It was something about her. Her welcoming kiss was not as warm as he expected it to be. Her body stiffened when he tried to press her against him, as he always did. She pulled away from him when his hands moved down to cup her buttocks, as he liked to do. He felt a rejection he was not used to and knew there must be a reason for it.

With an indistinctly mumbled apology, she disappeared into the kitchen and he watched as she paced frantically back and forth. But it wasn’t the hectic pace of a housewife cooking and trying to keep an eye on several things at once. It was a restlessness that had another reason and he knew her well enough to know that something had happened that she didn’t want to tell him about. Something she knew she had to tell him and he would disapprove.

There were clear rules between them and she knew exactly what she would face if she broke any of them. Even when they had first met, he had made it clear to her that he was not a man like all the others. And that he had very old-fashioned ideas about the relationship between a man and a woman. The man has the task of leading his wife. He makes the decisions and is the master of the house in every respect. The woman should be clever, but above all beautiful. She was made to look after him and give him what every man expects from his wife. When he wanted it, how he wanted it and as often as he wanted it.

He had been very lucky to have come across her of all people. She came from a family that still upheld the age-old values of discipline and order. Influenced by a father who ran a strict regiment at home and made it clear to his daughters that they either obeyed him at his word or had to bear the consequences. She had obviously never been a girl who could hold her tongue. So she had often been punished, just as any naughty girl had been punished in previous generations.

He called her „girl“, although of course she was no longer a little girl and was already on the cusp of her third decade. But she still had the deeply rooted obedience that she had been taught at an early age. This included the conviction that a man was in charge, any man. And that a woman was born to satisfy her man and give him what nature had given her, exactly what a man desires and can never get enough of.

One unbreakable rule was that there could be no secrets between them. Whatever had happened, he would insist that she told him. And if she refused, he would make sure she did. He loved her and he knew she was anything but a silly little girl. But he also knew that she was a woman whose mind and body demanded to be chastised and punished whenever she gave cause.

Every Friday evening was the moment of reckoning and he expected her to tell him everything that had happened during the week. Especially all the little sins and rule violations that a woman inevitably commits. Whenever she feels unobserved and believes she can take small liberties. Or even when she is tempted by the devil of rebellion to do something that is actually forbidden. He loved this little ritual, because it was a moment that created clarity and removed all the little secrets that a woman shouldn’t have in front of her husband.

There were other rituals that structured her life and made it clear time and again that men and women were not the same and, above all, not equal. These included the regular check-up of her physical condition, which took place every Saturday morning. She was a slim woman with narrow hips and long hair. And he insisted that she kept her body in a condition that pleased his eye and excited his senses for as long as possible. That required regular exercise. And that required discipline in her daily diet. Whether she had fulfilled both tasks would be ruthlessly revealed when she stepped onto the scales under my gaze. The number that then appeared on the display decided whether she was kissed and praised. Or whether she had to go to the bedroom, where she had to present herself, naked as she was anyway, for her due punishment.

Another ritual was what she was about to experience. He left her in the kitchen, took off the business suit he had worn today to meet a client for a chat and replaced it with more comfortable casual clothes. And he picked up a simple, black leather collar. He approached her with it while she was busy setting the table for dinner. Wordlessly, he stepped behind her. With practiced movements, he put the shiny black collar on her and fastened it around her neck. He carefully placed the accompanying leash over the back of one of the chairs that lined the large table.

She looked at him in silence. Only for a brief moment, but long enough to tell him everything he wanted to know. Because her eyes spoke a clear language and revealed more than she probably wanted to. He saw the uncertainty that was evident from the fact that she couldn’t hold his eye contact. He recognized the feelings of guilt that always revealed themselves when her gaze lowered and her body radiated the first signs of insecurity. She knew, of course, what it meant when the collar was put on her. It was a warning. An unspoken warning and a request to do everything possible now to avoid further action.

Her greeting earlier had been simply disrespectful. He expected his wife to welcome him warmly after he had been traveling for a while and returned to her safely. And he did not tolerate her evading his advances when he felt like touching her. He had been away from her for several days and would certainly use her tonight as a man uses a woman. But first she would have to confess to him what had happened and what she was still trying to hide.

