Femdom Toledo

This is my first collaboration story and I enjoyed the whole process very much! Writerswitch had the initial ideas and wrote most of the story, and I hope added some ideas and depth too.

This female domination story contains scenes of humiliation and BDSM. It is entirely fictional and completely our own work.

Please DO NOT read any further if you do not enjoy fictional stories in which males submit to dominant females, either willingly, forcibly, or by coercion.

Please DO NOT read if you think that stories like this should end up with the male taking control and beating or fucking the female - If that's your bag, none of my stories are for you.

Please DO NOT read if you don't like stories in which men are physically disciplined by women.

Please DO read further if you want to learn how a chance encounter in the ancient city of Toledo unlocks a Madame's darker side.

If you like this story, please vote and comment - it helps to marginalise the votes and comments from Trolls, of which, sadly, there are many!

Writerswitch and I hope you enjoy!

==========

TOLEDO

==========

When Andrea and I began telling friends and family that we would be spending the summer hiking in the Cabañeros national park in Spain, everyone who knew the region told us the same thing; "you simply must visit Toledo on your way."

Persuaded by the weight of opinion, we booked a hotel in the city for our first and second nights, and planned to spend the first full day of our holiday there. From the moment I first saw the city walls, illuminated by golden light beneath the black and empty night sky, I knew that we had made the right decision.

The following morning, we parked the hire car in a small car park to the east of the river Taag which crashes through a deep ravine around three sides of the most ancient part of the city, and we crossed into Toledo itself via the historic Alacántra bridge. When we reached the other side of the gorge we passed through the Arabic horseshoe arch of the Alacántra gate, and climbed the steep steps beyond to lose ourselves in a maze of narrow streets, wandering without direction, exploring without purpose. Even in the morning, the creamy coloured stone of the fortress was radiating heat, and it made me think of all the cool, dark places that might be within - hidden rooms, secret chambers, dungeons where one person could do things to another in complete privacy, the thick stone impenetrable by human sounds.

We explored the cobbled streets between the old houses and ancient municipal buildings, the museums and shops, and already we agreed that we had not been wrong to give ourselves a day here to immerse ourselves in the majesty of centuries.

Eventually, when we got tired and hungry, we asked a shopkeeper for a restaurant in our best Spanish. He studied the two of us for a moment, particularly Andrea whose dark hair and deep dark eyes were not out of place in rural Spain, then answered in perfect but heavily accented English, suggesting a place nearby in an old building that had recently been renovated. He put his leathery fingers to his puckered lips when he described the food, as though feeding himself.

Andrea decided that we should follow the man's advice, so we walked the route as he had described it, through a small square populated by a single olive tree, and down several narrow stepped streets until we reached a tall building with newly pointed stonework and a smart, red door. The stone frame looked like it was centuries old, ornately carved with a Moorish design as though it was wooden lattice, and to the right, where a modern door might have a bell, there was carved a double headed eagle, which I already recognised as the symbol of Toledo, though in this ancient incarnation, the tail was a horizontal and vertical cross.

The space on the other side of the door was magnificent, almost cathedral-like as it consisted of a huge void bordered by balconies upon balconies, suspended between ancient stone pillars. What was on each balcony was impossible to tell, as though the void was large, the windows were small enough to keep out the heat of the day, and the light within was dim. The renovation of the place was exquisite, with crisp mortar in the joints of the old stone, and hefty new Spanish oak dovetailed into the black, notched and grainy beams that were original features.

Under instruction from the matronly Maître d', Andrea and I climbed a spiral staircase to the second floor and settled into a cosy corner which still afforded a view into the depth of the void. We observed the character of the place, illuminated only by candles and dim incandescent filament bulbs, until the waitress came to serve us.

I have to admit that I was caught off guard when she arrived - the lady, or more of a girl in my opinion, who I would soon refer to in my head as 'The Fury'. She had black hair and dark eyes, much like Andrea, but they blazed with intensity, every glance a challenge, and I immediately imagined that she could turn a man to stone or cinders if she stared at him too hard. I found myself looking away from her eyes, to her full, painted lips, to the wisp of hair that had escaped her bun and lay before her ear, casually hanging beside her delicate neck. Her waitress' blouse was clean white cotton, fastened at the front by utilitarian white buttons, the gaps between them just a little too large, the young flesh of her flat tummy visible in the shaded place, her small breasts held firm by a sturdy white bra.

