textfiles/sex/EROTICA/D/d_diary.txt

                           DEAR DIARY
                            By Parker

     WARNING: This story contains bondage, S/M, non-consensual
     intercourse, D/S and all that sort of good stuff. If you do
     not want to read this kind of material, it would be best if
     you stopped now. I mean it. This story is NOT POLITICALLY
     CORRECT (although I hope that it is grammatically correct).
          Copyright 1993 by Parker (me). Feel free to distribute
          this story as you wish, but be discreet. Obviously, it
          is not suitable for all BBSs.

=================================================================

     MAY 22
     Dear Diary,
     The most extraordinary thing happened this morning. I was
out in the garden doing some pruning (the garden is going to look
so good this year - the roses should be marvellous) when two
girls wandered into the yard, wearing large rucksacks on their
backs. I say girls, but really they were proper young women; they
grow up so quickly these days. The oldest looked to be in her
mid-twenties and the younger perhaps eighteen or nineteen years
of age. Certainly too old to be traipsing about in the fields as
they were.
     Brazen as a pair of young turks, the pair wandered up to me
and - without so much as an introduction - demanded to use my
telephone. Well! The reason for their lack of manners was
immediately evident: Americans! I had never actually visited
their horrid country, being perfectly content on the Braemor
estate (although I must, to be honest, confess a fondness for our
dear little flat in London), but Nigel had been there a number of
times on business and had gone on at great length regarding our
former colonials. In fact, he was there right now, obliged by
business to leave the estate.
     Well, right then and there I determined that these girls
must be taught some manners. Besides, things were so quiet on the
estate with Nigel away; it would provide a spot of fun if nothing
else.
     "What brings you to Scotland?" I asked, leading the two
American girls through the rear entrance, past the pantry and
into the servant's kitchen.
     The older one - her name was Karen (she had finally
introduced herself; the younger one was named Jennifer) -
explained that they had been on a camping tour of the Highlands
when they had become separated from their party while on a ramble
through the countryside. Apparently, they had been wandering,
lost, for most of the afternoon. They had absolutely no idea
where they were.
     Poor dears.
      I bade them sit down at the small table in the servant's
kitchen while I arranged for a cup of tea. I suppose that it was
rude to keep guests in the servant's quarters, but really, I
didn't feel that they were worthy to enter the house proper.
Nigel says that I am a terrible snob about things like that, but
that is the way I feel.
      They didn't seem to notice.
     I went through into the dining room and rang for Darcy. He
is such a treasure; never even batted an eyelash when I asked him
to dissolve half a dozen of Nigel's sleeping tablets into the
tea. As usual, he was the perfect servant, bringing the pot in
and carefully pouring out three cups.
     I was most cunning, pretending to drink my tea while the
girls, evidently thirsty from their extended ramble, quickly
polished off the pot. Within minutes both were groggy and they
soon fell to sleeping, heads resting on the table.
     I gave Darcy some instructions and he carried the girls
upstairs to the spare bedrooms to prepare them while I went
through their rucksacks.
      LATER...
     The older girl is named Karen Jenson. According to her
driver's licence, she comes from a town named Point Hope in
California. Her friend is also from California. I might have
guessed; they both have deep, rich tans. Very unusual for this
part of the world, as the weather in the highlands is cloudy more
often than not. Well, I expect that the tans will fade quickly
enough over the next few months.
     In Karen's picture, her blonde hair is long and straight,
but she has since cut it quite severely short. Silly bint; it
looks so much more feminine when it is longer. She shall have to
grow it out again. She is twenty-five years old. Her licence puts
her height at 5'9" and weight at 110 lbs (I wonder what that is
in stone?). Darcy, after preparing our "guests" in the upstairs
bedrooms, ventured the opinion that she is an athlete or some
sort of dancer. He dropped off the girls' clothing (utterly
horrible; I ordered him to burn the repulsive apparel in the
garden) and a large engagement ring he said came off Karen's left
hand. Rather ostentatious, I thought, but then they are American.
I told him to toss the gaudy thing into the pond at the back of
the garden; our Karen won't be needing it anymore.
      The younger one - Jennifer Blackstone - also comes from
California, but from a different town: Bakersville. She has curly
brown hair which falls in waves down to her shoulders. I must
say, I approve of her hair style much more than that of her older
friend. Jennifer is twenty years old (oh la... and I had guessed
eighteen or nineteen); she is shorter than her friend - 5'4" -
and weighs 105 lbs. No engagement ring from her, so I assume that
she is unattached. Perhaps this is rash of me; with young women
today, the niceties of a formal engagement are often disregarded.
Still, I prefer to think the best of people. It is one of my
failings.
     Darcy has just informed me that their effects have been
disposed of as I ordered. It is time, I think, to look in on my
new charges.
          LATER...
     They were still sleeping when I looked in and showed every
sign of continuing to do so for some time. Perhaps we overdid it
with the sleeping pills. No matter; they will awaken soon enough.
     Darcy has done a brilliant job of preparation. They have
both been stripped naked and are chained, spreadeagled, on
separate beds in separate bedrooms. After one glance at Karen's
nude body, I can see where he formed his opinion of our Karen's
profession.
      Darcy has put the various artifacts of Nigel's ill-fated
(and, I should add, much warned against) venture into the field
of dog breeding to good use. Each girl wears a leather dog collar
at her throat, and has each limb fastened to a corner of a bed by
a modified collar connected to a lead chain.
      Darcy is so good at this sort of thing. The sight of the
girls gives me a number of new ideas regarding possible uses for
Nigel's discarded equipment. I made a few suggestions to Darcy
and he got right to work making the necessary modifications. I do
hope Nigel won't mind.
     We may even get some use out of those old kennels of his.
     I must say, the sight of the two girls gave me a rather
naughty idea of my own. I blush to write this, but if I cannot be
honest with myself, with whom may I do so? I often become quite
lonely when Nigel is away for protracted periods of time on his
business trips. He is a very understanding man, and, on our last
trip to London, we went on an excursion to some shops in Soho to
purchase a few (this is a little embarrassing) sex aids.
      They are such a comfort when Nigel is away.
     I decided to try them out on the girls. Karen got the pink
vibrator; the big one. Well, she is - or was - engaged, and
doubtless has more than a little experience. (A girl of her sort
always does.) I had to grease it up somewhat to get it into her,
but in it went, like a rabbit down a hole. I set the timer to run
at two minutes on and three minutes off and then turned on the
power. It immediately began buzzing from within the girl's... (I
really don't know the right word to use here) "thingy". She
moaned and tossed her head a bit, but didn't wake.
     For Jennifer, I thought something a little smaller was in
order, but I basically set it up the same way and left it turned
on. The delicious buzzing sound was clearly audible in the dark
as I closed the door.
      I am so looking forward to tomorrow.

