Fallen Angels

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Updated 7th April 2023 - Fully refreshed and rewritten. Hope everyone enjoys this. This is a story about an involuntary act of theft from a strong athlete and her subsequent punishment. Story is still in progress......

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Kirsten is spending her holiday in a part of Japan. Everything has been going well for her recently. She has been promoted to a very high rank in her company; the youngest so far to attain such a position. She also won several championships for her rowing club. A prestigious rowing institution had invited her to take part in one of their camps, and from then on her potential will be limitless. This trip to Japan is meant to be a relaxing break before she dives back into her busy routine. She had already explored the majority of England, so she decided to try somewhere that is completely exotic. So far she is enjoying her trip, a lot.

Everything is new and fresh, and fascinating. The culture, the people, the arts. Her healthy complexion shone under the warm sun as she strolled along the country path. People smiled and admired her powerful physique and well tanned skin. She never felt better in her life. At the age of 36 she is still at the height of her physical prowess. She is dressed in a white underneath, and tights that stopped just above her knee. Socks that reached just below the ankle disappeared into a pair of sneakers. Her shapely thighs and calves are powerful but feminine, and dangerously attractive.

Feeling thirsty, she involuntarily picked an apple from a nearby tree and took a bite. The sweet juice swirled around her mouth and cooled her cheeks. She is indeed a striking figure as she stood there. Her hips and buttocks showed through her tights, fleshy and toned. Her blonde ponytail gave her a youthful and girly appearance, despite her age. But make no mistake, she is a strong woman, both physically and mentally. Everyone respected her at work and in her rowing club. Even the more hardy members are afraid of crossing her line. Although fair, she is capable of making short work of anyone.

Suddenly a decreipt old man came hobbling at her, yelling something. He pointed at the apple she is holding, and continued his flow of Japanese gibberish. Kirsten stared at this ugly old man, with tattered clothing and an old pair of sandals. After a while of his nonsense she realized what he is trying to say. The apple tree belonged to him, and she had taken from it. In Japan this amounts to thieving. There are some strange rules in Japan. If a thieve is caught in the act, she will remain in full custody in the person she stole from. This means that the victim legally own her, and can do anything he want with her, until such a time as he wish to release her. Strange as it is, it is the law of the land. This makes things tricky for her, because all she did was take an apple by accident. It is such a trifle, surely he doesn't need to kick up such a fuss?

With a slightly apologetic smile she took out her wallet and offered to pay for the apple. The old man shook his head, and pointed at the ground. He pointed at her, then pointed at the ground. Repeatedly. Finally, through the jumble of words, he mumbled, "...kneel. Kneel!"

This angered Kirsten a lot. Who is this dirty old man, asking her to kneel? Who does he think he is! It is just an apple. Seeing this short, bent old man waving his arms at her and asking her to kneel made her incensed. She turned to walk away. This old man hobbles up behind her and places his wretched, muddy hand on her shoulder. This is too much to bear for Kirsten. With one powerful swing of her arm she sent him flying onto the ground. She looked at him, a crumpled heap on the ground, and cannot but feel disdain for this wicked old man.

"Get out of my way, it is just an apple, get over it."

Leaving him groaning in pain Kirsten again went on her way. However, her unique personality prevented her from simply leaving. She fiercely upholds rules. As one who has strict self discipline and follows a tight routine in life, she cannot tolerate breaking a law, no matter how non-sensical the law is. These principles are a part of her. With a heavy sigh, and against all her desire to walk off, she returned next to the old man on the ground, and kneeled down.

"Sorry... please forgive me."

Rubbing his back, the old man seemed surprised, then satisfied. He slowly stood up over her, while Kirsten remained kneeling, hands on her thighs, eyes downcast. From a distance he looked domineering, and she submissive, despite the contrast in their physique. With one hand still massaging his hip, and looking down on her with a hint of mockery, he motioned her to stay put. He walked a little distance to the left and begin tussling with something in the grass. Kneeling with ankles touching her bottom, and hands obediently still, Kirsten looked in wonder. The old man returned and dropped a sack of objects in front of her. A confused metallic clamour issued from it as it touched the ground. The old man was visibly tired from this task and was panting. Kirsten laughed within herself at his poor health. This type of load she can carry for days on end without breaking a sweat. He is indeed infirm and weak with age. What can he possibly do to her?

