A young man caught defrauding his firm by his older female boss thinks he has chosen the soft option when she offers to deal with his crime herself rather than calling in the police. But all too soon he is forced to revise his opinion.
Nigel Cuthbertson has already been stripped naked, whipped, and forced to serve as a domestic in Ms Forbes’s home. In “No Escape”, Nigel’s service as a naked slave to Ms Forbes continues, but now takes a strange new twist….
I hope you all enjoy this new story.
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Here is an extract:
She checked her wristwatch, thought for a moment, then smiled to herself.
“Go and get a fork, an ordinary table fork, from the kitchen.”
“Yes, Mistress,” and Nigel did as he was told, wondering what on earth it could be for. Still, his not to reason why…
Returning, the stood there dumbly, afraid to interrupt — Mistress was leafing through the magazine again. After a few minutes, she glanced up. “Tut! Get out into the back garden. There are flower-beds stretching all along one side. Get them weeded — with that fork.”
“Er…” Nigel was sure he must have misunderstood. Weed — garden— kitchen fork… eh?
“Are you still here?”
Ms Forbes reached for something at her side, then looked down angrily. “Oh blast! Well, since you are still here when you shouldn’t be, get your lazy upstairs on the double and fetch me my riding crop from where I left it!”
“In the bedroom, dolt!” she almost shouted, seeing his look of stupefaction.
“Yes Mistress,” he said with sinking heart. She could only want the whip for one reason…
And so it proved. Back before her, he was ordered onto hands and knees — “snout to the ground, arse in the air!” as Mistress somewhat crudely put it — and received no less than twelve cruel strokes, each one cutting across his upstretched rump like fire.
Nigel howled and bucked, but somehow managed to take them all without twisting away. He had already learned the hard way that that would only earn him double the number of strokes..
When she was finished, Ms Forbes tossed the crop onto the settee, and said casually,
“And now, I believe you have some gardening to do.”
“Y-yes, M-mistress,” said Nigel, with a choked half-sob, and scuttled miserably out of the room.