One Tuesday night
The waitress was trying hard to look fancy in her fake luxury brand dress, but neither the restaurant nor her could really pull it off. He was not particularly attracted to her as a person, although there was a certain sexiness to her, and the dress revealed every curve of her admittedly well-shaped body. She was taking the orders, while slightly too loud Latin music was playing. Interacting with her felt different today, and pondering whether he liked her or not was not on his plate, as he was awkwardly adjusting his seating position to somehow get comfortable. She had no idea that he had a butt plug up his ass, secured by solid leather straps. He, however, knew and could not help feeling exposed in public. This, after all, was the Mistress’ intention, which is also why she brought him to this place that sexed up even on a Tuesday night.
She allowed him to go to work and even to accompany her for dinner, but he was still on probation, under a strict set of restrictions. During the day, she had him focus on his job, and in the mornings and late afternoons he had to tidy and clean the house so that she would always find it spick and span when she returned from work. For the remainder of the day and the night, she had made him her personal slave and prisoner. At home, she would cuff him, more or less (usually less) comfortably depending on her mood and his displayed behavior. When she wanted to enjoy her me-time, she would put him in his cell. Sometimes with a book to read, sometimes masked and fully restrained. When they left the house, she made him wear the butt plug or the cock cage, usually alternating between days – with that, whenever he misbehaved, she could give him a gentle slap in the sensitized groin, easily done in public without drawing to much attention, to instantly punish him.
Fantasizing about bondage and submission or doing some kinky foreplay is one thing, but being subjected to it for a longer period of time gives all incentives to do everything to get a break. From the onset, she made it clear that there wouldn’t be an easy way out of this. She still needed him to prove his devotion before he could gradually be released from his sentence and disciplining could be reduced to occasional punishments.
3 days earlier…
It was clear to her that there needed to be a strong hierarchy in their marriage. She was the one giving the orders, he the one who followed them. That is how it is, and she would be completely unapologetic about this. From time to time, however, day to day life caused distractions, and the arrangement got neglected. In the last weeks, they both had their mind full of professional matters. She had spent many nights working late, with no time to assert her position at home. Things felt somewhat too much in flux, out of control – it had left her restless. It was time, she figured, to remind him of his place, and to teach him to quit fighting his resistance against full submission. This will bring her the peace of mind she was craving. Being the one leading the relationship gave her a much-needed feeling of stability, that the marriage was a solid rock in the waves of their hectic routines. They had gotten married over a year ago, and setting the rules of the game had long been overdue.
After a Saturday morning brunch, it was time to get serious about things and start the journey. To her, pronouncing a reasoned sentence was always an important part of the punishment. This way, there would be a lesson, a bigger purpose. Once they arrived home, she ordered him to strip naked, and to assume the slave position. “The what?”, he asked. “That will be the first thing you will learn today”, she responded. Almost gently, she instructed him to get on his knees, to put his arms behind his back, and to rest his forehead on the floor. “This is The Position. Get used to it. We have some talking to do”, she said, as she secured a pair of handcuffs around his wrists, and sat on the edge of the bed.
He behaved well while she had been on a business trip. He kept the house clean for her return and worked on his projects instead of lazing around. But she felt that reasserting their roles was well in order. After all, he should not get too accustomed to being the boss in the house. There is no way on Earth she would accept living with a useless bum who spends his time watching TV instead of thinking about pleasing her. Also, she knew that he could need some boundaries and structure to achieve his goals, so it was a win for everybody, really.
“Let’s reflect a little bit on your behavior this week”, she said. He swallowed, knowing that this will not go well for him. “First, your contribution to the household. I understand you did some laundry and tidied up the kitchen, but you know that I expect more from you. And then there is your work performance. Did we not agree that you would deliver ten pages for your new article? What happened to that?” She got up and slowly walked around him. “I did not do it”, he uttered.
– “Why not?”
