Alias - Mr. Jones

"You'll come this way sir."

My escort disguised as a doorman made it clear that I would follow.

"You'll wait here, sir. Refreshments of your choice are on the table."

I had a distinct feeling I was locked in or there was a guard at the door. I strode to the refreshments to find an array of hard and soft drinks, snacks, and, "Fuck me! That's weed," I said out loud.

Maybe two or three minutes passed and a different person opened the door. "Good, you are enjoying the refreshments. The marijuana is an especially pleasant experience. Enjoy yourself. Madam is detained and will be here in about 25 minutes."

Madam? No, it is not what you think. I'm not applying for a position at a mansion. I'm at a mansion to be put in a position. I'm joining a corporal punishment group and Madam is the madam.

I decided to give in to temptation and torch some weed. Woah! Straight to the head. I grabbed a beer and sat on a sofa. I had a couple of more hits and popped the beer open. It went down nice after the weed.

I started contemplating what was going to happen after Madam arrived. Another toke and gulp. Who is Madam? What does she do? I was getting excited by the thought of Madam spanking me. How would she do it? Will she use different tools?

There was a brief knock at the door and Madam walked in. There was a knowing first glance followed by her bringing me another beer and joint. She took wine and a joint.

"Just being a little curious, is your name really Mr. Jones?" It was a well practiced question from experience for sure.

"It's a matter of trying to keep two lives separate, Madam." I answered sheepishly.

An angry glow appeared in her eyes, "Lying to Madam is a punishment you do not want to experience, Mr. Jones!"

"I didn't lie ..." I didn't get the sentence finished.

"Mr. Jones, arguing with Madam is also a bad choice."

"I want to be honest and not argue. It's my first time; I am excited and a bit nervous about people finding out. I am Sean Doubleday."

"You are married aren't you Sean? You don't want to go home to your little wifey with a throbbing red ass and get found out."

"That's a big part of it."

"Smoke your joint," she said and put a match to hers.

What Madam wore was not what I expected. Okay, yes, I expected skin tight leather cinched by leather straps or something. Madam wore a thick robe that hid her figure and a lace veil to hide her facial features. Still, there was some thing nagging at me. There was something familiar about her.

"Sean," her voice called and I awoke from my feeling of knowing her.

"Yes, Madam."

"You are thinking something aren't you?" Her voice was dangerous in tone. I knew I better tell her.

"Pardon me, Madam; however, I cannot get past the thought there is some thing about you that is familiar." I wanted to be polite and honest.

"Very good. You understand the rules. Don't lie to Madam. Be honest with Madam."

Madam rose and beckoned me to follow. She took her wine and joint and I did the same.

"Mr. Doubleday-Jones, your punishment has begun. Dispose of those restricted items."

I wanted to protest that she took her so I thought it okay to take mine. Fire burned behind her veil. I knew immediately to obey.

Through a thick paneled door into what was a dungeon for discipline, she escorted me.

"We will begin simple. Remove all your clothing except shorts and socks."

I wasted no time obeying. I was in a state of emotional dissonance. I was excited, afraid, wanting, frightened, and my cock was raging hard.

"Once you feel the sting, that thing will cease being in that state. Face down on the massage table."

I saw the cuffs and instinct told me to drop my arms. She shackled my ankles, tightened leather belts around my calves and thighs, another belt over my lower back, then my wrists to the table legs.

"Don't lie to Madam, comfy?" I felt her lay a strap across my ass. I couldn't see and didn't know how long or wide, or thick it was. It felt heavy, wide, and cold on my skin.

"No, Madam. I am absolutely not comfortable." I was now feeling remorse for taking this step and she detected it in my voice.

The heavy strap got dragged slowly across both cheeks of my ass.

"Perhaps Madam should scoot those shorts down and give you some comfort. You would like that wouldn't you Sean Doubleday or Jones?"

"I would like what Madam believes is best." My voice wavered more though I rose my hips to allow the shorts to come down.

"You aren't really comfy yet are you?"

"No. I'm not comfy."

The first thrashing strike burned and terror rippled through my every nerve. Retaliate was my instinct and I fought the restraints. Three more thrashes rippled across my ass. I was breathless and moaning.

"When you answer me, it is always 'yes Madam' or 'no madam'. Don't forget." Six more punishing blows tore at my flesh.

I was even more breathless and could only gasp, "Yes, Madam. I will remember Madam."

"Now, Sean, let me teach you how to use a carpet beater."

Madam was taking aim and leaving stinging marks of the weave on each cheek. There was no time between feeling one stinging burn until the next was on its way.

The only movement I could make was to move my hips and expose a piece of tender skin to a blow that made me howl in pain.

"Madam, please," I managed to plead."

That stopped the torture on my ass. "Please, you beg?"

"Yes, Madam. May I have a pause before you continue?"

"How long of a pause?"

"Please, just a short one."

I didn't notice Madam getting something else or hear a rustle of clothing.

I may have gotten one calming breath before her next tool was squarely on target. Madam was relentless.

It was some period of time, I lost track, when I realized Madam had stopped punishing me. The straps binding my calves and thighs were released. The rush of cool air over the moist skin was refreshing. It was even more so when the back strap came off. The ankle and wrist cuffs came off last. I remained motionless.

"Sean Doubleday!"

"Yes, Madam." My voice was returning clear and calm.

"Gather your clothes, dress, and leave by the refreshment room. You may help yourself on the way out."

A quick yes madam and I was dressing as quickly as my punished ass let me. I was warned to wear easy slip on shoes. I was a pig maybe, I helped myself to a lot of weed.

The drive home was tricky at times. Moves to look for oncoming traffic caused me to almost scream. More screams came when I realized my wife would be home from work late and be horny like she always is on her work night.

I hustled around first finding ointment to sooth my spanked ass. "I hope she doesn't want the lights on. How will I explain a purple red ass? Why is she always horny when she comes home?"

The TV was on and I was smoking a joint. A cold beer was a close companion as well.

"Hi, Sean. I'm home." That was her, I'm fucking horny voice.

"Beth...," my enquiring voice.

Beth appeared in not much more than nothing. I could tell she was worked up beyond belief. She had her massage oils, ointments, and an array of stimulating scents. How, where, or when Beth learned to mix these things, I don't know. One of them makes me harder than granite for an hour or more.

"Beth, can I ask you what goes on these nights you're out?" I got to my question and waited for her answer. She was vague about what she does.

"By now you would be naked and waiting for me to work your back. You look tense tonight and I want to soothe your aches and pains." Besides the almost no clothing, her sultry voice could make a dead man stiff.

"You have heard it said, haven't you, Sean, 'It doesn't matter where you get your appetite as long as you come home to eat.'? I am so ready to spoil you and maybe soil you."

My answer was a simple nod of acknowledgement. Beth knew I was not satisfied.

The rest of the night was love making like neither of us ever experienced. The spark to the passion came from Beth.

"Is there something wrong with your ass? I remind you, Mr. Jones, do not lie to Madam."