The Raffle

Losing Bernadette devastated everyone. When a group centers around adults temporarily escaping banality through fantasy and role-play, a tragic event quickly injects icy reality into their veins, chilling each with their own personal fears of mortality and chance. Any playful aura is ripped away like a cold comet from the deepest space stripping the nurturing atmosphere from a living planet. It is a punch to the stomach. Bernadette’s cancer was just such a blow, one that left all of them gasping.

Sadness lingered a month past the funeral coloring everything gray, until the group decided the best way to shake their doldrums while still honoring their fallen comrade was to hold a fundraiser for Breast cancer awareness. If other kinky groups could sponsor slave auctions for HIV, then why not do something similar in Bernadette’s memory? Because their group was small an auction would not be practical amounting to little more than donations among themselves. They had to do something different and since they all had friends outside of their formal Femdom group who might well be interested in some charity-driven play, they came up with the notion of a raffle.

The ground rules were simple: two members, one female Top and one male sub, would volunteer their respective services to their lucky winners. There would be no expectation of sex, per se, but no restriction on the possibility if the volunteer was willing. The Top would provide an opportunity for a winner to experience submission in a safe, controlled environment. The bottom would provide an interested Top, whether novice or not, an outlet for their dominant desires. The submissive would be expected to provide a bit of domestic maid service or even personal services like a back or neck massage or foot-rub all with the understanding that the lucky winner had the option to reward or punish their efforts with a bit of discipline. The volunteer sub fully realized that those would-be Tops purchasing a ticket would most likely be a bit more interested in the chance to do a bit of spanking instead of just having their furniture dusted.

It was an ideal raffle; something for everyone…..or at least something for everyone who harbored a kinky Femdom fantasy. But even as chance had selected one among them as a singular reminder of mortality to the rest, chance now would touch a slightly larger circle, a circle within and one without, with lessons of a wider variety. There are few better demonstrations of chance than a raffle, and this particular raffle would touch several people all in different ways.

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When his friend Denise first approached Larry with the raffle, he wasn’t sure about entering. Sure it was a good cause, and ‘yes’ he was a submissive who wouldn’t mind a quality session with an experienced Top, but he still hesitated. Denise assured him that Ms. Gwen, the female Top whose services were offered up to the winner, was a good friend and worthy disciplinarian. In the past, Larry had complained that punishment sessions often lacked realism. It was the main reason that despite having an attraction and strong friendship with Denise, things just never fully clicked the few times they attempted to play together. So, content to simply enjoy each other’s company outside of a bedroom or dungeon, the pair each continued to seek their perfect match.

Denise had always told Larry that BDSM was essentially an adult form of play, built around safety and trust, with everyone respecting the limits and preferences of the other. But he just wished there was a way to inject an edge of genuine, fearful regret into a scene. Concocted offenses or feigned displeasure worked OK, but felt a bit weak. Larry desired something that connected more extreme physical sensations to deep emotional roots. According to Denise, if anyone could give Larry the experience he was after, her money was on Ms. Gwen, and therefore she suggested his money, literally in the form of a raffle ticket or two, should be on her as well.

When, through luck or fate he won, he was given enough basic information to contact Ms. Gwen via e-mail. It seemed a worthwhile idea to exchange a bit of information before arranging a meeting. E-mail allowed for honesty, safety, and a bit of anonymity. In his notes to her, Larry confessed his desire to experience a punishment session that would feel ‘real’. It wasn’t so much the intensity of pain that he was concerned about, but rather a sense of deserved but reluctant comeuppance. In short, he wanted to not want what he wanted. And while Ms. Gwen politely offered an exchange of pictures, she was pleasantly surprised when Larry declined saying that while admittedly curious, he would prefer to have her allure be based on her ability to dominate rather than on how she looked. 

Eventually the two decided it was time to finally meet. Gwen’s assessment of his nature through the various e-mails indicated this lucky winner was sincere and harmless. And besides, Denise offered to accompany him to her place….…at least initially….just in case there was any sort of issue. It therefore came as a bit of a shock when after ringing the bell, Gwen opened it to see not just one familiar face but two. “Gaius?” she asked in pleasant surprise.

“Gaius?” Denise repeated curiously turning to Larry. Larry was speechless but finally managed to explain that ‘Gaius’ was his class name for Latin I in high school and that ‘Ms. Gwen’ was formerly ‘Mrs. Lester’ his teacher. What Larry could not say in that moment was that he was never Mrs. Lester’s favorite pupil just as she was far from his favorite teacher.

