The Awakening

This is a story about domestic discipline and contains descriptions of strapping and caning in the context of a loving relationship. If this offends you please do not read on. The events described are fully consensual and between adults. Although relationships like this are uncommon they nonetheless form a significant subset. Any errors in editing are mine and mine alone.

My husband and I had been married about two years when I discovered he had been hiding something from me.

I had been working late at the office and John wasn't expecting me home until after midnight. There was a big deal going through and final documents needed to be ready for the morning. For once I had finished early, around eight o'clock, and instead of ringing home to say I was on my way I decided to surprise him. I thought that maybe we could go down the pub or maybe have an early night.

When I arrived home the hall light at the front of the house was on but otherwise our home was in darkness. I let myself in, removed my shoes, and went to find John. It was then that I first heard a woman's voice coming from the den in the basement of the house. Ordinarily I would have assumed it was the television, but John rarely watched it except if there was a football match in which he was interested. I stood at the top of the stairs leading down to the den, a large room running the length of the house. There was a sliver of light visible shining through the door. I strained to listen to what was being said and crept down the stairs and closer to the door of the den. As I reached the door the talking stopped but was followed by a high pitched whistle, a crack, and then a moan. This was repeated multiple times and each time the groans got louder. Somebody was being punished.

The door was already ajar, and I gently pushed the door a little wider so I could see inside the room. John was sitting with his back to me on the leather sofa. He was watching the large wall mounted HD television on the far wall.

It was a recording of a young woman dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt caning a man . He was naked and strapped down on a trestle and she had already caused considerable damage to his bared buttocks which were striped and bleeding. She had a look of studied concentration on her face and appeared to be enjoying her task whilst the man's groans grew louder and his bottom wriggled and writhed.

I was both shocked and surprised by what I saw and slowly crept away from the door. I was shocked by the brutality and cruelty of the young woman and surprised that my husband should choose to watch her. I was angry with him from hiding his kink from me and for me not knowing him well enough to even suspect it. But there was something else... I was turned on by it.

I could have gone back to the front door, slammed it, and shouted, "honey I'm home. " This would have given him time to turn off the TV and stuff his dick back into his trousers. I didn't. I took a deep breath, opened the door, and slowly entered. John was naked and sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him and slightly apart, and he was holding his erect dick in his fist and was slowly wanking himself. He was intently watching the screen and was so close to coming that he did not notice me.

It was surreal. As the cane whistled and the groans of suffering increased Johns hand moved faster and faster. The end of his nob was swollen and a dark purple-blue and I knew from experience he was close. Then he groaned and I watched a long jet of cum arc into the air and splash onto his belly. This was followed by two smaller spurts, and he lay still.

Then he looked across and saw me and his eyes widened in panic. For a few seconds he remained speechless until he spoke, "Helen you're early."

***

I didn't give him time to say any more but turned and left the room. I went upstairs, showered, and changed and went into the kitchen. There I poured myself a glass of cold white wine, sat at the Kitchen table, and waited.

A short while later a very chastened John appeared.

"Don't say anything," I said. "I'm going to talk, and you are going to answer. Now. How long has this been going on?"

"Years. I've been interested as long as I can remember."

"Have you ever been caned?"

"Yes."

"When and by whom?"

"Before I met you...By Angela."

"On the bare bottom?"

"Yes."

"And on more than one occasion?"

"Yes."

"Ok. I really don't want to know any more about your antics with Angela."

"Now get your computer! Bring it here!"

He did exactly as he was told. He disappeared from the room and a short while later returned holding his laptop.

"Now show me your videos!"

He hesitantly attached an external hard drive and tapped in the password. He opened a folder appropriately named Videos and a further group of folders appeared. They were F/M, F/F. M/F, M/M, and Favourites. I opened the F/M folder and several hundred thumbnails appeared. Each was a video of a woman administering corporal punishment to a man.

"Were these all free downloads?"

"Most of them."

"You mean you've wasted good money on some of these?"

