PARKER1.TXT
DEAR DIARY
By Parker
an210088@anon.penet.fi
WARNING: This story contains bondage, S/M, non-consensual
intercourse, D/S and all that sort of good stuff. If you do
not want to read this kind of material, it would be best if
you stopped now. I mean it. This story is NOT POLITICALLY
CORRECT (although, I hope that it is grammatically correct).
Copyright 1993 by Parker (me). Feel free to distribute
this story as you wish, but be discreet. Obviously, it
is not suitable for all BBSs.
=================================================================
MAY 22
Dear Diary,
The most extraordinary thing happened this morning. I was out in the
garden doing some pruning (the garden is going to look so good this year - the
roses should be marvellous) when two girls wandered into the yard, wearing
large rucksacks on their backs. I say girls, but really they were proper young
women; they grow up so quickly these days. The oldest looked to be in her
mid-twenties and the younger perhaps eighteen or nineteen years of age.
Certainly too old to be traipsing about in the fields as they were.
Brazen as a pair of young turks, the pair wandered up to me and - without
so much as an introduction - demanded to use my telephone. Well! The reason for
their lack of manners was immediately evident: Americans! I had never actually
visited their horrid country, being perfectly content on the Braemor estate
(although I must, to be honest, confess a fondness for our dear little flat in
London), but Nigel had been there a number of times on business and had gone on
at great length regarding our former colonials. In fact, he was there right
now, obliged by business to leave the estate.
Well, right then and there I determined that these girls must be taught
some manners. Besides, things were so quiet on the estate with Nigel away; it
would provide a spot of fun if nothing else.
"What brings you to Scotland?" I asked, leading the two American girls
through the rear entrance, past the pantry and into the servant's kitchen.
The older one - her name was Karen (she had finally introduced herself;
the younger one was named Jennifer) - explained that they had been on a camping
tour of the Highlands when they had become separated from their party while on
a ramble through the countryside. Apparently, they had been wandering, lost,
for most of the afternoon. They had absolutely no idea where they were.
Poor dears.
I bade them sit down at the small table in the servant's kitchen while I
arranged for a cup of tea. I suppose that it was rude to keep guests in the
servant's quarters, but really, I didn't feel that they were worthy to enter
the house proper. Nigel says that I am a terrible snob about things like that,
but that is the way I feel.
They didn't seem to notice.
I went through into the dining room and rang for Darcy. He is such a
treasure; never even batted an eyelash when I asked him to dissolve half a
dozen of Nigel's sleeping tablets into the tea. As usual, he was the perfect
servant, bringing the pot in and carefully pouring out three cups.
I was most cunning, pretending to drink my tea while the girls, evidently
thirsty from their extended ramble, quickly polished off the pot. Within
minutes both were groggy and they soon fell to sleeping, heads resting on the
table.
I gave Darcy some instructions and he carried the girls upstairs to the
spare bedrooms to prepare them while I went through their rucksacks.
LATER...
The older girl is named Karen Jenson. According to her driver's licence,
she comes from a town named Point Hope in California. Her friend is also from
California. I might have guessed; they both have deep, rich tans. Very unusual
for this part of the world, as the weather in the highlands is cloudy more
often than not. Well, I expect that the tans will fade quickly enough over the
next few months.
In Karen's picture, her blonde hair is long and straight, but she has
since cut it quite severely short. Silly bint; it looks so much more feminine
when it is longer. She shall have to grow it out again. She is twenty-five
years old. Her licence puts her height at 5'9" and weight at 110 lbs (I wonder
what that is in stone?). Darcy, after preparing our "guests" in the upstairs
bedrooms, ventured the opinion that she is an athlete or some sort of dancer.
He dropped off the girls' clothing (utterly horrible; I ordered him to burn the
repulsive apparel in the garden) and a large engagement ring he said came off
Karen's left hand. Rather ostentatious, I thought, but then they are American.
I told him to toss the gaudy thing into the pond at the back of the garden; our
Karen won't be needing it anymore.
