Some FLR stories

Friday, 12 August 2016

About Me and F/M Domestic Discipline stories

Hello,

I'm a British gentleman who believes in Female Led Relationships and Female Led Domestic Discipline (which forms a backdrop in my life). I believe that women who spank and punish their menfolk speak to us on an essential level that makes our relationships much deeper, and easier.

As a writer of novels, I devote some of my work time to creating romantic, relationship-focused stories that explore this form of the female/male dynamic. I hope you will take a look at some and enjoy this special connection between women and men.

Many thanks for reading,

T.M. Andred




Kindle Stories

(The blue story TITLE is the link the ebook)




ANNA - When Jonathon finds his way to the door of "the woman who lives in the big house down the lane", his chance to solve an old mystery re-presents itself.

Anna is a quirky lady with a unique past and present and pleased to find a curious young man outside her home, she invites him into her world - a world where men are trained to be better husbands.

And since Jonathon is unmarried, he becomes more than just a curiosity for this strict lady. He might just be a personal project - one to hold onto.

This story has been re-edited by Kivutar Amy Koski, who enjoyed it so much she wanted to make it better. Something I found flattering and so happily acknowledge it here with gratitude. It is also my own personal favourite and creating, or rather discovering 'Anna' was fascinating.

(Contains severe caning scenes, sexual play with adult school-girl/boy uniform themes and knicker fetishism - 13,000 words).






MEETING MARY - Simon is introduced to the enigmatic Mary, the owner and boss of a local temping agency, at a dinner party. The following Monday he finds himself at an interview with a difference: Mary has many questions for him to answer, and each one is assisted with a cane stroke. As he falls under the spell of a woman unlike any he has ever met before, he starts to hope there may be more than a job in his future.

This story is also published in my four story collection, Her Guiding Hand (below), under the title The Disciplinary Boss. However, this version has also been edited by fellow author Kivutar Amy Koski and therefore is republished here, and under its original title of Meeting Mary.


My plan is to add a Part Two at a later date and turn it into a full length, romantic, female led discipline novella. Please add your email to the mailing list if you want to know when part two is published.

(Contains a severe caning scene and rubber underwear references - 4900 words).






HER GUIDING HAND

Four romantic stories of female-led domestic discipline.

An English School-Reunion - When Timothy returns to his old boarding school to get copies of his exam results, he finds that Catherine (the formidable and quirky sixth former from his youth) is now headmistress. In turn she finds that he had left before a final caning could be administered and resolves to balance the books. However, she does more than rekindle the fire in Timothy’s bottom; she rekindles his affection for her too. But can he match her standards?

A Female Led Wedding - A new bride has a surprise for her husband: a large wooden hairbrush gifted to her from her aunt. She decides the best time to introduce it is between the ceremony and the reception. So, following the advice of her aunt (and her uncle), she explains to her new husband that he is going to be a disciplined husband, in a female led marriage. As much as this is a surprise to him, his response is equally a surprise for her.

Christmas Day - Can Matthew make it through Christmas Day without incurring his wife’s wrath? He thinks he has everything planned and covered. Unfortunately, he has forgotten a little racing bet he placed with a friend, against his wife’s orders. When the winnings arrive, he loses - not his wife, just his ability to sit.

The Disciplinary Boss - At a dinner party Simon is introduced to the enigmatic Mary, the boss of a local temping agency. The following Monday he finds himself at an interview with a difference. Mary has many questions for him to answer, and each one is assisted with a cane stroke.

(Severe caning, 14,200 words).






Jonathon, The Women's Council, and Sarah's Mother - Jonathon’s mother has moved with him a small American town with a difference: It's run by women who don’t hesitate to discipline the males in their community. So when Jonathon offends a girl the events cause him to have to face the town's Christian Women’s Council and take the consequences. They convince him of the error of his ways, painfully, and open his heart and mind to not only his own faults but the benefits of living in a community where the women watch over the men. Inspired by obvious care as well as their strict discipline, he seeks out the girl he upset to make amends and try to convince her that his boorish comments came from nervous affection for her. However, to win his love, Jonathon finds he has to get passed her mother – the Minister’s formidable wife.

This one is a favourite of the South African actress Yvonne van den Bergh and part of it appears on her Fetlife profile - Mistress Baton.

(Contains elements of Christian scripture as well as severe female led domestic discipline and various forms of corporal punishment - 12,600 words).






THE SCHOOL MATRON, UNRETIRED - Another story that has been very popular, this one tells about London college student Simon who heads to the coast for the summer holidays. Chance leads him to the door of retired British school matron, Miss Stevens. A stickler for cleanliness, manners and a formidable disciplinarian, Miss Stevens takes the young man in cautiously. However, as they get to know each other, Miss Stevens sees that Simon craves maternal authority and Simon finds that his new landlady, an old school matron of many years experience, knows just how to provide it.


(Contains descriptions of severe spanking, caning - 10,000 words).






HOW IT ALL BEGAN - In this 20,000 word novella, a young couple find each other through the gift of loving domestic discipline. The story tells of twenty two year old David, who has been dropped by his college and now works in his father's store. He doesn't want to be there and his frustration and bad manners makes the customers feel the same way. However, not all of them are prepared to put up with it, and when three female teachers decide to take his attitude, and his dyslexia, under their wing, more than good behavior and college success develops. For one of the teachers, the youngest, is already secretly in love with him and desperately wants him to notice her - even if she has to spank her way to his heart.






THE LANDLADY'S WAY - When David accepts an invitation to board with Miss Eleanor, he finds more than he expected. She is a lady who spanks young males, and spanks them hard. Especially when she finds out it is something they think they'd like.

(This story is fiction, but is inspired by a real life disciplinarian, living - and spanking - in England. She gave the author the hardest spanking he ever received and taught him what real discipline is).







WOMEN CANING MEN - Two short stories of men being caned by the women of their dreams – or nightmare.

His First Visit - Sebastian has finally summoned up the courage to visit a professional disciplinarian for a real caning. She gives him just that and learns all about him along the way – information she has good reason to want to know. She also shows him that while a ‘real’ caning can hurt, a 'punishment' caning is an altogether different matter. Moreover, she has a surprise up her sleeve, one that will really teach him what a woman caning a man is really all about.


The Headmistress is a quirky story that takes the reader not just step by step through a caning, but also examines the lady’s motivations as she literally narrates her way throughout it. Her quarry, Simon, finds himself facing the dark, dragon cane of a very severe lady. Readers may enjoy the twist in the tail of this tale.

(Severe caning scenes, 6,800 words).






HER CHRISTIAN DUTY - When Matthew meets Rose, he knows she is the woman of his dreams. The only problem is she is looking for a good Christian man and he lost his faith long ago. So he does what most men do - he lies. But Rose is no fool and soon his secret is out, and shortly afterwards so is her old spanking hairbrush. However, Matthew is lucky, for Rose has grown to love him and decided to make him into the man of her own dreams - and if it renews the fire of his faith along the way, then she has no qualms about that either.





