____________________________
| |
/)| KRISTEN'S BOOKSHELF |(\
/ )| DIRECTORIES |( \
__( (|____________________________|) )__
((( \ \ > /_) ( \ < / / )))
(\\\ \ \_/ / \ \_/ / ///)
\ / \ /
\ _/ \_ /
/ / \ \
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o o
o The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories. o
o They have been submitted by people from all over the world. Also o
o from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no particular order o
o other than offering them to you in alphabetical directories. o
o o
o All works are copyrighted to the author and may not be used for o
o profit without obtaining the author's permission in advance. o
o o
o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult entertainment o
o and should not be read by minors. o
o o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Out of Mischief
by Hedgehog (address withheld)
***
A spoiled 10-year-old brat of a boy regrets causing trouble in an
hotel when he gets an early introduction to strict bondage and
humiliation from women who won't tolerate his tantrums. (FFb, ped,
nc, mast, bd)
***
Bartholemew lay on his stomach, watching daytime TV in a plush,
second-floor hotel room. The volume was way louder than necessary,
but the 10-year-old didn't care. Bored, he popped another
chocolate in his mouth with one hand while he idly flipped
channels with the remote in the other. He wondered where Mrs
Baxter had got to. He also wondered about that big house of hers
and what exactly went on there.
The day before, his wealthy, widowed mother had introduced him to
the severe looking, quietly-spoken woman, informing him that she
was for the time-being his guardian and that he was to accompany
her to her "special chateau". In view of the fact that, only a
week before, yet another school had expelled Bartholemew because
of his "destructive behaviour", Mrs Baxter had agreed to offer him
private education at her "exclusive residential centre for the
education and self improvement of boys".
"It's for the best, darling," his mother had assured him, a light
smile on her face. "You'll like it there, you'll see. It's going
to be something...er...very different...for you."
Bartholemew had debated with himself as to whether to throw a
tantrum or go along with things, but eventually decided on the
latter. He fancied the idea of a break in France, seeing it as new
territory for the exploiting. Besides, he'd figured, if he
couldn't get things all his own way, he could always demand to
come home again. And if that didn't work, well, the old
"destructive behaviour" routine never failed.
Unfortunately, however, Mrs Baxter had some "unexpected business
meetings" to attend to, delaying their departure until tomorrow.
So, to his annoyance, Bartholemew was stewing in this high-class
hotel suite near London's Heathrow. Still intent on the TV, he was
further irritated by someone knocking on the hotel room door.
"Go away!" he ordered, but the door opened anyway and in walked
Matilda, a buxom middle-aged chambermaid of West African origin,
clad in a smart blue uniform with white trim. She had come to
clean the bathroom as Bartholemew had earlier left a tap running
and the sink overflow had caused the woman in the suite below to
report a flood.
A bucket and mop in her hands, Matilda frowned as her ears were
assaulted by the blaring from the TV. She gave a disdainful look
at the jean-clad, and somewhat chubby bottom of the youngster, who
kept his gaze on the TV screen. "Sorry, but I have to do my job."
"Then make it quick and get the f*** out," snapped Bartholemew. "I
don't like to be disturbed."
With a shake of her head and a swish of nylon from beneath her
uniform skirt, Matilda went into the bathroom to clean up the
spillage. She emerged after about 15 minutes to see the spoiled
little devil still loafing on his stomach and popping yet another
chocolate into his mouth. Given he was already slightly overweight
for his age, she considered warning him about too many sweets,
then decided not to bother and left without comment.
Some 50 minutes later, Mrs Baxter strode in, her dark hair stacked
in a neat bun behind her head, as usual, and a stern look on her
face. "Bartholemew, turn down that television set immediately!"
demanded the attractive 40-year-old. She raised her voice to be
heard above the noise.
The boy ignored her, staying focused on some pop video, so she
simply snatched the remote from his hand and pressed the "off"
button with her thumb.
"Hey, I was watching that!" snapped Bartholemew.
"Be more respectful when addressing me," the woman responded,
fixing the boy at her feet with a severe look. I've heard reports
that you've been causing trouble in the hotel."
Smirking, Bartholemew turned his head to look up at her, seeing up
her skirt almost as far as her stocking-tops as he did so. "Such
as?"
Mrs Baxter noticed the lad's interest in her legs but ignored it.
"Well, for one thing, Miss Dawson, the hotel manager told me
earlier that she came to ask you to turn down the volume of the
television because she'd had complaints, and you told her to, in
her words, 'p*** off'."
"Yeah, yeah, now give me back the remote, OK?"
"She also informed me you called her 'a stupid cow', is that
right?"
