The site is called Public Disgrace and has a lot of outdoor bondage and public humiliation. Girls (mostly east european) are paraded through town and fucked in front of strangers while they are tied up. The scenes are real, and not staged. This is the best punishment in public you will ever see.
A story of filth that took place at the theatre Part 4
This is part 4 of Marcus Strapps story from the theatre.
Go to the end of the article/story to see links to the other parts. Go to the comment section at the end of this story and let Marcus know what you think about his story. You can also visit his website here: Marcus Strapp
--- Chapter Four ---
Chloé is now very much in an altered state. Yes she is functioning enough to co-ordinate herself to the exit at the interval. But she is drunk and her capacity for reason is compromised. It's not the wine. She hangs on me but now it is in a way that is more mental than physical. Here in the foyer I could ask her to go down on all fours and with absolutely no doubt, I know she would for me. My duty of care is why I do this. I will take her to the edge, but I will never let her go. We step outside so we can get some fresh air. God am I the proud one! I push and pull at her in a manner that tests people's attention. She complains in the most delightful way.
The second half I allow her some respite. We do indeed watch the performance and with all but the occasional harsh word to remind her of her duty to cling to me, we both enjoy the show and recover with the rest. There is a warmth spreading between us for the appreciation of just how perfect this wonderland, this bubble of fantasy is. We know we have to return to real worlds but for now, we wont let that intrude.
The poor thing has not eaten all day. I really must be quite the softest thing. I have eaten. My concern is solely the best use of the hours that I have her for. I have no desire to waste time in a stupid Italian restaurant feeding her her favourite meal when what I want is her back at my place. Nevertheless she pleads and I concede (now do not go telling anyone that! I am a hard bastard fuck and normally I would just laugh and let her starve to death). The waiter seems to understand wonderland rules and so when I tell him that we are in a hurry, and would like a single main course, instead of the usual result of being pushed to the back of the order queue, the meal arrives in what has to be record time.
She looks at me from across the table. "Can we have a glass of wine?"
"No. We have had enough". I order a bottle of still water. She is a bit pissed at this because she loves wine with her meal. But, I don't want her senses dulled and anyway I have to drive. In real life she is use to getting what she wants. She is use to using her guile and charm to manipulate and lead people. At work she has to lead. Her marriage is partnership, but she knows, oh does she know, that she can always get her way and that so much of the responsibility of that relationship falls to her.
She spends five minutes pulling faces at me letting me know she objects being treated like a child. I spend the five minutes knowing that being allowed to be a child is lifting the burdensome yoke of responsible adulthood.
You see, from time to time she needs to hear "no", just to be reassured that it is I, and not her, that hold the reins.
I'm half way through the salmon linguine when I have had enough. I let her finish and I pick at my bread and olive oil. I motion for the waiter to bring us the bill and in moments we are walking back to the valet parking. It's in one of those inner London places that reside under an office block. Those excavations go very deep. We walk down the concrete ramp and half way down I grab her and pull her hair. I kiss her with absolutely nothing but intention to satisfy my hunger. She falls quiet and totters down the ramp on my arm like a cheap hooker. Her stocking tops have fallen a little and the suspenders and white thighs are on show for the garage attendants.
"What car sir?"
"Gold Mercedes"
He shoots me a derisory glance and looks over his shoulder.
"Which one sir? Do you remember the number plate sir?"
Fucking London! That wouldn't happen in Cambridge.
Chloé is installed in the passenger seat and I hit the SatNav. I take a look at the route and make some changes. I want to go past some of the landmarks. I hit a route to take me along Chelsea embankment. The traffic is easy and we wind our way through lights and architecture. We look up above our eye line and point out to each other buildings and features. There is a gentle evening mist and the lights along Chelsea embankment for us tonight are all in soft focus.
"Can I slip off my shoes"
I look at her, a little pet. "Yes of course, make yourself comfy"
As the shoes slip from her feet I twist round and catch a hard stinging slap on her thigh. Why in heaven's name should I do that? Why in heaven's name should she be grateful? Why in heaven's name is that a communication of love?
The lights are red and so I take the opportunity to grab her hair and slap her across the face. "Tell me you love it and you need it?
Do I need to tell you she complies? But what I may need to tell you is that once again she in that magical elevator and is descending through floors of darkness back into my basement world.
Over the next few miles, somehow (as if I could be responsible) her position has changed. Her dress is around her waist. Her thong is nowhere to be seen and her stockinged feet are finding purchase on my dashboard.
The slut gets worked to a gushing orgasm right there in central London. She is totally out of it. Totally unaware of the cab driver that pulled a 'U' turn in front of us and nearly wrote off a parked car when he got an eyeful. You cannot imagine a prettier sight. Diffused fairy lights and street lighting that poured liquid through my windscreen on to her exposure. Neatly shaved, young and pretty, nyloned in black, and stuffed full with my fingers. (Tip: Doms don't buy a car without automatic and cruise control)
The next hour she dozes peacefully. Her knee keeps colliding with the stereo "on" button and I have to stifle giggles as I switch it off. This time it is I who make sure that we are in physical contact for the journey. She sleeps.