“Mrs. Lester?” he finally responded.

“Oh do come in!” Gwen smiled warmly in the same voice that used to irk him back in school. Once inside and after pleasantries were exchanged, Gwen bemusedly told Denise about the difficulties she had with ‘Gaius’ since he seemed so stubbornly opposed to memorization or practice study. When Denise bemusedly asked if that was true, Larry grudgingly admitted the assessment was fair, but opted to still leave out his personal feelings regarding his former teacher. Denise just nodded and smiled before asking Gwen for a brief private talk.

After a few minutes Denise and Gwen returned. “I talked with Mrs. Lester, ‘Gaius’,” Denise said with humorous emphasis on the nickname, “and she told me that she plans to use this quirky bit of fate as an opportunity to conduct a rather special remedial tutoring session. Not one to stand in the way of education, I’ve agreed to leave you two alone and do a little shopping. Mrs. Lester will call me when it’s time to pick you up. Since you have complained to me endlessly about wanting a discipline session that feels real, I can’t think of any reason why you would not want to stay since I am sure you will certainly get your wish today.”
Denise walked past her friend, gave him a friendly hug and whispered into his ear, “You look nervous. Try and relax. Isn’t this exactly the kind of situation you’ve been looking for? Just go with it. This should be fun.”

When Denise closed the door behind her, Larry realized he was in trouble. “Um, look, Mrs. Lester, high school was a long time ago. I was what? 14? 15? I know I wasn’t the most mature or responsible student, but that was then. I am much older now.”

“So am I, Gaius,” Gwen smiled, “and you may be older but right now you sound like the same person I knew back then; still trying to wrangle out of things. Still just trying to get only what you want. I always regretted certain things about those days and now that I am out of professional teaching I can finally correct what I see as certain failings in our educational system.” The conservative educator reached for an old worn book in her cluttered bookcase and handed it to Larry. “Remember this?” she asked.

“Yes, it’s a copy of our old Latin Textbook.”

Gwen nodded. “Turn to page 14,” she instructed.

Cracking open the text Larry quickly flipped to the page only to be confronted by an illustration he remembered well. It was photo of an old Roman fresco depicting teachers overseeing the birching of a student being held by two assistants. “You see, Gaius, I always felt that those Roman educators knew how to properly deal with the occasional student who just refused to study and learn, but given modern laws and sentiments I was never allowed to use such methods myself. That is……until today. But before we begin our lesson, there is something else,” she sighed with an air of disappointment.

















"There is something besides just Latin vocabulary and declensions that has never been fully resolved to my satisfaction, something that needs to be dealt with before we can start fresh as teacher and pupil. Do you know what that is, Larry?”

Larry gulped knowing he was guilty of plenty of things that Mrs. Lester might be thinking of, but unsure of which particular she was focusing on. “No Ma’am. I mean I know there are probably a bunch of things from back then, but I’m not sure which one you have in mind.”

“Do you recall ‘Missy Mousey’?” she asked with a sternly-raised eyebrow.

Larry winced at the term. Seeing his reaction, Gwen smiled again, “Hmmm, I see. You didn’t know I knew about that, did you?”

“No Ma’am, but like I said earlier, that was a long time ago. I was just acting like a stupid kid. I would never call you that now,”

 Larry admitted as he recalled the day he came up with the nickname. Mrs. Lester and her small, drawling voice always made her seem mouse-like to him. Even her diminutive stature and pale complexion augmented the image of her as a shy, tiny rodent. He had no way of knowing that outside of school, she was a tigress with claws. He remembered his small circle of friends laughing at the name and how it stuck for long after that day. Still, it was a nickname used in private. No one ever said it to Mrs. Lester’s face…..no matter how timid she appeared. Feeling remorseful, Larry offered an apology, “Mrs. Lester, I am sorry about that.”

Gwen nodded with a sigh, “I am sure you are, and I accept your apology. However, if you recall, I did say we needed to begin fresh. It is what you seem to want as well, since you keep distancing your current self from the actions of your past. I think in order to do that we both need to acknowledge that these hurtful actions, the nickname in particular, were still your doing. So let me just say that for me that name was particularly offensive.” Then with her stern demeanor cracking for just an instant, she added, “it also hurt my feelings.” In that moment, Larry realized Ms. Gwen was not merely using some instance from their past to fuel the session. She had been genuinely hurt by that nickname, enough for it to still be bothering her all these years later and that realization bothered him.