"Well, she is a stupid cow. I want that remote back now, by the
way. And I mean now, or I'll be having one of my tantrums. You
won't enjoy that, believe me."
"Furthermore," Mrs Baxter continued, not only did you almost flood
the hotel after I'd left, but you used obscene language at the
chambermaid who came to clean up. She reported it to Miss Dawson."
Bartholemew gave a sneaky grin up at the angry looking woman
standing over him. "I only asked her to be quick with her mopping
– in my own little way, that is."
"And as if all that wasn't bad enough, certain women guests have
also complained to Miss Dawson that you were trying to peer up
their skirts this morning as they climbed the stairs from the
lobby. One woman in particular was extremely cross."
"Lies, all lies," said Bartholemew casually.
Mrs Baxter placed her hands on her hips. It was obvious to her
that, from the youngster's interest in her own stockinged legs,
the affronted women had not been lying. "Well, there'll be no more
of your nonsense today, my boy. I intend to take measures to see
that you spend the rest of it well out of mischief."
"Oh, yeah?" queried Bartholemew. "So, you'll be handing me back
the remote then, right?"
At that moment the door opened and the hotel manager strode in.
Smartly dressed in a black skirt with white blouse, she looked
about 30. Bartholemew noticed a small pager that was clipped to
her belt. Shiny brown hair framed gold-rimmed spectacles and fell
to rest on her shoulders. She had in her grasp a stout carrier
bag.
"Ah, Miss Dawson, just in time," said Mrs Baxter. "Do come and
join us."
The manager set the bag down near Bartholemew's feet. "Gladly, and
I must say I thank you for offering this solution to the problem
and am only too happy to assist with it, Mrs Baxter. You do
understand that I cannot have my hotel subjected to such constant
disruption?"
"Of course," replied the older woman with a nod. "Did you manage
to find what I asked for?"
"Yes, adhesive bandage I got, thin cord you asked for, and I found
good rope in a hardware store. I've cut that into manageable
lengths. I got several bundles to be on the safe side." The woman
removed a hank of white rope from the bag and held it for the
other's approval.
"Excellent," said Mrs Baxter. Now, if you'll be so good as to hold
him, I will do the stripping and tying."
The puzzlement Bartholemew had experienced on seeing the rope
turned into panic at those words and the serious looks on both
womens' faces. He was quickly on his feet. "Well, I'm going for a
walk. I'll be back for dinner."
But Mrs Baxter's firm hands pulled him back.
"Oh, you're not going anywhere, my lad. I told you you'd be
spending the rest of today out of mischief – and I meant it!"
The boy tried to break free from her grasp, but to no avail. He
was soon dragged to the floor, struggling and cussing at the women
kneeling over him."
"Let me go, you f***ing bitches!" he shouted. "You won't get away
with this. My mother will hear of it! You pair of fu---"
Lying across his chest to pin his arms, Miss Dawson clamped a palm
over Bartholemew's foul mouth, silencing his yap in mid flow.
Mrs Baxter yanked off his boots, then busied her fingers with
unbuckling his belt. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but your mother
knows how I deal with unruly little morons like you and she's
given me full control over you until your education at the chateau
is complete." She tugged down his fly zipper. "It's for your own
good, believe me." With that, she had his jeans down to his knees
with one pull and had removed them completely with a second.
Outraged, the lad fought and wriggled in his T-shirt, socks and
white underpants. But he eventually discovered that when two
determined women set their minds on doing something, they see that
it's done properly...
***
With clean bed-sheets draped over one arm, Matilda tentatively
knocked on the hotel room door. Hearing no TV noise blaring from
behind it, she gave a soft smile and let herself in. As she closed
the door behind her, what she saw turned the smile on her dark
brown face into a broad, gleaming grin.
"Well, hello, poppet," she said to Bartholemew. "How you doing?"
A red-faced Bartholemew glared back at her from where Mrs Baxter
and Miss Dawson had left him almost an hour ago. He was in a heavy
wooden chair in the middle of the room, facing the door. And apart
from a broad white gag and numerous windings of white rope about
his chest, lower belly, upper arms, thighs, calves and ankles, he
was also quite nude. His hands were obviously tied behind his back
and his knees were tied so wide apart that the crack of his
rounded bottom jutted forward to just overhang the chair seat.
Both of his feet were tied clear of the carpet either side of the
chair legs, so from between his well spread thighs, his hairless
little penis jutted forlornly in the chambermaid's direction. As
an interesting extra to his restraint, she noticed thin cord
stretched in a taut inverted V from his boyish dick and balls,
running between his spread thighs and down to each big toe,
keeping them pulled up. She figured that was added to stop him
fidgeting.
