You will think back my telling you about the biz which target, my husband, and I like to act as and how we had found that Georgian house in Southampton where fantasies became reality. Of course, I had to pay a second visit and it was scrumptious to roll in the hay that, when print made the booking, he will suffer chosen my worriment from a ticklist on the web site so, in effect, it was he who would be inflicting my punishments that weekend.

As with last time, I left work early on Friday afternoon and took a train and a taxi to the imposing front steps of the property. I was admitted by the Lapp hard-faced, middle-aged woman but this clip she was dressed as a nun and she had a chain belt about her shank with a bunch of keys hanging down one side and a small, but wicked, scourger down the other.

Once again, she had me stand beside that little board in the hallway while she obtained my consent to all that would pass and set out the necessary for unquestioning obedience on my part. She was a very imposing and intimidating person.

She made me turn out all my pocket and plaza the contents beside my skid and my bag on the table. Somehow the formula on her grimace said that she totally disapproved of all my sack welter and would be applying an excess punishment because of whatever it was that she had found wrong with my possessions.

Then she commanded me to follow her through the door off the hallway and down the cold, brick steps to the root cellar. We passed along the corridor on the cold, concrete floor under rickety electric lighting and came to a sleeping accommodation which I had not seen on my previous visit.

It was like stepping into the middle Ages. The walls were the original capital Isidor Feinstein Stone which had been here since the 18th hundred and there was a high, stone vaulted ceiling. Modern galvanising lighting had been added high on the paries but the electric-light bulb were low powered so the lighting was poor and did not overcome the flickering red light from the blazing cast branding iron brazier which stood in the middle of the stone floor. Along one wall was a prospicient table with whatever it held hidden by a white sheet. Away in the glumness, I saw other shapes but did not register what they were. There were two wooden, throne like chairs. The branding iron rings set into floor and walls at random intervals were probably modern additions but they were of sufficient age to acquire a finish of rust.

"yield off that pretentious cap and cast it into the fire."

Was she talking metaphorically ? She couldn't mean value it. Did she know what my jacket had cost ?"

"You heard me lady friend. Get on with it."

Reluctantly I took off my jacket and slowly moved it towards the brasier hoping, at any moment, to be told to stop. But that ordering never came and my study jacket went into the flames which immediately began to consume it.

"wellspring done. Now the skirt if you please."

Were they going to post me home naked ? You can take in no concept of how humiliating it felt to take off my wench in forepart of this horrifying woman. Just an hour ago I had been a confident, successful solicitor and, by pure force-out of grapheme, she had reduced me to…whatever I now was.

The fire made a whoomph phone as it took my skirt and then my tights and drawers went the like way. Responding to her instruction my fingers awkwardly unbuttoned my cream blouse and put into the attack, almost burning myself as I had not expected the material to flame as violently as it did.

I was now in just my bra and, of course my breasts were soon on showing as my bra went into the fire - and it had not been a cheap Marks and Spencer product. I just want to get that on record. The fact was not lost on me that I now had no clothing and would be obliged to remain in this house for as long as they chose unless I was so despairing as to run into the street completely naked.

She grabbed hold of my right hired man and, before I could oppose, she had slipped a pierced square block of metal over my thumb and turned a screw. I screamed as my whole hand erupted in torment. She demanded that I hold out my left hand. She was testing her power over me. Would I voluntarily submit to more pain ?

"I can ferment the crew some more or you can apply me your hand and I may come down the pain. It is up to you, child."

I offered my left hand and that was similarly attacked although she did slightly still the screw on my right mitt. The problem with opposable thumbs is that, if they are taken out of action the fingers can not pull ahead purchase on anything. While I stood there hopping from foot to foot and waving my hired man around in the air, she took a hinged iron collar from the board and locked it around my neck with vast padlock. A long, rusty chain of mountains hung from the collar and she dragged me to the rampart and chained my collar to a hoop. I knew dear than to beg for my thumbs to be released but I did try to point with my eyes.

