Ive known Alexander since my school days. I also knew his views and knew that his daughters were growing up under a strict regime. Strictly speaking, they were not his own daughters, but three orphan girls from Bulgaria who had been adopted by his very socially-minded wife. They came from what seemed to be a pretty bad orphanage, where beatings were apparently the only affection they had ever received. They were brought up strictly by Alexander and his wife. But they lived in conditions that must have seemed like paradise to them.

The eldest of them was called Joana and was a lanky, slim girl with long legs that almost reached my chin.

Like Alexander, I was now in my fifth decade of life. She had just celebrated her sixteenth birthday a few weeks ago and was therefore at the age at which a girl was allowed to marry in this country – provided her legal guardians agreed and the authorities didn’t interfere. There was a case worker at the youth welfare office who looked quite grim when she saw that a very young girl like Joana was about to marry a grown man like me. But at sixteen, she was no longer considered a child and as she stated during questioning that she was acting of her own free will, there was probably no formal reason to deny us the wedding.

Alexander’s wife was a very loving person and devotedly looked after the girls entrusted to her care. Alexander, on the other hand, enjoyed the role of the authoritarian father and, after some initial doubts, seemed to have taken a liking to the situation. The older the teenagers got, the more he seemed to feel obliged to take a hand and intervene in their upbringing.

 „They are used to being spanked and I have the impression that this is the only language they really understand,“ he said with conviction and he demonstrated to me what this looked like in practice. He actually only spoke to the girls in a commanding tone and their behavior clearly showed that they had respect, perhaps even fear, of him. During a confidential conversation in his office, I was able to see why this was the case. Hanging on the inside of a cupboard door was a whole series of corporal punishment devices, the kind that were probably found in every house in the past, but which now bore witness to the very special ambitions of the master of the house.

„I have the classic leather belt in three lengths and widths,“ he explained to me, trying to maintain a matter-of-fact tone. „A proper cane is also a must, of course, because I’ve heard that the three of them have been used to it since childhood.“ He let the undoubtedly painful wood glide sensually through his fingers. „For the really bad offenses, however, I have the strap whip. It creates a fire that remains visible for a long time and sticks in the memory even longer. There’s no more effective way to teach a girl what to do and what not to do.“

I learned from Alexander that I was probably not the first man in Joana’s life. But when it had come out not so long ago that she was secretly seeing a school friend, she had not only received the spanking of her life. Her foster father had also taken her out of school immediately so that she was no longer exposed to temptation. He had also severely restricted her freedom of movement from that time onwards and made sure that she was never allowed to leave the house unaccompanied again.

It was probably as a result of this development that he remembered me again and thought of the old days when we had done some wild things. He knew my preference for young, very young women and that was probably what gave him the idea of doing something good for his old friend. It obviously seemed appealing to him to set me up with the girl in heat, who was obviously itching between her legs and desperately needed a responsible man to look after her.

I still remember our graduation party very well. Back then, we had organized a huge beach party and invited all the young girls the school had to offer. The secret aim was to get as many of them as drunk as possible so that we could have an easy time with them in the dunes afterwards. The guys knew exactly what they were doing and made do with non-alcoholic beer all evening, while the girls‘ beer was also spiked with Korn.

I can’t remember how many of them came to the next morning hungover, only to realize shamefacedly that they had probably had a lot of sex, but couldn’t remember who and how many of the numerous guys they had hooked up with. There was even a rumor going around that one or two of the reckless brats had lost their virginity that very night. One even got pregnant and had no idea who she had to thank for her maternal bliss.

But all this was part of the sins of youth and formed the shared memories of two men who had never completely lost touch with each other. As an orphan, Joana had never known anything like family life and probably thought it was a kind of German custom that the father chose his daughter’s husband and she had to comply. As a result, she didn’t put up any noticeable resistance and I changed completely unexpectedly at an advanced age from a seemingly convinced bachelor to a solid husband.

