From us001096@mindspring.com Mon Mar 17 16:48:43 1997
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Story: The Algernon Swinburne Society
From: us001096@mindspring.com (Lucio)
Date: Mon, 17 Mar 1997 21:48:43 GMT
--------
As someone has lately been advertsing ersatz Lucio stories, I
thought it was time to write another adventure of my alter ego.
It got to be rather long, so I am posting it in two parts.
This is (alas) fiction, erotic fiction, and should not be read by
anyone under 18 or anyone who does not enjoy thinking about the
edges of eros, exploring those shadowy corners where secret
delights hides. It concerns spanking, anal intercourse,
masturbation, but more than anything else, the delightful freedom
which complete humiliation brings to the most willful and proud
individuals. It is only the strongest who can truly enjoy
humiliation.
*
LUCIO AT COLLEGE: THE ALGERNON SWINBURNE SOCIETY
PART ONE
When I left home for the first time to attend college, my
sister, Carissima, afraid my attention to my studies might flag
without her stern disciplinary presence, pulled some strings and
saw to it that I was immediately accepted into the most exclusive
club on campus, The Algernon Swinburne Society.
The A.S.S. was a venerable institution which encouraged the
pursuit of excellence by all its members through some tried but
true persuasive techniques. It had formerly been exclusively
male, but the year before my arrival had begun accepting female
members. The transition had gone smoothly, chiefly because those
attracted to membership in our society tended to be more
intelligent and more naturally disciplined than the average
student. It was necessary however, with this new mixture of the
sexes, to make perfectly clear what were acceptable and
unacceptable activities within the premises of the club. It must
be remembered, our leaders told us, that the aim of the society
was the molding of character, and not simply the indulgence in any
sort of erotic activity. For that reason, it was necessary for
any fellow of the Society, whether male or female, to adhere to
the three "pillars" of the Society, represented by the initials,
F.M.B.
These stood for Flagellation, Masturbation and Buttfucking.
For decades these were the three magic activities which had
allowed fellows in the society to concentrate their will and
energy on succeeding in the rough and tumble world of collegiate
life. With the addition of women fellows, other activities had
suggested themselves, but our leader had wisely decided to stick
with these three traditional "pillars", if for no other reason
than it allowed each member to be equally dealt with. So it was
explicitly forbidden for a male and female member to engage in
what we termed "standard version" fucking. Everything must be
"high church" (our own argot for buttfucking).
"High churching" was the only of these activities new to me.
After some initial trepidation, I soon grew accustomed to being
either the giver or receiver of this service. As for the other
two, I was more than familiar with each
Being basically romantic by nature, it was not long before I
developed an awful crush on a fellow member, a young woman a year
older than me named Evie. She was small, with short light brown
hair and a face which exuded cleverness. Each afternoon she would
confidently stride into the clubhouse, place herself against one
of the punishment horses, skirt up, knickers down, and call out
for someone to give her ten of the best. I was too shy to oblige
her at the time, but made a point to be there every afternoon to
watch. Her eyes seemed to sparkle with a clarity as each blow
landed, and her expression would be placid, almost haughty,
throughout her ordeal. Afterwards, I would repair to one of the
masturbation lounges and jerk off, thinking of her clever pretty
face and plump glowing bottom.
One afternoon I had the lounge to myself. I was leisurely
approaching a climax when she walked in. "Wait," she said,
looking at my straining cock. "Not yet. That is, if you don't
mind. I hate to masturbate alone. Would you mind awfully holding
back a bit, so I might catch up."
Having been raised as a gentleman, I stopped my stroking and
said, "Wouldn't mind a bit. Have a seat."
"Sitting is rather awkward right at the moment." I
understood. A few moments before I had watched her being paddled
by another young woman member with whom she was friendly, Angela.
She perched herself on the edge of a chair, with her still glowing
bottom hanging over the edge. Soon her skirt was up and her
fingers plunged between her legs. "Can you see all right?" she
asked.
"Yes, thanks, lovely," I said, slowly resuming my stroking.
"I know you like to watch. I've noticed you're there every
day when I get my licking."
"Yes, you take it awfully well."
"As do you. I saw you get yours one day last week."
"Well," I said, "I'm used to it." And I told her about my
sister, Carissima and of the frequent spankings I had received
from her.