"Yes. But it was my card and my money."

"I was exasperated and had seen and learnt enough for the time being but had one last question to ask him."

"Have you ever contacted a professional dominatrix?"

"No, he replied. But I've fantasised about it. I'm so sorry."

At the time I remember my overriding emotion with him was anger. He had hidden an important part of his nature from me but not from a girlfriend. I knew he had fucked Angela just as I had fucked most of my boyfriends. That was assumed and accepted. But sharing an important part of himself with another women and not with me felt like betrayal.

"I'm sorry too. I need time to think.. I'm going out for a walk. Don't wait up."

I took my raincoat and walked down the lane. It was midsummer and still light and as I passed Anne's house she was still working in the front garden. As I passed she called out to me, "Evening Helen."

I was in my own world and didn't answer and she called after me, "Why so glum," and I started to cry.

A few minutes later we sat at her kitchen table with my second glass of the wine of the evening. We were alone. Her husband Graham was away on business. I told her what had happened, and she listened attentively. When I had finished she poured us both another glass of wine and spoke.

"And?"

"I don't know what to do."

"Come on Helen. That's easy. You're angry with him . Do what's best for both of you. Take a cane to his arse. Make sure you hurt him. You'll both feel better. Or would you prefer he went to a professional? They do exist you know."

"I looked blankly at her. But I don't know how?"

"Watch a few of his videos and look on the net. You're fit enough, and you play a good game of squash. How difficult can it be?"

As she said this I thought of the girl I had watched earlier. She had been short and not particularly athletic but the wheals she had made must have been very painful. I am five feet ten inches in my stockinged feet and run, swim, and play racquet sports.

A short while later I walked home. David was already in bed, and I stripped naked and slipped into bed beside him. He was awake and pretending to be asleep.

"I know you are awake David," I said.

"What was the most Angela gave you?"

"A dozen with the strap and a dozen with the cane. I think."

"Well you are going to get a bloody sight more than that on Saturday. Think on that. Now go to sleep."

***

The following morning the deal went through, and I asked my boss for a couple of hours off and he was happy to oblige. I went into Soho and soon found what I was looking for. It was a seedy looking shop with a fluorescent green light flickering in the window.

I was a little embarrassed at first but the girl behind the counter was both helpful and perceptive. She waited until we were alone in the shop before she approached.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes please," I softly and coyly said. "I need a punishment strap and a cane."

"For play or to hurt?, she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

"Oh to hurt. Badly, "I replied.

She went to the back of the shop and produced a dark brown heavy leather strap. It was about eighteen inches long and three inches wide with eight quarter inch holes in two rows of four punched through the end. The strap was attached to a round wooden handle about six inches long.

Next she selected a rattan cane from an umbrella rack but quickly put it back and selected another. It was about three feet long and, she reliably informed me, had a diameter of a third of an inch.

"These should do the job nicely she said. Do you need anything else? A gag perhaps. He or she is going to make lot of noise."

I was starting to warm to this young lady.

"He," I said. "My husband. But we'll be somewhere only I can hear him... and I want to hear him. So thank you no gag. But.. do you have something to help me tie him down over a table?"

She turned and rummaged in the cupboard behind her and placed a set of ringed ankle restraints and a set of ringed wrist restraints on the counter. They were made of leather and looked expensive.

"Not cheap I'm afraid."

"Don't worry. The bastard is paying. This is his card."

She smiled. "You'll need some neatsfoot oil to keep the strap supple, and make sure you use the oil before you use it. We don't stock it, but you should be able to find it online. If you're a beginner read this online."

As she was speaking she wrote something down and then handed me a note with a web address neatly written on it.

Then she packaged my buys in a discrete brown paper parcel and I thanked her, paid for my goods, and returned to work. On my way I went to the car park and deposited the package in the boot of the car.

