Miss Aileen S and I were engrossed in a philosophical debate on the nature of genius.
Through the course of human existence there has been only ever been several real geniuses. Leonardo Da Vinci was one whilst Einstein was not. We were debating this very point when who barges in? No, it was Dame Beatrice. Following close behind was Lady Andrea S.
I could tell by the cheeky grin on Dame Beatrice’s face the pair of lesbian fuck-buddies had been plotting something or other.
Lady Andrea could barely contain herself and said she needed punishing. She then poured forth a list of trivial and minor indiscretions of such meekness they were barely worth a moment’s thought.
Dame Beatrice, meanwhile, is nodding and looking shocked as each insignificant misdemeanour was trotted out.
Andrea demanded she be punished. I explained these were not cause for admonishment, that she was forgiven and to worry no more.
I hoped she would let Aileen and I return to our discussions but no. Beatrice said Andrea needed ‘taking in hand’ and the Lady in question was now demanding I deal with her ‘harshly’.
Acquiescing to the pair of cunt munchers I decided on a suitable punishment, aided by the increasingly keen, Beatrice: 25 hard spanks to her naked bottom, ten strikes with the cane to each bum cheek, 11 minutes of severe grasping and kneading of the breasts and the insertion of a large object into the ass-hole which was to remain there all day and, finally, this was to be ‘independently witnessed by a disinterested party – Dame Beatrice’
Once this was agreed the plan concocted by the two cunts was revealed when Andrea said; “Ha!”, pointing at Aileen; “She did all those things too, so you’ll have to do it to her”.
I had been entrapped by a pair of fanny fingering fuckers.
Poor Aileen then had to endure: 25 hard spanks to her naked bottom, ten strikes with the cane to each bum cheek, 11 minutes of severe grasping and kneading of her breasts and the insertion of a large object into her ass-hole which was to remain there all day and, finally, this was independently witnessed by a ‘disinterested’ party – Dame Beatrice.
As the shocked and hurt Aileen tried to sit comfortably with a medium sized courgette in her bottom my attentions turned to Andrea. Had she not agreed to this punishment? Yes, she fucking well had.
Ergo, the tricky trickster was subjected to: 25 hard spanks to her naked bottom, ten strikes with the cane to each bum cheek, 11 minutes of severe grasping and kneading of her breasts and the insertion of a large object into the ass-hole which was to remain there all day and, finally, this was independently witnessed by a party who could see what was coming next – Dame Beatrice.
As Andrea stood sulking in a corner, unable to site because of a door knob up her arse, my attentions turned to Dame Beatrice.
She dutifully disrobed knowing at any time I could rattle out a number of things she has done which warrant the most severe punishments I have available.
I love Beatrice, that smile, fucking hell. However, I am a professional and therefore subjected her to: 25 hard spanks to her naked bottom, ten strikes with the cane to each bum cheek, 11 minutes of severe grasping and kneading of the breasts and the insertion of a large object into her ass-hole which was to remain there all day and, finally, this was independently witnessed by two very interested parties – Lady Andrea S and Miss Aileen S who were horrified but pleased when I managed to insert an oversized cucumber up her anus.
All three of them look a little put out – or put in – as they can’t sit down. On the bright side, in six hours’ time a new day will begin and I’ll let them free up their arses for other activities.
Who is the victor in this tale of plots, schemes and hoodwinking? Fuck Knows. Me probably.
Lady Andrea S. denies the picture from 1926 is her.
“It’s not me“.
She denied being in that calendar when it was her in that calendar.
When those photos of me in Blackpool emerged, I had the honesty to admit it was me after I secured ownership and ensured no-one would ever see them again. My initial denials were because I’m a lying twat prone to lying.
Miss Aileen, said; “It’s not my mom”. What a fibber.
Dame Beatrice said; “You fucker Sywwow, I read what you said in Teat Time 5. I’m going to punch you in the bollocks”. This has no bearing regarding the matter at hand.
For some time now I have been aware there are others with a time machine.
Tesla’s plans were available in some libraries until they disappeared. Someone with the required genius could build one. This, of course, would rule Lady Andrea out. She must have stolen it.
After entertaining Lady Andrea S. to a lovely meal for one I expected some form of retaliation or payback. A plot even.
It came as no surprise when, surprisingly, an email turned up from Miss Aileen S warning of a plot against me:
Dear Sywwow you perfect perfect perfect man,
My mom is plotting against you and has got a plot all plotted out.
By, the way, milk my udders as soon as you can – you said you would, so do it.
Back to the plot, she is going to say she’s cooking you a lovely meal and you have to dress nicely. Not wear that flamboyant Oscar Wilde crap – or that bloody cape.