"That's funny," she said, "I have an older brother who likes
to spank me. He started in on me when I was five years old." She
mentioned a name which I recognized as one of the society's past
presidents. "Of course, he didn't 'high church' me until I was
nine," she added.
At this point conversation ceased and we concentrated on the
business at hand. She was quite energetic and somewhat noisy. At
one point she produced a tiny leather flogger and began whipping
her pussy, all the while vigorously pumping her hips up and down.
The sweetest cries of excitement issued from her lovely mouth.
The combination of these sights and sounds proved too much for me.
No longer able to hold back, I stroked vigorously until my cock
gushed forth hot spurts of come. I saw her eyes widen at the
sight of this. She dropped the flogger and both her hands went
diligently to work between her legs. Soon a long sweet sigh
escaped her lips and I perceived she had joined me in that sweet
moment of bliss.
As we were cleaning ourselves with the fluffy towels always
left in the lounge for that purpose, I complimented her on her
exuberant style of masturbation.
"I'm not always that noisy. One must think of roommates,
and so forth. My roommate is not one of us."
I was puzzled. "What does that matter?"
"Well, I have a jolly wank each night before I go to sleep
and then again in the morning before I get up."
"In your dorm room?"
"Yes, of course."
"But Evie, you know it is against the rules for a member of
the society to engage in masturbation anywhere except within the
society's premises."
"I know, Lucio, but at the end of a long day a girl doesn't
much feel like traipsing all the way over here just for a simple
wank."
"Perhaps you don't 'feel' like doing it, but these are the
rules, Evie. If you feel like masturbating before you go to
sleep, the proper thing to do, would be to get dressed and come
over here to do it. I know it doesn't sound as attractive as
simply lazing in bed with your fingers pressed against your clit,
but being a member of this society is not about taking the easy
way out. The whole purpose of this society is the maintenance of
discipline. You put me in a difficult position. If I don't
report you I make myself quite as guilty as you. But if I do
report you, you might very well be expelled, and that would pain
me very much."
"Expelled! Surely they wouldn't do that?" Her normally
serene countenance was filled with anxiety. (And I must admit to
experiencing some sadistic pleasure in producing this look of pain
and terror on her face, although I had not done it intentionally.)
"It is quite possible," I said sadly.
For a moment she was silent, but I could see her brilliant
mind was racing for a solution. At last she said, "I have an
idea, Lucio, that could solve your problem." (How clever she was
to make it "my" problem.) "I see now you are perfectly correct,
and I regret very much putting you in this moral dilemma. You
wish to do the right thing, to adhere to the spirit of the laws of
this society. At the same time, you fear that if you inform on
me, I shall be expelled, and in that case we could no longer
engage in the lovely pastime which we have just completed.
Furthermore, I perhaps flatter myself in assuming you would miss
the daily spectacle of my bare bottom being soundly spanked,
caned, paddled, etc.. You are correct in believing I am worthy
of punishment. But you are also correct in believing that the
likely punishment would make us both dreadfully unhappy. So my
solution is this: you must punish me, Lucio. You must take this
burden on yourself. It is up to you to mete out justice. I must
be punished severely. And it must transcend the physical. You
have seen how I stand up to the roughest caning. It must be more
than that. You must humiliate me. Humiliate me completely."
I was silent. The clever girl knew of course how attractive
this would sound to me. To be singled out in this manner to be
her chief tormentor, her grand inquisitor, was, apart from the
sadistic pleasure it offered, tremendously gratifying to my ego.
I agreed.
We made plans to meet in the late afternoon the next day.
This would be the time the greatest number of members would be
present to witness whatever humiliation I could plan for her. As
we left, I was somber -- she had placed a great burden on my
shoulders: how could I come up with a sufficient punishment to
humiliate this proud beauty? She, on the other hand, was now
quite relaxed. The same sly look of sublime contentment had
returned to her face. It would be my job to wipe this away.
As I walked her back to her dorm, she chattered away
cheerfully about her first introduction to the cane. It had
occurred when she had been thirteen. Her brother had gone off to
college, but usually returned home for the weekends. He would
arrive late Friday night, often after she had gone to bed. Early
the next morning he would appear in her bedroom. It was on one of
those bright weekend mornings that she had first set eye on a
rattan cane.
