Pleasure Dungeon I,II,III Package: Whipped into Submission, The Naughty Lady Gets a Spanking, Ginger and the Gadget in Her Rear

by John Rivers

  Once, Mr. Innis suggested that perhaps they should put two easy chairs about three feet or so apart and let me rest my long legs over the arms. That worked fine for a while, but somehow, they dropped the practice. I told them how Mr. Owens had built a spanking horse for me. I told how the front end was lower than the back and when I was on it, it was almost like standing on my head. My butt would be even higher above my head than when I was on my knees on the floor. Mr. Innis said he would like to see that. A few weeks later, he got Mr. Owens to let him watch at his shop so he could see what I was talking about.

  I think Mr. Innis was surprise at how long it took Mr. Owens to give my treatment. Mr. Owen explained that he had built the horse to give him better access to my bottom. He also felt that my temperature should rise a little from the spanking. This position made it easier for him to insert a thermometer into my rectum from time to time as he spanked me. He also spanked very slowly. Sometimes he would only swat me once and then stick the thermometer in my butt. There I would be with my ass stuck up in the air with a thermometer protruding from it. It was times like this that I would have really hated for his wife, or any other female, to see me.

  Of course, I knew the door was locked and I could relax. I don’t know what it is about relaxing while having someone take care of that area. Without fail, I would get wet. Just like Uncle John and Mr. Innis, Mr. Owen felt he should take care of this problem. Sometime after only one swat, he’d stick the thermometer up my butt and use the time it took the thermometer to have a read-out to check my pussy. He had one habit I’m sure Uncle John would not have approved of although it was an innocent little gesture on his part. After checking me, he patted my pussy in what I assumed was a loving manner. At first, he would only pat it a couple or three time, but it had felt so good I asked him to do it more. He was nice enough to do that. Then I’d really get wet.

  This had happened two or three time before I got the brilliant idea to ask him if he could spank my pussy, (of course, I didn’t say pussy, that might have given him the impression I was a naughty girl) instead of spanking my butt?

  Having just inserted the thermometer, he rested a hand on my upturned buttocks. “Ginger, I don’t mind spanking your vagina, but I’m not sure what John would say. I bet he takes a look at your butt after he gets home to see if I spanked it.”

  Almost on my head, I tried to look back. “Oh, I don’t mind having my butt spanked as well, but I really would like you to spank my vagina.”

  Mr. Owens agreed to spank my pussy as well as my butt. He has been spanking my pussy for a number of years now. Even after he stopped spanking my butt, he still inserted the thermometer. He hasn’t spanked my butt since I’ve been married. I have a feeling he’s afraid my husband might see. That’s fine because Uncle John no longer has the opportunity to check the condition of my ass the next day. If he doesn’t give me my therapy on a Saturday, he won’t see my butt, my butthole, my pussy or my breasts for a week.

  One reading this might think me totally naïve. I assure you I’m not. Well, maybe a little. Even at that age I knew what a penis was. I also knew men put their penis in various places. Accidently seeing something in a movie I had no business seeing, I saw one in a woman’s mouth. It was hard to believe at first, but from the looks of it, she was enjoying herself.

  One might wonder why I stray from my story about my innocent little sonic wave treatments and all the nice men who handle my therapy to something that might seem hardcore. I assure you it is not. I simply want to make a point. First, one needs to understand I felt somewhat guilty of having no input during my session while someone else was nice enough to take care of me. Sometimes I even feel guilty about having to subject them to my nudity or troubling them to spank me. Most of these men are completely unselfish and go to great length to make sure that I’m spanked, not only properly, but sufficiently. Sometimes, the lengthier spanking stung, but I realized they were good for me. That might have even helped my breasts to develop the way they have. My acne had totally cleared.