– “I procrastinated”
– “That’s not good. So, the overall assessment of this week’s performance of yours is fully negative. That’s a shame. You will be punished for that, and I think it is time to seriously start your training.” Her hand was gliding over his body, first down his back, then over his ass, with her black nails scratching his skin.
“Do you like spending time with me? Taking care of me?”, she asked.
“Yes, very much – it’s the nicest thing in the world”, he responded, clearly concerned about the verdict.
“Well, then that will be your punishment. Time with me will have to be earned. And it is now time for you to think a little bit about your choices”, she ruled. She took a piece of letter paper, and wrote down his offences as well as the sentence received.
A minimum 24 hours of full submission under severe restraint, until parole is granted upon satisfactory behavior. Total control for a day, she reckoned, would be a good start. In addition, she was eager to make sure that every inch of his body would hurt, and thus make him think about her without interruption. After she had delivered the sentence, she taped the verdict to the wall and gave him an hour to get things in order, so that there would be no single distraction.
***
She sat on the couch, adjusting her skin-tight leather dress and gloves, resting her stilettos on the armrest. It was late Saturday afternoon, and only half an hour earlier had she started the punishment, which, for the moment, did its wonders on its own, without burdening her. After a somewhat turbulent couple of weeks, she was finally able to relax a little bit and enjoy some personal time. It had started raining outside. She took out a novel and got comfortable on the armchair in the living room, to the soothing sounds of summer rain. Occasionally, thunder roared from the distance and lightning would briefly spark up the room.
That the house was clean and her husband under her complete control lulled her mind. She would not have any dissonances, not this time. He was locked up in his cell, serving his time. “Welcome to your new life”, was what she told him when she put him there. The tiny room, barely larger than a square meter, contained a toilet and a sink for drinking water, and she had laid out a blanket and a pillow in the shower area for him to sleep on. Like this, there was no excuse for him – the infrastructure of his cell, as unpleasant and Spartan as it was, allowed for extended periods of incarceration, a fact they were both very well aware of. The cell was his punishment, and she was adamant to carry it out. Severe restraint, until further notice, meant a combination of measures. During daytime hours, he had to wear a latex hood as well as a butt plug, securely held in place by an unforgiving leather harness. His ass was hers now, and he was entitled to two bathroom breaks per day. No exceptions would be made. During the nighttime hours, he had to wear a cock cage instead – this was a punishment, so allowing him the possibility of pleasuring himself would go against everything she intended to do with him. For his arms and hands, she had a special new device: a pair of arm binders, two long gloves with chains and D-rings attached, which could hold the wearer’s arms in different positions: behind the back, or in front of the body as if they were a straightjacket. The latter would be the default state, unless there were chores to do that required use of his hands, or she needed to take away some more comfort by binding his arms behind his back. That was the baseline. At first, he thought he would simply relax a bit in the cell, maybe taking one or more naps. However, this was meant to be a punishment – and the devices were doing their job to make it so. Finding a comfortable position was impossible. There would always be some harness, lock, or buckle – not to forget the butt plug – taking turns in forbidding comfortably lying on the back, lying on the side, sitting, kneeling, squatting, or any other position. Meanwhile, the tight rubber hood was pushing on his jaw, so he had to actively open his mouth to be able to breathe – the holes for his nostrils were just too small. Every change in position was hard work, considering that his arms and hands were completely tied and thus inexistent for most purposes. Getting up the have a sip of water from the faucet, or sitting on the toilet to pee suddenly became minute-long projects requiring extensive planning and utmost care in order not to fall down or knock the head somewhere. This was exhausting.
Not for one second would he forget the situation he is in; his body, but most importantly, his mind was bound to enter a state of acceptance. Soon enough, his behavior towards her would adjust and he would do everything to obey her. Lying on the floor of his cell, he was slowly losing all sense of orientation, his perception of his surroundings was changing. His mind was entering a new state as his past life became a faint, distant memory.
