Charlie and Megan Wilson


Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including BiSexual, Wimp Husband, Cuckold, FemaleDom, Spanking, Humiliation, Interracial, .

Desc: BDSM Sex Story: He's into being dominated, and she is more than willing to help him out.

"Who's that," I said, as we walked down the hall.

"Her? You can't afford her," said Marissa. "Besides you've got a date with a switch. So, let's try to focus shall we?" she said.

"Yes, yes of course ma'am," I said. For the price of $100 an hour, once a month for the past year, I had had the extreme pleasure of having my hide tanned real good by Marissa. Indeed, during that time, Marissa had been my exclusive date at The Chateau where she worked as a dominatrix.

Nevertheless, knew all of the women that worked at The Chateau or thought I did. But, in that time, I had never seen the new mistress that had just passed us in the hall. She had to be new; like I said, I knew all of the other girls. Still, Marissa had always been my woman of choice to discipline me. Typically, up to two dozen hard ones was the norm and that usually with the strap. At any rate, I had decided that tonight I would move up in class; she was going to do me with the switch: a nasty little instrument with which to take the measure of a sub's courage.

She led me into the room and switched on the light; it, the room, had an appropriately red decor. I stood in the middle of the room and waited for instructions.

She picked up the ball gag from the table across from me and brought it to me. "This will mute some of your screams as we get into the meat of your punishment, Charles. There will be no whining or begging for mercy today. You asked for the real thing, and now you're going to get it. Get yourself up on the gallows, Charlie, and drop your pants down around your ankles," she said. I did as she commanded.

The gallows was actually a raised wooden base maybe two-foot square and eighteen inches off the floor. Above it, a noose of inch-and-a-half hemp hung down about waist high, a noose whose other end ran through a heavy hook in the ceiling and over to another hook in the wall where it was loosely tied off.

"Hands behind your back," she said. She immediately bound my hands tightly behind me with one of three strands of quarter-inch rope she'd gotten while I was mounting the place of my punishment.

Done securing my hands, she did the same with my knees and ankles. I was helpless and gagged. Whatever she was going to do, and I'd asked for no limits this time around, I would be helpless to do anything about it. I saw her go to the narrow supply closet across from me and take out two wicked looking switches. They were going to sting big time. Oddly, I wasn't afraid. In fact, all I could think of was the beauty I'd seen in the hall when we'd come in: the one I couldn't afford. My four-inch cock stuck straight out in front of me.

"Well, Charlie, last night some of the girls and I talked over what your sentence should be after you called and made the appointment. Glenda suggested fifty slow ones with the strap. But the others opted for a far worse sentence. That, after I explained to them that you'd requested a really harsher punishment. You're getting the switch today, Charlie, and you're getting one hundred not fifty. They will be slow ones so that you'll have time to really regret your choice," she said. I think I was shaking my head, but she was just smiling at me.

"Frightened, Charlie? You should be. It's too late for you to back out." She came close. She laid the switches down on the base I was standing on and wrapped my neck in a silken cloth, presumably to prevent me getting rope burns on my neck: I did have to work on Monday. Done, she slipped the noose over my head and around my neck, tightening it. Going over to the wall, where the other end of the rope was fastened, she took up the slack enough to force me up on my toes so that my head was bent slightly forward. I turned to see her walking toward me.

Picking up one of the switches, she walked around me wordlessly taunting me. I saw her raise her arm high. The switch cracked as it impacted by naked buttock eliciting a muted scream from the depths of me. Jesus it stung, and I had ninety-nine to go! My cock, which had been hard as a rock and sticking straight out in front of me, wilted like a flower in the desert heat.

My punishment continued. I was crying and doing my best to beg for mercy after the first twenty. She completely ignored me. I was going to get it this time and there was nothing that was going to save me. I was up on my toes and squirming like crazy. Each time I saw her raise her hand I tried to maneuver to reduce the impact; I was mostly unsuccessful. It was hell.

I couldn't be sure, but I think after about number seventy-five she started to slack off on the cruelty of the blows. But even so, it stung like mad.

My chest hair was soaked from the tears I was shedding. Then, she was done. My punishment had taken forty-five minutes. She casually walked over to the utility closet and put away the switches. Turning and looking at me she smiled.