  I don’t think I have yet mentioned Mr. Johnson. Not long after my eighteenth birthday, I met Mr. Johnson. He was another unmarried man who was nice enough to administer my therapy in Uncle Johns absence. Mr. Johnson wasn’t as old as the others. He also had an extremely nice home. He said he thought it was silly for me to lie on a blanket on the floor when he could make me more comfortable on a bed. I had laughed and told him that my therapy had originate in my bedroom, but we had moved downstairs. I said if he liked the idea of the bedroom better, that would be no problem.

  Mr. Johnson had me to lie on one of the plushest bed I had ever seen. He arranged pillows under my legs so I would be more comfortable. I might mention that he was also a very handsome man. I was somewhat infatuated by him. He was also a good conversationalist. In fact, he was already inserting the probe into my rectum before I remembered he had not given me a spanking. I reminded him.

  Showing his nice teeth in a smile, he said there was no problem. He could do that after we were finished here. He pulled up a chair and sat so we could talk between my spread legs. It might seem strange, but he asked me about everyday things, like schools and such. He also asked me if I had any idea what the gadget did. I told him it emitted sonic waves, but I had no idea what sonic waves were. My uncle was the scientist.

  Before long, I was becoming wet. I told him how most people would take a tissue and dry me before it got too bad. He stood and went into the bathroom where I heard water running. He was back shortly with a wash cloth soaked in warm water. That felt good.

  As we talked, I told him about my trip to the place they called a dungeon. I told how in order to help me in my yoga, Uncle John had asked them to suspend me with ropes. I figured that was a good opportunity to show him how flexible I was. I proceed to put my feet behind my head and in a matter of minutes, my butt was almost pointed upward. Since that wasn’t the best position to carry on a conversation, I put my feet back on the bed.

  “Did you like being suspended, Ginger,” he asked. Not being familiar with the probe and knowing it couldn’t slip out even if it wanted, he took one hand and separated my buttocks and felt the probe. To ensure it was in place, he moved it around and around a few times. I wanted to tell him how good that felt, but I didn’t.

  “I think I would like being suspended now. At that time, I was a little afraid.”

  “Ginger, we’re almost finished here. You can leave off your clothes for me to spank you later, but first, I’d like to show you my playroom downstairs.”

  After he removed the probe from my rectum and bathed my pussy with the washcloth once more, he helped me to stand. Still holding my hand, he led me to a flight of descending steps that ended at what looked to be the biggest and plushest den I’ve ever seen. Once my eyes had adjusted to the dimmer light, I saw what he intended to show me.

  A third of this room was a very small dungeon or at least it had some of the fixtures one would find in a dungeon. There was one I recognize as something where someone might be spanked. I supposed there were other things that might also be done to them while they were straddle this bench. The second thing was primarily what he wanted to show me.

  Mounted to the ceiling was a pulley. From that pulley ran a chain with a bar. At the end of the bar were two large leather buckles. This was almost like the device from which they had suspended me in the dungeon. Mr. Johnson had his own mini-dungeon right here in his home. This looked like fun if he didn’t spank very hard. I supposed at the time I thought people were always spanked or flogged when they were suspended. I realize now that wasn’t always the case.

  “Is this anything like what they put you on at the dungeon.”

  “Yes, it is,” I affirmed, “your ceiling’s just not as high.”

  “Would you like to try this one?”

  “Are you going to spank me while I’m in air?”

  “What I thought about, Ginger, is letting you try this and the spanking bench and spank you a little on each o
ne. I had intended to just put you over my lap, but now I think I’ll do that along with these. Is that ok with you?”

  “Yes, sir. Of course, I hope you just use your hand. Gordon used a whip on me in the dungeon. Of course, he didn’t hit me very hard.”

  “I also have a few whips, but I didn’t intend to use them on you.”

  “What do you do with all these things, Mr. Johnson?” I waved a hand to indicate all the dungeon paraphernalia.

  “I have a few lady friends. Occasionally, one will drop by and we’ll play down here. In fact, if you’re ready, we can get started ourselves?”

  I lay on the floor while he placed my ankles inside the padded straps. This didn’t take long and shortly he was pulling the chain. Like before, it felt sort of strange not having any control over my body. Also, he stopped where I was positioned to still place my hands on the floor for support.

