textfiles/sex/EROTICA/0/1stlady.txt

THE FIRST LADY'S STATE PUNISHMENT
By Dave Caracappa

     The occasion is a formal reception for the English Ambassa-
dor: a cocktail hour, to be followed by dinner, and then enter-
tainment.  It is the first State reception for the handsome young
President and his beautiful wife.  As the guests enter the recep-
tion room, the first lady, dressed in an elegant ivory strapless
floor length gown, is standing in the center of the room with her
hands clasped behind her back.  At the beginning of the recep-
tion, the President stands next to her and shakes hands with the
guests as they enter, while she makes conversation with them. 
When the guests have all arrived, the President begins to circu-
late through the crowd.  Throughout the reception, however, the
first lady never moves from her location, nor does she change her
position or even turn to face a different direction.  The guests
all must make their way to the center of the room to talk with
her.

     A more curious visitor might notice that the first lady's
hands remain clasped behind her back because of a thin ivory
leather strap holding her crossed wrists together.  Only a select
few know why she remains standing in one place and facing in one
direction: she is impaled on a steel pole, topped with a hard
plastic dildo tilted at a slight angle.  It took only a few
minutes of preparation an hour or so before the guests were to
arrive to place her as she is.  The pole was inserted into a hole
in the floor, and lowered a little way into the floor.  Then the
first lady, tossing her head like a pony, was escorted into the
reception room by her Secret Service man.  She was already in her
gown, leather wristlet and stiletto high heels, but also wore a
black hood locked on over her head, as she always did when
escorted by the Secret Service.  It was known that she hated the
hood.  When one of the maids lifted her skirt and petticoats, all
in the room could see that her pudenda was completely bare: no
panties; only her bush of curly auburn hair and nude-colored
thigh-high stockings held up by a garterbelt.  While the maid
held her skirt up, the butler raised the pole up, spread her
legs, gently parted her nether lips with two fingers, and slowly
inserted the dildo into her vagina.  He raised the pole until her
legs were straight, together and hugging the pole, then tightened
the set screw in the floor fitting with an allen wrench.  Then
the maid released her skirt, and arranged the folds so that they
hung straight and pretty.  The first lady stood there, hooded,
for the final hour of preparations.  More than once did she feel
a hand on her breasts, her bottom, or her mons; and once even got
a spank on her bottom which elicited a little yelp.

     As with all things in the White House, the pole was made to
the order of the new President.  Careful measurements had been
taken of the first lady to determine the exact length and width
of the dildo, and the exact angle necessary for the dildo to tilt
from the vertical to allow the first lady to stand upright, in
her heels, while impaled, without undue discomfort.  Several fit-
tings, each including an hour or so of standing in heels had been
made to ensure accuracy.  A few minutes before the guests were to
arrive, the hood was unlocked and removed by her Secret Service
agent, and the beautician repaired the damage to her make up and
hair caused by the hood.

     Throughout the cocktail hour, guests made small talk with
the first lady, and gave drinks to her as one might give a drink
to a toddler: by placing their glass at her lips, and tilting it
up.  The drink would have spilled on her gown if she had refused
to drink, so she drank.  One young man brought over a strawberry,
which he fed to her a bite at a time.  A little of the juice
dribbled down her chin and into her cleavage, but he graciously
and very thoroughly dabbed it away with a cocktail napkin, but
other than that, no food was delivered to her.  She once politely
tried to refuse a drink, but the profferer ignored her protests,
and raised the glass to her lips anyway.  She drank.  By dinner
time, she was a little tipsy.  After all the guests had departed
to the dining hall, the butler loosened the set screw, lowered
the pole, and, without loosening her hands, escorted the first
lady into the dining room.  He then seated her to the right of
the President, and fastened her into her seat by a leather belt
which buckled in front around her lap.  She was hand fed by the
President on one hand, and the English Ambassador on the other. 
At one point, a drop of soup dropped on her bodice, and the
Ambassador, attempting to blot it up, exposed one of her breasts,
which remained exposed for the remainder of dinner.  She also was
fed many glasses of wine.  By the time the entree was served, she
was quite drunk.  Some cream sauce from the Stroganoff dribbled
out of her mouth and onto her gown, and the President exposed her
other breast when blotting it up.  When she started to babble
drunkenly, the President signaled the butler, who fitted her with
a beautifully tooled ivory leather head harness in which was a
big red ball gag.  She passed the remainder of dinner drooling
onto her exposed breasts and mewling through the gag.

