by Victor Bruno
“Yes... yes, Miss Dee,” I answered.
She was, indeed. It meant that if I did not please her under this new form of ‘education’, she would thrash me with even greater mercilessness than she had ever done in the past! This was something that filled me not only with fear but an indescribable delight. I was her slave again... and she was my Goddess, as he had always been! I looked at those high, thrusting breasts under the blouse, I looked at those long thighs. And I recalled her -so vividly! - in that brief, skin-fitting leotard. And this magnificent woman was to be my teacher! I had a desire to go down and prostrate myself at her feet.
“You will now go to your room, John,” she said. Already her social tone had gone; there was the iron of authority in her voice again. I accepted it as something quite natural and stood up at once. “It is at the end of the corridor. To the left. There is a ‘J’ on the door. That is the room in which you will stay and sleep unless I instruct otherwise. There is a bell-indicator in there, connected to each room in the apartment. You will come to me at once whenever and whatever bell rings, night or day ...”
“Yes, Miss... “ Already I was aching to serve; to submit. ..
“Go there now, John. Remove your clothes. All of them. And wait for me to summon you.”
I turned, still in a daze and left the room. As I went down the corridor I could feel myself already half in erection. Was it possible that I was to lose my virginity that very night? And lose it to my Goddess? The idea was scarcely to be borne. My mind was in a turmoil.
But, as it turned out, I might more sensibly have calmed my fevered brain... and kept my expectant exultations on a far lower plane!
***
The room was comfortable, but not luxurious in the way that the rest of the apartment was. It was what you might describe as a typical bachelor’s bed-sitter, with a bed, a tallboy, a desk, shelves of books. A glance at these showed that my arrival had been both expected and planned. Books on Ancient, Modern and Oriental languages abounded, as well as numerous other works which could be described as ‘heavy’.
Instantly I felt a sense of ‘belonging’ there. This was to be my new home, from where I would serve my Goddess as she commanded. Which was the height of my desires.
I took off my clothes slowly and folded them carefully. It was a strange but exhilarating experience to stand there, naked, in such unfamiliar surroundings. A full length mirror drew me to it and I examined my body. Not without some satisfaction. Despite my lack of sporting activity I had filled out well in the muscular sense. Also I was aware that I was what is termed ‘well-hung’ in the sexual sense... even though that fact was over-emphasised by the fact that I was still half in erection. Instinctively I found myself feeling and fondling my organ, and it hardened further. I took a grip on my surging emotions and stopped. It would be highly embarrassing to face Miss Dee naked for the first time in a state of full erection.
How long would she keep me waiting? What did she intend to do? The thoughts and fantasies raced through my mind, and my excitement increased. this was the kind of situation I had had often enough dreamed about in the past... in my lonely days... and that it had become an actuality was still difficult to comprehend fully.
The time dragged. I wandered about aimlessly, my nerves at a stretch. I tried to envisage exactly what form this new ‘education’ would take, but gave up the struggle.
I jumped as a bell rang, and my heart started to race. The indicator high up on one wall showed that the summons came from Room 3. The moment had come.
Over the deep pile carpet I padded down the corridor, examining the number on each door. 6... 4... 5... then, at the end of the corridor, No. 3! I knocked and waited, just as I had done so often outside a certain study door - what seemed an age ago. Oh God ... if only I could stop trembling... if only those butterflies in the stomach would settle.
“Come in ...”
I opened the door and stepped into what was obviously Miss Dee’s personal bedroom. The same sort of luxurious drapes and furnishings as the living room. Yet more feminine. More over-poweringly feminine. That I took in, but only in a secondary sense, for it was Miss Dee who claimed my attention. She wore some sort of lacy, black negligee which hung half open to expose the upper part of her magnificent breast, and reached only a little way down her long thighs. There was nothing at all, I sensed, beneath that flimsy garment... and she was shod in a pair of black mules, edged with fur, with high stiletto heels.
In her hands, being gently flexed, was the whippy rattan rod which had tormented me so often at the school.
The shaft of fear which lanced through me was like a cold douche on my surging lust. In that moment I knew that pain was to take precedence over any pleasure I might receive. At least, that was how it would be at the outset. Yet even that shaft of fear was accompanied by a tingling of perverse excitement...
“Stand there,” ordered my former, yet now re-styled, dominatrix. “Back straight... legs astride... and clasp your hands on the back of your neck.” She spoke with her familiar cool authority in a voice that expected instant obedience.
I obeyed.
Then she slowly circled me, eyeing me carefully and objectively from head to foot, in silence. My nerves were raw, my flesh kept flinching... for at any moment I expected that rod to cut across me.
“You have developed somewhat, John,” she said at last. “Not least of all here...” To my shocked embarrassment she lightly flicked my half-erect organ with the tip of the rod. “Have you been playing with yourself while you’ve been waiting?”
“No, Miss,” I answered, going hot and cold at such a personal question.