Larry’s face betrayed his thoughts. Catching his expression, Gwen remarked, “That surprises you? You perhaps thought as a teacher, I had no feelings? Larry, I realize to a 14 year old kid, anyone over 20 seems old, and I was around 33 or 34 when I taught you, so I probably seemed ancient. But I was still pretty young by adult standards.” Larry nodded in recognition of that particular truth, though it wasn’t something he had ever considered before. Currently 34, he certainly still felt young. Gwen continued, “Anyway, like I was saying, when I heard about my nickname from some other teachers, it really bothered me. So much so that even though I was aware of its use, I chose then not to bring it up. I overlooked it, mainly because I knew that if I did address it my options to deal with it fell far short of what I felt was appropriate. Had I just confronted you and your little group, I would have been able to force an insincere apology from you and hand you a detention slip. Somehow it seemed better to let it go rather than address it so ineffectually. However…….” she paused as she walked over to a side table lined with implements of correction, “today I have a few more options than I had back then. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Larry hung his head realizing he was now going to pay for something he did twenty years ago. He watched Mrs. Lester run her hand across the various tools in a wave of contemplative selection. Finally her hand stopped above one particular item and Larry could see her smile as she picked up a stout, wooden hairbrush with obvious satisfaction. “Now this particular option is what I think would be a very appropriate choice,” she declared, “and perfectly suited to the task. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Once her decision had been made, the ever-practical Mrs. Lester suggested that Larry use her facilities to prepare himself as needed. He was encouraged to change out of his clothes, use the toilet as needed, tidy up, and return promptly “without a stitch remaining”.

As Larry carried out his former teacher’s instructions, his mind focused on Mrs. Lester. Even today, even after twenty years, and even given his current situation, he did not like her. She annoyed him. Her voice, her posture, her entire being made him shiver slightly. He wasn’t actually repulsed, this was more akin to the feeling one gets when seeing a silverfish in the basement; a minor revulsion. And now, this person….of all people……was going to have him at her mercy….and all because he was the lucky winner in a raffle. ‘The winner,’ he thought, ‘lucky him’.

Despite the ridiculousness of the situation, he found himself calmly complying with her instructions. He didn’t have to. He could tell Mrs. Lester that he wished to forfeit his “prize” and call Denise to come get him. Mrs. Lester could not make him stay. And Denise might tease him a bit about backing out, especially since he made such a big deal about having a session infused with reluctance and regret, but what was a little teasing from a friend? There were plenty of things he could tease her about. And yet, he did none of those things. Instead he stripped himself bare and prepared himself for the consequences to follow.

Seeing his naked reflection, Larry’s brief admiration of his own physique soon transformed into embarrassment at realizing that none other than Mrs. Lester would soon see him this way. ‘Of all people’ his conflicted mind repeated. Naked and vulnerable in front of the enemy. That’s how he used to see her: the enemy, Missy Mousey, his academic nemesis. He recalled the illustration from the textbook and of the day twenty years earlier when he first saw it. It was near the very beginning of the semester and his negative feelings for Mrs. Lester had only begun to develop. The class contained only boys his age and the then 30-ish, Mrs. Lester, small in size, nasally voice, not really old enough to be their mother, casually pointed out the illustration remarking on how the seemingly extreme discipline depicted would have been commonplace in a classroom such as theirs had they all been born in Rome at that time. Though stated objectively, the accurate and seemingly innocent observation immediately triggered a repulsive and historically inaccurate image in Larry’s mind.

In Roman times, the teachers and students were all male, so the horsing and restraint of the near-naked student was carried out by two male assistants as another male brandished his stinging rod of birch switches. This painful lesson was directed and witnessed by several somber seated educators, again all male, and as such…all business. Though probably unintended, something in Mrs. Lester’s droning tone prompted Larry to imagine the same situation with her as the disciplinarian. Still a classroom of boys, but now presided over by a female teacher who would correct their faults with a determined but dispassionate whipping of their naked behinds. It was probably that moment, the moment in which Larry bristled at his teacher’s almost bored, asexual acknowledgement towards what would have been their fate, that he first disliked Mrs. Lester. Had she taken a different approach, had she expressed the historic fact with a wink of ‘you guys are lucky’ humor, or even an air of sympathy for those unlucky boys of two thousand years ago, it might have been different. Heck, even if she had teased them that she wished she could use such methods today, she would have seemed more likable. Anything that would have conveyed a sense of appreciation for the victim’s fate would have been better than the bland, matter-of-fact implication that nothing other than time separated her classroom of boys from a bunch of long-dead Roman boys with welts under their togas. But there was no emotion. Nothing to make him feel that his embarrassment or pain would mean anything to her other than a means to an end. “Agricola, agricolae….fwack!” A dead language…..and lifeless punishment. He knew even then that punishments should be glorious things for both disciplinarian and victim and she didn’t seem to get that. It might have been forgivable……..if she was male.

