The following fictional story is being reposted by Mr Double. If you are the author of this story and would like to receive proper recognition (an Author's Page at my website at: http://pw1.netcom.com/~mrdouble/main/stories.html), please contact me at mrdouble@ix.netcom.com. I'm sure that by now you're sick and tired of all these smug little notices authors of S&M and non-consensual sex stories have been putting at the top of their files. But just in case you aren't, here's another one: WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! THIS STORY CONTAINS S&M AND NON-CONSENSUAL SEX IF YOU DON"T LIKE THIS SHIT, THEN DON'T READ IT! END OF WARNING NOLA1.TXT "The Beginning" "By Curt Strap" My name is Nola. I am in grade six. I have a really good friend, Natashia, who is in grade eight. We do most things together. We sometimes hang out with a boy, Paul, who is in grade four. We've played together for almost four years; tag, hide and seek, and similar games. Now we sometimes play cowboys and indians in the woods with some of the other kids in school. After seeing some movies, it was inevitable that we would end up tying up the prisoners. And we did. I know I wasn't the first one tied. And the boys were tied just like the girls. I do remember the first time I was tied; I was afraid. But when they tied my hands behind me and marched me to the Indian camp, I lost all my fear. In fact, I sort of liked it. We played several more times, over the spring, summer and fall before I was found out. It was Natashia who said it when the three of us were alone together. "Isn't it strange that you get caught so easily, Nola? I think she enjoys getting tied up," she said to Paul. "Do you, Nola?" They looked at me, smiling, and I knew I had to answer. My first response was a giggle, but then I said, "Whenever you have winners, you have losers. I just sort of get caught in this game a lot!" Paul just shook his head, "Natashia, I think you're right. Nola, be honest with your friends, why do you get caught so easily?" I answered, "Maybe I just don't want to run through the bush?" Paul said, "Nola, You're lying. You like to be tied up." Natashia added, "Well, whatever, it's time for me to get home. Dad said if I was late for supper again this week, I'd get spanked." We looked at her with shock. It was Paul who asked, "Do you still get spanked?" Natashia was fourteen. Taken aback, she answered, "Well, sure. Don't you guys?" We shook our heads. Then I asked, "Who does it to you?" "Well, sometimes it's my mother, but dad does it when I've done something really awful." There was silence as Paul and I thought about it. Spankings were private things, not often talked about, even with friends. It showed how close we were that none of us teased Natashia or even laughed at her. * * * That night I sat in bed, thinking about what was said that day. I finally admitted to myself that I did lose often so I could be tied up. I wondered what that meant. I also wondered about Natashia's spankings. * * * We played cowboys and indians most weekends and I kept losing. * * * One weekend we decided to go for a hike to do something different. We packed our knapsacks and were properly dressed in heavy shirts, jeans and hiking boots. We hiked for about two hours then stopped for a rest. We were laying down when Natashia said, "Hey, I found something at the park the other day. It might interest you, Nola." She handed me a magazine. On the cover was a girl dressed in shorts and a shorty T-shirt. Her wrists were tied in front of her and her elbows were roped together behind her. Her wrists were pulled tightly against her bare belly. Her feet were shackled together with a two foot long chain between the ankles. I just starred at it. When I looked up, I saw Natashia pulling some rope from her knapsack. "Want to try it?" she asked. I shrugged, and then replied, "Why not?" I tried to be calm, but expectation thrilled me. "Okay," she said, "hold out your wrists, Nola." When I obeyed, she continued, "I don't think we want to tie your wrists tightly together. Here, let me do it this way." She wrapped my left wrist three times, then, leaving about three inches of slack, she did the same with my right wrist. Natashia nodded her approval at what she was doing. "Now, Nola," Natashia said, "pull your wrists back against your stomach as tightly as you can." When I had done so, she started to my elbows together behind my back. Natashia stepped in front of me and, after checking how tight my wrists were to my stomach, she said, "Try to move your hands Nola." I did, but found I couldn't move them. She smiled at the look of confusion on my face. "I can't move them, Natashia," I said. She nodded and took the excess rope and wrapped it several times around my wrists. She asked, "Want to try the ankle rope too?" How was I supposed to answer? After a moment's thought, I replied, "Go ahead. I'll give it a try." Very quickly, she had three wraps of rope around my right ankle, She knotted it, then, took the other end and wrapped it around my left boot. When it was knotted, she said, "Take a couple of steps. I don't know if this will work." Gingerly, I took a couple steps. Then I tried a little longer step and nearly stumbled when the ankle rope stopped my progress. Natashia asked, "Want me to take it off?" I shook my head. "No, let me try it a little more." Carefully, I walked around the area. I began to lift my booted feet higher, as if I were walking normally, and found that I could walk easily, although my steps were a little shorter. I stood in front of Natashia and said, "I think I can handle this. Shall we hike?" Off we went, just like any other group of nine, twelve, and fourteen-year-old kids, except the twelve year old was bound and gagged. Paul stayed behind me. I knew he had a thing about a girl's rear end. He was only nine, going on ten, so I didn't mind. He slapped me twice on the bum as we walk and whispered to me that he would like to play this game with just the two of us. I laughed. Then I whispered back, "maybe". I didn't want to hurt his feelings, and perhaps I really would play the game with him. I was tied for almost two hours. It was only when we stopped for lunch, and after Natashia and Paul heated hot-dogs over the campfire, that she removed my ropes. Natashia asked how I felt. I examined the red marks on my wrists and said, "I feel fine. It was really fascinating to hike that way." When we were ready to start back, Paul asked me if I wanted to be tied again. I shook my head, saying, "No, it might not be too good idea going downhill and somebody might see us. Don't worry, you'll get me again," I promised. That summer, I think I was tied thirty times. * * * One day, when Paul wasn't around, Natashia and I decided to get some sun. She asked, "Where'll we go?" Then "will you let me tie you up?" "Sure," was my snappy reply. "Good!" she said, "I got some things in my knapsack, but that rules out the pool," Natashia said. "Why not in old man Lim's backyard?" I suggested. Natashia shrugged. I agreed to ask him. Most kids our age wouldn't go near old Lim. Our parents told us not to talk to him, but, he was always nice to us. He would let us play behind his old barn and didn't tell on us if we made noise or anything. I knocked on his door. Natashia hid behind the garage. She wasn't so sure about him. Most of the time she thought he acted creepy. When he came to the door I asked him if we could play in