Matilda noted with satisfaction that white adhesive bandage was
keeping the foul-mouthed little brat so very effectively gagged.
Wrapped tightly around his head and between his gaping jaws, it
kept a mouth-filling wad jammed firmly in. This packing was
slightly bigger than needed, which meant small portions spilled
over the bandage top and bottom. She moved closer and leaned in
for a better look, observing white nylon edged with delicate pink
trim. It was female underwear all right; doubtless Mrs Baxter's,
opined Matilda, as her attractive boss had confided she rarely
wore panties, preferring just panty-hose.
The contented chambermaid straightened up again. "Now, what an
improvement this is. Miss Dawson said I'd find a well behaved
little boy this time – and how right she was!"
Despite his embarrassment at being so thoroughly exposed to the
African chambermaid, Bartholemew tried to swear and struggle, Mrs
Baxter's dirty panties tasting worse by the minute. A low
"hhhhhhmmfffffff..." escaped his gag, but his squirming ceased
immediately as the cord tied around his penis and balls turned
discomfort into pain in response to the pulling from his big toes.
Matilda chuckled. "This is what happens to little boys who are
rude to women. They get themselves all trussed up, with ladies'
knickers keeping their big mouths quiet, and having their sweet
little winkies put on display." Unable to resist it, seeing that
it was offered so saucily, the woman gave Bartholemew's tiny prick
a squeeze firm enough to be somewhat painful.
"Mmmmmmmffffffffffffffffffffffffff!"
"Don't you get up on my account, poppet," she mocked. "I'll just
change the bed-sheets and leave you in peace. I remember you
saying you didn't like to be disturbed."
After busying herself in both bedrooms, Matilda returned to stand
in front of the helpless Bartholemew. She smiled again. "It does
please me so to know that when I've gone, you'll be sitting here
so quiet and out of mischief." She noticed the box of chocolates
on a coffee table near the chair and took one out. "And I'd say
you've scoffed your last chocky today too, wouldn't you?"
"Mmmmmffffffffff..." protested Bartholemew, angered but having
been trained by the genital tether not to struggle.
"I shouldn't really, with watching my figure and all, but one
won't do a girl any harm, right?" The chambermaid popped the
chocolate between her lips and chewed gleefully before swallowing
the treat. "And I've heard about you, standing at the bottom of
the stairs trying to peek up ladies' skirts." She leaned close to
the naked boy who was fuming in his bondage and tapped his nose
with a finger. "My, what a naughty one you are!"
What Matilda did next surprised Bartholemew. Staying close to him,
she yanked her uniform skirt up to her waist, exposing ample
thighs and hips encased in dark tights. Beneath those the captive
could make out small white panties forming a V from her rounded
belly to her crotch. "Is this the kind of thing you were trying to
see?" she asked with a grin.
The boy's eyes widened at the sight. Then the woman pulled down
the tights as far as her upper thighs and turned around. The deep
crevice of her large behind had swallowed her white panties so
that her big brown bare bottom cheeks were dominating his gaze.
"Or how about this?" She bent over and Bartholemew saw the thin
strip of white material buried tight and deep in the woman's dark
crack. Small sprigs of black curly hair protruded from either side
of the material where it widened over her prominent pubic mound.
After some moments, she straightened again and lowered her skirt.
"There, happy now?" she asked, but Bartholemew simply glared at
her over his gag.
"Mmmm..." She peered down at the boy's penis, still barely 3 cm or
so in length. "Well, your little winkie doesn't seem very
impressed, I must say. How rude of it!"
The furious youngster hardened his glare and managed a "Mmmmfffff-
mmmmfffffff-mmfff!" from behind his gag.
"I've got an idea," said Matilda, squatting between his parted
thighs. "Perhaps it just needs a bit of extra encouragement, eh?"
She then grasped the dick between index finger and thumb and
proceeded to rub the tip of her other index finger lightly over
its end, teasing and tickling.
"Mmmffffff-mmmffffffffffff-mmmmmmmmmffffffffffff!" protested
Bartholemew, glaring angrily down. He tried to struggle but was
again quickly stilled by the wicked noose around his penis and
balls. After a few minutes, he felt the tickling sensation on the
end of his willy turning into something pleasurable. Despite his
initial outrage at the liberties taken by the gloating
chambermaid, he relaxed into what her experienced fingers were
doing and felt his enjoyment increasing.
