Taming Him... Part 7... Pain... Good boy!

 

I flexed my hand slightly. It held a bamboo cane. I was tasting, err… testing the cane. Well, a freudian slip, I must admit, but an interesting one. I could actually taste his anticipation, and the heaviness of the air on my lips, and in my nostrils.

His next lesson was going to be pain. Pain would also be a teacher, and I wielded it with precision—not to harm, but to reveal. He remained on his knees, hands on his thighs, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. His cock twitched faintly, a reminder of his body’s betrayal, but I ignored it. This wasn’t about his pleasure.

“You wanted intensity,” I said, my voice steady and low. “You’ll get it now. Twenty strikes. You’ll count each one aloud. Miscount, hesitate, or break position, and we start over. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he replied, his voice quivering but resolute.

I stepped behind him, running the cane lightly along his spine, letting him feel its promise. “Brace yourself. This isn’t a game.”

The first strike landed across his ass, a sharp crack that echoed in the room. He yelped, his body jolting forward, but he caught himself. “One!” he gasped, his voice tight with pain.

“One what?” I barked at him as I struck again. Harder this time.

“One, Mistress. Thank you Mistress.”

I was amused. He clung to the last figments of his control, bratting, trying to top from bottom. But I ignored it again.

The second came quickly, a parallel line blooming red beside the first. “Two, Mistress, thank you very much!” His hands clenched into fists on his thighs, but he held position.

By the tenth strike, his ass was a lattice of welts, and his voice had turned into a ragged chant. “Ten, Mistress, thank you very much!” he cried, tears streaming down his face, his knees trembling beneath him. I paused, letting him breathe, watching the way his shoulders shook and his chest heaved. Pain was stripping him bare, peeling back the layers of bravado he’d worn like armor.

“You’re halfway,” I said, my tone even. “This isn’t about endurance, cunt. It’s about letting go. Unless you feel it, unless you let it break you open, you won’t know!”

The eleventh strike was harder, and he choked out, “Eleven, Mistress!” His body rocked, but he steadied himself, tears dripping onto the mattress. I didn’t rush—each blow was deliberate, a rhythm of revelation.

By the fifteenth stroke, his counting was a sob, his voice raw and broken. “Fifteen, Mistress!” He had stopped thanking me. I didn’t mind. He was withdrawing now into that deeper place within himself.

Based on what he had told me, pain wasn’t something he had preferred, but pain affected him nonetheless. He had wanted me to break him, and then rebuild him. That is what I would do.

When we reached twenty, he was a mess—sweat-soaked, tear-streaked, his ass a map of my will. “Twenty, Mistress. Thank you very much.” he whispered, barely audible, and collapsed forward onto his elbows, his forehead pressing into the mattress.

I set the cane aside and knelt beside him, my hand hovering over his back but not touching yet. “Look at me,” I said softly.

He lifted his head, his eyes red and wet, meeting mine with a vulnerability I hadn’t seen before. “Who’s in control here?” I asked.

“You are, Mistress,” he breathed, no hesitation, no pride—just surrender.

I gently caressed his ass. He winced.

“Good boy!”, I whispered.

The dam burst open. He wept shamelessly now. Sobbed without a care in the world.

I pulled him forward. Into my arms. I let him weep.

After a while, I gently instructed, “Lie on your stomach. Arms at your sides.”

He obeyed, wincing as his raging hard-on pressed against the mattress, but he didn’t complain. I sat next to him, applied salve to the angry red welts on his ass. “Pain is a teacher, boy. It’s taught you something today. We’re almost there.”

He snuggled closer, nodded faintly, his breath hitching, and I could see the cracks widening—his resistance shattering, his trust growing.

Asmi
30.03.2025

Taming Him Part 6 - Submit!

The room was stifling now, the air thick with his exertion and my resolve.

He knelt before me, hands behind his head, his chest heaving as he tried to steady himself. I stopped in front of him, tilting his chin up again with the toe of my shoe—not cruelly, but firmly. His eyes met mine, no longer glassy. I held his gaze. For a few minutes.