Miss Dee nodded. “Just natural exuberance,” she said formally. “Well, that is understandable, but it is one of the things which will have to be curbed. Let me state here and now - at the outset - that you will NEVER play with yourself unless you receive direct instructions from me. Understood?”
“Yes, Miss,” I answered, flushing deeply. My God, I thought, that’s going to be difficult to abide by!
“If you do, John,” she continued in a brittle voice, “and I find out, I shall give you such a good hiding that I swear you’ll have to take to your bed for a week. I want to make that as clear as I possibly can. It is a paramount factor in your new training. Let there be no mistake about it, right?”
“I... I understand, Miss,” I quavered.
“The reason is,” continued Miss Dee, “that from this moment on you are under my CONTROL in the sexual sense. As well as others of course. I shall maintain that control by my directives and by mechanical means, as and when necessary. That is the first rule I lay down; but there will be others to follow.”
“Yes, Miss,” I said. Oh how anxious I was to please! She moved closer to me and the exotic scent of her caught my nostrils. The white orbs of her naked breasts were near enough to touch. Her dark eyes had an oily liquidity about them. She radiated her dominance over me. Suddenly I was aware that I was stiffening to full erection... and could do nothing about it.
“You always were randy - even as a boy,” said Miss Dee. “I can well recall how your trousers used to bulge when that young Paula had to take her knickers down. Lucky for you I was tolerant of your youthful lusting.”
I found myself flushing even deeper at the embarrassing truth of her statement. There was nothing I could say.
“Well, John,” she continued, “this is the beginning of your new course. And you know my methods. I consider it important that I impress on you the completeness of my authority over you, just as I did when you first came to the school. A good lesson at the outset will convince you that, in a sense, you are back where you started... and act as a cautionary reminder of the sort of thing that is in store for you if you displease me in the weeks and months to come.”
That so-familiar mixture of dread-delight began to throb through me. It
was going to happen... just as it had happened so often before. I was in her power and there was nothing I could do about it. Yet now I was truly a grown man. I must behave as a man! But how could I? Oh could I? For I had not experienced pain of the kind Miss Dee could produce since I had left the school.
“I am going to cane you, John,” she was saying in her relentless way. “Good and hard. I recall... and no doubt so do you... that early in your former career I gave you eighteen strokes the like of which you had never known before. You may not have been aware of it then, but that was the beginning of your reformation. Now that you are a man... and stronger... I intend to give your twenty-four. You will remember this evening just as you still remember that afternoon.”
I felt a freezing inside me. Twenty-four! Oh God, I couldn’t take that. Not after such a lapse of time. Yet I knew I was going to have to. I tried to keep control of my features; strove to summon up my will and resolve, as I had finally managed to do during the latter days at the school.
Miss Dee moved across the room and tapped the back of a heavy armchair which was set near the end of her double bed.
“Bend over this,” she said.
Only my former training and the fantastic power she held over me enabled me to obey without protest or delay. In view of what was coming, what normal being would not have hesitated? The back of the chair thrust into my belly, forcing up my rump in a curve. I think I even began to pray for some sudden extra strength and will-power to be given me. A plea almost came to my lips, but pride forced it back. I was a man now, not a boy, and she was but a woman.
But a woman. Oh folly to think of her as some normal, gently and yielding feminine creature!
“Hands over the sides,” she ordered.
I dropped my arms and hands over the arms of the chair... and found her cording my wrists to the front castors. The cords were thick and silky soft, but they secured my arms helpless for all that. Panic gripped me momentarily as it had done so often in my life at the realisation that I was utterly powerless to resist anything she wished to do to me. Yet, as she completed the binding and moved round to the back of the chair, my erection was ramming stiff and hard into the upholstery.
“Make as much noise as you like, John,” she said cooly, “these walls are fully sound proofed.”
Then, at a slow measured pace, she began to cane me with the whippy rattan.
In seconds it was as if I was an inexperienced eighteen-year old again... for the pain of the biting rod was far worse than even I had been letting myself think it would be. It was unbelievable, unbearingly intense, just as it had been on that occasion long ago when Miss Dee had given me the first serious thrashing of my life.
I yelled uninhibitedly as each stroke whiplashed across my rump, and twisting and turning uncontrollably as I did, she caught me fair and square each time. And with all the force of which she was capable. Which was considerable!
After little more than half a dozen, I was not only yelling, I was begging her to stop. To ease up for a few moments anyway ...
“I’m a man now!” I yelled at her, twisting round to see her towering behind me, the cane upraised, her magnificent body so scantily hidden by the black negligee.
“But you’re acting like a boy again,” she retorted derisively. “My God, you’ve got soft in the last year or two, John. You’d have taken these better in the old days.”
True enough... but it was cold comfort to me at that moment. Miss Dee, once my Governess but now my Mistress (in the dominating sense) continued to cane me with relentless vigour. Above my own gasping yells, I could hear her grunt as she cracked each stroke down across my writhing hindquarters. By the time she was laying on the last six - just a vigorously as the first - I was not simply begging her to stop, I was beseeching her for mercy.
