From us001096@mindspring.com Mon Mar 17 16:48:43 1997 Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: Story: The Algernon Swinburne Society From: us001096@mindspring.com (Lucio) Date: Mon, 17 Mar 1997 21:48:43 GMT -------- As someone has lately been advertsing ersatz Lucio stories, I thought it was time to write another adventure of my alter ego. It got to be rather long, so I am posting it in two parts. This is (alas) fiction, erotic fiction, and should not be read by anyone under 18 or anyone who does not enjoy thinking about the edges of eros, exploring those shadowy corners where secret delights hides. It concerns spanking, anal intercourse, masturbation, but more than anything else, the delightful freedom which complete humiliation brings to the most willful and proud individuals. It is only the strongest who can truly enjoy humiliation. * LUCIO AT COLLEGE: THE ALGERNON SWINBURNE SOCIETY PART ONE When I left home for the first time to attend college, my sister, Carissima, afraid my attention to my studies might flag without her stern disciplinary presence, pulled some strings and saw to it that I was immediately accepted into the most exclusive club on campus, The Algernon Swinburne Society. The A.S.S. was a venerable institution which encouraged the pursuit of excellence by all its members through some tried but true persuasive techniques. It had formerly been exclusively male, but the year before my arrival had begun accepting female members. The transition had gone smoothly, chiefly because those attracted to membership in our society tended to be more intelligent and more naturally disciplined than the average student. It was necessary however, with this new mixture of the sexes, to make perfectly clear what were acceptable and unacceptable activities within the premises of the club. It must be remembered, our leaders told us, that the aim of the society was the molding of character, and not simply the indulgence in any sort of erotic activity. For that reason, it was necessary for any fellow of the Society, whether male or female, to adhere to the three "pillars" of the Society, represented by the initials, F.M.B. These stood for Flagellation, Masturbation and Buttfucking. For decades these were the three magic activities which had allowed fellows in the society to concentrate their will and energy on succeeding in the rough and tumble world of collegiate life. With the addition of women fellows, other activities had suggested themselves, but our leader had wisely decided to stick with these three traditional "pillars", if for no other reason than it allowed each member to be equally dealt with. So it was explicitly forbidden for a male and female member to engage in what we termed "standard version" fucking. Everything must be "high church" (our own argot for buttfucking). "High churching" was the only of these activities new to me. After some initial trepidation, I soon grew accustomed to being either the giver or receiver of this service. As for the other two, I was more than familiar with each Being basically romantic by nature, it was not long before I developed an awful crush on a fellow member, a young woman a year older than me named Evie. She was small, with short light brown hair and a face which exuded cleverness. Each afternoon she would confidently stride into the clubhouse, place herself against one of the punishment horses, skirt up, knickers down, and call out for someone to give her ten of the best. I was too shy to oblige her at the time, but made a point to be there every afternoon to watch. Her eyes seemed to sparkle with a clarity as each blow landed, and her expression would be placid, almost haughty, throughout her ordeal. Afterwards, I would repair to one of the masturbation lounges and jerk off, thinking of her clever pretty face and plump glowing bottom. One afternoon I had the lounge to myself. I was leisurely approaching a climax when she walked in. "Wait," she said, looking at my straining cock. "Not yet. That is, if you don't mind. I hate to masturbate alone. Would you mind awfully holding back a bit, so I might catch up." Having been raised as a gentleman, I stopped my stroking and said, "Wouldn't mind a bit. Have a seat." "Sitting is rather awkward right at the moment." I understood. A few moments before I had watched her being paddled by another young woman member with whom she was friendly, Angela. She perched herself on the edge of a chair, with her still glowing bottom hanging over the edge. Soon her skirt was up and her fingers plunged between her legs. "Can you see all right?" she asked. "Yes, thanks, lovely," I said, slowly resuming my stroking. "I know you like to watch. I've noticed you're there every day when I get my licking." "Yes, you take it awfully well." "As do you. I saw you get yours one day last week." "Well," I said, "I'm used to it." And