textfiles/sex/EROTICA/A/amy.txt

Let me tell you a little bit about me.  When my great adventure
began, I was young© age 25©and not very experienced.  Oh, I had
sex any number of times, in a number of different ways, but I
never felt the wild excitement in actually doing those things
that I imagined in advance. I had a million different, very kinky
fantasies, things that I really wanted to do but was afraid to
try, even if I had the opportunity to try© which I really didn't
have.  Mostly, my fantasies involved me as a sort of slave girl,
captured by some strong individual.  Some days I imagined my
master to be a male and sometimes a female, with special events
for each one. What I thought I really wanted was a strong master
or mistress, one who also had wild sexual fantasies, and who
would take charge of me and would then act out those fantasies,
obviously with me playing out the part of slave girl, used by
master (or maybe better yet, mistress) in strange and delicious
ways, hopefully with an audience watching©© and most delicious of
all, whether I liked it or not.  I wanted strange and sexy things
to happen and not have any say as to the agenda, to be used,
perhaps even to be a little bit abused.   My figure is good, that is, I think it is good, and maybe you
will agree© that is, you will if you like full bodied girls with
large, shapely titties.  I am tall, about 5'7", with a nice, full
shapely bust, good legs, and a delicious round bottom.  I love
being nude, and enjoy other people seeing me nude.  I have even
posed nude for a guy, just for fun, very naughty, very sexy
pictures, like me masturbating for him, with a large rubber
dildo© or, for example his favorite shot© me urinating for him,
the stream shooting out like a waterfall.  I did find that very 
exciting (though I would just die if those pictures ever got out)
and no, I won't show YOU the pictures, either.  I also did pose
nude once for a very, very sexy amateur lady photographer, but
that is completely a different story that I do not intend to tell
you today.  All I will say about that is that she was dressed
when she took the first pictures of me, she was nude when she
took the last pictures of me, and the very best pictures would
have been taken a while later, but by then, frankly, she was too
busy to think about taking pictures. She had her mind on
something else (and her tongue into something else, too).  I love reading about kinky sex.  Sometimes I go to the porno
shops, to look at the fascinating things they write about, and to
look at the exciting array of rubber dildos and accessories that
they sell.  I even bought a couple of those things  strictly as a
scientific experiment, you understand. I know a nice shop in
Miami that sells remarkable stuff and I have purchased four
different dildos and a couple of rubber butt pluggers.  I adore
playing with these toys, and had a secret fantasy about somebody
else putting them into me (instead of me doing it myself).  If it
was a super sexy guy who did it, and if he started me out with a
nice, bare bottomed spanking, that would be just great.  And if
it was a marvelous, beautiful, dominant super sexy lady who did
it to me, that would be the greatest.!!!!           In one of the shops I found a magazine, a Swingers Journal that
seemed interesting.  It had just fascinating pictures, especially
in the B&D area that was my particular excitement at the time. 
The ads seemed like fun.  One of these showed a guy whose area of
interest was in spankings, enemas, and Greek  things about which
I had many secret thoughts but not much real experience.  I
decided that I would answer this particular ad  not intending
ever to meet this guy, but rather, just to hear what he had to
say.  A week or so later I got a letter from him, with a nude picture.
His name was Tom.  He was a divorcee.  He was about 35, well
built, well hung, too.  And he was holding a leather paddle in
his hand and hanging from the ceiling next to him was a large
enema bag, a long rubber hose attached to it, and connected to
the end of that, a black rubber looking device that got inserted
into the recipient of this enema, and really did the work.  It
looked like a huge, erect, black penis.   Believe me, it was an
impressive picture.  His letter told about how he liked to be masterful, how he
thought that there was no sight so beautiful as a naked, shapely,
female bottom, and nothing he liked to do so much as to pet it,
to kiss it    and to spank it until it was rosy pink.  Then, when
she was fully ready and receptive, to give her a long, slow, deep
enema, filling her fuller than she had ever been filled before,
using, of course, a Bardex so that she could not expel it until
permitted. And then to lubricate her pretty asshole, greasing it
generously until it was slippery, and then to fuck it deeply and
firmly.  His letter excited me tremendously.  He became an
instantaneous member in my library of fantasies.  I wrote back to him, he replied again, and this time included a
telephone number.  I stared at that for a long time.  I knew that
calling the number was taking a very serious step  that there was
at least a chance that I would follow up and visit him at, as he
described it, his Domination Laboratory.  I did call the number. 
