Mistress Motivation

Through a combination of hard work and good luck I was able to retire early last year in my mid fifties. What should have been a time to take up new activities has largely been wasted, simply put because there is no longer an imperative to be up at six every morning I've started drinking too much.

I do however have a dog who is demanding and expects a walk at about 7.20 every morning and being a creature of habit enjoys the same walk over the fields behind my house after her breakfast. So, often with a headache and feeling hungover (me not her) we head off into the fields for an hour or so.

Clearly other dogs and people have similar habits and we tend to see the same people most mornings. Cheerful good mornings are exchanged and of course the obligatory conversations held about the weather.

Among these dog walkers one has always stood out. A tall immaculately turned out lady, late fifties and attractive without trying too hard, she has two Labradors, one chocolate the other golden. She has always stopped for a slightly longer chat and while never an interrogation I realise that she knows far more about me than I do about her.

A few weeks ago, on a cold sunny morning, we stopped as normal for a chat. Somewhat inevitably, although the cold weather was helping, I was walking around in a bit of a haze, the effects of last night's excesses gently working their way out of my system.

"Good morning"how are you?" I said.

"I'm well thanks" she replied "and you?" I confessed to regretting being a little hungover at which she raised her eyebrows. "I've noticed a few mornings that you have appeared the worse for wear and wondered why, well now I know. You said you regret feeling hungover, why is that?" I explained my circumstances and how without the imperative to be up and functioning well in my relatively senior role I had found it too easy simply to drink to excess while watching TV at night. Really the simple story was one of no discipline in my life.

"I can help with that" she said. I was naturally mildly puzzled by what she meant and asked her to elaborate. "In general," she replied fixing me with a cold stare "I find my cane to possess extraordinary motivating powers."

Now, if I'd not been drinking the night before this was the point when I'd have worked out what she meant and headed rapidly off into the sunrise. As it was with my head barely capable of working out what day of the week it was I just stared back unable to work out how to reply.

"Look, why don't you come back to my house now, mine is the old farmhouse at the far end of the field and we can have a chat?" Starting to come out of my dream world I muttered that I hadn't yet had a shower that morning and was wearing dirty clothes which were definitely not up to a social visit.

"That's not a problem, you can have a quick shower at mine while I make the coffee and I'll find a dressing gown or something you can wear until it's time to leave. Now come on, let's go!" With that she turned around and headed off. Feeling completely out maneuvered I followed meekly behind while my dog continued to play with hers.

I can't remember what we talked about on the 10 minute walk back to her house but there was no further mention of her esoteric motivational techniques. Once at hers she instructed me to remove my boots and to follow her. We went upstairs to a large bedroom, the most striking feature of which was a four-poster bed. She told me that the shower and toilet if I wanted it were behind a wall at the far end - there was interestingly no door but the wall afforded privacy.

"I'll leave you to your shower" she said "leave your clothes on the bed and I'll leave something appropriate for you to wear when you come out." I thanked her and once she left the room I quickly stripped off and headed for the shower still quite unsure how things had developed so quickly and seemingly beyond my control.

The shower was helpful and I was feeling a little refreshed. I quickly dried myself off and went back into the bedroom. There was surely some sort of mistake or maybe a joke was being played. My clothes had all disappeared and in their place was a very short lady's silk wrap with a note instructing me to put it on and to come downstairs. I checked the cupboard doors in the hope of finding something altogether more suitable but, inevitably, the doors were locked.

Accepting my fate I put the thin, and evidently mildly transparent robe on and tied the silky strap around my waste. It only just covered my cock and balls but it really was only just. I went down the stairs, feeling particularly embarrassed, to all intents and purposes I may as well have been naked. My host was in the kitchen dressed in a white blouse and tight jodhpurs, long blonde hair tied in a pony tail. She looked amazing, I felt a minor twitch below the silk robe and fought to preserve what little there was of my dignity desperately trying not to get aroused.

She smiled when she realised I was there. "Sorry about the clothing, it was the best I could find, it suits you!" She laughed and said I'd get my clothes back when I left and now to pick up my coffee and follow her. She led the way to her lounge and settled into an armchair. I continued to stand, conscious that if I were to sit my cock and balls would be on full display. She pointed to a sofa directly opposite her chair and instructed me to sit. I explained my predicament at which she laughed "just sit down, you have nothing I haven't already seen."

Face flushed I did as instructed desperately trying in vain to pull the robe down to cover my embarrassment. Trying to regain a little control I mentioned that despite being in her house with all on display I realised I had never asked her name. She knew mine as a result of the one way flow of information most mornings. "I think you should call me Mistress from now on, it seems appropriate."