The younger one - Jennifer Blackstone - also comes from California, but
from a different town: Bakersville. She has curly brown hair which falls in
waves down to her shoulders. I must say, I approve of her hair style much more
than that of her older friend. Jennifer is twenty years old (oh la... and I had
guessed eighteen or nineteen); she is shorter than her friend - 5'4" - and
weighs 105 lbs. No engagement ring from her, so I assume that she is
unattached. Perhaps this is rash of me; with young women today, the niceties of
a formal engagement are often disregarded. Still, I prefer to think the best of
people. It is one of my failings.
Darcy has just informed me that their effects have been disposed of as I
ordered. It is time, I think, to look in on my new charges.
LATER...
They were still sleeping when I looked in and showed every sign of
continuing to do so for some time. Perhaps we overdid it with the sleeping
pills. No matter; they will awaken soon enough.
Darcy has done a brilliant job of preparation. They have both been
stripped naked and are chained, spreadeagled, on separate beds in separate
bedrooms. After one glance at Karen's nude body, I can see where he formed his
opinion of our Karen's profession.
Darcy has put the various artifacts of Nigel's ill-fated (and, I should
add, much warned against) venture into the field of dog breeding to good use.
Each girl wears a leather dog collar at her throat, and has each limb fastened
to a corner of a bed by a modified collar connected to a lead chain.
Darcy is so good at this sort of thing. The sight of the girls gives me a
number of new ideas regarding possible uses for Nigel's discarded equipment. I
made a few suggestions to Darcy and he got right to work making the necessary
modifications. I do hope Nigel won't mind.
We may even get some use out of those old kennels of his.
I must say, the sight of the two girls gave me a rather naughty idea of my
own. I blush to write this, but if I cannot be honest with myself, with whom
may I do so? I often become quite lonely when Nigel is away for protracted
periods of time on his business trips. He is a very understanding man, and, on
our last trip to London, we went on an excursion to some shops in Soho to
purchase a few (this is a little embarrassing) sex aids.
They are such a comfort when Nigel is away.
I decided to try them out on the girls. Karen got the pink vibrator; the
big one. Well, she is - or was - engaged, and doubtless has more than a little
experience. (A girl of her sort always does.) I had to grease it up somewhat to
get it into her, but in it went, like a rabbit down a hole. I set the timer to
run at two minutes on and three minutes off and then turned on the power. It
immediately began buzzing from within the girl's... (I really don't know the
right word to use here) "thingy". She moaned and tossed her head a bit, but
didn't wake.
For Jennifer, I thought something a little smaller was in order, but I
basically set it up the same way and left it turned on. The delicious buzzing
sound was clearly audible in the dark as I closed the door.
I am so looking forward to tomorrow.
MAY 23
Dear Diary,
Mixed news, I'm afraid. As I suspected, the older one is causing some
difficulty. She struggles ceaselessly, and refuses to co-operate in any way.
Why, I was forced to...
Ahh, perhaps I get ahead of myself. I'll relate events as they occurred.
One must be properly organised, even in one's diary.
I checked in on young Jennifer first thing the next morning. She looked so
delicious, tied there on the bed, squirming madly as my little friend buzzed
happily away inside her. Her body, well-formed although not as sleek and
muscular as that of her older friend, was covered with a fine sheen of
perspiration.
When I reached down to remove the vibrator, she was slick and wet; she had
obviously been enjoying herself. Well really, I thought, and such a young girl.
I was tempted to become rather cross with her, but she has such lovely,
pleading brown eyes that I just could not be angry with her. She is such a
dear. And perhaps I was at least partially to blame for her behaviour. As I
said, I like to think the best of people.
Gently, not wanting to frighten her, I brushed her curly hair from her
face and removed the gag (I should mention here that Darcy had once again done
a marvellous job at converting some of Nigel's sports equipment, this time into
a wonderful little ball gag).
"Please."
Her voice was a hoarse whisper. I brought a cup up to her parched lips and
gave her a sip of my tea. She swallowed gratefully and then looked up at me.
"Please," she whispered. "Where am I?"
