TAUGHT A PAINFUL LESSON BY MISS ICENI
(A short story written by one of my clienst, based on his discipline session with me)
I always had fantasies about my next door neighbour Miss Iceni whom I would see in the passing and at the local housing association meetings. An attractive, mature woman who was always smartly dressed in business suits, and had an interesting array of underwear - I often saw her knickers, stockings and suspender belts on her washing line, as my back garden backed onto hers. Last week at the residents association meeting I found myself ogling Miss Iceni’s nylon clad crossed legs; she caught me and I averted my stare. At the end of the meeting she walked over and quietly asked (in fact instructed) me to attend her house at 1pm the following day to discuss some issues in private.
There was something in her voice and the way she looked at me which made me respond immediately “Yes ma’am”.
I had a sleepless night wondering what she wanted to speak to me about. Although she was a good 20 years older than me I still found her attractive and had started to fantasise about her nice legs and that underwear on her line. My mind was racing, even more so when I went to her door and she answered it wearing a vintage silk dressing gown, nylons and high heel shoes, and she was wearing bright red lipstick.
“Come in - you and I have some things to discuss”. I followed her into the lounge area, where she sat on the couch crossing her legs, revealing her stocking tops and fully-fashioned stockings. It was rather overwhelming for me: I was instantly aroused, had an erection and bulge in my jeans which she noticed, remarking, “When I am finished with you today that will have calmed down - How dare you have filthy thoughts about me! I’ve had my suspicions about you for a long time, and today I am going to teach you a painful lesson. Follow me through to my study”
I sheepishly followed her into the study ( like a lamb to the slaughter as I soon found out I was to be)
When I walked into the study I saw canes, paddles, birches, straps, an old school desk, some sort of wooden bench with securing straps and all sorts of corporal punishment literature on the book shelves, which made me start to wonder why she had asked me there and why she had all these implements. I had heard she was a former school headmistress but couldn’t understand why she had all this stuff in her house.
Miss Iceni told me to stand to attention in front of her desk while she sat down on her chair crossing her shapely legs ( I was getting more aroused and she knew it) and starting lecturing me, telling me I was to be punished for stealing her underwear, some of which she had spread out on her desk. The pile of silk and lace, frills and sheer fabric was so enticing. I wanted to pick it up and bury my face in it.
“If you do not submit to all my requests and take whatever punishment I mete out, I will tell everyone at the housing association what you have done. I will tell them all that you;re a pervert and a panty-thief.”. I denied stealing her underwear but admitted I did have sexual fantasies about her and her underwear and did masturbate thinking about her wearing it. Next thing she stood up, grabbed me by the ear as if I were a naughty little boy, and told me she had CCTV footage of me. She had evidence. I couldn’t wriggle out of it now but I kept feebly denying it was me. Eventually I agreed to accept whatever she decided was to be my punishment.
‘Stop bleating and whining. That’s enough’ she said, in her no-nonsense way that sent shivers down my spine. ‘I know you did it. Time to face the consequences.’
Miss Iceni said I was to be painfully punished for what I had done and had to undergo what she called aversion therapy for my fascination for women’s underwear. She said she would teach me to respect women and control my masturbatory thoughts and actions.
“ You are going to receive 6 hard strokes of the cane over your trousers then a hard hand tawsing before I start on you properly- now bend over the desk and brace yourself for 6 cold cane strokes”. I just did what she said, trembling as I waited fir the first stroke, and then it landed, causing excruciating pain, followed by another 5 whacks which she was administering with full force.
“ Stand up turn around, hold out your hands, look me in the eye while I tawse those filthy hands of yours those hands that keep touching yourself— 6 strokes on each hand. Now hold them out and thank me after each stroke”. She produced a heavy 2 tailed leather tawse and proceeded to lash my hands, insisting I keep looking her in eyes as she swing the tawse. Her eyes were clear and intense, she did not break my gaze, though I felt she was intent on breaking me. The pain was excruciating, with me doubling up after each stroke.
The prim and proper Miss Iceni seemed to be enjoying thrashing me and making me suffer. I’m sure I saw her lip curl as she tried to suppress a smile, while she watched me blowing on my hands and moaning with discomfort and pain.
12 strokes and my hands were on fire, and bruised. I was shaking.