While his predicament could not improve much during the punishment, bad behavior could entail having to wear a ballgag with its attached nipple clamps for some time – for example when speaking without having been asked (she was very strict about that) –, or getting his hands cuffed behind his back, rendering it even more impossible to find a comfortable resting position in his cell.
Submission through full control of the body was one thing, but the sentence included some more disciplining to achieve her goal, namely turning him into a true slave who only cares about his mistress and how to please her, while not complaining about whatever mistreatment she had in store for him. She had explained her expectations at length during the sentencing, where she also made clear that this was not a one-time extravaganza. “This will be your new reality. Ours, really. Any deviations from this, such as time without mask to watch TV or release of your arms to use your phone, will have to be earned through impeccable behavior and will be limited in time. Touching me, cuddling, kissing, fucking will only happen if I find that you behaved properly.”
As she opened the door to his cell, she attached a leash to the collar he had been wearing around his neck. She led him to the sofa, insisting that he crawl on all fours, and attached the leash to one leg of the sofa. Like this, it was impossible for him to sit up. The lesson for tonight was to respect her me-time. She sat on the sofa, and continued reading a book. Her feet, wearing very pointy stilettos, rested on his back, constantly scratching his skin. Whenever he moaned because of the pain, she would push her feet down even stronger until he stopped. This proved to be very effective behavioral training, and they spent the whole evening on this simple lesson. He was released only briefly to get her a glass of water. But instead of saying “Yes, Mistress”, he pointed out that he cannot see under his mask. This landed him half an hour wearing the ballgag and the nipple clamps. He had to learn that “Yes, Mistress”, possibly with some expression of gratefulness, were the only words allowed to leave his mouth, and that he had to comply with any order given by his mistress, no matter how difficult. When she realized that he had not tidied up properly after taking care of the laundry, she put the clothes pins he had negligently left lying around on various parts of his body – his chest, arms, thighs and belly. She was determined to deliver a penance at least as severe as stated in the sentence. He might not like it, but she was not ready to negotiate and exonerate him from any of the punishments he had to endure. This was all about his submission to her, and she would not have any discussions.
It was almost bedtime. She slowly removed his butt plug harness. “Show me that you learned something today!”, she said, as she handed him the plug. He held it under water, but before he could put some soap and properly rinse it, she closed the faucet and pointed with her finger first at the plug, then at his mouth. “I want it perfectly clean!” He knew what he had to do, his willpower was too broken to resist. Too much of his body was sore to risk more punishment, so he diligently licked the plug, accepting the bad smell and terrible taste of the device he had up his ass the whole day. “Very good”, she noted, clearly pleased by his progress. “This is an opportunity for you to make the best out of this sentence!”, she added. Before the training, he would have whined and complained about this task. She put his dick in a metal cock cage, kept his hands cuffed in front of his body, and removed the mask. With some more disciplining tomorrow, she was sure, his term as prisoner will have changed his behavior to the better. She locked the cell door, with a satisfied smile on her face, thinking of the plans she had for the next day.
It was a hot summer night. A light breeze coming from the fan caressed her skin as she got comfortable in their matrimonial bed. She was pleased that she was finally able to catch up on her reading, and was not forced to any socializing. Pure bliss. The night, however, was tough for him. The floor of the hot, windowless room was only covered with a towel, making it very uncomfortable to sleep. At the same time, his penis was pushing against the metal bars of the cage it was in. He turned around many times, trying to find a position in which no metal pieces would cut into his skin or in which there was too much weight on his arms. Taking it all in was his only option, and the longer he lay there, the less he was in an urge to control the situation. He finally fell asleep, until he was woken by the key turning in the lock.
***
As they were walking home from the restaurant, she reflected on her treatment. Her method of carrots and sticks was clearly working. She had always had a dominant side, despising chauvinist men and weak women alike. She couldn’t understand why some women would put up with their idiot partners, like her sister with her butt-ugly and despicable husband, or, even worse, her parents-in-law with Mr Fascist bossing around and correcting his wife at every occasion. Can you believe that her loser exes would even freak out if only she put a finger up their butthole, so preoccupied they were with being the ones in control? Casually going where the sun doesn’t shine was a quick and easy way to sift out all the narcissists and authoritarian characters who can’t handle a strong woman. Something maybe for the fourth date.
