Just Beat My Ass, Ok? Rebecca

So where did this idea of becoming trainer start? How did the idea come about?   Well, to explain that I guess, would be to start the beginning.  I mean, you don’t just wake up one morning and decide that you want to begin offering a domestic slave training and coaching service.  It has to begin somewhere and grow.

You need to have some experience. You would need to have some trials and errors to learn and to grow into that position. Posting a shingle outside your home claiming that you can help them discover their true calling, bring out their best skills as a domestic servant needs to include a little grounding in reality for prospective submissives to want to work with you.

So you may be asking when did I start training slaves? What experience do I have helping submissives lives be more fulfilled?  Simply put, Where did my desires of making women’s submissive fantasies a reality start?

Slavery in The South

It was the mid 90’s, I was living in Atlanta. A few years previous I started to have thoughts, I mean serious erotic thoughts about how much fun it would be to have a female as my own slave. To play with and train.

Coming from the Midwest, where men are supposed to be gentlemanly and women were to be proper.  The idea of bending your girlfriend over and smacking her ass for fun, really never registered with too many people.

As well, the idea that a woman would happily sexually submit to a man or face punishment, didn’t really fit into the feminist training we all were given in our high school teachings.

My past girlfriends thought what I was asking of them was a little off the wacko charts, but went along with it to a point, in order to get some really hot sex more often.

I had yet to meet anyone else who had these desires or had acted out on them in real life. Just stories in books and magazines and even found a few movies with the master/slave theme.

The Internet had not yet developed. We had what was called bulletin board systems (BBS). An early version of chatrooms.  But this was mostly the really weird stuff and fantasy play.

Then I was offered a job in the south. If there was ever going to be a place that had people being Master’s and others playing the role of obedient slaves, it had to be here. And I was so right!

Although most of what I was seeing was in the very open gay communities, I also met a few heterosexuals into it as well.  But I was not alone in my thoughts. That’s what matter most. This was real and normal, well-adjusted people were living it every day.  In fact, there were a few groups that communicated openly in the free culture community newspapers and on BBS’s.

That’s where I met Rebecca.  On a BBS for Atlanta kink people, then at a group event.  She was real, she was wanting to meet others and she liked to be spanked.  Spanked HARD!.

When she walked into that first group event, many of the other men stopped and started as well.  For me, seeing her in person, made me want to hug her as I have never wanted to hug a woman before!  I am a breast man and she had a set of breasts that made me want to bury myself between those and let the world wash away.

She just had that perfect body for hugging and probably many other kinky things.  She was about 5’10, long brunette colored hair with a slight curl to them as they cascaded down her front and over her breasts.  A Very Rubenesque woman dressed very conservatively considering this was an inviter, private Kink gathering.  She looked more like she was heading to the office than to a night of BDSM demonstrations, conversations and who knows what else.

She walked with confidence and determination. If I had not known she was describing herself as a submissive, she had the air of a Dom on a hunt. What I first judged to be 48 DD’s were being well protected by what looked to be a satin bra hiding behind a skin-tight sweater.

What was the final touch to her looks that gave me a rock hard erection was her smile that either lit up the room or sent the few fake Dom’s scurrying for cover while protecting their private parts. Again, she did not seem to be of the submissive sway.

Being new to the area and new to being around so many people who were open about their lifestyle choices, I was in full voyeur mode. Taking it all in.

At the weekend get-togethers. Men came with their wives or girlfriends. Once behind the locked door, the women turned into naked slaves to their man holding the other end of the leash.

Some men brought their men on a leash or cock harness as well.  One or two lesbian M/s couples and of course, us lepers, the dreaded single males, on the supposed hunt.

I loved to watch the Master’s sit at the tables on the apartment patio while their naked slaves ran around getting them (and us lepers) drinks, snacks, and an occasional whip.  The brave ones would order their playthings to kneel and suck a cock or stand in a corner while we walked past to feel their ass or poke a finger in the wet pussy just because we could.

Meeting Her

Rebecca was traveling alone. She told me on chat that she is always the single sub.  She was always confident in her stride and always short in her conversations.  Having finally met this woman in the flesh, I was enthralled by her beauty, made it difficult for this relative newbie to be seriously “Dom” around her. But I tried my best to fake it and she seemed to notice.

I really wanted to know her. To own her! Thankfully, she saw me not as a threat and liked to be at my side or near me as we wandered around the place and watched some of the scenes and join a few conversations.

She always seemed to be having a little bit of a crush on anything submissive.  Making me wonder what she was really after.  She was short on words and conversations, she just really wanted to watch, learn and I guessed dream about what she saw.