     MAY 23
     Dear Diary,
     Mixed news, I'm afraid. As I suspected, the older one is
causing some difficulty. She struggles ceaselessly, and refuses
to co-operate in any way. Why, I was forced to...
     Ahh, perhaps I get ahead of myself. I'll relate events as
they occurred. One must be properly organised, even in one's
diary.
     I checked in on young Jennifer first thing the next morning.
She looked so delicious, tied there on the bed, squirming madly
as my little friend buzzed happily away inside her. Her body,
well-formed although not as sleek and muscular as that of her
older friend, was covered with a fine sheen of perspiration.
     When I reached down to remove the vibrator, she was slick
and wet; she had obviously been enjoying herself. Well really, I
thought, and such a young girl. I was tempted to become rather
cross with her, but she has such lovely, pleading brown eyes that
I just could not be angry with her. She is such a dear. And
perhaps I was at least partially to blame for her behaviour. As I
said, I like to think the best of people.
     Gently, not wanting to frighten her, I brushed her curly
hair from her face and removed the gag (I should mention here
that Darcy had once again done a marvellous job at converting
some of Nigel's sports equipment, this time into a wonderful
little ball gag).
     "Please."
     Her voice was a hoarse whisper. I brought a cup up to her
parched lips and gave her a sip of my tea. She swallowed
gratefully and then looked up at me.
     "Please," she whispered. "Where am I?"
      She had a soft, lovely voice, marred only by her harsh
American accent.
     "In Scotland, my dear," I answered. "You are on my estate
just outside Braemar."
     She looked around, puzzled. Almost absentmindedly, she began
to struggle against her binding.
     "Who are you? What am I doing here." Then, an afterthought.
"Where's Karen?"
     "Your friend is in another room," I told her. "My name is
unimportant. You must refer to me as (I thought this was a clever
bit) 'Mistress'. You work for me now."
     "Mistress?"
      She seemed more curious than frightened at first, but then
tears welled up in her big brown eyes and she began to sob. Poor
thing; it will be a shock at first.
     I replaced Darcy's wonderful gag, snapping shut the clips on
the leather strap. Jennifer looked up at me, moaning through her
tears, but I was not moved. One cannot show weakness before the
help.
     Before I left, I replaced the vibrator. She struggled and
shook her head, but I could tell that she liked it. Quite
delightful.

