Not to mince matters, my partner had lost interest in me (and in other men) and had managed to become besotted by women. Yes, she fancied the girl next door, but she didn’t fancy me any more. Ugh! It wasn’t as if she welcomed it. She insisted she was trying to fight it, but the fact remained other women sensed her interest in them (sexual interest) and she couldn’t resist when they opened their arms to her. And not, it seemed, just their arms.
It was a disaster, after only six months of what had been a happy relationship. So what to do about it? Elizabeth (Lizzy for short) told me she was so ashamed . . . desperate to get back to normalcy . . . would do anything I suggested. Anything! I was all for action, and put on my thinking cap. Then I put on my hat and coat and went to see the local Madam.
Madame Sevère was her name. I visited her from time to time whenever I felt a need to be submissive to and hurt by a beautiful woman. Which was about once a month, so I knew her pretty well. She was superb with a cane. We talked over the problem, and I made an appointment for the next evening. Back home, Lizzy listened to my plans, was horrified, but reluctantly agreed. Next evening found us knocking at Madame’s door.
Madame was magnificent. Very tall, with a fine figure and jet black hair tumbling around her shoulders, she was dressed in black. A basque supported but did little to conceal a pair of majestic breasts, and revealed, not to say emphasised, her jutting buttocks. Thigh boots and long silk gloves completed the picture of the ideal domina. I glanced at Lizzy. Her jaw had dropped open and she gazed fascinated at Madame. I swear that a trickle of saliva escaped from the corner of her mouth.
We entered what Madame called her playroom. There was a lot of equipment around the walls, and a large collection of punishment instruments and bondage gear, mostly leather straps with buckles and studs, hanging from racks. A bin contained a collection of canes. Lizzy looked around in alarm, but she was given no time for thought.
I was given a seat in the corner and Madame made Lizzy undress in front of us. ‘I want you stark naked, as fast as you can,’ with lots of finger snapping and heel tapping. Lizzy stripped off in a feverish hurry. She knew her figure was not perfect. She bulged more than was ideal, but some people, including me, liked it. Liked her plump and floppy breasts, which dropped when she removed her bra in a way that always had my brain swimming. (Oh, how I loved to immerse my face in those breasts, almost liquid in the way they would flow into every contour of my face). Liked her tummy which I would kneed in my hands. And positively adored her fat and bouncy buttocks in which I could swim for hours. As she looked up aghast at the imperious Madame, Lizzy was utterly adorable and most vulnerable.
It took only a couple of minutes to secure Lizzy to a hoist. Wrists were strapped together and clipped onto a chain which Madame used to stretch Lizzy’s arms towards the ceiling. Ankles were also fitted with straps and clipped together. Madame reached for a whip with many evil-looking leather thongs. Standing over Lizzy, very close to her, Madame explained what she was about to do. ‘I shall make you associate women, especially desirable and half-clad women, with pain and suffering. You will dread my company, and you will fear your visits to me. It is the principle of “Pavlov’s Dogs”. Are you familiar with that theory? It can be very effective. By the time I’ve finished with you, you’ll regard the man in your life as gentle, sweet and considerate, and you will crave his affection. To bring you to that state, I shall be brutal with you. Do you accept all that?’
Lizzy nodded miserably, and Madame took that as sufficient confirmation of my instructions. Madame started work. The cat was a heavy one, and I winced as it struck Lizzy on her ample behind. She was sobbing and calling out almost from the first stroke. A dozen measured strokes fell on that bottom before Madame paused for her first breather. The skin was already beyond the pink stage. Already angry-looking in places, it was no wonder Lizzy showed signs of distress. Madame started again. Another dozen strokes and the skin had taken a glossy sheen and was turning purple.
Madame took her down from the hoist and hustled her over to a wooden trestle, with a narrow padded top. Lizzy was made to lie along the trestle and the wrist and ankle straps were fastened to the frame. I admired Lizzy’s plump body as the flesh settled over the woodwork, seemingly enveloping it. Her legs were pulled forward either side of the trestle, slightly bent, pushing the bottom into maximum prominence. That bottom looked wider and fuller than I had ever seen it, and her genital area was in full view.
When the cane began to smack into it the shockwaves shimmered across the surface, presenting the most erotic images. Lizzy screamed at every brutal cut, and I thrilled at the scene. That would teach the bitch to be a lesbian! I watched Madame as she swung her magnificent body into the stroke, admiring her poise as she drew back the cane ready for another cut. Each stroke created a mark, weals rising at once, angry red marks that deepened in the seconds and minutes following their creation. Stripe after stripe was laid on. There was a pause after each one during which Madame held the cane in both hands, idly smoothing the wood in her fingers as if she loved the feel of it. Which I’m sure she did.