Recidivist, where are you?

The below piece of text is from a real life DD blog called ‘Not What I had in Mind’ which is sadly now gone. It was one of the best DD blogs I saw and this part in particular is interesting for any couple thinking of a DD relationship.

I think it is too good to lose and am sharing it here for others. I’ve tried to contact the author to check if he minds if I put this up but have not been able. (If you do see it, R., and don’t want it up, please let me know).

This is the first part of it, where he explains how he was a man who loved giving spankings and wanted his girlfriend to let him spank her. But it turned out she had quite the opposite idea.




The day my life changed

The day my life changed I had promised to take K out for a special dinner. We'd been arguing a bit more than usual and I wanted to get things back on track.

The evening did not start well. I was late, K had gone to a lot of trouble to look nice and was put out to be sitting around waiting. My inability to be anywhere on time was a common theme in our rows.

Things got worse when we got to the restaurant. It was up a flight of steps. Going up ahead of us was a blond supermodel with the longest (best) legs I'd ever seen and wearing one of the worlds shortest dresses. The further she went up the steps, the more you could see. I stopped moving and just looked up. K carried on 3 or 4 steps ahead of me until she realized I was not following her, turned around and saw me gaping up, slack jawed.

If looks could kill. Total disgust was putting it mildly.

Sometimes you need a bit of luck to salvage a situation like this. I didn't get any.

If our waiter had been a 50 year old man I might have been able to settle myself and regain my composure, but our waiter was a waitress. Not in the supermodel league, but pretty and with absolutely wonderful breasts in a low cut top.

I was still flustered by the incident on the steps and made a complete hash of trying to order, our helpful waitress lent forward to try and help me with the menu. This just made things worse. I wasn't really looking at her breasts that much, but it was hard to avoid them and my inability to string two words together gave K the wrong impression and things got distinctly chilly around our table.

I pulled out all the stops and by the end of the starters things were turning around and it was looking like being an OK night after all.

Then as we were finishing the main course, another supermodel type (what was this place, a harem), a brunette this time, crossed the room. Millions of years of genetic programming kicked in and my head rotated to follow her. She was stunning.

There was a loud clattering behind me, K had thrown her knife down on her plate.

"What did I just say?"

"Errr sorry, missed the last bit. I was........"

".....Oggling at that girl who just walked past? I really have just about had enough of this. If I catch you doing that again tonight I'm going to tan your backside for you when we get home."

Wooooooo. I was not expecting that at all. Being paranoid as I am, my first reaction was that K had finally rumbled me and that this was some sort of trap, a game designed to make me reveal myself, or worse a joke at the expense of my "secret".

Relax I told myself, lots of straight people use terms like that as figure of speech, she's just letting you know she's irritated.

I was left to ponder on K's comment when she stalked off to the cloakroom a few minutes later. It had unsettled me, I don't like the idea of someone getting too close to working me out.

I watched K coming back to the table and noticed several heads turn as she went by, she did look wonderful and it did occur to me that I may not have remembered to tell her that yet.

We were finishing coffee, I was still fretting about what K had said and what she might be up to and hoping my nightmare evening had stabilised when the blond from the front steps earlier walked towards us on her way out. She'd been having dinner with her better looking younger sister who was wearing only slightly more clothes than her sister.

"DON'T LOOK ROUND. WHATEVER YOU DO, DON'T LOOK; KEEP LOOKING STRAIGHT AT K"

The command from the rational part of my brain screamed at the rest of my body. Sadly, as we all know, the instinctive part of our brain works much faster. Its been that way ever since cave men had to dodge saber toothed tigers. Survival of the human race has depended of the speed of these instinctive reactions.

It was too late. The neck and head that my rational brain tried to control had already rotated. When they did get control I snapped back around, the jerkiness of this movement only made it even more obvious what had happened.

K flipped.

"Fine, that does it. I warned you. You just earned yourself a dam good hiding."

We left the restaurant pretty quickly and although I tried to make diverting chirpy conversation,it was a pretty silent trip home. All the way home all I could think was that K was playing some sort of trick, a game to trap me and that the most important thing I had to do was not give myself away. The fact that she might be genuinely, and justifiably pissed off with me and completely serious simply did not cross my mind.

When we got home K stormed off into the bedroom and quickly came back with one of her sandals - "Roman sandals" some people call them - its basically just a flat piece of leather the shape of your foot with a little loop for your toes - a sort of flip flop, but heavy, stiff leather, not soft rubber.

She grabbed a chair and dragged into the middle of the room. I watched somewhat helpless.

"I did not spend a fortune on a new outfit and take an hour and a half getting ready to have you spend the whole evening goggling at other women. I warned you what would happen and now you need to learn some manners.......or would you rather head back to the restaurant and try to hook up with you blond friend?"

"Ummm....now look she's not my friend........I'm sorry OK........it was......"

"I'm not interested, come here"

K's voice had risen several octaves, she was almost shrieking now. She's normally so together. The fact that she was this wound up should have had more impact on me but I was still convinced this was a trap. K grabbed my arm and pulled me towards her, sitting down on the chair now. She began pulling at my belt, loosening my pants.

"Do you have any idea how demeaning it is to find yourself talking to the back of someones head while he looks up someone else's dress?" My trousers were down and my shorts were following.

I didn't want to overreact and have this become some undignified wrestling match, soon the game would be over, the best thing to do was play along and then try to laugh it off.

A sharp tug on my arm, a stumble another tug and there I was, draped over K's lap. This was a joke right?

"Basic good manners is not a lot to expect"

SMACK. The sandal landed sharply.

I'd developed the art of concealing my interest in spanking to such a high state that I effectively blocked out the hefty whacks that K was landing for quite some time, so determined was I to do nothing to give myself away - play it straight, laugh it off afterwards ............. Finally it sunk in that this was not a joke, K was really smacking very hard and showing no sign of stopping. This was really starting to hurt.

When the mental floodgates broke, they did so with a complete and uninhibited rush - I wriggled, kicked, OOOhed, Ouched, pleaded and apologized through the rest of a thoroughly good spanking.

When it was over and I got to my feet, I just stood there, my pants round my ankles, both hands rubbing my bottom, thoroughly contrite. I'd had a good taste of my own medicine, and although it did not occur to me until some while later, one that I deserved.

I'd spent months trying to get K interested in spanking. I'd succeeded, but this was most definitely not quite what I had in mind.

R


Denial


That first spanking turned the world completely on its head for me.

I may have been secretive about what I was, but I was at least I was entirely, totally and utterly clear about what I was.

Well I had been.

It was like being straight all your life and then discovering you were gay (not that there is anything wrong with being gay, it would just come as a bit of a shock thats all).

