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Ella's Obedience
- Thread starter Primus pilus
- Start date
kneel_down_ella
Magistrate
hey everyone. i've been away dealing with family stuff and Pp has very generously not posted while i couldn't reply...gonna start it up again this week if he's ok with it 
Primus pilus
Magister Australis
Ella, it is so wonderful to see you back,hey everyone. i've been away dealing with family stuff and Pp has very generously not posted while i couldn't reply...gonna start it up again this week if he's ok with it
still neatly dressed, ready again to kneel so attentively at Pp's chair in his study.
But it isn't generosity that held Pp from posting. This story is reliant on you being here to add those thoughts that lie in Ella's mind. Without those this story is so much poorer.
I am sure the followers of your journey will be waiting so see where Pp takes you next.
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Really good to have you back around, Ella!hey everyone. i've been away dealing with family stuff and Pp has very generously not posted while i couldn't reply...gonna start it up again this week if he's ok with it
kneel_down_ella
Magistrate
this is the ultimate test. if anyone comes by now, i'll be discovered
it's hard not to imagine thess kneeling next to me. i think about her as i wait submissively...waiting for Pp to open the door
kneel_down_ella
Magistrate
Primus pilus
Magister Australis
Ella's Return
Ella feels as though she is waiting forever. The crunch of tyres on gravel as the driver left, the regular sound of cars passing the entrance to the drive, the sounds of neighbours at their weekend chores all add to the feeling that she might be discovered there. There is brief moment of fear as Ella hears the door open then a feeling of relief as she sees the polished boots and neatly pressed trousers she knows as his. Then his firm voice, "stand Ella. Follow me," and, as he turns, the door begins to swing closed. The young woman struggles to her feet, unbalanced with her wrists cuffed behind, but she manages to hold the door with her shoulder before slipping into the gloom of the corridor.
She expects to be led to his study and is surprised when he walks past that door and out onto a verandah where a table is set for lunch. Ella is not surprised to see a single place set and for Pp to take the only chair. With a glance he directs Ella to her place, there, on a square of carpet that covers the timber floor, at his knee.
"Ella, while you are here you must, as a rule, keep your eyes downcast no matter what might attract your attention. If I want you to look up I will tell you. Do you understand?"
"Yes Pp," and he rings a silver bell.
There are footsteps on the timber floor in response and Ella hears the swish, swish of a long skirt before she see the slender legs of a tall woman as a platter of food and a pitcher are placed on the table. With her eyes downcast as directed Ella can make out little of the woman though she can see that her long skirt is split high at the front exposing the woman's inner thighs at each step and, around each ankle, Ella can see that the woman wears a leather band.
With lunch served the older woman does not linger and Ella watches through hooded eyes as she leaves with that long skirt swishing rythmically. The split that separates the front of her skirt is repeated at the back. Ella catches a glimpse of a thin but livid mark across the lower curve of the woman's bottom and shudders as she remembers that thought as she dressed. Did she, deep down, want to feel the sting of his hand on her bare buttocks again?
With the woman gone Pp eats a little himself before offering Ella some fresh-baked bread still warm from the oven, some cold meat and fruit with his fingers. With her wrists still cuffed at her back Ella has no choice but to eat what he offers.
After lunch he takes Ella through the extensive grounds around his home. Pp walks briskly along a series of gravelled paths and Ella has no choice but to pad along naked, wrists still cuffed and on bare feet. Here and there Ella wonders at some of the garden furniture. A short flagpole, complete with halyards, surrounding by paving in a quiet place, cross arms really too low to display subservient flags below the main.
Well away from the house, two trees spaced more closely than the others, rough bark worn smooth on branches and trunks. A stable block and exercise yard though no horses. Ella thinks it must be from a previous owner though the building and surrounds seem well-maintained.
And park benches at regular intervals, comfortable-looking but each with steel rings embedded on the backs and legs. Pp stops at one bench and sits in the shade. Ella knows, instinctively, that her place is on the paving at his knee.
'Tell me Ella."
"Yes Pp?"
"This morning, as you were dressing to come here, you so desperately wanted to touch yourself." It is a statement. Not a question. He knows her.
"Yes Pp."