     After dinner, all the guests retired to the performance
hall.  Only when all the guests had left the dining room was the
first lady released from her chair by the butler, who, without
removing her gag, covering her exposed breasts, or releasing her
pinioned hands, escorted her, staggering, though back halls of
the White House to the entrance to the backstage area of the
performance hall.  The main curtain was drawn when they entered. 
He delivered her to center stage, where he fastened her over a
whipping bench in the middle of the stage.  The whipping bench
looked like an oversized sawhorse with a well padded horizontal
bar.  The butler lifted her up, and placed her face down over the
whipping bench with her waist atop the padded horizontal bar.  He
spread her legs apart and enclosed her ankles in a set of ankle
cuffs attached to the set of legs on one side of the padded bar. 
Then he released her arms, pulled them down on the other side of
the whipping bench, spread her arms to either side, and enclosed
her wrists in a set of wrist cuffs attached to the legs of the
whipping bench on the other side of the padded bar.  Then he
walked to the wings.  The whipping bench, too, had been fitted
specifically for the first lady at the request of the President. 
The wrist and ankle cuffs stretched her across the padded bar to
the utmost, allowing only her wrists and ankles a modicum of
motion, but holding the rest of her motionless.  When mounted on
the bench, her wrists and ankles were held about a foot off the
ground.  She could touch the ground with neither her toes or
fingers.

     In the meantime, on the other side of the curtain, the
President climbed the stairs to the stage and announced that the
first lady had embarrassed the English Ambassador, the United
States, him, and herself by drinking too much at the cocktail
party, by spilling food over herself at dinner, and by behaving
abominably, becoming drunk and babbing drunkenly at dinner.  This
was to be punished.  Because the English Ambassador was the one
most insulted, he was asked to the stage to administer the
punishment.  The curtain opened to reveal the first lady bent
over the whipping bench.  The English Ambassador mounted to the
stage to the polite applause of the audience.  Once on stage, he
took off his coat, and rolled up his right sleeve.  At the same
time, the butler brought out a fagot of birch switches from the
wings and took the Ambassador's coat from him.  The Ambassador
selected one of the birch switches, and, with a stern counte-
nance, swished it experimentally around the air like a swordsman
in old movies.  In the meantime, the butler raised the first
lady's skirts, exposing her bottom and legs, released her stock-
ings from the garters and pulled them down to her pinioned
ankles.  Her  breasts, still exposed, hung down below her bent
torso.  Then the butler bowed respectfully to the Ambassador and
retreated into the wings.   The Ambassador was told that because
the injury had been done to him, he was to continue until he
alone was satisfied that the injury he suffered had been fully
compensated.

     The Ambassador initially stood to the left side of the first
lady, and, with all the strength he had in his bared right arm,
brought the switch down on her bottom.  The first lady jumped and
shrieked in pain through her gag.  A red line was immediately and
clearly visible to all in the audience.  After a few seconds
elapsed, the Ambassador switched her again, just above the first
welt.  With an almost measured tempo the Ambassador switched the
first lady with the birch switches.  When she wasn't screaming at
a blow, she was wailing or sobbing in pain.  The Ambassador
switched her on her bottom, on the backs of her thighs, on the
back of her knees, and on her calves.  Sometimes across both
legs, sometimes only on one leg.  He moved from her left side, to
her right, and switched her backhand.  He stood directly in back
of her and whipped downward, leaving vertical marks.  And he made
one, and only one upstroke between her legs, which expended its
energy on her pouting nether lips, and nicked her clitoris.  The
scream from that one blow exceeded all others.  He also switched
her shoulders and arms.  Nor were her breasts neglected.  Each
received several strokes, some landing directly on her nipples. 
He switched her with all the twigs in the faggot, until they were
broken or frayed beyond further use.  The first lady was striped
red on her shoulders and arms, all over her bottom,  and down her
thighs to her ankles, with isolated stripes on her breasts.  When
the Ambassador finished, the audience broke into a roar of ap-
plause, and the President bounded up the stairs and, with a big
smile, shook his hand enthusiastically.