I told her about my sister, Carissima and of the frequent spankings I had received from her. "That's funny," she said, "I have an older brother who likes to spank me. He started in on me when I was five years old." She mentioned a name which I recognized as one of the society's past presidents. "Of course, he didn't 'high church' me until I was nine," she added. At this point conversation ceased and we concentrated on the business at hand. She was quite energetic and somewhat noisy. At one point she produced a tiny leather flogger and began whipping her pussy, all the while vigorously pumping her hips up and down. The sweetest cries of excitement issued from her lovely mouth. The combination of these sights and sounds proved too much for me. No longer able to hold back, I stroked vigorously until my cock gushed forth hot spurts of come. I saw her eyes widen at the sight of this. She dropped the flogger and both her hands went diligently to work between her legs. Soon a long sweet sigh escaped her lips and I perceived she had joined me in that sweet moment of bliss. As we were cleaning ourselves with the fluffy towels always left in the lounge for that purpose, I complimented her on her exuberant style of masturbation. "I'm not always that noisy. One must think of roommates, and so forth. My roommate is not one of us." I was puzzled. "What does that matter?" "Well, I have a jolly wank each night before I go to sleep and then again in the morning before I get up." "In your dorm room?" "Yes, of course." "But Evie, you know it is against the rules for a member of the society to engage in masturbation anywhere except within the society's premises." "I know, Lucio, but at the end of a long day a girl doesn't much feel like traipsing all the way over here just for a simple wank." "Perhaps you don't 'feel' like doing it, but these are the rules, Evie. If you feel like masturbating before you go to sleep, the proper thing to do, would be to get dressed and come over here to do it. I know it doesn't sound as attractive as simply lazing in bed with your fingers pressed against your clit, but being a member of this society is not about taking the easy way out. The whole purpose of this society is the maintenance of discipline. You put me in a difficult position. If I don't report you I make myself quite as guilty as you. But if I do report you, you might very well be expelled, and that would pain me very much." "Expelled! Surely they wouldn't do that?" Her normally serene countenance was filled with anxiety. (And I must admit to experiencing some sadistic pleasure in producing this look of pain and terror on her face, although I had not done it intentionally.) "It is quite possible," I said sadly. For a moment she was silent, but I could see her brilliant mind was racing for a solution. At last she said, "I have an idea, Lucio, that could solve your problem." (How clever she was to make it "my" problem.) "I see now you are perfectly correct, and I regret very much putting you in this moral dilemma. You wish to do the right thing, to adhere to the spirit of the laws of this society. At the same time, you fear that if you inform on me, I shall be expelled, and in that case we could no longer engage in the lovely pastime which we have just completed. Furthermore, I perhaps flatter myself in assuming you would miss the daily spectacle of my bare bottom being soundly spanked, caned, paddled, etc.. You are correct in believing I am worthy of punishment. But you are also correct in believing that the likely punishment would make us both dreadfully unhappy. So my solution is this: you must punish me, Lucio. You must take this burden on yourself. It is up to you to mete out justice. I must be punished severely. And it must transcend the physical. You have seen how I stand up to the roughest caning. It must be more than that. You must humiliate me. Humiliate me completely." I was silent. The clever girl knew of course how attractive this would sound to me. To be singled out in this manner to be her chief tormentor, her grand inquisitor, was, apart from the sadistic pleasure it offered, tremendously gratifying to my ego. I agreed. We made plans to meet in the late afternoon the next day. This would be the time the greatest number of members would be present to witness whatever humiliation I could plan for her. As we left, I was somber -- she had placed a great burden on my shoulders: how could I come up with a sufficient punishment to humiliate this proud beauty? She, on the other hand, was now quite relaxed. The same sly look of sublime contentment had returned to her face. It would be my job to wipe this away. As I walked her back to her dorm, she chattered away cheerfully about her first introduction to the cane. It had occurred when she had been thirteen. Her brother had gone off to college, but usually returned home for the