K's behavior did not help my neurosis. She behaved completely normally, didn't tease me or make jokes at my expense or suddenly try to start bossing me about. She just carried on as if nothing had happened.

But something had happened.

I saw her as little as possible over the next few days but became increasingly convinced we needed to talk about it, this was NOT what I wanted to be into at all and I needed to make that clear.

The less K talked about it, the harder it was for me to. The ball was firmly in my court.

So I started to work up a "Now listen, we need to get something straight............" talk, a speech. I even toyed with coming clean - the best defence to being pronounced a poacher is to declare yourself a gamekeeper.

Days passed, then several weeks, I still could not work out how to tackle K about it, but with everything so normal, well better than normal, we were getting on much better, as if the air had been cleared, it was hard to bring this up. I even began to wonder if it was a good idea to.

Maybe I should just let it go. It was a one off, it was history now. Move on.

No, I couldn't, I just could not. My wounded pride demanded satisfaction. I had to sit K down and make my speech, make her understand that this had been a mistake and could never happen again. I had to do this.

I really did............

R


The speech


It was the third weekend after my first spanking. In the meantime I'd suffered the slings and arrows and died the thousand deaths that only a really good identity crisis can bring on.

I could not work out if K was indifferent to the effect the spanking had had on me or was deliberately torturing me. She has since confirmed that she knew very well and was torturing me, or as she so sweetly put it, "letting you swing".

I'd finally accepted that I had ducked the issue long enough. This weekend, I would resolve things. It was time to deliver the "I don't want you to spank me again" speech.

Saturday morning - K announced that she needed some new clothes for work. I like shopping with K, especially if it involves lingerie, but selecting another black/navy suit?

In America they call them Mall's, in England shopping centres. This one is big, near us, easier than battling into London and has several department stores that would have what K wanted. No point trying to tackle K on something serious until we got back. I waited until we were entering the store to make my break for freedom.

"Look, you don''t need my help with this, I need some new CD's - I'm off to the music section."

"Fine, whatever, but meet me here by the cosmetics in half an hour" Why do department stores always put the cosmetics by the front door?

"Fine"

"Half an hour, back here; got your phone?"

"Yes, fine"

I didn't need CD's, I needed jeans and the denim shop was on another level at the other end of the Mall. Ever tried to buy Jeans recently? pre-washed, stone washed, distressed, asymmetrical, hipsters, retro.........just straight blue denim with two legs and a button fly? It took ages to find such a thing. I was not going through this again. At this rate they would stop making "normal" jeans pretty soon. I wanted 3 pairs. There were two on the shelf, but according to the computer, another pair in the storeroom. Big mistake to ask for these. It took another age for the sales girl to find them, then she insisted I try them on -"they all have slight size variations" I was told. All this took more time, then my credit card got a random check on it, which took even more time.

By the time I scooted back to meet K I was acutely conscious that this had taken a bit more than half an hour.

K was waiting in the agreed spot, a pile of bags by her feet, steam coming form both ears.

"Do you know how long I have been here? Where the hell have you been?" She caught sight of the bag I was carrying. "Clearly not in the music section, but I knew that because I went there to look for you."

She reached out and grabbed my left wrist. "Watch is working fine" and then tugged me round to pull my mobile out from my back pocket "Phone turned off! But I knew that too - I've been calling it!!!

"errrr, I was saving the battery"

Still holding my left arm K stepped around behind me and landed a huge haymaker of a swat on the seat of my pants and then stalked off in the direction of the car park.

The smack didn't hurt, but we were right in the middle of the cosmetics section. All around bored, over made-up, sales girls leaned over brightly lit counters, one of them (or more) must have seen me get smacked. I cast a furtive look around, nobody seemed to be obviously paying us any attention, and it was probably better not to keep looking, I grabbed K's bags and followed her.

K did not speak again until we were in the car and nearly out of the multi-story.

"In case you were wondering, that was not the only smack you are going to get today"

I had to head this off, but while negotiating Saturday morning traffic did not seem best time. I would wait until we got home.

When we did get home, K got in a pre-emptive strike "Put my shopping on the bed and bring me a sandal, you know which one." With that she disappeared into the kitchen leaving me silently mouthing the beginning of a response.

I decided to retreat to the bedroom and run through one more time what I was going to say. I really don't know why, but the first thing I did when I got there was to take the same sandal K had used last time out of her wardrobe. Maybe I thought holding it would strengthen my resolve. Standing in front of them mirror , holding the sandal, trying to remember what it was I had decided to say, was a bit like that bit in Lord of the Rings when Frodo holds the Ring over the fire. The sandal seemed to be getting heavier in my hands, I wanted to put it back in the wardrobe, but it had some strange gravitational pull toward the living room. It wanted to be returned to its Master (sic mistress); and the well rehearsed words I worked on for three weeks were now scrambled in my head.

I went into the living room, strangely still holding the sandal. Maybe I was hoping I could break free of its evil grip just long enough to get some words out. If I could just start my speech, everything would be fine. K was waiting with a dining chair in the middle of the room. "

"Come here and give me that" I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

"The weekends are short enough.........bad enough to have to do boring shopping for work ..............better things to do than hang around in department stores waiting for you ..........could have called me to tell me where you were..........." The words came out in staccato bursts, each one punctuated by another tug or pull on my clothes, my trousers and then my shorts were pulled down. I tried, quite ineffectually to say anything, it was hard to interrupt.

"Keeping me waiting like that was just plain inconsiderate. I've had enough, lets see if a good spanking will help you to be more thoughtful. Now bend over."

I opened my mouth one last time but whatever it was I wanted to say was gone. I put myself over K's knee to receive my second (and probably equally well deserved) spanking. When it was finished, still bent across her knee, with some coaching from K and the aid of a few further smacks I apologized for my thoughtless behavior.

Well that was a speech of sorts.

R


End Game


I don't know why, but even after the second encounter with K's sandal I clung to the idea that it was possible to stop this.

This self deception did not last very long, 7 days to be exact.

Saturday morning (again) - we were leaving the house, K had gone out I was looking for my wallet and keys. From outside K screamed. I rushed out to find her standing by the front door looking shocked, pale but angry . Hanging from the lock was my bunch of keys.

"I must have left them there when I let us in last night" I said somewhat lamely.

"No kidding!" K ripped the keys from the door, flung them at me and stormed inside. "Come with me"

I followed her into the bedroom with a horrible sinking feeling. When I go t there K had already grabbed the leather sandal she used to spank me with and was standing in front of the dressing table.

"All the keys are on that ring, your place, my place, both cars, everything. They have been hanging there all night, we could have been robbed, everything I own taken while we slept, .........raped, ............murdered."