I watched her haunches in the wall-mirror behind her. They relaxed into fullness when she paused between strokes. But just as she swung her body into the turn the muscles went taut and her buttocks quivered under the tension. I was fascinated by that, and kept my eyes on those haunches for stroke after stroke.
What with the working of Madame’s body, the swish and crack of the cane, and Lizzy’s cries I was overwhelmed by the erotic scene. Suddenly I realised the beating had stopped and Madame Sevère was looking at me. I pulled myself together. There were six brilliant stripes on those buttocks, but this was to be only the start of a long evening of punishment.
‘You can leave this to me, now, Jonathon. You’d better go home. Lizzy will be with me all night, and I’ll work on her until morning. You can collect her at ten in the morning.’ And with that she turned her lovely back on me and started working on Lizzy’s bonds. Reluctantly, for I had been relishing the sight of Madame at work, and of the cane biting into someone else’s flesh for a change, I left the house to spend a lonely evening by myself.
In the morning I was knocking on Madame’s door at ten, on the dot. Late the previous evening I had started to worry that the treatment meted out to Lizzy might be too heavy. Could she stand such a prolonged whipping? Would she always resent me for subjecting her to such brutal treatment? I had been worrying about the state of her. Would her skin be torn and bleeding, especially on her buttocks? What other parts of her body had been punished? The erotic images were still thrilling me, and I had come with a gigantic climax which had allowed me at last to go to sleep. So it was with some feeling of guilt that I stood on Madame’s doorstep.
When Madame Sevère let me in, I rushed up to Lizzy. She was standing calmly in the hall, and smiled at me as I approached. I took her in my arms and kissed her. She responded, better than I had hoped. Quite warmly, actually. Had it worked? Had she seen the light and decided she wanted to come back to me? I asked Madame if I could inspect Lizzy’s buttocks. ‘Of course you can, my dear,’ said Madame. ‘Go into the playroom, Lizzy, and take off your skirt.’
Lizzy stripped for me, and when she had removed her knickers she turned away and bent slightly forward from the waist, pushing her bottom out towards me. I looked at her in astonishment. There, large as life, were six stripes. They had gone purple overnight and had thickened slightly, and looked even angrier than when I had last seen them. There was no doubt they were six of the most severe canestrokes. But why only six? I’d expected far more. Those were the six stripes I had observed before leaving the previous night. The deal was that the whipping and caning would continue at intervals until bedtime. Periods of punishment were to have been interspersed with exposure to Madame’s body. The sight of Madame’s naked flesh and the sensations of female lovemaking were to have been cancelled out by subsequent agonising whipping. That way, Lizzy would have come to associate Sapphic love with unpleasantness, pain and humiliation.
I looked at Madame Sevère for an explanation.
‘I’ve had second thoughts about Lizzy,’ she explained. ‘We had a long talk after you left last night. I liked Lizzy. And she seemed to like me. So I took her to bed, and we made love most of the night.’
I was flabbergasted. I looked from Madame to Lizzy and back again. My mouth had dropped open, and before I could collect myself Lizzy had moved to Madame’s side and put her arms about her. Lizzy raised her head to be kissed, and Madame obliged. They pressed their bodies together and Lizzy trembled as her passion took over.
I had not been altogether forgotten. After a long couple of minutes Madame took her mouth away from Lizzy and looked hard at me. ‘I’ve decided that Lizzy is far too precious to be whipped for a man’s pleasure. For my pleasure perhaps, yes. But not for a man’s. In fact, I want you to know that during our long talk I explained to her that although it is my business to whip and cane my clients, mostly men, I do have special feelings of my own. Sometimes I have this awful longing to be whipped myself. Last night I felt this so strongly in Lizzy’s presence that I asked her to whip me. Which she was gracious enough to do. While under the lash, I came to admire her. And by the time it was all over, I was in love with her. So Lizzy will be living with me from now on.
It was my turn to be left open-mouthed. So I had lost Lizzie for ever. My heart was in turmoil.
I turned on my heel and left the house. As I closed the front door it slipped out of my hand and I accidentally caused a rather loud bang.
Next morning, after an evening spent on the phone to a rather attractive young woman from my office, (we had agreed that she was lonely in her flat, I was lonely in my house, and there was a fairly obvious way of solving both problems), I was looking forward to a new phase of my life. Not without a pang of regret for Lizzy, though, for she had been a cracking goer in her time. When the phone rang. Madame Sevère. She wanted to see me again. They both wanted to see me. So I lost no time in walking round to the great lady’s place.