There it was. Something he was learning to hide. He was playing games. I could see it in his eyes, very deeply buried, but present.

Annoyance.

It was annoyance.

It was as if he was back in that armour of his. Annoyed at what he thought was some roleplay.

He still thought this was a game, and that he was too good for this.The welts from earlier had faded to faint pink lines, but his pride was still raw, bleeding beneath the surface.

I wasn’t done stripping it away.

At least, not yet.

I set the crop aside and picked up a shallow clay bowl from the table, filling it with water from a jug. I placed it on the floor in front of him, not gentle, not rough, just affirming that everything is in its right place.

“Drink,” I said, stepping back.

“No hands. Like the beast you are.”

His eyes widened, a flicker of that old defiance sparking before he smothered it. He lowered his face to the bowl, hesitating as his lips hovered above the water.

I tapped my foot impatiently. “Must I repeat myself?”

“No, Mistress,” he mumbled, and then he drank.

It was annoying really. His bratty attitude. I hadn’t permitted him to call me Mistress yet. And he’d called me that. Well, the fact remains I hadn’t corrected him either. I should have.

In truth, I hate being called Mistress. I prefer being called Miss, Ma’am, or simply my name. But this one needed to be put in his place. So, Mistress it is, for now.

His tongue lapped at the water, clumsy and unpracticed, splashing onto his chin and dripping down his chest. The sight was pitiful—a man in a three-piece suit reduced to this, slurping like a stray dog at my command.

I let him continue, circling him slowly. “Look at you,” I said, my voice dripping with mockery. “A big man, a leader, a soon-to-be father, and here you are, groveling in my dirt. Tell me, pup, how does it feel to be so small?”

He paused, water glistening on his lips, and whispered, “It’s… humiliating, Mistress.”

“Speak up,” I snapped.

“It’s humiliating, Mistress!” His voice cracked, louder now, raw with truth.

“Good.”

I stopped in front of him, lgrabbing a firstful of hair in my palm and tilting his chin up again. His eyes met mine again, this time glassy with shame, and I held his gaze.

Finally, it was there!

The submission.

Not yet surrender, but he was crawling back in his head. His cock vouched for it too. I needed to bring him back.

“Humiliation isn’t a toy for your fantasies. It’s a mirror. Look into it. See what you really are. Obedience has to be taught, learnt, practiced though, but later on that!”

He swallowed hard, nodding slightly, and I released him. “Finish it. Every drop.”

He bent back to the bowl, his tongue working faster now, desperate to obey. Water sloshed onto the floor, soaking the mattress, and I watched his struggle with a quiet satisfaction. When the bowl was empty, he sat back on his heels, panting, his face a mess of dampness and defeat.

I tossed him a rough cotton cloth. “Wipe yourself. You’re a disgrace.”

He caught it, wiping his face and chest with shaking hands, his movements slow and deliberate. I could see the exhaustion creeping in, the weight of his own arrogance crumbling under my scrutiny. But I wasn’t here to destroy him—I was here to refine him.

“Kneel properly,” I ordered. “Hands on your thighs, palms up. Chin up, eyes down.”

He adjusted his position, his posture straighter now, though his body ached with the effort. I sat back in my chair, resting my hands on the armrests, and studied him. “Tell me what submission means to you now. No rehearsed lines. Speak from your gut.”

He took a deep breath, his voice trembling but finally earnest. “It’s… it’s about giving up, Mistress. Not fighting you. Trusting you to… to take me apart and put me back together. It’s not about me anymore. It’s about you.”

I leaned forward slightly, my eyes narrowing. “Closer. You’re getting there. But you’re still clinging to something. We’ll rip that out next.”

He shivered, but he didn’t argue. The lesson was sinking in, deeper now, and I could feel the shift—humility starting to bloom where pride once festered.

He would soon… Submit!

