by Victor Bruno
She used to speak to me like that when she was telling me that I WOULD learn a subject, however difficult I might find it. It would, she used to say, be thrashed into me.
Well, she had kept her word then. And I had no reason to doubt that she would keep it now!
Her feet slipped into the high-heeled mules set beside the bedside.
“Get your bottom up, slave” she said crisply. “Well up, you’re getting half a dozen for your insolence. Half a dozen, good and hard. You can thank your stars it isn’t more.”
I handed her the cane before getting into position... and having to raise my head slightly, got a brief glimpse of her long, tapering white thighs and the dark brush that partially concealed her most intimate secrets. Then I knelt and stuck up my rear as she had commanded.
It felt very sore... and no doubt must have looked it, following the thrashing she had given me the previous evening. But such considerations had never weighed with Miss Dee. I felt her touch my buttocks lightly as she measured me, and couldn’t help flinching. She was right. I had got soft since the old days. Then, I would have considered six next to nothing; now my nates were clenching in anticipation.
Swwwwweee... pppttt!
The cane whistled down and bit. The agony of it burnt deep into my tender flesh. Miss Dee had said good and hard... and she certainly meant it. Despite my attempt to show manliness rather than boyishness, a yell of pain came from me, and I could not help twisting my bottom from side to side.
“Keep that backside up,” she said, “and straight.”
Her voice had that old, familiar edge to it, that brooked no delay. I thrust up, clenching my teeth.
Swwweee... pppttt!
Ah... how it hurt! It was worse even than I had remembered it. Perhaps that was largely because my buttocks were already so sore.
“Yee... oooowww!” I cried hating myself for doing so, but just not able to help it.
Swwweee... eeeppttt!
Harder still, it seemed. Certainly hurting even more. I would certainly kneel when I entered her presence in future!
“Aaaghhh ...owww ...!”
“You weakling,” she said derisively. “And didn’t I tell you to keep your bottom up?”
“Y-Yes, Miss... “ I answered.
In my mind’s eye, I could see her standing there behind me, beautifully naked, tall and commanding, flexing the rod.
“Then do so. Unless you want another half dozen. Do you?”
“N-No .. Miss,” I answered fervently.
Swwweee... eepppttt!
The fourth stroke bit deeply... and by a supreme effort, I managed to maintain my posture... even if I could not check my cry.
“What does a slave do when he first comes into the presence of his Mistress?”
“Kneel... Miss ...”
Ssswwweee... eeeeppppttt!
I got the fifth, delivered, I knew, with a full-blooded sweep of her arm. Miss Dee had lost none of her former strength or skill.
“Then remember it, slave ...”
Ssswwweee... eeeeppppttt!
“Yeeee... ooowwwwww ...!” I yelled.
The cane dropped on to the floor beside me.
“Put it back,” she ordered.
I slid it back under the bed. There it would lie until I had to fetch it for her. That, I sincerely hoped, would not he too soon!
“Stand up,” she said.
I stood up, wincing. God, those weals felt like red-hot wires. Did she realise how painful it was to be caned like that, especially on tender flesh? Foolish question, of course Miss Dee knew. That’s how she got results.
Her naked beauty was softly mobile before me as she reseated herself on the edge of the bed. She seemed quite unconcerned by what I could see of her... or the effect she must have known she was having on me. I tried not to gawp at her too obviously, but it was impossible to keep my eyes off her.
“I’ve got all the old instruments I had in the classroom,” she said, looking me up and down disdainfully. “Tawses, canes, a birch. Plus a few extra ones. Like riding-switches and a dog whip ...”
My blood seemed to freeze. I was going to have to be very, very careful. Very, very obedient.
“I shall have no hesitation in using them - any of them - as and when I think fit. And that will be if your behaviour and service do not come up to the highest standards I desire. Understood?”
“Yes, Miss,” I replied.
I understood very well. Miss Dee had never threatened idly in her life, that I knew.
“Come closer,” she ordered.
I stepped towards her, and to my delighted amazement, she opened her thighs so that I stood between them. I could actually feel them brushing against mine. It was an exquisite sensation and I think I must have actually trembled. This was my Goddess .. and I was close to her! What matter that she made me yell with pain? What matter that my weals throbbed so painfully? She was entitled to do whatever she like with me... me, her miserable... her worthless slave.
Then I realised she had taken a small key off the bedside table and she was unlocking my tubular ‘restrainer’. It slipped off and my flaccid penis emerged. I say flaccid, but it was still, in fact, somewhat swollen from my recent erection.
She took hold of it casually. As if I were an animal or an object, rather than a man.
“I think you’ve grown up in some ways more than others,” she said. “Although,” she added with a little smile, “your trousers were often nearly bursting whenever that Paula had to take her knickers down, weren’t they?”
“Yes, Miss,” I replied, finding myself flushing with those secret boyhood memories which she mentioned.
“Yes indeed, you fancied her, didn’t you?”
“Well... Miss... I mean... er... well ...”
“Well what?” she demanded.
“Well, she was... rather petty, I suppose ...”
