The College: Receiving An Education

Chapter Three-1

Chapter Three

Twelve months have passed, twelve interesting months of being mistress to my husband, during which time my life has changed in every possible way. The evening after our disastrous wedding night had been the first time in my life that I had ever picked up a cane, and said those immortal words to anyone, let alone to my new husband.

‘Bend over’. I could still taste the relish I had felt on my lips as I had uttered them. He had bent over straining hard to touch his toes, right there in front of me in the middle of our honeymoon suite. Thinking back I could clearly remember looking at his tight bowstring taut arise, as it filled out and stretched the cotton material of his shorts. Drawing on his book for inspiration I had snapped at him to ‘get them down, now!’ whilst tapping at the taut material with the cane tip. Peter much to my growing excitement had pulled with haste and exulted clumsiness at his waistband, eagerly tugging them, his shorts to his ankles, his excitement fully obvious.

I watched feeling as eager as he appeared, as the material flowed down flattening his hairy legs. The bulging, engorged swelling of his c**k had flopped out to stand erect; it looked to my mind like some military flagpole wavering in the wind grip of a storm. It flapped and reared exhibiting a mind of its own. I found myself struggling to restrain a laugh at the ludicrous image he presented to me, even as he assumed my instructed position. His rock hard c**k now pressed its swollen head against his flabby stomach, waiting for me, his wife, to beat him.

If I had been in any doubt that this kind of treatment was what he really desired it vanished immediately. That first caning had been very traditional. I had given him what I thought of as six of the best. In hind-sight and with later acquired experience, I have come to realise that my strokes that day had been pretty ineffectual as cane strokes went, but at least lines had appeared across his naked buttocks.

Deep red lines, like train tracks marked his buttocks. He had taken all six with little show of reaction, though I could see by the fifth that he was twitching in an attempt to ease the heat that my cane tip had developed across his naked cheeks. That had been the first time, since then I have refined my technique, and improved my equipment.

Despite the thought and effort that I put into providing for his needs, I still felt that there was something that was not quite right, not wrong as such, but also not perfect yet.

I spent a lot of time thinking about our situation, trying to figure out exactly what was bothering me; finally, one Saturday, I realised. My problem was simple; I just do not really understand my position, or how to get the best out of it for him and, of course, me.

Peter, in his own way, it became clear as we talked, despite enjoying the situation immensely, found my inexperience a trifle frustrating. He could not do more than hint at things that I might like to indulge myself with, of course, at his expense. He desperately hoped that patience and obedience to my demands would as my confidence and experience increased reap their just deserts.

“Bills,” I muttered to myself as I switched on the computer. At least, since my grandfather died, leaving me both his old house and a fair few thousand pounds to run it, I am now financially solvent, independent even. I no longer have to concern myself with the mundane worries of paying a mortgage or gas bill, or for that matter, I smiled to myself, any other financial problems. Even my credit card had a healthy balance these days. Having money had certainly given me a lot of freedom, but now that I had the time and money, I wanted to do something with it, something to benefit us both.

Peter had worked. When we got married, he had held a reasonably well paid job in a hardware shop being the assistant manager; although he had hated it. I insisted that instead he should work for us, as the mistress of the house, he obeyed me. In the last year I sent him on four trade courses to learn various aspects of house renovation and then I set him to work re-modeling, as the Americans like to call D.I.Y.

He had obeyed me explicitly and seemed to be enjoying the tasks I set him. With the bills electronically settled, I found myself staring at the computer screen. Flashing in the corner is a search engine. Almost without thought I typed in the word ‘Obedience’ and hit search. As expected a long list of possible sites appeared. Narrow the parameters I thought, so I put in ‘S&M Obedience’.

Two kennels and a training school appeared on my list. I nearly booted out of the search engine, later I would wish that I had, but ‘the school’, caught and held my attention. I looked further. I opened up their web page; what happened instantly, made me jump in surprise, so unexpected was the large purple letters, which flashed at me, filling my screen. I remember reading them not once but twice.

‘For Adult Examination Only’

Without thinking I looked for the open box, but instead I found a demand for identifying my age by date of birth. Smiling at the daftness of being able to put whatever I want, I typed my date of birth. I remember thinking that I could have typed any old date; now I know how wrong that thought was.

The screen went blank for a second then flashed ‘searching’. To my surprise, next appeared an application form, which required the answers to simple questions, such as my name and post-code, prior to my being able to proceed. Something told me to continue, I did not understand then, nor do I now, what drove me to continue on, perhaps it was just good old feminine intuition, but continue I did.

Having accepted the data my computer went haywire for a second or two, just long enough for the word ‘Virus’ to flash in my brain, and then up popped another message, this time offering me a ‘print out page’ option. I pressed print, immediately I could hear my printer churning out paper. The screen blanked once more, then flashed up yet another message: ‘Enter, ANDROMEDA’ for further direct access it says. Another change, another blank screen, finally an image slowly appeared, that of an austere, large, dominating building, swirling through an early evening mist. Written below the image is the message.