The wedding venue was a luxury country hotel. The bridal suite had been set up in the former servants‘ quarters, where the two of us were all to ourselves and I could really enjoy my very young wife. I knew that I probably wasn’t her dream man. But my time of wild whoring was over and I wanted her to feel comfortable with me. I wanted her to feel that she had a man in me who knew how to take her and make her feel protected and secure in every way.

Joana was a very petite girl. She was tall and I hardly had to lower my head to look her in the eye. But her exceptionally slender build made everything about her seem small and girlish in a lovely way. Her breasts didn’t really need a bra. They were little more than small bumps with dark nipples that hardened at the slightest touch and then unmistakably revealed her state of arousal. Her legs had something gazelle-like about them. They were thin and long and merged into two pretty buttocks that were framed by narrow hips. When she was naked, she couldn’t help but shamelessly show off her pussy, as there was always a gap between her legs, the upper end of which was formed by two bulging labia.

As it turned out, Jessica’s mother had done a great job preparing her daughter for the experience of her first sexual encounter. At my special request, the girl was clean-shaven and presented herself to me in a transparent negligee, which could really only be regarded as a piece of clothing in a symbolic sense. But her behavior could not hide the fact that her body was gripped by a very special restlessness.

I counteracted this by gently embracing her and taking away this mixture of fear and expectation, which is difficult to describe, with countless little kisses. My hands slipped unnoticed under the nothingness of a nightgown and caressed the shapely mounds of her buttocks with relish. I knew that it was this part of her body in particular that would occupy my imagination in the future. It was the real focal point of her anatomy that had always attracted my gaze. It would be lovingly caressed by me again and again. But it would also feel my blows and turn deep red while my young wife atoned for some offense.

I could feel her body reactions gradually changing. Both of her buds changed to hard and pressed demandingly through the cleverly semi-transparent fabric of her only piece of clothing. Her breathing became shallower and a firm grip between her legs told me that the first traces of a telltale dampness had already formed there, an unmistakable sign that her body was preparing for my penetration. An imperceptible tremor gripped her skin as she gradually gave up her initial shy reticence and snuggled up to me.

I was only wearing a large, dark blue bath towel that I had wrapped around my hips and tied loosely in a makeshift knot. At that moment, it gave up its last hold and slipped unhindered to the floor. My cock was suddenly freed from its sheathing and shot upwards unhindered. She registered it with an embarrassed smile, hesitated for a while and then, with a lascivious smile on her lips, proceeded to remove her probably sinfully expensive negligee, which she had obviously chosen just for this moment, from her shoulders. What was supposed to happen happened and the wafer-thin nothingness slid to the floor, where it lost its function and remained as a useless piece of fabric.

I recognized a provocatively mischievous look in her eyes, which gradually gave way to her previously prevailing shyness as she presented herself to me in an all-revealing nakedness. I had taken a step back to take a pleasurable look at her flawless body as I examined the contours of her backside in the mirrored door of a floor-to-ceiling wall unit. She had formed a hollow back so that the curves of her bottom were particularly prominent. At the same time, her nipples stood out clearly and proudly proclaimed that the woman was aroused and ready to be made a woman by me.

She was of course aware of her effect on me and seemed to be enjoying the moment. The fear of the unknown seemed to have completely dissipated by now, while she was obviously losing any shyness about giving way to her all-consuming desire and opening up to me. I assumed that she probably already remembered the one or other tentative kiss that had caused her first wet panties. Perhaps her labia had even felt curious male fingers fumbling. But this was her first encounter with a full-grown man whose demanding erect member left no doubt as to what he had in mind for her.

Girls are usually far more afraid of what will happen the first time than is actually justified. Most virgin brides hardly feel the moment of their defloration at all. Partly because arousal has already taken possession of them at this moment and their insides are so slippery and wet that a stiff cock practically no longer perceives any resistance. Or because the much overrated hymen is in reality only present in a hint and doesn’t actually need to be broken to turn the girl into a woman. The latter was probably also the case with Jessica, as it turned out after the act that she showed virtually no reaction apart from a barely perceptible bleed.