Afterward, she wanted to know more about me and we had many private chats online.   We talked a few more times on the phone before I insisted on a meeting. A real, one on one meeting.  Like a real Dom ordering a prospective submissive to meet in person for inspection. or at least an informal drill down to find whats really inside.

We agreed to meet for a drink at a tavern close to where I lived. To see what happens.  She knew I had “Dom” tendencies and some active thoughts about submissive women, slavery and a desire to beat their ass’s with a wooden paddle or leather flogger.  She really didn’t know my lack of real experience beyond me doing these things to reluctant women I dated.

I arrived early and had a seat at the bar, while waiting for a secluded table to open up.  She walked in and I heard several of the men around me catch their breathe.  I smiled. Knowing she was there for me!

She just came from her office, all business attire and smelling of perfume and work.  Her business suit was open to reveal a silk blouse that was light enough to be professional yet dark enough to hid her heavy bra that I knew were holding up and in the dreams of my past few nights.

She found me, smiled and gave me a little hug.  I ordered two beers. She let out a sigh.  I didn’t really understand how ordering her a beer would get that kind of a reaction, but I smiled as if this was normal.

I took our beers and as a gentleman would, I  walked her to a corner booth. I wanted privacy! After the initial “hellos” and other first time alone formalities, she let out a heavy and very verbal sigh again.

She finally told me why. Her sigh was letting go of a lot of frustration. Not as much as she wanted, but it was enough for her to relax. She liked the fact that she didn’t have to think.  The man just did what He wanted to do and she followed.

I ordered two beers, then pointed to where I wanted her to go, to sit.  I thought “if she only knew”. She enjoyed that act of Dom and her ability to be submissive and not have a choice.  She was starting to put the pieces together..

Over the next two hours, we drank a few more beers and she just let her heart out. Meanwhile, I was enjoying staring at her beautiful full breasts that were poking out from a tight tan business blouse that left a lot of teasing until she came back from the bathroom with a few of the top buttons missing.

She admitted who she was.  A top-level corporate attorney.  Her firm worked with some of the top industries in Atlanta. SHe was always being named in the business pages and she was often seen on profiles of recent court cases or business decisions.

Rebecca told me a few of the cases she has been working on and sure enough, I do remember seeing them in the news and hearing about the cases on the radio.  I knew her name as I was still trying to figure out the Atlanta business community, so I read the business papers religiously.

That’s also why she was so sheepish at the parties and not giving too many details about herself or her submissive desires when meeting men online or at the parties. She had to keep a distance from certain things that could jeopardize her career if they ever leaked out from a bad relationship or a vengeful Dom.

As with the Doms wanting to beat her boobs or have her at the end of their leash, it’s not really what she wanted.  But yet it was sort of.  She was wanting soemthing more specific.

She wasn’t looking for a Dom.  She was wanting to find a Man she could trust with her identity. She wanted to feel safe with Him before she would allow Him to take her away from the real world for a few minutes or hours and just let her mind go elsewhere.

She was very direct on how He would accomplish that mission.  At the end of a bad week, a busy day in the courtroom or sitting on the panel of some business function.  She wanted the release that came with getting naked, being told to bend over a couch or a rail and having a man beat her ass with a wooden paddle. To punish her for something she may or may not have really done.

She wanted what is now called roleplaying, but for a very specific set of parameters.  Come, get naked, get lectured, get beat. Then leave.

After a hard beating, she wanted to stay in her position for a few minutes after the beating to cry, to get some emotions out of her.  Maybe have her  “punisher” lecture her on a few things. But nothing more.

After all that, He tells her to get out of His house. To go away. Order her to get dressed and be done with it all. Nothing more.  No sex, no cuddling or aftercare. Nothing more.

So she wanted to know if her instincts were right. That I could be discrete, be the firm schoolmaster or prison punisher when she needed it and nothing more? Not to expect sex? Not expect to be her Dom? Not to be romantic.

Me being a boob man, I smiled at the idea of seeing those large mammaries hanging and swinging from the force of my beating her upturned ass.  “HELL YES!” I told her with what I am sure was one huge smile and I know I had a hard-on with the thoughts of all this going on in my head.

She made one more trip to the ladies room and that gave me time to fix my erection. Then she wanted to find out what I had to give her.  To go to my place and she needed some time bent over and her ass beat – tonight!

The First Beating

Rebecca was actually leading the scene, I know that’s not how it should be, but I was all new to this world, so I let her guide me and she knew it. I was her happy little puppy dog.

When we entered my apartment, she stopped at the entrance while I went on in to get my toy bag for her inspection. Not even realizing she had stopped at the entryway.

When I returned, she was still standing there. Right inside the doorway.  I wasn’t sure if she was backing out, unsure of me, my apartment? What?  She smiled and told me that she was waiting for me.  Her last spanking Dom always had her stand at the doorway until he was ready. Then order her to strip.  He would never allow her to follow him past the point of entry, at least not dressed.

