EXTRACT FOR
CP Experiences
(Stephen Rawlings)
|
This set of short stories begins with a stand-alone
episode, originally part of RETURN TO TANSY'S TON
To change the subject, Eve asked if
anyone was going to Tansy's `at home' in a few days. "Gordon will be back, won't
he?" "Tansy's ton," Penny
replied. "Oh, I expect Doug will be there, not a thing he'd lightly miss.
Don't know if he'll be taking me, though. Have to see how things shape up, once
I'm out of here." They stayed a bit longer, then left so
as not to contribute to Penny's humiliation further. There had been increasing
signs of the pressure in her bowels for some time and an eruption could not be
postponed much longer, they thought. Better to let her face the degradation of
a shit-filled panty in the privacy of her cage and remove their eyes, however
sympathetic, from her shame. In the car, Eve was curious. "Penny used a strange expression
back there." "What was that, then?" Daisy
wanted to know. "She referred to Tansy's party as
her `ton'," Eve replied. "Seemed a strange way to put it." "The sisters looked at each
other. "Of course," said Daisy,
after a momentary pause, "you probably haven't seen anyone doing their
ton. I think the last few were all during your time in the freezer, when you
were being initiated into the Eden ethos." "Ethos!" Eve retorted.
"More like battered into believing that nothing outside could ever be too
bad to bear after what we went through in that hell-hole." "Well, however you choose to look
on your further education experience," Daisy replied with a smile,
"you would have missed them and I don't imagine it occurred to anyone to
mention it." "So what is this ton, then?"
Eve asked again, her curiosity growing on itself. "Angus said, last week,
that we'd be going to Tansy's, but I thought it was just another drinks
party." "I suppose it has quite a
connection with your initiation ceremony," Daphne replied. "It goes
like this. Women who were brought up here only do a token initiation, compared
with your intensive months in the freezer; it's expected they'll learn it at
their mother's knee, so to speak, not to mention over their father's knee. At
some time in their twenties, though, they are expected to do their ton, as the
expression is. It's a rite of passage, when they prove that they have what it
takes to be an Eden wife." "Mmm, I can understand
that," Eve said. "But just what is involved? Come to that, isn't
Tansy a little old for it?" "She's only thirty-six,"
Daphne supplied. "Not exactly a grandmother. Besides, women are expected
to rerun their ton when their families have grown up, so as to prove they can
still cut it." "Cut what?" "The mustard," Daisy
contributed. "Still take the father and mother of a beating, and come back
for more. Test of willpower, moral fibre and all the rest of it." "Do I detect a flippant note there,
sister mine?" Daphne said warningly and Daisy bit her lip. "Actually, she's right,"
Daphne went on, addressing Eve. "It goes something like this. When the
appropriate time comes around, the woman is expected to arrange an `at home' to
which she invites all her friends and relatives. She will discreetly put it
around that she will attempt to do her ton at the party. She only has to tell
two women, of course, and every Tom, Dick and Harry on the island will know
within twenty-four hours." "Every Tom, Dick and Harry? I
thought this was a private party?" "It's the custom. Anyone who gets
to hear of the party is entitled to attend. I expect Tansy will get a great
turnout. She's a little older than most and younger than the second time around
women and, anyway, there hasn't been a ton attempt for months. In addition
she's very good looking; there will be a great many men and not a few women
wanting a chance to get at that pert bum of hers." "I might have known it. She gets
to take a beating. All social events here seem to revolve around such." "Yes, but it's more than usually
fierce and everyone, potentially, has a chance to take part. You see, Tansy has
to collect a hundred whacks to qualify. Actually, a few more. She has to take
them in sixes and the nearest you can get to a ton is 102. What happens is
that, at nine o'clock, Tansy has to stand in front of her guests and announce
that tonight she is going for her ton and, for all those who would like to help
to put their names on slips of paper, which are then placed in a hat." "Women, too?" Eve wanted to
know. "Women, too," Daphne agreed.
"I'm sure you know by now that that won't help Tansy at all. Once our
blood is up and things get pretty heated at these affairs, we women can be just
as merciless as the men. Anyway, Tansy has to draw a slip from the hat, read
out the name and invite the man or woman to give her a set of six. She takes
down her panties, grips her ankles and takes six stingers." "And then draws another
name?" Eve suggested. "Not necessarily," Daphne
corrected her. "Tansy can choose the moment she bends for another sixer,
but she's up against the clock. She has to take her ton by "It's a bit like running a
race," Daisy said, helpfully. "You have to decide on your basic
tactics, then decide as you go along when you can manage a sprint and when you
desperately need to take it easy for a lap." "I can see it takes more than
just the courage of a dumb beast," Eve said. "It needs brains too.
