Crime and Punishment

Judicial punishment is a scene I have long been keen on. Why? It has
all the elements I really like: dressing up in authoritarian costumes,
reading out the charge sheet against a wrongdoer and of course, the
best bit, doling out the punishments set out bu the ‘courts’.

A few days ago a slave came to me with a hankering to be judicially
punished. He was, he said, found guilty of stealing a pair of knickers
from a washing line. The court sentenced him to be tortured by two
leather-clad mistresses of pain. And so he came to my leathery lair.
The punishments were to be administered by myself and Mistress Serena.
We were both clad in tight-fitting leather cat suits which clung to
every curve, shape, muscle and rounded bits of our bodies.

The prisoner gave himself up to our judicial punishments at my
well-equipped dungeon. He was ordered to strip naked, bollock naked,
and stand to attention to await our orders. The guilty wretch was to
be severely beaten around his cock and balls and tormented for at
least 60 minutes.

“You know why you have been sent here,” I barked striding around his
body watching him trying not to look at my lithe limbs and shapely
torso wrapped in a tight casing of soft calf leather. I also
brandished a riding crop as did Mistress Serena who looked awesomely
dominant – all six foot of her – in her black leather top, pants and
wicked boots.

“Stealing ladies’ panties, sniffing them and no doubt wanking your
pathetic dick against their soft lace – isn’t that what you did,”
purred the feline Mistress Serena.

He nodded in guilty agreement.

“The court has ordered us to be severe with you – to show you no
leniency – you must be made an object lesson for others. Are you ready
for your punishment?|”

He bowed his head and uttered a quiet ‘I am ready madam’.

Mistress Serena then grabbed the slave by the neck and forced a
leather mask over his head. I tied a collar round his neck and we both
hung him from the punishment cross.

Mistress Serena and I got down to the nitty gritty of our court work –
punishing his pathetic cock and balls. We both slapped and punch him
hard into the very kernel of his nuts, each blow eliciting a mournful
cry of pain.

As my fellow punisher meted out yet more thwacks on his reddening
balls, I whispered sweet somethings in his ear: “You are a dirty
pervert and deserve all you get and more. We won’t be satisfied, and
neither will the court, until we hear you begging for the safe word.”

We lost count of the number of harsh blows that rained on his tattered
testicles. I enjoyed the freedom (given to me by the courts) to wack
his cock with the back of my hand while Mistress Serena gave his
sagging manhood some hearty kicks with her high heel boots. I added to
his discomfort by applying some stinging flicks with my trusty little
cock flogger. Ouch!

It was now time for the second part of the slave’s judicial
punishment: we laid him on the floor and secured his hands and feet
with leather mitts. We placed a mask over his eyes to deprive him of
sight and applied what I call ‘chopsticks’ to his balls. This is a
simple but effective little device literally like a pair of chopsticks
but connected at one end with a sliding pin. His balls were placed
between the chopsticks and the pin adjusted to tighten the wooden
needles around his tender bits.

Then we put him into inverted suspension – hoisted up like a Xmas
turkey. He was ours for the tormenting and just in the right position
to be spun around. As we did so, we made sure that his balls and cock
were hit hard.

We tightened the chopsticks to put extra pressure on his balls and I
couldn’t resist whispering a few words of Chinese into his ear.

Mistress Serena continued the Oriental theme with a savage kung fu
kick into his groin. She is the Bruce Lee of ball busters.

“Trussed up like that you look like meat in a butcher’s shop” I spat.

Mistress Serena had more tortures up her sleeve, or should I see, up
her thighs. She used her strong thighs to clamp his head in a vicious
scissor lock.

I don’t have time to go into all the details of what followed next:
smothering with our leather-clad arses, nipple torture, bum whipping,
ass fucking and perhaps his worst nighmare – an electric cattle prod
which found its way to his waiting arsehole and beaten up balls.

It was only when the two leather mistresses had had enough that the
court’s punishments were brought to an end. The miscreant was untied
and forced to wank himself into one of our dirtiest, ripest used

Urged on by the cattle prod, to cum on time, he duly did so and was
then ordered to lick the cum off our sweaty panties.

All this note, was for a first offence – imagine what we could do to a
repeat offender!


2013 in review

The stats helper monkeys prepared a 2013 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 22,000 times in 2013. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 8 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

WPC Paris gives the criminal a hard time.

I love wearing my new policewoman’s uniform and got to wear it in earnest last week. A slave  (new one) wanted to be overpowered, tormented and abused by a woman in blue so I was happy to oblige. I wore my tight little skirt with a crisp white, figure-hugging shirt, tie, police cap, badge and of course, a cruel set of real metal handcuffs dangling from my belt. A pair of sheer black stockings and heels completed the picture of WPC dominance.

My slave arrived shaking with fear or anticipation – maybe a bit of both. Anyway, he began badly – by apologising for being late. I coolly looked my overpowering best and ordered him into the police cells. He couldn’t take his eyes off those cuffs hanging from my slender waist.  I ordered him to stand while I sat down teasingly crossing my legs to show a glimpse of stocking top. I quietly but firmly ordered hm to undress.  He did so but left his boxers on.  I stood up and stared into his eyes – got closer and closer and when we were almost nose to nose, whispered in a cold, icy way, ‘Have you got something  to hide, worm?’ He gulped and shook his head. “No officer, nothing.”

I then barked out an order at top voice: ‘Take off those fucking shorts and do it now!’ He whimpered in fear and did as he was told. Then I ordered him to stand with his legs apart while I conducted a police check. I put on my rubber gloves and  gave his balls, cock and then arsehole a good inspection. 

I then ordered him on his knees and as he did so, grabbed one his arms round to his back and clicked on the cuffs. I roughly yanked the other arm round and locked his arms together. In a typically police brutal way,  I forced the cuffed prisoner on to his back and  promptly sat on his stomach. ‘Got you now you little  pathetic runt,’ I barked. ‘You are my prisoner and I can do exactly what I want to you.’ All he could do is bleat, ‘Please officer, I am innocent, do not hut me.’ That made me laugh and I slapped him round the chops. Then I put my mouth close to his – was I going to kiss him? That miserable law breaker? No, I was going to cover his face in my spit. And I did.

By now my prisoner was shaking like a jelly. I told him to confess to the crime: any crime. He was reluctant so I had to set about him with my truncheon. I beat him on the nipples and of  course gave his cock a good seeing to. After he screamed for me to stop (and used the safe word),  I decided to reward him by uncuffing his arms, and letting him worship my stockings, feet and arse. He made a good arse sniffer for a miserable criminal. But justice is all about being fair and balanced.  After his reward, I ordered hm to get dressed but as he did so, I had a change of heart. Had he  told me everything? Surely not. In a rage, I took him across my tight skirt and gave his arse a fierce spanking. He certainly felt the long arm, and strong hand, of the law.