My Stepmother's Firm Hand Pt. 01

"Oh come on mom."

"Okay. I'll just put on my hat and we can take photos," she said when she finally put on her gloves. She walked over to the hat that was lying on the table. She placed it gently on her head, straightened her hair and took the whip at both ends, lowered both hands down, stood with her legs apart and smiled. "So, what does your Mistress look like?"

"You're gorgeous, my Queen." I restarted her smartphone. I pointed it at her, adjusted the focus and pressed the shutter. It turned out excellent. We took a few more photos in different positions. Then we sat back on the couch and started watching them on her smartphone.

"So? I looked cool wearing gloves and the whip, didn't I?" she asked, holding her hands out for me to kiss.

"You did great, mom. If you didn't have gloves, it definitely wouldn't have turned out like this," I said, grabbing her hands and kissing them.

"Thanks. What do you think about my boots? Do you like them?" she asked, straightening her left booted leg at the knee. "See, admit that I look sexy in them."

"Mom, there are no more charming legs in the world than yours in these sexy boots," I said, kissing her hands again.

"Hmmm. You are a sweetheart. You know, I have to tell you that from the time I was a little girl, I was taught by my mother and grandmother to wear high-heeled boots and leather gloves," she said, still holding her hands in mine. "My grandmother wore them, my mother wore them, and now, as you see, I wear them."

"Well, I still have to admit one thing to you..." I stopped here, not knowing if I was doing the right thing by going so far in my preferences and secret dreams. After all, I wanted to make it easier for her and myself, so I thought it was time to take action.

"Yes?" My stepmother didn't let up and continued to pursue the topic.

"You know, I don't know how to tell you this."

"Go ahead. Don't be afraid, your mommy doesn't bite," she encouraged me to confide in, gently squeezing my hands with her gloved palms.

"Well, you know, when I look at you in this photo, I really love you holding that whip in your hands. There's something amazing about the way you hold it like that."

My stepmother laughed gently, "You say you adore me. That's nice of you. Hmmm. To be honest, you surprised me a bit with your confession. And why? What made you like me so much, huh?"

"I enjoy the way you hold that whip. You do it very professionally and you look very attractive keeping it with your palms," I said, kissing her hands for the third time.

"Really?" My stepmother laughed again. "Do you really think so?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was stupid. I looked like an numpty, didn't I?"

"Oh, come on. Listen, I would tell you something secretly, but I don't know if I can, because, you know... these are my private matters, taboo matters, and I don't know if I can share it with my son. Well....unless...you promise me that this will stay just between us and you won't tell anyone about it. It'll be our sweet little secret, okay?" she said, smiling and at the same time threatening me with her gloved hand with her index finger.

"On my word of honor, I won't tell anyone," I said, all excited, raising my hand up as a sign of an oath.

"Okay, so come on now, put your head on my thighs and mommy will tell you a fairy tale, okay?"

We laughed at this 'fairy tale'. Sitting on the couch to my stepmother's right, I rested my head on her thighs. I felt the cold leather of her black skirt on my left cheek. My stepmother placed her right gloved palm on my right cheek and started stroking it gently with her thumb. She grabbed the center of the whip with her left hand and, stroking it with her thumb, moved it closer to my face so that it was literally millimeters from my eyes. I could smell the leather of her skirt and gloves and her perfume.

"Will it bother you if I hold the whip here?" she asked.

"No, no problem," I replied, already quite horny. I assumed that with the whip, she was doing it on purpose to slowly get me used to it. I felt that my plan was starting to work and that I would probably get beaten today.

"Okay, so listen. Everything I'm going to tell you now is what happened in this house. And the fact that, as you rightly put it, the way I hold the whip in my hands is not an accident that happened while taking the photo. This is also thanks to your grandmother and great-grandmother."

"My grandmother and great-grandmother? I mean, your mother and your grandmother, right?"

"Exactly, as you say. Just like in the case of boots and gloves, which I told you earlier, when I was a teenager, almost an adult, my mother and grandmother taught me how to use a whip. There was always a tradition in our family that women had to ride a horse, so every woman had to be well acquainted with the riding crop. Or, more precisely, she had to be able to professionally hold the riding crop in her hands and whip the mounted horse with it."