weekends. He would arrive late Friday night, often after she had gone to bed. Early the next morning he would appear in her bedroom. It was on one of those bright weekend mornings that she had first set eye on a rattan cane. He had borrowed it from the Swinburne Society. It looked such a fragile thing, that when he first applied it to her backside she could scarcely believe the exquisite pain it offered. The routine, she explained, became this: He would come into her room early in the morning and awaken her by roughly pulling down the covers. Without a word, she would respond by pulling her nightgown up to her waist and rolling over on one side in a semi-fetal position, with her bottom twisted slightly upwards at the edge of the bed. He would calmly pronounce the word, "Present." At the sound of those two syllables, she would immediately arch her back, thrusting with a jerk her bottom towards him. The searing smack of the cane would promptly follow. There would be a pause. He might run his hand over the red area which the cane had kissed. Then again he would calmly order, "Present," and the process would be repeated. She always got at least ten, sometimes more. When it was clear no more blows were coming, still curled up on her side, she would begin to finger herself. He watched her without comment. Was he stroking his cock? She never knew. She did not look at him. Her head was pressed to the mattress, her eyes closed. But it gave her pleasure to know she did this thing in front of him. He would allow her to climax, and then he would say simply, "Knees." She would obey by getting on her hands and knees facing away from him. Then he would buttfuck her. When he had first begun doing this to her, when she was nine, it would be over quickly. Now that he was a college man, however, he took his time. Grasping her tightly around the waist, he would screw her long and hard. Once he had come, he would pull out of her as quickly as he had entered, leaving the room without another word. She would often stay in that position for a long time after he had left her, on her knees, her head resting perhaps on the mattress. In the deep calm of the early morning, she liked the feel of his gooey semen seeping out of her anus, sliding down her naked thigh. She loved the cane. She loved it for what it taught her. It occurred to her that when he said, "Present," it was less of a command and more of a suggestion. How she adored those two syllables. It was her reaction to this simple word which brought on the luxurious smack of the cane. She was sure he would not strike if she did not respond with that quick fierce arching of her back, the jutting out of her bottom. Of course, she had never in her life failed to respond to this "suggestion", so her assumption that he would not act without this response was pure theory. It occurred to her that he was more of an accomplice than a tormentor. It was she who terrorized him -- or rather, her ass. "Even when a child, this ass of mine so frightened him that he had to spank it constantly simply to keep its perfect organic convexity from overwhelming him. And then once I began to go through puberty, and it ripened with my swelling hips, it proved so terrifying to him that he could only approach it with that fearsome weapon, the cane. What a seat of power a plump round bottom is!" She said this while standing in the doorway of her dorm building, looking over her shoulder at me, a sly smile on her face. The bottom, of which she was so proud, faced me. Tomorrow I would confront the tremendous challenge of this ass. Was I up to it? My eyes were riveted on its swelling presence beneath her skirt. It was a daunting prospect. (TO BE CONTINUED) (c) 1997 Lucio From us001096@mindspring.com Mon Mar 17 16:49:30 1997 Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: The Algernon Swinburne Society (Part 2) From: us001096@mindspring.com (Lucio) Date: Mon, 17 Mar 1997 21:49:30 GMT -------- As someone has lately been advertsing ersatz Lucio stories, I thought it was time to write another adventure of my alter ego. It got to be rather long, so I am posting it in two parts. This is (alas) fiction, erotic fiction, and should not be read by anyone under 18 or anyone who does not enjoy thinking about the edges of eros, exploring those shadowy corners where secret delights hides. It concerns spanking, anal intercourse, masturbation, but more than anything else, the delightful freedom which complete humiliation brings to the most willful and proud individuals. It is only the strongest who can truly enjoy humiliation. * LUCIO AT COLLEGE: THE ALGERNON SWINBURNE SOCIETY PART TWO When I arrived at the Algernon Swinburne Society the next afternoon, I was gratified to see that Evie had dressed herself in a very plain manner. She usually wore the most stylish and expensive clothing, but today she was dressed almost