How could he have known what she truly was outside of her classroom? How could he have known that she would have loved to have birched every single one of them, grinning at the sight of their dancing, welted boy-bottoms, but because of her job, and her personal feelings she was striving to discuss that illustration without giving anything away? How long would she have kept her job if anyone suspected that she secretly loved to lash a smooth behind until it was striped? Had he only known, he never would have hated her. He never would have considered her a mouse. Instead….he probably would have struggled to find some way to tell her that he was the other side of her strange secret coin. He might have even tried harder in class, just to please her. It was unfortunate that circumstances confused his young and immature feelings. The flood of thoughts acted as a baptism of sorts. Old feelings were cleansed by a new revelation: he hadn’t liked Mrs. Lester merely because she didn’t seem to be what he thought she should have been, even though she actually was.

Larry exited the bathroom and approached his ex-teacher noticing her unexpected smirk. Apparently she was not displeased at the sight of her former pupil in such a revealing state. “Mrs. Lester,” he began bravely, “I need to tell you something.”

“Yes, Larry?”

“Mrs. Lester, I came here today because I won a kinky raffle and because I’m a sub looking to have an exciting adventure with a capable Top. I didn’t come here knowing that the Top I was going to see was you. I never liked Latin and I have no more desire to learn Latin today than I did back in school.”

Gwen swallowed at what she was hearing. It seemed quite evident that Larry was backing out. And while that thought bothered her, it also made sense. Sometimes real can be too real. She continued to listen.

“So, after doing a lot of thinking, here I am,” Larry announced as he held his arms up from each side. “I was very wrong to treat you the way I did back then and I am very sorry for it…..and that’s not a forced, insincere apology. It’s not even intended as a ploy for sympathy. All things considered, I think you are entitled, not just by your role, but by past injustice to punish me as severely as you wish. Afterwards, I would appreciate it if you would accept me into your remedial Latin class.”

“But you just said, you had no interest in learning Latin.” Gwen blinked in confusion.

“I don’t,” Larry admitted, “and that is why I would like you to teach me, using the methods that you always wished you could have used. I am imagining it will be very difficult and unpleasant. And I don’t want to come across as telling you what to do, but I think it would be best if you could think of some way to prevent me from backing out. Wouldn’t you agree that this could be much more interesting for both of us if only the successful completion of your agenda………..by your standards…………. resulted in the class being dismissed?”

Gwen laughed with approval. “I like that thought, ‘Gaius’, and I do have a suggestion for the classroom portion of your very interesting proposal.”

“Yes?”

“I will gladly conduct class just as you suggested provided we call back Denise and have her present. You need to tell her exactly what you just told me and then, with her as a sort of neutral party, we can proceed. Do you agree?”

Glen nodded, “yes Ma’am, I think I understand your reasoning and I think as a mutual friend, having her here would ensure I follow through on my end of the bargain. I’ll call her now. I don’t think she’ll mind cutting her shopping short for this.”

“No, I do believe you are right about that. She likes to watch me in action. Has she ever seen you punished before?” Gwen asked.

“Actually she and I have experimented a bit together but things just never really gelled. Denise likes to set up cute role-plays and I think I’m looking for something more………………”

“Real?” Gwen offered.

“Yes.”

“Well then perhaps this will be a good experience for her. This will be……. um……..something new, and certainly very, very real. And if nothing else, it won’t hurt to add a little extra embarrassment to your situation as well. I think it could be nice and humbling to have someone you know as well as Denise see you put through your paces.”

“No, Ma’am, you are right again. It seems fair enough.” Glen conceded.

“Good,” Gwen said and nodded in turn. “I will admit, this offer has a very appealing aspect.”

“I am glad you think so. You see, I have suddenly realized that you and I are victims of chance and fate and circumstances. However, sometimes things go full circle and, in time, chance grants us an opportunity to correct things that were tangled and twisted before. As a disciplinarian, you can appreciate that? Correcting things from the past?”