When you turn up, she’s going to say you look really nice and well presented. She’s then going to say she’s overcome with passion and wants to have sexual intercourse with you straight away, no messing about, immediately. Just for good measure she’s going to tell you she wants you to ejaculate your semen into her award-winning cunt.
This is where the plot thickens. When you’re in the bedroom (the plot thickens) she’s going to say her desire is thus that she feels she needs to mount you like a rampant hussy but wants to tie you up to enable this.
Once you’re tied up: she’s going to Shit in your mouth.
The plot is fool-proof. She rehearsed it all with me, fool-proof I tell you, fool-proof.
Love Miss Aileen S. PS Don’t forget to milk my udders
Well, you could have knocked me down with a train. What skulduggery.
This plot may be ‘fool-proof’ but I’m one fool that can’t be proofed – as sure as eggs are chicken poo.
Sure enough: “Sywwow you perfect perfect perfect perfect man, I’m cooking you a lovely meal so you have to dress nicely. Not wear that flamboyant Oscar Wilde crap – or that bloody cape”.
Sure enough: I’m in her kitchen where, I might point out, there are no signs of culinary preparation; steaming pots & pans and the like.
“What do you think?”, I asked, referring to my attire.
“You look smart but why are you wearing a dress?”
“My lovely sweetheart and loveable love (Don’t I sound great) you are mistaken, for it not be a skirt but a kilt the tartan of which is from mine own clan the Clan -redacted- whom, I may add, are the most notorious of all the Highland clans. A treacherous tribe of villains, cut-throats and thieves you never did see. Plus, some of us are lawyers and not averse to issuing writs and summonses. I know this from experience.
Why, should this tartan be insulted by, say, a stain or some dirt of some kind, the clan would not rest until the person responsible was hanging from an oak tree. It must be oak mind, must be oak, for it be the way of the Clan -redacted-.”
“Well”, she said, “at least you look really nice and well presented…”
“I bet you’re overcome with passion and wants to have sexual intercourse with me straight away, no messing about, immediately. Well, let me tell you, I’m bang up for this notion of yours and, just for good measure, I want to ejaculate my semen into your award-winning cunt”.
“You’ve read my mind”.
Sure enough: we end up in the bedroom and I remove all of my clothes taking special care with the kilt for I do not wish to end up as a corpse dangling from an oak tree.
“Sywwow, darling (here we go) my passion is thus that I feel I need to mount you like a rampant hussy. I need to tie you up to enable this”.
“My love, my sweetheart, my gorgeous blonde fuckable whore (don’t I sound great) by all means do this very thing you have set your heart upon”.
Sure enough: I’m quickly secured to the bed. Tied.
However, and though but, did she use my Tart Ties?: Did she fuck. It took me 3.7 seconds to escape, secure her to the bed securely with my Tart Ties and then, quick as you like, I did a shit in her mouth.
Game. Set. Match.
Postscript. I wasn’t going to mention this but, after a series of misunderstandings and a demonstration of my Tart Ties, I ended up secured next to Lady Andrea S. Miss Aileen then did a shit in my mouth. At a point in time useless to me I received an email from Dame Beatrice:
Dear Sywwow you perfect perfect perfect perfect man,
Those two sluts, Andrea & Aileen, have got a shit plan worked out where they’re going to trick you so Aileen can do a shit in your mouth. I know you won’t fall for it but I thought I’d tell you anyway.
Love Dame Beatrice Ps Don’t forget, you said you would brand your initials on my fucking excellent award-winning ass and fuck with my tits
It is worth noting: If I say I’m going to do something – I do that very thing. Every single time, without fail
At the close of Teat Time Part Four our beloved hero Lord Sywwow had Beatrice, seemingly, at his mercy awaiting what pleasures he would deliver upon her ample bosoms.
The misfortunate pair of tarts, Lady Andrea & Miss Aileen S. had been abused most dreadfully and were left secured to chairs like torture victims – which in fact they were. A pitiful sight – fuck all to do with Sywwow incidentally: Beatrice did it.
Beatrice was set to test lovely Sywwow to see if he was any good at abusing tits or just a twat. She had set herself up as Judge, Jury, Executioner and biased court reporter working for the BBC who’ve always had it in for Sywwow since that SWAT business.
What is to become of Sywwow? Will he survive this ordeal by fiery teacher or will he learn his lesson?
Let’s find out in Teat Time Part Five.
I read all that shit she said about me in Teat Time Part Four and was most put out I must say.
I’d rather let the whole thing go but honour dictates I gain satisfaction. Plus, her plus-sized mammeries do tempt me so. Not only that but this: Seldom does one encounter a tit owner who is so in want of tit abuse of the class I excel in.
I looked at Lady Andrea and Miss Aileen. Their tits were in a sorry state and they had both been subjected to terrible treatment & torment. Fuck all all to do with me, I was an only a concerned bystander helpless as Beatrice did things to them with some help from me.