When he replied, his voice was much as I expected it to be, and
the conversation also was about what I had expected.  We agreed
to meet  not at his place, but on neutral ground, at a certain
coffee shop, nothing else promised but the meeting.  I was
willing to go that far in advance, but no further at all.  Oh, I
knew I would go ahead and meet him at the coffee shop, but I did have serious doubts about whether I would go from there to his
place.  The day of the meeting came, and as promised, I went.  In fact, I
got there early so that I could scout out the scene, and if he
showed, and if I did not like his looks up close, I could sneak
out.  Well, he did show up on time, and I did like his looks.  We
had an fascinating conversation about everything else in the
world except sex.  We found a million things to talk about, found
lots of areas of common interest, a few fun things to fightÜjÜabout, too.  After a long time© maybe as much as a couple of
hours, it was time to leave.  I declined to go to his place yet,
but since I did not have a car with me© I had hopped on the bus
to get there© he drove me home.  As luck would have it, a vacant
parking place was right there almost at my front door.  He walked
me to the door, and right into my apartment. What happened next
was an awful long way from what our letters talked about.  We
were soon petting and in short order he had me out of my sweater
and bra, and soon out of everything else.  He got me very
excited, undressed himself and showed off a nice looking, very
erect penis.  We did have very nice, normal sex.  It was fun,
pleasant, and certainly not earth shaking.  I am not even sure
now that he made me cumm that night. I don't think so, but then,
I rarely do in regular intercourse.  He called me again the following week.  Soon, we were dating,
more or less regularly, having good sex once or twice a week, but
no domination, no spankings.  One evening we did go to his place. 
This time, he showed me his laboratory© a room in the basement,
with wood paneled walls, a large, sturdy oak library table with a
gym mat as a top, and a rubber sheet over it.  That was the
laboratory.  We wondered what it would be like if I was up on it,
bottom©up.  I complied.  Attached to each leg of the table was a
leather strap.  He put a leather dog collar around each of my
wrists, and then fastened the wrist to one of the leather strapsªstretching my arms out wide, and helpless.  Very quickly, my
ankles were similarly fastened.  I was now spreadeagled,
completely under his control.  Sid he now take charge completely?  Absolutely not.  He talked to
me, and came back to our early correspondence, and what I had
told him I wanted him to do.  And all this time, his hands were
wandering over my bare ass.  Suddenly, SPLATT!!! He whacked me
with his big, bare hand across my ass.  It stung a little bit,
but certainly did not really HURT.  Again.......and again....a
few more times.  Then he went to the closet.  He took out a
leather strop.  Long and wicked looking.  He talked to me some
more.  And then he raised the strop and swished it, fairly hard,
across my ass.  It did hurt© but it felt good at the same time. 
He gave me a fairly thorough spanking that day, followed by the
love enema he had talked about.. a long, slow enema that took 20
or 30 minutes to go in.  Along the way a couple of times I told
him that I could not take any more.  Each time, he would stop the
water flow for a while until I got used to the feeling...and then
start it again.  Eventually, he gave me as much as he wanted me
to have, but then he made me keep it in for a while longer.   After he finally did let me expel it into the toilet, I got to
rest a while, but then he did greek me.  He first expanded my
anus with a greased finger, and then two and three at the same
time, stretching me.  He had a conical, rubber dildo©a buttªplugger.  Slowly, almost tenderly, he inserted it in me until the
thickest part was past the sphincter.  In it went the rest of the
way, the thick rim preventing it from going in too far.  He askedÜjÜme how it felt.  Actually, it felt almost marvelous.  I was
almost disappointed when he pulled it out© and I was shocked when
from his drawer he pulled out a still©larger version of the same
thing.  This looked too big to ever get into such a tight place. 
However, with patience, and perseverance and plenty of pressure,
he did get it innnnnnnnnnn© slowly, stretching me larger, until
the largest diameter passed the sphincter and it was lodged fully
up inside me.  He gave me a little more of the leather strop, so
I could have the two sensations together.  After a while, the
rubber plug came out.  He got up astride, put the blunt, rigid
end of his cock against my now stretched rosette.  After what had
happened so far, that did not really hurt at all© it was sort of
tight, but not painful.  And to me, the sensation of being fucked
in the ass by a masterful man was just marvelous, though I must
say that never did I have the feeling that I was out of control. 