He had borrowed it from the Swinburne Society. It looked
such a fragile thing, that when he first applied it to her
backside she could scarcely believe the exquisite pain it offered.
The routine, she explained, became this:
He would come into her room early in the morning and awaken
her by roughly pulling down the covers. Without a word, she would
respond by pulling her nightgown up to her waist and rolling over
on one side in a semi-fetal position, with her bottom twisted
slightly upwards at the edge of the bed. He would calmly
pronounce the word, "Present." At the sound of those two
syllables, she would immediately arch her back, thrusting with a
jerk her bottom towards him. The searing smack of the cane would
promptly follow. There would be a pause. He might run his hand
over the red area which the cane had kissed. Then again he would
calmly order, "Present," and the process would be repeated. She
always got at least ten, sometimes more.
When it was clear no more blows were coming, still curled up
on her side, she would begin to finger herself. He watched her
without comment. Was he stroking his cock? She never knew. She
did not look at him. Her head was pressed to the mattress, her
eyes closed. But it gave her pleasure to know she did this thing
in front of him. He would allow her to climax, and then he would
say simply, "Knees." She would obey by getting on her hands and
knees facing away from him. Then he would buttfuck her. When he
had first begun doing this to her, when she was nine, it would be
over quickly. Now that he was a college man, however, he took his
time. Grasping her tightly around the waist, he would screw her
long and hard. Once he had come, he would pull out of her as
quickly as he had entered, leaving the room without another word.
She would often stay in that position for a long time after
he had left her, on her knees, her head resting perhaps on the
mattress. In the deep calm of the early morning, she liked the
feel of his gooey semen seeping out of her anus, sliding down her
naked thigh.
She loved the cane. She loved it for what it taught her.
It occurred to her that when he said, "Present," it was less of a
command and more of a suggestion. How she adored those two
syllables. It was her reaction to this simple word which brought
on the luxurious smack of the cane. She was sure he would not
strike if she did not respond with that quick fierce arching of
her back, the jutting out of her bottom. Of course, she had never
in her life failed to respond to this "suggestion", so her
assumption that he would not act without this response was pure
theory. It occurred to her that he was more of an accomplice than
a tormentor. It was she who terrorized him -- or rather, her ass.
"Even when a child, this ass of mine so frightened him that he had
to spank it constantly simply to keep its perfect organic
convexity from overwhelming him. And then once I began to go
through puberty, and it ripened with my swelling hips, it proved
so terrifying to him that he could only approach it with that
fearsome weapon, the cane. What a seat of power a plump round
bottom is!"
She said this while standing in the doorway of her dorm
building, looking over her shoulder at me, a sly smile on her
face. The bottom, of which she was so proud, faced me. Tomorrow I
would confront the tremendous challenge of this ass. Was I up to
it? My eyes were riveted on its swelling presence beneath her
skirt. It was a daunting prospect.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
(c) 1997 Lucio
From us001096@mindspring.com Mon Mar 17 16:49:30 1997
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: The Algernon Swinburne Society (Part 2)
From: us001096@mindspring.com (Lucio)
Date: Mon, 17 Mar 1997 21:49:30 GMT
--------
As someone has lately been advertsing ersatz Lucio stories, I
thought it was time to write another adventure of my alter ego.
It got to be rather long, so I am posting it in two parts.
This is (alas) fiction, erotic fiction, and should not be read by
anyone under 18 or anyone who does not enjoy thinking about the
edges of eros, exploring those shadowy corners where secret
delights hides. It concerns spanking, anal intercourse,
masturbation, but more than anything else, the delightful freedom
which complete humiliation brings to the most willful and proud
individuals. It is only the strongest who can truly enjoy
humiliation.
*
LUCIO AT COLLEGE: THE ALGERNON SWINBURNE SOCIETY
PART TWO
When I arrived at the Algernon Swinburne Society the next
afternoon, I was gratified to see that Evie had dressed herself in
a very plain manner. She usually wore the most stylish and
expensive clothing, but today she was dressed almost frumpishly in
a long plain cotton skirt which came down below her knees, a white
sleeveless blouse with peter pan collar, white ankle socks and
clunky brown shoes. She was playing at being penitent.
