The Tree

This is a quirky little story that I thought you the readers might enjoy. It starts as a spanking story and develops into a full blown female domination tale, with lots in between. Have a nice day, the culprit should I am certain. Enjoy if you will with my compliments. S. M. Ackerman.

The Tree.

The garden was large, filled with trees of all sorts but I had only got any interest in only one of them. It was a huge oak tree set within our apple orchard and it must be about three hundred years old, judging by the height and number of branches it had.

I have been into self bondage since I turned eighteen and had found a site on the net dealing with ropes and discipline which had excited me. As I grew older the sexual element of what I had been enjoying began to become even more apparent and the desire for discipline increased, I became more of a loner as I got older.

I had acquired both a step-sister and a step-mother but sadly no father figure as he also died suddenly after he had remarried to my step-mother, so disciplining of us girls fell to our step-mother and she having two girls to look after both late teenagers, one her daughter aged eighteen, and me aged nineteen.

She decided, strange as it might sound, to threaten to apply her hand, the strap, and if especially deserved the cane to our bottoms. My step-sister hated being in trouble with her mother, I quite liked it at times, and so it was me that pushed her, despite my age, I tried to test her resolve. I wanted to receive the best of our mum’s attention, and at nineteen the thought of being put across her knee to be spanked or bent over the table for the cane did nothing but drive my lust and desire. I liked it and wanted to receive it from her, but I was not brave enough to ask her to give it to me directly, which with hind-sight I think that she might have done, just to keep me calm and out of trouble. As I have said I wanted to be punished and she had threatened to discipline me and so I was determined to receive it.

I think she realised that I would be getting something strange out of her threatened discipline, because despite there being only a year between me and Beth she being nineteen at this point, she stopped threatening to punish me with a spanking, which I found very disappointing. She stopped spanking me, I only felt her hand applied to my bottom once and received the cane once before she had realised the situation she had created, but she carried on doing so with Beth as it seemed to work well with her; though Beth would not agree that it worked, for her it was pure humiliation to be spanked at nineteen and by her mother. She always complained bitterly on the odd occasion that it happened to her.

As for me I was punished differently from then on, mum made me work in the house, she made me strip and clean which was pure humiliation for me and not what I really wanted, she even locked me in the cellar on one occasion; so I still got disciplined by her, but not in ways that she thought that I might enjoy.

Anyway back to the oak tree, I had an idea, one that had come to me late one night as I stood stark naked looking out of my bedroom window. I was feeling especially horny that night and my imagination was running in overdrive. That tree represented an immovable object, one that could hold me tight and keep me helpless. I sneaked out of my bedroom window climbing down the latticing that lined our home, feeling, I might add, very brave at being naked alone and out of doors at night.

I made it unseen to the tree and was screened from view by the orchard and a hedge, which separated the house and main lawn from the orchard. I spent a few minutes with my legs wrapped as much as they could be around the tree trunk and with my arms reaching upwards and around. The tree tormented me by its presence and soon I was grinding my sex against its coarse bark. The orgasm when it finally arrived left me breathless and laid back on the grass, with my legs still entwined around the trunk. Sexual gratification like the oak had provided had never been experienced by me up until that night, and it took a while for me to recover.

I am twenty-one years old now and still as desperate to be bound up and punished as I had been back then, the only difference is that I now have a good set of boobs and a nice peachy white ass, and the knowledge of how to get what I want from life. I still live at home, still sharing the house with my step-mother and Beth, but we each have our own lives now and seldom spend much time together, which was how this nightmare began for me.

I had long wanted to be naked and helplessly bound tightly to the oak tree, I wanted to be frustrated and beaten hard and I wanted to be restrained without option of escape, and that meant using serious bondage on myself.

I had planned carefully; I bought a small winch which I rigged up to the oak tree in such a way as to be almost invisible from the ground, unless the cables were lowered. It had a little remote control and that worked perfectly, I tested it rigorously by taking the cables up and down at a single touch to the button.

