Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. The Seamstress 2 (or The Seamstress' Son and the Master's Daughter) [With thanks to Medik for the story idea] By cc "What's it like when--you know, when--I mean, when you're in bed--with him?" the Master's sixteen-year-old daughter managed to stammer out to the seamstress. The seamstress paused in her bustling activity. She had been sewing the girl's wedding dress, as well as managing nearly every aspect of her upcoming wedding. It was a whirlwind of activity, for all that she and the Master had known the day was coming for longer than the girl herself, truth to tell. She sighed. "Oh, my darling girl. M'lady [the teenager smiled; after three years of essentially being her mother, she still called her that, as a slavewoman would. Officially she may have been a slave, but in every other way the seamstress was her mother, and that was how she thought of her. At first she had tried to get her to call her by name, but the seamstress had quietly persisted in addressing her as a slave would her Master's daughter, even if in every other way she treated the girl as her own.], first let me ask you: how much do you all ready know about it? I think you know by now the--the physical aspects of it, I mean which body part goes where, do you not?" "Yes, Seamstress, I know all that," she replied, with just a hint of the "of-course-I-know-that-do-you-think-I'm-stupid?" look so familiar to parents everywhere. "I meant, what's it like for--for you? When--when Daddy--when Daddy spanks you?" she ended in a whisper, now looking down at her lap, then back up at the slavewoman. The seamstress sat startled for a moment, a blush coming to her cheeks. And we were so sure we were being careful! she thought to herself. "Oh my dear! M'lady, we did not intend for you to know about that! I hope you know: your father would never be cruel to me! When he--when he--spanks me, it's--for our pleasure. It's only `play' discipline, not real." "I--I figured that out. At first I wasn't sure, when I first heard you. I think I was fourteen. [So long ago! the seamstress thought to herself.] You were crying out, "Oh, Master, please please!" or something like that, and I could hear the--the whip, or something, striking you. It sounded real for a minute. I almost burst in to tell Daddy to stop hurting you!" "Oh my sweet girl! That's so like you. But I'm glad you didn't, M'lady!" the seamstress answered with an embarrassed smile. "Me too," the girl replied, with a blush to her cheeks also. "I kept listening, and soon you were making noises like--like you were--well, at the time I thought you were eating something really good. But it wasn't long before I figured it out--" she said as she blushed even more deeply. "Pretty soon I was sneaking out of my room at night to listen to you being spanked and whipped, and--and--touch myself!" she finished in a hoarse whisper. "My darling girl! Listen to me, M'lady," and the seamstress gently took the girl's face in her hands, "Almost everyone--touches themselves, at your age, and many other ages as well! And as long as no one gets hurt, pretending to spank or be spanked during sex, and so forth, can be quite--stimulating!" She folded the girl in a motherly hug. After a few moments the seamstress said, "So. You want my son to spank you, and you don't know how to ask him, am I right?" The girl nodded, her face buried in her `mother's' chest. After a while she whispered, "Does--does Daddy ever--tie you up?" O my, the seamstress thought to herself. "N--no, he never has. Why, does the idea of it--excite you?" The girl nodded again, still hiding her face. "I know some people do that, and they seem to like it. As long as it's safe, with someone you love and trust, I think it's fine if a couple wants to do that." She thought for a moment, then leaned the girl out and looked in her eyes. "I think the best thing for you to do is to relax, don't worry about it, just see what happens. All right?" She chucked her under the chin, and the girl smiled back shyly. The next few days went by quickly, and soon the Master's daughter and the seamstress' son were standing at the altar: he resplendent in his best dress cavalry captain's uniform; she radiant in the elegant gown her seamstress `mother' had made for her; saying their vows: he to love, honor, and cherish; she to love, honor, and obey. Greeting the guests, the wedding feast, the dancing: all flew by. The sixteen-year-old bride had retired to her room to freshen up, and take a break from the excitement. She took her gown off, intending to change into something more comfortable. Suddenly without warning she felt herself grabbed. Strong hands seized her arms, a cloth went over her eyes and another over her mouth. A moment of shock, a moment of panic, a moment of struggle, and then-- "My darling girl, stop, listen to me, can you hear me? Can you tell who this is?" she heard a voice softly but urgently in her ear. She stopped struggling, hanging almost limp in her captors' arms. "You are safe. No one is going to harm you. This is