I read somewhere that a stiff dick has no conscience. Being a woman in my 40's, I have witnessed many things in my life, not the least of which have been what men will do if they think they might get laid. Having been seduced out of my clothes and into their beds, I learned after they got what they wanted, it was, "you still here?" I have done the walk of shame many times. Too many times.
I knew deep within it was my fault. I was a romantic; looking for Mr. Right and finding only Mr. Right Now. D'Andre promised me the sun and moon. His love making skills were second to none and he swept me off my feet and into a Las Vegas marriage. I was happy to pick up the tabs for our marriage, subsequent honeymoon, and most everything else. I wasn't rich, not like Bezos or other Tech giants but I was comfortable. My parents left me a bit of cash and lots of stocks and bonds all of which allowed me to live comfortably without the stress of the work-a-day individual.
I had an inkling that my husband was spreading his big black cock around. It hurt me but I resolved to keep our marriage afloat. D would promise it would never happen again. And yet it continued. I didn't know whether he thought I was an idiot or he was that stupid. Lipstick on his collars, the diminishing scent of perfume on him when he'd come home late from work. It hurt. It made me resentful. I thought nothing he could do could be worse than cheating on me, but I was wrong.
Having tossed out my husband, I was looking for a man with whom I would exact my revenge.
To call what I wanted to do getting even would only be half right. Men have used me, abused me though not in a physical way. No, some have made promises they never intended to keep. And while I know it's my fault for being too trusting, my now ex-husband used my bank account to spend my money on his side-bitch. I had the checks on which he forged my name. I kept them with a plan to use them in the future.
So, if I seem bitter, it's because of men. Now I would turn the tables on some unsuspecting man. I'd find one who I would make into the perfect male. I planned to break his spirit and make him the perfect pussy.
I wasn't Milton's fault. What was about to happen to him was all my doing. I don't blame you if you hate me for it, but I had made up my mind to exact karma on some unsuspecting male.
I met Milton by chance. He was seated by himself at a restaurant during a lunch rush. When I looked around, his was the only table where there was any remaining seat. When I asked if I could join him, he blushed and stuttered "please do, ma'am."
Any attempts I made to start a dialogue was met with non-committal shyness. That told me that my lunch partner was inexperienced and uncomfortable in social situations with females.
It took a while but he finally told me his age, 23. He said he had an entry level job at some store. I forget, I wasn't all that interested in his particulars. I wanted to know him. I sensed there might be some potential in the young man.
As our time passed, my instincts were proven correct. He was a bit timid, lacked confidence, and could use some guidance. There seemed to be a plus side to this male. He was very polite.
In short order, I could see that Milton could be molded into something useful. On the outside he was pleasant looking. Blue eyes lit up when he showed his goofy smile. At 5' 8", he had a less than medium build. I thought that he was out of his element when in the company of a woman. Recently single again, I decided to make Milton my project.
His over-the-top politeness and the way he let me let lead the conversation told me that he had been primed to respond respectfully to women. He wasn't the usual dickhead that would ramble on about how great he is, how many women he'd conquered, his favorite sport teams. No, Milton sat and answered my questions with some prodding on my behalf, which, if he was being honest, told me more about him than I would learn if he just ran his mouth like so many men do.
I decided I'd push the envelope.
"Tell me about your childhood, Milton," I said. It was not a request but had the underlying manifestation of an order.
"My father split before I was born," he began. "I was raised by my mom, my grandmother, and an aunt."
"Uh huh. Go on. How was it being the only male in a female environment?"
I saw the look on his face as he recalled some uncomfortable history. "They were very strict with me," he said blushing at the memory. "Nana would punish me for the slightest infraction."
He had my interest. "How did she punish you?"
He was so cute when he could not make eye contact but looked at his hands folded in his lap. "Milton, I asked you a question. Rude boys get punished," I snapped at him hoping to get a reaction.
I knew I was moving fast. I didn't want to waste time on this male. He could leave now or stay. Look, if he just left, no harm, no foul. I'd lost nothing. But stay he did.
His sudden intake of breath let me know I'd struck a chord. I knew instinctively that Milton had been trained by women to obey. That was something I needed for myself. Thus far, the men I have had the displeasure to be involved with had been the macho types. The kind that would care only for themselves when we had sex and everything else. They were like, wham, bam, thank you ma'am and then it was off to sleep or back to the TV..... or in D'Andre's case, back to one of his side-bitches.
"Nana would have me get her a switch, " Milton whispered as he recalled those events.
"And?" I prodded.
"Nana would have me pull my pants and underpants off and bend over the ottoman. Then she would chastise me for being late or impolite as she raised welts on my bare bottom."
"Impolite, Milton?" I questioned him.
"Yes ma'am. If my manners were slacking off, you know, if I forgot to say yes ma'am or yes Nana and just said yeah, she would correct my behavior with the switch she made me fetch for her. If my room was a mess, my bed unmade or I hadn't cleaned the house properly, mother or my aunt would use their hand on my bare bottom."
"And were your mother, grandmother, and Aunt there to watch whenever one of them punished you and saw your privates?"
He took a quick breath, "Yes ma'am. Most of he time."
The men I'd been with lacked the devotion to me that I craved. They lacked the ambition to be there for something other than their cock. This young man on the other hand had been trained to respect and defer to women, to put the needs of women ahead of his own. Milton had been taught that should his efforts fall short of the expected desires of the women in his life, corporal punishment would quickly and ensue.
"Milton, please tell me when you received your last bare-bottom spanking."
He blushed. Of course, he blushed. He was telling me his deepest, darkest secrets. Things he would never tell another male, he was unable to keep from me. I could hardly contain my excitement.
"Um, well, my last bare bottom spanking was the night before I turned 21, ma'am."
"Why was that your last?" I asked the blushing and very uncomfortable male.
"Please, ma'am, don't make me tell you that. Please," he whined.
Oh, he was going to tell me alright. We'd gotten this far. I'm going to have him cross the finish line whether he wanted to or not.
"Milton," I whispered.
"I got hard, ma'am," he said turning a deep crimson almost in tears.
"Shhh, baby boy. It's okay. I know you did. I just wanted you to be open and honest with me. I think it's a fine thing that you enjoyed your spankings."
"You, you do?"
"Ma'am," I corrected him.
"Sorry ma'am. You think it's not bad for me to enjoy, um..."
"Your bare-bottom spankings," I finished for him.
"Yes ma'am," he said looking down at his lap again.