"Yet you didn't." Another statement.
'No Pp."
"Because you were afraid of disappointing me."
"Yes Pp."
"And not because you feared punishment. In fact you thought long about disobeying me because, deep inside, you wondered whether you wanted that again."
Ella cannot answer. How is it that he knows her thoughts?
There is no need for him to give Ella any order. She shuffles forward of her own accord and rises enough to lay her body across his lap. The feeling is so strong, her wrists cuffed behind, her breasts crushed against his muscled thigh, her bottom offered up and, below, her sex slightly opened and glistening between her thighs.
Then Ella answers. "Yes Pp. I did." And the man raises his right hand and brings it crashing down on the young woman's proffered bottom. The slap as his hand smacks against her flesh is loud and Ella cannot help wonder who might hear. Ella's cries are controlled, mixed with quiet moans and, at each strike from his hand Ella opens her thighs wider, trying to position herself for his touch, there, where she wants it so urgently.
But he is careful , so careful, that his stinging hand does not venture lower. No contact there, where she is so warm and wet. No orgasm. Not yet. Not until he decides.
17. Ella's Weekend - Saturday Afternoon
Ella feels as though she is waiting forever. The crunch of tyres on gravel as the driver left, the regular sound of cars passing the entrance to the drive, the sounds of neighbours at their weekend chores all add to the feeling that she might be discovered there. There is brief moment of fear as Ella hears the door open then a feeling of relief as she sees the polished boots and neatly pressed trousers she knows as his. Then his firm voice, "stand Ella. Follow me," and, as he turns, the door begins to swing closed. The young woman struggles to her feet, unbalanced with her wrists cuffed behind, but she manages to hold the door with her shoulder before slipping into the gloom of the corridor.
She expects to be led to his study and is surprised when he walks past that door and out onto a verandah where a table is set for lunch. Ella is not surprised to see a single place set and for Pp to take the only chair. With a glance he directs Ella to her place, there, on a square of carpet that covers the timber floor, at his knee.
"Ella, while you are here you must, as a rule, keep your eyes downcast no matter what might attract your attention. If I want you to look up I will tell you. Do you understand?"
"Yes Pp," and he rings a silver bell.
There are footsteps on the timber floor in response and Ella hears the swish, swish of a long skirt before she see the slender legs of a tall woman as a platter of food and a pitcher are placed on the table. With her eyes downcast as directed Ella can make out little of the woman though she can see that her long skirt is split high at the front exposing the woman's inner thighs at each step and, around each ankle, Ella can see that the woman wears a leather band.
With lunch served the older woman does not linger and Ella watches through hooded eyes as she leaves with that long skirt swishing rythmically. The split that separates the front of her skirt is repeated at the back. Ella catches a glimpse of a thin but livid mark across the lower curve of the woman's bottom and shudders as she remembers that thought as she dressed. Did she, deep down, want to feel the sting of his hand on her bare buttocks again?
With the woman gone Pp eats a little himself before offering Ella some fresh-baked bread still warm from the oven, some cold meat and fruit with his fingers. With her wrists still cuffed at her back Ella has no choice but to eat what he offers.
After lunch he takes Ella through the extensive grounds around his home. Pp walks briskly along a series of gravelled paths and Ella has no choice but to pad along naked, wrists still cuffed and on bare feet. Here and there Ella wonders at some of the garden furniture. A short flagpole, complete with halyards, surrounding by paving in a quiet place, cross arms really too low to display subservient flags below the main.
Well away from the house, two trees spaced more closely than the others, rough bark worn smooth on branches and trunks. A stable block and exercise yard though no horses. Ella thinks it must be from a previous owner though the building and surrounds seem well-maintained.
And park benches at regular intervals, comfortable-looking but each with steel rings embedded on the backs and legs. Pp stops at one bench and sits in the shade. Ella knows, instinctively, that her place is on the paving at his knee.
'Tell me Ella."
"Yes Pp?"
"This morning, as you were dressing to come here, you so desperately wanted to touch yourself." It is a statement. Not a question. He knows her.
"Yes Pp."
"Yet you didn't." Another statement.
'No Pp."
"Because you were afraid of disappointing me."
