A Dream Achieved at Last

I'm sort of an early middle-aged fellow, married successfully to the same partner for over twenty years, children grown up. What should make me stand out from the crowd, or make my situation worth reading about? Simply, I've been a frustrated submissive since I can remember, with brief intervals of blissful, painful submission. This is the story of how I finally achieved my happy present state of complete and total submission to my wife, my mistress, my Domme...in a marriage that has become supremely blissful, fulfilling, painful.

I'll start back when I was a child, subjected to the whip whenever I did something naughty or caused some damage. It was always my mother who administered these disciplinary whippings, and she was severe! When I was in Grade 10, age 15, I began to attend an all-male boarding school in a distant city which had a very strict and severe disciplinary policy that involved hard beatings with whips, canes or paddles, on the bare ass, by whatever Master had witnessed an offense committed by a student. (They called themselves Masters, so I guess we were the slaves!)

I returned home to do my Grade 13, final year of high school, and I had just turned 18. I did well in my new school, was happy at home. I'd been well and frequently whipped at boarding school and I'd grown to tolerate it -- what else could you do? It was the system, and the same regimen was in place at other boarding schools.

At home while I was in Grade 13 my mother was constantly finding fault with me and seeking occasions to punish me. Being soundly beaten every week by Mother puzzled me for a while, until I realized two things, first of which was that Mother did this because she wanted to, needed to subject me to punishment, and she enjoyed the experience of inflicting pain on me. Even stranger, when I thought about it, I realized that I loved her and enjoyed submitting to her, pleasing her by obeying her commands to strip off my clothes, bend over a chair or wherever, and present my bare ass and thighs to be whipped.

One day Mother was on at me about some fault or other (I hadn't folded my clothes carefully away, I hadn't put the top on the toothpaste, I spent too long on the phone, or something like that), and I knew that this was the prologue to an angry whipping. So I stopped her in her tracks, told her to sit down and listen, because she was going to have to hear me out. Dumbfounded, she agreed.

"Mother, I'm 18 now, an adult, I'm even bigger than you, and I don't have to put up with you finding faults with me the way you do --" she began to protest, and I silenced her. "No! hear me out, as you agreed. I have come to realize that you seek occasions to punish me, not because you are angry with me over some little fault, but because you enjoy the experience of whipping me. Admit it -- I'm right, aren't I?"

Mother thought about it for a minute, and slowly agreed, as if ashamed to admit it.

I went on, "I too have a confession to make. I'm your son, I love you, and I want to make you happy. So I am happy to submit to you -- you don't need to pretend to be angry, but just tell me whenever you want to whip me, and I will be happy to submit to your commands. You need to dominate, and I need to submit, to obey your desires. I enjoy the severe pain you inflict on me, because I know it pleases you."

Mother looked at me, astonished, for a long minute, and then her face broke into a wide smile! "I have just heard the most wonderful thing in years! I have to admit that I enjoy whipping you, and now to hear that you enjoy obeying, submitting to being beaten is unbelievable! We can continue doing, as friends,

what I have been (I thought) forcing upon you. So I can ask you politely, rather than shouting at you! And I don't have to pretend to be angry over some little fault, making you submit to correction. Wonderful! So, strip off your clothes, lie down on the end of my bed with your tummy on these pillows to raise your ass for me, make yourself comfortable, and I will do what I have been wanting to do all day, to beat you soundly with this paddle."

"Happily and willingly, Mother," I replied with a smile. She arranged the pillows while I lost my clothes, and when I turned to her she looked me up and down thoughtfully.

"You know," she said excitedly, "you are grown up now, but you will always be my little boy...come into the bathroom with me, get into the bath, and I will shave your cock, balls and crotch so you are as smooth as a baby's bottom, like you were as a little boy."

I got into the bath and stood, facing her, legs apart. She began with Father's beard trimmer clippers, and quickly reduced my luxuriant bush to a uniform eighth of an inch of stubble. Then with warm water and soap she lathered me generously, over my stomach, balls, cock, crotch and ass. The attention made my cock swell and rise towards nearly its full seven inches of stiff flesh. "Oh my," said mother delightedly, "my little boy has grown into big hard manhood! But we can't let that get in the way...just a minute 'til I get my riding crop, and we'll see about that!"