But her desire for my cock was stronger than I had expected. There was hardly any foreplay. She instinctively spread her legs as wide as she could to close them even tighter around my lower body as soon as I had penetrated her. Her desire was insatiable in a way that I had never expected from a girl who had never felt a cock inside her. Her orgasm was like an explosion and felt like a violent release after an endless period of waiting and anticipation.

I wondered how many times this sex-addicted beast had worked on herself at night with her own fingers to create this overwhelming feeling that the female part of humanity would never get rid of.

Joana’s first sex was actually as ordinary and uncreative as sex can be. But it revealed without a doubt what desire was in this woman, who was just waiting to be aroused and satisfied again and again. No doubt, this was a young woman who had to be restrained. A woman who undoubtedly needed strict guidance and demanded to be kept in line by a firm male hand.

Our honeymoon was a constant interplay between shared meals with long conversations, entertaining excursions to pass the time and vigorous sex in the morning, in the evening and on various occasions in between. A man in his prime and a young woman hungry for life experienced carefree moments detached from time and space. Jessica had no idea that my luggage contained an artfully crafted leather slapper that was designed solely for her round buttocks and firm thighs. I had bought it from a small manufacturer in Lithuania, where the men obviously still knew what a rebellious young woman needed from time to time.

But even honeymoons come to an end at some point and Jessica soon found herself in a prestigious suburban house with a well-tended garden, which was to be her place of work for the rest of her life. It was a foregone conclusion that my wife would not pursue her own work, even if no one had asked her about it. She didn’t yet realize that her whole life would revolve around me, my wishes and needs and occasionally my guests, but I had already decided that for her too. After all, I was the man and therefore the one who made the decisions here. She, on the other hand, was the woman and therefore the servant at my side who had to obey. In this respect, I was very traditional and represented points of view that were completely normal three generations ago, but now met with indignant reactions.

But Joana was anything but indignant. She had never experienced anything other than doing what she was told and feeling the consequences if she did not. And she had only ever known a man as a father, who was seen as the absolute master of the house and was prepared to crack down if there was reason to do so. That actually made her a dream woman. At least for a man like me, who hated feminism but really appreciated a feminine woman.

A woman needs male leadership. This has been proven over several thousand years of human history and is becoming increasingly clear in our oh-so-emancipated world. There are even men like my old school friend who are firmly convinced that a woman actually has the disposition of a little girl throughout her life and should therefore be treated as such. And you praise a little girl and pat her tenderly on the head when she has been good and obedient. But you also strip her naked and chastise her if she is stubborn. Above all, however, you tell a girl what to do and what not to do, what is allowed and what is forbidden. In other words, you lay down rules and set clear boundaries.

That’s what it was all about one evening when I took Joana to talk to her about the rules she had to live by in the future. Rules that I had already set out in writing before we got married and that I sent to her by email – with the instruction to read them carefully and prepare for our conversation.

There were actually no unusual rules involved. She was actually familiar with most of them, as she had already had to live by them under her father’s rule. For example, the fact that a daughter, and now a wife, had to ask her master’s permission when she left the house. And that she had to stick to certain times when she had to be back. A daughter’s freedoms are limited and determined by her father. In the same sense, a wife’s life is subject to the limits imposed on her by her lord and husband.

I had nothing against her occasionally meeting up with friends. But I had secretly watched her because I wanted to know what kind of company she was keeping. And I wanted to avoid her having the opportunity to meet up with men on her free evenings. Above all, however, I reserved the right to determine exactly when she had to be home again. I was convinced that a woman had to be kept on a leash, at least symbolically, and I agreed with her stepfather on this. This leash should be long enough to at least give him the illusion of being able to move freely. Because even if it was only a symbolic leash, a responsible master will decide, depending on the situation, whether he thinks it is better to keep his female on a short leash or whether he should allow her certain freedoms.

But both small children and young women tend to test their limits and push the boundaries of personal freedom in their favor. Joana was no exception and forced me to take countermeasures and tighten her leash so that she felt that there was a master above her who had certain rights.