his yard. He asked me what we were going to play and I told him "cowboys and indians!" He didn't say anything for a moment, just looked at me with his cold black eyes, then he answered. "Go ahead." I murmured a quick thanks and we went out behind his barn. * * * "Lay on your belly, Nola," she instructed. I did. Then, she extended my arms and legs in the form of a huge X. She had tent pegs and a hammer in her knapsack. Natashia hammered pegs into the ground about a foot from the furthest one I could reach. After we had stripped down to our swimsuit's, she wrapped a rope several times around my left wrist. Then she tied the other end of that rope to the peg just beyond my left hand. She did the same with my right wrist. Then, she hauled on my legs so that I was stretched out. After that, she roped my left ankle to one peg and my right out to the other one. "How's that?" Natashia asked enthusiastically, "too tight?" I tried to pull against the ropes. There was no slack. I looked up at her and smiled, "No, this is okay." I lay like that for an hour, then she untied me and turned me over, tying me the same way, except face up. We did the same thing on three other occasions. We didn't even remove the pegs. Sometime after the third time, old man Lim said that he found the four pegs when he was mowing the grass and wondered what they were for. I told him we used them in our game. He didn't say anything else. And he left them there. * * * Nothing much exciting happened during the next two weeks. Other than I was tied a lot. My friend took it for granted now that I enjoyed being tied, and she certainly didn't have any objections. * * * It was late in the week. And I was pegged out in Lim's yard. I was on my belly. Natashia asked me, "Are you reasonably comfortable?" I replied, "Sure. What's up?" "Well, I'm going to leave you for a while. You'll be safe here." I was somewhat suspicious, but I really wasn't too worried. "You won't be gone long, will you? I mean with you here, I've got protection. By myself, I've got nothing." Natashia laughed, and said, "What're you afraid of?" "Oh, every so often, the dog from across the street comes over here. Or maybe old man Lim will come out to see what we're doing." "Don't be a baby, Nola, maybe he will. So what?" Then she left me. I really wasn't too distressed. After all it was Mr. Lim's backyard. Nobody else ever played here. So I just sort of closed my eyes to enjoy the sun's hot rays. I grown so accustomed to being tied like this that I didn't even notice the traction. I felt drowsy and I guess I must have fallen asleep. I awoke with a start, pulling at my bonds, momentarily confused, until I remembered where I was. I had no idea how long I slept. My hands were tingling, which meant that I was tied for about an hour and a half. No big deal: I had been pegged out for two hours once before. I began to wonder where Natashia went. I was startled out of my daydreaming by Lim's voice. "Nola, what are you doing there?" "Oh, Hi Mr. Lim. Just getting some sun." "But you're tied down. Who did this? Here, let me untie you," he said dropping to his knees near my left wrist. I giggled. "Natashia tied me. We do it all the time. You don't need to untie me." Somewhat hesitant, he leaned back on his heels. "Let me get this straight. You're here because your best friend tied you here?" "Yes." "And you're here voluntarily?" "Sort of." "And you do it frequently?" I nodded. I was really embarrassed. If he told anyone... Lim shook his head. Then he smiled. "Have you been tied before?" "Yes, probably ten or twelve times." "So that's what the pegs are really for," he laughed. "Well, if this is what you want, I won't interfere. Just lay back and enjoy it," he said, as he got to his feet and walked away. * * * Natashia returned with Paul. Paul said, "Well, I see Nola's at it again. Enjoying yourself?" he asked, teasingly. "Sure am. How about you? Like what you see?" That was the first time any of us had ever said anything suggestive. Oh sure, we used four letter words like shit and fuck, but we never said anything suggestive. There was silence, then Paul grinned and answered, "Sure do. You look great." I knew he like me tied face down best. He could look at my bum easier that way. There was tension in the air. I turned my head to see Natashia. There was were tears on her face. She was looking right at me. At that moment, I knew I was found out, that my friend, Natashia, knew that I really enjoyed being tied up; just like I knew that she got spanked alot. And I knew that Paul guessed what Natashia and I shared at that moment. * * * It was Paul who suggested it. He said it almost as an afterthought. "Why don't we strip Nola." "No," I yelled. Natashia and Paul discussed it and decided not to, at least, right now. I was really scared they would actually do it. * * * After that time, there were a few more instances when I was tied in Mr. Lim's yard and left there by my friend. Once, I was bound facing a tree. It was big tree so it was just possible to bind my hands together when I wrapped my arms around the tree. My legs were tied in back and in front so that I couldn't move them at all. Fortunately, I was wearing jeans and a long sleeved shirt so the tree bark didn't scratch my skin. Another time, I was tied with my back to the tree and my hands up over my head but together. Then there was the time that my arms were tied up but outward so that I looked like a "Y." Not only were my wrists tied but also my ankles and thighs and belly; and, for the first time, ropes were above and below my budding breasts. I was embarrassed. I complained while Natashia roped my chest but only half-heartedly. Secretly, I was sort of curious to see how it would feel. With my arms stretched upward and outward, it wasn't as easy for me to sag in my ropes as I had before when I was tied upright to something. Also, my wrists got numb sooner. There was enough movement so that I could twist them, and that, combined with flexing my fingers, kept some feeling in my hands. The pressure on my breasts was something else. I was somewhat disappointed but since the ropes were loose, I wondered if it was necessary for them to be tied tighter to get a thrill. I wasn't surprised to see Natashia leave. She had experienced difficulties with first period yesterday. I was not prepared to have Lim come to visit me again. "That's a new way," he said, walking towards me. This casual attitude sort of scared me, but I responded, "It's fine." Then I added, "What do you want?" "Oh, I thought I would find you here. Are you okay?" "Yeah, I'm okay. What did you mean, you thought you'd find me here?" "Well, it wasn't hard to figure out. I saw Natashia leave and, since you weren't with her, I thought you might not be able to." I nodded. What he said made sense. I wondered why he was standing there, studying me. He was looking at the ropes over my breasts. I blushed. I knew that he saw my reaction but he didn't say anything. "I've got work to do. Want me to untie you or do you want to just, hang around?" We laughed, and I answered, "No, I'm okay. I'll just hang around." * * * We were excited as we prepared for our class fieldtrip scheduled the next weekend. We would be gone for five days. We bought new clothes and everything was great. And then, the day before the trip, I got sick. I couldn't get out of bed except to crawl to the bathroom to puke. The day we were supposed to leave, I couldn't even