a `bride-kidnapping'." The girl had heard of those; they still occurred quite regularly, especially amongst the rural folk. "Don't be afraid. Be nervous, be anxious. Be--stimulated. But not afraid. "You are to be bound, and prepared, and taken to your new Master." At these words the young girl's breath came short, and she felt a moistness between her legs. Hands brought her wrists behind her, bound them securely together; her ankles were treated the same. She was lifted and carried a short distance. From the sounds she could tell she was being taken into a carriage. They rode for perhaps a half an hour, then she was lifted out again and carried inside a building, then into a room, and laid on a couch or bed. She felt her ankles being unbound, spread apart, then bound again so that she could not bring her thighs together. Hands touched her at the juncture of her thighs; even as she gave a muffled cry through her gag and began to struggle, she realized that the touch was gentle, even familiar. "Hush, darling girl," the beloved voice spoke, and she tried to relax, though she trembled. The hands washed and lathered between her legs. Then she felt herself being shaved. At sixteen years old she was only lightly fledged to begin with, and soon her mons was as bare as when she was a little girl. The hands caressed her briefly, assessing the smoothness. Then one quick SMACK! of a slap onto her mons made her jump and squeak as the voice chuckled, "There. Now you are bare, as a slavegirl should be," she heard. The last vestiges of her clothing were removed. She was lifted and placed onto some sort of a seat; it felt like a toilet. A hand reached underneath her, and she cried out as she felt something press against her anus, then slide inside her. She could not prevent it; it was well-lubricated. She had had one governess who was fond of giving enemas, so she recognized the sensation as the solution was infused, filling her rectum. "Let it out, darling girl," she heard the beloved voice say, and she did. Another enema was given, and then another, the last smelling sweet and floral. Then gentle hands cleansed and dried her pudenda. "There. Now you are ready for your Master. That is my wedding present to you," she heard, and her face was caressed, her cheek kissed. She was carried into another room. She felt herself spreadeagled and bound. There seemed to be some type of padded bars in front and behind her at her waist. Her feet were on a small platform. She heard footsteps. A hand grasped her hair and bent her head backwards, firmly, but not with a jerk; a hand ran up and down her front, grasping and squeezing a breast, tweaking the nipple, running down to her cleft, seizing and hefting her nakedness. She whimpered into her gag, her knees weakened and her arms stretched as they took some of her weight. Her breath came short, and she felt her cleft becoming wet. His hand pulled her gag off, and hungry lips fastened onto her hers, his tongue penetrating into her mouth. As he held the deep kiss he ran his hand down to her buttocks and spanked her, SMACK-SMACK-SMACK! His mouth on hers stifled her cries. He broke off the kiss, leaving her gasping. He whispered in her ear, "My darling darling slave-wife, I love you so much. You are altogether adorable. "And you are altogether naughty, and are to be strictly disciplined, and submitted to your Master. I am going to leave the gag off, because I want to hear you as I discipline you," he finished, and smacked the tops of her thighs with his bare hand, SMACK! "AAAAH!" she yelped, a faint red handprint showing where the spank had landed, and "AA-AA-AAAAAH!" she continued to wordlessly exclaim as he spanked her repeatedly the tops of her thighs, front and back. He paused for a moment and ran his hand along the teenager's smooth thighs, caressing and soothing her as she whimpered. He whispered in her ear, "Are you all right, beloved slavegirl?" She answered breathlessly, "Oh, yes, Master, please please, Master!" He kissed her tenderly on the lips, then stepped back. She heard something like a crank turning, and felt herself lifted in her bonds, turned, repositioned. Soon she was in a supine posture, legs and arms still bound spreadeagled. She felt his hands at her face, and her blindfold was removed. Now she saw her beloved, the seamstress' son, the handsome and dashing young cavalry captain, her husband-Master, as he leaned over her, smiling down at her, caressing her cheek, kissing her forehead. "You are such a naughty slavegirl," he murmured, and slapped her cheeks, forehand and backhand, not hard, barely enough to sting, but she gasped with each one. He stepped back. She had a moment to look around. She was in a room she didn't recognize. There was a chair or two, a couch. Hanging on the walls were--what appeared to be punishment implements of various sorts. Each one had--a bow or ribbon of some sort, and a tag attached. She was strapped to some type of frame, somewhat circular, with hinges, and what appeared to be crank handles attached in a few places. It also had a bow and tag