I always felt that any time I really wanted him to stop and go no
further, that he would have without question.  Never did I feel
totally dominated, subjugated, like the subdued slave©girl I
really wanted to be.  The next time or two that we were together, things were much the
same.  After we had done the same things a few times, we began to
talk about fantasies, and he made me tell him mine. It relates to
Mrs. Olsen, who was my landlady, and who really disliked me. If I ever was going to try the slave©girl experience, totally
controlled by another, she would be absolutely my first choice.  Now the wierd thing about her was that she once had been a strong
disciplinarian, a teacher in one of those strange schools where
the students are punished.  I overheard her telling a lady friend
once that she did have an experience.  She had a student who
badly needed the discipline, and nothing  that Mrs. Olsen ever
did seemed to make that one shape up. Repeated applications of
the leather did not make any difference.  The cure for her,
according to Mrs. Olsen, was that she was given a thorough
stropping, forced to take a number of tablespoons of castor oil,
thank Mrs. Olsen for each one, stropped some more, and then given
a large mouthful of Mrs. Olsen's shit to eat, a tablespoonful at
a time.  I overheard this and never forgot it.  And, I am sure, I
masturbated about it a thousand times.  That was my fantasy.  I
wanted to be taken over by somebody who disliked me, stripped,
spanked thoroughly, made to eat her pussy, and then more
humiliating things.  Now understand about Mrs. Olsen.  She is tall and strong, a very
handsome woman, with a very potent personality.  She is about 45. 
There is no Mr. Olsen around.  I do not know if she is a widow or
a divorcee© she is not the kind of person that you ask questions
of.  We genuinely do not like each other.  I think she is
overbearing.  She thinks that I am wild, spoiled, disrespectful. 
While she is my landlady, I cannot wait to get out of there, and
she cannot wait to have me gone. But she still is very much in my
fantasies. This story, embellished somewhat, is what I told to
Tom. He is very interested in this, and says that he is going toÜjÜlook into making it all happen. He had me write him a letter,
detailing all this, though how exactly he plans to make use of
it, I do not know.  Today, Tom called at lunch time and asked me to come over this
evening, and to be sure to be there before 8:00 PM.  He says that
we might, just might, have company, though he won't say who and
he won't say what.  I am fantasizing about this, have been all
day now, not knowing what to expect. Today is Thursday, I
thought, and today is the day that perhaps I am going to meet my
fate.  Thomas had heard my story and questioned me on it in
detail.  He knew what I think I want.  He was delighted to help
me, to play in our little drama.  He had my letter, written in my
own hand, addressed to him, which detailed everything.  He had
also purchased a pint bottle of castor oil at the drug store©the
only item on the list that he did not have in advance.  And he
had made the calls, I believe, talked to Mrs. Olsen, explained
our relationship, and had her surprised (and he says, delighted
and enthusiastic) agreement to participate.  He told her that he
had been regularly spanking me, had nude photos of me that he
knew she would want to see, and had ideas of advanced discipline
for me that he wanted to discuss with her.  She was cautious, but
interested© after all, this was really right up her alley, and it
was being handed to her on a silver platter, so to speak.  This time, for the first time, I did not drive to his place.  I
knew that if the adventure was going to go according to his plan
that I would be taken home, in bondage, by Mrs. Olsen.  My car
would only be in the way.  I went there by cab, dressed as usual
in jeans and a sweater.  The clothes made no difference.  I would
be nude as soon as I got there.  Thomas' house was no different
than at any other time.  The furnishings are sparse, but
adequate. The room down in the basement, which was the "playroom"
had wood paneled walls, with various hooks and eyes, and the
large, very sturdy oak library table with a padded top. On the
floor stood a brown paper bag.  I was instructed to strip down to
my panties, but to leave them on© a pair of black nylon bikini
panties that he had bought for me that he liked. I was  to put
each article of clothing that I removed into that paper bag. 
Soon enough I was almost nude, trembling slightly, though not
from fright.  Thomas had seen me nude now a number of times and
had used me in the various ways that a punished girl is used. 