get out of bed. I was devastated and so were my friends. Natashia said the trip wouldn't be the same unless we all went together, but I managed to gather enough strength to feebly wish them a good trip. That night, I began to feel a bit better and my mom said that if I felt okay the next night, she'd drive me to meet the class. That made me feel much better but the next day, I was just as bad. My mom said it looked like I wouldn't be able to go, and, tearfully, I agreed. On the third day, I felt better, but I knew it was foolish to try to go now. The fourth day, I was really feeling sorry for myself. I felt good but I just sulked around the house. Paul interrupted my daydreaming. He had come over to visit me. He was two years behind me in school and wasn't allowed to go on the trip. "How're you feeling Nola?" he asked. "Oh, Paul, I feel fine, but I feel so sad. I really miss Natashia and we had planned so long for this trip." He nodded, "I know, but you were really sick. You'll get other chances to travel." "Yeah, I know," I replied, somewhat impatiently, "but it won't be the same." He smiled. "That's allright. I understand your disappointment." After a pause, he asked again, "Are you sure you feel okay?" "Hmmm?" I asked. "Oh, yes, I feel fine. Why?" "Oh, I dunno. I was just wondering if you wanted to spend some time in Lim's yard. Just the two of us?" I was astonished. I didn't know what to say. This little nine year old boy was asking me, a twelve year old girl, if I wanted him to tie me to a tree. He had a sneaky smile on his face, but I recovered enough to say, "Oh, I guess...Yes, I guess so." "I'll get the rope Nola. You change into your shorts and T-shirt." This perplexed me. This was dangerous ground for both of us but I shrugged and started for my room when Paul added, "And nothing else." Startled, I looked around, but he had already disappeared. I had gone bra-less before. He knew that. I had a training bra but sure didn't have very much to hide. But no underpants? In a few minutes, a little boy and a big girl were walking to Lim's place where boy was about to tie girl. I was struck by the danger of it, but I just marched along. When we got to the tree, he astonished me. "Take off your top," he said. I hesitated, but I saw that he was quite serious. "What if I don't?" I asked. "Then you'll get a hard spanking!" I thought, what the hell, and I didn't have hardly any breasts anyway and he was just a little boy. I took off my top, leaving myself bare to the waist in just my shorts. He held out what looked like leather cuffs. "What's that?" I asked. "There're special tie-up things. They won't interfere with your circulation. Here, hold out your wrist and I'll put them on you." Confused, I held out my left wrist. Quickly, Paul wrapped the cuff around my wrist and buckled it tight. Then he took my other wrist and did the same with another cuff. He knelt and put cuffs on both my ankles. He backed me up to the tree and very quickly I was secured with my wrists up and backwards to limbs behind me, thrusting my little breasts forward. He secured my ankles so that I was on my tiptoes with my legs spread out and back. Then he took off my runners and socks. This was a more intense position than I was used to, but I said nothing. If I was surprised by the cuffs, I was horrified when Paul began to wind thinner rope around my left breast. He put three loops around it; and then, holding it down with his little fingers, he began to tighten the wraps. I stared at his face, but it was all concentration so I looked down to watch what he was doing. My left breast began to swell outward as the rope tightened at the base. When he was satisfied, he began work on my right breast. The rope slipped once and he had to start all over, but finally my right breast was circled with rope and it swelled out like my left. Chapter 2 "There, how's that? he asked, stepping back to admire his work. This was an incredible situation. Here I was tied to a tree half naked. That wasn't all that unusual, but it was Paul who had tied me. Not only had he tied me, but he had used leather cuffs. Now I might be naive, but even I knew that he hadn't run down to the corner store and bought them while I'd been changing into my shorts. And that was also something; he told me what to wear, or was it what not to wear. And he had tied up my boobs and touched them a lot. After Paul finished tying me, I was just too confused to experience anything for several minutes. And then the ropes on my boobs began to arouse me. Whenever I shifted in the ropes, they sawed my skin. Very quickly I began to experience a warm feeling between my legs. I had never had that feeling before, at least not quite in this way. I looked up at the leather cuffs on my wrists. Clearly, these were well used. It was no use ignoring it: who used them? Who was tied? I was about to ask a question in my mind when my first ever orgasm hit me. It was beyond belief. As I writhed in my ropes, the waves of pleasure continued to wash over me. Then I blacked out. When I came to, I was hanging limply. I didn't know why it happened. After several minutes, I got both my feet under me and shifted in my ropes. Right away, I felt the warm feeling building again between my legs, so I twisted some more. At last I made the connection; the ropes on my boobs were the trigger. I decided to test my conclusion and another orgasm hit me. This one wasn't quite as intense, but it was extremely pleasurable, all the same. It took me longer to recover this time. But when I did, I was a wiser girl. I knew what it was about being tied up that drew me to it. Obviously, being tied up was no longer a childhood game or something you did just for something to do. A question popped into my mind: Did my friends know or suspect? Natashia probably knew and Paul, too. That got me thinking about her little game. She was spanked regularly. Did she get her kicks from being spanked the way I did from being tied up? Obviously, I had to pursue that question. Then Paul returned. He wasn't alone. Lim was with him. "Enjoying yourself?" he said acidly. I turned red from embarrassment. Here I was half naked and helpless with an old man and a little boy watching me. I didn't know what to say. He raised a questioning eyebrow. "I got a question," I managed to say. "These cuffs, for instance. They're not new." I said. He nodded. "I gave them to Paul." "And these ropes across my breasts. They were very, shall we say, strategically placed." He grinned, "I told him about that trick, too. Did it do it?" Perplexed, I said, "Do what?" "Give you an orgasm. It's like when boys masturbate." I blushed. He snorted his impatience. I said, "It was great." For a long moment, he just stood there and smiled at me. Then he said, "Well, enjoy yourself. * * * The next day, when my friends returned, they were all excited trying to tell me what they had done. Of course, I was excited for them, but there was something different. I too had an experience, but I chose not to tell them, at least not yet. Besides, mine would keep and they were simply being the good friends they always had been. But out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Natashia eyeing me speculatively. * * * Almost a week went by before Natashia and I had a chance to talk. "Nola," she began, "What happened?" "Paul tied me up. He made me take my T-shirt off!" "Wow!" I nodded, "And without a bra! And Lim saw me!" She smiled when