Mistress T

“Standing before her, I am ordered to masturbate. This is the one task at which she is pleased to admit I excel. Of course, I am not permitted to come. To do that, without her specific authorization, would be more than my wretched life is worth. I bring myself as close to the brink as I dare, then hold out my stiff cock to be punished. The sentence is ten lashes of her whip to the offending organ. However, if I consider this too harsh, she graciously offers me the alternative of a single lash on my balls.”

Jason looked up at his wife, with imploring, puppy dog eyes that might have melted the heart of a lesser dominatrix.

“Mistress, not that!” he pleaded.

“You wrote that stuff, not me,” Suzanne replied, snatching the page from him and reaching for her whip. “Well, come on, do what you pride yourself on doing best. You can decide on your choice of punishment while you’re getting that silly little thing nice and hard. I’m a little disappointed that you failed to specify the precise nature of that punishment that would be more than your wretched life is worth, should you cum. I guess I’ll just have to use my imagination.” She whacked her whip on the smoked glass tabletop. “Come on, get that right hand working. Feel free to feast your eyes on me, if it helps. Or am I not quite as horny a vision as your beloved mistress?”

“Mistress, you know she isn’t real,” he pleaded.

Snatching up her cane, she leaped angrily to her feet. “You must learn to be far less impudent. Hold out your right hand.”

Jason hesitantly obeyed. Seizing his wrist, Suzanne brought the cane cracking down across his open palm. He cried out and attempted to pull back before she could strike again, but her grip was surprisingly strong. The cane raised and fell a further five times, with scarcely a pause in between, leaving his palm throbbing and blistered.

“Get back to what you were doing,” she told him. “Give me any more lip and you’ll find yourself over my knee.”

Her tone, reminiscent of a stern headmistress, sounded shockingly erotic to his ears. He winced when he clasped his fist around his semi-flaccid cock again. Suzanne sat back to enjoy the humiliating spectacle of him masturbating before her. He was glad that she had at least permitted him to feast his eyes. In all the years he had known her, she had never looked more strikingly gorgeous. His biggest regret was that he had not had the courage to take the initiative and present her with the erotic rubber ensemble, rather than waiting for her to unearth his fantasies, like a sordid secret life.

Despite the afterburn of the rear end thrashing that throbbed through every fiber of his body, he managed to stroke himself to full erection in a matter of moments. The old Suzanne would have been only too eager to pleasure him with her mouth at that stage, but the dominant version had no such accommodating intentions. The whip in her right fist was poised in readiness.

“Well, what’s it to be?” she demanded.

He knew it would be pointless to try to talk her out of inflicting the appropriate punishment, so he did not waste his breath. Instead, just as in the story, he held out his stiff cock, gripping it at the base between thumb and forefinger.

“Ten lashes of your whip, Mistress, if you would be so kind,” he whispered.

He shut his eyes and bit his lip, resolving that this time he would take what was coming to him like a man. He felt the breeze as the whip whizzed past his face, then the agonizingly sharp bite as it struck his cock. Instinctively, he tried to leap away from her.

“Stand still, or you get it in the balls,” Suzanne warned him, grabbing a tuft of pubic hair in her free hand.

Though brief, the whipping was even more painful than he had expected and left his red striped cock feeling extremely tender. Tucking her whip into her belt, his wife ordered him to pick up her paperwork and her other tools and follow her upstairs, to where another surprise was promised.

Suzanne had not spent all of her free time just reading his Mistress T diary. The smallest of the spare bedrooms had been converted into what was obviously a punishment chamber. The walls were decorated with pages from fem/dom magazines, which he immediately recognized as being from his own collection. He had to admire the effort she had put into unearthing all aspects of his “secret” passion. The center of the room was occupied by an old-fashioned school desk, which faced the headmistresses desk and the huge blackboard that practically covered one wall. A dozen canes of various lengths, textures and thicknesses hung from a nearby wooden rack. In one corner was a filing cabinet, with drawers intriguingly labeled Homework, Disciplinary Records, Confessions, Magazines and Examination Results.

“Well, what do you think?” she demanded, after he had obediently placed her papers and tools on her desk.

“You did all this yourself!” he exclaimed.

“My talents do extend beyond bookstore and kitchen,” she snapped. “As you can see, I’ve been quite busy these past few weeks. Your Mistress T work has proved very inspiring.” Grabbing a cane from the rack, she pointed to his desk. “Time for lesson one on the Mistress curriculum. Sit!”

Jason winced as he lowered his throbbing cheeks to the hard wooden chair seat. Suzanne strode up to the blackboard, picked up a stick of white chalk and wrote, in large letters – Mistress Is Always Right.

“What does that say?” she demanded, rapping the board with her cane.

“Mistress is always right,” said Jason.

She nodded. “The first and most important commandment. To ensure you never forget it, I want you to open your copybook and write it out, one hundred times. When you have finished, you will hand it up for correction.”

With that, she sat down behind her desk, put on her large, gold rimmed spectacles and began leafing through a hardcore male bondage magazine. She looked more like a stern schoolmistress than any authentic member of the breed Jason had ever encountered. Feeling like a naughty little schoolboy, he opened the copybook before him, picked up his quaint pen and dipped the nib in the inkwell. He was pathetically grateful that she had not decided to exercise her cane, at least for the time being.