She had a soft, lovely voice, marred only by her harsh American accent.
"In Scotland, my dear," I answered. "You are on my estate just outside
Braemar."
She looked around, puzzled. Almost absentmindedly, she began to struggle
against her binding.
"Who are you? What am I doing here." Then, an afterthought. "Where's
Karen?"
"Your friend is in another room," I told her. "My name is unimportant. You
must refer to me as (I thought this was a clever bit) 'Mistress'. You work for
me now."
"Mistress?"
She seemed more curious than frightened at first, but then tears welled
up in her big brown eyes and she began to sob. Poor thing; it will be a shock
at first.
I replaced Darcy's wonderful gag, snapping shut the clips on the leather
strap. Jennifer looked up at me, moaning through her tears, but I was not
moved. One cannot show weakness before the help.
Before I left, I replaced the vibrator. She struggled and shook her head,
but I could tell that she liked it. Quite delightful.
Unfortunately I cannot report the same regarding Karen, the older girl.
When I entered her room, she immediately began to thrash about on the bed,
screaming abuse at me from behind her gag, using the most shocking language!
Imagine. As well, she had managed to expel my little friend from within her; it
lay buzzing uselessly on the bed in between her spreadeagled legs.
Well, I tried to calm her down. I sat next to her on the bed and whispered
soothing words to her while stroking her forehead, but it was no use. She just
glared her hatred up at me with her beady little green eyes. Goodness only
knows what would have happened if I had removed the gag.
What could I do?
In the end, I resolved to give her more time with the vibrator. In order
to make certain she didn't expel it again, I called Darcy in and he managed -
quite ingeniously - to rig a makeshift harness using some of Nigel's old lead
chains. One length went around the thin waste of that hateful girl, and
another, this one clipped onto the vibrator, went under her crotch and was
attached at the front and back. She screamed and thrashed about like a child,
but the intruder remained within her.
Now, perhaps, she will learn some manners.
MAY 28
Dear Diary,
What a busy time we have had of it these last few days! Who would ever
have imagined that training new help would prove so time consuming? I'm afraid
that I have been a little delinquent in keeping up these entries, but I will
try to make up for it now. Jennifer has been coming along nicely. After two
days on the bed with her little friend, she became most co-operative. I am now
convinced that she is a most sensible young lady. I confess to being a little
surprised at this; I had expected all Americans to be loud and boorish (like
Karen - more on her later). I suspect that I will have to reconsider my opinion
on this matter.
I brought Darcy with me when we released her from the bed. He clipped a
leash to her throat collar, and then undid the ankle and wrist fastenings.
Jennifer just brought her hands together and tried to cover her small breasts
as best she could. Delightful!
"Jennifer," I said, trying to keep a firm tone with her, "modesty is
becoming in a young lady of position, but is somewhat anachronistic in a
servant."
She sniffed as if about to cry, but then slowly moved her hands away from
her breasts.
"That's better," I nodded approvingly. "Now, are you hungry young lady?"
She nodded. "Y-yes... mistress."
She remembered! What a clever girl.
"Well then," I told her, "You'd best go with Darcy. He will feed you and
set out your duties."
Her eyes widened at this, but she obeyed immediately, moving slowly and
stiffly to her feet. Darcy tugged on the leash and she began to follow.
"One moment, my dear," I interjected. "Are you not forgetting something."
She looked over at me, obviously puzzled.
"Your little friend," I explained, pointed at her crotch. "Perhaps you
should remove it."
Blushing, she reached down and slowly pulled the vibrator from her...
(well, I suppose I may as well say it) pussy. It was slick and wet.
"Ah," I said, "You got on alright, then?"
If possible, she flushed an even brighter shade of red, dropping her eyes
and nodding hesitantly. She turned away to follow Darcy, but I grasped her chin
in my hand and forced her to look me in the eye.
"Young lady, when I ask you a question, I expect you to look at me and
answer it. Do I make myself understood?" It is best to be firm in the
beginning; it saves so much trouble later on.
"Y-yes mistress," she stammered.
