The punishment of the lady who locked me in her basement
I took a good while to understand how I had ended up there. I was locked in that damp basement, with stained walls and heavy air, and no matter how I replayed the last few hours, I couldn’t find the exact moment when everything went wrong. I was the victim of that mature, voluptuous, and cruel woman, and the worst part of all was that deep down I knew I had brought it on myself.
My track record with women was long and miserable. I had cheated on them, deceived them, used them, and discarded them one after another. Marisol, Carla, that girl from the office whose name I didn’t even remember anymore. To me they were trophies, not people. I’d fuck one, promise her the world, and the following week I’d be burying it in another one in the back seat of my car. And now I was getting a taste of my own medicine, drop by drop, with a patience that was scarier than fury.
I still couldn’t move. I was cuffed, tied, and secured with thick padlocks to a ring bolted into the wall. A heavy chain linked my neck to that same ring, and no matter how hard I pulled, I couldn’t drag myself even a foot. I felt a dull agony in every muscle immobilized that way, but what truly terrified me was not being able to scream. The gag filled my mouth with its taste of dirty rubber, and nobody, absolutely nobody, knew I was down there. I was completely naked, with my cock hanging exposed, and that nakedness in front of her humiliated me as much as the blows.
The lady left the leather strap on a shelf against the wall. I breathed out in relief and exhaustion when I understood that part of the punishment was over. My back and ass were burning, striped raw. She slowly turned, looked me up and down, and smiled.
“I’ll leave the strap handy,” she said calmly. “For now we’re done. Don’t worry, we’ve got plenty of time. I’ll keep whipping you later. This has only just begun.”
She said it smiling, while I tried again to wriggle free of the restraints with not the slightest success. Each tug only drove the iron deeper into my wrists.
She walked toward me in her heavy boots, which echoed against the cement floor, and stopped at my side. I looked up and took in her body, covered only by a tight dark dress and knee-high boots. Her big tits pushed against the fabric, the deep neckline showing the beginning of two heavy, mature breasts. Everything about her conveyed absolute composure, the confidence of someone who had done this many times. She spoke to me again in that hard, calm voice that chilled my blood.
“I’m going to tell you a secret. Some of those women you humiliated got together and paid me a good sum to teach you a lesson. The deal was to hold you for a few hours and give you a beating. They paid me to do something I adore.”
She paused, savoring the moment, and leaned toward me. The neckline fell open in front of my face and, to my shame, I felt my cock waking up between my legs, swelling against my will. She noticed it at once. She looked down, arched an eyebrow, and let out a brief laugh.
“Look at the pig,” she murmured. “Battered, chained up like a dog, and he’s still getting hard. We’ll fix that too.”
“But now comes the part they don’t know about. I’m not going to hold you for a few hours. You’re staying locked up here for a good while. Tomorrow I’ll call them and tell them I already let you go, that you learned your lesson. It’s a gift that you fell into my hands. I’m going to try on you everything I’ve wanted to do for years, and the best part is that nobody is coming to look for you.”
She started laughing, a deep laugh that bounced off the bare walls. Then she crossed to a corner of the room and picked up a metal object. I felt my heart hammering in my chest, trying to guess what was coming next.
***
She came back with metal clamps joined by a thin chain. They were shaped like small pliers, with a screw in the center. She dragged over a low chair and set it in front of me, sat down comfortably just a few inches away, and opened the clamps with two gloved fingers.
She closed them on my skin, one on each side of my chest, and began turning the screw with measured slowness. The metal bit harder and harder. The pain grew as she tightened it, until I felt as if the flesh were being torn from me. She tightened a little more, just to see my face, and smiled when she saw how I twisted against the restraints without being able to move.
“Get used to the clamps,” she said. “You’re going to wear them for quite a while. I don’t care in the slightest about your pain, just like you didn’t care about humiliating a woman. Cry all you want; I’m not taking them off.”
She gave another laugh and grabbed the chain attached to the clamps. She pulled on it unhurriedly, and the pain shot through my entire torso. I would have screamed myself hoarse, but the gag stopped me and only a muffled groan came out, which seemed to amuse her even more.
She kept yanking the chain again and again, enjoying every grimace on my face. With her left hand she held tension on my chest and then, suddenly, with her right she slapped my face.
The blow cracked sharply in the silence of the basement. Her rubber glove had a rough palm, that coarse texture meant to keep things from slipping, and I felt it leave its mark on my cheek. She slapped me from left to right, mercilessly, one time after another, while still pulling the chain taut with the other hand.
“I could slap you for hours,” she commented, almost bored. “It’s something I love.”
And she kept doing it, methodically, until my whole face felt hot and swollen. Each smack left the grain of the rubber marked in my skin. I could only close my eyes and wait for her to stop, but she had no intention of stopping.
When she finally lowered her hand, she stood there watching me with her head tilted. Then, very slowly, her eyes dropped to my groin. My cock had swollen again during the beating, hard and leaking against my will, betraying me as the pig she said I was.
“Incredible,” she whispered, and laughed under her breath. “I beat you, I clamp your nipples with metal, I blow smoke in your face, and this thing is still getting stiff. Clearly, you don’t learn the easy way.”