I knew that! (not really) I always have my slaves strip for me, (cough, cough).  No clothing for them. I always say!  Sounding like I had done this a million times before!

As I went about getting the couch away from the wall and setting the mood with some candles, I slowly kept an eye on her beginning to strip out of her business clothes and into my dream slave.

Her big boobs came free from their silk and metal wire cage and I almost popped my load right there. They were magnificent.  Full sized, truly they deserved the title of hangers.  Aeroles the size of a silver dollar and her nipples I could cut glass with!

My Dom’ness came out as I told her to stop as she folded up her last piece of clothing. Standing there totally naked,  I wanted to inspect every inch of her body, all her nakedness.

As I slowly walked around her with my eyes covering each inch of her soft skin and my fingertips making small circles on her skin.  Asking about her bra like I was shopping for one just like it. She told me 42D. she laughed saying they should be DD, but for work, she needs to ekkp them down and now be the center of attention when in a meeting!

I swallowed hard.  Now I really wanted to beat THEM! I wanted to get a mile of rope and ties them up and hang her from the rafters!  But I knew our arrangement. I let my fingertips glide over her breast as I cirlced around her. Examining the rest of the maginficne female body displayed for my entertainment.  Finally, I had to move on, so I ordred her to kneel and wait for my next orders.

As I displayed what I had for implements of pain, she reminded me “Beat my ass” she wanted nothing to do with leather floggers, chains or anything other than wooden paddles. I had a couple of them in various sizes.

One particular paddle had a good long handle on it, but the working part was short in size about 10inches long, 1/2 thinck and made of solid oak.  No woman I used it on could do more than maybe 10 before telling me to stop or they were leaving.   For her, this was perfect. It’s what she wanted and for me not to be gentle with it.

One final note before she assumed the position over the back of my couch.  She asked that I be verbal, scolding her for not being prompt with her monthly expense reports. Something she says she is always late with.  So I was to be punishing her for that.

Whatever she wanted. Rebecca just wamted me to be hard and firm from the first stroke to the last. I could touch her wherever I wanted, however, I wanted except no insertions in any holes. NONE! No fingers, no toys. I can feel her breasts, pinching her nipples and even maybe pat the pussy.  But that was it.  Also, to be rough when I did it.

Being our first time together, we agreed on 50. I was a bit shocked at the high number for our first time, but soon learned, she has an ass that can really take a beating.  She also cries and whines a lot.  Almost like a child who isn’t getting her way.  But I was told to please don’t stop no matter what she begs.  Remind her that if she keeps whining I would add 10 more to the punishment.

I said that I was a bit out of shape at this, so I may have to take a break every 10 or so. In reality, I never went past 20 with a flogger and never past 15 with this beast of a bruiser!

She was happy with our arrangement and said as long as it was me that decided when to stop and when to start, not her.

She Was Beyond Wet to Start

I set her across the back of the couch, her nice firm ass was facing me and I could see the twinkles of moisture on what little muff of pubic hair she had covering her entryway.

The first swat was hard, firm and direct dead center as I watched her head bob up, her deep breath told me it was felt as she let her head fall with a heavy sigh.

By the first ten, my arm was starting to feel the burn! I put my hand on her silky smooth pussy to find her legs was drenched. Her juices were running down her leg like a river and her moisture was on her pussy lips.  The apartment filled with the wonderful smell of her sex.  I smiled.  I didn’t care if she stained the couch or left a puddle on the floor that leaked to the unit below mine.

I was in my element. This is where I knew I was meant to be. To be behind the naked woman with my paddle as she begged forgiveness and promises of better behavior.  I was in charge and I was the one who was calling the shots. Telling my disobedient employee she needed to be more aware of her time and my time.  My needs for those reports were a priority and that meant a severe paddling. She would apologize and promise to be better.  Each apology she gave, made me want to hit that sweet red ass a little harder than last time.

Knowing that I was in charge of this made my erection grow harder than I ever remember it being. Hell, I probably could have pounded in a nail with my cock it was so hard.

When I would pause, I tried not to let her know I was needing to catch my breat. Not only from the sight of her wonderful ass responding to my beating, but from the excerion this was casuing me. Plus the times I had to stop and reach into my jeans to fix my erection.

As I waitied to catch my breth, I woulkd wacth as her ass moved around tro get comfortable and to show me the growing wet stain on the fabric.

I reached over the couch to cup her breasts to find her nipples were now the size of a pencil top and I pinched them hard to hear her moan.