frumpishly in a long plain cotton skirt which came down below her knees, a white sleeveless blouse with peter pan collar, white ankle socks and clunky brown shoes. She was playing at being penitent. To begin with, I had her pull up her skirt and gather it in her hands in front of her. I was pleased to see she wore plain cotton panties of a sky blue color. "Should I pull my knickers down to my knees?" she asked. "Quiet, girl. No one is asking you for suggestions. Just do what you're told." "Yes, sir." I grabbed her tightly by her bare upper arm and led her from room to room in the clubhouse, so that everyone would see her in this condition. I instructed her that she was to make confessions as we perambulated through the spacious quarters of the club. Submissively gazing down at the floor, her skirt held up above her waist, she said to one person, "My brother buttfucked me when I was nine -- and I loved it." "So what?" came the reply. Then to another, "When I was twelve, I lay naked in the bathtub while my best girlfriend pissed all over my face. It was delicious." "Who cares?" And so I led her sternly around the various rooms of the club so that she could make these outrageous confessions (some of which were true, others not). They all were met with bemused indifference. She confessed to everything except for the actual sin for which she was being punished. And so she compounded her sinfulness with this devious behavior. I knew this and she knew that I knew this. That made it all the more enjoyable for the both of us. Even as her punishment began she had sunk even lower into a glorious unending depravity. What a girl! I had already fallen hopelessly in love with her. That made me want to hurt her all the more. I led her back to the primary "swishing" room. I had enlisted her friend, Angela in this endeavor. She had reserved a centrally placed punishment horse, and was waiting by it. She held in her hands something which resembled a bunch of flowers wrapped in paper. "Angela has something for you," I said. Angela smiled sweetly and, unwrapping the paper, revealed a tightly bound bunch of supple birch twigs. "I worked on it all morning," she said. Evie stared straight ahead. "What do you say, girl?" I spoke sharply. "Thank you, Angela, for the birch to whip my bottom." "Yeah, sure -- kiss my ass." Evie lowered her head, surprised by Angela's last remark. "Well?" I said. Evie looked at me with a puzzled expression. "Angela made a request of you, and you just stand there like an idiot peasant girl." "Oh," she said. "Yes, of course -- I see." She got down on her knees. Angela turned her back to her. Evie raised Angela's skirt, pulled down her panties and kissed the flesh of one buttock. "That's the most pathetic ass kiss I ever saw," I said. For a split second I saw a look of irritation pass across her face. But she quickly suppressed it, and dutifully said, "Yes sir, you're right, sir. I'll try to do better. Can I let go of my skirt, sir? I think I'll need both hands." I gave her permission to do so. She dropped her skirt and put both her hands up against the flesh of Angela's buttocks. Then slowly she parted them, and with a sublime look on her face placed the tenderest of kisses directly on the puckered ring of Angela's anus. A sigh could be heard escaping from Angela's lips. "Another," I ordered. This kiss was even longer and Angela's sigh deeper. "The third will be the charm," I said. Her lips were pressed tightly to Angela's anus and I suspect the flickering insertion of a tongue for Angela said suddenly, "Oooh!" "That will do." She looked up at me, licking her lips, her face still full of a subtle serene pride. Meanwhile Angela was striding away, her panties still lowered, shaking her head and muttering, "Jesus! Somebody buttfuck me, I'm horny as a sailor!" I pulled Evie to her feet. "Now you can take your panties off." I left her to get something from a cabinet placed against one wall. When I returned, her panties were down around her ankles, her skirt, as before, gathered up in her hands. "I said, take them off, not pull them down. You stupid girl -- can't follow a simple instruction." As she bent down to pull her panties off, I put what I had gotten from the cabinet onto the horse. Holding her panties in one hand, she rose and looked with undisguised displeasure at what she saw there. There, sitting on the horse, were thick leather cuffs for her wrists and ankles. I knew she would not like this and I knew why. It was not the thought of being bound. It was the implication it presented, the implication that she was a silly flighty girl who needed to be restrained in order to take her punishment. I bound her to the horse, each arm stretched along the length of it and bound to a ring at the end. Her ankles were spread and bound to rings at the bottom of opposing legs of the horse. I lifted up her skirt