Suddenly I realised that I had been staring. I blabbed a humble apology but could feel the blood rush to my face. The Fury gave me a look that chilled the perspiration on my spine, but Andrea looked amused, and I already knew that this would lead to trouble. Worse still, I could tell that The Fury now knew who wore the trousers in our relationship.

Andrea ordered some red wine for herself and some water for the table, and watched The Fury leave, then she turned to me, still with that amused look on her face. "Impressed?" she asked.

I nodded candidly - there is never any point in trying to lie to Andrea. "Very!"

"Ha!" she scoffed, even more amused now, "Shall I give you a free hand?, see how far you can get?... and when we get back to the hotel I'll give you a severe beating for being so Macho!"

I imagined the dual delights of being humiliated after a failed attempt to seduce the young waitress, and then being spanked thoroughly for my fickle behaviour. Still, I would have enthusiastically protested about her questioning my loyalty had I not suddenly felt her shoe trailing up my leg, and slowly moving toward to my crotch.

"Open your zip" she said quietly under the low murmur of the restaurant. I obeyed, unzipping my fly and pulling the material of my shorts apart then rooting inside to pull my boxers clear of my hot cock and balls. There was a clunk below the table as Andrea's shoe fell from her foot, then I felt her heel resume its journey, closing in on its target. I was tired from walking all day, but excited at the prospect of feeling Andrea's foot in my lap, her heel on my naked balls, pushing them hard. I was stiff in no time, so as Andrea's foot finally reached my sex, she could feel me hot and ready from heel to toe beneath her sole. She pressed gently and repeatedly, rubbing my fat cock with her hot foot, then harder, letting me know that I was still to be punished for letching at The Fury.

I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation of Andrea's rough footjob. She rooted her toes into my fly and deftly pulled my cock into the open air beneath the table, before resuming her gentle assault. There was no way that she would bring me off in a restaurant, not now that the seed of some physical punishment had already been sowed in her mind and she wanted me horny and willing, but I hoped that she would still take make this moment last.

Suddenly I realised that The Fury was next to us, I blushed again even before I had opened my eyes to see her standing there, knowing that she must have noticed something. She looked me in the eye, then turned to Andrea.

"Are you all right señora? Can I help?" she asked. It seemed like an innocent and well intentioned question at first, but as they looked at each other I could swear that I saw The Fury wink, and a special moment passed in which two people discovered that they were of a rare but like-minded kind. A mischievous smirk came across Andrea's face.

"Yes," Andrea concluded, settling back into her chair and glancing in my direction, "as a matter of fact there is. Could you help me by bringing some cut, hot pepper? We need to remind someone of his proper place"

The Fury looked directly at me, then turned again to Andrea. "Certainly Señora," she said with a broad smile, "no problem."

She was gone for just a few minutes before returning with a small plate upon which lay several freshly cut peppers which she presented to Andrea by balancing it on the upturned palm of her hand.

Still reclined in her chair, Andrea asked, mischievously, "Would you mind showing my husband the toilets? he needs to hide them, you know, somewhere private."

Andrea and The Fury smiled conspiratorially at each other, and The Fury, still with the peppers presented on the plate, turned to me.

"Up!" she commanded.

I obeyed immediately, jumping to my feet before feeling the cool air on my exposed cock. Realising that I'd forgotten to tuck myself away and close my zip, I immediately reached for my cock and found it still semi-hard, fat and hot in my hand.

For the first time, I saw The Fury smile at me. "You'd better do something about that, Señor!" she laughed.

I quickly began to tuck myself away, but Andrea interjected. "Leave it! go now!" she ordered. It was a demand and a challenge, and one that I did not dare to disobey, despite my humiliation.

The Fury gave Andrea a short look, scanned the restaurant for onlookers, then nodded in approval. It was humiliating, but also intensely erotic to have this young lady a co-conspirator in my humiliation.

"This way," she directed, the plate of peppers still laying on her hand.