“She had a very shapely posterior .. . and you know it,” said Miss Dee. “Just made for the rod, admit it.”
“Yes, Miss,” I nodded.
It was quite true. Paula had one of the most deliciously curvaceous bottoms I have ever seen.
The memory of that and the feel of Miss Dee’s hand still holding my organ was altogether too much. I could feel myself beginning to stiffen.
“Did you ever think of me in that way?” she asked, looking me straight in the eye.
“N-No... “ I blurted out at once, my eyes flinching away from hers. I felt my cheeks getting redder. Of course I had thought about her like that. Night after night. But how could I admit it?
“I... I beg pardon, Miss,” I said quickly. Oh God, what could I do, I’d have to admit it!
“Well?” she persisted.
“I... er... well .. Miss... sometimes... I did... I suppose, Miss,” I admitted. I don’t know why it was so terrible to say, but it was.
“Sometimes?”
“Er... quite often, miss,” I said. I HAD to tell the truth. Miss Dee had an uncanny knack of knowing when one wasn’t.
“Yes... I know that,” she said.
To my increasing embarrassment, her hand was squeezing my thickening penis... almost playing with it, indeed. I could do nothing but stand there, submitting to her touch. If that was what she wanted to do, it was not for me to do or say anything. Within a few minutes it had come to solid erection and my organ jerked under her touch.
The thought occurred to me that she might permit me relief in the fashion she had done the previous evening. My blood tingled.
“Yes, you’re certainly a man now,” she said, almost to herself. There was a tone of satisfaction in her voice, I thought... and a pang of unique joy went through me. It was the nearest yet that my Goddess had got to showing approval of me. I wanted to go down on my k
nees and worship her.
But then she peremptorily removed her hand.
“Go and run my bath, slave,” she said.
i gave a kind of quick bow and then hurried of into the bathroom which adjoined her bedroom. It was a luxurious affair, with a bath of black marble (almost large enough for two) set low in the floor. I turned on the tap, adjusting the water to a reasonable temperature.
The bathroom was delightfully scented with her soaps and perfumes. Her feminine presence was everywhere, and I revelled in it. It was an honour to be the slave of such a wonderful woman. So... I felt pain... so what? It was worth it.
My erection, I may say, had not subsided in the slightest!
Just as the bath filled, Miss Dee came naked into the bathroom. She pointed to the door at one side.
“Have you seen that my lavatory is clean, slave?” she asked.
“No, Miss,” I answered. Well, I hadn’t been told to do that. I felt nothing about the indignity of being asked to do such a thing. To do anything for my mistress was an honour.
“That is something you will do first, every morning,” she said.
“Yes, Miss,” I said and hurried away to do her bidding.
The lavatory pan and the seat seemed spotless, but I cleaned and polished them again just to make sure. Then, when I left, Miss Dee made her entrance... and I left to await her in the bathroom. Standing there, for one wild moment, I wondered if she might demand a more intimate service of me before she left the lavatory. To use my tongue upon her, maybe? I would willingly, lovingly, have done so!
But no such menial service was required of me.
In due time Miss Dee emerged, and slid herself into the warm water.
“Have you put in bath oil?” she asked.
“No, Miss ...”
“Well, you will always do so in future.” She pointed to a jar with some yellow liquid in it on a shelf. “Do it now ...”
I rose and fetched the jar, pouring in the scented oil. She smoothed some of it over her breasts, sighing contentedly, eyes half closed. Oh my God... she was lovely! So ravishing, so desirable, it made me tremble. So near, yet so far!
“Soap me, slave”, she said drowsily.
I could hardly believe my ears, or my luck!
I picked up the oval lozenge of pink soap. Where should I begin? I dare not touch those luscious breasts... where my fingers longed to dwell... so I began with those smooth, marble-white shoulders. Dare I touch those breasts? Then Miss Dee moved, sitting erect. The sight of the movement of her breasts filled me with lust. Before me my erection throbbed and swung enormously. How could I help that?
“Soap my back,” she said.
I soaped the lovely curve of it... down... down... to the swell of her hips.
Oh the delight in doing it! Oh how I adored her!
“Now my breasts,” she said suddenly, lying back again.
Did she know what she was doing to me? Did she know how she was tormenting me? Perhaps she did. But it made no difference. I was her slave. There to do her bidding.
Nervously I ran the soap over the smooth orbs. Then my hands and fingers soaped them. Oh how delicious they felt! Oh how wonderful it was to feel them at last! After all those years.
There I was, touching my Goddess most intimately. Hardly daring to hope I would be allowed to continue, I went on soaping and gently squeezing the breast flesh. Heaven!
“Enough,” she said. “Lower down ...”
Could she mean it? Yet I dare not disobey. As if I wanted to!
My hand and the soap went under the water... down over her belly... down to the softness of that dark bush. Yes... I was actually touching it! Then I felt the thighs floating apart... felt my hand going there... there!
Gently, so gently, I rubbed. Then down the thighs. Then back again. Cleansing her softly. Loving her. Adoring her. Her slave!