"Well, now we know what a wimp you really are don't we stud," she said, mocking me. She went over to the wall and loosed the rope allowing me to stand flatfooted once more. God was that a relief. I hadn't cramped up, but almost.

Removing the gag first, she appraised me. My butt was black and blue and bleeding in a couple of spots. I'd be a week minimum getting over this one.

She came to me and played absently with my cock. "Hmm," she said. "It's coming back to life. Too bad you're such a candy ass, or I might be tempted to suck your cock." She was teasing me, but it was working. Even amidst the searing pain of my ass I was becoming almost hard once again.

She untied me, and told me to make myself presentable, and then she left the room. Getting down from the gallows, I pulled up my pants, and went into the adjacent bathroom to clean up my face and hair, the latter of which was soaked with perspiration. My gait was not steady, nor would it be for a while. But, at least I was able to control my urge to bawl.

Marissa met me in the lobby. "So, how was it stud? Sorry you asked for it?" she said.

"No, no. I needed it, but I won't kid you. If you hadn't gagged me, I would have begged you to stop. I mean it; that was really bad for a while," I said.

"Yes, well that's what punishment is supposed to be, stud. Remember that next time you ask for special treatment."

"I will," I said.

My butt was still plenty sore from my once a month session at the Chateau. But, apart from that I was fine. In fact fine wasn't the word: I felt good, satisfied, and kind of giddy. Marissa really knew how to push my buttons. In any event, that had been Saturday last; this was Monday; I had a job aching butt or not.

Class over, I headed for the cafeteria a good little distance across the quad. But wait...

I guess this is the point in this write where I should introduce myself. My name is Charlie Wilson. I'm a Ph.D. and an assistant professor of History at Hickory State College. At my current age of thirty-six, I find myself in good shape, and still five-five and one-fifty: same as I was in high school all those years ago. Brown hair, brown eyes, and a face that is so average it really is actually forgettable. Regardless, I was hungry: the usual result when I don't eat breakfast.

"Whatcha thinkin' about Charlie?" said a voice behind me as I strolled along the walkway.

"Raine, I didn't see you," I said. Raine Morgan was my counterpart in the English department.

"I kinda figured that when you jumped like you did," she said. She was giggling.

"Nothing just daydreaming I guess," I said. "I'm heading over the caf. I'm starving."

"Okay, see you later," she said, and she headed off. And, as she did, I saw her. No, not Raine, but the stunner I'd spotted at the Chateau two days before. She was standing in the student line looking to get breakfast. I stared for the briefest of moments, but apparently not brief enough; she caught me looking. She smiled; I looked down and moved to the adjacent side counter where the teaching staff got their grub.

I took my tray and meandered among the tables to the far side of the cafeteria. I tried not to look back, but I did anyway. That I was embarrassed would not begin to tell the tale. There was a big black guy sitting with her. Probably an athlete by the look of him: tall, well built, and smiling to beat the band. Well, and well he might, he was with the prettiest female in the place. I wondered if he knew where she worked on weekends.

A horrible thought hit me! What if she were telling him that one of the teachers here was a client! I kept my eyes, not too obviously, focused on them. He never looked my way. I guessed she'd not said anything to him.

I got up, dabbing at my lips with my napkin, and took my tray to the dump window and pushed it through. She literally bumped into me trying to do the same thing as me. She smiled. "Hi," she said. I nodded and tried not to seem embarrassed.

"Hi," I said. Well, it was a short syllable, and I was able to get it out without betraying the turmoil overwhelming my psyche.

"You needn't be concerned, doctor Wilson. I'm not outing you. Just relax," she said. I just swallowed—hard. She knew me. I nodded.

"Oh, okay," I said. I turned and headed away, not wanting to get into a conversation. No, that's isn't right. I did want to get into a conversation with her, I was just too damn chicken to do so.

I had two more morning classes before I would be office bound for the rest of the day. The school was the academic home to eighteen thousand students. I figured that I might not be seeing her again, at least not so up close and personal, as had been the case today; and I was relieved at the thought. Well, that was my thought at the moment.

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