"Yes Pp."
"And not because you feared punishment. In fact you thought long about disobeying me because, deep inside, you wondered whether you wanted that again."
Ella cannot answer. How is it that he knows her thoughts?
There is no need for him to give Ella any order. She shuffles forward of her own accord and rises enough to lay her body across his lap. The feeling is so strong, her wrists cuffed behind, her breasts crushed against his muscled thigh, her bottom offered up and, below, her sex slightly opened and glistening between her thighs.
Then Ella answers. "Yes Pp. I did." And the man raises his right hand and brings it crashing down on the young woman's proffered bottom. The slap as his hand smacks against her flesh is loud and Ella cannot help wonder who might hear. Ella's cries are controlled, mixed with quiet moans and, at each strike from his hand Ella opens her thighs wider, trying to position herself for his touch, there, where she wants it so urgently.
But he is careful , so careful, that his stinging hand does not venture lower. No contact there, where she is so warm and wet. No orgasm. Not yet. Not until he decides.
kneel_down_ella
Magistrate
i can't deny him. by now he knows me too well. i accept my punishment
so many thoughts in my mind...who was that woman? what is her role in this?
so many thoughts in my mind...who was that woman? what is her role in this?
Primus pilus
Magister Australis
Ella's Return
Ella's bottom is still red, still stinging, as Pp escorts her to dinner. He is dressed formally in dinner jacket and black bow tie that Ella notes is hand-tied and not clipped or held by a velcroed strap. He had watched Ella as she showered and added some minimal make-up then she had knelt by his knee with her eyes so obediently downcast as the mysterious older woman had served them drinks on the verandah at sunset.
To an onlooker it might seem so very strange. A man dressed so formally gripping a naked woman firmly by the elbow but to Ella it feels so natural. Where she feels so completely at ease. Where she wants to be.
Ella is surprised that he escorts her to a chair and, like any gentleman, holds it back for her then sliding it forwards behind her knees, as she sits, bare skin on dark leather. But Ella is less surprised as a shadow passes over her eyes as he ties one of those black silk scarves firmly in place.
"Ella, my staff are so very discrete but, in return, they must be permitted their anonymity." And the young woman nods her understanding though she can clearly hear that now-familiar swish, swish of a long divided skirt as dishes are placed on the table and champagne and wine bottles are opened. Finally Ella feels the brush of soft knuckles across her thighs as a crisp linen serviette is draped there. As the sound of the swishing skirt fades Ella feels her blindfold removed though she knows he will tie it again as he needs through dinner.
Pp toasts Ella with the deep purple wine in his glass and she returns the salute with her champagne. There is small talk, the news, a little politics, not unlike any couple discussing the day over dinner. The formally dressed man and the naked young woman. So incongruous yet it feels so natural to Ella.
The blindfold again as the remains of entree is cleared and the main course is served then, once more, as coffee is served.
As the man sips his coffee he appraises Ella then, "you were aroused at the sting of my hand on your bottom Ella."
As usual it is a statement of fact and Ella can only agree.
"Yes Pp."
"Then we will explore that further. Come," as he offers the young woman his hand Ella rises, "it is time I showed you some other rooms in my home."
There is a door, off the corridor, opposite the one that leads to his study and he opens it and directs Ella through. She finds a small landing then a staircase leading down to a large cellar. The end Ella sees first is lined with racks of wine and features a heavy table complete with decanters and tasting glasses.
He holds her hand firmly as she turns. The other end is so very different. There are heavy timber structures too but these are not tables. Benches, one padded, timber frames, other devices too, each complete with leather straps and steel rings. He can feel her mind through the grip at her hand. Fear, worry, but anticipation too. Thrilling.
He walks the young woman to a bench where Ella can see cuffs, straps, a number of gags and blindfolds. On the wall hang instruments of pain. Canes, crops and whips. Ella shivers.
"The cellar is soundproof but a gag is in order."
He reaches for a thick leather strap with a buckle and, in its centre, a bright red ball. Ella opens her mouth to accept the ball but, as he buckles the strap behind her head, he forces her mouth open so much wider as he places the ball behind her teeth.
Ella looks at him, a question there that she cannot ask through the gag.