She let out a loud, exasperated, angry groan and flopped down on the stool in front of the dressing table. "Take down your pants and come here, now"

"Errr........look.........K.....errr"

"Oh for heavens sake darling, you surely cannot expect to do something this stupid, to put all our possessions (her possessions actually it was her place we were at), our safety, all at risk by simply being careless and not get punished for it, can you?"

She actually had a point. I felt awful. It was my responsibility to look after her and I'd failed dismally. I take that sort of stuff seriously and actually expect quite a lot of myself.

I didn't want another spanking, I could just apologize and walk backwards away from K, out of the room, and for a second I was tempted to do just that.

If I did though I would be denying that what had happened mattered. It did, and I could not bring myself not to accept responsibility for it, and that meant accepting the consequences.

So, I undid my jeans, pushed them down, took a step forward and did the same with my shorts and then, without any assistance of encouragement from K who sitting quite still, put myself across her lap to take what by some considerable margin was the longest and hardest spanking I'd been given so far.

R


Stepping through the looking glass


"There is a red mark here"

It was Saturday night, that morning K had spanked me for the third time. Earlier we had made love and were now lying in bed, I was stretched out on my tummy and K was lying beside me doodling patterns on my back and bottom with a fingernail.

"Are you sure its not just the light?" K had the candles on - she loves candles, long baths together by candlelight and candles on when we make out. Our love life has a hell of a carbon footprint.

"No its not the light, this bit is definitely red"

I went quiet. We still had not really talked about what was happening between us.

"Are we starting to make a habit of this?" There, finally I'd said something.

"No more than you behavior seems to demand, why?"

"Well it feels strange, its just that I never......"

"Never what.....?"

"Thought of myself as a submissive........." OH God, there it was I'd said said it, the aspect of this that had really been turning me inside out. The answer however knocked me sideways.

"Good, me neither."

"Huh?"

"Well I don't want you crawling around on the floor, wearing an apron, a collar or doing anything like that and if I ever catch you wearing my underwear you'll be out of here so fast....."

"But I get spanked?"

"Yes, if you continue to do silly things like this morning or go around looking up other women's skirts, why not?"

"Well, its that ....I'm not......errr......ummm.


"Look, what would have happened today if you had not been spanked?"

"Well I wouldn't have red marks on my bottom for starters"

"Be serious"

"OK, you'd have been mad and yelled, I'd have apologized......."

"And.........you'd have resented being yelled at and having to apologize.........and I'd have got more angry because you were being resentful.........so it would have got worse and worse and we'd have barley spoken all afternoon....this evening you'd have sat watching old movies until I'd gone to sleep then found something else to do tomorrow away from me. We'd next have a civil conversation sometime on Wednesday. How am I doing"

She was 100% right, all our fights went like this. It was also worrying that she read me that well.

"So instead, we both faced up to what happened, you got punished, which you deserved, that cleared the air and we had an OK day, a nice evening and made love."

She was right again, it had stuck me earlier how quickly I'd got over being spanked. My bottom had been sore for the rest of the morning and there had been an uncomfortable silent period when we left the house, but K and I were holding hands, chatting and being quite normal within an hour of my pants being pulled back up.

"So, given a choice, what would you take, a fight that runs till Wednesday and adds to the scar tissue of all our other fights, or get spanked, clear the air, make love this evening and have a nice day tomorrow"

"Whats tomorrow?"

"Oh a little reward for being good about taking your medicine this morning. Come on, what would you chose?"

"I get a choice?"

"Not each time, but seeing as we are having this conversation, yes now you do"

There it was, the exit door had opened for me, all I had to do was walk through it. I'd been through this in my mind so many times, but it still surprised me how easily the words came out.

"I'd chose to take the spanking..........every time"

Once you step through the looking glass, the hard bit is to recalibrate reality and accept that down is now up - if I behaved badly I would be punished. Once that was sorted, everything else just comes down to what constitutes bad behavior.

We talked for a long time about this, me lying on my stomach, K still beside me, her chin on my shoulder both of us whispering into the pillow. If we wrote it all down and showed it to a straight couple I doubt they would think any of it that odd - most of it was what most people would hope for from a considerate partner, just good manners a lot if it..........."If you are going out partying with the boys, tell me, don't just sneak off.......don't turn up at midnight drunk and wake me up if we both have work the next day.........and don't take out your hangover on me..........stop ogling other women........" and so on. It was just the consequences that were a bit different, but I was OK with that now.

We'd pretty much talked ourselves out and were drifting off to sleep, when K leaned over and whispered in my ear

"Oh and one more thing, I think its time you were introduced to my hairbrush"

Her hairbrush was right behind me on the dresser, an oversized old fashioned one made of ebony. I'd never seen her use it, thought it was an ornament.

"That sounds like it will hurt"

"Mmmmmm"

"But that sandal you use hurts"

"I know my darling, but not enough"

R


The first time

Talking about something and doing it are always two different things.

So K and I had reached agreement on a new basis for our relationship - domestic discipline, just what I'd dreamed of, but not with me on the receiving end, most definitely NOT quite what I had in mind. But maybe I'd just been kidding myself all along, this felt right now and made sense to me............but that was just talking about it, ..........

So naturally I was a bit tense about what I'd actually signed up to and how it would work. Even K seemed a bit twitchy which was unusual.

I don't know whether I deliberately let it happen to get it over with, or whether I just did not try to stop it, or whether it was just doomed to happen this way.........it had happened like this so often it was oddly fitting in a way.

We'd agreed to meet for a drink on the way home from work. A wine bar. I got stuck on the phone at work, I'd be just a little late I thought, so I grabbed my coat and dashed off.........but turning the computer off, getting in a lift, getting out of the building, getting across to where we were to meet.......each bit takes a bit longer than you think. What I always tend to do is say I'll only be a few minutes, no point in calling, it will only slow me down. So I did not ring K.

I got to the wine bar, by now quite late. K was sitting at a table on her own.

"Hi, sorry, stuck on the phone. Can I get you something"

"You could offer to buy me a drink, currently you are the only man in here who has not"

This was not a good start. K hates being stood up, hates walking into bars on her own and having to look around for me and worse, to have to wait, even worse to have to fend off pick ups. In her book I should be there early, get a table and be waiting to greet her. Not totally unreasonable.

I got us drinks and sat down, K was clearly not happy.

Finally I broke the silence - "Look I'm sorry about......."

"You could have called."

"Am I in trouble?"

"What do you think?" 


That would be a yes.

"Am I going......are you......errr.........a spanking."


"Yes, but not here, you'll have to wait till we get home"

"With the Hairbrush?"

"What do you think?" 


Another yes, it would be the first time with the Hairbrush.

We took a taxi home. I'd already been spanked three times but each time there had been something else going on, distraction, confusion, ambiguity, momentum. Now, there was nothing. I knew what we'd agreed but the stark certainty that this would now happen when we got home was something else, nothing to discuss, no ambiguity, just time to stare out of the window of the taxi and think about what was coming.