  Once I was situated to his satisfaction, he placed a hand on my hip to hold me in place while he swatted me a couple of time across my butt with his hand. Since I was now totally at his mercy, I feared he might change his mind and decide to use a whip. He didn’t. Rather than continuously spank me, he would give me a couple of swats and then rub my nether cheeks. He not only rubbed, but he kneaded them. I had had my cheeks kneaded before, but only a few times. Mr. Owen was probably the first to do so. As I mentioned before, he would often insert a rectal thermometer in me before my punishment. He never bothered to remove the implement while he attended my behind. Moving my buttocks about also moved the thermometer around in my butthole. It felt kind of strange. This time I didn’t have anything in my rectum and no one was lashing me with a whip of any size. Neither had I been forced to wear a gag.

  It might sound strange, but I was getting hot. With all my nerve-ending stimulated by the spanking and kneading, little tingling waves of excitement coursed through my groin. Lifting my hands and, letting the rope support my weight, I placed a hand to my clit and stroked it a few times. Since this was Mr. Johnson’s first time to give me a treatment, I was sort of reluctant for him to see me do so. Even when he had the probe in me, I refrained from even touching myself. Had this been one of the regular people, I might have brought myself to a climax before the gadget stopped. After all, Uncle John had said it was alright to do so.

  A few moments later Mr. Johnson did something I hadn’t been expecting, but something I greatly appreciated. Turning me around to face him, which placed my groin a little above his waist, the first thing he did was to spread my pussy very wide. I hated to think how wet I must be in that area, but Mr. Johnson didn’t seem to mind. After giving it a thorough examination, he slowly stroked my clit. At various times in the past, I have had all of this done to me, but Mr. Johnson did something no one had ever done. Separating the top of my labia, he touched my clit with the tip of his tongue. Had I stuck my finger in a light socket, I wouldn’t have felt the same electrical charge surge through my body.

  Before that wave could subside, he did it again. And again, and again. He did it until I reached the climax I might have reached earlier.

  Uncle John wouldn’t approve of this at all, but by then I had reached a level of maturity that I knew what Uncle didn’t know didn’t hurt Uncle John. I wasn’t about to go home and say, “Mr. Johnson went down on me. Of course, at that time I didn’t know what that term meant. I have since learned it quite well.

  Hanging from the ropes while quivering through the dying spasms of climax, I must have resembled a fish on the end of a line. Once I had run the course and my antics had ceased, Mr. Johnson eased me back down to the floor. Spent, I lay there for a while.

  “When we’re through here, Ginger, we’ll go to the jacuzzi.” He pointed to a sliding glass-door leading to a glassed-in area outside. I hadn’t noticed this before. Wow.

  He didn’t have to talk me into it. As soon as I was able to stand, I went to the spanking bench, straddled it and turned up my butt. I have to admit now that I was sated, the few swats I received didn’t do a lot for me. Once he told me to get up, I asked if he wanted me to lie across his lap. No, he said. We’d save that for later. Right now, we were going to the jacuzzi.

  Five minutes later, I was seated in the tub and letting a surging stream of extremely hot water flow over my naked body. I suppose I thought I would be the only one entering the tub. I figured if Mr. Johnson did join me, he would change into a pair of trunks. One can only imagine my surprise when he stood alongside a chaise lounge and begin removing his clothes and laying the garments over the chair. Shortly, he was as naked as myself.

  At that age, I hadn’t seen a lot of penises. I suppose had I given it any thought I would have realized logic said they came in different sizes. Mr. Johnson’s was what I would now consider long and slender. On the other hand, it was only partially erect. For all I knew it could suddenly grow to a monumental size.

  I suppose so not to startle me, he took a seat on the opposite side of the tub. He commented on the temperature of the water and other things until I had got over my initial shock. He then asked me, “Have you ever seen a penis before, Ginger?”

  “No, sir. Just pictures.”

  “Would you like to see it up close?”

  Not knowing what else to say, I nodded my head. “Yes, sir. I guess so.”