on it. He waved his hand indicating the structure. "It's wonderful, isn't it? It's a wedding present from your father. He had it made specially for us; we'll have to remember to tell him how much we've enjoyed it," he said with a wink. He reached over to the wall and chose a flogger, well-crafted, with soft leather straps and a comfortable grip, and looked at the tag. "This is from Lord *****, wasn't that nice of him?" She had no opportunity to reply, as her new husband-Master brought the soft straps down, WHAP! directly across her small, high, teen-girl breasts. "OOO!" she cried out, and "OOO-OOO-OOO! Oh, Master, please!" as he flogged her repeatedly across her top, leaving a fetching pattern of interlaced faint red lines on the tops and undersides, and directly across her nipples. He paused for a moment and grabbed a crank handle, rotating it clockwise. The frame bent on hinges, bringing her legs up until she was bent at over a 90-degree angle, her ankles nearly over her head, still spread apart. Her vulva was fully exposed. He whipped her across her buttocks and her cleft repeatedly with the flogger, WHAP-WHAP-WHAP! "AIEEE! AAAH-AAAH-AAAH!! OHMASTERPLEASEI'LLBEGOODI'LLBEGOODI'LLBEGOOD!" she nearly wailed as he reddened her intimately. He tossed the flogger onto the couch and seized her girlhood as she gasped. He squeezed and pinched the lips of her vulva, then probed into her, pressing against her maidenhead as she cried out, "AH!" She was wet, and her hips rocked as he molested her, pressing her quim against his hand as he rubbed her clitoris excruciatingly against her pubic bone. He spanked the teenaged girl directly on her maidenhood, SMACK-SMACK-SMACK! and she nearly screamed as she orgasmed, "AAAAAA! OH MASTER PLEASE! AAAAAA!" He caressed her lovingly as her orgasm subsided, wiping her tears with a soft cloth, kissing her tenderly. Then: "We're not done yet, you know," he announced, and went to the crank handles. As he turned them she was rotated until she was face down, her bottom higher than her head, her anus now perfectly positioned for punishment. He selected a finely-made riding crop off the wall, inlaid with silver cunningly filigreed on the handle, the young man's initials embossed on the end. He read the tag. "Darling, do you know who this is from?! Do you remember that unassuming man, a little shorter than me, very polite, in the receiving line? Balding, big smile, he was wearing a bowtie, I think? That was the Chief Justice of the Five Provinces! I never dreamed he would come, but I guess I should have known. Your father is--well he's got to be the finest man I know, and justly famous, although he never puts himself forward, so it's no surprise I suppose that prominent people came to his only daughter's wedding! We'll have to remember to send the Chief Justice a thank-you note," he added absent-mindedly, as he swung the crop back and forth through the air SWISH-SWISH, testing it. Then SWISH-SMACK! he brought it down sharply, but not too hard, directly onto the teenage girl's anus as she yelped, "OH! OH! OH!" He moved around towards her front and smacked her breasts back and forth as they hung down, SWAP-SWAP-SWAP! "AAH! AAH! AAH!" she cried. Her husband-Master was about to place the crop down on a nearby chair. He paused for a moment and looked more closely at the implement. "Darling, do you know what? I think this was designed to be able to--" he broke off, grabbed a small jar off an end table, and smeared some of the contents on the handle of the crop. Stepping over to his teenaged slave-wife, he thrust it unceremoniously into her anus as she yelled inarticulately, "AAIIEE!" then panted and moaned hoarsely as he worked it in and out, essentially raping her bottomflower and rectum thoroughly with the elegant tool. With his off hand he casually molested her cleftlips and clitoris, occasionally giving them a sharp spank as she yelped. After a bit of that pleasing (for him) and stimulating and punishing (for her) past-time, he finally pulled it out of her abruptly, making her gasp, and put it aside. By now his rod was straining at his pants, and he could hold back no longer. He rotated the frame, now putting her in a prone position, her mouth positioned at waist high. He undid his breeches and his manhood sprang out, rampant. "Service me, slavegirl!" he commanded, and thrust into her mouth, as the teenage girl opened her mouth wide to receive him, sucking and licking, bobbing her head up and down as much as she could. He groaned with pleasure as he held the sides of her head and worked his tool in and out. Finally he spent himself with a shout as she spluttered, trying to swallow it, but letting some dribble out of her lips. He withdrew and grabbed a cloth, tenderly wiping her mouth, then his own organ. Then he rotated her until she was standing up again, and spent some time caressing her face, kissing and kissing her, running his hands up and down her slender teenage body. He stepped over to the implements hanging on the wall, and selected a bundle of cords. He looked at the tag. "Now these