As he carefully scrawled the words on the blue lined paper, he felt his aching cock stiffening once more. Just writing the line Mistress Is Always Right, over and over again, infused him with a perverse sense of excitement. Now that he was over the initial shock of his fantasies becoming unexpectedly reality, he could no longer deny the pleasurable side of his ordeal. Earlier, he had thought that the thrashing and enforced maid service might just have been Suzanne’s way of teaching him a lesson and that normal domestic life would soon be restored. One look at the room she had gone to such trouble to secretly prepare left him in no doubt that her plans for him were much more long-term.

Halfway through his hundred lines, he looked up at Suzanne. She seemed engrossed in her magazine, obviously picking up further tips for her new career in domination. Very carefully, he allowed his left hand to drop to his erect, whip burnt cock. He flinched when he touched it, but the pain was far more arousing than before. He cast another wary glance in Suzanne’s direction, but she appeared to have forgotten him. Beneath the desk, she had crossed her legs, leaving a mouth-watering expanse of creamy thigh flesh visible above the tops of her boots. Without interrupting the motion of his pen hand, Jason began gently stroking his cock. Never had a furtive wank felt more delightfully forbidden. The knowledge that he could be caught in the act at any second, with painful consequences, merely intensified the thrill. He imagined this was exactly how it would feel to play with himself as a real schoolboy, in a real classroom, only feet away from a genuine whack-happy headmistress.

As his excitement mounted and the pumping tempo of his left fist gradually increased, he had to force himself to concentrate on his lines, in between anxious glances at his Mistress. He knew he could not allow himself to ejaculate without giving the game away, yet he was no longer sure he could exercise such manful self-discipline. A few seconds later, Suzanne solved the problem for him.

“Stand up!” she barked, without raising her eyes from her magazine.

Jason’s hand recoiled, as if his cock had suddenly become a red-hot iron. Suzanne looked up then.

“I said stand up!” she shouted, rising from her chair.

His face the color of his rear cheeks, Jason rose slowly to his feet. Suzanne rapped her cane on the side of her right boot as she stepped towards him, her blue eyes ablaze with fury.

“Have you been playing with yourself in class?” she demanded.

She already knew the answer, of course. The evidence reared like a flagpole from between his thighs.

“Yes, Mistress,” he whimpered.

Suzanne tutted. “Aren’t you a silly boy! Go and stand in the corner, with your hands behind your head. I’ll deal with you in a minute.”

Sheepishly, he did as he was told. From a drawer of her desk, his Mistress took a pointed white paper cap, inscribed with a big red letter D, and placed it on his head. But if he thought that small act of humiliation was to be the total of his punishment, he discovered an instant later that he was sadly mistaken.

“There’s only one way to deal with a wretched, dirty little boy, who plays with his weener in class,” she announced. “This is going to hurt.”

She was not lying. Starting at the backs of his legs, she worked her way upwards with the cane, landing a blitz of vicious strokes that burned his skin bright red. Jason yelped and danced from foot to foot as the thin ash rod bit like a swarm of angry wasps. Suzanne scored practically every inch of his legs, before laying twenty whacks across his already scarlet colored buttocks. Before she had even finished, his tears were flowing freely and he was sobbing that he was sorry.

There was not the slightest hint of sympathy in Suzanne’s voice as she then ordered him to go up to the blackboard and write out one hundred times – I Will Not Play With Myself In Class Again.

Perched on the edge of her desk, she watched him carry out the exercise, threateningly flexing her cane. When it was finally completed, she told him to return to his desk and finish his original assignment. His buttocks throbbed so violently, he could scarcely bear to sit. Suzanne returned her full attention to her magazine, knowing there was no danger of him repeating the gross indiscretion for which he had just been so severely punished.

His wrist was aching by the time he nervously stepped up to her desk and presented his work for inspection. She first counted the lines, to make sure he had not been tempted to skip a few, then startled him by flinging the copybook at his feet.

“Is that supposed to be some kind of modern art?” she snarled. “A collage of scrawls and ink stains! How dare you hand up such disgracefully sloppy work!”

“Please don’t punish me again, Mistress,” he pleaded as she reached once more for her cane. “I’ll do better, I promise.”

“I should certainly hope so,” she replied. “Very well, I shall postpone your caning until tomorrow night’s class. For now, you can polish my chair with your tongue.”

The instant she stood up, Jason fell to his knees and eagerly set to work. The seat was warm from her ass and he felt a sensual tremor as he ran his tongue over the burgundy colored leatherette cushion. When he was finished, Suzanne sat down again, stretched out her long legs and directed him to polish her boots in a similar fashion. This task alone made all his previous punishments seem suddenly worthwhile.

“Now for your homework,” she said, finally pushing him away with the pointed toe of her right boot. “You will compose an essay of at least two-thousand words, detailing some of the pleasures you anticipate from your new role as my submissive plaything. I shall expect it to be ready for tomorrow night’s class.”

Jason accepted his assignment with delight. Merely composing the essay would be an exquisite pleasure in itself.

“I suggest you scurry off to your study and get to work on that,” said Suzanne. “I shall go through these Mistress T pages of yours and select something kinky for the bedtime menu.”