"Well then, did you get on alright with your little friend?"
"Yes mistress... I l-liked having it... inside me." She flushed again, but
didn't drop her gaze. A tear trickled down one cheek.
I brushed it away. I could become quite fond of this girl.
Darcy gave another tug on the leash and she followed him out of the room.
As before, Karen reacted violently to my presence.
This time, however, I removed the gag in order to give her something to
drink. She gulped thirstily at the cup of water, but when it was finished, she
began to scream at me.
"Who the fuck are you," she shrieked. "Why are you keeping me her, you
cunt?"
Well, really.
I tried to explain the situation to her, but she absolutely refused to
listen. She just continued to yell at me, all the while straining at her bonds.
A few moments later, Darcy entered the room and helped me replace the gag. It
was not easy and she even tried to bite me at one point, but we eventually
muddled through.
"Madam," Darcy spoke, puffing slightly from his exertions, "perhaps we
should attempt a more... forceful form of persuasion?"
He was, of course, referring the cane. Nigel kept one in his den as a
souvenir from his days as a schoolmaster.
I looked down at the wretched girl as she struggled on the bed. The
harness holding the vibrator in her pussy was still intact, but she showed
little signs of sexual excitement. The bed was wet, but my sense of smell told
me that it was not from arousal.
Well, I decided, there is nothing for it.
I nodded at Darcy.
"And bring Jennifer," I ordered. "She should see this."
Darcy left the room to fetch the cane. I looked back down at Karen. She
glared at me.
"You have no one to blame but yourself," I told her. "A little more effort
with your manners and none of this would be necessary." I feel that it is
important that one should explain a punishment before it occurs. It is so much
more effective if the subject is made aware of the reasons behind it.
Darcy re-entered the room, cane in one hand and Jennifer's leash in the
other. She stumbled in behind him. The darling young girl's eyes widened in
panic as she saw her older friend for the first time in days, but she said
nothing.
I left the room as Darcy began to lay down a pattern of stripes on the
wayward girl's tummy.
Jennifer came along quickly after that day.
I don't know how he managed it, but Darcy located a marvellous little
maid's uniform for her, all wisp and frills. It barely covered her naughty
bits. I must say, she looks quite darling in it.
We still keep her hobbled with short ankle chains while she works around
the house, but I really don't think it is necessary any longer. Still, better
safe than sorry.
Darcy did have to use the cane on her once, just the other day. It was his
suggestion - and a cracking good one at that - that young Jennifer be given
some lessons in how to please a man. Nigel will surely expect a certain amount
of this sort of skill in a domestic.
I agreed, but only gave him permission to use her mouth. Jennifer is no
virgin, but I am certain that Nigel will want to deal with her personally in
that fashion.
Jennifer was given her instructions, but refused to carry them out, even
when threatened with the cane. It was inevitable, I suppose. At any rate, it
took only a dozen smacks on her lovely backside before she tearfully changed
her mind.
Darcy, ever attentive to duty, now gives her this special training at
least two or three times a day. One can often hear him giving instruction in
his quiet, proper voice:
"There you are, young lady," he says, "take it all in... you
must suck it into the back of your throat while massaging
the underside with your tongue... That's it; you're doing
rather well now. Rather well. Now, open your throat and let
it slide down... breathe through your nose... there you go.
There is no need to panic. You should be able to feel my
balls resting against your chin..."
And so on. Darcy assures me that she is coming along splendidly.
Still no progress with Karen, despite the fact that Darcy has caned her on
three separate occasions now. I don't know what is to be done with her.
MAY 29
Dear Diary,
We had the most frightening thing occur today.
A police constable - Ned Smith from Braemar; I recognized him from the
last village fete (although he didn't seem to recognize me) - came by today
asking questions about two American girls who had gone missing in the area. He
was, of course, inquiring about Karen and Jennifer.
From my position at the door I could see both girls in the front living
room.
Jennifer was kneeling down in front of Darcy, dressed only in her maid's
uniform, her lovely mouth servicing Darcy's penis.