She extended her gloved hand and grabbed my cock with that rough palm, squeezing with brutal force. The rough rubber scraped the tender skin of the head and I felt a flash of pain that blurred my vision. She started jerking me off by force, her wrist rotating fast, with no care whatsoever, wrenching filthy, painful pleasure out of me at the same time. I moaned against the gag, disgusted and on the verge of cumming, no longer knowing what I felt.
“Look at you. You’re going to spill your load like a little brat,” she mocked, squeezing harder. “How many times have you forced some poor girl to do this for you? How many times have you shoved your cock in the mouth of a woman who didn’t want it? Now you’re going to find out what it’s like to be touched without permission.”
When she noticed I was about to burst, she suddenly let go of my cock and dug the nails of the glove into my balls. The pleasure was cut off cleanly and turned into a dull ache that shot up into my stomach. I was left gasping, my cock throbbing in the air, denied relief, while she wiped the glove against my thigh with a gesture of disgust.
“Don’t even think you’re cumming in my hand, pig,” she said. “Nobody cums here except me.”
***
When she finally let go, she got up from the chair and went back to the shelf. This time she took a thin wooden rod, barely half a meter long, and came back twirling it between her gloved fingers. She sat down again in front of me. I was terrified, not knowing what new torment awaited me.
I found out when she seized my balls hard, squeezing with the glove until I thought something was going to burst from the pressure. With her other hand she began bringing the rod down on my cock and balls, blow after blow, without giving me any respite. The wood whistled through the air and slammed against the most sensitive flesh I had, and each strike ripped a spasm from me that shook the whole chain.
The lady laughed out loud at my suffering. She squeezed and struck at the same time, alternating the pressure of her hand with the whistle of the wood in the air. I jerked against the chains uselessly while tears slipped out of me before I could stop them. My cock, which a minute earlier had been hard as a rock, had shriveled from pure pain, and even so she kept bringing the rod down on the head as if she wanted to split it in two.
“They’re useless to you now,” she said contemptuously, crushing my swollen balls between her fingers. “You’re never going to use them again. After a good long while without touching yourself, the mere touch of air will hurt, and that’s when I’ll start kicking you with my boots. I can’t wait for that day.”
She kept humiliating me with the rod until she got tired. Then she stood up, hiked her dress up to her hips, and spread her legs in front of my face. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Her cunt, mature and hairy, was only a hand’s span from me, and the smell of hot woman hit me full force despite the taste of rubber in my mouth.
“Your cock got hard seeing my tits earlier,” she murmured. “Look well at what you’ll never have. This cunt gets wet watching you suffer, pig. Not even with your tongue are you getting near it.”
She ran two fingers through the slit, very slowly, and held them up shiny. Then she smeared them over my nose and the gag, leaving her wetness stuck to my mouth without being able to suck it, without being able to do anything, only smell that cunt mocking me. It was a cruelty more refined than all the blows: wanting and not being able to, having it right in front of me and knowing it would never be mine.
She pulled her dress back down, sat down again, and went over to a jacket hanging by the entrance. She took a pack of cigarettes from a pocket. The old lady smokes too, I thought, surprised even in the middle of my fear. She sat back down, lit a cigarette, and took a long drag, staring straight at me the whole time.
She blew the smoke directly in my face and laughed again when she saw me coughing against the gag. She smoked unhurriedly, letting the ash lengthen, enjoying the power she had over me. I only wished the cigarette would end, foolish me, as if that would give me a break.
When she reached the end, she held my gaze for a second, smiled, and stubbed the butt out against the inside of my thigh, a finger’s width from my mashed balls. The pain was white, blinding, and her laughter filled the basement while I twisted in silence. I was being punished in the cruelest way I had ever known, and I was beginning to understand that she was only just warming up.
***
“It’s time to rest,” she announced at last, stretching as if she were finishing a pleasant afternoon.
She got up from the chair and went to one side of the room, where she adjusted the dress more neatly over her body. She tugged at the end of each glove, yanking them off with a sharp motion, and tucked them into the pocket with the tobacco. Then she picked up the rod and left it on the shelf, neatly, like someone putting away her tools for the next day.
“I’ll come back later and continue with your punishment,” she said, without raising her voice. “You’re going to learn to respect women, I promise you. And if you don’t learn the easy way, I’ve got things set aside for you that will make today seem like child’s play. Next time I’m bringing the dildo. You’re going to find out what it’s like to get your ass fucked until you bleed, pig, just like you’ve done to so many others.”
“Think about what you’ve done. You’ve got all the time in the world.”
She left the clamps on me. She wanted me to wear them for hours, to feel every minute of that confinement in my skin. She went to the door, switched off the only bulb hanging from the ceiling, and plunged me into total darkness.
I heard the key turn in the lock from the other side. One bolt, then another. Her footsteps climbed the stairs and faded away, until the silence was absolute. Nobody was coming in. Nobody knew I was there, and that was how it would stay, because I could neither move nor make a single sound.
In that blackness, with my body burning, my balls throbbing, and the bitter taste of the gag mixed with the trace of her cunt on my lips, I went over every face I had used and thrown away. Marisol, who cried for weeks. Carla, whom I lied to until the last day. I thought of them all, one by one, while the chain around my neck weighed on me like a slab of stone and my battered cock kept trying to get hard on its own, betraying me even in the dark.
For the first time in my life I understood what it was to be at someone else’s mercy, with no escape, no voice, no one. And while I waited for that door to open again, I knew that woman was right about one thing: this had only just begun.