Instead, I was trembling in anticipation.  This might be the
night that Mrs. Olsen would join us, and if she did, there was no
telling how the agenda might go. This time, for preparation, all
that happened was that Tom put wrist cuffs on me and fastened my
wrists behind my back.  I was helpless.  And I was wondering if
she would appear© and if she did appear if she would participateªand if she did participate, how severe she would be with me. I had fantasies about how she would be dressed.  No matter what
she had on top, I knew that she would wear a black merry©widow, a
short corset like garment, only hip length, and with that, black
opera©length hose and garters.  And of course, black panties that
revealed more than they hid, through which would clearly beÜjÜvisible her fulsome behind. I had seen her dressed this way, and
it really depressed me.  It also really excited me.  I had
visions of kissing that large, shapely bottom, of thrusting my
tongue up inside© and I hated these visions.  And secretly begged
that she make it happen.  I stood, just marking time.  The phone range.  Tom went upstairs
to talk, and seemed gone forever.  Then the doorbell rang.  I
could hear voices as he answered upstairs, but could not identify
who was there.  I could only hope.  Footsteps could be heard© two
pair were coming down the stairs© and there she was!! Mrs. Velma Olsen stood there, looking just gorgeous, dressed in a
simple, severe black dress.  She looked around the room, looked
finally at me, standing wearing only my panties, my wrists
fastened behind my back.  "My dear", she said. "You cannot
imagine how glad I am to see you here.  And looking so lovely,
too".  I stood still as her hands ran across my lower body, fondling my
bottom, gently squeezing one cheek of my ass.  Her hands ran up
my front, taking hold of each bare breast and fondling me.  She
took my nipples, each between a thumb and forefinger and gently
squeezed, bringing them to instant erection©©©and using my
nipples to pull by, dragged me in very close.  "Let me see your
tongue", she commanded.  I opened my mouth, showed her the tip of
my tongue.  Squeezing somewhat harder, she ordered me
"Further,darling.  Stick it all the way out so that i can see
it."  I complied.  She opened her mouth, and we deep©kissed.  And
gently, she bit down on my tongue.  Not very hard, but hard
enough.  This was not at all what I had expected.  "My dear", she said, "Tom has told me how naughty you have been. I am not really surprised, but it is nice to have confirmation
that I have been correct.  He has asked that I help in modifying
your behavior.  Won't that be fun?"  And in saying that she
squeezed hard on each erect nipple, making me gasp.  She removed the black frock.  She did not have the merry©widow
on©rather, she was wearing only a sexy looking deep©cut black
bra, and black panty hose.  This emphasized her curvaceous
figure, and with her high heels, she had a totally queenly
appearance.  Tom, watching closely© his eyes popping out at the
sight© was obviously very erect.  It seemed certain that at least
for now, he was going to be a voyeur in this drama© not a direct
participant.  It also seemed that he did not mind in the least.  Velma sat, and pulled me over her lap, bottom©up.  Her hands
fondled my bikini©clad rump, squeezing here and there, probing a
bit.  A hand ran inside the waist band and squeezed naked flesh©
not hard, but rather more a loving squeeze.  She quickly pulled
my panties down, tugged them all the way off, and asked me to
open my legs so that she could see all my parts. Her hands probed
here and there.  First a finger touched all around my vulva,
testing for creaminess.  I was sopping wet.  The finger probedÜjÜinward, deeply, came out again and rubbed gently across my now
erect clit, almost making me leap off her lap.  The finger found
its way between the upturned cheeks of my bottom, found the
rosebud pointing up at her, gently forced its way inside, full
depth.  This also seemed to please her.  "Ooh yes, you are just lovely," she said, "just the way I knew
you would be".  And she raised her right hand and spanked me fiercely across one
cheek of my upturned bottom.  Very slowly, she lectured me on
good behavior, punctuating almost every point with another hard
swat on my bare ass, first on one cheek and then the other,
alternating back and forth it seemed, to be sure that each side
got its fair share.  Well, each side got more than its fair
share.  Very soon she brought me to tears.  This went on for a
while© much longer than I had expected, and much more of a
spanking than Tom had ever given me.  I was crying now, not
knowing what to say.  I begged her to stop, promising her as a little girl might that I
would be good, that I would never again be disrespectful, that I
would obey her in anything, just anything, that she might want me
to do.  She pushed me off onto the floor, ordered me to kneel
before her. Now understand how I felt.  I had truly been punished
and my bottom felt like it was on fire.  I felt humiliated to be
treated this way, and to have Tom see me treated this way.  I
felt totally ashamed of myself for getting myself into this
situation.  And I felt totally under her control.  But most of
all, I felt absolutely, orgasmically excited.  She was Queen, she
was in charge, and what would happen was completely up to her. 