Asmi
24.03.2025

Taming Him Part 5 - Resistance

 

Back on his fours, his elbows dug into the mattress, the air thick with the scent of his sweat and my authority. The towel had long since fallen away, leaving him bare, his skin prickling with goosebumps.

I paced around him, my heels clicking deliberately against the tiles of the floor, each step a reminder of who held the reins. His breath was uneven, a mix of exhaustion and defiance, and I could still sense those last remnants of his cockiness buried beneath his trembling form.

He thought he could endure me, outlast me. Foolish pup!

I stopped.

He held his breath.

I stood behind him, my shadow falling over his back.

He didn’t know what to anticipate, and his breath became increasingly ragged, as I tapped the crop lightly against my palm.

“You’re still holding on, aren’t you?” I said, my voice calm but edged with steel. “That little smirk of yours—it’s gone from your face, but it’s still in your head. You think you’re clever, don’t you? That you can play this out on your terms?”

He didn’t respond, but his shoulders stiffened—a telltale sign.

I crouched down, leveling my gaze with his hunched form, though he couldn’t see me. His ass was still red from earlier, his thighs trembling from the strain. I reached out, not touching him, but letting him feel my presence.

From the table, I retrieved a small brass bell—simple, unassuming, but heavy enough to demand effort. I placed it on the small of his back, just above the curve of his spine.
“This stays put,” I instructed, standing up. “You move, it rings, and we start over. No breaks, no mercy. Fifteen minutes. Begin.”

He sucked in a breath, adjusting his posture to keep the bell steady. I returned to my chair, crossing my legs, my demeanour strict.

I watched him silently, the only sound, his shallow breathing and the faint creak of the mattress beneath him.

One minute passed. Two. Two and a half.

His arms began to shake, the bell wobbling slightly but not falling. Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling down his temples, and I could see the effort etched into every muscle.

“Tell me, pup,” my voice cut through the silence, “why do you resist? What’s that pride worth to you? A pat on the head from your office mates? A smug nod from your wife? Or is it just that you can’t stand the thought of losing to me?”

He grunted, the bell trembling. “I—I’m not resisting, Mistress,” he managed, his voice strained.

“Lies!”

I stood, circling him again, the crop swishing through the air.

“You’re fighting me with every breath. You think submission is just a posture—knees on the ground, head bowed. It’s not. It’s in your bones, your blood. And you’re nowhere near that yet.”

The bell rang.

It tipped off his back, clattering onto the mattress with a sharp chime. He froze, his head dropping in defeat. I sighed, a sound heavy with disappointment. “Pick it up. With your mouth. Crawl to me.”

He hesitated, and I brought the crop down hard against the floor beside him—thwack.

“Now, pup!”

He flinched, lowering his face to the mattress, his lips fumbling to grasp the bell. His cheeks burned red, his dignity peeling away with every awkward shuffle as he crawled to my feet. He stopped, the bell clenched between his teeth, and looked up at me, eyes wide with shame.

I took it from him, my fingers brushing his lips briefly, a flicker of contact he hadn’t earned. “Back in position. We’re doing this until you stop fighting me.”

By the third attempt, he lasted ten minutes. His body was slick with sweat, his breath ragged, but the bell stayed put. I stood over him, watching the tremble in his legs, the clench of his jaw.

“Better,” I said finally, plucking the bell from his back. “But not enough. You’re still holding on. We’ll break that soon. May be another time though.”

He collapsed onto his elbows, panting, and I let him rest—just for a moment. The intensity was building, and I could feel it: the slow unraveling of his resistance, thread by thread.

Asmi
21.03.2025

Taming Him Part 4 - Tears!

He knelt quietly.

I sat still too.

No movement, no music, no phone, no sound.

I observed him closely.

He fidgeted. A lot in the beginning.

Slowly, he started becoming still too. His breath deepened, his cock started softening. His mind was somewhere else, I could tell.

I had the timer on. Counting the minutes. 1... 2... 3... 4... 5...