The first incident happened a good four weeks after our honeymoon. We were still making love at least once a day and I had now introduced her to all the variations of lovemaking I could think of. She now knew what it was like to get a full load in her mouth, but I usually just let her suck me off as a prelude and withdrew my cock as soon as I threatened to come. I preferred to take her from behind and loved to grab her firmly by the hips and let her feel the full hardness of my erection while I pumped her for what seemed like an eternity. She always came to orgasm and it was always an experience to see how she completely lost control of herself and pressed herself violently against me to really become one with me.

You can see it in a woman’s face when she gets fucked regularly. Joana also moved through life visibly carefree and light-footed, wearing this relaxed expression of inner contentment. She therefore didn’t mind limiting her life to making me feel good, and for a long time it seemed as if she was fully satisfied with this primal feminine task. But marriage is not just about togetherness. Sooner or later, influences from outside enter the relationship and a man has to be careful not to lose control over his wife.

„You’ll be home by ten,“ were my words, which resonated with her as the front door slammed shut behind her.

So far we had led a fairly problem-free life. She had stuck to the written rules and had never given me any reason to reprimand her, not even with harsh words. Until that girls‘ evening, the end of which prompted me to take firm action and let her feel her limits.

It started when she didn’t come home at ten, but almost two hours later. At this point, my annoyance was already at its peak. After just an hour’s delay, I had already put away the leather slapper that had been lying unused in the bedside drawer. Breaking a clear order had to be punished, there was no question about it. As the clock gradually approached midnight, I finally replaced the slapper with the flogger. The awe-inspiring instrument with twelve sturdy leather straps hung on the inside of a bedroom door and was also more than ready for its first use.

She looked guilty when she finally got home. A short-sighted teenager who had probably only realized on the way home that she had got herself into a serious problem. But women find it difficult to simply admit mistakes and ask for forgiveness. Joana also preferred to be confrontational. Ten o’clock was simply too early, she said. Her friends had said the same. Besides, she was a grown woman and didn’t need to be told when to stay out and for how long. After all, we were living in the 21st century. I assumed it was the alcohol that had made her talk to me like that. The alcohol and the bad influence.

I didn’t get involved in this discussion. I simply waited patiently until she had shot her powder and her unbridled torrent of words gradually dried up. After all, I had all the time in the world. And I had a firm plan that I certainly wouldn’t deviate from.

When she finally fell silent, I said curtly, „Come into the living room!“

My more than composed reaction seemed to have confused her. A hint of uncertainty flitted across her features. If she were a dog, she would probably turn tail right now. She seemed to realize that she was facing a mighty problem. With a dejected posture, she walked ahead of me into the living room. As always, her skirt was cut close to her skin and forbiddingly short.

„Take your skirt off!“ I ordered her. She immediately spotted the flogger, which was clearly lying on the coffee table, and remained in a kind of state of shock. I picked it up and stood in front of her. When nothing happened for a while, I pulled it out. Twelve narrow leather straps hissed through the air and wrapped themselves around her thighs with an unpleasant noise, causing her to let out a shrill cry. It was her own fault that her skirt barely covered her bottom. Now her thighs were adorned with several glowing red welts and she danced in place to deal with the pain.

„You should have listened to me. Now you’re going to take all your clothes off!“ I commented on the situation in a laconic tone.

Hesitantly, but with astonishing obedience, she complied with my request. First she peeled down her skirt, which fit like a second skin. Then came the blouse and bra, followed by her almost invisibly transparent stockings and finally the plain black panties. She stood naked in front of me and looked at me silently pleadingly. She knew exactly that she would be punished. But she still seemed to have a spark of hope that I would spare her this fate once again. But I refused to relent. Instead, I determinedly gave her another blow to make her realize that I meant business and that no mercy was to be expected from me.