I scurried along behind The Fury as we took the short walk to a dim corridor with black painted walls and ceiling, leading towards the restaurant's toilets. The Fury stopped beside the door to the Ladies' and turned to face me.

"In!" she barked.

I did not dare to protest, so I pushed open the door to this unfamiliar territory, and entered. I was sure that The Fury was still smirking slightly as she watched my cock, softer now but still quite swollen, lolloping around before me.

The last cubicle was larger than the others, and The Fury directed me into it, still with the ominous peppers. She closed the door behind us, and slipped the bolt across. Now I was trapped in a small cubicle with this beautiful girl, my cock still on display, and already guessing what torture her unspoken agreement with Andrea was to be.

The Fury leaned lazily with her back against the door. She looked like she was going to devour me. "Drop your pants, now," she ordered.

I did, unfastening the button of my open fly and allowing my shorts to drop to the floor. They fell fast, and my belt clattered on the tiles.

"Underwear too! quick! or do you want to get caught trying to rape me?"

I nodded quickly to indicate my willing compliance, and swept my boxers over my hips. When I stood upright again I was naked from the waist down, my shorts and boxers in a crumpled heap around my ankles, my cock stiffening again. She watched it bob as it filled and rose.

"Hold this!" She commanded, passing me the plate. I took it and held it before me, as though presenting the peppers to her. Then, with a wicked smile, The Fury took the first pepper from the plate. It was red and, where it had been freshly sliced, juicy and wet. She looked me in the eye as the pepper disappeared below the plate on its way to my groin, and continued to hold my gaze as she took my erection in her small, soft hand. I exhaled gently at her touch. The pepper, when it first touched my taut skin, was cool and almost soothing, but as she smeared the juice further around my genitals, the heat began to rise. She dropped the spent pepper on the floor of the cubicle, took another slice, and rubbed that too around my shaft and balls. Hotter and hotter the sensation got, until it felt as though she had wrapped me in a hot flannel and I was fidgeting around on my tiptoes.

"You like that?" she asked, her dark eyes glinting but intense, threatening to burn me to cinders. "Yes!" I squeaked. It was not a nice physical sensation, but I certainly had enjoyed having my penis abused by this pretty young lady.

She smirked, which softened the death-ray of her eyes, then I felt her grip my shaft and tug my foreskin back, exposing my delicate glans as she took another fresh pepper from the plate. My cock swelled to new limits with excitement, and I steadied myself for the assault.

When The Fury smeared the new pepper onto the thin, taut, delicate skin of my bell-end, the pain was instant, stinging as though she had dipped the head of my poor cock into hot water. I yelped, and she held my cock firmly down as though trying to keep me on the floor. "Shush!" she commanded, and I immediately bit my lip, but she continued to rub the flesh of the pepper into my exposed bell-end, and I continued to hop around the cubicle. I was aware that I was sweating, and my face quickly felt hot and clammy. My breath was short and rapid, and I suddenly began to worry that I might hyperventilate.

The Fury dropped the pepper and leant back against the door of the cubicle again, a grossly exaggerated look of mock sympathy across her face as her eyes flitted between mine and my shiny bell-end, which I was certain must be glowing bright red by now. She looked delighted with her work, and proud of the discomfort she had caused me.

At that moment, we heard the door to the toilets open and a lady enter. The Fury reached up and put one of her fingers on my lips, and we stood in silence as the stranger entered the cubicle beside us, urinated loudly into the echoing toilet, flushed, washed her hands, and left the room. I prayed that she would not see any of the dropped peppers, and relished the feel of The Fury's finger which remained on my lips throughout the other woman's visit. Behind the flavour of peppers, I could taste The Fury's young skin.

The Fury let a few more seconds pass, then took a long, triangular shaped piece of pepper from the plate in my hands, and ordered me to bend over.