Gwen nodded with a smile. “I do.” Walking over to a straight-backed chair with her hairbrush, Gwen looked up at her ex-student and student-to-be and observed, “you know, you really have grown up, and changed. There was a time when you would have done anything to get out of class, or work, or study, or even punishment. All you seemed to want to do is have fun and here you are, my lucky little raffle winner, and what do you choose for your prize? A long overdue and very genuine punishment spanking followed by a lengthy Latin lesson that is sure to be difficult and quite painful. Neither prospect sounds like fun at all….at least not for you.” Gwen paused to reflect on her thoughts and added decisively, “in fact, I can pretty much promise that of all the words you might use later to describe this session ‘fun’ will not be one of them. I, on the other hand, am going to enjoy myself immensely. Now call Denise and then get yourself immediately over my lap, young man. Before she gets her for our Latin class, I am going to show you that mean nicknames are not the only things that can hurt people. And that little lesson is going to be just between you and me.” 

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“It’ll be fun,” Larry mocked repeating Denise’s words. “Isn’t that what you said? ‘Fun’. That sure didn’t seem like fun to me. Bent naked over her sofa, wrists and ankles bound with restraints, getting stroke after stroke of that woman’s switch! And all with you watching?” Larry ranted as he got into Denise’s car. Denise snickered at the tirade, prompting Larry to continue. “And giggling! Don’t think I didn’t hear you!”

Denise laughed. “So what if you heard me? You called me back from my shopping to be your witness.”

“That was her idea.”

“I appreciated it. It was very enlightening."

“How so?”

“Well, I had never considered taking a session so far into the real world like that. But I have to admit, seeing you so desperate towards the end was………………..well, hot.”

Larry looked over at his friend. “I can’t imagine that. All I remember was trying to do whatever it took to remember those declensions. Stupid dead language,” he huffed. “I’d be trying to recite the love one: amo, amas, amat………and then I think I said ‘amamus, amantis, amant’ and she was all FWACK-FWACK-FWACK with that switch of hers!” Then he imitated Gwen’s voice, “amatis. Not amantis. Again. Damn I was sweating to remember it all.”

“That’s what I found to be so hot. You weren’t just playing at being obedient and submissive. You were really striving to please her.”

“Hell yeah! She had that switch just waiting for any mistake, so naturally I was working to avoid that."

“That’s pretty effective control then, wouldn’t you say?”

Larry bowed a bit in recognition of the truth in Denise’s assessment. “Yeah. You’re right. I have to admit I never liked Gwen…or Ms. Lester very much. But I have to admit I have a new respect and admiration for her now. And she wasn’t wrong to do what she did. I never even realized I had hurt her feelings as much as I did back then. She had every right to punish me for that. And to be honest I think I needed it as well as deserved it.”

“I think I’d have to agree. So why all this ranting? I think you got something you’ve been looking for a long time. All this complaining sounds like the ‘old Larry’, not the one I saw only minutes ago trying desperately to please his ‘teacher’, especially at the end.” Larry blushed deeply at the remark which Denise easily noticed. She was obviously referring to how after Mrs. Lester had finally been satisfied enough with his progress to end the class by first congratulating him and then suggesting he demonstrate his appreciation for her teaching skills by first liberating her tired feet from the handsome boots she had worn and worshiping them as she and Denise relaxed with some wine. He must have been licking and sucking her fragrant toes for nearly half an hour, all the while still thinking, ‘of all people’. And yet, not wishing to offend her in the very least, or give her any further cause to reapply her switch to a bottom already burning, he performed the task with a desperate feverishness all too obvious to Denise. So with Mrs. Lester’s feet firmly planted in his previously sarcastic mouth while he could hear her shrill voice chatting with Denise and instead of reluctance, he strove to worship every toe, probe every nook, lap each sole. How embarrassing. The reaction made Denise laugh. “Oh yeah,“ she teased. “So how were those wiggly piggies, huh? You sure acted like they were the tastiest treat you’ve ever had!”

“Stop,” Larry replied with a pout, embarrassed at truth in Denise’s taunt.

“Oh don’t be that way. I think all of this is just an act. I think you are just struggling with having gotten what you’ve always wanted….only from a place you never expected.”

“You’re right. I really am just taking a pose.” Larry chuckled to himself and at himself. “To be honest, I think I came away from this actually liking her after never having liked her before. I mean, like you said, she really had me in the palm of her hand. That is not a small accomplishment considering how I can be.” 