„Bend over the backrest,“ was my command and I watched patiently as Joana did what she had probably done countless times before. She stepped behind one of the black leather armchairs, leaned forward and dropped headfirst into the backrest. Her two buttocks were now raised provocatively in the air and formed the highest point of her body. They gaped obscenely apart and I had an unobstructed view of her entire womanhood from the slightly unfolded labia to the tightly closed anus rosette.

She already knew what the flogger, which had left clear marks on her thighs, felt like. So she clutched the armrests of the armchair with both hands and awaited the inevitable.

I had chosen the flogger carefully and had my wife’s bottom in mind. Although it was rather small to match her overall slender build, it still appealed with its distinctly feminine shape. His flesh was firm and hardly vibrated even when he moved vigorously. I had therefore opted for a flogger, which was not a BDSM accessory with a rather playful effect, but a serious whip that caused pain and left marks. It consisted of twelve hard, sharp-edged leather straps that no woman could endure without reacting violently.

I spared myself any rebuking comments, because Joana knew exactly what she was being punished for. So I gave her a moment to collect herself and prepare for the painful experience. Then I struck, mercilessly and with full force.

When pulled hard, a flogger like this creates an extensive fire on the skin that even a disciplined woman can hardly bear without wriggling and screaming. Joana had been used to spankings since childhood, but to my knowledge she had never felt a flogger before. The distributed force of twelve leather straps must therefore have acted like a huge flash of fire on her and barely a second of shock passed when her lips opened and a shrill scream filled the room. Her bottom shot up and her legs went into a wild wriggle. She obviously had to use all her willpower not to jump out of the chair immediately. Another woman would probably have spontaneously left her position at that moment and danced wildly around the room. But Joana knew that this would be interpreted as gross disobedience and would automatically result in a doubling of the punishment. So she mustered all her willpower and ten white fingernails clawed into the back of the chair.

When her buttocks began to take on a dark red color, I had already struck the second blow and reignited the pain-driven reaction of the young body. The screeching became a continuous sound and changed a few strokes later to a heart wrenching

 Howling, while her once seductive buttocks swelled up and the individual welts merged into a closed red surface.

It was a fierce prelude to the painful aspect of Joana’s fierce life as a wife, which from then on would be a normal part of our relationship. A husband punished his wife as any woman who disobeyed his orders had been punished in the past. A man of the house exercised his right to maintain law and order and to show his wife that his rules applied in his house and that he could expect absolute obedience.

I was determined not to show any weakness and to give her exactly the number of blows I had planned. So I didn’t allow myself to feel sorry for her and delivered one blow after the other in a steady rhythm, even though it was obvious how she was suffering.

As the punishment drew to a close, I had a diabolical thought that I didn’t want to deny myself. I interrupted my previously steady cascade of blows, which my Joana was now enduring, howling again and again. Then I stood in front of the seat of the armchair so that I had her entire back in front of me. I took another swing and aimed the flogger so that its vicious straps followed the exact line of her spine. The fact that the multiple lashes reached the exact spot where her buttocks parted was part of my intention. The supple yet hard leather not only cut mercilessly into her butt crack. It also reached the folds of her cunt, including the small button of her clitoris, causing pain that obviously surpassed anything she had experienced before.

I repeated this process twice more, completing the total number of twenty-four strokes I had set myself.

The whimpering of the maltreated woman changed once more into a series of particularly shrill screams before I put the whip down and considered the punishment finished.

Joana slid unsteadily into the armchair, her body writhing in pain as a soft whimper escaped from her throat.

My gaze rested for a while longer on the thoroughly reprimanded woman, whose thoughts must now be wavering somewhere between hatred and remorse, while her body was busy coping with the omnipresent fire that was heating her skin. I knew that sooner or later this heat would penetrate the depths of her ego, where after a while the pain that currently dominated everything would turn into an animalistic lust that no one could explain.

So my last words were: „Get ready for me. I’ll see you in bed later.“

With that, I grabbed the flogger, which had clearly done an excellent job, and left the room. My anger had now given way to deep satisfaction and, to my surprise, I felt my member in my pants showing clear signs of arousal.

Relationships between men and women are more complex than you might think.