The more I thought, the more nervous I got. I actually began to shake. K noticed and reached across to take my hand and give a squeeze that may have been intended to be reassuring.

"You OK?"

"Fine," I was clearly not fine.

"Its only a spanking, its not the end of the world you know". Was it just me or did she say that louder than she needed to, I looked to see if the driver had reacted, maybe not. You must hear some funny things in the back of a taxi.

K was completely calm when we got home, a sort of triumphant gleam in her eye. Did I want to get changed first? No, I wanted to get it over with.

"Fine, bring me the Hairbrush" I did, not stop pausing to think this time, almost tripping over furniture as I brought it back.

"You know I hate having to sit and wait for you on my own in places like that"

"Yes"

"And it was easy for you to have called me to say where you where"

"Yes"

"So you agree you deserve a spanking" I'd played this game before with V, but with me asking the questions, I knew what was coming.

"Yes"

"Yes what?"

I took a deep breath and swallowed hard

"Yes, I deserve a spanking"

It was easier to just bend over and take it than have to say it like that. Bend over I did though immediately afterwards, K having lowered my trousers and told me to do the same with my shorts. A gentle tap with the Hairbrush once I was in position.

"All right my darling, lets see if a dose of this does any good. You agreed you deserved it remember."

SMACK..............the Hairbrush stung in away the sandal had not, it went right into me, not a skin deep warming but deep tissue discomfort. I kicked, I howled, I made a lot of noise, it really hurt.

When it was over I stood in front of K rubbing my very red, very sore bottom. She sat there reflectively turning the Hairbrush over in her hands.

"That really hurt! I said more than a little petulantly.

"Good, its meant to. Not much point otherwise. Learned your lesson?"

"Yes"

"Good, plenty more where than came form, now put this back" she handed me the Hairbrush "then get cleaned up, I'll get dinner started."

I took a long shower, hoping the jets of water would ease the ache in my bottom. They didn't.

I wanted to feel different, like I'd done something strange, upset, disoriented, shaken, like I should sulk. I didn't, my bottom hurt but otherwise I felt more normal than I had done in weeks; relieved, on a kind of high, as if a great weight had been lifted.

When the hot water ran out I got dressed and went to face K.

Dinner was on and K had opened a bottle of wine. Offering me a glass with one hand she slipped the other around my back and gave my bottom a brisk rub then a pat, then kissed me.

"That was a long shower, you OK?" I had to smile. I had hurt but I'd deserved it and I now knew I'd done the right thing by agreeing to this.

"Yes fine, sore but fine."

"As it should be." I got another kiss "Dinners ready".

R


Reflections


That first session with the hairbrush marked (in more ways than one!) the end of my journey across to the darkside.

It also marked the beginning of another journey - I got to know the Hairbrush quite a bit better over the following months. Not to put to fine a point on it, I got spanked a lot - well whats the point in having rules if you don't test them?

But DD is not just about spanking. Cornertime, detentions, lines and other domestic "impositions" were introduced. So the next phase of this reiterated blog is to talk about some of these, the first time for anything is always worth writing about.

Oh and the Hairbrush got a bit of help as well so I'd better cover that I suppose.

But first, because I'm feeling reflective tonight, a few thoughts on the last 5 years.

Has it worked?

Well we don't fight as much any more, in fact we hardly fight at all. K still gets angry and frustrated if I behave badly but she has an outlet now, a way to work off the frustration so it doesn't linger, fester and brew up into one of the nagging rows we used to have. If I pay the price for bad behavior, that's the end of it as far as K is concerned - the slate is cleared and after the fact recriminations are forbidden.

And me?

Well pretty much the same, I don't need to get hung up on guilt and a lot of the resentment that I felt to K's justified criticisms arose from the fact that I'm pretty self-critical to begin with and didn't really need somebody else lambasting me for doing something I deep down knew to be stupid when I was doing fine quietly giving myself a hard enough time. Now there is a safety valve for that - I make my act of contrition, my ritualised atonement and that clears my conscience , settles my debt to K (and to myself) and that's the end of that.

So we fight less, and although punishment is not foreplay, by definition the less time we spend fighting, the more time we spend being happy so the more time there is when we feel like making love. Anyway, fun sex is always better than make-up-after-a-fight sex.

The main worry I had when we started was that I'd get bossed around, that a sensible domestic charter would become a silly set of artificial rules . Well that didn't happen, yes we've raised the barrier on a few things or identified new things that need work, but I still maintain that a plain vanilla couple could look at our rule book (if we had one) and not see anything odd. From time to time I've pushed back on something and we've always been able to have a sensible discussion about it. To her credit, K has always been prepared to put her hands up when I've been able to show she's being unreasonable. This is still an essentially consensual regime. Of course there is a big difference between not wanting to be punished and genuinely thinking the grounds for being punished were unfair in the first place - its the ability to distinguish the former from the latter that's important.

The other worry I had was that this would change the way I am away from home, for the worse - make me weaker, less decisive, that sort of thing.

You see I'm the typical driven alpha professional male - not the type you might normally expect to see in the corner with their pants down and a red bottom - but people like us tend to be very goal driven, focused, intolerant, oblivious to the effect we have on other people, intolerant of rules (they apply to others, not us). Now all this is quite useful if we work for you, it makes us quite profitable, we can be a bit awkward to have around but people just have to put up with that as long as we make money. The trouble is that this is not a great set of attitudes to bring home, well we can be a complete pain in the ass if we behave around the house like we behave at work. Something somewhere has to put a brake on this. Now some people do it for themselves, some just roar on out of control and end up with unhappy people all around them, or divorced........or you have something else that provides balance.


Being set some rules by K and being disciplined fulfills that function for me, it helps keep the stronger, self-absorbed side of my personality in check, and far from being weakened by it , I have a sense of perspective that has actually helped me be more effective, at home and everywhere else...............maturity you could call it!

So, 5 years on - no regrets what so ever.

Now, what happened to that sandal that it all..........next week.

R

Thursday, 12 February 2015

New FM Story - The Domestic Dominatrix




The Domestic Dominatrix


Catherine Matthews looked up from her book at the clock above her desk, her next client was due any minute now so she put Ms Austin’s prose away and did a final check of the room. Everything was in order, as it always was in her world, and she was prepared. She amused herself with a few practise swings as she waited. It was not long before the bell rang.

“Good boy,” she said cheerfully, as she opened the door. “I like boys who are on time. In you come!”

The youth of the man at the door had surprised her, but she was too professional to show it. Her usual clients were much older and she guessed he was more similar to her own thirty one years. Nonetheless, he looked every bit as meek as the men which normally stepped through her door, and sensitive to his first time nervousness, she gently took charge and steered him upstairs to her office. There was method in this action—there was method in everything Catherine did—for as the young man proceeded ahead of her, she studied his bottom as his grey trousers tightened and loosened with his steps, planning her assault.