“That will do,” she said suddenly.
I stopped at once, standing up. My erection was a positive embarrassment. She gave it a glance as she stood erect, her white body glistening with the water.
“Towel,” she ordered.
I draped her in a huge soft bath towel and she wriggled in it happily, like a kitten on a rug.
“Empty the bath,” came her next order.
I did as I was told while she continued to dry herself.
“Powder me ...”
The towel dropped to reveal her divine loveliness again. With pounding heart I took the talc jar and puffed the scented dust over her body. She stood there queenly and disdainfully... obviously quite unconcerned with the intensity of my desire. Oh... oh... if only she had shown me, by look or word, some little token of affection.
“Re-fill the bath, slave” she suddenly said. “With cold water.”
My heart shrank. So... that was to be my lot, was it?
The water flowed in fast. I stood there while she combed her hair; adoring her, in dread of her. When the bath was nearly full I turned off the tap.
“Get in,” she ordered. “Perhaps that will cool you off a little.”
Gasping, I lowered myself into the water. It seemed icy, though of course, it wasn’t. I lay there shuddering, chilled to the marrow . Then Miss Dee casually stepped from the bathroom.
How long was she going to leave me there? Needless to say I dare not move until she gave the order. I got colder and colder, my teeth beginning to chatter. Soon, my erection had quite disappeared. That, I suddenly realised, must have been her basic intention... for, when she came back into the bathroom (now wearing a flimsy negligee) she carried a leather restrainer in her hand. It was not of the type which I had worn at night, with a steel tube, but simply a sort of leathern jock-strap.
“Get out,” she said.
I got out, shivering, the flesh of my bottom feeling both taut and sore.
“Dry yourself,” she said.
Without thinking, I took hold of the towel she had used... and instantly got a smashing slap across the face. I saw stars.
“How dare you use my things!” she spat. Then she pointed to a coarse, small towel in the far corner of the bathroom. “Use that.”
I rubbed myself dry as best as I could, still shivering. When I had done she put the restrainer on me, fastening it tight and padlocking it on.
“You’re not going around all day looking like a rampant ape,” she said.
“I... I’m sorry, Miss ...”
“Shut up,” she said.
“I beg pardon, Miss ...”
Another slap smashed across my face.
“I told you to shut up!” she snapped.
This time I remained silent. When my Mistress issued an order, she obviously meant it!
“Out!”
Her pointed slipper-mule kicked me up the backside... and I hurried back into the bedroom.
“Get down to the kitchen,” she ordered as she followed me there. “Prepare me a breakfast and bring it back here on a tray. You’ll find all the instructions waiting for you. And a list of your chores for the day.”
“Yes, Miss,” I said bowing.
My Mistress was already sliding back into the warm comfort of her bed and picking up a novel.
“Don’t be long,” was her final order.
***
Luckily for me, as I had lived a bachelor life, I was reasonably adept at cooking... and undertaking chores generally. All the same I took extra care with that first meal I prepared for my Mistress. Was this to be the pattern of my life, I wondered? If she so decreed, so be it.
Within twenty minutes, I was back in the bedroom, carrying the breakfast on a tray. Miss Dee did not even bother to look at me, or the meal I had prepared. One finger pointed at the bedside table while she continued reading. I put down the tray and then stood await
ing her orders.
“Get out,” she said. “Eat something yourself, then get on with the chores listed.”
“Yes, Miss,” I said.
There was nothing else to do but bow, turn and go.
***
The chores were not particularly arduous, but they were certainly humiliating for a man to have to do. Particularly for a man of my intellectual standing. Had Miss Dee made me work so mentally hard simply to make me into a physical drudge?
I worked hard all morning, including preparing a lunch according to my Mistress’s instructions. Meanwhile, she had gone out shopping. All the time my mind was filled with memories of her lovely body with had been so tauntingly displayed to me. But more the tight restriction of the leather restrainer, I would have worked most of the morning in full erection, I am sure!
When Miss Dee returned about one o’clock, she made a cursory inspection of my domestic efforts... and then, fortunately, made no comment about them. Perhaps she was surprised I had done as well as I had. If so, she did not show it.
I made her a dry martini when she unpacked and then was sent off to put the items she had bought away in her bedroom. There were enchanting feminine frillies over which my fingers lingered lovingly. Indeed, I buried my nose in them and kissed them lovingly.
After lunch I was given permission to retire to my own bleak room for a break.
“I’ll ring for you when I want you,” said Miss Dee.
I lay on my bed in an agony of frustration. My mind was filled with images of her naked beauty... yet the restrainer completely inhibited my natural instincts. Miss Dee certainly knew how to keep control of a man, even at a distance!
***
At about three-thirty, the bell rang. The indicator showed it was Miss Dee’s bedroom, and I hurried to it. This time I had enough sense to go down on my knees after she had bidden me enter.
She was lounging in a chair, wearing a brief pink and black bra and pantie set, a suspender belt which held up a pair sheer black stockings, and high-heeled shoes.
“Come here,” she ordered.
