To Adventure and Battle I Ride

Photo-story from Februs 31 featuring Tiffany Walker as Lucie Bond.

Ever the ingenue! Lucie Bond couldn’t resist a smile as she wandered through the side streets of yet another provincial town in the hour before rehearsals were due to begin. She didn’t really mind — there were plenty enough actresses who would envy her the constant stream of work she’d had since leaving drama school —it was just funny to think that she was forever cast in the role of vulnerable, exploited or just plain innocent teenager when she was actually well into her twenties.

The real irony was that she didn’t realise how closely aligned her own character and the roles she played actually were. Her youthful sense of wonder and curiosity tended to lead her into an amazing assortment of situations that would have made a captivating, if unbelievable, television sit-com. There had been the dodgy restaurateur who had left her facing irate gangster creditors; the research she had conducted in a massage parlour for a play that had found her facing charges of prostitution; the flight she missed because a nice Greek man had asked her to look for his lost puppy on the other side of the island from the rest of the cast…

Like many young actresses, she loved old movies; but unlike most of her peers, she didn’t seek out black and white Hollywood classics. Lucie loved the films of the sixties that showed the changes in social attitudes of that swinging era. There were the “heavies” like Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, Alfie, and Room at the Top, but her real favourites were the more obscure, lightweight flicks such as Prudence and the Pill, Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush, Twinky and Candy. “Virgins on the Verge” was how she thought of them: innocent blonde-fringed, mini-skirted dolly birds having adventures, gaining experience but never understanding how they contributed to their own downfalls.

Just like Lucie! In fact, as she strolled nonchalantly down the sun-basked street, she looked alarmingly like one of her heroines: a light summer dress that barely covered her panties, long fair hair and strappy sandals worn over cute white knee socks. How were passers-by to know she had worn the outfit to get into her latest role?

She glanced idly in the windows displaying luggage, foreign foods, antiques and second-hand clothes but came to a sudden stop outside a shop whose wares she could not immediately make out. She thought at first it was a saddlers, but her brief encounters in stables had not exposed her to any of these particular types of tackle.

Intrigued and unabashed, she pushed open the door of the small emporium and was immediately intoxicated by the smell of leather. No shop assistant was in sight, so she began to check out the displays. She didn’t know the names for many of the strange objects, but she was able to work out their purpose and the thespian in her soon found her posing with all manner of devices strapped, laced or latched on to body parts. It didn’t occur to her that she was visible both to casual passers-by and anyone watching the closed circuit security television system.

George Hutchings had never seen Lucie’s theatrical performances, but he was greatly enjoying the show she was inadvertently putting on for him now. He let her toy with the masks and fetish clothing, observed her playful curiosity as she inspected a collection of “marital aids” and gasped in wonder as she moved on to the discipline section and casually began flicking whips and swishing canes. When she undid her dress and without any sign of embarrassment latched a titty clamp on to her left nipple, he decided it was time to intervene. He emerged from the all-purpose back room, feigning an air of outrage.

‘Do you intend buying that?’ he barked. ‘I don’t remember putting up a sign inviting you to try before you buy!’

Still unfazed, Lucie turned her big blue eyes on him and said guilelessly, ‘I am so sorry. I was so fascinated by your shop I couldn’t stop myself. Of course I’ll buy something, but I’m not sure about this.’ She casually removed the vicious clip from her breast, only experiencing the rush of searing pain as she was replacing it on the shelf. ‘Wow! I didn’t realise it would hurt more off than on!’ she breathed and tenderly stroked her throbbing nipple before tucking it gently back into her dress and re-fastening the button.

Mesmerised by this extraordinary waif, George turned the door sign to “closed”. ‘I think you’d like to see my special showroom downstairs,’ he said jovially and, without a murmur, Lucie let him usher her through a concealed door and down into what seemed to be a mediaeval dungeon. ‘Now I can show you how some of my wares are meant to be employed. I take it you’re not very experienced in these matters?’ he asked, already sensing the reply.

‘Oh no,’ Lucie responded. ‘I’ve never even seen anything like it before. It won’t hurt much will it?’ and she absent-mindedly stroked her left breast through the flowery fabric of her frock.

‘No more than you want it to,’ George Hutchings assured her. ‘Now, why don’t you just raise your skirt a little so I can see your panties?’

A little was all it needed to be raised: any more and she would have had to take it off! She lifted the hem slowly to reveal pristine white pants, close-fitting but modest. George selected a martinet similar to one she had inspected upstairs.

‘Now this will sting,’ he told her, ‘but you can take it and, after the first few, I promise you will come to enjoy it very much.’ He led her to the far wall, its rough brickwork painted deepest black but with a crimson cross reaching floor to ceiling. ‘Just lean against this to steady yourself.’

As the leather fronds impacted against her bottom for the first time, Lucie doubted she would ever like it, but she trusted the nice man who was taking so much time to explain his wares to her, so she gritted her teeth and pushed out her bottom just as he told her to and accepted another nine swipes that left her tingling from the small of her back, between her thighs, around her hips and, of course, all over her buttocks. When they stopped landing, Lucie still twitched as her flesh struggled to absorb the strange sensations.

‘There, now you’re used to it, I think we can dispense with these.’ A hard object was latching onto her panties and tugging them down. ‘We’ll leave them at your knees for the time being,’ George told her. Now, I’m going to give you eight stokes of the cane and I want you to count each one aloud. Ready?’

‘Yes, thank you.’ Lucie responded, quietly, but ever so polite.

