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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 Story Of T

Arrival At The Institute

The Dominafuhrer

The New Recruit

The Sacred Feminine

The Sacred Feminine


An Introduction

VO Stories

Miss Malcahy's Detention
Nine and a Half Hours

The Weight Loss

I Sign A Contract

The Convict

The Convict/My Prison Folder


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



A Visit to Greenwich

24638037, 24638037, 24680373.

I must remember this number if I can’t get it into my head I will suffer!

What is this all about?

I am walking from the station to my 2nd visit to Miss Spiteful and I know this is going to be a memorable visit.

My first visit for Judicial Punishment was some months ago, as a first offender I received 36 strokes of the whip across my back plus a further 6 for insubordination, 42 in all.

Painful but I have had worse.

I took them without screaming out or begging for mercy.

But this time would be different.

I had been caught offending again and this time I was due 50 strokes.

I reached the door and rang the bell.

No response!

Had I been heard? Dare I ring again?

After what seemed an eternity but was probably only a few seconds the door opened, and unseen voice said “Enter”.

The door closed and Miss Spiteful in full Gestapo uniform confronted me.

“Who are you and state your business”

I stammer a response I could not remember my prisoner number but I get out my name “Turner J Ma’am reporting as ordered”

“Not good enough! You were told to report with you full number and you are late!

Where are your papers?”

I pass over an envelope containing the information on my offences, reports from psychologists, social workers, etc. and not least my sentence.

These were the result of email correspondence between us detailing my fantasies and what was to be expected during the visit

Miss Spiteful opens the files and reads them,

“So you have been up to your tricks again and you are here to be taught a lesson”

“Turn round hands behind your back”

I feel handcuffs being snapped around my wrists.

“You know the drill. Upstairs”

I go up the stairs to the punishment room closely followed by Miss Spiteful.

“Stand still and don’t you dare move”

Miss Spiteful leaves the room.

I look around, in front of me is a whipping cross in the corner is a whipping bench and I am surrounded by all the paraphernalia to be expected, straps, hoods, gags and not least an array of canes and whips.

I hear footsteps.

Miss Spiteful returns the handcuffs are released.

“Clothes off, into prison uniform”

I struggle to swiftly comply.

The Prison uniform is a shapeless 2 piece pyjama like garment in striped cloth topped with a hat which is deliberately made too small to fit.

The whole ensemble is designed to humiliate the wearer and in this it suceeds.

“Stand to attention and face the wall.

You are here to be taught a lesson and by God a lesson you will learn.

You will receive 50 strokes of this whip and there will be no mercy.”

I am shown the whip that is to be used a vicious single tail sjamboek.

“Does this scare you?”

“Yes ma’am”, I stammer”

“Well you asked for it by re-offending,”

Miss Spiteful reaches for a pump up gag, roughly forces it into my mouth and inflates it firmly. This is followed by a lace up hood which is severely tightened and the eye slots closed. I am totally enclosed and beginning to get excited. My uniform Jacket is removed and I am roughly pushed to the wall cross and securing begins.

First the left wrist, then the right, followed by the ankles all firmly secured by cuffs and chains.

I am now definitely excited and a bulge is showing under my uniform trousers.

The wrist and ankle straps are now supplemented by a broad strap around my waist and further straps on my forearms. More straps are now secured around my thighs, in fixing these Madam’s hand brushes against my erection, by now I am fully excited and waiting for the punishment to begin.

“ What is this?”

“Are you getting some perverted pleasure from this?”

“Disgusting wretch. I will have to deal with this”

At this point madam starts to masturbate me, despite my efforts to resist by struggling against my bonds I am slowly and expertly brought to a shattering climax, screaming into my gag and thrashing about in my bonds.

“Good, now we can start the real business. You have one minute to compose yourself and then the punishment will start 50 strokes in batches of 10.”

I am now totally drained, sexually satisfied and scared witless.

I am going to have to endure 50 strokes but without the sexual drive the last thing I want is to endure pain, but the deal is once I step over the threshold I have to take the punishment decreed and there will be no mercy.

This is exactly what I had asked for and I am going to have to take it!

The minute was up.

The first stroke came crashing across my back, I groaned.

The second stroke, laid exactly over the first, I screamed in both pain and pleasure.

By God this woman is good!

The 3rd again a scream but as I was muffled by the gag and the hood I doubt if it was heard and if it was I could expect no mercy, due process of law, 50 stokes was the sentence and 50 strokes I would receive!

The 4th, the 5th, the 6th, the 7th, the 8th the 9th and finally the 10th stroke came.

By now I was screaming in pain at every stroke and I did not care who heard it, any element of pleasure had passed, I wanted out I could take no more.

A few second rest and then the second batch, no word from my tormentor, just the swish of the whip before it cut into my back.

1, 2, 3 now I am really scared and begging for mercy, calling out “I can’t take it today no more please!”

The response, the swish of the whip for strokes 4, 5, 7, 8, 9 and 10.

By now I have lost count, was that 20 or 30.

Swish, crack, the first of the next batch, I strain at the bonds but I am too securely bound,

Swish, the 2nd hits home I pull harder on the restraints to get away and scream at the top of my voice Please no more”, again no response.

The strokes continue, I am no longer trying to count, just trying to get away from the pain.

God if I survive this I will never visit a dominatrix again, this has well and truly cured me.

A respite then it starts again, I am screaming at every stroke, I don’t know where I am in the sentence.

“That is your 50”

I breath a sigh of relief it is over I have survived.

“However you failed to remember your prisoner number and you were late so you will get another 10”.

“Please no", I scream.

No avail, the strokes begin, by now I am sobbing uncontrollably, this is pure torture.

The whip swishes again 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10.

Another huge sigh of relief at last I can be free.

“I need to take a semen sample and if you are not quick you will get another 10.”

I feel Madam’s hand around my penis, my cock is totally flaccid, and I had had a shattering orgasm earlier and had endured 60 strokes of the whip.

There was nothing there and absolutely no response.

After what seemed like only a few seconds Madam gave up trying to coax life into my organ.

“Well you asked for it; you were not quick enough”.

“Another 10.”

How I survived the last 10 I do not know all dignity had gone I was a sobbing broken man.

“I shall try for that sample again and if no response you will get another 10, the choice is yours”

Again Madam’s hand around my penis but this time she is determined to succeed with the sample.

Slowly I feel my organ hardening this time she will be successful thank God! I can take no more of the whip.

Please! Please! Let me come, YES! YES! I am coming, More! More!

Finally it is over and I collapse into the bonds.

I feel the straps being released, can I still stand?

Yes but I am shaking all over and sweating profusely.

“Stand still I need some photographs for my records.”

Finally the Hood and gag are removed and I stand blinking in the light

Session over and out of role Miss Spiteful ceases to live up to her name, my bruises are attended to, I am offered a shower and over a cup of coffee we discuss the session.

I go back to my original opinion Miss Spiteful is good, definitely the best I have met.

On the train home despite the pain I am already planning my next visit!


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