I told her about the orgasm, "You already knew you enjoyed bondage. What you experienced yesterday probably won't make you want to stop." I hastened to add, "Natashia, I'm real glad you understand. It's just that I do like it but I want to know why others don't." "How do you know that the others don't?" she asked. Stumped for a moment, I stammered, "Well, I guess I just sort of thought because you tie me all the time......" "Oh, Nola," Natashia began, "being tied is only half of bondage; someone has to do the tying." So I asked, "Do you enjoy being spanked, Natashia?" She blinked, then blushed, "Not really. It was my father who started spanking me when mom wasn't around. And his brother, Uncle Jeremy and the Reverend Harvard." I thought about that for a few minutes. Her father was a big fat man, easily weighing about three hundred. His brother, Natashia's uncle, was really old. He was short and fat. The minister at the church was really creepy. I don't know how she could stand getting it from those guys. We sat for several more minutes, then Natashia asked, "You want to be tied up?" "Right now?" I asked. Natashia laughed, "Go and get dressed like yesterday. I'll call Paul." I went to my room and decided to be really daring so I put on my bikini bathing suit bottom with my T-shirt. And, of course, no bra. Natashia was on the phone when I came back downstairs. She hung up and said, "He'll meet us at Lim's!" * * * Paul pulled my hands behind my back and tied them. He then tied my feet together and pulled them against the tree. He used another rope to tie my feet to the base of the tree. The next part was really tough on me. He attached a long rope to my tied wrists and threw the other end over one of the branches. Then he started to pull my arms up, forcing me to bend over with my head touching the tree. He pulled my arms up backwards until I groaned, then he tied the end of the rope to the tree. Next he tied my bare breasts just like he did yesterday. "And what do you think of that?" he asked. This was definitely a terrifying experience. My body was secured and it was pulling against itself. Yet, even as I considered his question, I experienced that same feeling between my legs. "It's definitely different," I managed to say with some strain. "I've never been in anything like this before." There was silence for a couple minutes as I tried to get used to this new bondage position. "Too much?" It was Lim's voice. "Nooo, I can handle it," I said. Then I blurted out without thinking, "Are you all enjoying the view?" I knew the view I was giving Paul. That's why he tied me that way. I was, bent over, my legs apart, my arms pulled up backward and my buttocks lewdly displayed in the skimpy bikini bottom with my breasts bare. Paul giggled, "It's one of my favourites, although you should be all nude." "All nude?" I gasped. "Yeah," he replied, somewhat reluctantly, as if she had said more than he wanted to say. Paul swatted my behind, saying, "Yes, nothing else. At least nothing else that would cover this." He spanked my buttocks again. This frightened me, but the feeling in my crotch was building and I decided to concentrate on that. It happened again. It was an incredible experience. Different than the first time. This time I couldn't move at all. All I could do was pant and groan and whimper. After it was over, Natashia asked, "Was it good?" I smiled and nodded, so she continued, "Now you just stay there for a while and let yourself feel some really tight bondage." I really did feel the strain. I kept trying to straighten out my legs, but, of course, I couldn't. I didn't have any more orgasms but I enjoyed my feeling of helplessness. Natashia asked if I wanted to be untied. "No, not just yet. I can take it," I replied. "Well, that's good!" continued Natashia, "Because you don't get released until we've had our fun." I answered, "Well, you guys do what you want. I was untied but the ropes were not removed from my wrists or ankles; and, after a few minutes of stretching, Paul told me to take off my bikini pants. I was appalled. I was scared. But I knew I had no choice. This had gone past the point of stopping. Paul was excited. Lim was excited. Natashia was looking at me with gleaming eyes, a crazy smile on her face. And besides, didn't I know this was going to happen when I put on those tiny pants? They could almost see everything anyway. "Wait!" Paul said, an idea forming in his head. "Let's blindfold her first, so she can't see what we're gonna do!" Natashia agreed. Lim just smiled. Paul blindfolded me. I hooked my fingers in the waistband of the pants. I pulled them down and let them drop around my ankles. I knew where Paul would be looking so I clenched my buttocks, trying to make them less conspicuous. Lim was probably looking at my hairless slit. Paul slapped my bare flesh. "Don't do that," he said. I relaxed. Hell, he was just a kid, let him have his jollies. * * * Paul put four large bricks on the grass in the doorway of the horse stall in the barn, mid-way between the edges of the doorway. He then made me stand on the bricks. He then pointed to the upper corners. I nodded and held up my arms. He motioned for me to stand on my tiptoes and to reach for the corners. First one wrist, then the other, was secured tightly to the eye bolts in the corners. I had a little trouble balancing, but I managed. Then, kneeling, he ran the ropes from my ankles through the hooks in the bottom corners. Then he said, "Brace yourself," and jerked both ropes. This pulled my legs apart, off the bricks, and threw all my weight on my wrists. I yelled. Paul looked up at me, but he held the ropes. He managed to tie one rope to the other and there I was, hanging by my wrists. This was a serious undertaking. "This more interesting?" Paul asked in his whiny teasing voice. It was hard to talk at first, but I finally managed to groan, "Yes, it is very interesting." Paul laughed. "It's a real strain at first, but your mind can control your body and you'll learn to hang limply." I was suspicious, but I decided to try to take Paul's advice. I just let my head fall on my chest and tried to blank my mind. Chapter 3 I pestered Natashia until she said I could watch her get spanked. I said I would bring Paul with me. She thought that would be terribly embarrassing, having a ten year old boy watch her get it. But if I wanted to I should just do it, without asking if it was okay. I didn't think anything about it for several days. Then one day, when I got home from school, my mother said that Natashia called and I could stay over the weekend if I wanted to. Mom said it was okay. * * * "I'm going to Natashia's house." I told my mother after supper on Friday. I didn't say anything about Paul. My mother didn't like girls and boys staying overnight together, now that we were getting older. I picked up my knapsack and went outside. Natashia's house was only a couple blocks. Paul was waiting for me around the corner. He was excited, even though he didn't know why I had invited him along. Being just a little kid, he was used to being rejected by us older kids. He had a brown paper bag with him. When we arrived, I was scared. While Natashia had seen me tied up, I had never seen her spanked. I had no idea how her father might react. When we entered the house, Natashia's father, Curt, greeted me with a kiss on the cheek. His breath reeked of stale beer. He said, "Nola, Natashia said you were coming." He