Karen was there too.
We had finally resolved to get her out of the guest bed, if only to allow
Jennifer a chance to change the sheets. The wretched girl was now bound up in a
stringent position by the ever-resourceful Darcy. Hands secured behind her
back, she was on her knees, bent over at the waist as the chain on her collar
had been clipped tightly to a ring in the floor. Her knees were pulled outward
by two elastic straps, forcing her to strain to keep her legs closed. If she
relaxed, her legs were pulled apart and her pussy was lowered onto a large
dildo (another of my "toys" from Soho) Darcy had fixed to the floor. Over the
past few hours, she had grunted and perspired, trying desperately to keep her
legs closed, but the straps inevitably won, inexorably sliding her further and
further down onto the dildo. After a while, she would seem to give up, and
allow herself to be completely impaled (imagine! the "toy" was ten inches
long), but then she would grunt in anger and squeeze herself up off the
intruder.
"Sorry to bother you mum," the Constable stated, "I was wondering if you
had seen either of these two girls around here?" He produced a picture of Karen
and Jennifer.
Well, he spoke with a thick, Scottish brogue, but it was not so thick that
the girls couldn't hear and understand him! Karen reacted first, grunting as
loud as she could from behind the gag and energetically banging her head and
shoulders on the floor. Jennifer moaned and tried to turn her head, but she was
constrained by Darcy, who quickly turned on Nigel's stereo. The sound of the
music easily covered up any noises the girls might make. I could still see them
struggling, but there was no way the Constable could hear them.
I pretended to examine the photograph.
"No," I said finally, "I can't say I have. Have they gone missing, then?"
"Aye," the Constable nodded. He took back the picture and placed it
carefully in his jacket pocket. In the living room, Jennifer was still trying
to pull away from Darcy's crotch, but he held her firm. He looked like he was
about to achieve his orgasm.
"They went missing about a week ago," the Constable continued. "From the
Loch Corivain area. They were camping with some friends and wandered off."
"Well," I said brightly, "they haven't turned up here. I'll ring you if I
come across them."
"Oh, aye," he nodded, turning away, "and we'd appreciate it, we would.
Cheers then."
The Constable walked slowly away down the path leading to the road. In the
living room, Darcy was obviously in the throes of an orgasm; Jennifer had
stopped struggling and was swallowing as quickly as she could. As Darcy had
said earlier, she was becoming well trained.
Karen, on the other hand, seemed to be going mad!
She was thrashing about in her constraints, crying and grunting as loudly
as she could. The dildo ran in and out of her dry pussy as she threw herself
back in forth trying to get free. Finally, she let out a loud cry and sank
forward, sobbing.
Then, a most disgusting thing occurred. With a loud fart (I blush even to
write the word), the horrible girl relaxed her bowels and began defecating and
urinating on the floor.
"Good lord!"
Darcy pushed Jennifer away from him, causing a long string of sperm to
stretch out from his penis to her mouth. Ignoring it, he pulled up his trousers
and strode across the room to where Karen continued to relieve herself.
I am ashamed to report that I could only watch in stunned silence, unable
to react. Really, though, it is not the sort of situation one could ever be
prepared for. Especially a lady such as myself.
Darcy reached down and began slapping the wretched girl on her backside.
"Stop it," he ordered, raising his voice. "Stop it this instant."
He continued to slap her as she stopped defecating and the stream of urine
slowed to a trickle. Finally, it stopped altogether, and Karen slumped down
into a pile of her own waste.
"You little animal!"
I could tell that Darcy was enraged. He didn't become angry very often,
but when he did, it was terrible to behold. It fell to him to keep the house
neat and tidy and it was a job he took seriously. I have seen him beat a maid
for failing to dust properly.
"If you can't control yourself," he continued, "perhaps you need to be
controlled."
He cast about, looking for something, and then picked up the feather
duster. Moving quickly, he reached down and began inserting the handle into
Karen's dirty bottom. The wretched girl began to moan again, but was unable to
stop him. When he was done, only about six inches of the handle stuck out of
her backside before the feathers spread out.