***

That evening was a Thursday. Normally John went out to play table tennis at the local club and I encouraged him to go. Before he went I reminded him that I wanted the large oak dining table in the

front room taken down to the den and placed in the middle of the room. He was to move the leather sofa and all the furniture against the wall. The den was large and windowless and there would be plenty of room.

"I'm planning to tie you down over that table and that will give me plenty of room to swing the strap and cane I bought today. Before you go to your table tennis ring Graham and ask if he can help you move the table tomorrow evening. You can go down and sit in the pub afterwards. You won't be sitting for a week after I'm done with you. And if he can't help, get one of your other mates to help. And if you can't get help from anyone you can bloody well carry it down on your own. I want that room ready by Saturday evening!"

Whilst he was out of the house for that evening and the following evening I watched some of his videos and visited the website that had been recommended. By the time John returned from the pub on Friday night both the den and I were ready.

I was a changed individual from the one who had tearfully talked to Laura just two days previously. I had had plenty of time to think whilst I was making my preparations. I was no longer hot with anger and my sense of betrayal was now tempered by an acceptance that John had a fetish that a minority of people possessed. Almost normal if you will; and neither Anne nor the helpful sex shop employee seemed particularly phased by it. I believed his problem was that he believed I would have been shocked and then turned off by his masochism. He was wrong. Almost all of us have our kinks and some of us don't even know that we have them. Or if we do, we try to deny them. Does everyone share their strangest fantasies, or do we hide them away?

And I had felt empowered by it all. I knew that I was going to enjoy punishing him.

***

Early Saturday morning the neatsfoot oil was delivered. I placed the strap and cane on the kitchen table and called John to the kitchen.

"Now sit," I said as I handed him the can of oil and a cotton cloth. "I want that strap nice and supple so work the oil in well.

He looked across at the instruments of his punishment and I hoped he was starting to anticipate the beating he would soon receive.

That evening at half past six I ordered him to go to the toilet and take a bath and shortly afterwards took him to the den to sit naked until eight o'clock.

"Sit quietly and think about why you are going to be punished. Don't walk about. Stay sitting, Don't even think about touching yourself. If you get bored watch the clock. When I return you will do exactly as I say, and you will call me ma'am. Do you understand what I have just said? "

"Yes....ma'am"

Whilst he waited I changed into jeans and a white short sleeved tee shirt, put on my trainers, and tied my long brown hair into a bun. Then, to calm my nerves, I sat quietly and drank a large gin and tonic with ice and lemon.

***

I entered the den promptly at eight o'clock. John anxiously looked up at me as I entered and waited for me to speak.

"It's time. I'm going to tie you down. I'm going to really hurt you and I don't think you will be able to take it otherwise. I don't know how many strokes I'm going to give you, but it will be more than you've received before. Don't worry I'm not going to damage you permanently, but this will be a real punishment. Now.. I believe we both need this.. but I've decided to give you the choice of whether we go on or not. Yes or no?"

"He looked deep into my eyes, swallowed, and replied. "Yes ma'am."

He stood facing the end of the table and bent over. His tummy and chest rested on cushions from an armchair, one of which hung over the edge of the table. He wore the leather restraints which were used to bind his ankles to each of the table legs and his outstretched arms were firmly bound to the far table legs. Lastly a broad long strip of cloth torn from an old sheet held his waist firmly against the tabletop. He lay naked and exposed.

I gripped the wooden handle of the strap took aim and raised the strap over my shoulder and brought it down across the centre of his bum. John didn't react but within a few seconds a pink oblong mark started to form. I waited about thirty seconds before once again I let fly. This time I hit him a little harder but again he made no sound and a second pink rectangle started to form. It was the third stroke that evoked the first response when his bottom moved for several seconds as the now familiar mark appeared.

It was when I placed the fourth stroke over the centre of his arse and overlapping the first that his suffering appeared to begin, and he gasped loudly, and his buttocks jumped. After that, every stroke was followed by desperate jerking movements as he vainly tried to escape the heavy leather strap.

