Chapter 1


It is of little consequence that you should know neither my name nor my history such as it is. To my clients I am, quite simply, the Counsellor. Perhaps it is a strong kink in my nature, a fever in the blood that has ordained in me a wilder course of life. I recognised something frightening in the conventional order that follows the course of a placid stream out into the rolling oblivion of the ocean void. In me was a desire to live dangerously and I was quite well equipped to confront the jagged rocks and treacherous shoals of change and the excitement of the unforeseen. 

Let us agree simply that human nature is about as bad as it can be and on that universal premise I have made it my humble lot, as a counsellor, to redress the balance between the romance of domestic virtue and malicious pleasure enshrined in the words of a great author, ‘God damn my wife. She is an excellent woman, but I wish she was in hell.’ Since I made the decision a small but select group of such excellent women have passed through my seemingly modest Academy, brought to account for their appalling attitudes to their husbands and lovers. My objective is to make them thoroughly amenable to their husbands and thereby to bring back into their family life a spirit of adventure rooted in the delights of the flesh.

One day when returning from a trip to collect a very special pedestal, a robust piece of discipline equipment designed to hold a client rigid with her bottom well presented for treatment, I heard Kerry, that excellent woman, shouting at her husband with unbridled anger. So much contempt and hatred was there in her voice that I decided it was time for me to intervene. How appropriate was it that she should be the first to test my new gadget? I could think of no one better suited to it.

I had passed her house a number of times and, too often, hearing her bawling voice rising in contempt, had fought hard against charging right in there all guns blazing. Hearing her laying down the law with such vehemence made me want to crash through the front door, drag her out by her hair, fling her into the back of my car and take her to the Academy for some very severe treatment.  Her attitude to her husband was getting out of hand. Kerry Roget needed to be seriously dealt with. She was the kind of woman in the treatment of whom I excelled as a counsellor.

Fortuitously I had met Dominic, her husband, in the Cat and Fiddle one night a few days later, drowning his sorrows. I had known of their existence for some time but only in passing, having neither visited their home nor met them socially. I had, however, been close enough to witness Dominic’s sad decline. Here now I was presented with the golden opportunity to do something about it. In a cosy corner of the pub, after some minor pleasantries, I put forward my proposition. It is always a delicate thing, to intervene between a man and his wife but this is, after all, my avowed purpose in life.  And I was not a little in demand.

Once I had broken through Dominic’s natural defences and got him talking it was clear from both the evidence I already had and from what he added that Kerry was obviously blind to everything except her own selfish needs and was, therefore, well in need of my particular brand of counselling. 

Throwing tantrums, so often the feminine way of getting what they want, was to Kerry a successful habit. Her barbed and merciless tongue was alarmingly proficient.

As Dominic continued to unburden himself it was becoming increasingly clear that I would enjoy bringing such a recalcitrant woman to heel. I explained to Dominic that my task as a Counsellor was to make permanent changes to his wife by getting her to understand her position in the scheme of things. I told him that it often required weeks of careful management at The Academy, that the treatment is largely therapeutic and, so far, always successful. I did not feel the need to explain that my methods were sometimes pleasurable, at least for me, and often painful for the client. I assured Dominic that I could help him by restoring the proper balance in their marriage. “You must give me carte blanc and put absolute trust in me.” I told him. 

At this he baulked rather but after a long reflective silence he looked up at me with a distraught expression. “Anything!” He was clearly at the end of his tether.  “I just can’t live with her any longer. She is no longer the woman I married. The damned bitch is taking me for a fool and a sucker! Why the bloody hell has she turned into such an absolute cow? Why? Why?” He was close to a breakdown and, like a drowning man, was desperate for the lifeline I was throwing him.