“So, I think you said in your email that this your first time being caned?” she said it conversationally, but enjoyed using such a rare question in everyday conversation. They entered her large upstairs office and she indicated a chair in front of her desk for him to sit at.

“Yes, er, Miss,” he stammered. “I have wanted to for years.”

“Call me Eleanor, for now,” Catherine told him. “You can address me as Miss or Miss Eleanor once we start. I always have a normal, everyday chat first, especially with new clients. So that you can see I’m not a mad woman.”

“Thanks,” he said. “That is easier. I wasn’t sure how to be.”

“Yes, well, I suppose it is an odd thing the first time, having your bottom soundly caned. I’d be misleading you if I expected you to feel otherwise. But I’ve been caning men’s bottoms for so long now, it feels normal.”

She noticed the man blush at each mention of caning, and as ever enjoyed the thrill it sent through her when she encountered a man who was easy to embarrass. Standing up, she turned and opened her office cabinet and looked for the file she had created for him. She hoped he was taking the opportunity to look at her tight skirted bottom – that was the purpose after all, to let him be a naughty boy. Turning back suddenly, she was sure she caught him – certainly his face flushed again.

“My, you do blush easily,” she teased, with an edge of sternness. “You must have a guilty conscience.”

Her words increased the colour in his face to crimson, and he tried to look down and away.

“Oh no you don’t,” she said, leaning across the desk, and holding his chin in one hand. “You obviously have been a very naughty boy or you wouldn’t need to be caned, so you just sit there and look me in the eyes and feel all that guilty conscience. Don’t worry about your crimson cheeks – I assure you, your bottom cheeks will soon match and hurt so badly you will forget all about your blushing.”

The man squirmed, but held her eye.

Catherine chuckled and sat back in her chair. “You boys are so naughty! So in need of thrashing. No doubt you have guessed by now I have no problem telling you how naughty you have been – nor in telling you that I’m going to cane you.” She lent forward again, her eyes boring into his. “Yes, Sebastian, I am going to bend you over this desk and cane your bare bottom very hard. I assure you! You deserve it, don’t you? A well caned bottom!”

“Er, yes… Eleanor.”

She smiled. “Good boy. Glad to hear you know your place. Now, today will be what I call a training caning. It will hurt your bottom badly, and you will howl and wonder how you will take it. But you will. However, I want you to know that it will not be a punishment caning. That is an altogether different matter! Right,” she said, going on before he had time to react to her words. “I need to fill out your file a bit more. You will answer all my questions honestly, do you understand? I’m not talking about anything invasive. Your private life is your affair. But I do like to know a bit about my client’s ‘special’ likes. Now, first of all, is Sebastian your real name? If it isn’t, “Catherine added quickly, “I don’t need you to tell me what your real name is, I just want to know if we are dealing with a pseudo name that equates to a made up character. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, I see. Actually, yes it is my real name.”

“Good, that’s nice. I like that name. I am pleased to know that Sebastian is your real name. Quite rare, but I feel it suits the owner of a well caned bottom.”

“Does it?”

“Absolutely. Indeed, I could say that in my opinion all men, regardless of name, suit a well caned bottom. But in truth, I do feel Sebastian is a rather a good name for a man who knows the best thing for him is to surrender to the authority and discipline of the women in his life. Perhaps it is the public school sound to it. Do you, by the way, believe a man should submit to the women in his life? Do you have a wife or girl-friend you defer to?”

“Er, no I’m single, actually. Though I have a blind date, tonight as it happens.”

“Really? How interesting! And yet here you are seeing me today. How intriguing that you have chosen to meet a potential new lady friend with a very sore bottom. What could that mean, I wonder?!”

She was teasing him, but she saw the serious look on his face and it caught at her compassion. “Do you see yourself as a man who should be caned – in a relationship situation? Don’t worry if you do, by the way, many men do.”

“I hadn’t thought about it before. I just thought that doing two scary things on the same day would make it easier to ignore the fear of one by thinking about the other.”

“I see. So how did you come to connect with this lady, what do you know about her?”

“Er, actually nothing. She is the friend of my work colleague’s wife. I say it is a date, but I think I’m being used as a filler really. They wanted to go to a show and were taking this friend and I think I got invited along to make it into two couples. Less awkward for them.”

“Ah, I see. So not so serious then. What’s the show?”

“Um, it’s a play at the Mercury. ‘Road’ I think it is called.”

“Really?! Oh well, I’m sure it will be a pleasant night. I’ve heard good things of that play. Um, what do you and your colleague do by the way?”

“Oh, we’re both accountants. As is this lady, apparently.”

“A good job in any age. The world will always need accountants. Well, if I remember correctly, the Mercury has some very hard seats. Poor boy, you will have trouble sitting!”

Her reminder that he was there to be caned made Sebastian blush again.

“Ha, those lovely red cheeks again! Well, we must even them up with the nether ones soon, but first a few more questions. Lets’ see if we can really make those cheeks burn. Now, apart from a long if unfulfilled – until now - fascination with being caned, do you have any other peccadillos? A fascination for leather or rubber, sissy fantasies, cross dressing. nappies?”

Sebastian stammered as he tried to reply. “Er, not really. I mean, I don’t think so…. er, did you say nappies?”

“Oh yes. I find many things useful for men, but especially putting them in nappies. It makes them so much better behaved, and keeps them from getting too big for their boots. It stops a lot of annoying male behaviour too: harassing one for sex, masturbating, making the toilet seat dirty or leaving it up, wanting to be out with the boys and not coming home asap. And it certainly stops them cheating! All good things for the recalcitrant male. Yes, I rather support that. So… nothing to confess then?”

“Er, well, I quite like wearing plastic pants – a kink I from when I was a child. I grew up with a fascination for them, and I think it is linked to the whole spanking and caning thing. Like being dealt with by a Matron at a boarding school.”

“Humiliation punishments, you mean?”

“Yes.” Sebastian’s smile showed how grateful he felt for her easy understanding and acceptance.

“Jolly good. So, did you bring some? Plastic pants I mean?”

Slowly, his face reddening again, Sebastian nodded.

“Good boys, lets’ see them then.”

Catherine watched as Sebastian picked up his bag and produced a pair of white plastic pants. He put them on the desk between them and Catherine picked them up.

“My my, a kinky boy as well as a naughty one. But yes, I like them. Big enough to cover all of your bottom, and very silly for a grown up man to be wearing. Yes, good. Right, trousers and pants off and put these on. I shall cane you in them.”

Sebastian hesitated. “You mean here? In front of you?”

“Yes, of course. Now! Chop chop, or do you want a ‘punishment’ caning added onto the end of your session? I don’t like being questioned. I like obedience. Instant obedience, Sebastian. Last warning!”