again, displaying her naked bottom. She said nothing as I did this, but I was pleased to see a repressed rage seep into her face. She did not mind traipsing around the club "confessing" to all sort of indignities with her skirt raised above her waist, she did not mind soul kissing a fellow member's ass, but the thought that her fellow members would stroll by and see her so inelegantly bound to the horse in a way in which she could not proudly demonstrate her willingness to be there was unbearable to her. Angela had placed the bunch of birch twigs on a stool. I pulled it in front of the horse, so that she could contemplate this instrument of punishment. Or more importantly, so that others would think she were required to do so. She was bound so tightly to the horse that she could not move her body at all, but she raised her head and looked at me with a face full of fury. I laughed. Passing behind her, I patted her bottom softly. This gave me an idea. I continued to pat her bottom playfully as though this were her real spanking. "Take that, you bad girl," I said, as I gave the softest of pats to her ass. I heard laughter from others in the room. "Let her have it, Lucio!" someone chuckled. "Bad girl, bad girl," I kept saying while giving her this pathetic non-spanking. Finally, when the laughter had died down, I said, "You know, Evie, I was so busy getting ready for this, that I had no chance to eat lunch today. If you don't mind, I think I'll go out for an early supper, and we can finish this later." She said nothing. "You don't mind do you, Evie?" "No, sir," she said, her voice mechanical and full of bitterness. "Ah good, I promise I won't be more than an hour or two. You'll be all right here?" "Yes, sir," she hissed. Before I left, I took a lipstick from her bag and wrote with it in bright red letters across the pale expanse of her bottom, "Molest me!" I stood back, looking with satisfaction at my handiwork, and then left for a leisurely meal with some fellow members. When I returned, I saw that the lipstick writing on her bottom was all smeared. "While you were gone, I was buttfucked a dozen times," she said. "A dozen? Really? A dozen exactly?" "I don't know, I lost count after awhile. I know Angela had at me with a strap-on at least three times." She spoke of this with no bitterness, only a certain amazement. Her time spent strapped to the horse had softened her. I could not help feeling a great fondness for her at that moment. She asked, with a fetching innocence, "Lucio, is it going to begin now? Are you really going to let me have it?" "Yes, my dear, dear, Evie. I am really going to give it to you. Have no fear." "But Lucio, one thing I don't think you thought of -- excuse my impertinence for saying so -- but I've been strapped here for over two hours and I really have to pee. I don't think, once you let in on me that I'll be able to hold it in." "Well," I said. "My, my -- that's an interesting thought." "That's all you can say?" "My dear Evie, it is really none of my business if you feel it necessary to piss all over yourself and the floor of this clubhouse. I am simply doing what you asked me to do. Is this not what you asked of me?" There was silence, and then in a quavering voice, low and completely lacking in resentment, she said, "Yes, Lucio, this is what I asked of you." Ah, I was overwhelmed with affection for this poor wounded animal! It is good that she did not look up at me and see the unmasked desire which filled my face at the sound of her voice on the edge of tears. I took a deep breath and collected myself. I picked up the birch which lay on the stool and then put it down. "No," I said, I don't think this will do." Against the wall which fronted the row of punishment horses were hung a collection of canes. I made a point of walking up and down this row, as if considering which, if any, I should choose. It was all show. I had made my decision earlier. Hanging in a dusty corner was the smallest and most slender of all the canes in the club. I took it down and held it in my hands. Discolored and slightly crooked, it was of uncertain age. Some thought it had hung in this dusty corner of the Swinburne Society since before the turn of the century. While it looked the most innocuous of all the canes hanging on the wall, I knew that a connoisseur like Evie would take one look at it and abandon all hope. I glanced at her and saw her frightened eyes following its every movement in my hands. If I lifted it, her eyes raised; if I lowered it, her eyes lowered. I believe if I had tossed it out the window, her eyes would have popped out of her head and followed it. I came back to her and stroked her hair. "Courage," I said, with genuine feeling. She saw me pass behind the horse, out of her field of vision and she knew there would be no more stay of execution. I put my left hand on her back and lightly touched