The Flag Maker

The Flag Maker
by Don Martin
The Flag Maker by Don Martin
A True Story Of Going For A Social Drink After Work With A Friend And A Meeting With A Girl Who Made Flags.
Don Martin

It was late on Friday afternoon and I had finished my business in the City so I popped in to see my friend Peter who ran a small design studio in a converted terrace house near Central Railway. “Come on through.” he called out from the back room when he saw me arrive.  “Great timing, we’ve just knocked the top off a bottle of Scotch.”  

In the room were Peter, his business partner Liza, one of his customers a man with a short trimmed beard probably in his fifties who introduced himself as Mike and a couple of girls.  

“You haven’t met Marianne and Eva from next door have you.”  Peter said as he handed me a glass.  I later found out that the two girls had quite a thriving business making flags and bunting and lived in the flat over their workshop.

Marianne intrigued me; she was a big lump of a red head; about 5ft 8 and I would guess that she weighed in at about 180 pounds.  Her appearance was quite striking in a full-length very dark purple velvet dress with her lipstick and nails the same colour.  Eva on the other hand was probably a couple of years older, had a trim figure and long blonde hair that tumbled over her shoulders. I couldn’t help admiring her pert ass and the rounded globes that threatened to burst over the top of her flared-skirted mini dress.  There was no doubting who was the butch one of this pair.

Peter apologised that he had to throw us out early as he was going away for the weekend.  As we were about to leave Marianne suggested that all we go next door and have a drink at their place.  Lisa and Mike both declined the offer as they both had other things planned for the night. As I had nothing organised I said I’d go just for one drink, as I still had to drive home. So it was that I found myself in their small and rather cluttered lounge room enjoying a cold beer and chatting to the girls about everything from making flags to the local disco scene. Eventually the conversation got round, as always, to sex and the fetishes that turn people on.  I admitted that bondage was a turn on for me.  This brought an immediate response from both of the girls.  

“We’ve been into BDSM for several years and I’m surprised that we haven’t seen you at the Hellfire Club or taking part in one of the other scenes round town,” said Marianne.  “You should take a look at our little dungeon in the attic before you go,” she continued,  “You’re welcome to try on some of our gear if you like.” 

At this point Eva butted in, “I can’t stay to join in the fun as I promised Cassie that I’d go over to her place tonight to help with her costume for the Sleaze Ball.”   She looked at her watch,  “Is that the time?  I’m running late.  I’d better be going.”   With that Eva, knocked back the last of her drink then got up and went into the bedroom to fix her make up, collect her coat and her handbag.  As she reached the top of the stairs she paused to call out, “Be good you two, don’t do anything that I wouldn’t like done to me!”

“Finish your drink, I’ll show you our dungeon.”   Marianne led the way up the narrow staircase.  The attic was larger than I imagined although the roofline sloping down almost to the floor made much of the space unusable.  There were a couple of windows at the back from which there was a great view over the city skyline.  A double bed with an old brass bedstead stood in front of the windows.   At the other end of the attic there was a large chest, a table with some bondage gear laying on it (I was to find out later that there was more in the chest).

“Come on, let’s get started, no point in wasting valuable time.  Get you clothes off - all of them.  Get a move on - or do you want me to take them off for you?”   

I was a bit taken by surprise at the sudden commanding tone of Marianne’s voice.   

“Well, you want me to tie you up, don’t you?” she continued.  

I mumbled something like “Well, I don’t know … um…er…”  I just wasn’t prepared for this.  

“Come on, make up your mind, do you or don’t you?” Marianne asked eying me up and down.  

“OK,” I nodded, “I wasn’t going anywhere this evening.” 

“I’m glad that’s settled.  Now strip.”  She was already picking out the bondage gear she wanted.   As soon as I had stripped off she came over and ordered me to put out my hands.  I put them out in front of me and she buckled both of them into leather bondage mitts.  “Now put them behind you,” was her next command.  She went round behind me and, lifting my wrists so that my forearms were lying side-by-side, wrapped a heavy leather sleeve round them, fixing it into place by tightening the three roller buckles along its length.  My forearms were now clamped together with my mitt- encased hands sticking out helplessly on either side. Just to make sure that I could not work my way out of the sleeve she slipped a short leather strap through the D-ring on each wrist and buckled it round my arm just above the elbow. 