The excitement of standing there, soap dripping off my warm genitals, waiting for Mother to return with her riding crop made my cock swell even further to its rampant steel-hard fullness, while at the same time I feared the pain I was shortly to suffer.

Mother returned, crop in hand, her eyes bright with excitement. "Wow!" she exclaimed, "even bigger and harder! I can use that as a handle while I'm shaving you clean, and then we'll see what else we can do with it." Taking a razor in one hand, she held my cock with the other, holding it down to shave my stomach, up to shave my balls, and to each side as needed. She then held my balls out of the way, drew my legs farther apart, and quickly cleaned my crotch of its stubble.

"Now turn around, legs apart, bend over, and hold your ass cheeks apart with your hands, while I shave your ass." I felt the blade being drawn upwards, then downwards, on each cheek. "There now, all done! Smooth like a little boy. I'll just rinse you off, let you get out of the tub and dry yourself, and then we'll deal with that great stiff hard-on you're sporting!"

Obedient, I complied. "Let's see now," she mused, "that's too impressive a cock to waste, but it would be wasted on me 'cos I'm your mother, and I'm not interested in incest. So, turn around, face the bathtub, and pleasure yourself. Get your right hand in play, and masturbate! I want to see great gobs of your semen spurt out into the tub, and I will stand here, watch, and encourage you with this riding crop across the backs of your thighs."

Astonished, I turned. Jack off with Mother watching? Strange. I wrapped my hand around my rod and began the rhythmic stroking. After about fifteen pumps I heard the 'swish' of the crop and felt the sharp sting of the lash across my legs, just at the point where they met my ass cheeks. OW!! The tenderest spot. "Come on, come on -- stroke harder! I haven't got all day!"

Agonized, I upped the frequency and force of my pumping hand, and steadied myself on the wall with my left hand while I worked on my cock. After a minute I sensed that unique warm feeling that begins deep inside and travels through my whole nether region, from my balls to my now tender cock. "Unhh! Unhh! Unhh" I groaned and grunted as spurt after spurt of my cum blasted out of me, three, four, five

ropes, cascading down into all parts of the bathtub. Exhausted, I stopped and rested, with my cock slowly subsiding and becoming a little flaccid.

"Whew!" exclaimed Mother, "that was quite a show! Now, wipe off your cock, clean up the bathtub, and then come to me in the bedroom." Obediently, I complied.

"Now, we have to be clear about what will happen to your cock if you have further erections in my presence. Raise your hands to the top of your head, and turn to face me" she commanded. Again, I obeyed, conscious of how exposed my cock and balls were. "It's not really fair to punish your cock for today, since my holding it and fondling it probably caused your erection..."

"Whatever you want to do to my cock, now or anytime, is up to you," I replied. "My cock, like my ass or any other part of me, is available for your pleasure anytime you ask. I submit completely to you."

"I'll give you just a taste here with a single stroke with the riding crop", Mother said pensively. "If you have another erection in my presence, I'll assume that your cock is yearning for attention, and I will punish it directly when it happens -- the usual punishment will be three lashes. Now, close your eyes."

I scrunched up my eyes and waited; Mother trailed the riding crop over my shoulders, down my back, across my ass, probing between my cheeks, around my side. Then I felt it pushing between my slightly parted legs, tickling my balls, and (damn!) exciting my cock to begin rising, stiffening.

Next I heard the swift "swish" of the crop, and the white-hot impact of the blow across the tip of my agonised cock, just behind the glans. "Owowow!" I screamed as I brought my hands down to protect my genitals, as I bent double and writhed around the room, screaming and crying.

As my sobs subsided, mother spoke. "Imagine if you had to stand up and take two more of those lashes."

I stood to attention, placed my hands on my head, closed my eyes. "I'm ready whenever you wish to deliver those lashes - my cock is ready. Not eager, but ready."