What she wanted from me, she would get!!!  She took off her black bra, and showed me (and Tom) a pair of
delicious, shapely, large breasts.  She offered me a thick, dark
brown nipple to kiss.  I had no doubts whatever about what was
going to happen now, and I did just as she indicated she wanted
me to do© I leaned forward, and took that luscious morsel into my
mouth and sucked it lovingly.  Shortly, her hand found my
earlobe, and pulled me downward.  She shucked her black
underpants, spread her husky, shapely thighs, and showed me a
musky crotch, obviously excited that she wanted me to kiss as a
gesture of submission. And all the time that I had known her,
hated her, always I had known that this was what I really wanted.
I had dreamed about it a thousand times, the thought of me being
on my knees, kneeling before her widespread thighs, peering into
her open, expectant crotch, looking at the pink lips and her
erect clit, standing up and awaiting my kiss.  I knew the
significance of this position.  I was going to lean forward and
kiss her there, and suck her juices, and give her pleasure.  And
by so doing, she was going to take possession of me to use me any
way that she chose to use me in the future.  I was going to be
converted to her slave girl, and she would own me and operate me. 
I buried my face in it, her gorgeous, feminine cunt, tasting her          juices, enjoying the strange flavors and enjoying the sexy,
gorgeous feeling of humiliation of doing this with Tom watching. 
He loved it.   I was still on my knees between her thighs when she reached to
the table for the bottle of castor oil, and a tablespoon.  A
large spoonful was poured, and offered to me.  I pursed my lips,
knowing that no taste did I hate so much as this.  I refused. 
She smiled, reached over and took a nipple, and pinched HARD.  It
hurt, really hurt.  I screamed, not understanding her sudden
change in mood.  She said, "Now there you are being willful,
disobedient.  That is exactly what I am going to correct."  She pinched again, and I immediately opened my mouth wide, and
got for my troubles the tablespoonful of the castor oil.  I
gagged on it, but managed to swallow it down.  "Would you like another?" she asked.  When I gasped out NOOO, she pinched again, saying "Now that is
the WRONG answer, darling.  Let me ask again.  Would you like
another?"  I knew what would happen if I said no again.  I did not know what
to say.  She said it for me.  She said "May I have another© that
would be the way that you would say it if you had good manners".   And with that, she gave me another pinch, this time not so hard
but still hard enough. And of course, I did ask for another, and
was duly rewarded with a large spoonful, and then a moment later,
another and another.........  I was let alone for a while, while Velma and Tom disappeared
upstairs.  They were gone for a long time.  When they came back,
I could see that Tom had lost his erection.  Velma sat down again
before me, her thighs spread again, and beckoned me to kiss her. 
I did, of course, and found now that she was ever so much more
juicy than before, a totally different flavor, too.  Obviously,
out of my sight, they had fucked.  She had paid Tom, in a sense,
for turning me over to her for discipline, and she had thanked
him in the manner he liked best.  Velma reached into her purse,
and found a new toy© a large nipple clip that she attached to one
of my nipples, and snapped a leash onto it.  This was a new way
to lead somebody around.  She found my coat, threw it over my
shoulders, took the leash in one hand, the paper bag with my
clothes in the other, said goodbye to Tom, and led me out to her
car.  As she led me, her attitude seemed to be that of a great
lady who had just procured a new toy, and now meant to take it
home and play with it in depth.  I was the toy.  And I knew this
game that we were going to play.  She was going to make the rules
and I was going to abide by them© without any limits.  She would
be judge and jury and enforcer.  In the car, she reached into the coat, took my other breast in          her hand and very gently fondled it, rubbing the nipple.  She
turned her face to me, and offered me a very wet kiss© and as
well, a totally confusing mixture of sensations and feelings. 