“OK, now lift up your chin.”  Was her next command.   She buckled a 2-inch leather collar round my neck. “That’ll do for a start.”  Her hand grabbed my balls.  

“God, your hands are freezing.”  I gasped as she cupped them with one hand, her other one squeezing my cock.  

“So you’re a noisy one,” she said as I gasped again.  “We’ll soon stop that.”  She lifted her skirt and pulled down her panties.  “Open up,” she ordered as she rolled them into a ball and stuffed them into my mouth.  “Now you keep them there while I find something to fix your gag more securely.”  She found a roll of surgical tape and started to wind this round and round the lower part of my head until my mouth was sealed. 

She walked to the other end of the attic and came back with a pair of ankle cuffs and a spreader bar.  She buckled the cuffs tightly round my ankles.  “Now spread your legs,” was her next command.  “Further than that.”  Finally I got them far enough apart for her to fix the spreader between my ankles.

“We can’t have that thing sticking out all night, can we?” was Marianne’s comment when she stood up and saw that my cock was now rock hard.  She went downstairs and got some ice from the fridge.  While she was away I struggled to free myself from my bonds but my efforts were in vain.  

“Oh, I’m glad you’re still here,” she said on her return.  “Try keeping a hard on with this lot on that great fat dick of yours!” she said with a grin as she slapped the ice on it.   “Now we’d better stop that ugly looking monster from sticking up again,” she said as it went limp.  

It was not long before she had it tightly laced in a cock harness with one end anchored to a narrow leather strap buckled round the top of my balls and the other end pulled up and tied to a leather belt she had put round my waist.  

“As you seem to like it hot, let’s see how you like this.”  She opened a bottle of Tabasco sauce that she had also brought up from the kitchen and massaged a large helping into my scrotum and on to the tip of my cock.  She put some more in a little leather pouch into which she squeezed my balls before tying it into place.   At first there was no sensation of heat, but after only a few minutes I thought my balls and cock were going the burst into flames.  The burning feeling was almost more than I could stand. 

“For getting a hard on without permission you’ll have to be punished.”  (As if the Tabasco sauce was not punishment enough).  She clipped a leash on to my collar and led me over to the table.  It was hard keeping up with her with my feet held wide apart but I managed to get the 6 feet to the table without falling over.  She went round the other side of the table and pulled on the leash until I was bent over the tabletop with my chin hard against the opposite edge.   Then she pulled the leash under the table and tied it to the spreader bar.  A simple tie, but I was helplessly held with my butt fully exposed for the punishment that I knew would follow.  

It was not long before the sharp slap of the first whack of a studded leather paddle stung my backside.  Then another and another – I soon lost count.  My balls were still burning and now my ass was being warmed up too.  There was a pause, but not for long – it was only for her to change weapons.  This time I felt the soft caress of the cat-o-nine-tails across one cheek then the other, then up the inside of my thighs.  The tip of the handle probed my asshole before a stinging crack seared my ass.  Six, seven, eight strokes, then some more.  She paused again.  

“What now?” I thought. But this time it was not to be another whip but rather some of the ice she had brought in.  It was only when she was satisfied that she had cooled my ass down enough that I felt the crack of another lash – this time a cane was her weapon of choice.  My ass must have been cherry red all over and was stinging almost as much as my balls were.

“We’d better clean you up now, then it’s your turn to pleasure me.”  She turned and left the room with me still spread across the table.  It was some time before she returned.  When she did she was carrying a large and very full enema bag with a long and sinister-looking pipe dangling from the bottom.  Her finger probed my ass and then she eased the nozzle in.  When it was deep inside me she lifted the bag up above her head and opened the valve.  Warm soapy water started the flow into me.  She squeezed the bag; the water squirted into me even faster that before.  She squeezed it again and again.  Her arm must have begun to ache from holding the bag in the air for after a while she hung it from a hook in the ceiling. I felt that my stomach was about to burst but still the water trickled in.  She again left the room – I’m not sure where she went.  Five to ten minutes passed before she returned.  

