The Ten Thousand Dollar Decision Ch. 03


After my introduction to my new Counselor and one of her Clinical Assistants, my head was spinning with visions of paddles, canes, pussy-licking, butt-licking and more.

My other head continued to throb with arousal, its steady flow of pre-cum providing a constant task for me to collect and lick from my finger.

As if the events and revelations of the past hour hadn’t been arousing enough, the sight of Nancy’s trim buttocks in front of me as I followed her down the hallway, and the realization that I would soon have the privilege of burying my face between her cheeks, thus paying homage to her spectacular ass-ets, provided yet further excitement to my racing mind.

Our walk through this main hallway ended and we entered a room that was comfortable, yet utilitarian. Soft carpet beneath my bare feet and a warm ambient temperature, combined to provide an almost cozy atmosphere.

This coziness, however, was in stark contrast with items that I recognized from my internet explorations.

A punishment bench, covered in leather, boasted leather restraints for wrists, ankles, thighs, and waist, and I would obviously be in a kneeling position on it for correction.

Next to this apparatus was a leather-covered conventional bench with restraints at each corner for wrists and ankles and a waist-strap midway down its length.

Next to this was what I had learned on the internet to be a whipping horse. Looking like a pommel horse without the pommels, it too had leather cuffs at its base for ankles and wrists, with another strap across the top to restrain the waist.

The walls were not, as in a typical internet fantasy of a ‘dungeon’, lined with punishment instruments.

Instead, there were several wood chiffoniers along one of the walls – presumably filled with the necessary tools for Nancy and the other Clinical Assistants that the Counselor had described.

The remaining three walls were covered with floor-to-ceiling drapes.

Needless to say, I presumed that this Doctor/Counselor would be using these unseen, yet feared, instruments of my correction and training in the coming days and weeks.

“David, I want you to kneel on the punishment bench for the first part of today’s training. As you heard your counselor, it will be my responsibility to spank you severely enough to bring you beyond tears to actual sobbing.

“I want you to understand that I take my responsibilities very seriously. Make no mistake. Before I am finished with your first spanking since your arrival today, you will be reduced to begging. Know that I will not be moved by your tears nor by your begging.

“Once I begin your spanking, there will be no turning back. I want to confirm that you are submitting to this training of your own free will and that you are not being coerced or threatened into accepting this discipline.

“Do you want me to spank you, David? Do you want me to spank you severely and cause you to cry; to sob like a little girl? Answer me!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Nancy had been speaking while fastening the restraints and I was now firmly in place, unable to even squirm, much less escape the coming spanking, now a fait accompli.

“I will be using a wooden paddle, a quarter of an inch thick, in order to minimize bruising and maximize stinging. Between sets with the paddle, I will use a rattan cane, also delivered in sets.

“I want you to sob and scream from your spanking, straining against your bindings. Finally, I want you to surrender to your thrashing, knowing that we will never injure you. We will, on the other hand, hurt you very severely. We begin now.”

Her words were punctuated by a stinging on my right buttock that was obviously delivered with skill. As I processed the pain from this first spank, I knew with a certainty that I was in the right place.

I knew that I wanted to be my wife’s submissive husband. I knew that there was a price to be paid for this privilege. I knew in my heart that I also needed to be stripped of my male pride and freed from my macho self-image in order to yield to Gloria’s dominance.

My analysis was caused to cease with the relentless application of the wooden paddle. Its sting was indescribable, each spank cumulating with the previous spanks to create a fire in my butt that I’d never felt.

Again, I knew that Nancy had just started. I’d not been counting the spanks as she aimed the paddle from one cheek to the other, time after time, over and over.

She wasn’t spanking particularly hard and she seemed to read my mind when I was thinking this.

“Notice, David, that we don’t beat you hard. It’s not necessary. By spanking harder, we would simply increase the probability of injury. We know that a relentless application of paddles and canes will achieve the desired results; tears, surrender, submission.”

Nancy could apparently chew gum and walk at the same time as the saying went. She didn’t miss a beat (pun intended) with the paddle as she lectured.

