C.A.B.fessions ~ The Vicar's Wife
(True Story. M/f, Warning: adult themes.)
A quick note: Some of you know me as a contributor to the art section or have viewed my gallery, but as of late, I have been in a writing mood. I thought it might be fun to submit some of my true life experiences as a tickle torture sadist. These are personal memories, so excuse me if I keep them short, less detailed than most of my other works. Short and sweet, just as I remember them. Thanks for reading.
* * * * * * * * *
THE VICAR'S WIFE
Back in the eighties I was studying for a degree in the United Kingdom and part of my research found me in several small towns and villages for overnight stays. In one particular and quaint English village I stopped into the local pub one night for a pint or two. It was a small town and everyone knows "the Yank" when he walks in. Although tolerant of the brash young man from America, the locals were standoffish and I was left to a corner by myself.
After a time a woman approached me and asked to sit. She was older than me, in her early thirties. Pretty, but in a plain way, with mousey hair, and a frumpy dress, but a polite air and diction that did not match the locals’ accent. We began to chit chat and a few drinks later it was very apparent that we were flirting. At the time I did not understand why we were being stared at by the lock-lipped locals, but one knows when one is being watched on the sly.
A few more and we were ripe to leave. At that age, a young man does not hem and haw about a pretty woman and her motives (or his own,) so we simply cashed out and left for her flat. She invited me up to her second story walk-up; a small place that was obviously very old. She mentioned that she was currently separated and she lived alone, but to please be quiet because the landlady below was a nosy old bird and there are few secrets in town. I really didn't care about the old woman or my new friend's marital status. I was young and horny and happily buzzed.
Without a lot of fanfare we found ourselves in her bedroom, making out passionately and feverishly. As the heat rose, I gave her a slap on her ass, the dress fabric was sheer and my palm found a satisfying tight reception. She let go a sensual sigh and I asked her if she liked that. She said, "Yes. I do like that." So I laid her down on her belly, hiked up her dress and gave her a few more warm-ups. She purred on each.
I teased her, "You like being spanked, don't you? Have you been 'bad'?"
Without raising her head, she said, "Oh yes. Yes, I've been very bad. I have had naughty thoughts about you and I want to cheat on my husband." Her demeanor changed from proper and demure to sensual and dirty.
I played it up to see how far she would go.
"And so you need to be punished don't you?"
"oh... OH yesss! I need it. Punish me."
Gold. Pay-dirt. Sexy because she was so intelligent and proper... with a heavy dose of English reserve and guilt. I was on it.
"Stand up!" She did. Take off your clothes," She stripped. Small breasts. A little more fine unshaven body hair than Americans are used too. But her skin was porcelain and butter smooth. As I said, her demeanor changed and she became, what I would later understand as, the consummate submissive. Eyes down. Ashamed. ready for punishment.
"Do you have hose or stockings?" I asked.
'Why?"
"Because I'm going to tie you to the bed and punish you." And I smiled.
Without a word she went to a dresser and pulled out a few pair, "Is this enough?"
"Go to the bed and lie belly down." I ordered, "We are going to teach you a lesson you'll not soon forget." She audibly took some excited breaths and did as she was told. I tied her spread eagle face down to the metal frame and sat beside her, "Are you prepared?"
"Oh yessss!"
I spanked her ass until it was warm and pink, teased her verbally all the while, and she tried to answer my questions though hicks of sensual pain. Her bottom was rosy and she had tears, but she relished it. I dragged my nails down her back and over her glowing orbs, slipping a hand down and under to confirm she was in sexual ecstasy. I fingered her slowly as I interrogated her as to her imagined offense. She was the town Vicar's wife and they had separated, and everyone in town despised her because she was not from there. And, she admitted, she hated the small town and their cliquish ways, never properly accepting her. I spanked her to make her reveal more. She was getting off on having to "admit things." Lastly she admitted she wanted my young cock and that it made her feel dirty and that she relished it.
I told her she would have to suffer tonight as punishment for what she did and thought. And at every mention of the word 'punishment' she would let go a long sigh of "ohhhh" almost trembling. I spanked her more with my hand and my belt, and she cried and wept and squirmed. Then I dragged my nails down her back and legs and she tensed. I poked her sides to test. She yelped.
"Are you ticklish?"
A pause... then a small, "yes."
I straddled her back and began to tickle her in earnest. Her laughter was sweet and her cries pitiful. She bucked and it made me hard. I dismounted, and went to the foot of the bed. Her feet were narrow, smooth and pink. I grabbed an ankle and tickled her sole. She exploded with laughter into the pillow, trying not to wake the landlady. I pulled up a small antique foot stool and sat before the dangling targets and methodically tickled them. She pulled and jerked and laughed without control.
"Is this torture?" I teased.
"Oh yes! It is. it is!"
"It's punishment isn't it?"
"Yes! Do it. Torture me."
"This is your punishment and you must endure it. Take it. Don't move. Hold them still and suffer."
"I will. I'll try. Torture me make me suffer."
It was surreal music to my sadistic ears. I took my time and made her laugh and cry and sweat. Till at long last I could not hold back my own beast.
"Are you sorry?"
Another small, "yes."
I stripped and mounted her from behind, still tied, I gripped the metal head post for purchase and pumped her hard into the mattress until she came in muffled cries into her wet pillow. I continued until I myself erupted hot and groaning, spraying onto her back.
Things were curt for me back then and I saw no reason to stay, it was to be an early morning. I told her that I considered leaving her there for her landlady to find, but in the end I untied her one arm, kissed her cheek, and showed myself the stairs.
I am sure I have earned myself a scuttlebutt in that town that probably is spoken of in hushed tones to this day, that brash young American and the Vicar's wife.