“Come on, let’s get that pipe out.”  She eased the nozzle out of me.  “Spill any on the floor before you get to the bathroom and you’ll come back and lick every drop up with your tongue before I release you.”  She undid the leash, removed the spreader bar and I stood up.  With the cheeks of my ass clenched as tightly as it was very difficult getting down the narrow staircase and into the bathroom.  But finally I made it.  What a relief as what seemed like an endless stream flowed out of me.   I was still sitting on the toilet when she came into the bathroom.  

“Come on, move you ass, unless you want another dose.  I’ve got another job for you.”  I stood up.  She sort of hosed down my ass to make sure I was clean and then, picking up the leash, led me back upstairs to the attic. 

“I suppose your balls have cooled down by now – I’d better give them another dose.”  She removed the leather pouch repeated the Tabasco sauce treatment.   Next she tied the leash to a ring set into the wall – I was tethered like a horse outside a bar in a Wild West movie while she tidied up some of the stuff lying around the room.  “Follow me.” She tugged on the leash and led me towards the double bed.  “Now kneel,” she ordered, “and sit back on your haunches.” No sooner had I done this than she buckled a leather strap round first my right thigh and calf, then repeated the dose with another strap my left leg.  I think the spreader bar was more comfortable.

“You’ll need a better gag than that to do what you’re going to do next.”  The tape stung my face as she roughly pulled it off.  She replaced the panties in my mouth with a 2inch-ball gag.  Well it had a 2in.plug on my side, but on the other side there was a large life-like black penis.  The 2in. plug completely filled my mouth and the penis stuck rigidly out in front.  She sat on the edge of the bed, spread her legs and lifted her velvet skirt and her dark blue satin petticoat.  Grey stockings reached halfway up her massive creamy-white thighs - white suspenders joined them to a well-boned corset.  She wore no panties since she had used them to gag me.  There, framed in a mat of curly black hair, was her sex-box.  Hot, wet, threatening and, with me bound like this, totally out of reach.   Her hands caressed her ample breasts.  Then one hand moved down and started to fondle her pussy.  

For a while she seemed quite oblivious of my presence.  Her fingers probed deeper.  After a while she tugged on the leash and pulled me closer.  She lubricated the gag penis with her juices.  She continued to pleasure herself, lubricating the shaft some more and wiping her fingers around my nose and across my face. The smell of her sex filled my nostrils.  She was moaning with pleasure now and making little squealing noises of sheer delight as she continued to masturbate.  Then she stopped and grabbed my hair with her still moist hand.  With her other hand she eased the head of the penis into her waiting pussy.  Slowly, inch-by-inch, it slid further in until my face was buried in her pubic hair.  The tip of my nose pressed against her clit.  Her firm hands held my head, first pressed hard into her box and then rocking it back and forth so that the full length of the shaft slid in and out of her.  She paused, closed those full creamy thighs tightly about my ears and crossed her legs behind my back.  She pulled down her skirt.  It was dark, hot and damp between her thighs – I was gasping for breath. If she didn’t relax soon I would suffocate.  Every laboured breath filled my lungs with more of her scent.  

After what seemed like an eternity she relaxed her grip on my head and opened her thighs a little.  I pulled my head back as much as she would let me and gulped in as much air as my gag would allow.  The respite was only short as she soon started thrusting my head back and forth fucking herself again.  Faster and faster; now her body was also thrusting back against my face.  Another pause and more suffocating darkness.  My face was now wet with sweat and her juices.  Then she started pushing my head back and forth once more.  Another short pause and then her thighs parted and my head was being violently thumped into her sex.  Faster and faster the black shaft was sliding in and out.  At last she slowed as she reached a shuddering climax.  Her thighs again gripped on my head.  Her hands still held my head with the penis deep inside her.  My nose was again buried against her clit.  My head was soaked with a cocktail of our sweat and her juices.  My calves and knees ached from being held in that uncomfortable kneeling position for so long.   Four or five minutes, maybe more, passed before she repeated the whole exercise.  

