People always get the wrong idea when they hear about Kalysto being a matriarchal republic. They always think it's a place run by women. They think of the men wearing dog collars while their mistresses walk around with whips.

It's only half true!

Oh, I kid. It's mostly Westrian propaganda about how we are wicked man-eaters. How every male is enslaved and tormented, how they are trampled, and how they have no rights. There are nations around Kalysto who are a lot more cruel than us, but we are a pure and proper matriarchy, with the emphasis on the matriarch or the mother figure reigning supreme in households.

Men aren't subjugated or broken; it's the exact opposite. Take my boy Christopher, for instance. He is...

Oh, I forgot to introduce myself! My name is Leyla Natte. I'm currently twenty-six years of age and work at The Bank of Kalysto as a junior business manager. I was born and raised in Kalysyo to a wealthy mother. My father is a member of the state council of the city and, like many males, has fathered six families, with my mother being his third wife. Not many matriarchies let their men go around sleeping with multiple beautiful women, do they?

But anyway, about me. Like I said, I turned twenty-six three weeks ago, which is the day when the women have the opportunity to take in a boy of their own. It's called Dostra Muttera, or Second Motherhood, where a boy is taken in by a woman when he turns eighteen to be welcomed to adult Kalysto life as a man.

Typically, the boys live with their second mother for a period of five years, from when they turn 18 to 23, where they are trained to be a proper gentleman, fit to be a male in our society.

Kalypso prides itself in taking in the "rejects", the boys who have been considered inferior in their own territories. My boy, Christopher, grew up in the villages of the southeast and, as a consequence, is still quite raw and unpolished. Especially when it comes to city life. He's currently sleeping in a plush, comfy bed in his room, both luxuries of the big city and my nice apartment in the business district that Chris is unused to.

He kept bragging about how he always woke up as the sun rose above the mountains, but the boy is currently sound asleep even by seven. It's a Saturday; he doesn't have his bridging classes, so I'm not going to wake him up just yet. Instead I go on my daily jog around the block. By the time I'm back, I have a thin layer of sweat on me.

My apartment was bought by my mother when I joined the bank five years ago, so I don't really pay any rent. It's a very cosy space. I listen to Chris snoring through his door and enter his room. It's much bigger than the corner of space he was used to in his old place, with a queen-sized bed and a big desk with some books overlooking the Jorik River that flows through the city.

The air conditioner is on, much cooler than I'm comfortable with, but I suppose it must be quite cosy to be curled up under the thick blanket. No wonder he's not up!

I gently go over to wake him. He rises groggily, eyes unfocused. It always takes him a few seconds to remember where he is and my relationship with him, but once he does, he immediately blushes red.

I'm "the most beautiful woman in the world", according to him. Bit hyperbolic, but I'm not going to pretend I'm a hag. I have a pair of heavy D-cup teardrop breasts, all natural, and I look after myself with regular exercise. My job requires me to have my makeup and attire perfect so he's not being too facetious with his praise for my looks, especially with where he grew up.

"Morning, kitten," I whispered into his ear. He loves it whenever I pamper and pet him. He was raised by a strict aunt, so having a mommy in his life when he's eighteen feels exciting.

"Morning, Momma," he replied in his southeastern twang. I insisted on him calling me a maternal name instead of 'Mistress' or 'Ma'am' or my name, like some second mothers like to do. It's much cuter, especially when we are in public. I leaned closer to him. His face flushed pink in understanding as he looked at my chest. Chris leaned forward to plant a reverent kiss on my right breast on my nipple.

"Now the other," I gently guided him. The way to properly greet one's second mother needed to be drilled into him.

A woman's breasts are seen as religious symbols of maternal authority and love here. We go to the local Temple of the Earth Goddess every Sunday, where I ritualistically breastfeed him, the root of the sweetberry plant allowing me to lactate. After two sets and greeting me every day with kisses to my breasts, he was a lot more comfortable around my bosom.

He leaned for a second kiss on my left nipple before the third and fourth on the exposed cleavage. He looked up for affirmation. I just smiled and pressed his face into my cleavage as I kissed the top of his head. "Finally learned the proper greeting; that took a while."

It took a few doses of my work belt too. Like I said, the stereotype of whip-wielding women is half true. Some of us use whips and riding crops for our boys, but most prefer domestic implements.

We spank our boys. It's hard; it's often. Chris had only been with me for three weeks, and he had already been across my lap over a dozen times.

I felt him wince into my breasts at the memory of the last session. Good. I smiled as my free hand drifted down his body. "Have you been a good boy last night?" I felt his crotch; his morning erection was non-existent. There wasn't any wet patch either.