Looking at her very red, very well shaped ass, made me want to throw it all away and just fuck that tight little hole staring back at me.  Dam, I wanted to fuck her so bad.  I wanted to hear her scream as I impaled my cock into the black hole while she begged forgiveness and as I took advantage of her position, she would thank me for using her as my reward for whatever pain I suffered in administering the punishment.  But I relented.

Every chance I had, I took advantage of her being bent over, that ass staring at me, seeing the moisture run down her legs and those big boobs hanging over the other side, just waiting to be felt, pinched and pulled.  I even slapped them a few times to hear her moan a little louder.

At thirty, I had to stop and get a bottle of water. I offered her a little sip from my hand and she licked the moisture from my palm. Thanking me for my kindness.

At forty, she had a complete emotional breakdown and fell to the floor.  I didn’t know what to do so I grabbed a blanket, wrapped her in it and sat with her until she stopped shaking. I had never been this far beating a woman before.  But I was enjoying the ride!

Forty heavy beating on her nice ass and my arm was starting to really feel the pain. Almost as much as I am sure her ass was.  But that’s not why we stopped. It’s not why she collapsed.  She hit the point where everything just opened up. Her emotions hit the peak and she let herself go.

After a few minutes, she apologized and asked for my forgiveness, but she needed to stop.  I made it sound like it wasn’t what I was going to allow, but since it was our first time, I would let her decided when to end it.  She gave me a kiss on the cheek then thanked me.

To her, this was cathartic. A cleansing. It had been so long since her last beating and she has been dreaming of this for several months.  She just could not find the right person to let it happen.  This is what she really needed and was very thankful.

After regaining her composure, I “allowed” her to get dressed.  Oh, to watch those beautiful breasts go away and get put back in that silky jail cell, I wanted to cry.

As she regained her senses and ability to stand normal, we discussed the future.  Going forward. She stopped, reached into her purse and handed me a $50 bill. Telling me she wanted to make sure that all this was, was a business transaction.  Taking the money, I delivered a service. Nothing more. No sex, no emotions, nothing but a business deal.

We agreed. After a long day, a bad trial, bad whatever, she needed what we just had.  An expense account report being turned in late…. She would send me a text to see about my availability.

Remember, this was the 90’s! There were no cheap cell phones, no text messaging. We had pagers and they were like text calling, but could only leave a number.  Everyone had a code they would use. A set of numbers meant this and another set of numbers meant that.  For us, it was just her number and time. I was to respond back if I approved or not. if not, send back a different time.

I would be working in my office or whatever and hear on the business news channel about some case or some trial and how it went and I would know my pager was about to buzz. I would smile and my cock would start to grow stiff with the knowledge that I was about to see those big breasts hanging over the side of my couch and that beautiful ass turn fro9m white to a dark red from my wooden paddle!

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Meeting My Domestic Servant Coach in Las Vegas

I’m 35 years old, I think I was happily married to a wonderful man I have known almost my entire life (now I know I am). We both have wonderful executive level jobs and raised two great teenage kids who are starting to look at college.  We also have a great sex life and do a bit of swinging when the right couple crosses our paths.

Other than enjoying sharing our love of each other with a selected couple of compatible interests, I have never seen myself as being “kinky” .  Never would I have imagined me being anything close to being called “submissive”.

That entire “Me Master, that you Slave” thing was for men who had exploited egos trying to get laid with women who had a weak mentality  and needed a man to make their lives complete.  That would not describe me or my relationship with Jerry, my husband of almost 15 years.

So why is it that I am skipping my weekly Zumba class to drive across town to meet with a “Domestic Servant Coach”?  Also known as, so I am told, in the kink world as “slave training”.

Add to all this, is that I have been looking forward to each an every session.  This is something I have been doing twice a month for the last three months.

Although it is complete nonsexual coaching and conditioning, it has added a new, more lust filled dimension to my sex life with Jerry.  It has helped our relationship considerable and I never even realized it was needing help.  Not to even mention what it has done to our overall life together with our friends and family.

Go Back To The Begining! 

First off, I work as a glorified secretary in the financial industry.  Where our prim and proper looks, manners and outward appearance to the general public needs to be stellar and sparkling.

My daily appearance is prim and perfect hairstyle.  Hair to can be long, but not “too long” and not cover the face.  A proper blouse that shows off the build but does not flaunt them!  A well-fitting (expensive) bra to hold up the girls that are naturally full 38 D’s.  Matching panties underneath a designer labeled skirt that are never above the knee yet doesn’t always have to be below the knee.

Finish off the professional tease look with fine stockings or nylons that cover end in some low rise heels.  Never flats and always shined. No scuff marks.  Like I said financial industry standards of the prim and proper secretary. Just the right amount of tease while still making you look like that schoolmarm who never had sex…