looked at Paul with a strange smile. "Come in, both of you, and sit down. Natashia is waiting." Boy, Natashia sure was waiting. She was wearing a tight halter top and snug, short shorts that hugged her beautiful behind; they were almost like her bikini underpants. With half of each cheek exposed, they revealed more than they concealed. Natashia was certainly better endowed than I was. It didn't do anything for me but Paul had a good eye for a girl's bum. We all knew that when we wore anything tight around the buttocks, especially shorts or our bathing suits, he couldn't keep his eyes off of us. But he wasn't the only one. At the pool, lots of dads looked too. And sometimes when Natashia played with us, Paul managed to squeeze her delicious ass, or maybe trailed a finger across one of her cheeks and goosed her a little bit and she wasn't even disturbed about it. She was used to the boys patting her on the behind and giving it a squeeze when they could. Everybody thought that Natashia had a cute ass, maybe even a great ass, and she knew it too. Didn't she pick her clothes, more or less, to show it off? Tight jeans? Spandex skirts revealing everything? Maybe other girls were pissed, but that didn't bother Natashia in the least. It didn't bother me either. So when Paul admired Natashia's ravishing rear end, and got away with a touch, a pat, a squeeze, and now and then, a goose, Nola was not surprised. Natashia noticed how nervous I was and how agitated Paul was; and she smiled and then said weakly, "Relax. It's okay. At least, you guys' will have a good time this weekend!" I thought it was a sick smile. That told me a lot about Natashia. I continued into the room. Her father spoke, "Nola, why don't you sit here at the end of the couch, and Paul, you too." "Where's your mom?" I asked Natashia. "She went to visit her mother for the weekend," she answered, "so dad's having some guys over for a few beers...and stuff." She sounded a little hesitant, especially with the "and stuff" part. I peeked at her father. His beer gut undulated when he walked. The doorbell rang. Curt went to the door and opened it. * * * The minister's name was Mr. Harvard. I never even heard his first name. He was a fundamentalist preacher who was also a member of the local school board. He lectured and sermonized a lot about sin, thought about it a lot, and was prepared to see it scourged out of a sinner. If he couldn't do the scourging himself, he wanted to watch and to supervise to be certain that the chastisement was sufficient to atone for the sin. He, of course, insisted that atonement be preceded by full, honest confession and that if more extreme measures were needed to get a confession, so much the better. Eventually she, in his opinion most sinners were female, would confess. She would be uncomfortable, would certainly cry and probably beg and plead to be released, but that could not be helped. Once under punishment, she would be restrained until her confession was heard. He took one look at the scantily clad Natashia and compressed his lips into a tight line as he stared at her with flaming eyes. Now this little heathen needed to confess and be saved, he thought. "Good afternoon, Reverend," Natashia said shyly. Curt looked at his brother-in-law with a wide grin. The doorbell rang a second time. This time Natashia answered it. * * * Curt thought about Uncle Jeremy and his idea of discipline. He was one of the older generation, at sixty, twenty years older than Curt. He was a short, bald, fat, single-minded, stubborn man, who demanded to be obeyed, and angered quickly when somebody was naughty. When needed, the guilty recipient was grabbed and dragged into his private room. Dragged, by an ear or by a nipple or by a hand, Jeremy didn't care. And the guilty party would go up over the back of Jeremy's chair, and girl or boy, it did not matter; well, yes it did matter. Uncle Jeremy was less interested in spanking the boys when they had been naughty. Bad behaviour from boys was more or less expected. Even though Curt had gotten it once for something really serious, although he couldn't remember what it was. But Jeremy was at his best when the culprit was a girl. He had higher standards for girls and he insisted on them being observed. He demanded it. Pants and underwear, shoes and socks, shirts or tops, everything would come off, legs were spread wide, ankles were fastened to the back legs of the chair, wrists fastened to the front legs, and the guilty child was given time, a long time, naked and frightened, to consider the crime. Sometimes Jeremy would run his hands over the bare bottom before him, fondling it prior to punishment. Of course, he could not help looking at the delicious young femininity that was exposed. But he could bear up under the strain. And then, when plenty of time had passed to think and to worry, only then would Jeremy take his strap, a sturdy length of leather, long and wide and wicked. Jeremy would study the bare flesh, consider the crime and decide on suitable punishment. All this in total silence, though now and then a guilty girl, pondering her criminal behaviour and the punishment sure to follow, would begin to cry in anticipation, feeling in advance the fiery kiss of the leather strap across her tender buttocks. Only then Jeremy would give an efficient strapping, long and very slow, with lengthy intervals between strokes, really fierce, scorching the upturned flesh flaming red; hearing and ignoring the cries and screams that always came; paying no attention to the pleas for mercy that he knew he would hear; laughing at youthful promises to be good, to obey, whatever, if only..... Uncle Jeremy delivered a judicious thrashing, a noisy one, one that could be heard by everybody in the house. A little noise was a good thing; everybody else would know what was happening. The spanking would be accompanied by screams and tears. It was bound to be remembered, and just might modify a child's behaviour for the better, though probably not. It would usually have to be repeated. Many times. Of course, Jeremy had no personal interest in looking at naked, female buttocks, even if the ass belonged to one of his nieces or daughters, or watching it buck and heave as it was repeatedly kissed by that awful strap. He did not really want to look at young, naked little girl's pussies, at thighs which would have loved to clench to hide the secret treasures between them, at that most private spot between parted cheeks. No, not Uncle Jeremy. But did all this give him a furious erection? Well, maybe. * * * Curt certainly remembered. He had watched many such thrashing's, yes, he remembered well. He, too, had been over the back of that chair, his bottom bared, everything showing while Uncle Jeremy gave him the treatment, the whole treatment. * * * So when Curt asked Uncle Jeremy, since he was retired and living close by, if he would come over for the weekend and remind them of the way that things used to be done, Uncle Jeremy liked the idea just fine. And just in case, in his overnight bag was the strap, a wicked looking length of black leather, about three inches wide and twenty-four inches long, with the end cut into three tongues. It was the same one that Uncle Jeremy had used years ago. It was capable of inflicting ass-blistering spanking, if punishment was to happen. Would punishment happen? Curt would decide. Reverend Harvard would certainly watch, never going to pass