"Not now," she sighed, "but probably later. Now come and arrange yourself comfortably over these pillows, and I will give you ten hard strokes with my paddle." So soon I was lying as requested, happy in knowing that Mother shared in a mutual experience of pain, domination, submission, as I endured ten agonizing blows. Whack! WHACK! one after another, from her evil-looking paddle, two feet long and 2 inches across. Wonderful painful punishment!! -- not for being a bad son, but for being a good sub.

A good sub with a very sore red ass, and an agonized tender cock. And a nice new relationship with Mother.

So this was the way things went on through Grade 13 -- Mother requested that I submit to a whipping about once a week, and she was always willing to thrash me more often if I wanted a beating. Sometimes I worked on having an erection, as she began, and the whippings of my cock reminded me of what insupportable pain felt like. She seemed happy with our arrangements, and so was I. My father came to know about our relationship, and he remarked how much happier Mother was to have me at home, submitting to her, as he had long refused to do.

I discovered girls, after years of sequestration from the female sex while I was at boarding school, and they seemed to like me! I sometimes had to explain why I was sporting welts or bruises on my intimate parts, but I passed them off as punishments and never divulged my secret arrangements with Mother. It didn't interfere with my sex life either, because some girls took pity on me as a victim, while others,

seeing my welts, wanted to dominate me themselves. I enjoyed the variety, between being coddled and being punished; the usual result of either was a close and satisfying fuck. I never said no.

But all good things had to come to an almost end, since I went to university in a distant city, and on work-study terms too, which meant I did not get long holidays. I looked forward with eager anticipation, when I travelled home for a weekend or a holiday break, to suffering a severe thrashing or two, since absence, you might say, seemed to make Mother's arm grow stronger!

My father always commented on how my mother was a changed woman after my visits, more loving, sunny and cheerful, so I guess the exercise was as good for her as was the experience of her total domination for me. And I had come to realize that I needed to submit completely, to experience and withstand pain that had been inflicted by a more dominant person whom I wished to please.

Dommes don't grow on trees, so my journeys farther abroad to graduate school led to a lengthy hiatus, during which time I married happily, landed a good position at another university, fathered several lovely children, gained tenure and, in other words, lived my life. I always acted submissively to my wife Lily, gratifying her wishes and letting her make the decisions. But such habitual submissiveness was not enough, and so one day I screwed my courage up and asked my wife if she would spank me. Her response was brutal, negative: "are you out of your ***king mind?? I would never commit such violence on anyone!!"

Months of persuasion failed to move her. I made, in my basement workshop, an oak paddle, 2 inches wide by twenty inches long, with a comfortable handle, like the one Mother had once used. I took three leather belts, and from them I cut out a cat of 9 tails, each tail being about a quarter by an eighth of an inch and about 16 inches long; the handle was about 14 inches long, so one could get in a really hard swing with it! And I made an excellent beating stick out of an old axe handle -- the curve of the handle made it very comfortable to wield, and the weight was perfect to inflict pain. All of them beautifully finished, stained and varnished.

But none of these implements tempted my wife in the least -- in fact, she made me stop showing them to her (and, submissively, I agreed). There things rested, until a phone call changed my life.

A younger colleague, an attractive athletic Asian woman about 30 years old, had coffee with me fairly regularly in the staff lounge at the university. We shared lots of stuff, and she became a good friend, but there was no hint of any desire for sexual infidelity. Both happily married professors. One night I got a call from her on my cell phone -- she said she had something important to discuss with me, so could we meet and have lunch off-campus? No problem! Lunch with her was always a pleasant experience, so we picked a restaurant, and set the day. The place was not too busy, so we snagged a corner table, secluded and private.

We dawdled over our soup and sandwiches, small talk, and I sensed that there was something important, potentially embarassing that she wanted to bring up. So I said, "you know Jean, probably the best course is just to come out with whatever's on your mind. We're friends, and you know you can trust me absolutely to honour a confidence."

Jean replied, "this is difficult to explain, even to a good friend, and harder to ask. You know I love my husband very much, and we are very happy and compatible together. But there is one thing that I need,

that I want him to do, and he refuses, so I don't know what I should do. So, so...I thought I would ask you...what would you say if I were to ask you...ask you to spank me?"