They interviewed me together. Madame did all the talking. Lizzy stood alongside her looking very beautiful, very serene, and giving nothing away in her expression. There was no move to welcome me, no kiss of greeting. Just a formal ‘Good morning, Jonathon’ from Madame. I stood meekly in front of them.
‘I didn’t like your attitude yesterday, Jonathon.’ This from Madame S. ‘Neither of us liked your attitude. We require an apology from you, if you please.’
I was astonished. Just stood there open-mouthed.
‘Not content with marching away without a word, you actually slammed the front door. How childish is that! I thought you were a grown-up, Jonathon. How wrong I was. And now you stand there, dumb. You haven’t the good manners even to say you are sorry. And what a sorry picture you are!’ She actually walked round me, examining me like an exhibit in a gallery. ‘I’m going to teach you a lesson, Jonathon. I’m going to flog you. I’m going to whip some manners into you, and Lizzy is going to help. Go into the playroom!’
She was close in front of me now. Her hands were at my crutch and I realised she was undoing my zip. She rummaged inside and somehow got inside my underpants. She was searching for something special I kept in there, and she soon found it. It was growing by the second, especially when her strong fingers closed round it. She dragged it out and held it firmly in her hand. She started off towards the door, dragging me by the prick. Lizzy followed.
In the playroom the whipping bench was ready in the very centre of the room. Lizzy undressed me, a process that had my erection swinging forward and up. In no time I was naked. It still had not sunk into my mind that I was in for a humiliating and painful time. I could only think of the eroticism of the scene. The only light was from a spotlight directed at one end of the bench. The end I was going to be bent over. There was a padded step, on which I was made to kneel. Leather straps hung from the step. They were passed over my lower legs and fastened tight by Lizzy. The padded table top was at a higher level, and I was made to lay my torso onto the surface. The leather was cold to my chest. I felt Lizzy pass a heavy strap over my back and gasped as she yanked it tight. The buckles now held me securely. There would be no opting out. No climbing off the table when I’d had enough. I was well and truly in their hands. My wrists, too, were fastened to the woodwork of the table by straps and buckles. At least I could move my head, and I watched the two of them at work in the large wall-mirror in front of me.
‘I have often caned you, Jonathon. Quite a licking I’ve given you from time to time. But this is going to be different. This time its not for your pleasure; its for ours. This time it will be punishment, pure and simple. For that reason only the cane will be used. No gentle spanking to get you used to pain. No strapping with the effort spread over a wide area. The cane, for pain and effect. Your bottom, Jonathon, is going to resemble a rainbow. And it will be as ridged as a ploughed field.’ With those ominous words she turned away and took a wicked-looking cane from Lizzy.
Madam Severe gave me six strokes. They stung like the devil. I watched in the mirror. I saw her breasts shimmy as she swung her body into each stroke, and it was wonderful. I was surprised when she stopped. It did not feel as though I’d been dealt with as severely as she had promised. I waited for them to unfasten me.
When the straps were not touched, I looked up. In the mirror I saw the two of them deep in conversation. Eventually they looked up and came over to me. Madam Severe was as usual the spokeswoman. ‘I’ve decided that your punishment should be continued by Elizabeth. Yes, I expect you to call her that in future. There will be no more familiarity. No nicknames. Elizabeth is her name as far as you are concerned, Jonathon. Indeed you will probably be expected to call her Mistress Elizabeth from now on. I’ve been coaching her in the use of the cane, and she has practiced on cushions in my bedroom. She has even practised on myself. So now she is to have her first chance on a real live male backside. Yours! I think you will find her standard is remarkably high for one so inexperienced. Lizzy, lets prepare you first.”
Madame unbuttoned Lizzie’s jacket and slipped it off her shoulders. I watched in the mirror. To my amazement (and I admit, to my delight) she undressed Lizzy completely. Surely Lizzy wasn’t going to be naked when caning me? Actually, not. Madame produced a corset or basque of some sort, and placed it against Lizzy’s ample body. It had to be fastened at the back, and Madame worked at it for some time, tightening the garment with strings. When she was satisfied, Lizzy’s breasts were pushed high and together, emphasising their size and making them wonderfully rounded. The nipples showing over the rim of the corset were enlarged, revealing quite plainly Lizzy’s excitement. Stockings were now rolled over Lizzy’s legs. Black net stockings as you would expect a vamp to wear. Four or five fasteners hung down from each side of the corset, and each was carefully clipped onto the stockings. I loved this striptease in reverse. If anything it was more erotic than a real striptease. Shiny black pumps with slender heels completed the effect, making her legs look much longer. Hardly “legs up to her armpits,” but I was impressed. I was seeing Lizzy in a new light. I had never even considered that she might be dominant. Yet here she was looking as if she had been queening it over cringing men all her life. She was smiling, but not with her eyes. There was something in them that told me she was going to hurt me terribly.
