The Pub Landlady By ImP The pub landlady has unusual methods for dealing with errant staff. Eleanor, a pub landlady had retained her figure into middle age, especially her legs of which she was justifiably proud. She liked to show them off around the pub and wore long dresses with slits up to her thigh, and high-heeled, open-toes shoes. She knew that her regulars liked to look and she considered it just PR. But if she was popular with her customers it was quite a different matter to her staff. She ran her pub with an iron hand and a caustic mouth, and there was a rapid turnover of young barmen whom she treated with disdain. Terry was a one of her barmen, a man in his late twenties, older than the others. He has no time for Eleanor and is sarcastic about her behind her back and scathing about her looks ‘Mutton dressed as lamb’ was the least offensive of his remarks. He had also been putting his hand in the till believing that he was much too smart for Eleanor to catch him. Unfortunately for him Eleanor was very conscientious in her financial affairs and had long suspected Terry; she has also had a secret CCTV installed to watch over the bar staff! Eleanor told Terry to stay behind after closing time on night; he was annoyed at this as he had already arranged to meet friends. “What the hell do you mean by asking me to stay on. I’ve worked here long enough today as it is. I’m going out. I’ll see you in the morning.” Terry walked towards the door but what he heard next stopped him in his tracks and made his blood run cold. “If you don’t want the police knocking on your door at five in the morning you’ll do as I say. I know what you’ve been up to these past few months. And I’ve got the documentary evidence to support it.” Terry turned and looked at Eleanor, she looked very composed but her anger was transparent. He tried to bluster it out. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Oh I think you do.” She answered. “I think you’ll find that there’s a small matter of two thousand plus pounds that you’ve stolen from the till.” “Rubbish. It wasn’t me. It must have been Roger.” He referred to another barman who’d left some weeks earlier. “Oh no Terry it was you” Eleanor’s voice was deceptively calm “as I said I have the evidence. I had CCTV installed some time ago to keep an eye on you lot. I’ve got it all on video you with your hand in the till, literally. Now get up those stairs.” She pointed to the stairs leading up to her private quarters. As if reading his mind she added “And don’t think that you’ll be able to steal those videos. They’re in safe keeping with my bank.” Terry is horrified to hear all this and breaks out in a cold sweat because, unbeknown to Eleanor, he is on probation over a similar offence at another pub where he worked previously. He knows that more bluster is pointless so he resorts to pleading. “OK. OK. I admit it. I’ll pay you back. I’ll work for nothing until the money’s repaid. Just don’t go to the police. Please.” There was desperation in his voice, even panic. “Oh yes,” Eleanor replied “I know you will. But you don’t think that I’m going to let you get away just like that do you? Not after what you’ve said about me behind my back. I was brought to respect my elders, and betters, and that men respected women. Clearly you weren’t. I’m going to teach you some respect. Now get up those stairs.” Terry goes up the stairs with some trepidation. He has noticed for the first a steely edge to Eleanor’s voice and it sounds ominous, but he has no other choice. “In here” she points into her bedroom. “Put your hands behind your back and stand still.” In an instant Terry feels the cold metal of a pair of handcuffs clamped onto his wrists. “My ex was a policeman. At least he left me something useful when he walked out on me.” Eleanor walks round to face Terry, she has kicked off her shoes so that he has to look down at her, but he is the one feeling small. “You know what these are for” she holds out a pair of large dressmaking shears, “they’re for cutting things off.” She notes Terry’s terrified expression with pleasure. “Now what do you think I’m going to cut off? That’s right, your clothes.” Terry’s relief is almost audible. Eleanor takes great pleasure is slowly cutting Terry’s clothes from him. She snips away at his shirt button by button, and then at the fabric until it hangs by shreds on his back. One final snip and it falls away. Next his jeans get the same treatment. Starting from his ankles the powerful shears cut away right up to the groin. Eleanor sees the sweat break out on Terry’s brow as she edges closer to his genitals; the psychological torment is turning her on more than she had imagined. She removes the belt from his jeans and unzips them. A few more snips and they fall away from his legs completely ruined. She removes his shoes and socks more conventionally, but his underpants fall victim to the shears cutting edge. To Terry's shame and disgust he stands completely naked in front of her, a woman old enough to be his mother. Eleanor smirks as she fondles Terry’s