Kirsten looked inside and saw some rusty and used objects. A dirty leather collar with an equally dirty leash, dog hair intertwined all through it. A gag bit commonly used for horses. Two blunted hooks attached to a string rope. A long scarf like object.

Kirsten did not understand what the man expected her to do at first. But once she does, her temper flared. What is this disgusting old man thinking? He wants her to wear these unwashed animal restraints? For an apple? That is outrageous.

The old man pointed at the objects, then at her, with a stern face. Kirsten got up, pushed him to the ground, and walked off. "No old man, keep your dirty habits to yourself please!"

But it wasn't long before she turned around again. Her conscience just wouldn't let her. What he is asking is despicable, but it is the law, and she is in the wrong. She just couldn't walk off. Just couldn't. The old man had gotten back up again, moaning and holding his knees in pain. He did not give chase, he was visibly incapacitated from Kirsten's push. She strode forcefully back to the old man, head held high, back straight, as if readying for conflict. She towered over him and gave him a deadly look. Her fists were clenched tightly, as was her jaw. The old man suddenly wavered. He took a step back, and his eyes betrayed fear. He tried to turn around and run but fell to the grass. He stared with a frightened expression up at Kirsten. Unexpectedly, Kirsten dropped to her knees again. This time she touched her forehead onto the grass in front of him, her hair brushing against his dirty sandals.

"Sorry, I'm sorry. I will wear them. Please forgive me. I will do whatever you say. I will wear them now."

The old man was shocked through and through, then became bemused. A light of understanding flickered in his eye. He got back up again, standing directly atop the kneeling Kirsten. He was so close that her head was almost touching his thighs. She could smell the sweat and toil emanating from the old man.

Disgusted, but determined, the kneeling Kirsten reached into the sack and took out the cheek elevator bit. She placed it into her mouth. The leather felt damp and tasted salty, as if had just been used by an animal. She controlled the urge to vomit and bit into the leather, fastening the ends of the bit behind her head. The old man suddenly grabbed her hair and made her face him. She submitted without resistance, arms hanging loosely by her side, head held in position by the old man. After inspecting her for a moment, he slapped her across the cheek and said, "..tighter.."

Kirsten could only curse within herself. How she wish she can tear this fragile old man to pieces! He is nothing to her! Just be patient, she told herself, this is the law here. Just put up with it, and it will be over. Reaching behind her head she tightened the bit until the leather ate into the side of her mouth, tearing at the flesh. She could not speak a word. The salty taste, combined with her saliva, choked her. The old man apparently was satisfied and nodded impassively.

With a look of fury at him, Kirsten took hold of the unwashed collar and fastened it around her neck. She felt and smelled the dog hair attached to it. It was disgusting and she again wanted to vomit. But she persevered. She then blindfolded herself with the scarf, tying the knot firmly behind her head. She realized that the hooks were for the nose, and put that on herself last. She inserted the two hooks gently into her nose and pulled the attached string rope upwards. "... tighter.. tighter..." came the voice of the old man, in a cold tone. She tugged at it with increasing force, until she could bear the pain no longer. The old man suddenly took hold of the string, pushed her hands away, and drew it upwards with great force. She felt her flesh tearing at the seams, and her head was jerked upwards by the force. She gave a sharp yelp of intense pain but it was muffled by her gag bit. Her nostrils were now opened so wide that she could feel the air physically rushing in and out. She thought of how she must look. Collared, gagged, blindfolded and hooked by the nose, very much like an animal. The old man drew the string over her head and fastened it to her collar at the back of her neck. As he tied the knot roughly to her collar he intentionally pulled it even tighter. She felt the tear around her nostril again and gave another yelp. She could not understand how her nose has not been torn apart yet, or how there doesn't seem to be any blood. The pain she felt was extraordinary, and she is a strong and powerful woman who is used to pain.