"How many Ella? That is for me to judge. But, if I misjudge you, if I go too far, you must shake your head three times. Understood."
As Ella nods, slowly taking in what is to come, he leads her to the padded bench. The young woman leans forward, obedient despite her thoughts, and the man secures her wrists and ankles to the bench's legs. Her eyes follow him as he selects a riding crop tipped with a leather loop then she shivers as he runs his left hand from her shoulder, down her back and over the swell of her bottom. She has felt the sting on his hand there but nothing more and Ella holds herself rigid, waiting, anticipating what sting this crop might bring.
She stays tense. Flinches as she imagines the first strike. "Steady Ella." Then the fire across her taut bottom. Her first taste on the pain of the crop.
He begins slowly, gently, carefully. Letting the heat build. Watching for signs of her arousal, the first grinding of her belly against the bench. As she looks for the pressure of the bench he pauses, his hand firm, controlling, "Ella? NO!"
Then he continues, the strokes irregular, some close together, some at longer intervals. Some firm, yet some so very gentle. Lifting her then, with his hand exercising control, bringing Ella down. But all the while he is careful, judging her, judging the strokes to raise bright red welts but not to break the skin or leave deeper bruises. All the while listening to the sobs, the groans, the deeper moans of her pleasure that vibrate through her gag.
He takes the young woman so close, so very close but, each time, in control, he holds, bringing her down.
......................
It is late before he decides it is time to allow Ella some rest. His final act is to clip a thin chain to the links that join the young woman's wrists. Ella tests the chain. It is thin, light, easily broken. It is clipped but not locked to either her wrists or the bed post. No more than symbolic.
Then, in that firm voice she knows to obey, "do not touch yourself during the night Ella. And wake me at 7:00.'
She takes two, three loops of the chain and grips it in her hand. Feeling the cool metal links warm in her hand and the heat of the welts across her bottom.
Ella will sleep, secure. But, before Ella lies down on the soft mat beside his bed, she kneels and clasps her hands in silent prayer.
18. Ella's Weekend - Saturday Night
Ella's bottom is still red, still stinging, as Pp escorts her to dinner. He is dressed formally in dinner jacket and black bow tie that Ella notes is hand-tied and not clipped or held by a velcroed strap. He had watched Ella as she showered and added some minimal make-up then she had knelt by his knee with her eyes so obediently downcast as the mysterious older woman had served them drinks on the verandah at sunset.
To an onlooker it might seem so very strange. A man dressed so formally gripping a naked woman firmly by the elbow but to Ella it feels so natural. Where she feels so completely at ease. Where she wants to be.
Ella is surprised that he escorts her to a chair and, like any gentleman, holds it back for her then sliding it forwards behind her knees, as she sits, bare skin on dark leather. But Ella is less surprised as a shadow passes over her eyes as he ties one of those black silk scarves firmly in place.
"Ella, my staff are so very discrete but, in return, they must be permitted their anonymity." And the young woman nods her understanding though she can clearly hear that now-familiar swish, swish of a long divided skirt as dishes are placed on the table and champagne and wine bottles are opened. Finally Ella feels the brush of soft knuckles across her thighs as a crisp linen serviette is draped there. As the sound of the swishing skirt fades Ella feels her blindfold removed though she knows he will tie it again as he needs through dinner.
Pp toasts Ella with the deep purple wine in his glass and she returns the salute with her champagne. There is small talk, the news, a little politics, not unlike any couple discussing the day over dinner. The formally dressed man and the naked young woman. So incongruous yet it feels so natural to Ella.
The blindfold again as the remains of entree is cleared and the main course is served then, once more, as coffee is served.
As the man sips his coffee he appraises Ella then, "you were aroused at the sting of my hand on your bottom Ella."
As usual it is a statement of fact and Ella can only agree.
"Yes Pp."
"Then we will explore that further. Come," as he offers the young woman his hand Ella rises, "it is time I showed you some other rooms in my home."
There is a door, off the corridor, opposite the one that leads to his study and he opens it and directs Ella through. She finds a small landing then a staircase leading down to a large cellar. The end Ella sees first is lined with racks of wine and features a heavy table complete with decanters and tasting glasses.