Denise nodded. “I saw it myself. I saw it in your face. And …..I liked it. And what you are saying also sounds …………………very ‘real’ and I like that too………….more than I thought I would.”

Larry twisted his mouth. “I thought you didn’t like ‘real’. I thought you were all about this as ‘play’?”

“I think I’ve changed my mind. Do you think you’d like to try again with me? I think I’d be really turned on if you struggled this hard to please me.”

Larry considered the offer and felt a strange feeling come over him. His entire demeanor softened. “Um, yeah. I think so. And you know I already like you quite a bit. If we can get this part to work we might just make an ideal couple.”

Denise snuggled in closer. “Hmmmm, I like the way that sounds. And you know…………I may decide to be really strict with you, but I can be very generous if you are a good boy.”

“Oh, I think I’d like that a lot,” Larry sighed, thinking maybe his grueling session with Gwen was just what all three of them needed to resolve a panoply of issues, both old and new, and open a door to a promising future.

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On one hand, since Patty considered herself a rather accomplished Top, despite not being an actual member of Women With Power, she felt that her winning raffle ticket was as much a prize for the sub volunteer who’d be serving her as it was for her. Such was her confidence. However, Patty also realized that she might not be everyone’s idea of the perfect Domme. Not that she didn’t know her stuff, but because she fell, quite earthshakingly, into the niche euphemistically referred to as BBW. Those with a fetish for girls of generous proportions vied for her attention, but not everyone saw a woman of her size as desirable. Many in fact would find her weight a turn-off at best and some might actually feel repulsed. Consequently, she felt torn by her own self-acceptance and knowledge that whatever her size, she possessed the winning ticket and her realization that even a volunteering sub deserved the consideration of knowing what he was getting himself into. It just seemed fair. Once she had received the contact information for her prize, whose name was Glen, she decided to allow him a kind of preview of what was in store.

Two days after the tickets were drawn, Glen received an e-mail. In it he learned that he had been won by a Domme named Patty. Further reading informed him that Patty was experienced and eager to set a time to collect her prize, but that she also wished him to visit her personal website. The e-mail included the URL and in a sense of fair play, a request for the considerate reciprocation of a photo of himself. Nothing dramatic, a simple smiling head shot would be more than adequate. Eager to see the Domme he’d be serving, Glen pasted the address into his browser and clicked his way to Patty’s site. It did not take long to discover that Patty was not of average or even above average size. She definitely was the extreme. However, though well beyond zaftig, she was not unattractive. Her online image revealed riveting pale blue eyes and impeccably coiffed blonde hair. Most remarkable was her complexion. Fair to a point of radiance, not a single blemish interrupted the vast, rolling expanse of skin. By most standards she could actually be considered pretty……… until that standard was applied to her weight.

Glen did not mind though. The size of a Dominant woman’s body just didn’t matter as much to him as her ability to take control. Besides, he had volunteered for the charity, and he was a man who stuck by his word. He contacted Patty and set a date to meet.
About a week later, Glen found himself at Patty’s modest home. Meeting the Domme in person afforded the opportunity to experience her unflappable confidence first hand in addition to being forced to appreciate her impressive size. Patty was both physically and emotionally a force to be reckoned with. It was not long before Glen was naked and at her feet prepared to serve by acting as Patty’s valet.

A common trait among submissives is a fondness for behinds, and in this regard Glen was no exception. As Patty turned towards her bureau she presented a profile that stunned him. The gargantuan posterior protruded generously, but unlike the sloping folds of breast and belly, the massive backside jutted like a gravity-defying outcrop. Turning still further she presented her magnificent bottom full on, proud and upright, huge and haughty. Glen let out a small sigh of awe. Patty heard the telltale exhalation and asked, “You have something to say? Speak my little temporary slave.”

“Ma’am, I…um…uh….your bottom, Ma’am…..is amazing.” Glen confessed breathlessly.

Patty smirked to herself, her back still towards her prize. “Slaves shouldn’t gawk at their superiors. However, if you feel that overcome with admiration you should kneel and make your way over here so you can pay homage to my amazing curves. Now, come quickly and cover my entire little ass in kisses. Do not miss a spot!”