She felt utterly helpless. Although her hands and legs are free, she cannot see or speak, and her nostrils has been forcefully enlarged by the hooks. The gag bit ate into the sides of her mouth, making her skin crack, and the leather she sank her teeth into reeked and tasted like sweat. She felt saliva drooling from her mouth, but she couldn't stop it. Exactly like an animal, definitely not a human.

Instinctively, without even understanding why, Kirsten crossed her wrists behind her back. Her powerful arms glistened white and smooth under the sun, well toned and freckled by occasional moles. The old man scoffed, took out a zip tie and tied her wrists together. He did so a bit too tightly and Kirsten felt her a sharp pain in her wrists. She gave another involuntary yelp of pain, which came through the gag as a muffled groan. She wanted to tell him that the zip tie is too tight, but the gag bit choked her and made it impossible. She could only hope that the circulation was not completely cut off. And to imagine that just moments ago those hands felt so full of strength, and could sweep this old man down effortlessly. Now the same hands and fingers were turning purple and numb. She is now fully at the mercy of this abominable and frail old man. Her well toned biceps, body, full buttocks, gleaming white calves, and long golden hair have all become a play thing for this infirm old farmer. The hard work she put into herself at the gym, in the rowing club, all of her strength, her power, are now all meaningless because of the restraints. No amount of brute force can get her out of her bondage. She can only follow the orders of the old man, like an animal. Her youthful skin, lightly haired and smooth, which so many others longed to touch, is now owned by this Japanese old beggar. He can use her in anyway he please, this woman who is looked upon by so many young admirers, and untouched by all. Who knew that in a rural village, such a powerful woman would come to such an ending?

Pulling the leash up harshly the old man made Kirsten stand up. He then wrapped the leash around his hand until he was practically holding her by her collar. Kirsten felt the old man pull her collar down and she was forced to bend over 90 degrees. Her buttocks were pushed up high, which showed through her tights fleshy and firm. Her thighs, also revealed through the black tights, were equally shapely, muscular but alluring. With one hand gripping the leash and keeping it low and firm the old man dragged Kirsten forward. Bent over like this, buttocks high, head held down by the old man, she found it difficult to keep balance. Her cheeks kept brushing against his dirty hand. The ziptie continued to cut into her wrists and her stumbling movements only hurt it more. Her nostrils were dragged wide open and when coupled with the fully gagged mouth she made grunting noises that were similar to a pig. As the old man dragged her onwards she spluttered and grunted, trying to keep pace, while her buttocks bobbed sexily up and down. Although she was very fit and healthy, this compromising position made her sweat and beads of it flowed down her calves into her socks and shoes.

The sun hung squarely in the sky and soon Kirsten was drenched with sweat. Her singlet was soaked and stuck on to her like paint. Her pants, socks and shoes were equally wet. Sweat rolled into her wide open nostrils and made her grunt. Her knees knocked against each other as they went, and she staggered everytime the old man made a sudden pull on her collar. Not being able to see was disasterous for her balance; her steps were unsteady and her legs now and again crossed each other in confusion. They now seem to be walking on a public road. The ground underneath had changed from a rocky texture to a smooth hard surface. There seems to be a lot of bustle, but each time Kirsten (hobbling) and the old man came close a strange silence fell around them. Kirsten could only imagine all the passerbys talking about her.

After what seemed an eternity of whispers and judgement, the old man slackened his pace and took a sharp turn, pulling Kirsten with him. All Kirsten could see were filtered light through her blindfold. A scent of her own perfume, brought out by the excessive sweat, wafted in the air. She suddenly felt a downward tug at her collar and she fell to her knees. The tug continued and forced her to bend forward and downwards until her face hit the ground. The impact sent searing pain through her face, tormented as it were by nose hooks and a bit gag. She screamed, but as before it came out as a soft dampened groan through her gag. She was now bent over on her knees, with one side of her face touching the ground, and bottom held high. Her arms remained tied behind her back, and her hands took on a bruised purple colour.

She could hear the clatter of cups and plates around her. A busy chatter was reduced to a murmur as she knelt, and she believed she became the sole object of whatever conversation was at hand. Several voices addressed themselves at the old man, who replied, breathless from the walk, in a disdainful manner. Kirsten have no doubt that she was being described as a thief caught red-handed. She heard several hurried whispers, and the occasional gasp from the audience.