up the chance to see justice carried out. He would be judge and jury, would indict and convict and pronounce sentence and Uncle Jeremy would carry it out. Chapter 4 The men were out on the patio. Curt and Jeremy guzzled beer and chewed on huge, stinking cigars. Reverend Harvard sipped tepid water. The two obese men were stripped to shorts, letting their flabby hairy bellies flop around and showing their hairy armpits when they reached for another beer or the ashtrays. Jeremy, although he was completely bald, was hairy all over, just like a shaggy dog. The wrinkled, old minister stayed dressed in his black suit with his tie correctly knotted although his pot belly was evident. Paul was with them. He was wearing just his skimpy underpants because he didn't bring his bathing suit, and his belly hung in a greasy fold over the front. It almost looked like he was nude. Nola hadn't noticed that he seemed to be getting heavier, What's with these guys, she thought, don't they care, don't they see? Nola was looking out Natashia's bedroom window. She groaned. "It looks just like a pig pen out there," she said in disgust. "It's bad enough they are so huge but to expose themselves like that..." she stopped, realizing that it was Natashia's family she was talking about. "Yeah," Natashia agreed, twisting her face in a look of disgust. "Pretty gross, isn't it. You got that pig-pen part right! If we could sell the pig-meat that you see, we'd be rich!" * * * "How many beer do you think they've had," Natashia asked. She was sitting on her bed looking kind of sad. "Why?" I asked. "Well, I guess it's time I got them going if you want to see it!" "What?" I asked, not understanding what she was talking about. "Well, you see, Nola. I've got to piss off the Reverend to get it started." "Why? What started?" I guess I was really stupid. Natashia looked at me like I was, anyway. "Spanking, stupid! They need an excuse. Don't you get it?" "I thought it just happened!" I exclaimed. "No chance. There has to be a reason. You know my dad's the mayor and the town constable. He sure doesn't want a scandal." "Wow!" "And you'd better not tell anybody about this. Or dad will have to arrest you and put you in a jail cell. You wouldn't like that! Or would you?" "No, I guess not!" "Come on Nola, get with it. I'm just kidding." I looked at my friend with tears in my eyes. She was going to start this just so I could see her get it. "The thing is, I've got to get them horny. This is really a sex show. That's easy with dad because mom doesn't even sleep in the same room with him. Because of his weight and all. And he peeks at my ass all the time when he thinks I don't know he's around. But the others, they just need an any excuse so I'm going to give them one. And you can help." "How?" I stammered. "First off, you got to show some skin. I'll seem okay out by the pool, so get into a pair of my shorts and a halter top or something. I've got some old stuff that should fit you, when I was littler. And remember, when this starts, it won't stop, so don't interfere. Got it?" "Yeah, I got it," I said. But really I hadn't. "So get ready to watch a play which is going to combine striptease, moral self-righteousness, spanking and sex as a blood-sport." * * * I changed into a pair of Natashia's old shorts and halter top. Then I followed her down the stairs and we headed toward the patio. "No turning back now," she grimaced. They were all watching us. I just followed Natashia. She went right to Jeremy and put her arm around his neck. Then she picked up his beer bottle and took what looked like a long drink. I was stunned. She sat on his lap for a few minutes then took one of his cigarettes from a half empty pack and lit it. She drew in deeply and expelled a cloud of smoke directly at Reverend Harvard. I couldn't believe my eyes. I thought I was dreaming. Natashia didn't smoke and drink. Or at least I didn't think she did. The look on the Reverend's face was appalling. * * * On a sunny Friday night, Nola and Paul were at Natashia's house with Jeremy and Curt sitting and watching while the Reverend Harvard marched Natashia around the room, holding an ear lobe firmly between thumb and forefinger. Natashia's hands already fastened behind her back, her wrists tied together with a length of sash-cord that Jeremy just remembered to bring along, just in case. This is exactly what Uncle Jeremy would have done twenty years earlier. The Reverend emphasized loudly the part of about the thorough spanking on her bare buttocks. He loosened Natashia's belt buckle, and with a tug, pulled her tight, sexy shorts down over her hips, and as soon as they were down to her knees, reached up and grabbed the nylon panties, tugging them down too. This also was just like Uncle Jeremy, who almost as much as anything liked that first look at the bare ass which would get his attention. Now nude from the waist down, Natashia gasped in embarrassment, not wanting her uncle, her father, and her friends looking at her body. They stared. All of them had seen this breath taking ass a thousand times before, but always clothed, only her father had see it bare. And she looked as good, semi-nude as they had imagined. Jeremy was trying to conceal it, but he had a furious hard-on and all he could think of, just then, was which of a thousand different things he could do with it, with Amy as an unwilling partner in each fantasy. The Reverend looked up, noted that Jeremy and Curt were hard as a rock, but said nothing. He thought that Natashia had better get used to being nude before them, that they would be seeing all there was to see on a fairly regular basis from now on, if he had his way, though he had no intention of turning Natashia over to Jeremy for his pleasure. No, the minister was positive that this teenager would get her share of fucking in the future, but Jeremy was not going to be the sex partner. But one thing that was very much in his plan; that Natashia would learn obedience, total obedience, absolute obedience. Starting right now!!! The Reverend's hand drew back, and he gave Natashia an explosive, hard crack with his bare hand on Natashia's naked ass, leaving a bright, flaming pink hand-print on Natashia's ass. Natashia squealed, not realizing that a single hard blast from a bare hand could hurt so much. The second swat on the other cheek hurt even more, and the slow, even spanking, each stroke alternating from one cheek to the other had her crying almost hysterically in only a few moments. Jeremy was delighted to notice that as the spanking was applied, hard and slow, and that Natashia quickly forgot about trying to hold her legs together. After the third or fourth smack, he could see pussy almost constantly. And better yet, the Reverend seemed perfectly aware that everyone could see and was looking, and further that the men had furious erections. Jeremy knew full well that there was no way that Curt or the Reverend was going to let him fuck this delicious teenager; that his pleasure would be simply visual, at least for now. But Jeremy had lusted after Curt's sexy daughter for a long time, and he knew that sooner or later his moment would come, that some opportunity would arise when he got this delightful cutie nude when Curt wasn't around. His interest was heightened even more when the Reverend pulled up Natashia's tank-top, discovered that she was wearing a strapless bra that hooked in front, unhooked it and tossed it on the