Yes, disciplining and punishing felt weird at first – after all, she was raised to behave differently with men, and she did not have much exposure to alternative lifestyles in her past. His expressions of pain, sometimes even of fear, in his face would often make her doubt whether what she was doing was right. As they spent more time together, she was able to let go of her inhibitions, and break the taboo. It felt liberating. She started dressing more aggressively, thereby setting the proper décor and making clear what was bound to happen. Gradually, their short sessions became longer and more binding. Soon enough, she would not take a no as an answer anymore. She made him treat and address her properly at all times, at home and in public. She had taken the uncontested control of the ship, knowing that this what both of them were craving for. She considered herself and truly was a natural – she wasn’t here to play. The result was that they shared a degree of closeness that few couples did. Their relationship was based on mutual trust, and respect for each other’s desires. They lived in the moment proper, truly and consciously feeling every second with each other.
What started as a fantasy became a source of bliss they experienced in the most intimate way. She knew that there were moments in which not every order she gave or measure she took pleased him – their rule that any use of the safeword had to be justified or consequences would be even worse allowed them to enter new levels of discipline and punishment. Her approach was holistic – to her, there was more than then the immediate moment. He had to take in the unpleasant in the interest of the greater good. Isn’t that the secret recipe of any successful relationship? This was not a game, not some pretend role-playing, this was and felt real. The idea that her husband was willing to submit to a level where only the medically impossible was off limits is what turned her on. Finding a functional arrangement like this one took time and effort – this was not something that would just emerge suddenly and spontaneously. Occasionally, they would sit together as equals and discuss how things are going, and express their feelings and most outlandish fantasies. Theirs was an act of true love, and the more they engaged in it, the more it turned her on. But this week was not for talking, and certainly not as equals; this week was for disciplining. Complaints went straight to the junk folder.
***
He had spent quite some time in full darkness, first under the mask, then in the pitch-black cell, so the light entering the room with his mistress blinded and hurt his eyes. It took him a while to figure out what time of the day it was. She removed his restraints and handed him his sweatpants, a t-shirt, some money, as well as his phone. “You will go for a run. I expect you to run four kilometers, and the phone will track your route. You have 35 minutes from now to be back. For every minute that you are late, you will spend ten minutes wearing a ballgag. In the interest of your jaw, be back quickly. Oh, and bring breakfast! The clock is ticking.” He put on his shoes as fast as he could, and did his best to run the distance. After the confinement, it actually felt good to be running. It took him forty minutes, however. When he got home, she had him undress immediately, and put him back in place in his daytime outfit after a brief shower: the head under the mask and the plug tightly secured again. She liked her slaves fit – laziness was an absolute no-go. However, she was still mulling the slave’s outfit. She liked having him fully exposed, there was obviously something degrading about it. But the rubber hood started something that was worth exploring: it dehumanized him, made him completely anonymous. Maybe she will get him a full bodysuit made of rubber. Isn’t that how prisons, militaries and navies work – that they uniform their members to strip them of their personality and subject them to the order? Not to mention that like this she could parade her slave at parties or make him wear it in public under his regular clothes.
“Now make coffee and prepare breakfast!” Since this was something that should become automatic, she had him do it while wearing the mask. He attempted to complain, but she would not have it. She grabbed his balls and squeezed them until he shut up.
He clumsily prepared breakfast and brought it to her bed. She made him lie on the wooden floor in front, wearing the ballgag for being late, his hands bound behind his back. “Will you ever be late again and make your Mistress wait?”, she asked after taking off the ballgag. He shook his head. “What did you learn while making the breakfast?”, she continued. He timidly looked down. “I should keep the kitchen organized so that I can easily find things”, he said softly. She shoved a piece of bread in his mouth and locked him back into his cell. After all, she still had to prepare the main part of the chastisement.