“Notice, also, that I am Escort bayan alternating the spanks from one cheek to the other. In a moment you will learn the difference achieved by repetitive spanks to one cheek. In this pursuit, and to be certain that you learn this difference, this is what I will do.”

Nancy had stopped her metronomic paddling and I could feel my butt’s heat from her initial assault.

“When I resume your spanking, I will be giving you two spanks per cheek, then three, four, etc., until we reach ten. I will be very disappointed and totally shocked if you aren’t a sobbing mess before we get to ten. Whether your sobbing begins at three or nine, I will break you now.

“I understand that this will be the first time that a woman has spanked you to tears. I will enjoy being the woman to introduce you to the realization of your fantasies. Cry for me now, David.”

One, two on my left cheek – not so bad. Two on the right cheek. Three left, three right. Four, five, six, and my resolve not to cry out and beg was obliterated. I felt ashamed and unmanly as I begged Nancy to slow down for a moment, not so fast, please stop, on and on went my begging. And on and on went the spanking.

I lost count way before Nancy had finished her demonstration; long before we’d reached ten per cheek. I knew the count only because the paddling had ceased and I concluded that she’d completed the series to ten.

Perhaps the paddling had ceased but my sobbing had not. I was shamed by my unmanly display, wondering if previous occupants to this punishment bench had acquitted themselves with greater aplomb.

“That was the first part of your spanking, David. In a moment, after you’ve somewhat recovered from what I consider a ‘warm up’, I will introduce you to the cane.”

Warm up? Good grief! While it had probably taken less than ten minutes to reduce me to a blubbering mess, the spanking that I had just received was by far more severe than anything that I’d previously experienced. My butt was throbbing and felt hot and swollen.

“While the sensations from the rattan will be very much different from the wooden paddle, the result will be the same. When I’ve finished with a series of the cane, you will again be begging and crying.

“This room is sound-proofed and you shouldn’t resist your need to cry and sob. In fact, I enjoy the sounds of your crying as they provide an affirmation that my efforts are effective.”

As Nancy had been speaking, I’d regained some semblance of recovery from her so-called warm up spanking.

I knew that there was nothing that I could do to prevent the coming caning nor, for that matter, what was to follow from, presumably, an even more severe chastisement from the Counselor. My respite was brief, however.

The sting of the cane was indescribable. I’d read stories on the ‘net that said a cane stroke was like a line of bee stings or a line of fire as it connected with bare flesh. These descriptions were not inaccurate.

As with the paddle, Nancy didn’t pause for long between spanks, delivering the rattan cane strokes with perhaps a ten-second interval between.

I attempted to count to myself as she continued her relentless assault on my already inflamed buttocks but soon lost count. I’d been able to count to fifteen before I simply broke down, again, in uncontrollable sobbing.

“That’s right, David. Don’t be afraid to cry and beg. There is nothing unmanly about it. You’ve proven your manliness by your display of courage, subjecting yourself to this and more.

“You have proven your manliness by acknowledging your desire to totally satisfy and serve the one woman that you love and cherish above all else. You have nothing to prove now. You aren’t here to prove anything. You are here to learn.”

As with the paddling, she lectured while she spanked, with no interruption to the thrashing. Thrashing, I thought, was the correct term to describe what I was receiving.

The cane’s ceaseless message of pain had reduced me, again, to a sobbing mess. Suddenly the cane strokes were delivered much more rapidly – perhaps one stroke every two seconds – and the result was devastating.

“With the paddle, you learned that we use multiple spanks to the same spot in order to intensify the pain. We also use rapidity to cause you greater distress and this is especially true with the cane.

“You’re now experiencing the effect of this more rapid delivery. I want to hear you scream and beg for me, David.”

“Please, ma’am, not so fast. Can we please stop for a moment?”

I was disgusted with my own crying and begging, feeling unmanned in spite of Nancy’s words. I had grown up believing that men simply did not cry.

I’d held my tears at my mother’s funeral, after cancer took her away at a young age. I’d avoided tears when Gloria had spanked me, though I had learned this day that her love pats were simply inadequate in the pursuit of my genuine submission.