floor, and let Natashia's full, luscious breasts swing free, the pink nipples standing erect, obviously from fear. So now the men had a look at the whole package, completely nude Natashia. Jeremy could wait, would have to wait, but his fantasies multiplied. And when the Reverend seized each jutting nipple between thumb and forefinger and firmly squeezed, Natashia gasped in agony and cried and begged for forgiveness. When the minister ordered her to spread her legs, she did it immediately. Jeremy's eyes almost popped out at this humiliating act. Paul was ecstatic. He was twisting and groaning as he watched the obscene spectacle. Nola just stared. He started the spanking again, another series of very hard swats with his bare hand to Natashia's heaving, twisting ass. All the twisting in the world would not make Reverend Harvard miss. One hard stinging shot after another, each one accompanied by crying, by pleading, by begging to forgiveness, by promises to be good. Nothing helped. Nothing would have helped. He gave it to her as hard as he could swing, lecturing her with each swat, colouring the beautiful, breath-taking buttocks bright red. The way the Reverend taught obedience was the old fashioned way, applied hard and slow to a naked bottom, and the more heaving, twisting, crying, screaming and begging for forgiveness, the better!! He would not forget and would not forgive. He would control. Absolutely. And that is what he was doing, right now. Taking absolute control. * * * For Natashia it had been an absolutely horrible evening so far, and now was threatening to get even worse. She had been stripped, stark naked, and then spanked, thoroughly spanked on her bare buttocks, in front of her father, her uncle, and her best friends by that hideous Reverend, something that she had never, in wildest imagination thought would ever happen to her. She thought of the evening's humiliating events, of being caught and stripped naked and shown off nude and terrified, and of the hard spanking. And the worst thing, when the bastard took her cute little panties off her gorgeous ass, he rubbed his hands across her buttocks, gently fondling each lovely, naked cheek, and then, found a path between her thighs and tested how it felt to run a finger into teen-aged pussy and feel her body just writhe when he found her clitoris. She began to cry all over again. * * * Reverend Harvard took Natashia by an ear, and led her into the house. She looked a mess. She was crying, knowing that she was going to be punished again. But not yet. Her hands were unfastened and she was pushed into the shower, given a bar of soap, ordered to scrub, and when she was spotless, to present herself, naked, in the basement. Natashia showered, slowly, taking as long as possible to scrub herself, not anxious at all to go to the basement. She was still in the shower when the door burst open, her Uncle Jeremy walked in, reached into the shower stall, turned off the water, and grabbed her by a still erect nipple. Twisting and pulling, he said to her, "Let's go little girl, you're keeping us waiting." He tossed her a towel, watched her dry off, and spanked her red, throbbing bare ass to speed her up, and then followed her as she ran, naked, down the stairs to the basement. She expected everyone to be there waiting. They were! Natashia thought that the Reverend was the one she feared the most. He was the typical do-gooder, fundamentalist, fire breathing, hell threatening hypocrite. She did not know what they were going to do to her now, but she knew that it would not be good for her. * * * Uncle Jeremy fastened her into cuffs. Her arms were attached behind her back. She was totally naked and totally petrified. She was standing before them, her nipples erect from fear and cold. The Reverend was standing in the centre of the damp, smelly room, holding Jeremy's leather strap. Jeremy and her father were seated, staring at Natashia's nipples and at her curly pubic triangle. Nola and Paul stared at Natashia, Nola with compassion, Paul with lust. Uncle Jeremy was hoping that the preacher would turn the teenager over to him for punishment; and for Jeremy, punishment meant first a blistering, bare ass whipping and then, hopefully, fucking. Now, he was afraid, Natashia would get her's all right, but she would get the strap from the minister and the fucking, maybe even up the ass, from that rotten, lecherous so-called preacher, as well. Well, he thought, at least he would get another look at Natashia's delicious bare ass. The Reverend knew that this girl was a secret sinner, in thought as well as deed and she needed to be scourged and to be examined. He looked forward to the occasion with great joy. * * * Nola fantasized that it was her ass getting ready for the spanking with the wicked leather strap. She imagined the furious, welting agony as the strap tore into her bare buttocks, making her writhe in exquisite torment, making her cry and squirm, and almost making her cum in the process. And she imagined the preacher, nude and erect, huge and hard and demanding. And that it was her body that was being slowly, forcefully penetrated, opened wide, and fucked! She knew that if she was thrashed by that vile man the spanking would be only the beginning. Nola knew, just knew, that her own naked body would get violated. She knew that Natashia and Paul would be there, watching. But so would those two fat slobs. * * * Natashia was getting spanked with the strap, slowly, hard, encouraged to confess. He made Natashia tell him in full detail everything. She told; how Nola like to be tied up, how she got sexual release from it; how Paul liked to look at a girl's bum; including the fact that Nola expected to be stripped by the Reverend, spanked, and...and...other things. He was delighted. He ordered Jeremy to bring Nola over for questioning and penance. * * * The Reverend demanded to know all, and got the full, glorious details of Nola's pleasure with the ropes. Nola was terribly frightened, but much more excited than scared. "Let's see what this disobedient little girl looks like. Get her clothes off of her." Jeremy pulled the halter top over Nola's head and Nola was twisted around, showing off her tiny, bare breasts and her very erect pink nipples. Jeremy fondled Nola's tits, massaging the erect nipples. The Reverend nodded, perhaps in approval. Next, Nola's shorts came down followed by her panties. Jeremy spun her around again, this time showing off her maturing buttocks. She was built exactly the way the preacher liked girls to be built, nice little breasts, nice thighs, nice hips, great ass, a hairless pink slit. The preacher was furiously erect, making no effort to hide his very obvious hard-on. He was going to give it to this cutie soon, and probe her sexy holes if he could get away with it. He reached for her, and pinched her naked ass. And then drew back his hand and gave her a hard spank on the right cheek, leaving a pink imprint. She squealed, more in shock than in pain. The two girls were interrogated together, ordered to confess their sins. He wanted especially to hear about lesbian love play. They both denied that perverted act. But Nola quickly admitted to the bondage and the sexual relief she got from it. * * * The preacher was horrified. Reverend Harvard was hugely erect. He undressed, showing them a monstrous, thick hard-on. It looked gigantic, terrifying to the two young girls. He also had the leather strap. The