I turned around, placed the plate on the toilet seat, and rested my hands on either side of it. Even before I had steadied myself properly, she had begun to rub the flesh of the pepper into my arse crack, swiping it back and forth from my perineum to my coccyx. The juice warmed my skin just as it had with my shaft and balls, but when it swept across my arse hole, fleeting as it was, it bit with an intensity that overshadowed all other sensation. The sting remained, intense and hot, excruciating and delightful on the tightly wrinkled skin of my pucker. The burning sensation consumed me, and I wriggled my backside in some sort of defence. At first, I did not even notice that she had pressed the sharper end of the slither of pepper into my anus, and was pushing it slowly into my rectum. When the realization hit me, I yelped aloud, just as the delicate skin inside my passage began to burn.

The Fury, delighted by my distress, slapped me hard on the backside, seemingly forgetting that we should have been quiet. Petite as she was, the smack of her hand was hard and powerful, and my knees buckled slightly. Then, in a manner well practiced during spankings from my own, wonderful Madame Andrea, I stiffened my legs and took several more unforgiving slaps from The Fury while the pepper stuffed up my arse burned cruelly. I took as much as I could take, and The Fury slapped me hard until she heard the first of my sloppy snivels, and knew that my eyes were wet.

She stopped, and in a strange moment of tenderness, rubbed my stinging backside with the palm of her soft little hand, soothing my pain. Then "Up!" she barked.

I stood, shuffled awkwardly around, conscious that the long pepper was still in my rectum, and mortified at the prospect of it somehow slipping out.

"Get dressed now, and go back to your wife. Be nice to her - she deserves better attention and devotion."

I nodded humbly as I pulled my boxers and shorts back up, folding my fat but wilting cock into my briefs, and resisting the urge to try to massage the sting away.

She opened the cubicle door gingerly, peered outside to check that coast was clear, then stepped out to the sinks and began to wash her hands. Wordlessly, I shuffled past her on my way back to the safety of my beloved Andrea. I had reached the toilet door before The Fury's young voice jolted me to a halt. "Wait!" she barked.

I stopped and turned to find her stalking towards me, her hands still wet, and before I knew what was happening she slapped me hard on my left cheek, then, with her other hand, my right cheek even harder.

"That will teach you not to thank me". She barked, her eyes were back to their full demonic strength.

"Thank you, señorita", I stammered. The tears began to well up in my eyes again, but as I moved my hand to wipe them away, The Fury batted them away from my face.

"DON'T," she commanded, "Walk back like that. Let your wife see how I have humiliated you. Tell her that you still carry the implement of your torture in your ass. And when you finish your meal I expect a large tip! Otherwise we will meet again. And I will bring some help."

"Yes, my Fury," I answered humbly, but immediately she raised her hand as though to slap me again, then held it steady while she pondered something and looked at me intently. "Fury?" she asked eventually, "What does this mean?"

I caught my breath as I realised my mistake, and thought quickly, searching for common English words that she would probably know.

"It means 'fierce'," I offered, cautiously, "wild and powerful..."

Her dark eyes narrowed as she gauged my honesty, then she lowered her hand and shoved me hard in the chest with it, pushing me back against the door.

"I like that," she said, turning her back on me and returning to the sink to finish the job of washing her hands. I remained for a moment, admiring such confidence in someone so petite and young, until I caught her watching me in the mirror, then made my hasty retreat.

With my head spinning, I made my way back to our table to find Andrea leaning back in her comfortable chair with a broad smirk on her face. I carefully sat myself down opposite her, the pepper in my arse bending to accommodate my posture, my cock and balls burning. Andrea studied my face, even in the dim, atmospheric lighting of the secretive restaurant she could see the tear tracks on my face, and the reddening of my slapped cheeks.

"Well?" she asked, "Was that nice?"

"It was torture Madame Andrea," I started, "she was very cruel to me."

"And did you enjoy it?"

"Yes Madam, very much. Thank you for having me punished by the girl."

I didn't know if Andrea had asked The Fury to punish me because she wanted me disciplined, or just for her own amusement, or maybe just to show The Fury how completely Andrea owned me, but I thanked her anyway - that always makes Andrea happy.

She pushed her foot into my crotch again and I took it in my hands and rubbed my stiff cock through my pants onto it, humping the sole of her foot to show her how hard I was, and to worship her foot with my unworthy sex, then I held her more gently and massaged her foot.

"Thank you Madame Andrea," I repeated, and she closed her eyes and smiled broadly.