Good thing we keep them in our bums," she added with a weak laugh. "I can see Angus is making
progress with your education," Daisy said with a smile. "Bet you
wouldn't have thought like that out there," gesturing vaguely in the
direction of an outside world that Eve had left forever. "What sort of cane does Ryan
use?" Eve wanted to know. A year ago she might have hesitated to have even
mentioned such a subject but now, fully immersed in the round of strict
discipline that was the cherished lot of all females in Eden, she asked the
question, not in fear, but with a professional interest. After all, when your
life was governed in its every aspect by the sting of the rod on one's bare
buttocks, it was only natural to take an interest in the instrument to be
employed. They were sitting in Tansy's lounge,
Gordon's sisterly `pets', Penny and Eve, drinking cocktails, waiting for the
proceedings to warm up. It was a little after eight o'clock and custom, it
appeared, dictated that a woman going for her ton didn't bend and bare for her
first lucky dip until nine and had to complete her five score and two by
midnight. The waiting time so far had seen an incautious number of drinks flow
past each pair of painted lips. "Have you heard?" Daisy
enquired, not bothering to lower her voice. "She's going to do it on the
strap." "On the strap?" Daphne
exclaimed. "That's cheating. A strap isn't nearly as painful as a
cane." "Don't you believe it,"
Penny answered. "Wait until you see what Ryan uses on her. It's no joke, I
can tell you." "Don't believe it," Daphne
persisted. "No strap is equal to a cane." "Gordon, darling," she
called across to where a knot of men were chatting by the bar. "Have you
heard? Tansy is copping out. She's going for her ton with a strap." "With THE strap," Gordon
corrected her. "Don't care." Drink was
making her careless. "She should use a cane like the rest of us; a thick
rattan penal, not an itsy bit of leather." There were assenting murmurs from the
group of women around her as she looked challengingly at her spouse. "You know," he said
pensively, "I think you could do with a demonstration to convince
you." He turned to the men around him. "What do you think, men? A sample for
each of them, to reassure them it hurts?" There was general assent to the
suggestion. "Four a piece should be enough to
convince them, I would think," Gordon suggested. "Do you mind doing
the honours, Ryan, seeing as it's your party?" "Actually, it's Tansy's
party," Ryan corrected him. "Custom says the woman must make all the
arrangements for her ton, but I'd be very happy to oblige. Who's first?" "Well, Daphne started it,"
Gordon said helpfully, "so she can have first turn. Where's the strap,
Ryan?" He went over to a side table where,
apparently, the instrument in question had been put on display for the benefit
of the guests. Daphne had been occupied removing her panties while he did so
and looked up to see it swinging sullenly from his hand. "Oh my God!" she breathed as
it dangled before her startled gaze. "THAT strap!" Her surprise and alarm were shared by
the other women present and understandably so. The heavy black strip, moving
with a sluggishness that spoke of weight and force, was fully three feet long,
three inches wide and made from the thickest leather that Eve had ever seen.
She could hardly believe that any domestic animal came packaged in an epidermis
as thick and caught herself wondering what sort of jungle creature, rhino or
hippo had contributed a strip of its hide to make this fearful weapon of female
correction. Daphne was not reassured by further
inspection, the horrid strap seemed more frightening with every glance she gave
it. "Come on, Daph," her husband
encouraged. "Get that dress off and assume the position." Reluctant fingers slid a zip, there
was a stirring of silk and Daphne's mature but delicious body was revealed in
bra and hose, the magnificent buttocks quite bare. She advanced to the wall,
where Gordon had indicated and leant forward to place her hands against it,
some three feet apart. "Legs back," Ryan
instructed, "and feet apart." Daphne assumed the classic `position',
her knees braced, the cheeks of her ample arse
slightly flexed. "Perfect," Ryan approved.
"That's just how a woman should be for a thrashing with a heavyweight like
this. Let the cheeks hang loose a little so that the leather can lift them and
bruise right through. A good beating like this leaves Tansy unable to sit for
days. Even with just four you will begin to get the idea." As he spoke, his arm had been
withdrawing a little. Now it completed the backward swing and returned with
terrifying force to slap across the waiting buttock flesh with a dull sickening
thuck that rocked the braced frame of the woman against the wall. Daphne grunted with the shock of it,
then drew in her breath again in a long hiss of agony as the full force of the
pain reached her. "Oh shit!" she murmured
under her breath. Gordon caught the sound. "Swearing under correction,"
he announced. "Better make it six, Ryan. Might as well make it six all
round then. That'll make sure they all get the message." The black snake flew into the white
buttock a second time, laid on just below the thick red stripe that marked the
fall of the first. Again Daphne shook and grunted, but this time she was
careful to keep her thoughts to herself. Three swept in and she twisted away as
the pain flooded through her. "Straighten up!" Ryan
ordered. "Or there'll be extras." Daphne straightened. There was no way
she wanted more than she was due already. The tracks of the blows had overlapped
into one broad band of pain and Ryan brought the strap through the air with a
low rushing sound to thuck into the centre of the hot band of tortured flesh.
Daphne bucked and squirmed as she fought against the bruising impact and Ryan
steadied her with another growled threat. She presented a steady pair of ravaged
bottom cheeks to the leather as it bit in for the fifth time, but couldn't hold
it. Her hips turned as she whined through her nose, spluttering snot over her
face and Ryan had to call her back to order for the sixth and last of her due.
Again, she squirmed and writhed, sobs choking her throat, but managed to stay
in position until the blessed command to stand came. Her hands flew towards her
angry swollen bottom cheeks, but her training warned her just in time and she
instead clasped them tightly across her chest to keep them out of harm's way,
bowing her tear-stained face over them to hide the ravaged make-up and swollen
lip and eyes from her sisters. All gazed in awe at the state of her derriere. |