I look out over the crowd of nearly 300 people gathered at the Desmond Inn to hear my speech. I see many other successful business people dressed in custom tailored suits and dresses. Many have flown into Albany just to hear my presentation this afternoon. I am honored, for these leaders have recognized me as the dominant authority in my field.

As the chairman's voice drones on and on reading my professional credentials and accomplishments, my mind begins to wander. I think to myself, “if they only knew!”

I try not to squirm too much in my chair, as all of those eyes stare at me with respect and admiration. But, it is very difficult. Thank heaven for the thick, imported material in my suit pants. For under it, my ass is on fire!

That morning, six hours before my arrival at the Desmond, my Mistress had given me an excruciatingly hard caning before she left for work. She had tied me tightly over a straight-backed dining-room chair, not unlike the one in which I now sat. She not only tied my hands, feet, and knees tightly to the chair, but also buckled a thick leather belt over the small of my naked back and around the spindles on the back of the chair. This had the effect of arching my back, tightly stretching my naked buttocks. I could hardly move a muscle, and my ass was open and very vulnerable.

My Mistress, who is also my wife, stood before me in a sheer black teddy. Black fish-net stockings were attached to her garment with garters, leaving the tops of her thighs enticingly naked. Looking back through my legs I could see small curls of hair extending beyond the snap-crotch of her lingerie, marking the hidden delights where I had spent so many hours in worship. As she walked across the room to take from the wall a long, flexible rattan cane, I glimpsed her gorgeous ass through the sheer black material. I had immediately become erect at the sight of the place where I had shed so many tears in the past and would emit so many more in the years to come.

Her first stroke of the 36" long, flexible 1/4" cane branded a streak of fire across the summit of my cheeks. The initial impact was very painful, but I had braced myself for the after-burn which I knew I would experience about ten seconds later. The burning increased geometrically as I felt the deep welt swell up. She had then waited about twenty seconds for the pain to maximize before her second hard stroke. The cane had landed exactly into the fold of skin that separated my ass from my thighs, and its thin, flexible tip had snapped into my right flank as if it had been a bullet. I had cried out in pain, and looking back saw that the material between her legs was dampening with her lubrication.

Her first two strokes had marked for her the upper and lower limits of the strokes to follow. The next ten had filled in that space with deep, painful welts which would make it very painful to sit for the next few days.

After the twelfth burning stroke of the cane, she paused and went into the other room. When she returned, I saw that she was carrying an enema bulb with a long, thick nozzle. Placing it on the table next to the chair on which I was tied, I saw her walk into the kitchen. I could hear the sound of the freezer door opening, then the sound of ice cubes being removed from the bin and placed into a large Tupperware bowl. My ears then detected the sound of the water running in the bathroom sink, and bottles in the medicine cabinet being rattled around.

When she returned to the dining-room, she was carrying a large bowl of ice-water, a towel, and a bottle of Vicks Vapo-Rub. On her hands I noticed that she was wearing latex gloves. As she put the equipment down on the table, she began tracing the welts on my very sore ass with her finger. She told me that she was going to make me take many enemas, and that she knew that the ice-water would cause a lot of cramping. She said that I was not to complain even once, and that she would untie me when she was good and ready. "Don't you want to really suffer for me," she asked? "I want to see how much you can take, and I am getting really turned on by just thinking about it." "Yes Mistress," I mumbled through my tears.

As she inserted a Vicks-lubricated finger into my sensitive anus, she unsnapped the crotch of her teddy with her other hand and began to lightly stimulate her glistening genitals. The Vicks began to irritate the nerves inside of me. I felt her add another finger, and begin to push them slowly in and out. She kept doing this for several minutes. As the tips of her fingers massaged my prostate I had to concentrate to hold myself back from cuming.

She then took her other hand away from her pussy and picked up the enema bulb. Placing it into the bowl of ice water she squeezed it and let go. Then she took the syringe out of the water, held it upside down, and squeezed the air out of it. Still squeezing it, she placed it back in the bowl and let the bulb suck more of the water in until it was very full. Finally removing both fingers of her other hand from my rectum, I felt her replace them with the hard, thick, large nozzle. I heard her say, "Relax and prepare yourself slave. I am going to invade your body with an ice-cold enema, and you are going to just submissively lie there and take it." There was a long pause, as my mind prepared for the ordeal. My fear mounted as I waited, for I know how much she likes to torture me this way. Suddenly, with one hard, fast squeeze of the bulb, I felt the very cold water shoot into my body under great pressure. My anus tightened around the nozzle as I struggled to hold it.

After a couple of minutes I felt the nozzle withdrawn, and my muscles reflexively clamped to hold in the churning ice water. Looking up, I saw her gazing into my eyes to observe the pain and humiliation there as she refilled the bulb and placed it on the table. She left me for a minute and went into the other room. When she returned she was holding a very heavy leather thong whip with a thick black handle and 1/4" lashes about 14" long.

Over the course of the next half hour she had alternated snapping the tips of the thongs into the valley of my vulnerable ass with the insertion of additional enemas. My position made me unable to protect my ass from either of these invasions, and I had cried out many times in my pain, humiliation, and sexual stimulation. My cries caused her to rub and stimulate her genitals as she let her strength and her dominance flow. Sometimes she stopped, picked up the cane, and gave me hard diagonal strokes across the other welts. This caused me to jump within the limits of my restraints, causing waves of pain in the fluid inside of me. Submissively, I just lay there and took it, silently praying for it to be over.

When she had finally released my bonds, I limped to the bathroom and relieved the incredible pressure. I then shaved and showered, and checked out the welts in the full-length mirror there. I knew that my suffering from this short session would last for several days.

Back in our bedroom, she told me that I would not be allowed any sexual relief until I returned from my speech at dinner-time. Placing tight clamps on each of my nipples, she then made me serve her with my lips and tongue until she had experienced several screaming orgasms in a row.

My mind quickly returned to the present as I heard the chairman say, "And now, I give you our featured speaker for this afternoon . . ." As I rise to go to the podium, I wonder if anyone can notice the raging erection pressing against the pants of my suit. In the next couple of hours I will be dominant, forceful, professional, and in control of this group. When they leave here they will be very respectful and impressed with my forceful presentation. I wonder how many women will sexually fantasize about what it would be like to sexually submit to me. And, how many men will think, "Gee, this guy probably has women falling all over themselves to get him to hold them down and screw their brains out." If they only knew!