He started fidgeting again, on his knees. It was expected. For someone who hasn't knelt before, 5 minutes can be a long time.

He settled in again, but now he was drooling around the gag.

6... 7... 8...

Not bad, I thought. The drool trickled down his face and finally dripped on his thigh. His cock twitched again.

I finally smirked. For the first time. He couldn't see me. I was not demonstrating bad behavior. And I had earned my smirk after all. I knew in that moment that I had a sensation slut at my feet.

Humiliation, pain, all of that is great. Sensation alone - Oh that's a different level after all. Ignorant pup.

He fidgeted again and raised his ass. Bending forward, he was trying to maintain his balance and go on his shoulders and knees finally. I didn't want him to topple over, so I held his head with my left hand, supporting him. I tapped my crop gently on his knees, indicating that he can push them behind.

He gasped, but didn't try to mumble from behind the gag.

I was mildly impressed.

He took the cue, and soon he was exactly as I wanted him. Naked, on his fours, with a fully raging hard-on, as he parted his thighs to the tap of my crop. Yet aware that I won't let him fall. I won't let him come to harm.

And in that moment, a wall broke inside him.

I could see his body shaking.

He was weeping.

He sobbed like a child. Without any shame. Without any embarrassment.

An unsaid sense of safety in a vulnerable moment can do this.

I let him sob. Slowly he stilled again.

On his fours still. Ass high up. His hard-on still raging, his balls heavy, his hole exposed. At my mercy, vulnerable at my feet.

I looked at the timer.

11 minutes, and a half!

And we had just begun.

Paulo Coelho, were you wrong? Or maybe not.

This pup had broken the record in my experience so far.

It was time.

It didn't have to be 15 minutes. He needed me. And he had earned it reasonably well. I was the decision-maker in any case. So, I uncuffed him, tossed the cuffs on the bed, grabbed a towel from the table, with one hand, his hair with the other, bringing him back to his knees.

I knew there would be wet spots where his tears and drool would have coaked the mattress. This is why I make sure I use a new soaking sheet beneath the bedsheets for every time I train a pup.

As he sat up straight, his breath became shallow again. His tears started flowing again as I wiped his face with the towel.

The earplugs came out first and he heard my voice again. "You're safe. You're with me. And I do not want you to speak yet. Nod if you understand."

He nodded, almost serenely this time.

His gag came off next, and he stretched his legs slowly upon my instruction.

I covered his loins with the towel and gently hushed him. He leaned against me and put his head against my shoulder. I let him. He needed this. He had been obedient. He had earned this.

So, I held him.

"Good pup. We will make a good sub, a good slut, and a good toy out of you. But all in time." I cooed.

He gasped again. Softer this time.

"Shhhh.... it's fine. You're fine. You're here. I will take care of you," I could see my voice calm him down.

I held a water bottle to his mouth.

He sipped hesitantly.

"Drink!" My voice was gentler than I intended.

He gulped down a few more sips, and then I put the bottle back on the sidestand.

"Open your eyes very slowly now," my voice turned firm again, as I removed the blindfold.

His eyes were moist. Red. Glazed.

'He's an easy one,' I thought.

I held his chin. Looked into his eyes.

"Do you want to continue? Use your words."

"Yes, yes please mistress."

"It is going to get tough now. Harsh, unforgiving, possibly unkind. Do you really want that?" I tried to dissuade him.

I didn't want him to wrongly think that he would see my gentle side often. I will give him aftercare, of course. But, kindness? Well, if he wants pain and humiliation, that is what he would get.

"Yes Mistress, please..." he almost begged.

"Back on your fours then. You may use your elbows."

He hesitated, now that he was out of his sensory deprivation.

"Now!" I barked.

And just like that, there he was...

On his fours again!

Asmi
24.7.24

Taming Him Part 3 - Kneel!

"Kneel!" I would have liked to bark, but he had already folded himself at my feet.

He knelt. Awkwardly. Trying to cover his dick.