Matilda gave a nod and a knowing smile as she felt the boy's prick
start to swell between her finger and thumb. Keeping up the
tickling on its end, she added a rhythmic massage to the little
shaft and very soon had it stiffened to its full 8 cm. "There we
go," she said. "I knew it wanted to play really. And what a little
delight it is. Why, I could play with it for hours."
Despite his predicament, Bartholemew's extreme arousal at this
point made him pleased to hear that the woman intended to play
with his dick for hours. He could feel himself building up to
something wonderful, something he'd heard about but hadn't yet
tried. He was beginning to realize what he'd been missing. His
breathing grew deeper and more urgent, his tummy muscles tightened
and he tried to close his thighs despite the ropes keeping them
wide apart.
Suddenly, the chambermaid released her grip and looked at her
watch. "Darn, is that the time?" she said, standing up. "Sorry,
poppet, but I really must be getting along. I've got three more
beds to see to this afternoon."
The boy couldn't believe she intended to leave him just like that.
"Mmmmmffffff-mmm-mmmmm-mmmmmffffffffff!" he beseeched, wide-eyed
and nodding furiously down at his stiff and twitching little cock.
"No, sorry, but I really have to go," affirmed the smiling
Matilda. "You'll just have to play with your dicky when I'm gone.
Just give it a few more strokes, that should do it for you."
She walked to the door, then stopped and turned to look back at
the angry nude in his chair, his penis still upright and hopeful.
"Oh, I forgot, you can't play with it, can you? Goodness me, how
frustrating for you, tied up and gagged so tightly and with your
hot little winkie just begging for attention. The woman walked
back to Bartholemew, who stared pleadingly up at her.
"Shall I?" she asked, again gripping his little erection between
finger and thumb.
"Mmmmmfffffffff-mmmmmffffffffffffff!" Bartholemew nodded
frantically.
But Matilda instead released her grip and again made for the door.
"I really do wish I had time, sweety," she said from the doorway.
"And come to think of it, it's a good thing you won't be able to
play with it when I'm gone. Only naughty little boys do things
like that, and I can see you're going to be good little boy for
the rest of the day, right?"
"Mmm-mmmm-mmmmmffffffffffffffffff!" raged Bartholemew.
"You just sit quietly and wait for your Mrs Baxter to get back.
You never know, if she sees you looking so pleased to see her she
might even squirt your plaything for you." She opened the door and
smiled back at the red-faced nude. "But I doubt it very much
somehow." With that, Matilda walked out, closing the door firmly
behind her. In the corridor, she took a "Do Not Disturb" sign from
her uniform pocket and hung it from the door handle. Revenge was
sweet indeed.
***
Grimacing from the foul taste of Mrs Baxter's panties still jammed
firmly in his mouth, Bartholemew gave yet another look at the
clock on the coffee table beside his chair. It read 5.32. His
little cock, left so frustratingly stiff by the wicked
chambermaid, had wilted back into little more than a nub. He'd
been tied and gagged for almost 3 hours and not a single rope had
budged from his careful but persistent squirming. It was obvious
to him that Mrs Baxter had gained quite an expertise in knots from
somewhere. He wondered again when she was ever going to return
from the "next business meeting" which had prompted her departure
not long after his restraint had been taken care of. It occurred
to him that he was going to need the bathroom before much longer.
Already he could feel the build-up starting in his bladder. Then
with a nasty glint in his eye, Bartholemew decided that that
wasn't so bad after all. A nice big pee puddle on the hotel's
expensive carpet would be at least some payback to the manager for
her considerable part in his humiliation. And it would hardly be
his fault, right?
Then his plottings were interrupted by Miss Dawson herself
entering the room. She was with one of the women Bartholemew
remembered from his staircase loitering, elegantly dressed in
blouse, jacket and skirt (which he'd failed to see far enough up,
in his opinion), high heels and looking about mid-30s. She was the
one most outraged of all by his lecherous peering. This other
female smiled over at the embarrassed lad in the chair before her,
lowering her gaze to the harmless winkle that was offered so
blatantly for her appraisal.
"There he is, all taken care of as promised, Miss Carling," said a
smiling Miss Dawson, who folded her arms in a satisfied way.
"There will be no further problems with this one today." She
strode to the helpless boy, Miss Carling at her side.
This other woman smiled a bright smile. "Well, you did promise he
was out of mischief for the time being – and now I see what you
meant. What a delightful surprise!"
"I'm so glad it pleases you," said Miss Dawson. "You are always a
valued guest here and I resent very deeply anything that causes
you discomfort."
"Bound, gagged and bare-bottomed!" declared Miss Carling. "I had
no idea he would be dealt with so strictly. It certainly has
cheered me up to see the little horror like this. And how expertly
tied those ropes are on him."