The slave will have to undergo substantial waxing on several body parts. This part of the ritual she enjoyed most. While heating up the wax, she tied his arms and legs to the bedposts, and gagged him. She cheerfully counted to five as she laid out sheets of waxing paper. Very slowly, she applied the wax to his skin on different parts of his body – mostly his belly, and his upper thighs. She pressed the sheets firmly against his skin and tore out his hairs. One sheet after the other. He tried to resist, but the restraints would only allow him the most minute of movements, and the gag silenced his moans. After the ordeal, which felt never-ending to him but just like the beginning for her, she untied him. He sighed in relief – however, he was seriously mistaken in thinking that the torment was over. She made him lie on his belly, and secured his restraints once again. She still had some plans for him, after all. This time, his back and ass were made to suffer, as she waxed them. But depilation was not enough this time. She took out a candle from the drawer. Solemnly but enjoying this moment of anticipation, she lit it, and slowly dropped wax on his irritated skin until it was fully covered in candle wax. The pain was almost unbearable for him. Unfortunately for him, she had made it very clear during sentencing that the safeword was only to be used in cases of real medical emergencies, and not for lack of amenity. Any wrongful invocation of the word would be punished by doubling up whatever treatment that triggered it. She was determined to go through with the treatment, no matter what. She clearly enjoyed the moment, the pain and helplessness he was in, at her hands and will. He was winding himself as much as the restraints would allow, sweating heavily and moaning under his gag. She was not done yet, however. The slave will receive ten lashings. This moment, she thought, was perfect to administer the spanking with the riding crop. She first spanked him softly on his ass, where some hairs left bleeding wounds, ever increasing the intensity until she administered the ten hard strokes of his sentence. She had made it clear that she expects full obedience, so whenever he reacted too strongly to her hits – when he made too much noise or tried to move too much – she did not count the hits. She hated when he complained while being punished. What started as a struggle against the agonizing strokes became a struggle with himself, having to overcome his reflexes to pain. When his drama annoyed her too much, she would squeeze his balls or poke them with the crop, showing him that things could be worse, and that she would not hesitate to make them so. Accepting the pain without resisting is an important sign of submission, and illustrated how much of the journey still lay ahead of them.
“Will that have been a lesson?”, she asked. “Yes, mistress. Thank you, mistress!” She freed him from all restraints, pulled him closer, and gently kissed him on the lips. “You will always be mine”, she whispered, as she caressed his hair. Although she was happy with the progress he made over the last days, they both knew that she was not done with him, and that the reward had not yet been earned. He still had to fully submit to her. And while she allowed him a brief moment of relaxation, she cuffed his hands together shortly after, and ordered him to give her a gentle massage. The corporal punishment was over for today – but parole was denied and an end to his sentence nowhere in sight.
She had a clear objective in mind, the ultimate test of submission. Training would continue until he would take an ice-cold shower without resisting whenever it pleased her. Forcing him to it was not possible – he was just too big and the bathroom too small to restrain him and prevent him from changing the temperature. The only way was to make him fear the repercussions of resisting and to fully accept his position as slave. She knew that he was not there yet. But this weekend was just the beginning – she had a plan of disciplining laid out until the goal was met. Furthermore, changing his mind so that he only cares about pleasing her to the fullest was the other goal of the training. She decided that he would be allowed to climax only after she did three times. This way, he would always think of her first. When it came to sex, she was a hopeless romantic – she liked the build-up: the candles, mood lighting, gentle touches. She made him lick her pussy, adjusting his head with her hands to teach him how to do it properly: not too strongly, not to softly. She pushed her legs together hard, rubbing his head on her pussy, savoring every moment of her orgasm. Another invaluable lesson! Soon, she was already planning, she will ride his ass hard with her vibrating, two-sided strap-on. That will be fun. They both went to sleep, one as a Mistress, the other as a slave, wondering how long the training will eventually take.
The End.