I choked on the bite of my sandwich, took a drink of my coffee, and thought about her request. "I take it you are a submissive?" Jean nodded hesitantly. So I went on, "let me tell you something that may sound strange. You need to be spanked, and your husband is not willing. I also need to be spanked, and my wife similarly refuses to have anything to do with my need."

Jean's eyes widened with surprise and, I thought, excitement.

I went on. "I knew I was submissive when I was young, and all through my teenage years at boarding school I suffered, or perhaps I shoulld say enjoyed, periodic hard whippings from the Masters, as they called themselves. My dominant mother used to spank me, and in Grade 13 when I was home we developed a mutually satisfactory domme -- sub relationship that lasted (though more infrequent) through university. But I haven't had a beating since I met Lily and we got married, and I really want one, need one. So it seems that we could help each other? Would you whip me, if I in turn whipped you?

By this time Jean's eyes were wide, her mouth open, dumbfounded...several moments of silence passed. Finally she said "w-w-when can we start? We seem to have moved from talking about 'spanking' to 'whipping', which is what I really want, but was afraid to ask!"

Jean went on. "My story. Like you, I got a taste for being whipped when I was younger, in university. In my sorority where believe it or not, each week in our meetings a first-year member was chosen by lot, stripped naked, tied between two posts, and whipped soundly by all the senior members while the other first-year members watched. Since in my first year there were only six of us, it fell to my lot fairly frequently -- I heard later that the balloting was rigged because I made such lovely noises when the blows fell. But I also enjoyed withstanding the pain, and I admitted to myself that I looked forward to my times tied to the posts, giving pleasure to my older sisters. When I got into second year and beyond, I also took great pleasure in wielding the whip, as I remembered my sessions as its willing victim. But I too have not had a whipping in over ten years of marriage, and my ass yearns for one. And for more than one."

One of those pregnant silences followed, as thoughts raced through both of our minds. "First off," I said, "we'd have to agree that there would be no sex. I'm faithful to my wife, as you are to your husband. And I think we'd have to tell our spouses about our arrangement -- not about every meeting, but just the fact that whippings would be taking place at intervals, after which we'd be returning home sporting welts, bruises, whatever -- the results of our mutual thrashings."

Jean paused for a moment. "Like I asked, when and where can we have our first session? I agree with everything you just said, but there's other things we'd have to settle when we meet. I have a heavy riding crop and a rattan cane that I can bring to our sessions -- what about you?"

"I made three things to try to tempt my wife to dominate me -- a heavy oak paddle, a cat of nine tails, and a beating stick fashioned from an old axe handle. They're all beautifully made -- I'm proud of my handiwork! Let's discuss everything else when we are together, before we begin our first session, rather than here in a restaurant -- let's just enjoy our lunch."

So we did, and agreed. I don't know about Jean, but convincing my wife was hard; however, she knew that I had been desiring physical punishment, needing domination, for years, and that I was submissive by nature, so she finally agreed, with one stipulation that I agreed to discuss with Jean: my wife wanted to witness a session! Jean, in her turn, secured agreement, and we met on a Thursday afternoon when we had no university commitments. The first meeting was at my house, and Jean showed up on time with her bag of whipping implements.

It turned out that Jean's husband Ron also wanted to witness a session. We wondered if they might like to come together -- Jean playfully suggested that we could sell tickets! We agreed to suggest that we might video a session, so that each of us could watch it with our spouses, and then we could ask them if they wanted to attend in person, making clear that this was perfectly ok with us -- we had nothing to hide from either of them. And we could sell tickets!

Having got that done with, I said "the next thing we have to discuss is limits. I have none -- you can inflict any pain on me that doesn't cause permanent injury, and I will endure it. But, to reassure you, you need to think of a 'safe word' that you can say that will immediately stop the session; after that you can either end it completely or re-start with limitations as you desire. I want you to feel safe as my submissive, while you experience pain at my hands."

Jean thought for a minute. "My word will be 'raspberry'. Next question is, who's going to go first?" We agreed to toss two coins, evens meaning me first as submissive, odd meaning Jean would be whipped first. Then at the next meeting the order of sessions would be reversed.