It was indeed a strange sight to behold. A hunched old man gasping for breath, but in control of such a large and powerful white woman. Her health was evident from her muscular arms, thick thighs and calves. She took a lot of pride in her fitness. However, all that strength and power were trapped by a single zip tie.

They were at a open air eatery by the road. The old man sat down on a chair, slowly recovering, with Kirsten as an animal on the floor. Most of the other customers had stopped their chatter and eating, and were gossiping about this captured woman. A lot of them shook their heads, and glanced away from this terrible scene. After recovering his breath, the old man stood up, and shoved apart Kirsten's legs. This placed her in a very exposed position. She was still on her knees with her buttocks swinging mid air, but the opening of her legs accentuated her shapely and full bottom. Licking his lips, the old man gave her buttocks a slap. Kirsten's body shuddered. The sound reverberated in the air, as all eyes fell upon the master and the thief.

After waiting a bit for the humiliation to seep in, the old man gave her buttocks another resounding slap. This time it was much harder, and the noise broke through the silence like a hammer. SLAP.. Kirsten inhaled deeply. SLAP.. Kirsten gasped. What does he think hes doing to me!! This is too degrading, getting spanked publicly at the age of 36, and in such a position too!

Slap...... Slap..... SLAP

The hand spanking continued, at odd intervals, until Kirsten let out a muffled moan from the pain. She could hold it no longer, her buttocks were on fire, and her skin under her pants were getting raw.

Slap. Ugh..... Slap. Aaaa...... Slap. Ugh...... Slap. Uh..... The crisp sound of spanking followed by Kirsten's whining repeated rhythmically. Her body rocked to and fro as the strokes landed one after another. Sometimes she lurched forward in anticipation of a slap which did not come. At other times the slap caught her unaware and her hips jerked away suddenly. Her full round buttocks quivered at each touch. She was beyond embarrassed. Her cheeks flushed crimson as she thought of the old man's scaly hands punishing her again and again.

At last the old man stopped. Kirsten secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Surely he must be done by now. Her bottoms burned even without being touched. And she desperately needed to go to the bathroom. His incessant punishment was making it hard for her to hold it in. To her surprise the old man untied her blindfold and threw it aside. The afternoon sun pierced her vision, and everything were momentarily a blinding white. As she regained her sight she was abhorred, and wished that the blindfold was still on. She could see in plain sight the crowd that had gathered round her. From the very old to the very young, from the husband to the wife, they stood stock still. They were horrified by what they saw. How could such a powerful and well kept foreign woman be at the mercy of this rickety old man? Some mothers placed their hands hurriedly over their child's eye and took them away. The level of shame was frightening.

The old man went behind her and pulled her tights down to just below her bottom, revealing smooth but reddened skin. Very fine hairs, barely visible, moistened with sweat, lined her buttocks and glistened under the sun. A black underwear hid her private parts. Kirsten's face immediately turned blood red, and she gave out a loud groan. Her buttocks were on full display to anyone and everyone. No one had ever seen her like this. This was too much to bear! And of all people, to be exposed by this old man. With her buttocks pushed outwards, legs spread wide apart, and black underwear exposed, she felt very vulnerable. She tested her bondage but they were as unyielding as before. If anything, the zip tie, gag bit and nose hook seemed to cut even deeper into her flesh.

She scanned her surroundings again. Her audience's eyes fell fearfully on the old man and her. Everyone felt uneasy at such a gross domination. She was a symbol of fitness, he a symbol of infirmity. Her animal like submission was disgusting, and this was reflected all around on their faces.

Sharp and crisp, he spanked Kirsten on her bare buttocks. The sound rang through the air. She let out a yell. It was many times more painful than before. The removal of her tights made a world of difference. She felt his brutish hand land blow after blow on her clean, untouched buttocks and felt sick inside. I'm being abused.....SLAP... Aaaaa... my white and soft skin.... by this old man.....SLAP... ugggg...... and everyone is watching.... SLAP ...... ahhhhhh ...... SLAP ..... ughhhh....SLAP.....aaaaaaa....SLAP.....uggggg