had promised me twelve lashes and that’s what I got; every one on my breasts.

In my fantasies I’d imagined been whipped many times, but in my wildest dreams I’d never imagined how much such a whipping would really hurt. I was desperate for this to stop but in no way could I get myself together enough to make anything resembling a safe-sound. It was as much as I could do to draw breath between blows and any coherent thought about how to make it stop was driven from my mind.

When she finally stopped, I was certain I must be bleeding freely from my breasts. I was sure I could feel wetness there, mixed in with all the pain. I tried to look at my breasts but the ropes held my head firm and I couldn’t see that far down. I just slumped in my bonds and sobbed.

I couldn’t believe it when Sara swapped the whip for the riding crop and began to work it up and down my bare legs. I was almost beyond caring at this point.

The crop was different than the tawse or the whip; it was a much sharper pain. I was so glad Sara had given up tormenting my breasts that I forgot about making the safe-sound. By the time I came to my senses, she was done.

Sara came over to me kissed my gag and fastened my blindfold over my eyes. “Back in a while” she said and I heard the sounds of high-heels walking across the basement floor.

I don’t know how long I stood there. My breasts were still on fire (and I was sure they were cut and bleeding). My thighs stung from the application of the crop and my arms had long ago gone numb from the tight ropes digging into my elbows. My toes were sore too from standing in the heels so long. I’d never worn my six-inchers for more than fifteen minutes or so before. But Sara wasn’t to know that.

Andreabound does Hard Labor – Sunday Night

Despite the pain I must have dozed off, as I woke to the smell of cooking. After a while I heard the sounds of Sara approaching.

She removed my blindfold and I saw she had changed yet again into some more of my clothes. This time she had found my cat-suit and since it was my size, was bursting out of it in all the right places. She said “You’ve done well so far. You’ve lasted better than I thought you would. I really thought you would use the safe-word during that, but you didn’t so I gave you more and more. I’m really proud of you.”

Despite the pain I glowed with pride. Somehow it seemed the most important thing in the world to me right now to have this woman’s approval.

“So I’m going to offer you a choice and then it’s over” she continued. “I haven’t used the paddle yet and I so much wanted to try it out on you. Here’s the deal. I’m cooking dinner for us both and you can eat with me on one condition; that you let me paddle your bottom. Otherwise I’ll just put you in your cell for the night. What do you think?”

I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t want any more pain but I was so, so, hungry. This was a hard call and Sara knew it.

“Got to stir the pan” she said.  “I’ll be back in a minute to see what you decided”

By the time Sara got back a few minutes later, my mind was made up. I was fed up with pain but my stomach had won out. As soon as my gag was removed I let Sara know my decision.

“My beautiful, brave girl” she cooed and started to release my bonds.

Once I was freed from the post, my handcuffs were put back on and I was bent over the chair for my final spanking. The paddle wasn’t too bad but, then I reflected I might have felt differently about that only a couple of days ago. After the whipping of my breasts this was easily bearable. I received twenty swats to my bottom before Sara reasoned that I’d earned my dinner.

She took me upstairs, still handcuffed and sat me down on my newly spanked bottom at the table.

Now my ordeal was over, Sara was all gentle and caring. I had assumed the cat-suit meant she was ready for more action but it seemed like she just felt like wearing it.

With my hands cuffed behind me, Sara had to feed me dinner. She cut up my food into small chunks and used he fork to bring them one-by-one to my mouth. At one point she spilled some sauce on my breast and bent down to lick it off. She stayed down there longer than she needed to but I didn’t mind at all; It was fun being taken care of in this way.

After dinner Sara put her arm around me and asked “Andrea, I have one more favor to ask you. Can we have sex together?” I was a little taken aback. I hadn’t really thought about this. Certainly having such a sexy woman tie me up all weekend had been a really sensual experience but I still didn’t think of myself as gay. Not that I’m homophobic; each to his (or her) own I say. But I’d never really pictured myself having sex with another woman. Then again, we’d pretty much done it all together anyway with the licking and all that. This was different though. Before, I’d been restrained and, essentially, forced to service Sara. Now she was asking for my consent.

Of course I said yes. How could I not; so we retreated upstairs and Sara finally removed my handcuffs.

Now I know I’m going to disappoint you, but I’m not going to tell what happened. It’s private and I feel some things should stay that way. That might seem strange after all the imitate details I’ve already shared but this seems different somehow. Sorry.

All that remained after our love-making was for me to be returned to my cell for the night.  This time unrestrained, just locked in there with my laptop and told to write it all up. So I did, and was able to get enough sleep so I was ready for work on Monday morning.

I woke to find the key left just inside the cell door, and Sara gone.

She left a note and she’ll be back real soon.

Andreabound does Hard Labor – Footnote

Many people have written to me asking which parts of my stories are fact and which fiction. Well, I did leave out a few details to help the flow of the story. For instance, I had more water breaks than I indicated, I took a break Saturday morning to speak to my mom on the phone, and Sara came down to my cell a couple of times each night to check up on me. Apart from these discrepancies though, the story pretty much happened as it was written.

And Sara’s note? She took my spare keys, borrowed a few of my clothes (!) and will be back to visit on Tuesday…

23.05.07