"He'll be kept this way until at least early this evening,"
informed the manager. "And his guardian has promised there will be
no further trouble from him. She did the tying. She said it was
best he be left in the nude as punishment for his arrogance and
insolence. The gag is for his loud mouth and foul language --
plus, of course, it gives us all some peace."
"I must say, that woman certainly knows how to deal with a brat,"
said Miss Carling.
Bartholemew seethed behind his gag. "Mmmmffffffff-mmffffff-
mmffffff-mmmfffff!" he complained, trying to tell Miss Dawson that
her chambermaid had been playing with his penis, and that he
wanted her reported and fired.
Neither female looked at all interested in anything he had to say,
but as Miss Dawson moved behind Bartholemew to satisfy herself
that no knots had worked loose, her pager let out a beeping.
"Sorry, I'm wanted urgently" she said. "Just leave him as he is
and let yourself out, OK?"
The other woman nodded. "No problem."
Bartholemew watched with apprehension as the manager left. He cast
a worried look up at Miss Carling, who frowned down at him from in
front of his chair.
"So, you like to stare up womens' skirts do you, little boy?" she
asked. Then she knelt between his spread thighs, a wicked gleam in
her eye. "Well, maybe I can show you it's not such a good idea."
Bartholemew stared back in silence, fearing the worst.
She grasped his willy as Matilda had done, between finger and
thumb. "You know, this little jiminy cricket of yours is going to
get you into lots and lots of trouble as you get older." The woman
lowered her face close to the tiny porker. "Mmm... I wonder if
there's any fun to be had with it yet." With that, she extended
her tongue to deliver rapid, rhythmic flicks to its sensitive tip.
Forced to remain still by the cruel double leash from his toes to
his undeveloped crown jewels, Bartholemew gave a "Mmmmffffffff! of
protest, but the licking just kept up its pace.
Unaware of its earlier teasing, Miss Carling was pleased to feel
the stiff little cock twitching boldly in less than a minute. She
administered a succession of warm, wet sucks to get it really good
and solid, for all its inadequacy. "My, you are a randy little
beast," she chided, pulling away her mouth but replacing its
sucking with a steady wanking movement from her fingers. "No
wonder you wound up like this for being such a naughty boy."
Her captive hoped that her fingers would remain busy a while
longer. He was fighting the need to writhe in the pleasure he was
experiencing but feeling that sense of urgency again building in
his immature balls. As under the chambermaid's ministrations, his
breathing intensified.
Without warning, the woman stopped her playing and stood to walk
behind his chair. In one easy move she tipped it back to leave him
staring bewildered up at the ceiling.
"OK," she snapped, "since you enjoy it so much, take a last good
look."
Puzzled for a second, Bartholemew suddenly found himself staring
from between Miss Carling's stilettos, up her elegant skirt, past
her dark brown stocking tops and on to the creamy twin bulges of
her impressive arse. She parted her feet some more, allowing him a
view of her black thong covering her pussy mound – around which he
saw no signs of hair -- before disappearing in her deep rear
crevice. The sight brought several involuntary twitches from his
stiff little dick, attracting Miss Dawson's attention. She bent
over to play with it some more, causing her bare arse cheeks to
jut in Bartholemew's view. At this point too, he observed wisps of
dark hair peeking from beneath her thong at the place where the
crack strap joined the pussy covering.
"Mmmm-mmm-mmm-mmm-mmm! he intoned to the steady jerking of the
woman's fingers, feeling his release -- whatever that might be --
approaching fast.
But suddenly the fascinating view was gone, and so was the
feminine attention being paid to his excited willy. Miss Carling
yanked his chair upright to have him facing the door as before.
She leaned over him to hiss: "This is what you get for sneaky
peeks up womens' skirts, you little monster. You get bound, gagged
and left with a rigid little pecker you can't do a damned thing
about."
"Mmmffffff... Mmmmmmmmffffffffff..." pleaded Bartholemew, giving
her his best doe-eyed look in an attempt to gain sympathy.
Sensing it was now safe to do so as his orgasm had receeded
somewhat, Miss Carling sensuously stroked the tip of his twitching
dick with her finger-tip. "Oh, it can't be all that bad," she
soothed. "I mean, they can't keep you tied up and gagged for ever.
Sooner or later they'll have to let you get your hands on little
willy here. Just think of the fun you'll be having then!"
She delivered a stinging flick with a well manicured fingernail to
his rampant little appendage and stood to leave. "But for my part,
I hope it's a very long time," she said. "Meanwhile, you just sit
and enjoy the sweet memories I left you." She blew a kiss from the
doorway in the boy's direction. "Ciao, baby."