two children were laid, side by side over a bench, naked, buttocks raised, legs spread, wrists fastened behind their backs. Both girls were lectured. Both were punished; the strap firmly dishing out its wicked strokes on first one ass and then the other. Both bare behinds turned pink and then red as the leather did its insidious work. It was a loud, noisy spanking, and certainly very vicious. Both girls cried and begged for forgiveness. The preacher explored Natashia's asshole with a crooked finger, stretched her out with a second finger, and slowly inserted his monstrous cock, pushed it through the sphincter, and buried it in her. Jeremy watched the insertion, watched every single stroke, silently cheering the pervert on as he took her ass, watching as he reached his hands under her, grasped her nipples between thumb and forefinger, and squeezed. She was entirely helpless. She knew now that he would take her to total, heaving, bucking orgasm as soon as he wanted to and that there was nothing, absolutely nothing that she could do to stop him. Then Jeremy picked up the strap and really laid into Nola's ass while her friend was being ass fucked. The force of the blows was greater than Nola would ever have imagined for starters. Red streaks appeared on each cheek. "How're those for starters?" Jeremy asked the leering Curt. Without taking his eyes from the obscene performance he answered, "Just right big brother. Keep it up." Curt began a rhythmic application of the strap to Nola's ass. He resumed his previous position and began to swing the leather. The initial strokes caught Nola on the ass, but soon Jeremy was hitting her on the thighs and back. * * * Paul was mesmerized. He'd never dreamed it would be like this. Oh, he'd read about whipping, but to actually see the scalding of a friend's ass and legs, well, that was really something. He enjoyed listening to Nola grunt and groan as her body absorbed the force and the pain of each stroke. He looked over at Natashia's father. He was smoking and drinking beer, staring intently at Nola's surging ass and the Reverend fucking his daughter's ass. This jolted him. And then he caught Curt jerking furiously on his huge cock. Wow! Chapter 5 Finally, dropping the strap, Jeremy said, "We'll let her rest a bit if that's okay with you Curt. We got the rest of tonight and tomorrow, too" Curt said, "Don't matter to me. Whatever you guys want is fine with me." When the whipping and fucking was finished and Natashia and Nola were released, Natashia said we would be having pizza for supper. While we waited for the pizza to be delivered, the men drank and smoked and talked about the rest of the night. * * * The next morning, after three pieces of toast, Natashia threw down her crust and said, "Shit." Looking up, the Reverend replied, "What did you say?" "I said 'shit'," she repeated. "I need a break. This is just too intense." He replied, "What you mean is that you need your ass paddled." She said nothing for a moment, then, after lighting a cigarette, she said, "You ready to do me, dad?" Curt nodded. Natashia stood and went back down to the basement. Everyone followed. She stripped naked and this time she lay along the length of the six foot bench. Curt quickly bound her ankles to the back legs then pulled her tight and tied her wrists to the front legs, tightening Natashia so she couldn't move. After locking the basement door, Curt stripped then picked up a vicious looking riding crop. I undressed to my panties, but Jeremy or the Reverend or Paul didn't. He hefted it the crop and swung it around in the air. Then, without warning her, he hit the left cheek of her ass as hard as he could. The crack sound echoed in the room and, almost involuntarily, Paul said, "god." Natashia shrieked, and looked up at me. She was surprised to see my bare tits and her eyes bulged, but then she said, "Like your dress." He hit her at least thirty times with that whip. And when he was done, her back and ass and thighs were criss-crossed with the thin red lines. THE END (FOR NOW) A Comment from the Author: The comments and suggestions posted by readers are what keep the authors going. The same is true for me. I've got a general direction I want to go with the NOLA series from here, but that's all. The door's wide open for specific scenes and characters. I'd love for all you "Anons" out there to contribute your suggestions. If nobody does, the NOLA series will probably go on anyway but the more suggestions I get the better the product, I hope. One last thing. I'm not much on gross (eating/drinking shit/piss/puke), nor do I enjoy maiming my characters (major burns or scars, broken bones, ripped or chopped off body parts, severe internal injuries, death, etc.) It's purely a matter of personal taste, so those of you who do enjoy it by all means keep on writing it. Other than that I like all kinds of punishment and humiliation, particularly involving the pre-pube set, and I'm real flexible. If you'll send your ideas in I promise I'll do my best to work them into the story. Please post any comments to French Connection BBS (914-278-6266) or the Leather Rose BBS (312-665-0111). I visit both regularly. And a Question: Does anyone out there still like whips? Or for that matter canes, straps, paddles, tawses, martinets, cat-o'-nines, riding crops, or even an occasional good old fashioned bundle of birch switches? I haven't seen a good flagellation story in ages. What ever happened to naughty young schoolgirls getting their bare asses caned by lecherous old men? I'm not talking about spanking. That's its own little club, and they mostly frown on us hard core B&D and S&M freaks. I'm talking about the whip 'em till they bleed world. Are any of us "flag" freaks still out there? Comments please. Curt Strap March, 1994 Listing of the NOLA series as of 31 March 94. Please note that the text files are not be politically correct and many may be offensive to some readers. Nola is a real person. I have known all her life. Most of the descriptions of her are accurate although the action is all fiction. The numbering sequence is the order that I wrote them. Each one stands alone. If you are interested in any of them that are not posted please leave a note on Leather Rose or TFC BBS. Some of the stories are not complete and others are being edited daily. I reserve the right to change the title and numbering sequence for my files. If you have any suggested titles and scenarios let me know. Nola1.txt "The Beginning" Nola2.txt "The Chief of Police" Nola3.txt "The Augustines" Nola4.txt "The Reverend" Nola5.txt "The Island" Nola6.txt "Nola's Children" Nola7.txt "The Rape Photographer" Nola8.txt "The Porn Producers" Nola9.txt "The Nurse" Nola10.txt "The Children At Play" AKA Children.zip Nola11.txt "The Game" AKA Sarah.zip Nola12.txt "The Doctor" Nola13.txt "The Farm" Nola14.txt "The Model" Nola15.txt "Nola and Jeremy" Nola16.txt "Blackmailing Nola" Nola17.txt "The Spy" Nola18.txt Un-named Nola19.txt Un-named Nola20.txt "The Cottage" Nola21.txt "The Convent" Nola22.txt "The Cop" Nola23.txt "The Reporter" Nola24.txt "The Musician" Nola25.txt "Nola and Tashia" Nola26.txt "The Prison Matron" Nola27.txt "The Complex" Nola28.txt Un-named Nola29.txt "The Scout Troop" Nola30.txt "Tashia" Nola31.txt "The Exibitionist" Nola32.txt "The Asylum" Curt Strap - March 31, 1994 -- Double for Nothing!! Tricks for Free!!! http://pw1.netcom.com/~mrdouble/main/stories.html Be There.....