~ C.A.B.
(True Story. M/f, Warning: adult themes.)
A quick note: Some of you know me as a contributor to the art section or have viewed my gallery, but as of late, I have been in a writing mood. I thought it might be fun to submit some of my true life experiences as a tickle torture sadist. These are personal memories, so excuse me if I keep them short, less detailed than most of my other works. Short and sweet, just as I remember them. Thanks for reading.
* * * * * * * * *
THE VICAR'S WIFE
Back in the eighties I was studying for a degree in the United Kingdom and part of my research found me in several small towns and villages for overnight stays. In one particular and quaint English village I stopped into the local pub one night for a pint or two. It was a small town and everyone knows "the Yank" when he walks in. Although tolerant of the brash young man from America, the locals were standoffish and I was left to a corner by myself.
After a time a woman approached me and asked to sit. She was older than me, in her early thirties. Pretty, but in a plain way, with mousey hair, and a frumpy dress, but a polite air and diction that did not match the locals’ accent. We began to chit chat and a few drinks later it was very apparent that we were flirting. At the time I did not understand why we were being stared at by the lock-lipped locals, but one knows when one is being watched on the sly.
A few more and we were ripe to leave. At that age, a young man does not hem and haw about a pretty woman and her motives (or his own,) so we simply cashed out and left for her flat. She invited me up to her second story walk-up; a small place that was obviously very old. She mentioned that she was currently separated and she lived alone, but to please be quiet because the landlady below was a nosy old bird and there are few secrets in town. I really didn't care about the old woman or my new friend's marital status. I was young and horny and happily buzzed.
Without a lot of fanfare we found ourselves in her bedroom, making out passionately and feverishly. As the heat rose, I gave her a slap on her ass, the dress fabric was sheer and my palm found a satisfying tight reception. She let go a sensual sigh and I asked her if she liked that. She said, "Yes. I do like that." So I laid her down on her belly, hiked up her dress and gave her a few more warm-ups. She purred on each.
I teased her, "You like being spanked, don't you? Have you been 'bad'?"
Without raising her head, she said, "Oh yes. Yes, I've been very bad. I have had naughty thoughts about you and I want to cheat on my husband." Her demeanor changed from proper and demure to sensual and dirty.
I played it up to see how far she would go.
"And so you need to be punished don't you?"
"oh... OH yesss! I need it. Punish me."
Gold. Pay-dirt. Sexy because she was so intelligent and proper... with a heavy dose of English reserve and guilt. I was on it.
"Stand up!" She did. Take off your clothes," She stripped. Small breasts. A little more fine unshaven body hair than Americans are used too. But her skin was porcelain and butter smooth. As I said, her demeanor changed and she became, what I would later understand as, the consummate submissive. Eyes down. Ashamed. ready for punishment.
"Do you have hose or stockings?" I asked.
'Why?"
"Because I'm going to tie you to the bed and punish you." And I smiled.
Without a word she went to a dresser and pulled out a few pair, "Is this enough?"
"Go to the bed and lie belly down." I ordered, "We are going to teach you a lesson you'll not soon forget." She audibly took some excited breaths and did as she was told. I tied her spread eagle face down to the metal frame and sat beside her, "Are you prepared?"
"Oh yessss!"
I spanked her ass until it was warm and pink, teased her verbally all the while, and she tried to answer my questions though hicks of sensual pain. Her bottom was rosy and she had tears, but she relished it. I dragged my nails down her back and over her glowing orbs, slipping a hand down and under to confirm she was in sexual ecstasy. I fingered her slowly as I interrogated her as to her imagined offense. She was the town Vicar's wife and they had separated, and everyone in town despised her because she was not from there. And, she admitted, she hated the small town and their cliquish ways, never properly accepting her. I spanked her to make her reveal more. She was getting off on having to "admit things." Lastly she admitted she wanted my young cock and that it made her feel dirty and that she relished it.
I told her she would have to suffer tonight as punishment for what she did and thought. And at every mention of the word 'punishment' she would let go a long sigh of "ohhhh" almost trembling. I spanked her more with my hand and my belt, and she cried and wept and squirmed. Then I dragged my nails down her back and legs and she tensed. I poked her sides to test. She yelped.
"Are you ticklish?"
A pause... then a small, "yes."
I straddled her back and began to tickle her in earnest. Her laughter was sweet and her cries pitiful. She bucked and it made me hard. I dismounted, and went to the foot of the bed. Her feet were narrow, smooth and pink. I grabbed an ankle and tickled her sole. She exploded with laughter into the pillow, trying not to wake the landlady. I pulled up a small antique foot stool and sat before the dangling targets and methodically tickled them. She pulled and jerked and laughed without control.
"Is this torture?" I teased.
"Oh yes! It is. it is!"
"It's punishment isn't it?"
"Yes! Do it. Torture me."
"This is your punishment and you must endure it. Take it. Don't move. Hold them still and suffer."
"I will. I'll try. Torture me make me suffer."
It was surreal music to my sadistic ears. I took my time and made her laugh and cry and sweat. Till at long last I could not hold back my own beast.
"Are you sorry?"
Another small, "yes."
I stripped and mounted her from behind, still tied, I gripped the metal head post for purchase and pumped her hard into the mattress until she came in muffled cries into her wet pillow. I continued until I myself erupted hot and groaning, spraying onto her back.
Things were curt for me back then and I saw no reason to stay, it was to be an early morning. I told her that I considered leaving her there for her landlady to find, but in the end I untied her one arm, kissed her cheek, and showed myself the stairs.
I am sure I have earned myself a scuttlebutt in that town that probably is spoken of in hushed tones to this day, that brash young American and the Vicar's wife.
~ C.A.B.