I really was a long way out of my depth now and could only mutter "ok Mistress it is then." She looked at me with a wry smile. "Good. Now I mentioned my ability to help put some discipline into your life. It's clear that since you left work there have been no real consequences for bad behaviour that you actually do want to change. Would you like me to help you with that?" I nodded yes and asked how she could so so. "Quite simple really. Corporal punishment. You will need to be scrupulously honest with me. We will agree and set some targets to get you on the straight and narrow. Failure to achieve them will result in punishment - it will be painful for you but then how else will you learn?"

I looked down at my feet and realised that with no clothes, a ridiculous robe doing nothing to cover my humiliation and this very assertive lady in front of me there was only one option. "Thank you Mistress, let's give it a go." She smiled and said "very good, stand up, take off the robe and walk over to the table. You will see some things on it, bring them to me."

I hadn't noticed before, no idea how, but on the table were a leather paddle, a leather strap and most ominously a crook handled cane, dark brown, polished and about 4 feet long.

I gulped, picked them up and turned to hand them to her. She was now standing and I realised just how tall she was, roughly the same height as me. She walked to the side of the room and picked up a towel which she draped over the back of the sofa. "We will agree standards later but for the moment it is evident that however low we set the bar you have not yet achieved it. I am going to punish you now for this but it will also enable you to understand the penalty associated with future failures. This will hurt but it will be nothing compared with what future failures will receive. The reason for this is that to date you have only let yourself down. Not achieving standards in future will be letting me down. I won't tolerate that, is that clear?" I managed to blurt out "yes Mistress."

"You are going to experience all three of my motivational tools this morning. Twenty swats each with the paddle and the leather strap. I will decide later how many strokes of the cane but it will be more as your bad self destructive behaviour has been going on for some time now and you need to learn the consequences. Bend over the back of the sofa, place your hands on the seat cushion and don't move. I will count the strokes so you know where we are but you need to know that if you move or lift your hands that stroke won't count and will be repeated."

I did as instructed and wondered how on earth I had found myself in this position having set off as normal for a walk just an hour or so ago. She picked up the paddle, placed her left hand in the small of my back and rubbed the paddle gently on my exposed buttocks before WHACK.

"One." I really hadn't expected the paddle to hurt so much and grunted.

"Two." By now I was thinking I really had made a mistake and maybe I should just stop her and say thanks but I'll stop the excess drinking on my own.

"Three." Already it felt like my arse was starting to catch fire and I realised there was a long way to go. I found myself strangely unable to move and realised that my cock was now fully erect and rubbing against the towel.

She continued with the paddle for the full 20 by which time I was in some discomfort but was deriving a degree of bizarre reassurance from the firm hand exerting a small amount of pressure on my back and keeping me in position.

"Stand up for a minute." I did as instructed and tried to hide my hard cock with my hands. "Hands by your side" she commanded with a knowing smile. "We are going to break for a minute or two for you to recover and then we will continue with the leather strap." We chatted a little about how much I had drunk last night, whether this was normal and what should be considered as acceptable occasions on which to drink and what would be an appropriate volume.

"Right. Back over, same rules apply, don't move." She picked up the strap, a piece of leather about the thickness and width of a leather belt but only about 2 feet long. "This is a step up, it will be more painful than the paddle. I expect you to take it without drama."

"One." Fucking hell it hurt. "Two." For the next few minutes it felt that she was utterly merciless and I was gasping after each stroke but my cock still remained hard. Unbelievable, was I really getting turned by being destroyed by this beautiful woman? "Twenty, stand up. Hands by your side. How are you coping? I expect you are now very sore."

"I'm ok thank you Mistress, very sore but I will cope" I replied.

"Very well, now for the cane." She picked it up and whooshed it through the air a few times. I was now terrified. This was obviously going to be very very painful and nothing I had seen so far indicated that any sympathy or mercy would be shown. "Final time, for today at least. Bend over, hands on the seat and don't move. Let me remind you that if you move, if your hands come off the cushion then the stroke won't count and will be repeated. It may even be harder as I will be annoyed."

If I'm entirely honest I don't remember much of the next few minutes other than the horror of hearing that the punishment would be thirty strokes. The rest is a blur of pain, agony, arousal and the sound of my Mistress's breathing as she put real effort into each stroke. I can say I have never experienced anything like it, so very very painful and yet I couldn't or wouldn't move. I had surrendered completely.

Eventually she stopped. "Stand up and look at me." My eyes were watering but I did as told and could see that she was a little flushed from the effort she had put in. She gave me a hug and praised me for doing so well and taking the punishment. Her hand moved to my hard cock, I have no idea how it had stayed that way given the pain she had inflicted on my arse. "Let's take care of this and then we can have a chat and agree standards and next steps."

"Thank you Mistress" I said marveling at how gentle and erotic her touch was in comparison with the brutality of the past 30 minutes or so. I was in heaven, almost.