"Well, how did you learn that?"

"First, just for fun, my mother and grandmother and I dressed up in horse riding clothes, breeches, riding boots and, of course, the obligatory black leather gloves. Then each of us took a whip in our hands and walked proudly around the house as if we were some sort of supervisors in prison. We had a lot of fun with it."

"So how did you learn to punch?"

"At first we tried it without anything, we just whipped the air, listening only to the piercing whistle. Once, when we were practicing whip blows in the air just for fun, our stable boy who we employed just came across."

"He was ten years older than me. He was the only man living with us. He would have had a lot of strength to be able to carry each woman individually on his back. I will never forget this sight. When the stable boy appeared on the horizon, Grandma looked him up and down, walked up to him, touched his bicep with her gloved palm, and told him that he was old enough and strong enough to be used as an exercise pony.

"The stable boy, to our surprise, agreed, stating that he would do anything to educate and entertain 'this cute young lady', namely me. Then, with a smile on her face, Grandma pointed her index finger in her black gloved hand to the floor and ordered him to fall on his knees and elbows and pretend to be a horse, because her granddaughter will be learning to ride. Won't I bore you with my story?" she asked me, hitting me lightly on the cheek with her gloved hand.

"No, please continue, mother. It's very interesting what you're saying. I can see it's going to be interesting," I asked. Both my excitement and penis grew with every word that came out of her mouth.

"Hmmm, I see you enjoy it, huh?" said my stepmother, pinching my cheek gently. "I'm just warning you that now there will be scenes and content that may surprise you, my dear.

"What did I end up with?... ah... well, I was supposed to learn to ride a horse, sitting astride our stable boy and riding him. Learning to ride a horse on his back, that was the official version we presented to him. In fact, all three of us knew that I had already been able to ride horses for a long time and very well, and my grandmother and mother wanted me to get used to beating someone with a whip and see how nice it felt for dominant women, who they were then and wanted then introduce me to the world of female domination.

"The stable boy did as Grandma ordered. Then she mounted him like a horse for the first time and started lightly hitting his butt with the whip. All three of us had a lot of fun then. Similar riding exercises were later carried out often and regularly. My mother ordered the stable boy to show up for these exercises without clothes, as befits a horse. She allowed him to wear only his tight white briefs, which she herself rolled up for him to expose his bare ass for beatings with the whip.

"She then said that he had to expose the pony's rump, because in reality horses don't have it covered. Of course, before rolling up his underpants, there was always a ceremony of putting on gloves to watch his growing hard-on, humiliate him even more and show him who was the boss.

"After this ceremony, first grandmother rode him, then my mother, and finally me. All three of us took turns taking a short ride around the room where we are sitting now, lightly prodding him with whips. As one of us sat astride him and was enjoying the ride, the others were walking around him, pushing him even more with our whips and shouting cheerfully 'Giddy-up horsey, giddy-up!'

"Well, what did the stable boy say?" I asked out of curiosity. "He didn't protest? After all, he was a man and allowed himself to be treated like that, to be humiliated like that?"

"The stable boy always believed that these beatings on his ass with the whip were just a game that would end eventually, that it was just a horsey ride, and in fact, we had a lot of fun beating him with the whip and left him stuck in this belief, without telling him the truth about us. Of course he didn't have to agree to it, but he did because it was his character. He was always weak towards women, he was henpecked and there was nothing he could do about it."

"And how long did this fun last?"

"We stayed like that for maybe a month and then we stopped these practices. But I have to tell you something else about an event that influenced my personality. I'm just warning you, these scenes and facts may be too drastic for you. Are you ready for something extra spicy?" my stepmother asked, stroking my cheek.

"Of course, I'm excited for it. Don't worry about it. It certainly won't negatively affect my psyche."

"Hmm, I see that you enjoy this kind of atmosphere, so keep listening.

Imagine that once I heard the stable boy being beaten by my grandmother and mother, but for real and not as a joke. Once I came home earlier than planned, so no one was expecting me. There was no one in the house, it was quiet. I went downstairs to the basement for something and heard some sounds from the laundry room, which, as you know, is adjacent to the basement. I moved closer silently. The laundry room door was open.