‘Thank you for your enquiry, we will be taking further steps to ascertain your need for our specialised services, and will contact you shortly ‘Eleanor’. Please peruse the supplied details and consider your situation and requirements very carefully, as the training program that you have incepted will be detailed and all encompassing.’

The screen blanked off, the connection had been cut, and I was back looking at my search engine. ‘Weird’ I remembered, thinking what was all that about, reaching out for the papers in my printer tray. At least everything seemed to be back to normal and without damage to the system I hope.

As I paid the bills and searched the internet, Peter much to his annoyance has been assigned a job that I know he had been hoping to put off for sometime. Located beneath the hall stairs we had discovered a utility cupboard. Thoughtfully, a light had been fitted and when switched on we had received quite a surprise. There was a wooden hatch set into the floor, which once opened, revealed descending wooden stairs. The light switch had also turned on bulbs lighting up that stairway that led to a cellar.

***

Unfortunately for Peter it was filled with years of hoarded junk.

Madam had decided that it was time for this mess to be sorted, and as she had made absolutely clear to me that was my responsibility, by saying ‘get it done’!

As she had departed from the cellar room and seemingly as an after thought, she had turned and told me that she didn’t want my clothes getting dirty, so I had better clean naked. She had stood and watched me, as slowly I stripped. Then she held out her hand for the items. She offered me the option of a pinny to hide my modesty, at least to a small degree. I knew exactly which one she had in mind. Yes it would cover my slightly hairy chest, but that was about all. She had left me then without another word, taking my clothes with her!

Standing naked in the slight chill of the cellar and damn it with a huge erection, I wondered how I could find this humiliation so bloody attractive. My c**k understands even if I do not. Still it just feels right. Deep inside the situation feels right, my position within the household feels right, even my position as her husband feels good. My c**k bobs in time to my thoughts, adding its own form of agreement to my acceptance and true role. Turning from the door, I had work to do, and do it I would, my c**k nods in agreement once more. I rub at it gently, almost subconsciously. The feeling felt nice but not right, if she had returned just then, God knows what would have happened to me. She has banned all self-abuse, whether deliberate, or as in this case subconsciously. ‘Cleaning,’ I remind myself, subservient cleaning, what a delight.

***

Ellie picked up the papers from the printer tray. There were four of them, the front cover being the image of the mist-coated mansion.

She could see that there was something to the right of the building, but it was both very small and obscured. Statuary, I decided, how wrong could a girl be, sitting myself comfortably, I commence to read and puzzle over my odd acquisition.

For a brief second Peter flickered through my thoughts, I smiled to myself, visualising him down there in the cellars beneath my feet, naked and sweating, picking up and bagging all that disgusting rubbish. In a strange way I found his position to be reassuring, if not a little bit of a turn on; perhaps I could get into this situation eventually, if only I could get a grip on my own hang-ups, then who knows.

Once Peter has finished bagging up the trash I will have him carry it all outside and prepare it for a bonfire, by then I think, it should be dark and probably quite cold, and of course he will still be naked. The thought tickled my fancy and quite appealed.

I would sit in my nice warm lounge with a glass of wine, somewhere he could see me as he made his trips. I found myself looking forward to watching him work. I would enjoy it, that much I knew, but I also knew that he would also, despite his shivers. What a strange husband I have, but at least I can enjoy my leisure time, and know exactly where and what he is doing.

***

With the last bag neatly tied up Peter let out a deep sigh of relief at having completed her instructions!

I like to think of any request that she made of me as being an order. There are times that she just hasn’t got a clue about being a mistress to me. She has never before left the ‘vanilla world’, the world of the normal heterosexual. Often it seemed to be a real struggle for her too even give me a simple order; but sometimes, I detected a slight glimmer from her of both amusement and delight with my predicament. An enjoyment of her making me suffer, just like now, with this job, it gave me hope for our future.

I, given the choice, would have ignored the cellars and carried on with other work, but for reasons of her own she has insisted that I cleared and swept out the dark space. Like all good slaves I jumped to, and did exactly as I was told. Glancing around the room, feeling quite proud of my efforts, wiping sweat from my brow using my rather dirty forearm, I survey the dark corners of the basement. Looking for that one thing that she might spot and complain about, with a smile I realised that there was not a thing wrong or undone.

My reluctant mistress should be well pleased with my labours. Satisfied I turn towards the stairs, intending to grab a much-needed glass of water, before reporting my completion to her. What was to follow confirmed to me that perhaps there was hope for me; perhaps she could make my dreams into some sort of reality. She was standing on the third step of the dimly lit stairway, looking down into the cellar; clearly, she could see both me, and also the large pile of black waste bags that I had neatly stacked up ready for disposal. She points towards the stack, totally ignoring my disheveled, dirty and naked state, saying forcefully.