“Would you mind enormously if I were to give you a kiss, you being so beautiful?”, I said to Dame Beatrice.
She shrugged her shoulders so I kissed her with every sinew of passion I could muster which, I assure you, is overwhelmingly great.
As I released her from my tight embrace and from the attentions of my lips & tongue, she let out a sigh and looked at me as if to say; “What the fuck was that?”
I took the opportunity to flick her nipples before saying most politely; “May I secure you so as to access your breast with greater efficiency than otherwise?”
“Yes”, she replied with a hint of irritation.
I produced my Tart Ties and explained their operation to Beatrice who was suitably impressed. I then secured her four limbs to the chair and asked her to try and release herself. She tried and tried – fruitlessly. Satisfied she was now at my disposal I grabbed those huge & perfect breasts and subjected them to as much twisting fondling and fierce grabbing as one could imagine. I then gave each the hardest slap they’d ever had in their tit abuse curriculum.
Just for good measure, I slapped her face with more power than she had used on mine – that’s for certain.
Her response was to shake her glorious hair and throw back her cheeky face as if to laugh at me.
I looked at the pair of fucked up sluts who appeared to be quite enjoying the show. I took pity on them as I am such an all ’round excellent guy. I released Aileen and told her to do likewise with her mother.
I ordered the pair of lesbians to bathe together and attend to their injuries before going to bed and caress each other until I deigned to attend upon them.
Lady Andrea objected saying she wanted to witness my destruction of Beatrice. Such things are not for gentle ladies such as her & her lovely daughter. My silence was enough for her to take Aileen’s hand and waft off to their appointed tasks – she knows well it unwise to cause me to repeat an order.
When you tarts want your feet caning or far worse it is important to position your feet correctly to facilitate optimum striking and agonising pain infliction – otherwise, the whole thing will be pointless and somewhat odd.
In this handy tutorial I will show you how to get it right, first time, every time:
Using my enormous intellect and outstanding genius I have outwitted those crazed loons at BTM (Big Tits Matter)
I gave the gold to the biggest trouble maker Beatrice which should keep her quiet, the big tart.
Notorious trouble-maker, Amazone, I awarded the silver. She whinged like fuck but I fed her a load of bollocks about the EU, the environment and saving whales. I told her it was for the good of all and to help save the planet. She bought it and accepted the Silver award like a great big-titted sucker.
Heidi, who can be trusted to shut her gob, took Bronze in return for something I did to her bottom which I needn’t mention here.
I doubt we’ll be hearing any more from Big Tits Matter – idiots.
At the close of Part Three, our hero, Lord Sywwow, had found himself with Dame Beatrice at his mercy.
Putting herself in harm’s way seems to good to be true for the easily distracted notorious man.
As oft is the case in these matters, perhaps not all is how it appears.
Could this legend be like so many, if not all, men and prove to be merely gullible and easily led by the charms of a beautiful woman?
I had heard all about this Sywwow from Lady Andrea. I was most unimpressed with the tales of his flamboyant appearance, outrageous behaviour and high-handed treatment of ladies.
It came as no surprise to hear from Miss Aileen: he had abused her sweet breasts leaving her in pained distress.
Journeying home when I received Aileen’s call, I made a detour.
Prodding, squeezing & twisting her titties, as I always do, I discovered how sore, to her, they proved to be.
This Sywwow fellow was in the process of torturing & milking poor Lady Andrea with a vacuum cleaner he had repurposed for the task as I entered the kitchen.
Switching it off, I have to confess, his creation of a device capable of milking and torture impressed me. His adaptation of existing technology put me in mind of Apollo 13.
He struck me like a lightning strike – so, I struck him. It was a reaction: a panic
Tormenting the pair of sluts as is my wont, I tested & probed this Lord of hers. He did not intervene, even aiding me in my dalliances.
Who is this man?
Exposing myself I placed my breasts, my entire self, at his disposal.
I have been subjected to the likes of him before. My large breasts and padded bottom are well capable of coping with attention from the likes of him.
Let’s see if he is worthy of having me or, like all before, a weak fool.
Naked, at his pleasure, he must hurt me and make me cry or will prove to be just like all the rest.
In life we are sometimes tested.
Preparation & rehearsal is what we do to face these tests so we may prove, somehow, worthy.
We are sometimes oblivious as we undergo our greatest tests. These are the trials which take place without our knowledge or consent.
Such is the case now for Lord Sywwow who embarks on an examination of great significance unaware his trial had begun when Dame Beatrice chose to answer a call whilst driving – an occurrence singular in itself.
Could this be the end of our hero and the man beloved by all women who have been touched by his greatness?
We shall have to discover the answer to this, and other questions, when revealed to us all will be: Teat Time Part Five