The dinner together was largely silent. The few words they exchanged felt almost formal. It was almost like a meal between business partners who didn’t really know each other but had come together to talk about common goals. It wasn’t the intimate moment of two people who had been apart for a while and were now happy to be together again. It was a situation that was crying out to be ended.

And he knew that he was the one who had to end it. He waited until after the evening meal. Waited until she had blown out the cozy, flickering candle and cleared the table. Waited until she unsteadily re-entered the room and sat down on the cozy corner of the sofa far away from him. Waited until she opened up to tell him what had happened.

But she didn’t do it of her own accord. She continued to remain silent and he had to forcefully ask her to finally come out and tell him why she had remained so silent so far, why she had behaved so dismissively and what was going on inside her.

His girl had an interesting job when he met her and it was important to him that she continued to work in it. After all, there was nothing worse than an idle woman who spent her whole life just looking after her beauty, meeting friends and going shopping. A woman like that atrophies over time. Her spirit is no longer nourished and at some point she can only talk about the banalities of her empty life. Because we all need constant stimulation to stay mentally active. And a woman is the most boring being on earth if you can’t exchange thoughts with her because there are no more thoughts for her to exchange.

Yes, he was the man and she was the woman. The roles were clearly divided and he had rights that she simply didn’t have. But he didn’t want a little mouse that he could control and manipulate as he saw fit. He wanted an intelligent woman who was worth talking to. But he also wanted her to be accountable to him for everything she did. And he took the right to determine the rules she had to follow and to reprimand her if she did not. Because where there is no strong man in charge, constant conflict is inevitable. And where the man has no power to exercise over her, the woman lacks the guidance that is good for her soul and allows her femininity to blossom.

So he exercised his male right and demanded justification from her. She was not authorized to withhold things from him that should not be between them. And she owed him an explanation for her improper behavior, which had disrupted their harmonious coexistence and angered him.

The result revealed an everyday occurrence that was anything but a catastrophe, but would have consequences nonetheless. Consequences that she was obviously afraid of, because misconduct entailed punishment and punishment would be painful. But wrongdoing had to be confessed, that was the rule between them, and it was part of being a humble woman to admit her mistakes so that they could be atoned for and rectified.

She had used his car to go shopping. That wasn’t a bad thing, because she had his permission to do so. But she had been careless and damaged it when parking. That wasn’t really a disaster either, because sheet metal can be repaired and there are far more important things than a car. But it was carelessness and it had to be punished. She knew that. That was also the reason why she had been dreading his return instead of looking forward to it. It had caused her inner turmoil, which was characterized by fear and which she naturally couldn’t hide. After all, his girl was used to working hard to meet the high standards that had been set for her throughout her life. From an early age, she had lived in the knowledge that mistakes were not tolerated and that a woman had to live with being called to account for them by a man.

He knew she needed firm guidance and it had always been a pleasure for him to give her just that. He knew that he had to redeem her from her guilt in order to restore her mental balance. He knew what was due now.

He picked up the leash that was still hanging over the back of the chair like a silent warning. He went to her, bent down and hooked the chrome snap hook into the eye of her collar. It was only a soft click, but it was the unmistakable signal that did not bode well for her. He had warned her and she should have known that it was her duty to tell him about the incident. But she had not done so of her own accord. So now came the second part of the ritual.

He asked her to stand up. Like taking a dog for a walk, he took her by the leash and forced her to follow him. He was her master and nothing could symbolize this fact better than this ritual of submission. She was a woman who demanded to be reprimanded and was on her way to being punished. He demonstrated his dominant position and she humbled herself and followed him without any sign of resistance.

Normally, he would send her to the bathroom and order her to get ready. Whether a punishment was due or he wanted to use her, the process was the same. She had to clean herself carefully and take all precautions so that he could enjoy or punish her body without restriction. And she had to wait for him in the bedroom until he was ready to take care of her.

But this time he had decided differently. That evening, he wanted to lend a hand himself. He knew that she had made herself ready for his arrival. She always did, because it was part of her duties as a devoted wife to be ready for her master so that he could dispose of her as he wished.