Bartholemew watched the door close in despair, wishing desperately
that he could get his hands free so that he could play with his
tormented penis for even a minute.
Within 10 minutes his hopes of freedom were raised as he watched
the door handle being lowered. "At last," he thought, "that old
bag Mrs Baxter's dragged herself back." But instead of his stern-
faced guardian, the smiling Matilda walked over to where he sat
with his legs spread wide.
"My, you certainly know how to make a girl feel welcome, poppet."
she joked, aiming a look at his still erect little cock. "But I
shouldn't get too excited if I was you. I've just heard your Mrs
Baxter won't be back for a while and Miss Dawson is sending the
hotel nurse up to... er... let's just say, see to you."
A look of unease crossed the boy's gagged face.
"Just thought I'd drop by to let you know," added the chambermaid.
"But she's been told to leave you exactly as you are, and I'd best
not to be around when she gets here, so you have a nice night,
OK?" She bent to kiss him on the cheek. "Bye, cheeky. Be good!"
Watching Matilda walk out, Bartholemew wondered just what she had
meant by the nurse coming in to 'see to' him. With his erection
now subsiding, he became aware once more of the building need to
take a pee. If he could manage it before the hag of a nurse got
there, he decided, he could have a nice puddle waiting for her to
step in. In fact, he now realized, there was something even more
unpleasant he might manage by then, given all the chocolates he'd
gorged earlier.
Unfortunately for the mischievous boy's plans, the nurse strode
purposefully into the room just a few minutes after Matilda's
departure, with him still not quite ready to pee. "Never mind," he
thought, "I can piss when she's gone as a nice present for Mrs
Baxter when she eventually gets back."
In her crisp white uniform and cap and carrying a medical bag in
one hand, the nurse wasn't the 'hag' of Bartholemew's imaginings.
Rather, she was a woman of around mid-30s and quite attractive
with fair hair tied in a pony tail. The helpless youngster refused
to show interest in her round-hipped figure and tits that jutted
so impressively against her tight uniform.
"You've been a naughty boy, I hear," she said sternly.
He tried to tell her to f**** off, but only muffled grunts came
from his gag.
"Well, I'm Nurse Collins and I'm going to tend to a few things for
you because Mrs Baxter will be unavoidably detained." She placed
down her bag near a front chair leg. "You're going to be staying
here for a little while yet."
Bartholemew shook his head in disbelief and then was heartened to
realize that the nurse was busy untying knots behind his chair. He
wondered if his bonds might be loosened enough to allow him a
break for freedom. After several minutes of her tugging and
unwinding, the relived lad was able to stand on unsteady feet,
prominent lines of rope marks over certain parts of his naked
flesh. He felt most relief at having that sadistic noose removed
from his tortured dick and plums.
To his disappointment, however, the woman stopped short of untying
his wrists and removing his gag. Instead, she sat on the chair and
patted the crisp white skirt covering her lap. "Over you get," she
ordered.
Bartholemew refused to move, staring in outrage at the suggestion
he should sprawl himself over the lap of a strange female so she
could do heaven-only-knows-what to his helpless body. But he found
himself lurching unexpectedly forward in response to a jerk from
her hand, the fingers of which had wrapped most firmly around his
miniature penis and balls.
"Come along, little chap," she demanded. "I don't have all day for
you." She smiled down with contentment at his chubby bottom once
he was sprawled over her lap, observing the neat knots that held
his wrist ropes so firmly in place. Giving the bottom a pat, she
reached down to her medical bag and prized it open with one hand.
She pulled from it a pair of latex gloves and tugged them on.
Next, she took out a large plastic syringe of the type used to
administer one-litre enemas and removed a protective cap from its
imposing nozzle. The syringe was quite full.
Strain for a view as he might, Bartholemew could only wonder what
was going on above him. Then he gave a jolt of alarm as a
lubricated finger buried itself without warning in his tight anus.
"Mmmmmmmmm-mmmmmmmmffffffffffff!"
Nurse Collins administered a stinging slap to a plump arse cheek.
"There's plenty more where that came from if you don't be quiet
and keep still. I need to make sure you won't need to go to the
toilet for a while."
Embarrassed and outraged beyond belief, the hapless boy knew from
the sting to his behind that he had no choice but to obey.
Something cold and hard was pushing at his bum-hole, which soon
gave way to the greased intruder.
In a well practised manner, the smiling nurse steadied the syringe
in one hand while smoothly depressing its plunger with the other.
In less than a minute the entire enema was deposited up the bottom
of the unlucky youngster, who was already feeling the most
uncomfortable sensations in his bowels.