I tapped the crop gently at his inner thighs.

He took the hint and parted his knees.

His hands were still covering his genitals, and he knelt with a hunch.

It looked like his was an impressive cock, but who cared? I was not interested in his tool. I was more interested in his mind, heart, body, and submission.

Sit up straight! I snapped.

"Arms behind your back!"

"Chin up!"

"Eyes to the floor!"

I barked the orders one after the other as I got up from my chair, moved around him and stood behind him, fixing his posture with a tap of the crop here, and a smack there.

God, I didn't want a pathetic weakling. I wanted a Man.

Just that a cocky man had entered my room, and a submissive man would leave. A man, who I would tame.

But I didn't want a weak, little, pup.

He had goosebumps on his upper arms now.

"Why are you here pup?" I was back in my chair, the crop in my right hand, pointed to the floor.

"Erm... to surrender to you... Mistress...uh...oh..." He mumbled, fumbling for words.

"Speak!"

"To submit to you Mistress." His voice was stronger this time.

So was his cock.

He gasped as my crop gently caressed the underside of his shaft.

"Not a peep, pup!" I pressed the crop where it was, just enough.

He flinched.

"Yes Mistress, I'm sorry Mistress, " he whispered.

"I am now going to gag you, blindfold you, plug your ears, cuff your wrists behind your back, and leave you here, kneeling for the next 15 minutes. If your knees need a break, you may bend forward and lower your shoulders to the floor. Apart from that I do not want to see you move, I do not want to hear you speak. If you need to tap out, you will drop this smiley ball, or tap the back of your palm 3 times against your ass. Do you understand?"

I asked him as I put the crop on the table next to my chair, got up, and started picking the props that I told him, I'd use.

"Yes Mistress, " he whimpered.

"Paraphrase it for me," I instructed.

"Gag, blindfold, no sound, handcuffs. I will kneel or go on fours using my shoulders. No other movements or sounds, duration - 15 minutes. Tap 3 times or drop the ball to safe word, Mistress."

I was impressed.

I knew he was intelligent. His looks, and his well-maintained built weren't his only assets. He was a senior leader in his firm, he was sharp, he was successful. A successful man in his late 30s, no wonder he was also cocky.

I contemplated if I was mistaken. Could I have misread his confidence for his vanity? And then I was reminded of that smirk.

"We shall see." I told myself as I prepped him for the next 15 minutes of silent treatment.

Most pups I train tap out by the end of 5 minutes. The longest one to last so far had lasted 8 minutes. I wanted to see if this one could last.

As I readied him, I deliberately kept my hands away from his skin.

He will be rewarded when he earns it. Till then, he would take only the scrapes.

The earplugs were the last thing I wanted to use.

"For the next 4 hours, you're all mine. And unless one of us taps out, I will not stop. But, by the time I am done with you, you will be my bitch. Do you understand boy? Nod your head thrice if you understand." I almost could feel myself growling as I whispered these words to him.

He was gagged. He nodded... Once... Twice... 3 times.

Good!

"Now, I want you to think deep and hard about what submission really means. Do you think it was appropriate to kneel at my feet, even before I commanded you to? Is that what you think submission is?"

"Is it about that dick of yours that seems to be enjoying itself at your helplessness? Is it about you being at my mercy? Is it about you trusting me? Is it about me trusting you? You will be with nothing else but your thoughts and silence for the next 15 minutes pup!"

Those were my last words to him before I threw him in a world of silence, darkness with just his thoughts for the next 15 minutes.

I knew he would break. Sooner or later.

But his place would always be the same.... At my feet, on his knees.

Never again would he rob me of my command to him.

The one command that will lead to his surrender in my presence.

Every single time.

"Kneel!"

Asmi
23.07.24

Taming Him Part 2 - Strip!

STRIP. NOW!

I raised my volume.

He trembled, as he removed the 3 piece suit that he was wearing and hung it on the hangers I had put out for him on the table.