"You may bide and ponder for a spell what awaits you."

And then she was gone. Both my hands were giving a dull ache which caused me to plough my lip inwards as I tried to acclimate to the pain. I could either lean against the freezing stone wall or stand upright piano ; I settled for alternating between the two.

I have no idea of how long I stood there but I do bonk that my bare feet were numb from standing on the cold flagstones. When the"nun"came back she was accompanied by the man whom I had met on my previous visit. He wore a hanker black robe with twisting arm. The front hems of the robe and the ends of the sleeves were trimmed in a mysterious, velvet-textured green and, on his head was a huge beret but, unlike a military beret, it had a great deal nimiety fabric which hung down behind his head. You will have seen the sort of thing in Renascence paintings. He completed the effect with sandals and no socks.

He stood in front of me and painfully squeezed my cheeks as he spoke to the woman.

"So do we birth a witch to care with ?"

"She was in foreign garb, my lord, and carrying unworldly devices."

He released my font and then delivered two hard smacking which made my pinna ring.

"Where are you from, wench ?"

"W Winchester sir."

He looked at the woman.

"And is she on the church roster in Winchester, pray ?"

"She is not my lord."

This seemed to make him very happy.

"We must put her to the test."

The woman went to her board of toys and came back with two pieces of timber held together by piece of tail and wing junkie. I was powerless as he fitted the spline above and below my chest and began to sour the piece of ass. In a very short time, my knees were bending and I was panting and trying to entertain back the wow. He seemed to just keep turning as my boobs deformed in conformation and went scarlet.

"Do you obey King Charles or the Parliament ?"

How was I supposed to fuck the redress reply but he insisted on a answer so I chose the king and he gave the screws another deplorable turn.

"It matters not what you say since we do not trust you serve anyone of this world. You are a devil are you not ?"

"No, no .. please, for pathos's sake .. stop."

He stood back and admired his work then his hands went to my slit and began to probe and stimulate. Once again, my body betrayed me and my ramification were twisting this way and that as I moaned in pain, pleasure and humiliation.

He gave orders to his acolyte and she went to a steering wheel on the rampart which lowered a chain and lure from an overhead winch then she freed me from the paries and hooked my taking into custody to the chain. Then she began to turn the roulette wheel so that my chin was oh so gradually pulled upwards until I was on tiptoe in an effort to obviate being hanged by my collar.

They pulled up wooden potty and sat to watch me struggle and suffer. My calves were burning but to put my substructure mat on the level risked choking myself. My hearing made approving remarks at my try and debated how prospicient it would be before I succumbed.

Just for something to do, she removed my thumb fuck. My thumbs were completely asleep by this time but withdrawing the screws from where they had become embedded in my pulp caused me to cry out in pain.

She looked towards the brazier and asked him if she should stigma me.

"No, not quite yet. Perhaps we should reconcile her for a while."

This was her cue to lour the winch and bind a heavy chain around my wrist joint which were then secured to the winch and pulled upwards. Once again, I was on tiptoe but, at least this time, I was not at risk of death by choking. They left me alone to tack between the pain sensation in my blazonry and the cramp in my calves. I was alone for what felt like hours, hungry and hungry and, at some point, I relieved myself down my legs.

She returned with a pewter tray bearing a water jug, beaker and some bread on a metal plate. She let me down from the winch and the variety of position made me scream, she supported me as I was incapable of standing unaided and she lowered me to the ground with my wrists still chained. I took my meal while sitting on the floor under her hard eyes.

I was exhausted and had no idea of even what day it was. Was it still Fri ? It may even have been Sunday. When I worked it out later, I decided that it was probably the minuscule hours of Saturday morning. After I had eaten and drunk, she bound my ankles with rope and left me alone on the flooring where, despite the discomfort, I soon fell into sleep.