The woman hauled him to his feet. "There was glycerine in that, so
you'd better get moving. Come along!" She pushed the bound captive
ahead of her firmly into the bathroom and steered him to the
toilet, where he sat with a look of extreme unease over his gag.
Barely had he settled when he found himself unable to resist the
enema which was taking sudden effect. He heard a gushing noise,
liquid under pressure, jetting into the bowl beneath him in
between desperate-sounding farts. Embarrassment and outrage mixed
with feelings of intense relief.
Somewhat numbed by the ordeal, he felt himself again hauled to his
feet by the impatient Nurse Collins, who routinely wiped his
behind with a disposable sponge before pushing him back into the
main room. To his dismay, she steered him back to his chair and
pushed him firmly onto it. Taking up ropes from the floor, she
worked quickly and with some considerable expertise to truss the
naked boy against the woodwork in just the position the other
women had placed him in. Her restraints felt just as secure to
Bartholemew and, if anything, some of her bindings even tighter
than originally.
After pulling one more knot secure, the nurse stood back slightly
to admire her handiwork. The nude before her looked well enough
bound, with his legs spayed wide and his bottom again pushed
forward to offer his harmless little dick to any woman who deigned
to gaze on it. Thus satisfied, she bent to snatch up lengths of
thin cord from the carpet near her feet, bringing a muffled groan
from the boy.
"Leave as you find, I always say," she remarked, and set to with
deft fingers retying the noose around his helpless little cock and
balls. Before long she stood back for another check of her work,
noting with satisfaction that the cord she'd replaced ran tight as
it should to the youngster's upraised big toes beside the chair-
legs. "There, if that doesn't keep you out of mischief, nothing
will."
She observed that the adhesive bandage around his lower face was
by now soaked by saliva and in danger of losing its grip and so
began unwinding it. "I'd better change this gag before I go," she
said. "Miss Dawson won't want you disturbing the other guests with
your shouting."
On finally pulling Mrs Baxter's sodden underwear from his gaping
mouth, the nurse raised her eyebrows at realizing what they were.
"Now, that's a tasty mouthful," she observed, holding them aloft
for inspection. "No wonder you've been so quiet."
Bartholemew gulped heartily and worked his jaws to remove their
dreadful ache. "Please, nurse," he begged, "please don't gag me
again. "I'll be quiet, I promise. I won't make any noise when
you've gone."
"Oh, you'll be quite all right, little boy," she responded,
crouching with a fresh roll of adhesive bandage in her hand. She
wasn't looking at him, but down into her medical bag. She gave a
"Tut!", then added, "Damn, I don't have any cotton wadding in
here."
The naked captive felt relieved at her words. But his relief
turned to discomfort as she stood and raised the skirt of her
uniform to reveal that it had covered dark stockings with pink
suspenders. She reached under the skirt to pull down and slip off
a pair of pink panties.
"I've had these on since last night, I'm afraid," she said,
balling the underwear up. "But they're cotton, so they will absorb
your spittle better than those nylon ones and stop you drooling
all over yourself."
"Please, Nurse," begged the disgusted boy. "I'll be really quite,
I promise. I'll just sit here and I won't--"
Nurse Collins pushed his forehead back with one hand and silenced
him with the other, pushing the substantial wad of cotton into his
mouth to force his jaws ever wider. The panties were every bit as
large as those that had previously encased the ample bottom cheeks
of Mrs Baxter. Several tight windings of adhesive bandage
completed his silencing.
Seething as he watched the nurse mooch once more in her medical
bag, the thoroughly gagged Bartholemew felt nearly ready to take
that pee. Despite his anger, he consoled himself with the
knowledge that, helpless though he was, he could still damage an
expensive carpet.
Nurse Collins stood up while pulling a slender something from a
freshly-opened little sterile package of clear cellophane.
"There's just one last thing you need before I go," she said.
"Something to make sure a naughty little boy doesn't make any mess
once he's left out of mischief."
The boy watched with a mix of confusion and unease as she applied
a dab of lubricant to the tip of a wicked looking tube, flexible
and barely three millimeters in diameter. Watching her bend to
grasp his penis firmly in her delicate fingers, to pull it
vertical and then align the tube end precisely with his barely
visible pee-hole, his unease turned to terror.
"Mmmmmfffff! Mmmmmmmmffffff! Mmmfff! Mmmmmmmmffffffffffff!" he
protested. He started to struggle and again was forced to be still
from the agony in his plums caused by the pulling of his big toes
on the thin cord.