He holds her hand firmly as she turns. The other end is so very different. There are heavy timber structures too but these are not tables. Benches, one padded, timber frames, other devices too, each complete with leather straps and steel rings. He can feel her mind through the grip at her hand. Fear, worry, but anticipation too. Thrilling.
He walks the young woman to a bench where Ella can see cuffs, straps, a number of gags and blindfolds. On the wall hang instruments of pain. Canes, crops and whips. Ella shivers.
"The cellar is soundproof but a gag is in order."
He reaches for a thick leather strap with a buckle and, in its centre, a bright red ball. Ella opens her mouth to accept the ball but, as he buckles the strap behind her head, he forces her mouth open so much wider as he places the ball behind her teeth.
Ella looks at him, a question there that she cannot ask through the gag.
"How many Ella? That is for me to judge. But, if I misjudge you, if I go too far, you must shake your head three times. Understood."
As Ella nods, slowly taking in what is to come, he leads her to the padded bench. The young woman leans forward, obedient despite her thoughts, and the man secures her wrists and ankles to the bench's legs. Her eyes follow him as he selects a riding crop tipped with a leather loop then she shivers as he runs his left hand from her shoulder, down her back and over the swell of her bottom. She has felt the sting on his hand there but nothing more and Ella holds herself rigid, waiting, anticipating what sting this crop might bring.
She stays tense. Flinches as she imagines the first strike. "Steady Ella." Then the fire across her taut bottom. Her first taste on the pain of the crop.
He begins slowly, gently, carefully. Letting the heat build. Watching for signs of her arousal, the first grinding of her belly against the bench. As she looks for the pressure of the bench he pauses, his hand firm, controlling, "Ella? NO!"
Then he continues, the strokes irregular, some close together, some at longer intervals. Some firm, yet some so very gentle. Lifting her then, with his hand exercising control, bringing Ella down. But all the while he is careful, judging her, judging the strokes to raise bright red welts but not to break the skin or leave deeper bruises. All the while listening to the sobs, the groans, the deeper moans of her pleasure that vibrate through her gag.
He takes the young woman so close, so very close but, each time, in control, he holds, bringing her down.
......................
It is late before he decides it is time to allow Ella some rest. His final act is to clip a thin chain to the links that join the young woman's wrists. Ella tests the chain. It is thin, light, easily broken. It is clipped but not locked to either her wrists or the bed post. No more than symbolic.
Then, in that firm voice she knows to obey, "do not touch yourself during the night Ella. And wake me at 7:00.'
She takes two, three loops of the chain and grips it in her hand. Feeling the cool metal links warm in her hand and the heat of the welts across her bottom.
Ella will sleep, secure. But, before Ella lies down on the soft mat beside his bed, she kneels and clasps her hands in silent prayer.
kneel_down_ella
Magistrate
it took everything i had not to come...i almost did when he put the ballgag in. i've wanted to wear one for so long. it felt wonderful and terrible...filling my mouth and forcing my jaw open
going to be hard not to touch myself tonight. god will give me strength. i imagine what it will be like to have my hands tied behind my back and a ballgag in my mouth, and to kneel and pray. what could be more submissive than a tied up girl, kneeling with her head bowed, quietly asking for mercy?
going to be hard not to touch myself tonight. god will give me strength. i imagine what it will be like to have my hands tied behind my back and a ballgag in my mouth, and to kneel and pray. what could be more submissive than a tied up girl, kneeling with her head bowed, quietly asking for mercy?
This onlooker could apply many words, but none of them are 'strange'
Primus pilus
Magister Australis
Ella's Return
19. Ella's Weekend - Sunday - Breakfast
On Sunday morning at the appointed time Ella wakes him. Her lips and tongue gentle at first then, as he stirs, more urgent.Later Ella kneels patiently in his dressing room while Pp showers. When he is dressed he places one shoe, then the other at her knee and she ties the laces on his polished brown brogues before following him to the patio where breakfast is laid out on a low table. Ella waits until the man sits before kneeling beside him on square of carpet that she knows is her place.
There is no sign of the older woman who served him yesterday but there are croissants and pastries, fruit, some ham and coffees. Pp throws an espresso into his mouth, savours the rich crema on his tongue then nods to the young woman.