I was learning my lesson of submissiveness Bayan escort the hard way. I was learning through pain of a nature that I’d never imagined, let alone experienced.

I’d told Gloria that men were basically pigs. That men who saw her in public would, with rare exceptions, want to fuck her, to lick her pussy, to lick her butt.

I’d told her that this power of women was, for the most part, unrealized among women. That most women would have difficulty accepting the fact that, as they strolled through the mall, for instance, watching eyes undressed them and imagined their nude body revealed for them to see.

I’d told her I believed that my status as her husband didn’t automatically confer the privilege to give her pleasure.

I’d told her that I was prepared to accept whatever regimen of discipline and punishment that she dictated – in order to earn the privilege of fucking her, of licking her, of doing for her what most men (and not a few women) would dearly desire if given the chance.

I was learning, now, that the expression of no skin off my ass was the inverse of what I was now enduring.

I was paying with the skin of my ass, accepting that my buttocks were swollen, welted, and no doubt blistering from my first experience over this punishment bench.

I’d heard the Counselor say that I was to learn to sexually serve a woman – the whole point of this time and expense being to learn to better serve and pleasure Gloria – and Nancy was clarifying for me the price that would be exacted from my body and, for that matter, my mind, for such privileges.

As with the paddling, Nancy had paused in her castigation, giving me time to recover from the latest lesson that I’d learned – a lesson of pain, and how the cane differed but replicated the experience into unmanning. I was learning that this unmanning was necessary.

I knew from my reading, and from my own experience, that men were, in fact, like little boys inside. I’d read of how they threw temper tantrums, flying off the handle over nonsense. Guilty, as charged!

Many were the times that I’d embarrassed myself by my childish actions. I was under no illusions that the training I was to receive in this clinic would cure me of this basic nature.

I did, though, expect that I could be trained to moderate such infantile behavior and also taught to understand the consequences of same. The consequences, I was rapidly learning, were far more severe than I had imagined.

Somehow, I knew intuitively that this severity was necessary. I knew that, if I was to be genuinely submissive to Gloria, that I would be required to become totally familiar with being thrashed.

And, in spite of my tears, my crying, my sobbing, my begging, I knew that this journey that Gloria and I had embarked upon would give us a oneness that other couples could never dream of.

Again, my thoughts were interrupted by Nancy’s voice.

“It’s time to repeat this cycle again, David. That is, I will now repeat the paddling that you received, following it with another caning.”

“Please, ma’am, no more, I can’t take it.”

“First, David, you were told to keep your mouth shut. We allow you to cry and beg for mercy during a spanking. We do not allow for discussion.

“Sorry, David, but you can and will take it. You will learn today that you are not the choreographer for your spankings, for your training.

“You are here to learn submission and in this pursuit, we will be relentless.”

Nancy had stopped talking and was now concentrating on my second paddling since we’d entered this room. Unlike my first paddling, this was much faster but, as she’d previously explained, no harder.

Although it was no harder, the rapidly snapping spank of the paddle was much more painful owing to both the speed of the swats and the tenderizing that my buttocks had already endured from what I now understood had been only my first paddling, followed by my first caning.

Both had reduced me to crying, to sobbing, to unmanning. This second paddling had brought tears before Nancy even started. It had brought begging, again, before Nancy had begun anew with the wooden sting with which I’d so recently become familiar.

What I was not yet familiar with, though, was the excruciating pain wrought with this second application of her wooden stinger following so closely after what I’d already endured.

“You will be punished when Doctor Evans joins us. You will be punished for speaking out of turn to me twice. You will be punished because you need to learn what punishment feels like after a proper serving of discipline from my paddle and my cane.”

The paddle was driving me into a frenzy. Without a doubt, had I not been so securely bound to the punishment bench, I would have hurt myself in a vain attempt to escape from the paddle’s incomprehensible – before today – level of pain.

“Time for us to go from two up to ten, David. Remember this exercise? What a joy it will be to hear your Escort girlish shrieks and know that my competence with this paddle is the catalyst for your distress. Cry harder for me now, David.”