Next I needed restraints and rope, lots of rope, these I bought at a local diy store; my purchases consisted of a hundred feet of nylon cable, some pulleys and of course some binding strapping made of nylon. I made up four separate cuffs to hold my limbs; I fitted clip releases to each of them so that they could snap into loops tied on the end of the four lengths of rope. These I then fed through the assorted and tightly bolted into place pulleys, then I connected each of them to the winch cable so that it would stretch me out whilst dragging me feet first against the tree trunk. Once I was pulled groin tight against the tree trunk the cables would continue lifting me upwards crushing me tightly into the coarse bark, hopefully chaffing the hell out of my vulnerable skin.

Lastly I needed to devise a thrashing machine. I got hold of a wheel and a motor and joined them, I had a regulator and a clip, and it was all powered by mains electricity via a cable leading from a plug in the garage. The idea was that the motor would wind up a clutch and then at a certain tension point it would release the stored energy, and that would drive the wheel around. I fitted a thin very flexible cane to the wheel, so that as it spun around once, it would lash my bottom and thighs with a regular beat of about two strokes per minute. I also fitted a timer which I set for two long hours. The timer would shut of both the wheel and the winch and I would be lowered to the ground and the thrashing would stop.

I had purchased a gag, a big hard rubber ball-gag; after all I did not want passing strangers hearing my heart-felt sobs, and there would be plenty of them over that very long two hours. Now all that I needed was for the house to be empty for the evening and I could get some of the punishment I really needed to receive. This would be the soundest thrashing a girl could realistically take, and one with no option but to suffer every self inflicted stroke of, and there were going to be a hell of a lot of them to suffer through. I had decided on two hours of torment for myself because the thought of receiving two hundred and forty strokes of that cane in one go was terrifying, and I needed to be scared stiff if I was going to get everything I deserved, and to feel as though I was being punished properly.

Two weeks passed before my step-mother was out for the evening and Beth was going to see a friend as well, the time of my discipline had arrived. I gathered up my equipment and set of out to the oak tree once they had gone. I switched on everything loaded the cane into the wheel, checked its alignment and pegged it down. Next I put on the ankle cuffs and the wrist restraints and placed the remote between my thighs on the ground. I forced the gag deep into my mouth and buckled it up behind my head. I was ready, the equipment was ready, I was alone and would be for the rest of the evening; so what was I waiting for?

I looked towards the tree ten long feet away from where I was sitting, I parted my knees and looked at the remote that would set everything into motion and I hesitated, in abject fear of what I was about to inflict on my body. Why did I want to do this to myself, why did I want to be bound and beaten so soundly? The only answer I could come up with was because I was a horny slut and I needed to suffer, and with that thought still filling my mind I reached down and pressed the start button.

The winch wined high above my head, I waited. The ropes gathered in pulled by the winch cable, I waited; the strain began to be exerted on my ankles as the cable wound in further. Soon I was being dragged forward towards the oak tree, my legs were pulled apart as I closed, the muscles stretched as the tree reared up before me. The rope wound around the rear of the trunk followed by my legs; my groin contacted the bark as my arms were lifted upward. I was pulled up to my feet and then to my tiptoes and then clear of the ground, the ropes wound on until I was clamped to the trunk helpless and unable to move.

My naked bottom had ended up exactly where I had intended it to be, perfectly positioned to receive my sentence. I waited, listening for the first click of the motor winding up, the ratchet worked slowly click followed click until there came a grating sound, and the motor stopped winding. The counter would have activated and soon.

I screamed into my gag; the release of energy had occurred faster than I had thought that it would. The cane lashed around to beat at my proffered bottom cheeks, I tried to wriggle to dispel the agony but the ropes held me firmly. The motor started again, I had two hours of this to endure and soon the cane mounting would start to wobble. It was a design feature I had built into the mounting block to allow the cane to be delivered in a swathe of ten inches, which meant that my bottom would not be the only place to be thrashed.