"Eat Ella," and she holds up her wrists so he can unclip the chain that joins her cuffs.
Pp finishes eating and sits back with his second coffee. "Ella. You were educated a good catholic girl. You told me about kneeling in chapel at school and I can imagine that is where you first felt the power of someone over you and the secret thrill of your own submission. How long since you have been to church?"
"A while Pp."
"I want you to shower then wait for me in my study with what I asked you to bring with you."
As Ella scampers off to do his bidding the man rings a silver bell and the older woman arrives with another coffee. She places it carefully before him then stands, feet apart, her wrists behind her back. His hand finds the woman's thigh through the opened split at the back of her long skirt and strokes the soft skin there, a sign of long familiarity.
"She is doing well Sir."
He nods, "yes. "
"Might this woman ask how she took the crop Sir?"
"Better than expected," as he reaches further and his fingers trace the lines that cross the swell of her buttocks.
He adds nothing more and, though his hand would linger at the curves and marks beneath that long skirt, he pats her gently and the woman begins clearing the table. When she leaves to that rhythmic swish of her skirt he savours the rich espresso as he reviews his plans for the day before he rises and follows the Ella's path to his study.
kneel_down_ella
Magistrate
i fetch my clothes quickly...the skirt and blouse and the blazer. i know what's going to happen...we're going to church. the thought is so exciting and arousing...i must not come while i pray...i must not...
She kneels and silently prays... not the usual prayers that are done in a church but that she would not come...
...the more she prays though the wetter the insides of her thighs become as she anticipates her 'penance'...
...the more she prays though the wetter the insides of her thighs become as she anticipates her 'penance'...
Primus pilus
Magister Australis
Sunday here Down Under and it will be Sunday where Ella is when she wakes so we thought this an appropriately symbolic day to post this episode. Both Ella and Pp are pleased with this particular episode. We hope you all are too.
Ella and Pp.
Ella's Return
In his study Pp finds Ella kneeling beside that chair. She knows it is her place. As he sits he notices a little tension in the young woman as she prepares herself for what ever he might ask of her. A little tension still though her responses are becoming more natural, more instinctive, without conscious thought.
The clothes he asked Ella to bring, those parts of her old school uniform, are hanging on the same rack as those scarves he has used to add to her bondage. He knows that Ella has questions. She knows him well enough that it is not some perverse schoolgirl fantasy. So why?
"Ella, when I first took you to that small church I could see that you were aroused through the act of kneeling submissively before me, through accepting my small touches of correction. My power over you, used carefully. My control over you and over myself. But as you raised your hands in prayer you showed some memory of another submission, one long held. This morning I will ask you to look inside yourself to remember those first thoughts of submission."
Pp motions Ella to stand then collects two coils of thin hemp rope from a cupboard. The first is wrapped around snugly the woman's chest, close above and below her breasts and with a simple halter kept low around her neck. Her arms are left free.
When he touches her hip Ella shuffles her feet wide parting her thighs for him. She feels his hands run a loop of the rope around her waist then take the ends through the loop and down over her belly. His fingers spread her labia and the rope is pulled deep, one strand each side of her clitoris before passing between her buttocks, under the rope at the small of her back, upwards to the rope of her breast harness then back down between into the furrow through her bottom and between parted thighs. This time he places the rope outside Ella's sex folding her labia over the strands embedded there before, finally, finishing with a flat knot against the small of her back.
Ella moves a little, experimenting. As she bends forwards the ropes tighten and she moans. Standing straight eases the pressure there. He has kept her near the edge for almost 24 hours. She breathes deeply trying to calm her surging arousal.
As she dresses, donning that uniform of white, long-sleeved blouse, snug skirt and blazer the movement plays on the ropes. The feel of clothing over the rope that serves as underwear accentuates her arousal. Her breathing is ragged.
"Please Pp. May I? Please?"
Just one word. "No."
His hands trace the rope beneath her clothes, an adjustment here and there as he makes sure that hempen underwear remains discretely hidden.
The short walk to his car is an ordeal as the rough hemp stimulates. Sitting too. Each corner, each acceleration, each stop and start adds to Ella's arousal.