     Unfortunately I cannot report the same regarding Karen, the
older girl. When I entered her room, she immediately began to
thrash about on the bed, screaming abuse at me from behind her
gag, using the most shocking language! Imagine. As well, she had
managed to expel my little friend from within her; it lay buzzing
uselessly on the bed in between her spreadeagled legs.
     Well, I tried to calm her down. I sat next to her on the bed
and whispered soothing words to her while stroking her forehead,
but it was no use. She just glared her hatred up at me with her
beady little green eyes. Goodness only knows what would have
happened if I had removed the gag.
      What could I do?
      In the end, I resolved to give her more time with the
vibrator. In order to make certain she didn't expel it again, I
called Darcy in and he managed - quite ingeniously - to rig a
makeshift harness using some of Nigel's old lead chains. One
length went around the thin waste of that hateful girl, and
another, this one clipped onto the vibrator, went under her
crotch and was attached at the front and back. She screamed and
thrashed about like a child, but the intruder remained within
her.
     Now, perhaps, she will learn some manners.

     MAY 28
     Dear Diary,
     What a busy time we have had of it these last few days! Who
would ever have imagined that training new help would prove so
time consuming? I'm afraid that I have been a little delinquent
in keeping up these entries, but I will try to make up for it
now.
     Jennifer has been coming along nicely. After two days on the
bed with her little friend, she became most co-operative. I am
now convinced that she is a most sensible young lady. I confess
to being a little surprised at this; I had expected all Americans
to be loud and boorish (like Karen - more on her later). I
suspect that I will have to reconsider my opinion on this matter.
     I brought Darcy with me when we released her from the bed.
He clipped a leash to her throat collar, and then undid the ankle
and wrist fastenings. Jennifer just brought her hands together
and tried to cover her small breasts as best she could.
Delightful!
     "Jennifer," I said, trying to keep a firm tone with her,
"modesty is becoming in a young lady of position, but is somewhat
anachronistic in a servant."
     She sniffed as if about to cry, but then slowly moved her
hands away from her breasts.
     "That's better," I nodded approvingly. "Now, are you hungry
young lady?"
     She nodded. "Y-yes... mistress."
     She remembered! What a clever girl.
     "Well then," I told her, "You'd best go with Darcy. He will
feed you and set out your duties."
     Her eyes widened at this, but she obeyed immediately, moving
slowly and stiffly to her feet. Darcy tugged on the leash and she
began to follow.
     "One moment, my dear," I interjected. "Are you not
forgetting something."
     She looked over at me, obviously puzzled.
     "Your little friend," I explained, pointed at her crotch.
"Perhaps you should remove it."
     Blushing, she reached down and slowly pulled the vibrator
from her... (well, I suppose I may as well say it) pussy. It was
slick and wet.
     "Ah," I said, "You got on alright, then?"
     If possible, she flushed an even brighter shade of red,
dropping her eyes and nodding hesitantly. She turned away to
follow Darcy, but I grasped her chin in my hand and forced her to
look me in the eye.
     "Young lady, when I ask you a question, I expect you to look
at me and answer it. Do I make myself understood?" It is best to
be firm in the beginning; it saves so much trouble later on.
     "Y-yes mistress," she stammered.
     "Well then, did you get on alright with your little friend?"
     "Yes mistress... I l-liked having it... inside me." She
flushed again, but didn't drop her gaze. A tear trickled down one
cheek.
      I brushed it away. I could become quite fond of this girl.
     Darcy gave another tug on the leash and she followed him out
of the room.
      As before, Karen reacted violently to my presence.
      This time, however, I removed the gag in order to give her
something to drink. She gulped thirstily at the cup of water, but
when it was finished, she began to scream at me.
     "Who the fuck are you," she shrieked. "Why are you keeping
me her, you cunt?"
     Well, really.
      I tried to explain the situation to her, but she absolutely
refused to listen. She just continued to yell at me, all the
while straining at her bonds. A few moments later, Darcy entered
the room and helped me replace the gag. It was not easy and she
even tried to bite me at one point, but we eventually muddled
through.
     "Madam," Darcy spoke, puffing slightly from his exertions,
"perhaps we should attempt a more... forceful form of
persuasion?"
     He was, of course, referring the cane. Nigel kept one in his
den as a souvenir from his days as a schoolmaster.
      I looked down at the wretched girl as she struggled on the
bed. The harness holding the vibrator in her pussy was still
intact, but she showed little signs of sexual excitement. The bed
was wet, but my sense of smell told me that it was not from
arousal.
      Well, I decided, there is nothing for it.
     I nodded at Darcy.
      "And bring Jennifer," I ordered. "She should see this."
      Darcy left the room to fetch the cane. I looked back down at
Karen. She glared at me.
     "You have no one to blame but yourself," I told her. "A
little more effort with your manners and none of this would be
necessary." I feel that it is important that one should explain a
punishment before it occurs. It is so much more effective if the
subject is made aware of the reasons behind it.
     Darcy re-entered the room, cane in one hand and Jennifer's
leash in the other. She stumbled in behind him. The darling young
girl's eyes widened in panic as she saw her older friend for the
first time in days, but she said nothing.
      I left the room as Darcy began to lay down a pattern of
stripes on the wayward girl's tummy.