  Standing, he moved across the tub to stand before me. When he stopped, his privates were about level with my shoulder. For several seconds, he simple let me look. I forced myself to stop diverting my eyes out of embarrassment. I looked.

  “Would you like to touch it?”

  As uncertain as I was about what might happen, I admit I did, indeed, want to touch it now that it had been presented to me. Without voicing that thought, I extended my hand slowly.

  “Pat the head just like you would a puppy.”

  I did. I patted the head as if it had been a small animal. I could see it was getting bigger.

  “Let it touch you now.” He extended his hand and lifted one of my breasts, which was just above the water line. Moving a little closer, he rubbed the head of his penis against my nipple. His organ was standing straight out now.

  He let the puppy nibble at my other breast. I patted it again. It felt warm to the touch. Releasing my breast, he held it directly in front of me.

  “Would you like to kiss it, Ginger?”

  Oh, lord, how I wanted to kiss it, but I knew, or highly suspected, where this was going. I couldn’t let that happen. I wasn’t going to lose my virginity. Not with this handsome man who was old enough to be my father or with Tommy or with anyone else until my wedding night. They could do pretty much what they wanted with my rectum, they could spank my naked ass, I would even spread myself in wanton positions, but no one was going to penetrate my vagina until my wedding night.

  “Mr. Johnson, you might not know this, but I’m a virgin. At least my vagina is. I’m not going to let anyone spoil that. I am going to be a virgin until my wedding day.”

  A sort of sad look came over his face and he dropped to one knee. He placed both hands on my hips. “Honey, honey, honey.” He reminded me of Uncle John calling me Baby Doll. “Ginger, honey, I would never ever do that. Not to someone your age. Believe it or not, I am a gentleman. If I was going to try something like that, I would have done it while you were lying on the bed and spread out.”

  When I didn’t respond, he continued, “Ginger, you’re going to learn that there are numerous ways two people can pleasure each other without having genital to genital sex. You know what I mean about genital to genital sex, don’t you?”

  “I think so. Yes.”

  “What I did to you while you were suspended is a good example of what I’m talking about. Am I right?”

  I nodded my head. “I guess,” I said in a non-committing tone.

  He rose from where he was kneeling and took a seat alongside me.

  “Sit in my lap a while. That will help you relax.

  I liked that idea. I placed myself in his lap and he wrapped his arms aroun
d me and gently rocked. This felt so good. The warm water flowing over our body was soothing.

  “Could you come by tomorrow, Ginger?”

  “I suppose. Uncle John will still be out of town and I’ll just be alone. Why, was you going to give me another treatment?”

  “Sort of. I was thinking about something else that might work well in your behind.”

  “What is that? Are you a scientist like Uncle John?”

  “No, I’m not a scientist,” he allowed with a chuckle, “and why don’t we let it be a secret. I’ll surprise you tomorrow. You do like surprises, don’t you?”

  “I certainly do,” I said as I lay my head on his shoulder. After a moment, I asked, “Can I touch it again? Actually, I think I not only want to touch it, but I’d like to kiss it now that we got that straightened out.”

  I sit back where I had been sitting and Mr. Johnson stood before me again with a full erection. I took it in my hand and brought my lips slowly to it. I kissed it once then I kissed it twice. I thought of what Mr. Johnson had done for me and knew it would be nothing but right for me to reciprocate. Steeling myself for something I had never done before, I first put my lips around the head. Before I realized, I had as much of the shaft as I could in my mouth. I let it slip back until only the head was encircled with my lips and I sucked. I wasn’t sure I was doing it right until I cut my eyes upward and saw Mr. Johnson had his eyes closed, savoring what I was doing to him.

  I must have done this for ten minutes or more when I felt the penis start to contract between my lips. Shortly, wave after wave of a sticky substance began to flood my mouth. As much as I wanted to spit it out, I didn’t want to stop pleasuring Mr. Johnson. Fortunately, before I choked, Mr. Johnson’s body stopped quivering and he withdrew his organ.