Quickly, Sebastian did as he was told. He slipped off his shoes and stripped off his trousers and underpants, acutely aware that he was naked and visible from the waist down. He grabbed the plastic pants and pulled them on. Once in them, he made to sit down again.

“No, stay standing. Hands on head, please! I want to see my naughty, plastic pantied boy. My, you must feel silly, standing before a stranger in those silly plastic pants. Just like a dirty little boy Matron has caught playing with himself and has had to punish by making him wear hygienic underwear.”

Sebastian’s face betrayed the power of her words, and his obvious erection pushed against the front of the plastic pants. He squirmed with humiliation, but with his hands on his head, he could not hide his arousal.

“You like that, don’t you? The thought of a strict Matron scolding you for touching yourself and making you wear plastic pants.”

“Yes,” he managed weakly.

Catherine chuckled and stood up. Reaching behind her, she selected a cane from the bundle by her desk. She held it in both hands and bent it as she walked around the desk.

“Oh Sebastian!”

She reached out with the cane until it touched the underside of his thrusting penis. 

“You are naughty naughty boy, aren’t you? So, you like being made to wear plastic pants. Well, I heartily approve of that. Ideal to stop naughty boys messing their trousers. I want you in them whenever you are in my company, understood?”

Sebastian nodded.

“Excellent. Naughty of course, and deserving of punishment, but as I said, I approve. I would certainly use them on any man I was with. He would often have under his pyjamas, sent to bed after a sound spanking from Matron. Would you like that?”

Sebastian tried not to look at her; his face was still crimson with embarrassment. But his throbbing erection was all the answer Catherine needed. She smiled to herself.

“Yes, I see it would be nice for you,” she told him. “But, these things are naughty, and I am going to have to cane you very very hard? Haha! My, but your bottom will be sore tonight. You will struggle to sit in the theatre. Will there be dinner afterwards?”

“Yes,” Sebastian murmured. “I think so Miss Eleanor.”

“Actually, call me Miss Catherine. That is my real name. Eleanor is my middle name and I want to hear you call me by my real name. When I beat you, when I thrash the seat of your plastic pants, I want to hear you begging Miss Catherine for mercy. Not that you will get any! For I have made up my mind to make sure you find it very hard to sit tonight, and I also want you to promise me you will keep these plastic pants on. Do you understand? If you don’t, I will be cross and I shall punish you for real. Understood?”

“Yes Miss Catherine.”

“Good boy. Now bend over my desk!”

Sebastian did as he was told and reached his shaking hands across the desk. As he did, Catherine noticed with amusement and interest, the way the soft plastic pants tightened around his bottom, presenting a shiny white and inviting target.

She placed the cane against his bottom, and moved her feet to get the best position. The cane whistled gently and snapped across his bottom with a gentle crack.

“Ow!”

“Sebastian, really, that was just me setting up my position. Honestly, what a fuss. Now, here we go. Twelve wasn’t it? Now, hold on to the desk tightly and do not stand up. That counts as an interruption and adds punishment strokes to the end. And those do hurt!”

She noted with pleasure the worried look on the man’s face, but did not allow it to distract her. She had a job to do: to introduce another member of the male species to his right place – bent over her desk with a throbbing welted bottom in the air.

Her eyes now fixed on the upturned bottom, and the cane lifted away. A sharp whistle was followed by a loud crack as the cane snapped down and bit into the white plastic.

For a second, Sebastian did not move, and then he literally jumped up, his hands clasped to his bottom. He stared at her in disbelief, breathing heavily and shuffling from foot to foot.

“Oh dear,” Catherine said calmly. “That has earned you your first punishment stroke – considerably more painful than what you just felt. Bend over, lets get on!”

A stern look sent a pale faced Sebastian back over the desk edge. No doubt he was wondering what he had let himself in for, she mused. Men always think it is in their control as to how they are disciplined, some fantasy of their own making. But Catherine did not see it that way. Once they had committed to accept female guidance, she saw it as her job to make them learn all sorts of lessons, the first of which was always that they were not in control of their canings. She had seen many men traipse out her door with hands clasping very sore bottoms, yet they always came back. For she did not just cane them, they found, she disciplined them – and that was what they really needed. She was that special person who held boundaries for them; and the one who says ‘now you are a good boy again and you can go about your day - until the next time’. Catherine understood men, and they knew she did.

Sebastian managed to stay down for most of the strokes. Each one whistled nicely and he yelped delightfully, but Catherine knew that as much as he thought he was being caned, what he was actually doing was getting prepared for the real caning. The one that would follow. He had stood up four times, and put his hands back twice. This made it, she was rather amused to find, that the caning to follow, the real one, was going to be a sixer. How fitting she thought.

~

Sebastian stood in the corner of Miss Catherine’s office. His hands were on his head, his plastic pants around his knees. He was, apparently, ‘displaying his chastisement’. But in his heart he felt happy and content, and quite peaceful. In the end he had quite enjoyed the caning, or at least the feeling afterwards and although it had hurt he found the pain, now, oddly comforting in a way. He had been told that he had earned six ‘punishment strokes’ but now that his bottom had got used to the throbbing, he found he was looking forward to them.

It was a ten minute wait and when Catherine called him back to once more take up the position facing her desk, he was quite relieved. His arms had got tired and his mind bored. Plus he liked looking at her much more than the wall - she was very pretty after all.

“Now,” Catherine told him. “First we will have those pants down. I love them, but this is punishment, so much be on the bare.”

Sebastian flushed as he pushed the plastic pants down to his knees.

“Goodboy, now, bend over this…” (she placed a thick rounded cushion across the edge of the desk) “…and remember do not stand up! If you do, the stroke will not count, and trust me, you are going to not want me to repeat a single one! Right, bend over!”

Sebastian did, and found the cushion thing lifted his bottom up so that it was now higher than his head, causing his feet to be on tip toes.

“Good, now keep still.”

Catherine took up position again, tapping his now bare bottom with her cane, causing Sebastian to wince as the strong taps cut into his already sore buttocks. She lifted the cane up and backwards, her body twisting, coiling like a spring, before she let out a tennis player exclamation of effort, and whipped the cane back and down.

It took a second for him to feel any pain this time, which he thought odd. But when he did, he became instantly terrified. Agony begun to burn deep in his bottom cheeks with an intensity that continued to grow as the seconds went by. Rather than be a acute pain fading, it was going the other way, and it was hard for him not to panic. It was even harder for him to stay in place. every cell in him wanted to jump up – yet fear kept him gripping the desk with all his might. He had already submitted to this, he knew there was no easy escape  and the best thing to do was to hold on until the end. It was only five more after all. He could make it he was sure.

All this was going on inside Sebastian’s head. While it did however, his body was twisting and squirming, and his vocal chords were gasping and groaning.