I could see the goosebumps on his neck, and I knew that he'd be my bitch by the time I'm done with him.

That's what he had asked for... To be humiliated... To be beaten... To be stripped of his self-respect.

But he'd smirked, and THAT was his error.

Not the smirk itself, but the delusion that he could top from the bottom and get away with it.

Not under my watch. He wasn't the first pup I was training afterall.

I sat in my chair, tapping my foot impatiently. I was wearing high heels that I so hate.

I was wearing them only to drive the fear of God in him when I would press the heel in his ass or just an inch away from।his cock and balls in the mattress on the floor. He would fear these heels then.

Fear, you see, is both a good early-stage teacher for entitled adult learners, and a powerful aphrodisiac. Just that, I prefer to teach rather than arouse.

I wore a floral long dress, simple cotton, every day prints.

On purpose.

This pup needed to learn that submission isn't about latex, leather, paraphernalia. No disputing the vibe they build. Not questioning the feel they give, the fantasies they arouse.

But, that submission is about your actions, your discovery, your journey at another person's feet.

The intensity of submission is not a function of the clothes I wear. It is about how I make them feel, what I CAN make them do, and yet I NEVER make them do. The power that I hold for them, and their trust that I won't abuse it.

He would learn, this cocky pup!

Just like I had learnt over years. I had learnt in my limited but not so limited experience as a Dominant that my larger purpose is to teach these boys submission, eventually at a level that borderlines surrender.

My purpose was not to fulfill their fantasies.

My purpose was not to give them another adrenaline rush.

My purpose was not to bind them, or get them।addicted to me.

My purpose was to free them, in their submission, in their bonds!

My purpose was to teach them - deeper nuances, emotional awareness, and comfort in discomfort.

He fidgeted as I pondered upon all this. I flicked my wrist and it had been just 30 seconds.

'Who's going to take off their underwear??? You need me to find you servants who will help you serve me, is that so?'

I swished my crop in the air.

He flinched.

He took off his underwear and held it in his hands awkwardly.

'Awww, poor mama's boy, needs a dutiful wife now to fold his boy panties and put them aside, hai na?'

He flinched again.

I hadn't raised my volume, or lowered my pitch. But my voice had dripped with sarcasm.

He dropped to his knees, head hanging in shame, as he whispered, 'I'm sorry miss, please forgive me'.

I continued to sit calmly in my chair, my expression unfathomable. My eyes trained on the top of his head, my wrist casually flicking the crop.

I could have smirked now.

But lessons are best taught through demonstration.

He will learn humility!

On his knees, he will learn so much more!

Asmi
22.7.24

Taming Him Part 1 - Enter!

He had asked me for a session, not the other way round.

He had agreed to pay for my time and energy.

He wanted to experience intensity.

He had been coached during multiple discussions on hard limits, soft limits, safe words, and safety precautions. Both him and mine.

We settled on pain and humiliation. We settled on CFNM.

He shared with me that his wife was going to deliver a baby a month later. I asked him if he really wanted to do this right now? I would have understood if he felt confused, reluctant, or even wanted to cancel.

He wanted to go on. He thanked me for my advice, but he would like to continue please, he said.

And there it was - this stupid, entitled smirk, that I wanted to wipe off his face.

He wasn't really a sub, he just fantasized about being one.

He was just a slut with some fetishes.

And that was fine with me.

But his smirk told me, he thought he could play me.

His smirk told me that he thought I couldn't see through him.

Oh, he would pay, and dearly so!

Literally. And then figuratively. And then some more.

He would be tamed.

Not broken, not damaged, but definitely tamed!

I would teach him.

Pain, humiliation, and..... Submission!

He received his instructions.

He bought and carried his toys.

He landed at my doorstep 10 minutes early.

I took him in and snapped my fingers.

Strip!

That was the moment he knew, he'd be tamed. Broken in. Like a horse, maybe an unruly dog, nothing but a beast in my collar.

Asmi
21.7.24