“Now your punishment will start properly and it will be on your bare bottom. You are going to be totally broken and under my control”
She then started to unbuckle my trouser belt, instructed I took off all my clothes with the exception of my underpants, I tried to protest but had no option as I had agreed to accept everything she decided to do. I stood meekly as she undressed me terrified my hard-on would offend her.
Standing there in my underpants in front of the alluring Miss Iceni in her dressing gown and nylons was just too much for me - despite my stinging bottom and hands I was still aroused and had an erection which she started to mock saying “she would beat that out of me”.
Miss Iceni pulled down my underpants, hauled me over her knee like a naughty schoolboy and whacked me countless times with one of her slippers, then pushed me off her knee to lie on the floor at her feet. The thrashing continued with her using a think leather paddle. I was gasping and making noises but was determined not to let her see she had broken me. All I could see were the toes of her shiny shoes, and her finely-tuned ankles in their nylons.
“Bend over that school desk and look at my underwear on the desk whilst I thrash you with this (she produced a black gymshoe). After each swat count, and you will apologise for stealing my underwear and nylons”
It was like being back at school being slippered but definitely much more painful- she certainly knew how to inflict pain.
“ The final part of your punishment will be over that wooden whipping bench, I’m not going to secure you as I want to see you writhing in pain”.
Thereafter she administered countless slow methodical strokes of several canes before using a heavy prison strap. The way she positioned the bench with a mirror in front meant I could see her stance and her legs as she ceremoniously beat me.
It stopped and I had a sense of giddy relief, thinking that it was finally over - but more was to come.
“The punishment part of your sentence is finished, however we will now continue with your correction and therapy to cure your perverted obsessions’
What was coming next? - I was so far gone by this time that I just did as she instructed.
“You will be punished in the humiliating wheel barrow position with your face on the floor at my nylons and shoes because you need to associate nylons and your dirty urges with pain.”
Miss Iceni positioned herself on the sofa and she manoeuvred me into position with my legs straddling her thighs, my face at her feet and my bottom in the air. It was so humiliating and very painful as she started to slipper me.
This seemed to go on for ages with Miss Iceni telling me I was a horrible pervert who needed to control my urges - she seemed to have done research on masturbation control and cure therapies dating back centuries. I don’t recall everything she said but I heard her mention ‘mustard poultices’ and ‘anti-onanism mittens’ and even ‘bromide in your tea.’ By this point all I could focus on was the humiliation of my bottom being exposed in front of her, the pain of the slipper as it rose and fell, the feel of her lovely legs beneath me, the nylon of her stocking rubbing against me, and the sight pf her shoes and ankles by my face.
I was broken, and I promised her that yes, whatever she said, I would attend her office for future aversion therapy and wouldn’t masturbate again.
“Follow me through to the lounge I am going to finish by beating you with a wooden hairbrush. I’m going to enjoy this very much.”
I followed her to the lounge and endured another over the knee spanking with a wooden hairbrush. There were no slow, controlled strokes, she battered my poor bottom with hard, rapid strokes until I was broken and started crying, begging her to stop, which she eventually did.
She ordered me to get my clothes on and make a promise to not ogle women’s legs. She also told me I was to keep a record of my masturbation thoughts, with the instructions for me to report back to her in a month for continuation and assessment.
She finished by explaining to me,
‘Now, you and I are going down to the local Post Office right away, and you are going to select an exercise book and a pen, a ‘Masturbation Journal’, and I’m going to watch you go up to the counter and explain to the cashier what you will be using this notebook for. Then you will record in this book every time you have the urge to abuse yourself. You will record the trigger, what you were thinking about, how it made you feel, what were your fantasies and how long it took you.’
Blushing fro head to toe, I stammered,
‘But- but does this mean I can’t do it at all?’
‘Oh yes, of course you can, twice a week. I think that’s sufficient for a grown man. But you will message me and ask me for permission first.Every time. And you will keep an accurate record in your journal. Do I make myself clear?’
Oh yes, Miss Iceni, perfectly clear. I was burning with shame, and a strange kind of excitement at the same time. Suffice to say I will do as she has instructed, and I will try and refrain from such perverse behaviour. But when the urge does run away with me, she will have total control, and the ability to humiliate and punish me further.
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