Then Pp parks the car, helps Ella out and holds her elbow as he walks her into that small church. Not so private as it was on that first evening. So very, very public now.
He leads Ella to a pew near the back of the church. It is a long walk to the communion rail.
As Pp takes his place sitting on the pew Ella kneels, feeling the rope at work. His touches, the small corrections he makes to her posture are discrete and pass for affectionate caresses though many would wonder at incongruity of the young woman with that much older escort who stands and sits but never kneels with her. The touches represent so much more to Ella and each one adds to the growing heat she feels.
For the young woman the service passes slowly and, each time she stands, sits, kneels, she is constantly reminded of that heat and the need to resist it, to please the man beside her. But, more than that, the memories of that schoolgirl, kneeling in submission at the communion rail play through Ella's mind.
Then the time comes. That long walk down the aisle. Communion. Alone. With only his rope and his gaze to accompany her.
Ella and Pp.
Ella's Return
20. Ella's Weekend - Sunday - Dressed for Church
In his study Pp finds Ella kneeling beside that chair. She knows it is her place. As he sits he notices a little tension in the young woman as she prepares herself for what ever he might ask of her. A little tension still though her responses are becoming more natural, more instinctive, without conscious thought.
The clothes he asked Ella to bring, those parts of her old school uniform, are hanging on the same rack as those scarves he has used to add to her bondage. He knows that Ella has questions. She knows him well enough that it is not some perverse schoolgirl fantasy. So why?
"Ella, when I first took you to that small church I could see that you were aroused through the act of kneeling submissively before me, through accepting my small touches of correction. My power over you, used carefully. My control over you and over myself. But as you raised your hands in prayer you showed some memory of another submission, one long held. This morning I will ask you to look inside yourself to remember those first thoughts of submission."
Pp motions Ella to stand then collects two coils of thin hemp rope from a cupboard. The first is wrapped around snugly the woman's chest, close above and below her breasts and with a simple halter kept low around her neck. Her arms are left free.
When he touches her hip Ella shuffles her feet wide parting her thighs for him. She feels his hands run a loop of the rope around her waist then take the ends through the loop and down over her belly. His fingers spread her labia and the rope is pulled deep, one strand each side of her clitoris before passing between her buttocks, under the rope at the small of her back, upwards to the rope of her breast harness then back down between into the furrow through her bottom and between parted thighs. This time he places the rope outside Ella's sex folding her labia over the strands embedded there before, finally, finishing with a flat knot against the small of her back.
Ella moves a little, experimenting. As she bends forwards the ropes tighten and she moans. Standing straight eases the pressure there. He has kept her near the edge for almost 24 hours. She breathes deeply trying to calm her surging arousal.
As she dresses, donning that uniform of white, long-sleeved blouse, snug skirt and blazer the movement plays on the ropes. The feel of clothing over the rope that serves as underwear accentuates her arousal. Her breathing is ragged.
"Please Pp. May I? Please?"
Just one word. "No."
His hands trace the rope beneath her clothes, an adjustment here and there as he makes sure that hempen underwear remains discretely hidden.
The short walk to his car is an ordeal as the rough hemp stimulates. Sitting too. Each corner, each acceleration, each stop and start adds to Ella's arousal.
Then Pp parks the car, helps Ella out and holds her elbow as he walks her into that small church. Not so private as it was on that first evening. So very, very public now.
He leads Ella to a pew near the back of the church. It is a long walk to the communion rail.
As Pp takes his place sitting on the pew Ella kneels, feeling the rope at work. His touches, the small corrections he makes to her posture are discrete and pass for affectionate caresses though many would wonder at incongruity of the young woman with that much older escort who stands and sits but never kneels with her. The touches represent so much more to Ella and each one adds to the growing heat she feels.
For the young woman the service passes slowly and, each time she stands, sits, kneels, she is constantly reminded of that heat and the need to resist it, to please the man beside her. But, more than that, the memories of that schoolgirl, kneeling in submission at the communion rail play through Ella's mind.
Then the time comes. That long walk down the aisle. Communion. Alone. With only his rope and his gaze to accompany her.