     Jennifer came along quickly after that day.
     I don't know how he managed it, but Darcy located a
marvellous little maid's uniform for her, all wisp and frills. It
barely covered her naughty bits. I must say, she looks quite
darling in it.
     We still keep her hobbled with short ankle chains while she
works around the house, but I really don't think it is necessary
any longer. Still, better safe than sorry.
     Darcy did have to use the cane on her once, just the other
day. It was his suggestion - and a cracking good one at that -
that young Jennifer be given some lessons in how to please a man.
Nigel will surely expect a certain amount of this sort of skill
in a domestic.
     I agreed, but only gave him permission to use her mouth.
Jennifer is no virgin, but I am certain that Nigel will want to
deal with her personally in that fashion.
     Jennifer was given her instructions, but refused to carry
them out, even when threatened with the cane. It was inevitable,
I suppose. At any rate, it took only a dozen smacks on her lovely
backside before she tearfully changed her mind.
     Darcy, ever attentive to duty, now gives her this special
training at least two or three times a day. One can often hear
him giving instruction in his quiet, proper voice:
     "There you are, young lady," he says, "take it all in... you
     must suck it into the back of your throat while massaging
     the underside with your tongue... That's it; you're doing
     rather well now. Rather well. Now, open your throat and let
     it slide down... breathe through your nose... there you go.
     There is no need to panic. You should be able to feel my
     balls resting against your chin..."      And so on.
     Darcy assures me that she is coming along splendidly.

     Still no progress with Karen, despite the fact that Darcy
has caned her on three separate occasions now. I don't know what
is to be done with her.

