A Doctor's Story. I clearly remember the first time he sat in front of me. His eyes shiny with unshed tears, his hands trembling. His story about regular beatings from his wife, who was also my patient, was shocking. And curiously exciting. Whilst examining his back for signs of bruising and lacerations I found myself prompting him for details. How she hurt him, at what time of day, what they both wore. His reactions, her reactions. Suddenly sickened by my own vicarious enjoyment of his plight and by his pathetic whinging - I sent him away. It was clear that abuse of some kind had taken place - but I didn't, couldn't take it seriously. During the next few weeks I found it difficult to get the man, and his bullying wife, out of my mind. I found it difficult to comprehend woman-on-man violence. So, when he called again to show me whip-marks that had broken skin, I was shocked and aroused. I treated him and suggested I call and speak with her. He was terrified. He begged me not to and I was impressed with the strength of her hold over him. I regret to say I did in fact visit the woman. Although clearly an athletic and strong woman there was nothing to indicate that she was a sadist. When I said I wanted to talk about her husband she shrugged. 'I knew he'd tell someone.' I was disturbed by the casualness of her admission. 'Did you really use a whip?' She glanced at me with a sly expression, perhaps something in my voice betrayed my excitement. 'Would you like to see it?' She said conspiratorially. I wanted to tell her how shocked I was - and how wrong she was to treat her husband in this way. But I didn't. Instead I followed her to what can only be described as a dungeon. A small cramped cellar fitted with bizarre frames of cold steel. Two whips - real heavyweight leather affairs - hung from the cold brick wall. I felt chilled. She handed me one vicious-looking black whip. It felt heavy in my hand. I allowed it unfurl, to drop to its full length. My mouth became dry, my breathing laboured. 'I tie him to this.' She said indicating a square frame adorned with steel handcuffs. 'Why?' I said, 'I mean why does he let you?' Her smile was pure malice. 'By the time I started using the whip it was far too late for him to resist me. I've been taming him and training him since the day we met.' I ran my hot hand along the cold steel of the metal frame. I imagined having a man helpless before me, with a whip in my hand. 'You start with a lot of verbal abuse, then you slap them around a little.' I felt stirred by her words. And she knew it! 'Didn't he even try to stop you?' I wanted to know. 'Of course. He ran from the house once.' She laughed. I followed him to the pub. I stood next to him, all his friends were nearby. I whispered in his ear. I told him he could come home and accept his punishment in the privacy of our bedroom or he could take his medicine in the pub.' My eyes went wide. 'And what did he do?' 'He didn't even finish his drink. As soon as we got home I ordered him to strip and I used a leather belt on his bare backside!' Suddenly she was very close. Too close. I tried to avoid looking at her as she pressed close. Her large breasts touched my arm. I flinched but remained where I was. 'Look at me.' She said. It took an effort to face her. My face felt hot and I knew I was blushing like a naughty schoolgirl. Our eyes met. And locked. 'I like hurting him. I'm going to continue hurting him. Tonight, when he comes home from work I'm going to cuff him to this frame and I'm going to whip him until the blood flows.' My legs began to shake and I experienced a sharp rush of blood to my groin. My nipples were hard and erect against my blouse, and I knew I had to see her do it. When her hand slid around my waist, when she pulled me close I felt helpless. Belly to belly with our breasts crushed between us we kissed. A hot, wet mind-blowing kiss that sent my emotions into the stratosphere. Her hands were everywhere. Cupping my breasts one-minute, squeezing my buttocks the next; caressing my stomach and sliding along my thighs. Noises from above drove us apart. Gasping, hair a mess, clothing in disarray I felt horribly guilty and fearful. 'It's only him.' She said calmly. But I saw her eyes were full of excitement. 'Bring him down here. I want to watch.' I whispered my voice thick and hoarse with a terrible sick excitement. She stared at me and then, 'It will take a while. He has to be,' she paused and giggled, 'he has to be properly dressed for the occasion.' I had no idea what she was talking about but I was more than prepared to wait. 'Should I hide?' I asked. A ridiculous question the cellar was far too small. Her words assured me, 'No. By the time he sees you I'll have him under control. He won't like it - but he won't make a fuss.' The wait for her to return was almost as exciting as her kiss. My imagination helped, as did my surrounding. I heard the faint sounds of her cursing her husband. She was confronting him with the fact that he'd told me about her abuse. I was sure I heard the sound of a slap. And then about ten minutes of silence. When I heard the click of high heels on the stairs I assumed she'd changed her mind. That was when I saw him. He was wearing a black bra, a tight black half-slip and a pair of bright red stiletto heels! He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me. His mouth gaped and he moaned. His wife shoved him down the stairs saying, 'We call this his Punishment Outfit. When he's really upset me I give him a choice. We can go round to his sister's house and I can punish him there - or he can wear something totally stupid and have his beating here.' She began fastening his wrists to the steel frame. Her husband was shaking but not resisting. My excitement grew. 'I like seeing him in a bra.' She continued, 'It's a symbol you know. Once I have him in a bra and a skirt he's totally under my spell.' Once he was helpless - bound at wrist and ankle, spread-eagled for our pleasure she invited me to whip him. I shook my head but she knew what she was doing. Swinging the heavy black whip she brought it down with an audible crack against his bare shoulders. I flinched. He yelped. She laughed. I saw a red welt appear diagonally across his back and I was wet with excitement. 'More?' She enquired. 'More. More.' I hissed hardly recognising my own voice. CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK. The whistle of the whip, her laboured breathing, my gasping moans and his terrible screams filled the room. He writhed and wriggled and squealed. He tugged violently at his steel-cuffed wrists and then fainted. She came to me at once. Our mouths met with a fierce explosive kiss. She ripped my blouse open and bared my breasts. She held those tender breasts in her fists and began kissing and sucking on my nipples. As her husband groaned in agony we made frantic love in front of him! Later I tended his wounds knowing that it would all happen again, and again. I wanted it to happen, she wanted it to happen, and he was helpless to prevent it from happening. On my next visit I hit him for the first time. I used a belt - the whip scared me. I lashed out as hard as I could at his bared buttocks. She had dressed him in a short pink full slip and when he bent over the skirt rode up revealing his bare flesh. He wasn't bound - he could have run from the room. Instead he meekly accepted the pain I dished-out with barely a murmur. WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK. I can honestly say I enjoyed every stroke. Every time I heard the sound of the leather on his flesh I was thrilled. The sex was terrific! At one stage all three of us shared the same bed! And she made her husband do things that make me blush even to think of them! By this time we two girls were having regular sex ourselves, and it was my idea to feminise him completely. I used a combination of drugs and hormones, she used her wardrobe and soon he was a she-male sex-slave we could torment at our pleasure!