are from Sir *****," he said, "You remember him: he's the one your father sent my mother to last month to help him set up that mission for the migrant farmworkers. Such a friendly man," he finished as he ran the cords through his fingers. "Now these I think are for something like this," he mused, as he looped one of them around her right breast, then pulled it tighter and tighter, then tied it off. He did same with her other breast. Now the teenage girl's breasts were in bondage, the cords pulled in at the base of each, the surface of them slowly darkening with engorgement. She moaned and whined. "What else do we have--" he mused out loud, searching the items on the hooks on the wall. "This looks like just the thing!" he announced. He brought over a set of what appeared to be clips of some sort. He examined them more closely; attached to the tag was a small pamphlet. "All the way from the Orient! How generous of the Mayor! Look, darling," and he held the pamphlet where she could see it. Hand-drawn figures depicted the usage of each item. "These appear to be for the nipples," he said as he compared the components to the instructions, and snapped one clip on each as she cried out. "So these must be--Ah, yes, I see, how clever!" he exclaimed, and he snapped another pair of clips, one on each of her cleftlips, and the last directly on her clitoris, leaving her panting and gasping. "And this attaches to all of them--" he thought out loud, threading a slender cord through loops on each of the clips. "Now let's see--" He cranked her around until she was prone again. "I wondered what these were for, but it's obvious now," he said, as he began to hang the small weights that came with the clips, one at a time hooking them onto the cord. "MMM! MMM! MMM!" the girl moaned as she felt the clips pinching and pulling on her nipples, cleftlips, and clitoris. Her husband-Master by now was idly stroking his rod, stiffening again despite having recently spent himself, his youth and vigor responding to the intensely pleasurable stimulation of having his darling beautiful teenage slave-wife submitted to him for sexual discipline. "Now I think you had better service me again, little slavegirl," he commanded. "Open up." She did so, continuing to moan around his shaft that stretched her lips as he thrust in and out of her mouth vigorously but not too far. When he was wet and fully hard he reached underneath her and grasped the cord, pulling all the clips off her at once as he withdrew from her mouth. "YAAAH!" she yelped, then panted and moaned. He quickly moved behind her and positioned his rod at her cleft. He took her from behind, lubricated by her own spit, thrusting hard, driving for her cervix with one stroke, raping his teenage slavegirl-wife of her maidenhead as she cried out wildly. He stayed buried within her, stroking her back, murmuring of his love for her as she sobbed briefly, then subsided to trembles and whimpers. He commenced to ravish her in earnest: long, hard strokes that made her shake and moan. Having spent himself within her once all ready, he was able to prolong his pleasure, and soon she was reacting, her hips rocking as she felt his manhood press against her clitoris. Her moans became cries, and in a few moments he was treated to the sight, sound, and feel of his beautiful teenage slavegirl-wife orgasming again as he ravished her, writhing on the end of his rod. After a few more minutes of satisfying himself within her cleft, he pulled out abruptly, and thrust hard into her rectum, taking the virginity of her anus as she yelled, "AAAAA!" Now lubricated by her own vaginal juices and virginal blood, he violated her deeply, slaking his lust in her bottomflower, until finally he deigned to once more empty himself within her with a groan and a sigh, grinding his pelvis against hers. He slipped out of her and once more cleaned her gently with a cloth, then cranked her upright again. He undid her breast bondage as she moaned, then rubbed them soothingly, kissing them, caressing them as she whimpered. He loosed her bonds and caught her as she slumped, exhausted and spent. He cradled her tenderly in his arms and she nestled into him with a dreamy sigh. He carried her into the next room, which had a large bed and other bedroom furnishings, and laid her gently upon it. "Is--is she still here?" the girl shyly asked. "Is who here?" he replied, though he thought he knew. "Your mother, silly!" she replied with a pixie pout. "Yes, she is. She's in the next room." "C--can I see her? Master?" she asked, with a pretty pout on her teenage girl's face. "Of course you may, darling slavegirl," he replied, and went to the door and opened it. "She's asking for you," he called softly, and the seamstress quickly entered. She went to the girl lying on the bed. "Mother!" the Master's daughter cried out. "My darling girl!" the seamstress exclaimed softly as the teenager reached for her and they embraced. As they hugged she whispered in the girl's ear, "So. Did you like your--wedding gifts?" The end By cc All comments wildly welcomed!