"I heard the whistle of two whips, one after the other, ending with a blow against a human body. Each blow was accompanied by a moan. It came from the stable boy's mouth. Then I realized that Mom and Grandma were probably beating the stable boy regularly, secretly from me. When they took a break from whipping him, then they laughed mockingly at him and spoke to him in a very commanding tone, ordering him to kiss their boots.

"I wanted to get closer to the door to take a closer look at what was happening there, but I was afraid that I would scare them and it could have negative consequences for our further family relations. So I stayed where I was standing. Then I wanted to run in there and disperse this company. I was outraged that they beat him so brutally. After all, the stable boy was a good guy whom I respected very much. That was the only time I witnessed him being beaten by my grandmother and mother."

"So what? You ran into the laundry room and interrupted their fun?"

"No. I gave up on it. I quickly ran out of the house quietly so that no one would hear me. I had to cool down. I went for a walk until I was scheduled to return home. When I came back, the house was quiet, as if nothing had happened. Everyone was smiling and talking happily among themselves. Grandma and mother were wearing leather boots and gloves all the time. Probably the same ones they had when they were whipping the stable boy."

"You didn't tell them about what you saw, did you?"

"No. I left it to myself. We ate dinner together. I tried to be as cheerful and talkative as them, to create an appearance and not let them know that something was bothering me, that I had seen something. After dinner, I went to my room. I asked the other household members so that no one disturbs me under the pretext that I am tired.

"I locked the door behind me and didn't go out until the morning. I couldn't sleep, thinking about what had happened and what I had heard. Then the dormant nature of a dominant woman woke up in me. Then I wanted to take a whip, just like my grandmother and mother, into my hand and flog our stable boy.

"I tossed and turned in bed for a long time at night, unable to sleep. I started... masturbating... oh, no. I shouldn't tell you about it, darling, it's too intimate, I'm sorry you heard such words from my mouth," my stepmother interrupted the story while pausing to stroke my cheek.

"Mom, nothing happened. I understand that you had a moment of weakness. Everyone has such moments,... me too." I tried to console her somehow so that she would continue with the story.

"You too?" she asked surprised, "Besides... well... you're still a young man, so it shouldn't surprise me at all."

"And how old were you then?"

"You know... gosh, as much as you do now!"

"You see!"

"Okay, but I probably shouldn't have told you about such intimate things that happened under the influence of those emotions. And since I'm your stepmother, for your safety I shouldn't tell you about how my dominant nature came to life back then, right? What will you think of me now?"

"I won't think of anything, mother. But nothing will happen if you relieve yourself and confess what's on your mind. And as your stepson, I won't tell anyone about it anyway, because I want it all to stay in the family. You know that I love you very much and no confession of yours, even the most intimate, will change my attitude towards you."

"Oh, you're a sweetheart. Thank you for being so mature and understanding. Do you really want to continue?" she asked, starting to stroke my cheek again, which was a good sign that her story would continue.

"I want nothing more right now," I said, taking her gloved palm that was stroking me for a moment to kiss her.

"Okay, honey, but on one condition," my stepmother wagged her finger in my face, "Only if you tell me something about yourself, too."

"About me?" I pretended to be surprised, but I knew exactly what she meant.

"Well, don't play innocent, honey," she tugged my ear lightly. "But you just said that you have a fondness for something. Well, as your loving mother, I need to know everything about you. So, what will it be like? Will you agree to this arrangement with me?"

"You left me no other choice, Mom."

"Okay, something for something. Good. Let's continue. Remind me where I ended, because I forgot."

I was stunned. I didn't know what to say at that moment. And it wasn't because I didn't know the last sentence of the story she said, because I knew it very well, but because I didn't know whether I should quote exactly what she said or not. How will she react to this? Too bad, well, here goes nothing..

"Listen... so... I don't know if I remember correctly, but I think you said you started masturbating."

A moment of consternation and then we both burst out laughing.