Once in the bedroom, he locked the door. He knew that she would make no attempt to run away. But it was a symbolic act that was important to him. She was now a prisoner. She was now alone in the room with him and knew that she was completely at his mercy. He positioned himself behind her. She was wearing that simple black dress again, the one he loved to see her in. He reached for the zipper and pulled it down with a soft chirping sound. It ended just before the point where her spine bent slightly backwards and the noticeable swelling of her buttocks began. He slipped the flowing soft fabric over her shoulders and she willingly helped him to remove the dress and pull it off her body.

Then he stepped very close to her. So close that she could feel his breath. He put her long, blonde hair to one side and kissed her where her neck joined her shoulders. He felt her body respond and he whispered to her to undress completely.

Her skin had an even, healthy tone and a few freckles gave her an unmistakable hint of naturalness. Her breasts were soft and exactly the right size for his palms. Her hips were narrow and her buttocks were correspondingly small. She was a sight of aesthetic beauty that never failed to please his eye.

She followed his instructions and first took off her plain black bra and then the matching panties, which actually only consisted of a few strings and a tiny patch of fabric. He asked her to turn around and look him in the eye. She obeyed and patiently listened to the sermon that was due at this point. She acknowledged his words with a politely submissive „yes, my master“, as they had agreed that she would address him as master whenever she was being punished and reprimanded.

He gave her a rough slap on the bottom and asked her to take her place on the bed. She knew what posture he wanted to see her in. So she assumed a kneeling position and presented herself to him in the way a woman presents herself to her husband so that he can make unrestricted use of what nature intended for his pleasure. He was a man who appreciated the entire spectrum of lovemaking. But he was still most pleased by the sight of a woman kneeling submissively before him with her head buried in the pillow and her backside forming the highest point of her body. It is the moment when her buttocks open and she makes it clear to her lover in an almost obscene way that she has two orifices to offer him, between which he can choose at will. And it is the moment when every man appreciates when the woman of his desire is carefully stripped of all hair to present him with the unveiled sight that no man can resist.

But at that moment, he was not her lover. He was her educator. He was the master of her soul and the disciplinarian of her body. He had the task of punishing her to atone for her behavior and to make her aware of the full power that nature had given him.

He pushed aside the mirrored sliding doors of the wall-filling closet, in which he only occupied a modest corner for his well-organized wardrobe, while she could live out her femininity and keep a wealth of clothes that would probably last three women’s lives. He pulled out the drawer in which he kept his punishment utensils and chose the small, seven-tailed cat.

She had not committed any offense for which she really needed to be severely punished. But of course he wanted to hurt her, because she had to realize that she had broken a rule. And she had to learn that nothing had changed in her life since her childhood: misbehavior is punished. And punishment has to hurt in order to have an effect and trigger change.

So he took aim at his wife’s obediently presented buttocks and struck. Seven narrow leather straps cut through the air to land on her right flank with an ominous sound. Seven welts lit up and announced that once again a woman had to atone for her sins. A barely suppressed scream indicated that the pain was taking effect. Her exposed bottom reared up immediately, but she knew that she was not allowed to avoid the well-deserved blows. So she mustered all her willpower to control herself and return to the disciplined posture expected of her before the next blow arrived.

A multi-strap whip is by no means the worst of the punishment instruments. Part of the way it works is that the force of the blow is distributed over several leather straps and is therefore spread over a wide area of skin. This makes the punishment bearable and only very delicate girls are overwhelmed by it. But his girl was certainly not one of them and so he punished her thoroughly without paying attention to her whining and counted up the number of strokes he had planned to give her. By the end, her buttocks and thighs were a grid of criss-crossing welts and he knew she was feeling the heat of the pain.

He let go of her and put the instrument of chastisement back in its place.

It was now eight o’clock in the evening. He instructed her to think about her misdemeanor and to stay out of his sight for the rest of the evening. She had to be ready for him at ten o’clock sharp, he instructed her, so that he could take what was due to him. She knelt humbly before him and thanked him with a polite „Thank you, my lord, for rebuking me.“ Satisfied, he left the room and treated himself to an old single malt while the excitement in his body gradually subsided and was replaced by the anticipation of an intense night of lovemaking.