the cane to her bottom, holding it there for a moment. There was time for one more terrible humiliating trick. I pulled the cane back and delivered a blow, not very hard, but just hard enough that she might think it were the real thing. I heard her gasp and then release her breath, relieved that she had taken this first blow well. And then I gave her a real one. With unbelievable wickedness, the slender rattan bit into her soft flesh. She cried out and at the same time let out a heavy stream of piss which clattered loudly on the hardwood floor. There was some laughter from the large gallery which had gathered to see this proud beauty's humiliation, but this ceased quickly when I delivered the second strike of the cane. She gave out a heart rending moan, resonant with shame and suffering, and began to weep loudly. All the while, she continued to piss herself. When the last drops had run down her leg, I crossed to the front of the horse, and with my hand, beneath her chin, raised her weeping head. She looked up at me, her lovely eyes flooded with tears. So enraptured was she by the moment that she could only sigh to me in French, "Oh Lucio, je t'aime absolutement et eternellement, mon doux, doux monstre." I replied, "Moi aussi, ma abjecte putain malodorante." "Malodorante," she repeated, "Oui, oui, c'est vrais." And her tears became mixed with a soft fluid laughter. Laughter which died in a howl of pain as the narrow cane again kissed her bottom. Each stroke I delivered as if it were the last, the coup de grace. But each false coup de grace was followed by another. I do not know how many I delivered. I stopped only when another club member seized the cane out of my hand. "She's bleeding too much," he said softly. "That's enough, Lucio." Someone came with a towel to wipe the blood off her ass, but she shouted, "No! It's mine!" I unstrapped her from the horse. She fell into my arms. I picked her up and carried her into another room, where she could at last be away from the prying mocking faces which had watched her humiliation. I put her down on a couch, carefully lying on her side. There was a gentleness in her face as she gazed at me, a sweet calm. She pulled me toward her and kissed me delicately on each cheek. "Oh, Lucio, what a sweet boy you are." "Monster," I said. "You called me a monster." "Yes, you are my monster, my very own sweet lovely monster. I adore you so desperately. Lucio, come close, I have to whisper something in your ear." I put my ear up against her lips and felt them move as she breathed out, "Lucio, I want you to pussyfuck me." I backed away. "But that is absolutely forbidden!" "Shh," she said. She looked at me and I saw that same old sly smile creep back across her tear streaked face. "I know," she said. How could I refuse this woman. After awhile she got up, and walked alone proudly through the club, limping slightly, the blood soaked through the back of her skirt. She left without a word. A few minutes later I slipped out and met her in the quadrangle. As she leaned back against a railing, I fucked her poor wounded body, right there, out in the open, on a bright moonlit night, where anyone could see us. No one did see us. At least not that night. But we continued this nocturnal sinful behavior, secure in the knowledge that we could punish each other for it during the day at the Swinburne. Eventually, of course, we were discovered, banging against a trash can in some dirty alleyway, her legs up around my waist. We were expelled from the Swinburne Society without appeal. This seemed the death knell of our love. There seemed no point in continuing, now that our fucking would have no consequence, now that we had no sinful secrets to hide and nourish together. We stopped seeing each other. I of course wrote to Carissima telling her the whole sad story. Strangely enough, she had no comment. I thought she would be dreadfully angry with me for being tossed out of the Swinburne Society. The winter was cold and lonely. I applied myself to my studies and led a monk's existence. I did not go home for Christmas vacation, staying in my room and working alone through those dreary days. But I was going home for Spring break. I was very interested in what Carissima would say about my affair with Evie. I could not believe that she would let the entire incident pass unnoticed. And then, a few weeks before Spring break, I saw Evie walking toward me across the quad. She held a letter in her hand. I knew the stationary. "I've received a letter from your sister," she said. "She has suggested that I come down during Spring break." "Really," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "And what will you do?" She smiled. "Really, Lucio, all I know of your sister, Carissima, I have learned from you. So you tell me -- what does one do when summoned by Carissima?" I laughed. "One obeys." (c) 1997 Lucio