     MAY 29
     Dear Diary,
     We had the most frightening thing occur today.
     A police constable - Ned Smith from Braemar; I recognized
him from the last village fete (although he didn't seem to
recognize me) - came by today asking questions about two American
girls who had gone missing in the area. He was, of course,
inquiring about Karen and Jennifer.
     From my position at the door I could see both girls in the
front living room.
     Jennifer was kneeling down in front of Darcy, dressed only
in her maid's uniform, her lovely mouth servicing Darcy's penis.
     Karen was there too.
      We had finally resolved to get her out of the guest bed, if
only to allow Jennifer a chance to change the sheets. The
wretched girl was now bound up in a stringent position by the
ever-resourceful Darcy. Hands secured behind her back, she was on
her knees, bent over at the waist as the chain on her collar had
been clipped tightly to a ring in the floor. Her knees were
pulled outward by two elastic straps, forcing her to strain to
keep her legs closed. If she relaxed, her legs were pulled apart
and her pussy was lowered onto a large dildo (another of my
"toys" from Soho) Darcy had fixed to the floor. Over the past few
hours, she had grunted and perspired, trying desperately to keep
her legs closed, but the straps inevitably won, inexorably
sliding her further and further down onto the dildo. After a
while, she would seem to give up, and allow herself to be
completely impaled (imagine! the "toy" was ten inches long), but
then she would grunt in anger and squeeze herself up off the
intruder.
     "Sorry to bother you mum," the Constable stated, "I was
wondering if you had seen either of these two girls around here?"
He produced a picture of Karen and Jennifer.
     Well, he spoke with a thick, Scottish brogue, but it was not
so thick that the girls couldn't hear and understand him! Karen
reacted first, grunting as loud as she could from behind the gag
and energetically banging her head and shoulders on the floor.
Jennifer moaned and tried to turn her head, but she was
constrained by Darcy, who quickly turned on Nigel's stereo. The
sound of the music easily covered up any noises the girls might
make. I could still see them struggling, but there was no way the
Constable could hear them.
     I pretended to examine the photograph.
     "No," I said finally, "I can't say I have. Have they gone
missing, then?"
     "Aye," the Constable nodded. He took back the picture and
placed it carefully in his jacket pocket. In the living room,
Jennifer was still trying to pull away from Darcy's crotch, but
he held her firm. He looked like he was about to achieve his
orgasm.
      "They went missing about a week ago," the Constable
continued. "From the Loch Corivain area. They were camping with
some friends and wandered off."
     "Well," I said brightly, "they haven't turned up here. I'll
ring you if I come across them."
     "Oh, aye," he nodded, turning away, "and we'd appreciate it,
we would. Cheers then."
     The Constable walked slowly away down the path leading to
the road. In the living room, Darcy was obviously in the throes
of an orgasm; Jennifer had stopped struggling and was swallowing
as quickly as she could. As Darcy had said earlier, she was
becoming well trained.
     Karen, on the other hand, seemed to be going mad!
      She was thrashing about in her constraints, crying and
grunting as loudly as she could. The dildo ran in and out of her
dry pussy as she threw herself back in forth trying to get free.
Finally, she let out a loud cry and sank forward, sobbing.
      Then, a most disgusting thing occurred. With a loud fart (I
blush even to write the word), the horrible girl relaxed her
bowels and began defecating and urinating on the floor.
      "Good lord!"
     Darcy pushed Jennifer away from him, causing a long string
of sperm to stretch out from his penis to her mouth. Ignoring it,
he pulled up his trousers and strode across the room to where
Karen continued to relieve herself.
      I am ashamed to report that I could only watch in stunned
silence, unable to react. Really, though, it is not the sort of
situation one could ever be prepared for. Especially a lady such
as myself.
     Darcy reached down and began slapping the wretched girl on
her backside.
     "Stop it," he ordered, raising his voice. "Stop it this
instant."
     He continued to slap her as she stopped defecating and the
stream of urine slowed to a trickle. Finally, it stopped
altogether, and Karen slumped down into a pile of her own waste.
     "You little animal!"
     I could tell that Darcy was enraged. He didn't become angry
very often, but when he did, it was terrible to behold. It fell
to him to keep the house neat and tidy and it was a job he took
seriously. I have seen him beat a maid for failing to dust
properly.
     "If you can't control yourself," he continued, "perhaps you
need to be controlled."
       He cast about, looking for something, and then picked up the
feather duster. Moving quickly, he reached down and began
inserting the handle into Karen's dirty bottom. The wretched girl
began to moan again, but was unable to stop him. When he was
done, only about six inches of the handle stuck out of her
backside before the feathers spread out.
     "Darcy!"
     I finally regained control of my voice. He stiffened,
bringing himself to his full height and turned to face me. His
face was flushed red.
     "Madam?"
     "Have you gone mad?"
      I had expressly told him that he was not to use the girls in
this manner. That was for his master!
      At his feet, Karen tried to expel the intruder by shaking
her backside, but only succeeded in waving it about. The sight
looked strangely familiar.
     "Madam?" he repeated.
     I needed time to think.
     "Jennifer," I turned away to look at our brown-haired little
maid. She remained where he had left her, on her knees with spots
of sperm all over her pretty chin. "Get yourself cleaned up and
then see to the floor here. I expect all sign of this unpleasant
incident to be removed from the living room within the hour."
     "Yes mistress," she answered, getting awkwardly to her feet.
Smoothing down her skirt, she left the room, moving with the
small, mincing steps mandated by the chain hobble.
     I turned back to Darcy.
     He stood at attention, looking straight at me. Karen
continued to shake her backside, but with little luck. She had
begun to make quiet yelping sounds, almost like...
     Then I had the most marvellous idea! Perhaps Darcy was
right; she was a little animal. And we already had one maid.
     Perhaps we would get some use out of Nigel's kennels after
all...

