.The Golden Age cartoon strip. Sweet Gwendoline with a storyline involving a heroine being pursued by a range of villans, while aided by her girl pal, U69, is among the very best fantasy stories ever told.
The lady above, vaguely dressed as U69, hints at the stories strongpoints.
Gwendoline spends her whole life strictly, cruelly trussed by the villians only to be rescued by her girl pal.
Who then proceeds to rope her like there's no tomorrow. To their mutual enjoyment.
All female characters, good or bad, are portrayed in nothing more than heels, stockings, knicers and corsellette. And bound very securely.
Half their luck!
As seen above U69 is normally dressed comparatively demurely. Although still often bound and gagged.
If one could enter a cartoon as a character, then Swert Gwendoline counts as a 'must try'.
Assuming, of course, that 'off screen' you are being solidly rogered while 'unable' to resist.
The promised rain began to patter down around where I stood. Sunday noon and all around was either closed or closing. Except the 'Museum Corrections'. The door was open and the board still out. I ran over and ducked in out of the increasingly heavy rain.
And obviously in the process of shutting for the day. But no! I wasn't too late! Come in out of the rain. Perhaps I would like a guided tour?
A you
ng woman stared at me. Black leather boots, pants, corset and gloves, matched to a white blouse, her auburn hair pinned up in a bun.
Well, why not? Places like this are always run by volunteers. People who are genuinely interested and understand ever paying customer brings in much needed revenue to keep the place afloat.
Cake and coffee were included after the tour. Eva was. I would say, slightly reserved, quiet, but obviously a devotee. How much I would discover.
She led me to a wooden frame. Similar to a saw horse, but heavily constructed with bolts, D-Rings and thick leather straps.
Eva went in to her rehearsed spiel.
The villan would be strapped down, ankles to either far leg, wrists same on the other side. Naked, of course. Ask she spoke , her fingers lingered lovingly over the pieces. Taking a central steel ring and looking back up at me, Eva pursed her lips and detailed the rings function.
The males balls would be ǰcinched. often stretching them out severly. The cord run through the ring and reefed tautly. Only then could the flogging begin.
Eva was crouching down to hold the shiny steel ring, her tight pants now even tighter. And that was good. Very good.
Her green eyes were locked on me, waiting on my comment. OK! When was the last time it was used? Showing an interest. Her answer somewhat stunned me.
There was one at home. Mother bound Father down and flogged him whenever it was required. Now I REALLY was stunned!
Eva walked up close, her expression oddly neutral. Then she added that SHE flogged him on occassion. Quite hard. They have to learn. Eva's carefully studied me as the last bit was added.
Did I know what I was looking at now? Enlighten me. That got a smile. Eva was pretty when she smiled. I imagined Eva in her leather, glove wrapped firmly about a whip handle as daughter whipped father. Smiling as she went about her work.
Abruptly Eva spun on her heel and walked off. Plenty to see! We came display cases. The
type with the opening glass top. Reaching in, a black leather glove lifted out a collection of steel rings.
Do you gag your father? When you whip him? It just came out. I expected Eva to react. Surprised at the question, maybe? Again the eye contact.
Mother jams her knickers in his mouth. She placed her finger to her chin, in thought. She often milks him into them first, then in they go! I don't do any of that.
I laughed. A sign of nerves. Surely, Eva was having me on. The reserved apperance masking an impish nature.
If you put this on. I'll milk you. Allright? Stunned again! But she was serious. A hand on my chest, her lips brushing my lips. As I moved my hands onto her hips, she spun out of reach.
You will need to be naked.
I didn't know how to react, what to say. But with Eva's fingers gripping my privates snd the pressure of the cuffs, I was now offering a rock hard erection. As a, hopefully finishing touch, a hinged bar swung up and separated each gonad.
Like the call of the siren. I stripped off and allowed Eva to click on what proved to be heavy duty steel cuffs. A wrist in each cuff and the solid and heavy central cuff severly closed and keyed about my balls, leaving me stooped over, a wrist locked either side to somewhat cruelly clamped and stretched balls.
Eva stood up, now standing slightly taller than me as I was locked bent over. Her leather gloved finger touched under my chin. Lifting my head up so, once again, our eyes met.
There's more! REALLY!!
Steel collar with chain. Upper arms leather cuffed and drawn back together, vastly increasing the pressure on my aching, though swollen, balls.
I stood motionless as Eva slowly circled.
Did I say I would milk you? I couldn't remember, but I said YES any way.
That searching, unreadable look from my young, auburn haired guide. And captor.
An arm on mine, and young, increasingly cruel, auburn tressed, Eva led me back to the whipping horse. In some form of bizzarre thinking I refrained from begging for mercy. Not wanting to appear weak? Not wanting dissapoint a young woman with unmanliness? Did her fathet beg Eva and her mother not to be whipped? Or was he the one demanding it?
With practised ease Eva secured me kneeling an end, my collar chained to yet another solid D Ring. Now I was worried.
Eva! Does your father asked to whipped?
For the first time Eva showed true emotion, in fact, she almost reeled with amazement.
No! Definately not! Mother milks him into used knickers and jams the mess into his mouth.
Eva walked a few paces behind me, smacking the crop into her palm. She leant close, the scent of perfume and leather hypnotizing me as I knelt, cuffed and collared.
He begs! And begs! Eva was excited. Very excited. Your turn!