As ever, none was forthcoming.
When it was at last over, I found my breath rasping hoarsely. I was as near to sobbing as made no difference. And though it would not be correct to say I was actually blubbing, there was a water film over my eyes.
“Oh God... oh dear God ...” I heard myself moaning, feeling the incessant agonising throb of those criss-crossing weals.
And this was what I could expect in future if I did not please my Mistress!
So I would HAVE to please her... I would HAVE to obey her... I would HAVE to submit to her will and her whims. On a different plain, it was just like it had been in my early days under her tutelage. As she had just said, in a sense, I was back to where I had started.
Yet... yet .. there was a difference ...
For now there was the sexual element. Oh yes, undeniably there was. Mercilessly though I may have been thrashed, my manhood had in no way been reduced. Stiff as a ramrod, my organ still pressed into the back of the chair over which I had been tied.
Beyond that, Miss Dee was as naked as made no difference... and I was in her bedroom.
Beyond that again, although the pain had been and still was immediately atrocious, there was a deep, inner-burning glow of submissive delight at being so dominated by my beautiful Goddess.
To be made to suffer by her...
To be at her mercy...
To be in her power...
Ah yes, to be in her power again! That was perhaps where the deepest pleasure of all resided. For her to be my Mistress. I to be her slave.
Pain there would be. Yes... yes... I knew that. Pain in plenty. But there would be perverse pleasures too. The pleasures that are born out of pain.
As I lay there, striving to regain a grip in myself, and put on a manly front, I think I realised fully for the first time, the true submissiveness of my nature.
Yes... I was a natural submissive who had been moulded into a greater submissiveness. Who had learned to love to submit. Who had come to delight in grovelling at the feet of a woman rather than conquering her.
In short, I was a masochist.
Not only did I now know it, I accepted it. With a strange kind of joy!
Chapter 7
Miss Dee had released me from the chair. I knelt before her, head bowed. Below me were the black, high-heeled mules. The uppers seemed to be made of velvet but the heels were shiny, tapering spikes of what looked like ebony. Somehow they symbolised the softness of her womanly body and the contrasting hardness of her character.
“Yes, John,” she said from above me. “You’ve certainly got soft since you left me.”
“I’m sorry, Miss,” I said humbly. How wonderful it was to be again at the feet of the woman I worshipped, even if the fiery havoc she had wrought across my rump was well-nigh intolerable.
“Still... I do admit it was a pretty good hiding,” she said.
Pretty good! What would she consider severe?
“And... and an undeserved one ...” I ventured.
“Don’t you dare speak to me like that,” she said sharply. “Ever again, slave ...”
She emphasised the final word. Oh yes... I had indeed become her slave!
“I... beg pardon, Miss,” I said, adapting quickly to my new status.
“It is I who decide whether you deserve to be thrashed or not,” she continued. “Also, in any case, it is my prerogative to thrash you whether you deserve it or not. You have no say whatsoever in such matters, slave.”
“I... I understand, Miss.”
“You are here for special training,” she went on, quite overriding me. “And you are here to serve, please and satisfy me. All those things you will do. You know it. Because you know, from of old, that I have the will and the power to make you. Is that not so, John?”
“Yes, Miss,” I answered. My head was still submissively bowed, though I longed to raise it and let my eyes travel up those long limbs... up and up to even greater delights beyond.
“You will kiss the rod,” she said, “as a sign of your
complete submission to me... and to give thanks for a renewal of your disciplinary regime. Also as a sign that you consider it an honour to have me as your Dominatrix.”
The rattan cane was extended before me and I kissed it up and down its length with slavish devotion, thinking all the time of what she had just said. In those moments I truly submitted and, indeed, gave thanks just as she had commanded.
“While your backside is smarting nicely,” she continued, as my lips ran up and down the springy rod, “it is a good time to remind you that, if you disobey or displease me in the future, it will smart similarly. Or, quite possibly worse. You are older now, and considerably tougher - or soon will be - so you know what you can expect for failure. You also know, John, that I never threaten idly. If I say something, I mean it.”
“Yes, Miss,” I mumbled, mouth still pressing.
The heat in my loins, as well as my rump, seemed to have increased. My root was a solid bone of throbbing desire for her, and my being had begun to glow with an exquisite excitement.
Perhaps now... soon... after that cruel initiation... I was going to be ordered to partake of another initiation, an initiation almost too wonderful to contemplate. An initiation into the divine mysteries of womanhood!
I knelt there, burning with an incredible lust. So fierce was it that I told myself that I did not care if my Goddess thrashed me day in, day out, if only she would let me take part in that second initiation.
A male virgin ready to be sacrificed on the altar of female desire!
“Stand up, John,” she said.
I got up stiffly and slowly to my feet. Oh it hurt... it hurt! There she was, just before me, looking as cool and controlled as ever. No... that is not quite correct. Her luminous eyes had lost that lazy, oily look. Now they looked hard and bright.