The cane raised again and the next time it came down, the agony that erupted in his bottom filled him with disbelief. As if she knew this, Catherine began to speak about it.

“Yes Sebastian, it is intended to hurt this much. You are being punished. You are being thrashed as a naughty man should be. It is my absolute intention to cane this hard, to cause you this much agony and yes you will not sit for quite a while. All men I cane, receive this when they need punishment.”

Before he had had a chance to fully accept the pain his bottom was trying to tell him about, he heard another grunt, a high pitched swish, and then a third line began its burning crescendo.

It was too much! Sebastian screamed and leapt up, his hands clutching his burning buttocks, terrifyingly able to make out the pronounced ridges of three sets of tramlines running across the centre of both bottom cheeks. He sank to the floor, kneeling before Catherine in utter desperation – begging and pleading to be let off any more strokes of the cane.

Catherine gazed down at his tear streaked face passively and then looked at her wrist watch. “Standing up has earned you an extra stroke at the end. For each five seconds you fail to be back across the desk, you earn another. Feel free to take your time, should you wish, I will be unmoved by anything you say, now or later.”

Sebastian’s mind was utter confusion. He desperately tried to think of a way out, of something to say, but his brain would not work.

“Coming up on fifteen seconds, Sebastian. You are currently looking at four extra strokes. Another seven in total to go. More than you started with.”

Her certainty floored him and in a panic he jumped up and scrambled back over the desk. As he did, as he saw what he had done, his heart sunk. He had given in, and his chance to run had somehow evaporated under her certainty and now he was in her hands until the end. His bottom was hers.

“Good boy! Very sensible too,” she said. He whimpered as he felt the cane resting across the centre of his bottom. “Prepare yourself."

Stroke number four sliced into his bottom and he let out a howl of desperate pain. Another and another followed and the rest of the strokes cracked down steadily and without mercy. When they began to cover the more painful earlier ones, Sebastian’s yells became shrieks and even when the last had been given, he continued to writhe and groan for a good half minute afterwards.

But it was over, Sebastian had received his first punishment caning.

~

Catherine returned to her seat and sat down. Sebastian’s squirming face, with eyes still shut tight in pain, was right in front of her and she watched with interest and amusement.

“Sebastian?”

Sebastian opened his eyes, and looked at her. He was obviously surprised to see her there and started to stand up.

“No, stay as you are. I want to talk to you. Today, for the first time, you have been punished properly by a woman. One who knows how to do it! Now, when you go on your date tonight, I want you to act as if the lady was as I am, a lady capable and willing to discipline you soundly. This will help you behave impeccably and encourage you to afford her every courtesy, to treat tonight as an opportunity to put this new you, this obedient and surrendered you, into practise. In fact, imagine that if there is any fault at all in your behaviour, it will mean that when you drive her home, she will take you in side and thrash your backside severely! Can you do that?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Good boy. Right, stand up.”

Shakily Sebastian got to his feet. His hands went to touch and explore his bottom tentatively. He was vaguely aware of his naked front facing her but oddly it seemed insignificant.

“Now pull up your plastic pants, and remember they are to stay on throughout the evening. I shall ask you about them the very next time we meet and woe betide you if you report that you did not keep them on. Do you understand?”

Sebastian nodded, pulling up his pants gently over his welt covered bottom, and then his trousers. She was right; he would have trouble sitting tonight.  

“Good. Now off you go and enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you. It’s been… amazing. I will definitely want to come and see you again.” He trailed off.

Catherine chuckled. “You will, now off you go!”

“I mean, you are lovely and any man would be lucky, er…” he reddened.

However, Catherine held her amused smile and gave him a gentle pat on his bottom as she steered him to the door.

“You feel in awe, Sebastian. You have endorphins flowing through your system. You’ve met someone stronger than you who accepted you as you are – kinks and all. And it’s only natural that you will feel overwhelmed.”

“You’re right I guess,” he started to say, then tried to back pedal. “I mean, er, that… well, I guess I don’t really know you, not the real you, but if I did, if I could, I feel sure that… oh shit, I’m sorry.”

Catherine actually laughed, but as she did, she also took him by the ear and led him back to her desk. “Now what did I tell you about manners? Swearing in my company? Tut Tut! Bend over! Six sharp smacks on your trouser seat will do for that one. She picked up a large wooden paddle. “Naughty boys learn the hard way!”

Five minutes later and Sebastian, rubbing his bottom frantically, slipped out Catherine’s front door. “So will I ever get to know you? The real you?”

“Would you want to? I, who know all your secrets, your kinky ways? Who could and would use them to make you completely under my power? Would you want that in your real life?”

“If it was you, yes.”

Catherine laughed. “Well, we’ll see. Now, bye bye.” And with that, the door closed.

~

The rest of the afternoon Sebastian spent trying to tell himself to calm down and stop running fantasies in his head. Yes, he admitted to himself that he liked all the power and authority Catherine had, but she was right of course, it was likely endorphins and awe.

Forcing himself to focus on the night ahead, he got ready. It was quite a while since he had been on a date, and it was hard not to overdo the after shave. Then there was the question of the plastic pants. Obviously he was not expecting to spend the night with a lady he had never met, yet at the same time, did he really want to spend all evening in the uncomfortable, hot and sticky pants.

He had decided to leave them off, and was almost out the door when an odd feeling came over him. The plastic pants were somehow a link to Catherine, she had liked them, or so she said, and without them he felt oddly bereaved. The realisation saddened him, for he saw that she really had gotten under his skin. He should leave them off for that reason alone, but he didn’t. Angry that it mattered more than it should, he put them back on. He knew he would feel silly wearing them while with his friends, and of course in front of his date, but his new loyalty to Catherine was stronger.

He was still thinking about it when he walked through the front door of his friends’ house, and met the lady he was to accompany – to his delight.

“Sebastian, this is Catherine.”

“Hello Sebastian, lovely to meet you!” Standing up she took his hand, her smile telling him that she’d known all along she was to be his date. Then turning to their mutual hosts, she added. “I wonder if I could steal him away for a moment. As my date I think it only fitting he helps me with my bags. I’ll pop them in his car for when he drives me home after the show.”

Sebastian’s face showed his confusion so Catherine went on to explain. “I’ve been shopping this afternoon, with Sarah. My bags are in her study, but I think we should put them in your car now, so we can go straight from the theatre. Besides it will be nice to have a little chat at the same time – check we’re on the same page and so on.” As she spoke she stood beside Sebastian and he felt her hand pat his bottom. Remembering the plastic pants, he thanked his lucky stars he had worn them after all – the punishment for failing to do so would have no doubt been horrendous. Although, Sebastian felt sure, it would be a miracle if she did not find some reason to cane him anyway, once they got to her house. He had a feeling she was going to be a very demanding date.