Kerry, like so many women today, seemed to be possessed of the belief that she had a right to make life hell for any, including her husband, who fails to fulfil, to the very letter, her every wish. Her demands had become ever more unreasonable and, on occasions, downright outrageous so that Dominic, who was utterly devoted to her, was tied up in seemingly inextricable knots with the effort of just trying to keep her happy. How dare she, a mere woman, behave like this? She had reached a point in which all was take, take, take and no give. She was even refusing to give him the comforts of her own body and that, in my book, is a mortal sin. And, for Chrissake, the bitch would go ballistic if he ever dared to look at another woman. How dare she deny him the basic needs of a healthy man? What kind of bloody arrogance is that? Evidently she was suffering from an acute reluctance to maintain either a sense of perspective or understanding. She had to be made to accept that in all things there must be an understanding of the concept of moderation. As with so many who did abuse their husbands Kerry deliberately exercised the selfish belief that Dominic should ‘do as I say and not do as I do.” I wonder, in the telling, if Kerry was being unfaithful and getting fucked by some bloke, a friend of the family or a workmate or … but why should I care? My job was to bring her back to her husband and that I would most assuredly do.

Many women in today’s world have lost the understanding of what a partnership really means and it is that basic error which has allowed me to construct a niche in the market setting out to restore perspective and to renew the understanding between husband and wife. By disabusing those women of so fundamental a fault I am, in my own small way, contributing toward making the world a better place. I have created an environment in which such bullying tactics are turned on their head. I do this by making these misguided women understand that the image of the aggressive slave/mistress they have adopted so inefficiently is way out of line and distorts entirely the actual and very subtle relationship that exists between a professional Mistress and her clients. What these wives don’t understand in that the Mistresses on whom, it would seem, they try (unsuccessfully) to base themselves are the very people to whom discontented husbands go to for solace. I have learned much over the years from those women with whom I have had cause to deal and, sadly, have discovered in some of them a streak of barbarism annealed with cynicism that it has been all but impossible to erase.

The true Mistress, magnificent creatures one and all are neither barbaric nor cynical. They are highly skilled and have an immense understanding of the male psyche. They are so much in demand today because of the Kerry’s of this world whose inability to understand men and even to understand the very principles for which they, as women, are put on this planet, makes them unfit as wives and partners. In their ignorance, largely borne of arrogance, her kind of woman stupidly pushes their relationship to the limits of endurance with a ruthlessness borne of an astonishing belief in their own superiority. Kerry embodied that ugly trait. She had pushed the boundaries far beyond her knowing and achieved … what? She had lost her way and it was for me to guide her back on to the path of respect and care for her husband. I had to master her by whatever force I was obliged to use to broach her self-esteem.

It is, for my part, a pleasurable way of living though, because of the exciting physical contact, one has to guard against involvement, a boundary so easily and often unwittingly crossed. The relationship, necessarily intimate, must never be allowed to become emotional. I had to learn to inflict corrective licence dispassionately without involving the heart. It had been a hard lesson to learn because, in spite of everything, I adore women.

Not for the first time in my career as a counsellor I was fixing my sights on correcting a cross-eyed, ill-conceived notion now so evident in Kerry. Believe me I intend to use harsh means, as I have done with many previous clients, to relieve her of her delusions. She had to understand that on her present course she was achieving only the contempt and the alienation of her husband; hatred from those people, often of both sexes, close within her orbit and contempt from those who mayhap drift into - and thankfully out of - her orbit.

Her kind of woman despises the man they dominate and because of it their demands become ever greater and ever more unreasonable. Many wish to push their husbands into total submission and subservience, to subject them to the most demeaning slavery and humiliation or reduce them to penury while lavishing all upon themselves. It rather poses the question of why they had ever married. All this revolves in a vicious circle which I am well equipped to break. My orbit was going to cross hers and she was going to have a very wobbly time of it. She would wonder at the torment I would put her through and cry at the discipline as they all have done, but in the end she will thank me for the guidance and the enlightenment. It is ever thus in the way of women and Kerry needed to understand that she was but a mere woman.

I bought Dominic another drink or two to seal the bargain. Inwardly I was revelling at the very idea of getting his wife into my Academy and into my clutches. We parted on the understanding that I would be in contact with him once a week at an appointed time to provide progress reports.

Already I was picturing Kerry mounted on the pedestal which I had securely fixed to the cold stone floor of one of my cellar annexes. I envisioned her naked bum held high and well exposed to my treatment, whatever that may be, and however it might hurt. The physical pain I inflicted was generally mild because more than that was unnecessary. All that was demanded was to bring about the more exquisite pain of deep and measured humiliation oh, and a good measure of enforced sex. I knew well about the formidable power of the cock in bringing a woman to rights and I have a formidable cock.