He tried to scream from behind his new gag, but it was no use. In
moments, the well-trained nurse had him catheterized. After
wrapping a little piece of white tape around the head of his tiny
willy to hold the tube in place, she attached a wider tube to the
first leading to the neck of a transparent plastic urine bag. This
she hung by a hook that was nestling in the crack of the boy's
substantial bottom at the front of the chair and between his
splayed thighs. With everything in place, she had only to open a
small valve on the wider tubing to allow the flow of urine. This
she did and was satisfied to note that pee flowed straight away
into the receiving bag to empty the lad's bladder – whether he
wanted it or not.
After packing away her medical items, Nurse Collins gave the
helpless naked boy a brief pat on the head. "There, that's you all
done with. You've had your enema and you can pee to your little
tinkle's content for the rest of the evening without making a
mess. And in case you haven't noticed, your new diet started
today."
Bartholemew remained quiet, despite the panties in his mouth
having become noticably more acrid since their insertion. He knew
now that protest was pointless.
"Goodnight," said the nurse from the doorway. "Oh, and you should
try to be a good boy in future -- now you've seen what can happen
to naughty ones, that is." With a wicked grin, she left
Bartholemew ruing his predicament.
***
Another two hours had passed when a smiling Miss Dawson strode in
to check that the boy was still where he should be. She turned on
the room light as darkness was by then setting in, and chuckled at
the sight of the naked youngster exactly as she'd last seen him,
save only for the catheter tube now snaking from his penis to the
bag hanging beneath it. The bag was almost a quarter full.
Bartholemew sat in glum silence as the woman moved around him,
humming softly to herself while she examined his bonds. She tilted
his head to inspect the effectiveness of his gag and seemed
pleased. "My, how much more peaceful my hotel has been since you
were dealt with," she remarked.
Her next item of interest was the catheter tube. Having never seen
one before, she was somewhat curious about it. Leaning over the
boy from the side, she gripped his unimpressive willy in her
fingers and raised it slightly, so as to study the tube where it
disappeared into the appendage itself behind its covering of white
tape.
"How very sweet," she said at last. "I think all little boys
should be fitted with these to keep them toilet-trained." She
released his dick to reach under and roughly pinch one of his bum
cheeks. "They should have daily enemas too – just like the one
Nurse Collins told me she squeezed up that plump bottom of yours."
With that, she turned and walked purposefully to the door. "I'm
going off duty now, so do have a nice night." She stepped through
the door to give the naked 10-year-old a last look. "Delightful,
simply delightful!"
Moments later, Bartholemew was alone once more.
***
It was a little after midnight before Mrs Baxter eventually
arrived back, stirring Bartholemew from a fitful slumber. Tired
looking, but with a contented smile on her face, she placed down
her handbag and removed her coat. The bound boy noticed that her
lipstick was smudged slightly and that her previously so-neat hair
was just a little out of place. He wondered just what kind of
"business meeting" she'd been attending while he'd been abandoned
and forgotten in such a humiliating state for so many hours.
Pulling off her gloves, his guardian stood before him, casting a
pleased-looking gaze over his restraints and catheterization. "I
was going to tie you to your bed, but I'm too tired to bother with
you this evening," she intoned. "You can sleep like that. In the
morning I'll fit your anti-masturbation belt then we'll be on our
way to France. However, since you've demonstrated that you're not
to be trusted, you will not be travelling first class beside me.
You will make the journey by other means."
Mrs Baxter strode off to the bathroom to remove her make-up before
bed. "You should get some sleep now. Tomorrow your training
begins. Tomorrow I start making a good little boy out of you."
She closed the bathroom door and was gone from the view of the
horrified nude bound so tightly to his chair. He looked down at
his little dick, half hidden by the tape around its tip, and
wondered just what kind of an horrendous contraption an "anti-
masturbation belt" might be. He also pondered his guardian's
disclosure about him making the trip to France "by other means",
and he wondered what she meant.
***
Come the morning, Mrs Baxter was at the check-out desk of the
hotel to settle her bill. As she stood signing a cheque, the hotel
porter wheeled a hefty trunk from the elevator to the main doors.
"Oh, try to keep it upright if possible, please," she asked him as
the container went by her. "I have a few fragile items inside."
Standing to one side, Miss Dawson noted her comments to the porter
and then continued with her checking of the guest list. It wasn't
until later that it occurred to her there had been no sign of
Bartholemew in company with Mrs Baxter. Puzzled, the elegant hotel
manager thought on the mystery for a while. Then she recalled the
weighty looking trunk making its way out of her hotel. She
pondered this, then again on the absence of the pesky little boy.
After some moments, her face lit in a broad smile.