--- Chapter Five ---
I start to rouse her as we start to approach Cambridge. It's been a long and full day and I am tired. Tired but not quite dead tired. Just enough juice left in the accumulators to ensure that she is put to bed properly. The Strapp apartment is on the 3rd floor. She is guided to walk in front of me. As she mounts the stairs, I soak in her white sexy thighs and glimpses of her already punished sex, I reflect on how stupendously surreal this all is. It is so at odds with my tender years as a shy youth, so beyond the excesses of my wishes.
We stagger into my hall and I close the front door behind me. Hand in hair I push her to a corner in the hall. A ceiling spotlight picks her out as I bend her at the waist and my other hand starts between her legs. Like a new foal she teeters around on unsteady slender limbs.
I play with the delights to be found below her waist. Her hands scrabble at the wall to steady herself. I get a bit rougher. She is handled and moved her face crushes into the wall's corner. All the while she remains completely quiet whilst I interrogate her and learn all I want to know.
"ALL" or "NOTHING" She has done me proud. We are in a complete state of "ALL".
I bring her to upright and walk her to the Strapp bed. (yes, you know the one) She is tossed on to it, and rolls on to her back. I start to slap her thighs, her breasts, her arms. It's not particularly hard, there is no need for it to be. This sex is far more the product of rubbing two minds together rather than just two bodies.
"Get on all fours, I have had to wait too bloody long for this. I'm going to fuck your arse"
She still wears the black high heels, the stockings and the dress still clings to her but is up around her waist. She's not new to this. She knows the position well and knows how best position her self so that I can hilt her in that first thrust. I'll avoid any more of the mechanics, but I am so completely over taken by the exquisiteness of this venture that I have to stop the punishment three times lest it stop for good before either of us are ready! There is a one way lurid and humiliating monologue. I know her well enough to know this is what she needs. The halogen ceiling spots halo her assumed attitude of complete sexual submission. It is an image burnt into my minds eye.
A time comes when I want that release that has all day long been denied me. I can feel her tighten on my shaft and I let her for a few moments pulse. Then I withdraw. Just one more humiliation before I fold her into my arms. I milk myself into the palm of my hand. She did not quite expect that and this unexpected turn of events has her for a moment feeling lost. Then when I am done I yank her by the hair and shove my cupped hand under face.
"lick it!"
She twists away and cries out a "no". I pull her hair tighter and shove my hand into her face and smear my seed over her tear stained pretty features.
"Fucking lick it up!"
Little sobs, sweet little sobs and she licks and laps and loves me so adoringly.
Chloé and I do not have limits. What I want is so perfectly what she wants. We both know mistakes could be made, and because she knows me, because she knows my intent, she has already told me she would rather abandon limits and give me forgiveness should I ever get things wrong. When she is with me, she really and genuinely only wants to be what I want her to be. Reader, if you are not taken aback by that statement then I have failed to give good account of matters.
We are for now completely spent. In a to be unrecollectable stupor we manage to divest ourselves of remaining raiment. Neither of us know any more until the night sky has turned from dark navy to cold grey.
"Morning lovely"
It is my want to be all over my lover in the morning. I am always so pleased to see the new day with her there in my bed. Morning brings with it playful fun and excitement. There is however, one matter that has yet to be attended to. I am the only one that has ever fisted Chloé. It's an act that just leaves such a deep groove in your very middle, your very soul. Once you have found the fascination to try it, the chances are, it is going to touch you in a significant way. It is not something that you do often, but is something that you do to wrap your hand round her soul. We wake to the realisation that the time for us is running out. In so many ways, with so little time left, now is not the time to embark upon such an act of intimate barbarism. I will not be afforded an opportunity for the aftercare, the closeness, the sleep and the cuddling. But somehow once again limits and rules just do not apply here. I lean over to the bedside table and reach for a sachet of lube. I apply it to my hand. I wear my girl.
--- Epilogue ---
Chloé and Strapp went on to live in the little house on the prairie where they raised eight kids and.... no hang on that's an epilogue to a different story.
What can I say? Unbelievable isn't it? Well of course it is. I mean synchronized climax with the Flamenco on stage! Really! It's the stuff of Jilly Cooper paperbacks. Isn't it? Yeah! You don't want to believe everything that old rapscallion Strapp witters on about.
The author would however, appreciate any help with the following:-
What's the best way for me to remove foundation from the white emulsion paint work in my hall?
What's the best way to clean nasty white stains from car seat upholstery?
Oh and one last thing, Bringing the slut off whilst driving through London had me all twisted and working hard. Once she had drifted off I contracted the worst case of hiccups I have ever experienced in my life. Every sodding 15 seconds. After 15 miles I was in pain and I started to get seriously worried. With hiccups there was no way I would be able to continue the play. I watched the odometer tick off the miles with an ever increasing sense of unease and discomfort. 60 miles later when we arrived I was still suffering. Fortunately a glass of water and some controlled breathing and I was free of them by the time I had the slut in the corner of my hall. Now my question is, if the devil directed the proceedings this evening who was it that gave me the hiccups, the devil? God? An aggrieved archangel?
----
That completes Marcus Strapps story. I hope you liked it and that you will send me your own stories. Thank you Marcus, for sharing with us.
The source of this material is rumored to have
originated in a basement in Louisiana. At least that´s what most experienced surfers and
webmasters agrees on, while others claims that it´s a dutch producers work.
Women are being trained (for 4 days) to be submissive and serve men. It´s a hard
regime that they have to endure. They have to give blowjobs and take both vaginal and anal
sex while they are tied up.