There were my spread thighs to consider and as an extra discipline and quite a risk, I had made certain that if the wobble happened in a certain way, then the cane would contact with my inner thighs and perhaps even lash into my demanding soaking wet sex. Now that would be a real stroke of discipline. I hoped that it happened at least once, but not to many times more. The thought of that special stroke of the cane scared the daylights out of me, which was why I had been determined to make certain that it could possibly happen.

Lash followed lash for nearly an hour before the fates decreed that it should be my slit that felt the torment. I screamed in agony and shook violently in my bonds. I was in such agony that I failed to hear the garage doors opening as a car was driven in. From the back window of the garage I would be on full display, I had not thought of that because I had not expected anyone to return, let alone to see me bound as I was. The clicks started to build again, I waited counting them, twenty had been the point of release of the other strokes and as it arrived I heard the wheel turn.

The cane lashed around and again contacted not my bottom or even my thighs, but directly into my sex again. I heard a clapping of approval from behind me. I heard a little chuckle of laughter and I knew that I was not alone. A female voice spoke next to my ear, it said to me in a very familiar voice.

“I thought as much, a very clever little rig you have here, but I would bet that despite all of this effort, you do not feel that you are being punished. Thrashed and beaten yes, but you don’t feel the humiliation of being disciplined effectively by another person; so I had better put that right for you.”

The voice of my step-mother departed, the cane was removed from the restraining clip and she returned to stand by my side. “You have another hour on the clock to go, through but I think that I can do much better than that.”

Then the cane lashed through the air cutting into my left thigh, my step-mother was not holding back. She lashed me again this time the other thigh felt her wrath and then she set to on my bottom.

The caning stopped at twenty strokes and was replaced with my step-mother’s fingers rubbing along my slit.

“Wet aren’t you girl, I think this is not sever enough for you to get off on.”

Step-mother went away again. I heard a cutting sound and then she returned. The fire exploded all across my bottom and even down into my groin. It felt like a hundred prickles driven at once into my flesh. I bucked like I had never bucked, I even screamed at only the second lash of her implement, but I had no idea what she was using to cause me such agony.

The pain continued until I was weeping like a spoilt brat and then the fingers returned, my step-mother made certain that I, her very humiliated step-daughter obtained what I needed and so obviously desired. She did not touch me with loving concern she instead drove me like a slut driven hard to come. She reamed me with three fingers whilst inserting her thumb into my bottom hole, and when I came she took her hand away and wiped her fingers over my bottom in contempt.

“I think you need to finish you own punishment now, after all the trouble you have gone to obtain it for yourself it would be a shame if you did not suffer every single stroke.”

With that she placed the cane back into the wheels clamp and set it in motion again, calling back to me as she departed.

“I will see and talk to you later my girl, in the lounge, is that understood.”

The cane ratcheted up and my self imposed discipline continued for the remaining hour. The winch released and I tumbled to the ground in tears; I had to untie myself and then go into the house, where my step-mother would be waiting to discuss my behaviour and needs. Something I was dreading, but in which I had no choice. After all I wanted to be punished, and now I had been and would be, and my step-mother was now a part of my discipline.

What would happen from now on I did not know, but something humiliating would I was certain; but in a way I was quite glad to have been discovered and dealt with so sternly, not a bad result for a twenty-one year old girl in desperate need of discipline and bondage.

Lord knows what Beth would say when she discovered the truth, after all there is little likelihood of my step-mother not punishing me from now on, and Beth will be aware of the change in my position. I hope she enjoys seeing justice done to me her step-sister once more, harsh humiliating painful justice, frequently delivered without concern for my feelings or modesty by our strict mother. Now it will be me that is once more spanked strapped and caned, not her. A change I know she will be more than pleased to welcome in. I can see a lot of tears in my future, I sincerely hope…

To be continued...

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S. M. Ackerman.

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08.09.12