"Darcy!"
I finally regained control of my voice. He stiffened, bringing himself to
his full height and turned to face me. His face was flushed red.
"Madam?"
"Have you gone mad?"
I had expressly told him that he was not to use the girls in this manner.
That was for his master!
At his feet, Karen tried to expel the intruder by shaking her backside,
but only succeeded in waving it about. The sight looked strangely familiar.
"Madam?" he repeated.
I needed time to think.
"Jennifer," I turned away to look at our brown-haired little maid. She
remained where he had left her, on her knees with spots of sperm all over her
pretty chin. "Get yourself cleaned up and then see to the floor here. I expect
all sign of this unpleasant incident to be removed from the living room within
the hour."
"Yes mistress," she answered, getting awkwardly to her feet. Smoothing
down her skirt, she left the room, moving with the small, mincing steps
mandated by the chain hobble.
I turned back to Darcy.
He stood at attention, looking straight at me. Karen continued to shake
her backside, but with little luck. She had begun to make quiet yelping sounds,
almost like...
Then I had the most marvellous idea! Perhaps Darcy was right; she was a
little animal. And we already had one maid.
Perhaps we would get some use out of Nigel's kennels after all...
AUG 23
Dear Diary,
I am writing this entry while seated in Nigel's comfy chair in the
bedroom. My legs are spread wide on the ottoman and our Jennifer is diligently
performing her now-daily duties. Darcy has trained her well, and she is
exquisite.
She is no longer chained.
The little dear seems completely resigned to her new position in life as
our maid, and no longer demonstrates even the slightest hint of rebellion.
Well, that is not quite true. Every once in a while, either Darcy or I will
come upon her when she does not suspect it and we will catch her gazing out the
window, tears running down her face.
Ah well... young girls are so emotional.
LATER:
Jennifer has finished up between my legs and is now running my bath. Nigel
is coming home tomorrow, and I wish to look my best.
I hear a barking from the garden out back...
It was Darcy, continuing Karen's training. He tells me that it is going
quite well. As I watch through the bedroom window, he has her running through
the garden, fetching a stick and carrying it for him.
He has outdone himself with her.
She is naked, of course (Darcy boasts that she will never wear clothing
again), except for a set of thick pads on her knees and tight, fingerless
mittens on her hands. These items are never removed; Darcy has sewed them shut
and set a layer of glue over the stitching. Her mouth is kept open by an
"O"-shaped muzzle; she can still receive food and manipulate her tongue, but
she cannot bite down or speak in any way. Of course, Darcy will not let her
speak in any case. She is only permitted the sounds a dog would make: barking,
yelping and growling. Darcy says she has become quite proficient at the
growling.
Her arms and legs are secured by an ingenious set of chains and bars
which keep her on all fours at all times. As with the gloves, these are
permanently attached. She will never walk upright again.
Finally, the feather-duster has been replaced by a real dog tail. Darcy
has modified one of my dildos by adding on a long tuft of golden hair. He tried
so hard to get it to match her natural hair colour, but I don't think he has
succeeded. It is, however, the thought that counts. Our Karen is now able to
wag her tail quite convincingly. I am told that it is only removed when she
needs to defecate, which she indicates by whining in a certain manner.
Of course, she also wears her leather dog collar.
Darcy has worked wonders. She has become quite the little bitch. Darcy has
even been talking about purchasing a real dog - male of course - to keep her
company in her lonely kennel. I think that this is a marvellous idea, but I
will leave the final decision up to Nigel. I suspect that Nigel will feel the
same way I do.
Oh, Nigel. I really can't wait to show him the new additions to our
household.
The sound of the bathwater stops and Jennifer comes into the bedroom.
"Mistress," she says quietly, eyes downward, "your bath is ready." Her
beautiful brown hair falls enticingly across her flushed face.
Out in the garden, Karen has had her tail removed and is relieving herself
against a tree, one leg in the air.
Nigel will be so pleased...
THE END
================================================================
Review This Story || Email Author: Parker