Warning: contains depiction of mutually consenting adult BDSM
Stephen was middle-aged, heavily built though in no way athletic, and his unkempt hair was starting to thin. He had always been a good businessman, and had excelled in his field. His competent steadiness had brought rewards, and he could now live reasonably comfortably.
He awoke, alone, as he had done for a thousand mornings since his wife had left him for someone 'more dynamic'. He didn't miss her. A dynamic lover himself, he was not, although this did not stop him fantasising for most of his waking hours. But his make-believe private thoughts did not involve making love to women, whether or not they exuded any degree of sexual allure. This was not due to any particular alignment of his sexuality, but resulted from his compulsion to be used, humiliated, punished, and generally dominated by a confident well-practised lady.
However, he knew he was unlikely to meet anyone in his everyday life who would go near to indulging him with his particular cravings. He didn't possess the necessary social skills to develop any such relationship anyway. So he had, the previous day, finally succumbed to seeking 'professional help'. In the cold light of morning, he reviewed the events of that day.
"My word," she had said, "we haven't been disciplined recently, have we, Steffi?" She was alluding to his blemish-free backside, adding "...not by me, anyway."
The residual throb now reminded him of the breathtaking effect of his inaugural bare-bottom caning. He recalled how it seemed to disable his balance control system. His knees had given way. Everything had given way. Only the restraining leather straps had prevented him collapsing in an ungainly heap on her floor.
He had wanted instinctively to clutch his backside cheeks, but the wrist cuffs prohibited any such attempt at pain limitation. Momentarily he had wanted out. To quit. To abandon the session. Apologise for wasting Mistress's time. But by making coherent speech impossible, the tight belt around his mouth had frustrated that idea too. "No clenching, Steffikins - that's naughty," she had said. He had read somewhere that clenching buttocks constituted resistance to Mistress's will, and extra punishment might well be awarded. He therefore tried not to clench, but found it too difficult. Total submission was the only option that remained.