The cane was ferocious. She tried ever so hard to stay in position but it was so difficult to stop her knees buckling and bottom from bobbing up and down. She tried enormously hard to stay still and to count aloud, and she was very embarrassed at her inability to do either. The fourth stroke completely took her breath away and she couldn’t call out the number, but George was very patient and gave her a few seconds to recover and then delivered the stroke again, in exactly the same place.

After the eight were delivered, George said he was very pleased with her and as a special treat he was going to show her how just changing position slightly could alter the effects of a caning. He helped her take off her knickers and her dress and to get up onto a special padded bench, a bit like an old-fashioned gym horse; then he had her kneel with her head low and her bottom raised high.

She was a bit embarrassed, but George didn’t seem to mind her thrusting her bum out towards him and he was very anxious to show her what he meant about the different positions.

She was already quite sore, so he just gave her three more strokes and she didn’t have to count them, but they were all at the lower part of her bottom-cheeks where they turned into her thighs and because the skin was stretched taut, they landed close together and stung not just at the point of impact, but all the way through that lower part of her body.

‘You’re being very good,’ George praised her. ‘I’ve got a special treat for you, to take your mind off some of the discomfort I expect your bottom feels.’ Lucie smiled weakly.

He helped her kneel up and produced what looked like a paint roller with a giant hair curler attached. He rolled this up and down the front of her body, over her breasts, her tummy and down into her groin. It was a strange feeling, sharp and tingly but not enough to hurt or make her want to stop him. A kind of warning rather than an actual assault. She giggled, mainly because she didn’t know how she should respond.

‘Nice?’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Right, well, back to work and maybe I’ll let you have some more of that in a little while. Now, if you lie across the bench the other way I’ll show you what this leather strap feels like.’

It felt heavy and hot, Lucie discovered. As it landed there was a moment of calm nothingness then a sudden eruption of heat exactly at the point of impact and then millions of tiny creatures seemed to dart out and scurry all over her skin.

George was very thorough: he alternated between cheeks and made sure each blow landed on a different space so that her whole bottom turned a deep shade of magenta and she felt as if her skin was trying to turn inside out.

George was amazed (and delighted!). ‘You’re one of those young minxes who just can’t get enough aren’t you?’ he asked, trying to sound shocked. By way of reply Lucie smiled cheerfully; she felt she had had more than enough, but he’d taken so much time and trouble over her she just couldn’t disagree with him.

‘You need a good old-fashioned hand spanking to finish you off. Come on, girl, don’t dilly-dally, get across my lap right now!’

She scrambled to obey, hands on the floor one side, legs stretched out the other with her middle bit straddling his thighs. Amazingly, his hand seemed to hurt just as much as the strap and it was more versatile. He slapped her from the hard bony bit just under her waist down to the soft white skin above her socks. He had her close and straighten her legs so that he could spank the outer sides of her thighs, then had her part her feet wide so he could do the same to the tender inner flesh. Sweeping, upward swats took in the little private area at the top of her legs and she was embarrassed to note how damp it felt when the side of his hand grazed her pubes.

‘Still not enough, eh?’ he said as he eased her from his lap. ‘I don’t know, maybe I’m getting old; I thought you’d be well satisfied by now!’

Lucie longed to scream at him that she was more than satisfied, that it really was all right for him to stop, but still that nervous grin fixed itself to her mouth and her eyes conveyed their message of rueful submission.

‘Okay, stretch yourself out against the cross, facing me.’ Her eyes widened as she saw he had once again taken up the martinet. He drew its long lashes seductively over her breasts and belly, teasing her, telling her to let him know when he should stop.

‘No, no go on!’ she heard herself urging. ‘Whip me please. Please.’

He needed no further encouragement. Taking care not to hit her face or strike too hard in delicate areas, he lashed the leather thongs against her erect nipples, struck the soft undersides of her breasts, whipped the pale soft expanse of her torso, flailed the dark delta of her sex and the spread lengths of her thighs.

Lucie moaned; Lucie writhed, holding her spread-eagled stance with difficulty. Nice George, lovely George, doing all this for her, making her feel so many things…

And then it stopped and Lucie stood, arms and legs spread wide, the front of her body glowing with a scarlet tracery. She groaned her frustration, body lurching from side to side, seeking the kiss of the whip, needing fulfilment.

‘Just one more little pleasure and this is most definitely your lot,’ George informed her. ‘If you want any more after that, you’ll have to ring and make an appointment. Down on the floor, lift yourself onto your shoulders and raise your legs high.’

The floor was cold, especially against her scorching flesh, but she did as she was told and let George guide her feet into the arm holes of a pillory. She was not fastened in, but she knew she was not expected to try to escape. ‘A reprise of what you have learnt so far,’ George said and promptly delivered three hard swats from each of the implements he had used so far.

The inverted position meant that his target area took in the underswell of her buttocks, her engorged labia and her inner thighs. His heavy, palm made her throb; the martinet made her raise herself even higher onto her shoulders, the cane brought her back down but made her jerk lewdly and the strap brought an uncontrollable juddering and an animal howl that continued long after George had put it down and stepped back to admire his handiwork.

When the trembling and sobbing finally subsided, he helped Lucie to her feet and let her lean against the metal gateway leading to the stairs. She welcomed its cold strength and gradually became calm, starting to worry about how she would conceal the marks on her legs from the rest of the cast. George was silent for a long time, then he handed her the discarded clothes and asked whether she had any questions.

In a quiet, hopeful tone she said, ‘Yes: please will you give me your card so I can phone for that appointment you mentioned?’