"Yes, Momma," he said obediently, still a bit sleepy. The bed and the blanket seemed extremely comfortable. I slid next to him and pulled the blanket over me. Chris is still not fully used to physical intimacy or a woman's touch, which is one of the things that I am responsible for getting him acquainted with.

"I thought boys like you are horny little pups who just want to hump everything," I teased him a little, reaching over to nibble his cheeks. I always try to get under his skin, to prod him to react. He's extremely shy around women, which is to be expected when the only feminine contact he had for years was his old aunt.

"You strapped me for having an erection and surfing porn," he complained with a yawn. Chris snuggled up into me, his face squished against my chest.

I slowly peeled my sports bra and top off, giving him access to my bare breasts. It was slightly wet from exercise, but in his half-sleepy mind it didn't even register, leaning to latch on like he had been trained during his prayer days. "It's Saturday, pup. No classes or work. I get to spend the whole day with you," I whispered into his ear. He hummed in response. His mouth felt heavenly, sucking softly as I played with his hair.

We both drifted off to sleep, waking up a couple of hours later, when he now had a full erection pressed against my thigh.

"What do we have here?" I whispered into his ear. Chris was not fully paying attention to what he was doing, still groggy. He was subtly moving his hips, rubbing his cock through his pyjamas across my bare thighs. "Christopher," I called him sharply to get his attention.

He quickly jumped up, mortified at the state he was in. "I didn't mean it!" He quickly tried to defend himself.

"You are quite the bad little puppy right now," I scolded as I sat up. I didn't put my bra back on. I always have my breasts bared when I give him a proper punishment, getting him to associate the sight of them to mean either pain or humiliation when I have him nurse in front of the temple congregation. "Take off your clothes," I ordered him.

He whimpered like an injured puppy. Chris slowly got up as I sat down on the side of the bed. He took his T-shirt off, and I helped him with his pyjamas, pulling them down along with his underwear. His erection was hard as always whenever he was about to be spanked.

"Over my knee," I ordered. He let out a small cry before settling across my lap. I adjusted him so his weight was distributed on the bed before I began with brisk, hard smacks that echoed through the room. "You. Do. Not. Hump. Momma's. Lap. Like. A. Dog! "I spank him with each word, making him squirm and cry out. I had his cock trapped in between my thighs, which meant Chris, ironically, was continuing to do the very thing I was spanking him for!

The poor thing was getting red from the embarrassment and pain, but also the growing pleasure. Chris usually got the belt as his standard form of punishment from both me and his aunt, bent across the table for a couple of dozen cracks of the spanking-grade leather strap. He got hard whenever I did it, but he wasn't getting this level of stimulation on the wooden table.

But now? He was moaning as I spanked, squirming helplessly, thrusting with each smack. At Kalysto, we don't let our boys orgasm at their discretion. He's expected to ask me for permission whenever he wants to cum.

Chris unfortunately still feels deeply embarrassed by this; I had to cane him last Sunday after confession at the temple, where he admitted to masturbating in secret. I had explained to him that we see it as the equivalent of cheating here, that it shows a lack of respect for one's woman. We allow our men to have multiple sex partners; however, they are all discussed exhaustively before getting involved.

So this humping was a good turn of events. I increased the pace of spanks, and sure enough, his thrusts grew faster. His backside was fun to spank; I enjoyed the way it absorbed my firm slaps with the right amount of pinkening. I gave four more spanks across his sitspots when it happened. Thick gobs of white sticky cum splashed across my inner thighs as Chris groaned loudly.

"Christopher? What just happened?" I asked in my cold voice that he was learning to fear. The boy shivered.

"I... ummmm... lost control," he whispered meekly.

"What's the rule about masturbation?" I asked him as I squeezed his spanked left bum cheek.

"To ask for your permission before," he replied.

"And did you ask me for permission?" I questioned.

"No," his answer was low, almost inaudible.

"And how do you think you should be punished for this?" I asked, leaning down to his ear. He gasped, no doubt remembering conversations with his new classmates about the various punishments they would've gotten over the past year living with their second mother.

"Momma, do we need to do that? Can't you just spank me?" he sniffled.

"Do what, exactly?" I asked, trying to keep the amusement out of my voice.

"Like...the strap-on. Getting my arsehole..." His words petered out softly in a deep blush.

"Do you think you have the wiggle room to negotiate?" I asked him softly. I gently lifted him off my lap so he was sitting on it instead, facing me. "You have gotten two spankings for secret masturbation, including a caning. You had promised that you would ask for permission...and yet...you actually rubbed off on my thigh! Would it be acceptable to hump your teacher's thigh if she were to spank you?"