Her admonishment to cry harder was unnecessary. I was already a mess, my face streaming tears from both eyes, my nose leaking a disgusting flow of mucus, my breath being caught in gasps as I sobbed like a baby.

I had said that I wanted to cry like a little girl. This was far beyond that. I realized that it would never be justified to thrash a child in this manner.

I realized also that, though I often behaved as a child, my childish behavior being one of the reasons that I found myself over this bench being thrashed unmercifully, I was not a child.

I was a man. And as a man, as a man purporting to desire submission to his wife, I needed to be brought to heel.

I needed to be broken down so that I could be remade in an image that would be conducive to a long and happy marriage with the woman that I had adored for two decades. The woman that I longed to cherish, to devote myself to.

I yearned for a relationship that found me, tear-faced, between Gloria’s thighs; between Gloria’s butt cheeks.

Paying respect and demonstrating my devotion. This, then, was why many referred to this commitment as devotional sex.

I’d been lost in a sea of pain and almost disconnected from this second paddling. I was aware only of the increase in the amount and difference in quality by this corporal punishment to my bottom.

Again, I realized that Nancy had finished this set only because, after minutes had elapsed without further spanks from the paddle, my sobbing was beginning to abate – slightly.

Oh, no. I could feel Nancy tapping the cane against my buttocks, as if aiming for her next set with the cane.

I begged. I screamed that I truly couldn’t endure any more. And then I began crying uncontrollably, before she’d even begun with the cane.

I knew in my heart that she wouldn’t acquiesce to my entreaties but beyond reason, I begged for mercy. As expected, Nancy ignored my pleading and resumed with my training.

“I hope you are learning, David. Your crying and sobbing have been music to my ears. Your begging has been a tacit acknowledgement that you recognize your position.

“It is for you to beg and for Doctor Evans and her Clinical Assistants to teach you to do so as you are brought to levels of submission that few men are privileged to experience.”

Nancy was again demonstrating that she was able to lecture and spank simultaneously. The cane was spanking with barely a few seconds between cuts. I knew that my butt must be a mess and didn’t know how much more that I could endure.

Immediately, after this thought, I realized that I could and would endure whatever my trainers dictated. They, after all, knew how to train a submissive husband.

This was their expertise – and I was acutely feeling that expertise on my already sore and swollen buttocks.

“Actually, David, you’ve taken the first part of your thrashing rather well. Of course you have cried copiously. You’ve sobbed and begged. These things are expected of you and you’ve not disappointed in that respect.

“Aside from that, though, you’ve shown the courage of your convictions. You’ve begged for me to slow down or not to spank you any further today. You’ve not begged to leave. So, just for fun, do you want to leave?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Do you want to be spanked by Doctor Evans after you’ve been milked? After you have lost any sexual component to your thrashing?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do you want me to finish this caning by caning you even more severely? Before you answer, know that if you ask for it, I will concentrate on the under curve of your buttocks, where your bottom is most sensitive.

“If you voluntarily consent to this further caning, I will remove my skirt and blouse. Be advised that I am not wearing underwear and my pussy has been waxed thoroughly. This is true of all our Clinical Assistants, as well as Doctor Evans.

“Additionally, I will be parting the drapes on the wall to your left, which will uncover the floor-to-ceiling mirrors behind them.

“This will allow you to watch me, nude, give you the additional training with the cane. If you want to learn, David, ask me now to cane you in that manner.”

Nancy had stopped the caning, waiting for my response. As I gathered my thoughts, I could feel my butt throbbing from the unprecedented thrashing that she had so professionally delivered.

“Yes, ma’am. I want to learn. Please cane me, as you described, on the under curves of my buttocks. Please cane me severely and give me the privilege of crying for you.”

“Very nice speech, David. I’d be very happy to accommodate you. Know now what a caning can feel like as I introduce you to this next refinement to a proper and thorough caning.”

Nancy had stopped speaking and had gone to the wall and parted the drapes. As described, the wall was covered with mirrors and I could see her walk back to my side.

As promised, she then removed her skirt and blouse, revealing a flawless body, totally nude, totally without hair other than that on her head.