A Submissive Schooled and More

"Will you be bringing any whips, Master?" Jim asked, his voice trembling with excitement.

"Of course," replied his master, "and there will be no mandatory 2-week interval between whippings. If you displease me, you will be whipped. If it pleases me, you will be whipped. Your ass will be mine!"

"I know you whipped me earlier," pleaded Jim, "but would you please whip me again? Just to seal the deal?

Came the end of term, and it was like the first day in reverse. There was an awards/graduation ceremony -- boorring! Then it was families, hugs, greetings, goodbyes, stuffing of belongings into the trunks of cars. The Masters were all there, with effusive good-byes, handshakes and such. Mr. Mallon came up to Jim, who introduced him to his parents and sisters; he seemed specially interested in meeting Jim's mother.

Then he turned to Jim and told him in an undertone that he wanted to watch Jim being soundly whipped. By his mother. Then shaking Jim's hand he declared in a loud voice, "you'll bear the marks of my whip all your life, you know -- I kind of admire how you have kept silent about the source of your cigarettes..."

Jim replied, "I guess I can tell you now, nobody gave me the cigarettes -- I bought them, sir."

Mr. Mallon's grip on Jim's hand tightened, and he turned to Jim's mother angrily. "Jim's just confessed that he has been lying to me all term! I must ask you to release him to me for a final whipping!"

His mother replied, "only if I can participate..." She then turned to the rest of the family and declared "there's something back in the school that needs to be cleared up with Mr. Mallon -- Jim and I will be back in fifteen minutes or so. Go back into the reception and have another cup of tea or a snack."

That having been said, Jim was escorted back into the school, to the room he remembered of much pain, and he was ordered to strip. He obeyed, of course. 'Strip' as Mr. Mallon often had reminded him, rhymes with 'whip'.

Mr. Mallon explained to his mother, "the subjects of my whippings take their position in this whipping place -- feet bound by these shoe things." He placed Jim's feet in the restraints and secured them.

"Next, I secure their hands on this bar, which forces the subjects to bend over at the best angle to suffer, and I adjust this padded bar, which tightens the muscles on their asses to make it as painful as possible. Then this restraining belt is tightened around their lower backs to prevent any movement whatever." Mr. Mallon secured Jim's hands and adjusted the support pad (Jim had always thought of it as the barrel) so that he was bent over as Mr. Mallon wished, stretched out.

Secured. Immobile. Totally at Mr. Mallon's mercy. Over a barrel. As usual.

"But Mr. Mallon, sir," cried Jim, "first of all, I did not lie to you sir, I just did not disclose the truth, which is what you have been whipping me for all term. Now I've disclosed it, why should that earn a whipping? As well, this is Saturday, and you whipped me on Tuesday, so this is within the two-week no-whip period, sir."

"You're right, young man, on both counts" replied Mr. Mallon, "so instead of me giving you the ten lashes you so richly deserve, I am going to put the whip into your mother's hand," and he gave his horsewhip to Jim's mother, saying "I've given you a new whip that has been soaked with cayenne and lemon juice. Try it, and see how it raises the welts on Jim's backside. If you think your son should be whipped, be my guest. You're not bound by the school rule limiting punishments to ten strokes, so you can inflict as many lashes on your son as you wish. As I've said to myself all year, that's a very inviting ass bent over there! Jim needs some new welts."

"I hope I don't disappoint you with my whipping skills," said his mother, flexing her arm, and sending the whip swooshing several times over Jim's naked, inert ass. He waited, immobile, restrained.

"WHAM!!" the first lash burned across the upper part of Jim's backside, where his cheeks smoothed over into his back. Jim screamed with the pain -- no need to restrain himself now, but make a good show for his mother and his master. "WHACK!! WHACK!!" The following strokes came in quick succession, each as painful as the first. Jim bucked and struggled but could not move at all to escape his mother's attack on his ass, the sides of his cheeks, his upper thighs. Jim lost count of the number of lashes -- many more than ten. Then it was over, and Jim's screams subsided into sobs.

Mr. Mallon exclaimed "you've obviously got a good strong arm! And no hesitation about causing Jim the pain that he suffers and enjoys. Keep the whip as a memento -- you've earned it! Eighteen lashes, and you have marked his backside so he won't soon forget this session."

"Thank you so much," his mother replied, "it's a wonderful whip, beautifully balanced, a nice grip, and heavy enough to deliver a strong whipping! Jim will be pleased to know that I will use it often in future...not every time, because suspense is always an important part of dominance and discipline."

"You've no doubt learned that Jim is to be employed as my assistant at my camp for the summer. He starts in three weeks, so you'll doubtless have a chance or two to mark him up before he comes to me."

Mr. Mallon released Jim from his restraints and gave him some tissues to mop away his tears and blow his nose. His mother continued the conversation as Jim struggled to put his underpants and trousers over his inflamed ass, and to get into the rest of his clothes.

"You've heard we're moving into a new home, architect designed, with all the features that anyone could wish for?" Jim's mother was grinning from ear to ear. "I requested a private work-out room for Jim behind the garage -- nice and large, with space for lots of equipment. And it has been built totally soundproofed, lined with cork, just like this room! She brandished the horsewhip, flailing the air with it. "I'm holding the first piece of work-out equipment that will live in that room, along with lots of other stuff."

Mr. Mallon and his mother continued their discussion, as he demonstrated the features of his whipping restraints, and how they could be easily constructed and placed to give maximum space for the backswing of a whip or paddle. Jim could only imagine, with foreboding, the the 'delights' in store for him in his new 'work-out room'...

Then it was back to home, a new home, and a new life for Jim! Schooled. Submissive. A slave, for the summer.

To be followed soon by Slavery for the Summer Watch for it!