Glen did as bid willingly and gratefully. The task was both teasing and monumental in scope. To follow Patty’s direction would take some time, but Glen obeyed eagerly marveling at the coolness of the smooth surface. Once he had laid his lips upon every square inch of pale peach buttock, he wondered if he was expected to proceed into the fleshy crevice between or if such action would be considered presumptuous. Patty seemed to perfectly read his thoughts as she noticed the small hesitation after the last kiss.

 “I said ‘entire’, slave.” As she spoke Patty climbed upon her bed and arranged her bounty of pillows around her to support her body comfortably as her flesh splayed out atop the mattress. Still even as her doughy folds seemed to melt across the sheets, her bottom still retained its roundness, flattening only slightly under the persistence of gravity. Glen followed his Mistress and climbed behind her. The pale flesh of the overall bottom grew even paler at the inward curve where the two cheeks met. Gently parting the twin mounds, he espied a long thin line of iridescent pink which delineated left from right and acted as a luminous trail towards the circular marvel dead center. Hidden between those mammoth buttocks resided a disproportionately tiny, pert orifice, so seemingly perfect it appeared almost fake.

It resided completely unobstructed in Patty’s long divide. Not a single noticeable hair appeared around it. Such was Patty’s fair, Nordic complexion. Glen could not recall ever encountering such a phenomenon before. Many times, in brunettes of darker skin tone, he had encountered veritable tangles of crinkly hair, sometimes spreading like a dark fetid forest along a forbidden ravine. Even women who were similarly fair harbored at least a few stray strands in this vicinity, but not here.

Never before had Glen seen such a perfect anus. Absolutely circular, without any distortion or deviation either in actual shape or by the presence of bump or mole, its clocklike spacing of radiating creases teased him with their exactitude. It reminded Glen of one of those rosettes one sees on a cake rendered in peach-pink icing, except that rather than peak in the center, this one dimpled inward.

He had seen and worshiped quite a few behinds and had always been amazed at their diversity. Some were dark brown and others blended in exactly with the surrounding flesh so that they seemed to be a barely-visible asterisk of line. Some were large, flat striations spreading like spider legs towards the beginning curve of each buttock, others an asymmetrical ring of ruffled flesh. Others resembled fat caterpillars with their heads at their tails.
 Another very small percentage had no feature whatsoever, appearing as nothing more than a mere puncture in an otherwise smooth expanse of flesh. But none could compare to Patty’s.

Without further hesitation he paid his respects to this iconic ring of submissive desire, and within seconds felt Patty respond with pleasurable undulations as he rhythmically penetrated the tight hole ever so tentatively with his tongue. Patty’s favorable reaction brought an instant grin to Glen’s face as he now decided to repay the flawless surprise Patty had presented to him with a surprise of his own. Breathing in the warm musky air from between the massive cheeks, Glen now pressed his face fully into the divide, invading it as deeply as he could manage with his straining tongue.

Patty had never felt such a sensation. Her eyes widened in both pleasure and shock at the depth of the intrusion. Never had anything burrowed so fully into that part of her. This was no mere licking but something more akin to anal sex…….except with a tongue, a tongue of generous length and flexibility…….a tongue that would humble Gene Simmons himself! For while Glen was genitally endowed almost modestly, his tongue was just less than an inch short of record length. And this happy anomaly soon sent an orgasm coursing through Patty’s nethers without any added stimulation to her genitals. It was an unusual orgasm but no less satisfying for its uniqueness. As she breathed erratically after her climax, she felt the wiggling intruder withdraw. Her bottom now felt somewhat incomplete. “Hey, I don’t remember telling you to stop.”

Glen blinked at the reprimand. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I sensed you had an orgasm and figured you’d…….”

“Shhhhhh,” Patty hushed playfully. “No one asked for an explanation. I much prefer your tongue where it was instead of flapping out excuses.”

Glen blushed and snuggled back into the valley before him. Feeling the generous tongue once again slip into her, Patty couldn’t help but purr a bit like a contented lap cat. She wondered if her slave had the stamina to keep her contented for as long as she desired. It could be a long night. Still, she heard no complaints and just relaxed herself utterly, happily discovering that doing so permitted Glen to probe depths she had never thought possible, and while she was sure Glen was enjoying himself, Patty now considered that perhaps she was the true winner of the raffle after all.

--the end

Larry's story
Patty's story
(Unknown artist)
.The longest tongue measures 10.1 cm (3.97 in) from its tip to the middle of the closed top lip and belongs to Nick Stoeberl (USA). It was verified in Salinas, California, USA, on 27 November 2012.