I kept up a regular rhythm striking about every twenty seconds and working my way systematically up and down his bum cheeks. Each time the strap cracked he groaned. I had been keeping count and after twelve strokes his backside resembled a glowing red tomato.

Up until then although I had been hitting him hard my strokes had not been full strength. I had been feeling my way and learning how to use the strap and understand how much pain and damage it could safely cause. Now I was confident and decided to give him the last four strokes full strength.

I took a step back, raised the strap behind my shoulder, and stepping forward and turning at the waist I drove the leather with all my strength across his bum. As the strap cracked and his buttocks twitched and trembled he spoke for the first time.

"Fuck!"

"Three more like that," I said.

"Oh fuck no! Please!"

"Oh fuck yes. You wanted this. Remember."

Three more times the strap cracked against his bottom and each time he swore until he finally lay still.

We weren't finished. it was time for the cane. I walked around the table holding the cane in my right hand and stood in front of him before slowly and deliberately wiping it with a disinfectant wipe. Then, as he followed me with his eyes, I swished it through the air.

I used the cane cautiously. I measured it across his arse flicked It back rapidly behind my back and then as my arm brought it quickly forward I used my wrist to drive the tip into his bum flesh. The result was immediate and gratifying. First a white mark appeared before it slowly filled with blood, and then a ridge slowly started to form. It was accompanied by a gentle whimpering noise from John and as I watched the ridge take shape and darken his bum slowly moved in a circular motion.

I waited a minute before I struck again. This time the stroke was lower and harder but nowhere near full force. He whimpered louder, his buttocks rotated, and a fresh ridge formed below and parallel to the first. I waited until his bottom stopped moving and delivered a third harder stinging stroke and was promptly rewarded by a screech of pain and renewed rapid wriggling of his cheeks as a third welt appeared.

After that, his real punishment started. The fourth stroke followed quickly afterwards and then another and another. I no longer waited for his movement to still and his bum was in constant and lewd motion. The cane rhythmically whistled and cracked whilst John screeched incoherently.

After twelve strokes I paused. His arse was traversed with a pattern of parallel "tramlines," and I was sure he had been well punished. Nonetheless I had promised more than Angela had delivered and decided he needed two more. And so two further rapid cuts were driven hard and fast before I was finished.

His punishment was over. I undid his bindings and left him to lie over the table to recover for a few minutes. As he lay face down I gently ran my finger over his swollen bruised buttocks and felt the deep ridges carved into the flesh. I had broken the skin only in a couple of places and wiped him carefully with a disinfectant wipe. He gingerly stood up and held his buttocks in his hands and I put my arms around him and held him tight and kissed him on the lips.

"You're very brave," I said. "I love you."

I felt his hardness against me and stepped away. His long, beautiful penis was erect and begging for attention and I knew what I must do. I made him kneel on the sofa and knelt in front of him before pulling my tee shirt over my head and my tits swung free. I had not been wearing a bra.

I held his penis between my breasts and took him in my mouth and slowly fellated him and now the groans I heard were ones of pleasure. Then I took him in hand, and he was hard as rock. I moved his foreskin very slowly and very deliberately over his glans and watched as his mushroom continued to swell and darken in colour. Then holding him between my thumb and two fingers of my right hand I gently continued to wank him. As I worked on him I looked up into his eyes as he looked down. He was very close when I softly spoke to him.

This tiny hand .... The one holding you now, is the same hand that held the cane and disciplined your bare arse just now. It's the same hand that will do the same thing again.. and very soon.

My words were too much for him. He groaned long and loud and I felt his penis swell and pulse in my hand and then rhythmically pump four successive streams of cum over my face and breasts.

***

I got mine the following morning. He took me to the den and bent me naked across the table on the cushions he had lain on. I received a hard animalistic fucking like nothing I had experienced before. I came endlessly. John might have been sore for a week, but I was sore for almost as long.

Shortly afterwards I asked him how my performance stacked up against Angela's.

"What do you think," he said. "If she was half the woman you are I would never have finished with her and then tragically I would never have met you."