To begin with, I had her pull up her skirt and gather it in her
hands in front of her. I was pleased to see she wore plain cotton
panties of a sky blue color. "Should I pull my knickers down to
my knees?" she asked.
"Quiet, girl. No one is asking you for suggestions. Just do
what you're told."
"Yes, sir."
I grabbed her tightly by her bare upper arm and led her from
room to room in the clubhouse, so that everyone would see her in
this condition. I instructed her that she was to make confessions
as we perambulated through the spacious quarters of the club.
Submissively gazing down at the floor, her skirt held up above
her waist, she said to one person, "My brother buttfucked me when
I was nine -- and I loved it."
"So what?" came the reply.
Then to another, "When I was twelve, I lay naked in the bathtub
while my best girlfriend pissed all over my face. It was
delicious."
"Who cares?"
And so I led her sternly around the various rooms of the club
so that she could make these outrageous confessions (some of which
were true, others not). They all were met with bemused
indifference. She confessed to everything except for the actual
sin for which she was being punished. And so she compounded her
sinfulness with this devious behavior. I knew this and she knew
that I knew this. That made it all the more enjoyable for the
both of us. Even as her punishment began she had sunk even lower
into a glorious unending depravity. What a girl! I had already
fallen hopelessly in love with her. That made me want to hurt her
all the more.
I led her back to the primary "swishing" room. I had enlisted
her friend, Angela in this endeavor. She had reserved a centrally
placed punishment horse, and was waiting by it. She held in her
hands something which resembled a bunch of flowers wrapped in
paper.
"Angela has something for you," I said.
Angela smiled sweetly and, unwrapping the paper, revealed a
tightly bound bunch of supple birch twigs. "I worked on it all
morning," she said.
Evie stared straight ahead. "What do you say, girl?" I spoke
sharply.
"Thank you, Angela, for the birch to whip my bottom."
"Yeah, sure -- kiss my ass."
Evie lowered her head, surprised by Angela's last remark.
"Well?" I said.
Evie looked at me with a puzzled expression.
"Angela made a request of you, and you just stand there like an
idiot peasant girl."
"Oh," she said. "Yes, of course -- I see."
She got down on her knees. Angela turned her back to her.
Evie raised Angela's skirt, pulled down her panties and kissed the
flesh of one buttock.
"That's the most pathetic ass kiss I ever saw," I said.
For a split second I saw a look of irritation pass across her
face. But she quickly suppressed it, and dutifully said, "Yes
sir, you're right, sir. I'll try to do better. Can I let go of
my skirt, sir? I think I'll need both hands."
I gave her permission to do so. She dropped her skirt and put
both her hands up against the flesh of Angela's buttocks. Then
slowly she parted them, and with a sublime look on her face placed
the tenderest of kisses directly on the puckered ring of Angela's
anus.
A sigh could be heard escaping from Angela's lips.
"Another," I ordered.
This kiss was even longer and Angela's sigh deeper.
"The third will be the charm," I said.
Her lips were pressed tightly to Angela's anus and I suspect
the flickering insertion of a tongue for Angela said suddenly,
"Oooh!"
"That will do."
She looked up at me, licking her lips, her face still full of a
subtle serene pride. Meanwhile Angela was striding away, her
panties still lowered, shaking her head and muttering, "Jesus!
Somebody buttfuck me, I'm horny as a sailor!"
I pulled Evie to her feet. "Now you can take your panties
off." I left her to get something from a cabinet placed against
one wall. When I returned, her panties were down around her
ankles, her skirt, as before, gathered up in her hands. "I said,
take them off, not pull them down. You stupid girl -- can't
follow a simple instruction."
As she bent down to pull her panties off, I put what I had
gotten from the cabinet onto the horse. Holding her panties in
one hand, she rose and looked with undisguised displeasure at what
she saw there. There, sitting on the horse, were thick leather
cuffs for her wrists and ankles.
I knew she would not like this and I knew why. It was not the
thought of being bound. It was the implication it presented, the
implication that she was a silly flighty girl who needed to be
restrained in order to take her punishment. I bound her to the
horse, each arm stretched along the length of it and bound to a
ring at the end. Her ankles were spread and bound to rings at the
bottom of opposing legs of the horse. I lifted up her skirt again,
displaying her naked bottom. She said nothing as I did this, but
I was pleased to see a repressed rage seep into her face. She did
not mind traipsing around the club "confessing" to all sort of
indignities with her skirt raised above her waist, she did not
mind soul kissing a fellow member's ass, but the thought that her
fellow members would stroll by and see her so inelegantly bound to
the horse in a way in which she could not proudly demonstrate her
willingness to be there was unbearable to her.