cock and balls in her hand; it is the last gentle action he is to receive this long, long night. Tonight Terry is to learn just how severe Eleanor can be and what extremes humiliation can reach. “First of all a caning is in order.” Eleanor goes over to a cupboard and produces a cane which she waves in front of Terry. “I told you that I was brought up to learn respect. My parents used this on me when I was a child. I hated it but it taught me respect. I think that it will do the same for you. Now bend over.” Terry pleads and begs Eleanor to desist. “BEND OVER! The longer you delay the worse it will be for you.” Reluctantly Terry obeys and bends over with his feet apart waiting for the blows to fall. Eleanor waits enjoying the moment as she strokes the cane along Terry’s buttocks. This is what she has been waiting for; tonight she is going to avenge herself on the injustices that all men have inflicted upon her. Tonight she is going to enjoy herself! The cane falls once, twice; Terry sobs in pain but this just goads Eleanor on to more. Four more times the cane lashes his bare backside, six angry red weals bearing silent witness to the assault. Eleanor steps back, admires her handiwork then orders Terry to kneel and keep his eyes on the floor. Eleanor sits in front of him on the end of the bed. ‘Kiss my feet’ she orders. Terry leans forward and does as he is ordered as Eleanor thrusts one shapely foot into his mouth, the other stroking his cock. “Come on lick them all over. Each toe as well. One at a time. Mmm I’m enjoying this. Get them nice and wet. That’s right.” When they were ‘nice and wet’ she took his cock between them and masturbated him to an erection. “Time for another caning. Keep kneeling and put your head on the floor. Bottoms up.” Eleanor placed her foot on Terry’s neck and applied the cane to this backside for another ‘six of the best’. Then she repeated the foot worship and footjob on him, bringing him almost to orgasm before yet another caning. After four doses of this Terry was sobbing in agony, his backside a mass of criss-cross weals. “Now it’s time for you to give me some pleasure.” So saying she slipped off her panties she raised her dress to the waist before sitting down again. ‘Get licking’ she pulls Terry’s head towards her pussy. Eleanor clamped Terry’s head between her thighs and thrust her pussy into his face, her nails scraping long scars down his back. To Terry It seemed like hours before Eleanor was satisfied; but not with her punishment of Terry. “Come and lie here like a naughty boy.” She pulled Terry across her lap. “Look in the mirror so that you can see your punishment.” And Terry lies there draped across Eleanor’s bare lap, one leg on the floor the other stretched out along the seat, his cock trapped between her thighs. Eleanor administers a spanking with the palm of her hand; it doesn’t hurt like the caning but on his tormented backside a feather would be anguish, and as he squirms on her lap his trapped cock grows erect again. ‘You see. You like this don’t you Terry?’ She repeats the question when he doesn’t answer “I said you like this don’t you.” “Yes” he answers feebly. “Yes what.” “Yes mistress.” He intuitively knows the correct response. “I enjoy it very much mistress.” He sobs. ‘Kneel on the bed. Head down and arse up.’ Terry looks up horrified but Eleanor is already dragging him onto the bed. And now Terry’s worst fears are realized as he sees Eleanor strip off her dress and put on a strap-on dildo. ‘Now you’re going to find out what it’s like to get fucked.’ Eleanor cheerfully announces and lubricating the dildo with baby-oil she kneels down behind Terry and proceeds to fuck his arse. Terry howls and then moans as Eleanor not only fucks him but reaches round and taking his cock in her hands masturbates him. Terry is surprised that he can be erect. After all he is being fucked by a woman old enough to be his mother, and one whom he hates. He hates her even more now but he feels disgraced by his inability to prevent the rape and shamed by his response to it. Eleanor pulls out and rolls Terry onto his back before climbing onto Terry and taking his cock inside her. She fucks herself on his cock getting more and more worked up, scratching at Terry’s chest and bouncing up and down until he comes. If Terry thinks that his punishment is now over and that Eleanor is satisfied then he is, once again, mistaken. Eleanor proceeds to abuse Terry for the rest of the night forcing him to come three more times and when, eventually, he is completely drained Eleanor makes him lick her to orgasm. In the morning Eleanor gives Terry his orders: “I have destroyed your clothes so you cannot work in the bar. When you have completely cleaned my flat out to my, painstaking satisfaction I will provide you with shirt and jeans to work in the bar. At night you will provide me with what additional sexual service I require. This will continue until you have repaid your debt. I think it will take a long time. Don’t you?” But Terry was beyond thought, now all he knew was service. The End