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An Introduction
Julia's Way
The Long Way
A Wee Drop
Club Night
The Welcome

The Stories of Yvonne Sinclair

Alice And Anna
On The Beach
The Bisley Boy
Silk Stockings On A Ladder
A Merry Ferry Christmas
Stella and Fanny

The Sacred Feminine

The Sacred Feminine

The Dominafuhrer

The New Recruit

The Story Of T

Arrival At The Institute

VO Stories

Miss Malcahy's Detention
Nine and a Half Hours

The Weight Loss

I Sign A Contract

The Convict

The Convict


A Caning By Miss Spiteful
Always On The Bare
A Visit To Greenwich
At My Lady's Pleasure
Ball Shackle Story
I Met Claire In A Coffee Shop
Judicial Bastinado
Kevin's Poem
Long Weekend
Long Weekend Conclusion
My Visit
Robin's Electrical Torture
Shoeshine Boy
Slave To The Cane
The Basement
The Colony
The Escape Artist
The Huntress Caning
The Language School
The Worm's View
Webb Encounters

The Bossy Bank Women

A Judicial Punishment

The Valkyrie

Episode 1


The Vision
The Agreement
First Blood




An Introduction

This collection of stories was sent to me anonymously. Below is the introduction to the series and there are links to the other stories. I think they are excellent stories and well worth reading.

This a collection of brief episodes in the adult life of Julia. She has developed the art of Domination, fetishism and SM to a level unparalleled in the known history of the subjects.

She was born in the early years of World War Two, a time of austerity, of Henry Hall and Dick Barton on the wireless, of the utility mark, of ration books. Of children who grew up with respect and discipline, discipline imposed if not self-generated. Whilst Julia was not a fundamentally bad child, she could be difficult. Very difficult.

They had been out shopping on her fourteenth birthday. The war had been over for eight years but things were only just returning to what her parents remembered as normal. There were more things in the shops although money was still in very short supply and it had been decided that Julia should have a new raincoat for her birthday. At that stage in her life this represented a generous present, something she would cherish. But she had no idea quite how cherished it would become.

She chose an ice blue one to try on. It was not a cold day but the coat felt oddly cool as she put her hands into the sleeves. She had never felt material like this before and wondered how it would feel over her short sleeved dress. The material slithered smoothly up her bare arms up to her shoulders and, as she pulled the mac round her and fastened the belt it made an exciting swishing and crackling noise. There was a strong odour of rubber which added to the strangeness of the experience. It was all quite frightening and she wasn't sure if she really wanted this. But both parents, and the shop assistant, said how well it suited her and seemed quite unaware of her odd feeling. So Julia's first rubber-lined macintosh was bought.

At first she always made sure she never wore it over short sleeves. It frightened her. But it also fascinated her. She wanted to look at it. She would feel the smooth lining in her hand and stroke the inside of the mac. She decided not to keep it in the hall with the rest of the outdoor clothes but took it up to her bedroom and added it to the collection of dresses and other garments in her wardrobe. There was something about having it there, having it close to her. But she needed to open the wardrobe when she wanted to see it. She had a better idea. She hung it on the hook on the back of her bedroom door, where her dressing gown lived. If she hung it over the gown she could see it all the time she was in the room, and every time she wanted the gown the mac had to be moved. It would swish, crackle and smell of rubber each time she moved it and she would always hold it so she could feel the lining in her hand. Sometimes she could smell the rubber anyway, often when she was lying awake at night. The presence dominated her room. And her mind.

Julia's parents were strict but fair. Julia was entering adolescence, a phase which often brought her into conflict with them. Such was the case on the Defining Day. She had been cheeky and generally difficult all day, had refused to do her homework and had sneaked away after dinner to avoid having to help with the washing up. She had decided to have an early bath and could be heard running hot water and splashing around in the bathroom. She knew she was in trouble but had, once again, neatly avoided the confrontation with her father. She dried off after her bath, wrapped herself in the towel and returned to her room. Closing the door she released the towel and went for her dressing gown. She lifted the macintosh from the hook. It crackled; she could feel its odour in her nostrils, she could imagine the smooth rubber inside it. Or could she? She hesitated, holding the mac in her hand, then slowly opened it to gaze on the cool lining. She stroked her hand over it, the odour was stronger, the feel seductive. She was, far more than normally, very conscious of her nakedness. With a mixture of excitement and trepidation she started to do what she had previously considered unthinkable, inserting her arms into its sleeves and, as there was no way she could resist any more, she pulled the macintosh round her naked body. The effect was indescribable, electric, the smoothness as the rubber slithered all over her and, as she hugged it to herself, the slightest movement caused even more of it to caress her somewhere. She tightened the belt, flinching as the cold rubber encircled her waist, fastened it up to the very top and turned up the collar. There was a full length mirror on the landing and she sneaked out of the bedroom to see how she looked.

"There you are! Come down here at once!" Her father's stern voice from the hallway below hit her. She wondered what she could do but it was too late. He was already at the foot of the stairs, threatening to come up and fetch her. She turned and hesitantly descended. "Come with me" he commanded, grabbing her arm and pulling her into the lounge. I've warned you often enough and you've taken no notice. You've ignored my requests and been cheeky all day. You've skipped washing up, not done your homework and now I find you trying to sneak out without my knowing. Well, that's going just too far. Come here". He grabbed her and pulled her across his knee. He was not a cruel man so he left the thin mac in place, pulling it tightly round her ample buttocks, so the punishment would not be too severe what with the thick skirt, tights and knickers she always wore when she went out, especially on a cold night like tonight. But for the same reason the strokes would need to be as hard as he could make them and he commenced, making his hand tingle. After the first few strokes Julia was screaming and crying. He gave her twenty. "Go back to your room and stay there" he commanded. "Don't you dare come down again tonight".

Julia slunk back upstairs and shut herself in her bedroom. She lay face down on the bed. The spanking had been unbearable, the thin mac offering virtually no protection from that heavy hand and her buttocks were on fire. There was none of the underwear her father had been sure would protect her from the worst of it. The fire seemed to fill her whole body. But the mac was still cool, she was still wearing it, it helped to make the pain a little more bearable as she became conscious of the enclosing rubber once more. She wriggled a little; it was exciting to feel the lining slithering about her, especially over her now highly sensitive backside. On impulse she leapt into her bed, still wearing the mac. The weight of the bedclothes pushed the mac harder against her naked body. The warmth left by the pain was intensifying vaguely near her buttocks. The rubber felt more rubbery than ever, she tossed and turned, the warm sensation taking over her entire consciousness, she couldn't stop it, she realised she was not in control, something quite foreign to her which both terrified and fascinated her. Slowly the sensations built up until she could stand it no longer, it was unbearable but still she couldn't stop it. Finally she was engulfed in an intensity which had her screaming and thrashing around wildly in the bed, clutching the macintosh round her.

She had had her first orgasm. She lay there, exhausted, amazed, frightened, fascinated and breathing deeply. Her future lifestyle had been set, although she didn't know it. But she knew something had changed . . .


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