Angela had placed the bunch of birch twigs on a stool. I
pulled it in front of the horse, so that she could contemplate
this instrument of punishment. Or more importantly, so that
others would think she were required to do so. She was bound so
tightly to the horse that she could not move her body at all, but
she raised her head and looked at me with a face full of fury.
I laughed. Passing behind her, I patted her bottom softly.
This gave me an idea. I continued to pat her bottom playfully as
though this were her real spanking. "Take that, you bad girl," I
said, as I gave the softest of pats to her ass. I heard laughter
from others in the room. "Let her have it, Lucio!" someone
chuckled. "Bad girl, bad girl," I kept saying while giving her
this pathetic non-spanking. Finally, when the laughter had died
down, I said, "You know, Evie, I was so busy getting ready for
this, that I had no chance to eat lunch today. If you don't mind,
I think I'll go out for an early supper, and we can finish this
later." She said nothing. "You don't mind do you, Evie?"
"No, sir," she said, her voice mechanical and full of
bitterness.
"Ah good, I promise I won't be more than an hour or two.
You'll be all right here?"
"Yes, sir," she hissed.
Before I left, I took a lipstick from her bag and wrote with it
in bright red letters across the pale expanse of her bottom,
"Molest me!"
I stood back, looking with satisfaction at my handiwork, and
then left for a leisurely meal with some fellow members.
When I returned, I saw that the lipstick writing on her bottom
was all smeared. "While you were gone, I was buttfucked a dozen
times," she said.
"A dozen? Really? A dozen exactly?"
"I don't know, I lost count after awhile. I know Angela had at
me with a strap-on at least three times." She spoke of this with
no bitterness, only a certain amazement. Her time spent strapped
to the horse had softened her. I could not help feeling a great
fondness for her at that moment. She asked, with a fetching
innocence, "Lucio, is it going to begin now? Are you really going
to let me have it?"
"Yes, my dear, dear, Evie. I am really going to give it to
you. Have no fear."
"But Lucio, one thing I don't think you thought of -- excuse my
impertinence for saying so -- but I've been strapped here for over
two hours and I really have to pee. I don't think, once you let
in on me that I'll be able to hold it in."
"Well," I said. "My, my -- that's an interesting thought."
"That's all you can say?"
"My dear Evie, it is really none of my business if you feel it
necessary to piss all over yourself and the floor of this
clubhouse. I am simply doing what you asked me to do. Is this
not what you asked of me?"
There was silence, and then in a quavering voice, low and
completely lacking in resentment, she said, "Yes, Lucio, this is
what I asked of you."
Ah, I was overwhelmed with affection for this poor wounded
animal! It is good that she did not look up at me and see the
unmasked desire which filled my face at the sound of her voice on
the edge of tears.
I took a deep breath and collected myself. I picked up the
birch which lay on the stool and then put it down. "No," I said,
I don't think this will do."
Against the wall which fronted the row of punishment horses
were hung a collection of canes. I made a point of walking up and
down this row, as if considering which, if any, I should choose.
It was all show. I had made my decision earlier. Hanging in a
dusty corner was the smallest and most slender of all the canes in
the club. I took it down and held it in my hands. Discolored and
slightly crooked, it was of uncertain age. Some thought it had
hung in this dusty corner of the Swinburne Society since before
the turn of the century. While it looked the most innocuous of
all the canes hanging on the wall, I knew that a connoisseur like
Evie would take one look at it and abandon all hope. I glanced at
her and saw her frightened eyes following its every movement in my
hands. If I lifted it, her eyes raised; if I lowered it, her eyes
lowered. I believe if I had tossed it out the window, her eyes
would have popped out of her head and followed it.
I came back to her and stroked her hair. "Courage," I said,
with genuine feeling. She saw me pass behind the horse, out of
her field of vision and she knew there would be no more stay of
execution. I put my left hand on her back and lightly touched the
cane to her bottom, holding it there for a moment.