     After the punishment was completed, the first lady was left,
still bound and gagged over the whipping bench, on stage.  The
guests were invited up on stage after the chastisement was
complete.  Through the haze of pain and alcohol the first lady
could feel the hands of most of the guests rubbing her burning
behind, and cupping her breasts, and heard one matronly lady tell
her she should be ashamed of herself.  One curious finger even
sought her maimed slit.  She remained stretched over the whipping
bench long after the guests had left, while the staff was clean-
ing up.  She soon slipped into a pain and alcohol induced stupor. 
The cleaning staff had close looks and feels of the well striped
first butt.  After the staff had finshed their work and left,
only the butler remained.  He finally released her from the
whipping bench, but only after making a most complete exploration
of the first lady's bottom, pubis and breasts.  It took fierce
pinching of her nipples, and a bucket of filthy, greasy water
from the kitchen over her head, to rouse her from her drunken
stupor.  He did nothing, however, but release the clip holding
her left wrist fetter together, then left to go to bed himself.

     The fetter was a hospital type, and didn't release by
itself.  In addition, the first lady was a little disoriented
from the pain and the alcohol.  It took her a while to figure out
how to unclasp the fetter.  When she finally was able to release
her left wrist, the first thing she did was pull the bodice of
her gown back up over her breasts, and push the skirt back down
over her legs.  But she knew as soon as she did it that it had
been a mistake.  The fitted bra cups abraided her striped
breasts, and the starched petticoats, which she hadn't noticed
before, did the same to the raw skin from her waist to her
ankles.  She pulled her bodice back down again to relieve the
pain on her breasts, but could no longer reach her skirt.  Her
left hand gently rubbed the welted skin of her breasts to try to
comfort the stinging.  The second thing she did was fiddle with
the three buckles holding her in the head harness and gag with
her left hand.  In her drunken haze, she couldn't undo them with
one hand.  So she contorted her body to bring her left hand to
her right wrist and release that cuff.  Then, before straight-
ening out, she attacked the buckles on her head harness with both
hands.  When her fumbling, drunken fingers finally undid those
buckles, she spit out the foul-tasting, and now smelly rubber
ball, sodden with her stale saliva and the mucous which was
running from her nose, and had been running since she had begun
sobbing during her whipping. When she had done that, she straigh-
tened up, and tried to stand.  But her ankles had been fastened
to the legs of the whipping bench so that her feet didn't touch
the ground.  When she tried to stand, her feet were held above
the ground and she collapsed backwards to a sitting position,
crushing her bruised bottom into her abrasive petticoats, and she
screamed again in pain.  Only by lying on her back could she find
any relief.  She realized that she could reach her ankle cuffs
while remaining on her back by twisting her body sideways.  She
finally contorted her body to reach and unlock both her ankle
cuffs and she was free.

     She unbuckled and kicked off her heels, pulled the stockings
off her ankles, and gathered her skirt up aroung her waist to
protect her red bottom and legs from chafing.  The performance
hall was dark and had only emergency lights were burning.  She
had to find her own way back to her quarters.  She longed for a
black hood, and a nice strong Secret Service agent as she awk-
wardly crawled up the long marble stairs barefoot, with her
breasts exposed, and holding her skirts around her waist, to her
chamber.