He shook his head. "No, Ma'am," he whispered.

"So we know what comes next, right?" I questioned. "And I could spank you instead of pegging you, but know that it needs to be twice as hard as the caning because this is the third time I've had to punish you for cumming without asking. You could've told me at any time that you were on the edge. You don't use your words to communicate; that's a very important part of life with a woman."

He's blushing hard at my words. "It's hard for me to...talk," he whispered, tears still flowing from the spanking he endured. I understood. It was hard for Chris to speak to women, especially beautiful ones.

"Well, it's why you got paired with me. So you can speak to pretty girls and be taken care of by us." I lovingly kissed his cheek. I guided him back to my breast, which he took gratefully in his mouth. "You don't need to overthink it with me. I'm your Momma; you are my baby to pamper and punish. Whenever you are good and honest, you get rewarded, and when you are dishonest and naughty, you get punished. Once you are done with your punishment, you learn from it and get better. I'm not going to judge you in any way."

He had self-esteem issues, which needed to be managed carefully. I kissed his cheek as he suckled, letting him know intimacy was the norm. His aunt didn't even hug him after his strapping. I always made sure he got some physical feedback for everything.

"I'm going to have a shower, dear. Do you want to finish your punishment before that, so we can bathe together and spend the rest of the morning like this?" I offered. He whimpered on my breast for a moment before reluctantly nodding.

"Good boy." I kissed him deeply. "And you can choose to be spanked instead of pegged. Though you will be quite sore tomorrow at the temple."

He considered it for a long time. "I'll... pegged," he replied, hiding his face into me.

"Good," I whispered. "I would've done it eventually, so best get it over with." I let him to his feet and pointed at the bed. "Stack two pillows and bend over. I want you to reflect on why you are in this predicament."

I went to my bedroom, stripping off my clothes and putting them away in the hamper. I went and grabbed my strap-on harness along with a bottle of lube and a five-inch dildo. I quickly strapped it on, putting a condom on the dildo before lubing it up generously, and admired myself in the mirror. I quickly tied up my hair in a bun before heading back to Chris's room, smiling as I found him in position.

"Have you been thinking about your punishment, my naughty boy?" I asked.

He turned around and let out an audible gasp. "Momma, I'm sorry! I..." He was tongue-tied – which was expected. This was all so new!

"I know you are sorry, dear. This is how we fix your behaviour." I walked over to him, placing a soothing arm on his back. "This will ache. This is punishment; you need to learn what it feels like to be on the other side of a cock. I'm using my smallest dildo." I kiss the top of his head, positioning myself behind the boy.

"Are you ready?" I asked him. He gave a weak nod.

"Yes Ma'am."

I grabbed his hips and slowly pushed in. Chris was a resilient boy. He would've been used to getting suppositories and enemas so having his backside violated wasn't completely new. But being pegged would be, especially by someone who is fairly fit like me. He began to moan and gasp as each inch was pushed in.

"Ooof! Momma, it's too big!" He cried.

"Oh hush, your cock is twice as big," I scolded playfully. "And many girls are going to be lucky to feel it. But a proper gentleman always gets permission before he fucks a woman. If you don't, you will be getting your arsehole violated every time by me or your wives."

I finished with a hard thrust to push the entirety of the rubber cock into his hole. I began to pump in and out, stretching his backdoor. "You will not be a disgusting little slut, do you hear me? Because this is what disgusting little sluts get, they get fucked. Do you wanna get fucked or be the one doing the fucking?" I scolded as I picked up the pace.

"Oowwww! I don't know!" He cried out.

"You don't know?" I teased. "Maybe I should get a bigger cock then," I spanked his cheek hard. "Maybe Momma should do this every night; make sure you are well worn out."

He bowed his head submissively. Chris seemed to be enjoying this! "Such a cute, naughty boy!" I flipped him to his back. His cock was rock hard now. I reached down to grab it and pump it with each thrust of my dildo. "Remember the rules, baby; you will ask me for permission before you cum."

He nodded through tears. "Momma, I'm close."

"Go on then," I smiled as I continued to fuck him. He barely lasted thirty more seconds before loops of cum exploded out of his nice thick cock.

I continued to fuck him for another five minutes, reminding him again that this was punishment. Once I was done, both of us were sticky and wet. "Good boy." I lay next to him. He immediately cuddled, and I felt his mouth on my nipple, unprompted.

"Something tells me this isn't exactly punishment for you," I playfully scolded him.

"Yes, it is," he whispered with a giggle. "I just happen to be a bad boy."