There was time for one more terrible humiliating trick. I
pulled the cane back and delivered a blow, not very hard, but just
hard enough that she might think it were the real thing. I heard
her gasp and then release her breath, relieved that she had taken
this first blow well.
And then I gave her a real one. With unbelievable wickedness,
the slender rattan bit into her soft flesh. She cried out and at
the same time let out a heavy stream of piss which clattered
loudly on the hardwood floor. There was some laughter from the
large gallery which had gathered to see this proud beauty's
humiliation, but this ceased quickly when I delivered the second
strike of the cane. She gave out a heart rending moan, resonant
with shame and suffering, and began to weep loudly. All the
while, she continued to piss herself.
When the last drops had run down her leg, I crossed to the
front of the horse, and with my hand, beneath her chin, raised her
weeping head. She looked up at me, her lovely eyes flooded with
tears. So enraptured was she by the moment that she could only
sigh to me in French, "Oh Lucio, je t'aime absolutement et
eternellement, mon doux, doux monstre."
I replied, "Moi aussi, ma abjecte putain malodorante."
"Malodorante," she repeated, "Oui, oui, c'est vrais." And her
tears became mixed with a soft fluid laughter.
Laughter which died in a howl of pain as the narrow cane again
kissed her bottom.
Each stroke I delivered as if it were the last, the coup de
grace. But each false coup de grace was followed by another. I
do not know how many I delivered. I stopped only when another
club member seized the cane out of my hand. "She's bleeding too
much," he said softly. "That's enough, Lucio."
Someone came with a towel to wipe the blood off her ass, but
she shouted, "No! It's mine!"
I unstrapped her from the horse. She fell into my arms. I
picked her up and carried her into another room, where she could
at last be away from the prying mocking faces which had watched
her humiliation. I put her down on a couch, carefully lying on
her side. There was a gentleness in her face as she gazed at me,
a sweet calm. She pulled me toward her and kissed me delicately
on each cheek. "Oh, Lucio, what a sweet boy you are."
"Monster," I said. "You called me a monster."
"Yes, you are my monster, my very own sweet lovely monster. I
adore you so desperately. Lucio, come close, I have to whisper
something in your ear."
I put my ear up against her lips and felt them move as she
breathed out, "Lucio, I want you to pussyfuck me."
I backed away. "But that is absolutely forbidden!"
"Shh," she said. She looked at me and I saw that same old sly
smile creep back across her tear streaked face. "I know," she
said.
How could I refuse this woman. After awhile she got up, and
walked alone proudly through the club, limping slightly, the blood
soaked through the back of her skirt. She left without a word. A
few minutes later I slipped out and met her in the quadrangle. As
she leaned back against a railing, I fucked her poor wounded body,
right there, out in the open, on a bright moonlit night, where
anyone could see us.
No one did see us. At least not that night. But we continued
this nocturnal sinful behavior, secure in the knowledge that we
could punish each other for it during the day at the Swinburne.
Eventually, of course, we were discovered, banging against a trash
can in some dirty alleyway, her legs up around my waist. We were
expelled from the Swinburne Society without appeal.
This seemed the death knell of our love. There seemed no point
in continuing, now that our fucking would have no consequence, now
that we had no sinful secrets to hide and nourish together. We
stopped seeing each other.
I of course wrote to Carissima telling her the whole sad story.
Strangely enough, she had no comment. I thought she would be
dreadfully angry with me for being tossed out of the Swinburne
Society.
The winter was cold and lonely. I applied myself to my studies
and led a monk's existence. I did not go home for Christmas
vacation, staying in my room and working alone through those
dreary days. But I was going home for Spring break. I was very
interested in what Carissima would say about my affair with Evie.
I could not believe that she would let the entire incident pass
unnoticed.
And then, a few weeks before Spring break, I saw Evie walking
toward me across the quad. She held a letter in her hand. I knew
the stationary. "I've received a letter from your sister," she
said. "She has suggested that I come down during Spring break."
"Really," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "And what will
you do?"
She smiled. "Really, Lucio, all I know of your sister,
Carissima, I have learned from you. So you tell me -- what does
one do when summoned by Carissima?"
I laughed. "One obeys."
(c) 1997 Lucio