      AUG 23
     Dear Diary,
     I am writing this entry while seated in Nigel's comfy chair
in the bedroom. My legs are spread wide on the ottoman and our
Jennifer is diligently performing her now-daily duties. Darcy has
trained her well, and she is exquisite.
     She is no longer chained.
     The little dear seems completely resigned to her new
position in life as our maid, and no longer demonstrates even the
slightest hint of rebellion. Well, that is not quite true. Every
once in a while, either Darcy or I will come upon her when she
does not suspect it and we will catch her gazing out the window,
tears running down her face.
     Ah well... young girls are so emotional.

     LATER:
     Jennifer has finished up between my legs and is now running
my bath. Nigel is coming home tomorrow, and I wish to look my
best.
     I hear a barking from the garden out back...

     It was Darcy, continuing Karen's training. He tells me that
it is going quite well. As I watch through the bedroom window, he
has her running through the garden, fetching a stick and carrying
it for him.
      He has outdone himself with her.
     She is naked, of course (Darcy boasts that she will never
wear clothing again), except for a set of thick pads on her knees
and tight, fingerless mittens on her hands. These items are never
removed; Darcy has sewed them shut and set a layer of glue over
the stitching. Her mouth is kept open by an "O"-shaped muzzle;
she can still receive food and manipulate her tongue, but she
cannot bite down or speak in any way. Of course, Darcy will not
let her speak in any case. She is only permitted the sounds a dog
would make: barking, yelping and growling. Darcy says she has
become quite proficient at the growling.
      Her arms and legs are secured by an ingenious set of chains
and bars which keep her on all fours at all times. As with the
gloves, these are permanently attached. She will never walk
upright again.
     Finally, the feather-duster has been replaced by a real dog
tail. Darcy has modified one of my dildos by adding on a long
tuft of golden hair. He tried so hard to get it to match her
natural hair colour, but I don't think he has succeeded. It is,
however, the thought that counts. Our Karen is now able to wag
her tail quite convincingly. I am told that it is only removed
when she needs to defecate, which she indicates by whining in a
certain manner.
     Of course, she also wears her leather dog collar.
     Darcy has worked wonders. She has become quite the little
bitch. Darcy has even been talking about purchasing a real dog -
male of course - to keep her company in her lonely kennel. I
think that this is a marvellous idea, but I will leave the final
decision up to Nigel. I suspect that Nigel will feel the same way
I do.
     Oh, Nigel. I really can't wait to show him the new additions
to our household.
     The sound of the bathwater stops and Jennifer comes into the
bedroom.
      "Mistress," she says quietly, eyes downward, "your bath is
ready." Her beautiful brown hair falls enticingly across her
flushed face.
     Out in the garden, Karen has had her tail removed and is
relieving herself against a tree, one leg in the air.
     Nigel will be so pleased...

                           THE END