At last she lifted her skirts, pulled my head back and gently eased the dripping shaft out.  “Ooh, that was nice.  You’ve done a good job.  For that I may release you – but first let me unwind.”  She wiped her hands on my hair before lying back on the bed.   She lay there flat on her back with her knees raised, her hands still holding and occasionally rubbing her sex piece. After a few minutes she dropped off to sleep.  I tried to move closer to the bed to thump it as hard as my bonds would let me but I toppled over on my side in the attempt.  With my calves strapped tight against my thighs I couldn’t get up again and, although I eventually manoeuvred closer to the bed, I was unable to make enough impact on it to wake her up.

It must have been an hour or more before she roused.  “Oh, you haven’t gone home!” she exclaimed as if surprised.  “Just a minute, I’ve got to go to the bathroom. Don’t go away.”  With that she left the room.  When she finally returned she had taken off her clothes and had put on a white towelling wrap that she had loosely tied round her waist.  “Come on, it’s late, you must be tired and it’s pouring with rain outside so you’d better sleep here for the night.  So let’s get you ready for bed.”  She undid the straps on my legs. “You’d better give those legs a stretch to get the circulation going. But for falling over without permission you’ll have to be punished again.” I was half expecting another whipping and was surprised when she went on:  “For that misdemeanour I’m not going to release your arms and you’ll have to wear this for the rest of the night.” 

Before I could get to my feet she stuffed plugs into my ears, pulled a full leather helmet over my head and started to lace up the back.  At least there were holes for the eyes so I was going to be able to see want was happening.  But the penis gag was still in place and this she pushed through the hole for the mouth.  She removed the collar and put it back on, this time over the outside on the bottom of the helmet.  I’m sure that she buckled it one notch tighter this time – but it was probably only the extra thickness of the hood that made it feel tighter. 

“Come on, bed time,” she announce when she had finished buckling the collar.  She picked up the end of the leash and led me to the double bed.  “You can sleep there.”  She tied the leash to the bed head: “That’s so you won’t wander about in the night and maybe rape us poor girls.” She said with a wicked grin. She stood back to admire her work. “Oh, if I leave you like that, if you might roll out of bed and strangle yourself - I’d better do something about it.”  

She fetched a couple of lengths of rope and used them to tie my ankles to the bedposts.  “There’s just one more thing – it’s not very dark in here with the street lights and the passing traffic – they may keep you awake so I’d better blindfold you.”  She fetched a padded blindfold that attached to the helmet.  She knelt on the side of the bed; her full breasts hanging tantalisingly just in front of my face, as she fixed the blindfold.  

“You’ll be more comfortable like that.  Night, night – see you in the morning.”  

I heard the click of the light switch as she set off downstairs.  As I wasn’t going to be released until morning I thought that I’d better make myself as comfortable as possible.  Virtually unable to move, I found it difficult to get to sleep.  Marianne had not gone to bed but went into the lounge and, from the sounds I could hear, was watching a video until Eva returned.   I heard them taking for a while but with my ears plugged I couldn’t make out what they were saying.  Eventually, the house became quiet and at last I dropped off to sleep. 

Freedom At Last – In A way

I was woken by the sound of voices somewhere in the room.  “I think he’s waking up at last.  You must have exhausted him last night.”  It was Eva’s voice.  

“He must be bursting for a pee,” I heard Marianne say.  “You can give me a hand to release him.”  

Free at last, I sat on the edge of the bed and blinked at the bright sunlight now streaming through the window.  

“What time is it?” I asked.  

I was amazed when Marianne told me that it was one o’clock.  “Go and have a shower and clean up, we’ll have lunch ready in five minutes….and don’t be late or you’ll get punished all over again.”  

The hot shower was sheer bliss.  I towelled myself dry and went back to into the attic to find my clothes.  They were nowhere to be seen.   Then I looked out of the window and saw them flapping from the clothesline.  I went downstairs and asked Marianne to go and get them for me.  

“No way – they’ve only just been hung out and they’re still soaking wet,” was her reply.  “You’ll just have to wait until they dry – let’s hope it doesn’t rain.”  

Eva had cooked an omelette – it smelled good.  She beckoned me over to the table. “Sit down and have a piece of this – you don’t need clothes on to eat – and it’s warm in here.  Do you want some Tabasco sauce on yours?”  Marianne smiled as she passed over the bottle.
 
 
 
 

22.11.04