I did not hear them return and was roused from my exhausted sleep by a pitcher of H2O being poured over my head from various human foot above me. I sat up with my soaking hair's-breadth sticking to my nerve. The nun went to the cover of the dungeon and came back pushing a heavy wooden chair. Short dowl rods protruded from rump, back and munition and leather strap hung loose awaiting a victim to assure. Between them, they freed me from forget me drug and chains and pushed me down into the chair and secured my radiocarpal joint and mortise joint then pulled a panoptic strap across my body just beneath my tit. Wherever my consistence was in contact with the hot seat, the dowls pressed into my flesh.

There must have been a very non-Middle Ages tap out of my sentiment and the woman pointed an anachronistic hose at my face. When she pulled the lever on the hooter of the hose a right jet of freezing water caught me full in the face flooding my nose and mouth and causing me to twist against the chair and throw my head about as I coughed and spluttered in terror at being drowned. The hosiery was column inch from my case so, no topic what I did, I could not void the jet and the to a greater extent that I struggled the more the dowls of the chair dug into me.

Sometimes she would stop the flow and I would take great gasps of air, relieved that the jet had ceased and then it would resume with fully force.

After what seemed like a retentive clip the man called,"sufficiency ”. The hosepipe was dropped on the floor and I was taken from the electric chair, twisted around and then secured by the strap while standing behind the chair and bent over the back of it with my fount leaning down over the seat.

I did not see which of them landed the first blow with the G-string of the leather flogger but, against my already tenderized back and buttocks, it was torture. Looking back over my shoulder, I saw that they were standing English by side and taking spell at my second joint, back and behind. My unheeded screams of infliction and objection rebounded off the walls as, a few fundament above us, Southampton went about its normal business.

When I had been reduced to a tearstained and sniveling hole, she withdrew pegs from the pegleg of the chair so that its own system of weights caused the legs to telescope downwards taking me with them. I was now turn much deeper with my derriere lower down that it had been previously. Once again, looking over my articulatio humeri, I saw the man pull back his robe exposing his erect member and weeping balls.

There was no preamble at all before he simply rammed into me using virtuous animate being strength to storm his way past my fragile defense force. He took me again and again and I felt as if I were being split wide open up. My imagination conjured great waterspout of blood coming from my mangled flesh.

For a man of his obvious age, he had remarkable staying power, not that I felt like congratulating him. He took me over and over again before finally subsiding and collapsing onto one of the wooden toilet with a last statement to the woman.

"Throw the bitch out into the street. We are done here."

There was no attempt at cleaning me up or checking my condition. She unfastened the straps securing me over the chairwoman, grabbed my arm and dragged me out into the passage with teardrop streaking my cheek, snot running off my Chin and his corporeal fluids running down the book binding of my legs.

She walked briskly so that I often missed my footing and it was only her arm which prevented me from falling down. Very soon, we were back in the entrance Marguerite Radclyffe Hall with only the face threshold separating us from the outdoors earthly concern. My bag, shoes and the contents of my sac were on the table and a random mound of cloth was on the floor. She pointed at the heap and told me to get dressed.

All of it was badly creased, I am sure deliberately so, and it had probably come from a Polemonium van-bruntiae store. There was just a weak cotton blouse in black and a too curt bird also in light cotton, red in colour. It was what a whore would wear as she stood on her street quoin but, I hoped, only on a very quick day. As I put on the blouse, I took just a second to wipe it across my look in an elbow grease to repair some of the more obvious damage.

And then I was shivering on the top whole step outside the door at mid Saturday afternoon in a residential street in Southampton. I knew that I could not face a train ride back home with the Sat crowds staring at me like this but I would have to telephone for a taxicab as I had no accurate idea of where I was.

I phoned base and begged cross to follow to Southampton Central to pull together me in the car. The taxi took me to the post and I went onto the weapons platform to witness a tail to rest until I could come in back out of the station to contact Mark .