‘Turn round’ said Madame. Lizzy spun on her high heel. I got a look at those buttocks. Wow! The corset pulled in the puppy fat of her tummy, and made her look almost slim. The buttocks, though! There was nothing slim about them. The flesh jutted out immediately below the hem of the corset, bulbous, generous, and promising domination over a mere submissive man’s dignity. At that moment I lusted after those buttocks, and ached to feel them flatten over my face. ‘You’ll do splendidly, my dear,’ said Madame Sevère.
I would have had an erection if my prick had not been flattened against the table. But I knew the next few minutes were not for sexual enjoyment. They were for my suffering. They lost no time. Lizzy took the cane and stood beside me. As I felt her tapping the cane against me I watched her face. There was no hesitation. No reluctance. No glances of pity towards me. She took her aim and struck me with the cane.
I’d never expected leniency. But I had expected some lessening of the pain after Madame’s skilled performance. Not so! Somehow Lizzy had learned to control the cane and deliver it with the most extraordinary power. Stroke after stroke rained over my bottom allowing me no relief, no respite for recovery. The pain built up and up until I was beside myself. I made no effort to count the strokes. How many she delivered I have no idea, but it must have been well over two dozen.
Eventually she stopped. My eyes were wet and I could see nothing in the mirror. They seemed to be talking to each other, but I was too wrapped up in my own misery to attempt to listen. I was glad to relax against the table and wait for the pain level to die down, which it was doing with exquisite slowness.
They came for me and unfastened me from the table. They had to lift me from it; there was no willpower in me to climb jauntily by myself. But still I was not allowed to rest. My ordeal was not over. They fastened my wrists with chains and hoisted my arms towards a beam. They taunted my naked body. Madame had found a schooling whip which she ran over my skin until it crawled. I was unbelievably sensitive all over. My face was streaked with moisture which had seeped out of my eyes when I was under the cane, and they taunted me that I was a tearful schoolboy.
'This is what he used to do to me,’ said Lizzy and she grasped my nipples with her fingernails and squeezed until I shouted with the pain. Not true that I ever tortured her like that, but I had played with her and nipped gently until she had moaned with pleasure. This was a different world. They mocked my prick. When I was first strung up my prick was hanging sadly. After an age of teasing and taunting I was erect to an extent that seemed to enrage Lizzy. ‘Can I whip him on that,’ she asked Madame, who smiled and fetched a small leather strap, quite thin, but whose purpose was obvious. When she slapped me with it my prick didn’t know whether to be excited or dejected. In the end it sank pitifully, probably glad to present a less appetising target.
Leaving me reaching for the beam, the pair embraced in a display of lesbian love which was something quite new in my experience. They were gentle and affectionate, and explored each others’ bodies while kissing tenderly. They soon wanted something more, and broke apart to undress each other. They pulled a mattress from the wall and laid it on the floor just in front of me. They clearly intended to flaunt themselves in front of me.
Flaunt themselves they did. They treated me to a display of lesbian love and sex which I could never have imagined for myself. It was a couple of hours before they were satisfied.
At last they lifted themselves off the mattress and turned their attentions to me. They lowered my arms and at last I was able to ease my aching limbs. They allowed me to lie on the mattress where I stretched, relaxed and rested, the aches and pains in my poor body gradually easing. Later they fetched me. I was made to lie on the dining table, still naked. They stretched me out again, spreadeagling me on my back.
They fetched food and used me as a dining table. I had no choice but to lie still while they chatted and ate, acting as if I were not present. I listened to their idle talk, the table beneath me becoming more and more uncomfortable. I could watch them eating, my plump Lizzy and the imperious Madame Sevère. Whenever I tried to speak I was silenced by a sharp word from Madame. Lizzy treated me with a glance of disdain, which told me I had lost her for ever.
At last they had finished with me. Madame bundled my clothes into a ball and thrust them into my arms. Still naked I was hustled to the front door and pushed out. Luckily for me it was already dark, and I fumbled my way with difficulty into my clothes. Eventually I was able to stumble home where I ran a hot bath.
Lizzy never did come back to me. She worked with Madame for years, and made a fortune.