Her hand ran between my thighs, into my pussy, feeling its
wetness.  She gently, very gently frigged my clit, bringing me
almost, but not quite to orgasm.  And she nibbled on my ear lobe,
and thrust a tongue into my ear, in the meanwhile whispering
"Darling girl, I am going to be your teacher, and I am going to
just loooovvvvee being your teacher.  You are just going to love
it.  Did you enjoy going down on me?"  Considering the remarkable talent she had shown for pinching my
nipples and making me do her thing, I knew I had better give the
right answer.  I said that I loved it.  "Good", she said, "since you like it so well, do it again, right
now."  So, for another ten or fifteen minutes we sat parked in front of
Tom's house, my face buried in her humid cunt, my tongue sucking
her clit©© and all the while, that castor oil was doing its
insidious work, taking me ever closer to that particular point of
no return.  Away we drove, finally, towards home.  I was certain that I would
never make it there, considering the wild sensations in my
bowels.  Somehow, I did manage to hold on long enough, my stomach
heaving and quenching as she led me up the stairs, firmly holding
the leash.  I begged for permission to go to the bathroom, and to
my surprise, it was granted without question.  Velma was for the
moment in her sweet phase.  I came back out, and was granted
permission to shower and to rest a bit.  Rest for what?  Well, as
it turned out, for quite a bit more.  An hour later, after relaxing and watching the evening news on
TV, she ordered me up.  My hands were fastened behind my back
again, and after some really loving©type gentle play with my
nipples, we began to discuss discipline.  She reviewed my conduct
over the past several years that we had known each other.  She
pointed to a number of specific instances where, she thought, I
could have, should have behaved differently.  Now, she told me,
she was going to teach me  number of things, but better manners
and better behavior and total obedience to recognized authority 
were certainly vital parts of the lessons. Obviously, she was now
the recognized authority that she referred to. To determine if I
was sufficiently obedient, she turned her back to me, bent
forward to give me a delightful view of her bare ass, her legs
spread so that I could see her brown rosette, almost winking at
me.  I knew what she wanted me to do, to give it a long, wet, sweet
thrusting kiss.  At that point, I could not.  She said that this
was disobedience, exactly what she had meant.  And announcing
this, she bent me over the end of the couch, my bottom raised. ÜjÜShe left me there for a moment, went to fetch something from the
closet, and showed it to me© a wicked looking leather strap,
about 18" long, 3" wide, and the end cut into three separate
tongues of leather.  She told me that it was a trainer, sometimes
called a tawse, but by any name a marvelous tool for one job© for
teaching.  She said that nature had provided every female a place
to be taught© her naked behind.  There, lessons could be given,
that might be painful for the moment, but they would be
remembered and no permanent harm would come.  And with that, she
raised the tawse, and SSSSSPPPPLLLAAATTT!!© a fiery streak, right
across the crowns of both cheeks.  I screamed out.  She said
nothing, and for a long time, the only sound in the room was the
voice from the TV.  Time dragged, and my behind was on fire.  I
had never really felt anything like it before.  And then©ªSSSSSPPPPPPPLLLAAATTTT!!  Again, she burned my bottom, as before. 
And now it hurt twice as much, if that is possible.  I was
sobbing, crying, begging her to let me go.  All that got me was a
third and then a fourth shot of the wicked tawse across my rump.
She asked me questions about things I had done the previous year,
about things I had said, about Tom.  She wanted to know if I had
been letting him fuck me. I said no.  That immediately earned me
another vicious swat with the tawse.  Again she asked, and this
time I confessed.  She wanted to know if I had him use me up the
ass.  I denied it© and got yet another stroke.  I confessed that
Tom had been using me anally.  She noted that down for future
reference, as if that was another transgression that she intended
to cure.  I was crying hysterically now, willing to tell her
anything, willing to confess to any sin, and getting in the
process a barn©burner of a spanking.  Suddenly it stopped. She said to me, "What would you like to do,now?" I knew there was
only one answer to that question, and I said it, "Please let me
show you, let me kiss your beautiful ass."  She smiled slightly,
bent forward again, and again, offered her brown rosette to my
tongue.  Now, finally, I did what I had always really wanted to
do.  I thrust my tongue against it, probed inward slightly,
tasted her strange flavor, and gave her thusly the kiss of total
obedience.   She left the room.  After what seemed a long time, she returned,
carrying a paper plate.  I knew what would happen next, and sure
enough, she found a spoon, and then asked me if I wanted my
dessert now.  I gulped, cried again, and said nooooo.  And for
that refusal, got another two strokes of the tawse.  She asked
again, and knowing that this would go on until I said yes, I did
so.  She made me request it, made me ask her to please feed me my
dessert.