"You know what? You are a very naughty boy... how can you talk to your fifty-year-old mother like that," Elizabeth scolded, smiling at me and pulling my cheek playfully. "Okay. So, as you mentioned, I started masturbating. I was completely naked. It felt wonderful. But even then, being alone in my room, I wanted something more promiscuous, so I stopped the games for a while.

"I got up from the bed and went to the wardrobe, opened the drawer where I kept my gloves, took out burgundy, elbow-length gloves. Then I opened the wardrobe where I kept my boots. I also had burgundy ones. They matched the color of the gloves, overknee, high spiked heel. I took them with me and went back to bed, lay down comfortably on my back, bent my legs at the knees and started to put on the gloves. My hands were pointing high up. Then I put on the boots with my legs straight at the knees. I was ready for sinful, promiscuous pleasure. And then you know what happened, right? I'll spare you the details."

"And what did you feel then?"

"What did I feel? Lust. The desire to dominate a man. To enslave him. Of course, I meant the stable boy, because for now he was the only one within the reach of my whip. I wanted him to worship me dressed like this, just like he worshiped my mother and grandmother."

"And how did everything go? Did you succeed with the stable boy?"

"I started taking action the very next day. I innistarted provoking him by flirtatiously putting on boots and gloves. I started wearing them around the house more often, so that he could see me in them and suffer. Yes, I saw that the stable boy was suffering because he couldn't touch these relics yet, which he worships so much. But that's what I wanted. I wanted him to wait a little longer. I was waiting for the right moment to strike.

"Me wearing boots and gloves around the house, with the stable boy closely watching me, became a daily occurrence, as was the case with my mother and grandmother, who were obviously very happy that I had changed. Imagine that once I wasn't wearing boots and gloves, they even got a little worried and asked if something was wrong and why I wasn't wearing them.

"I assumed then that they were using the fact that I was dressed like that in their secret meetings with him in the laundry room, when they were planning a flogging. I imagined that while they were mocking him, they were reminding him that this was the third woman walking around proudly a day in boots and gloves around the house and that soon she would definitely start beating him with a whip. These dirty thoughts of mine turned me on so much that I was looking forward to putting them into practice.

"But the moment finally came. By accident, I overheard my mother telling the stable boy in an imperative tone to polish her boots because they were dusty. I waited in hiding for the right moment to see what would happen next. Mom left the house somewhere and we stayed with the stable boy alone. He took my mother's boots and went downstairs. I followed him unnoticed.

"He entered the laundry room. I stayed outside for a moment, listening to what he was doing. After a moment of silence, I heard a gentle rustle. Yes, I thought, it was undoubtedly the sound of a cloth rubbing against the leather boot shaft. I waited a while and finally went inside.

"Surprised by my sudden visit, he got scared, literally standing at attention in front of me from the couch he was sitting on and dropping my mother's boots on the floor. I asked him what he was doing and he said he had to polish my mother's boots because she told him to. Excited by the whole situation, I asked him politely, with a bit of arrogance and feigned shyness, if he wouldn't mind cleaning mine in my presence, as they were also a little dusty.

"Yes, I said they were dusty, but I lied, because in fact they were shiny. It didn't matter then whether they were dirty or clean. What mattered back then was that I would witness my boots being worshiped. Of course, it couldn't have been otherwise and I didn't have to wait long for his enthusiastic, positive and satisfying answer.

"I immediately went upstairs to get my boots. I looked at them again. Sure enough, they were shining brightly. By the way, of course, I also took my gloves. I thought that maybe they would be useful downstairs. They happened to be the same burgundy ones, with which I had fun on that memorable night when I underwent a personality transformation.

"I went back to the laundry room. The stable boy had already finished with my mother's boots and was waiting submissively for mine. I thought it was time to change my tone towards him from polite, shy to more confident and commanding. So I ordered him to put on my boots on my legs and polish them while I'm wearing them. Of course, as you can guess, he eagerly did everything I told him.

"Then, while polishing my boots, I slowly started putting on my gloves and asking him embarrassing, intimate questions. After some resistance on his part and my determined pressure, I always received an answer that satisfied me. It was then that he confessed to me, kneeling on his knees in front of me, that from the time he pretended to be a pony, he started having dreams of being beaten and humiliated by women. So you see, my dear, that's what happened with our stable boy."