6 comments/ 53772 views/ 7 favorites It Doesn't Have to be Spontaneous Ch. 01 By: mandywilluk2000 Until fairly recently I'd never really been involved in contrived or non-spontaneous sex. Whilst I was married, Kevin and I had messed around with me dressing up, both of us tying the other up and some other stuff like that, but most of what we did was spur of the moment. We didn't usually think up new things, plan them and act them out in a cold-blooded manner. That just wasn't us. When we wanted to fuck we did and to hell with plans and procedures. True, when he'd persuaded me to do glamour poses for him to photograph they had to be arranged and occasionally I would dress up for him and surprise him when he came home from work. Sometimes I became a little aroused during the day and would greet Kevin dressed in sexy undies. I had a special set for this. Black bra, panties, a waspie with suspenders and long seamed stockings. The classic erotic lingerie. What was special about it was the sizes of the bra and waspie. The former was a whole cup size smaller than my 35 d and the waspie was a tight 23 waist and 34 inch hips. My body really requires 25 or 26 inches for my waist and 36 for my somewhat bulbous hips. Thus, the gear made me, as Kevin described it, "deliciously overflow from my underwear." It also made him want me and usually he'd have me there and then, before dinner, often in the hallway against a wall or on all fours. A bit like an aperitif really. The idea, however, of hoods, leather, rubber or latex gear, acting out dominatrix and sub scenes and the various other acts associated with slightly deviant practices never really appealed. Not that either of us had anything against mild BDSM. No, we were both quite adventurous and in the right circumstances we probably could have been persuaded to indulge. However, the circumstances never came about and doing such things by ourselves struck us as faintly ridiculous. I'm sure we'd have gained more fun and laughter from him in a latex thong or me brandishing a cat o' nine tails than we would have found sexual stimulation. But after the divorce, when I was a thirty five year old on the loose, my eyes were opened, a lot. Sex of all types seemed to be everywhere and appeared to be the topic that took precedence over nearly everything else. There was, even among my age group but particularly among the young, an incredibly, to me at least, open attitude towards it. And the more I heard and read about peoples sexual inclinations the more they seemed to be slightly deviant and the more couples there were that did indulge in contrived sex. I heard of swingers' parties, role-plays, orgies, couples fantasy clubs, S & M and all manner of activities that were thought-out and planned prior to execution. During most of my marriage I was very happy and content. Well we loved each other and this was for ever, wasn't it? I always thought. So I'd hardly strayed let alone thought that much about other men or what was going on around me amongst, especially the single fraternity. I wasn't single and wasn't likely to be, so why think about them was my attitude? If they wanted to sleep around, have a variety of partners, get up to all sorts of antics and fuck one another almost as easily as giving someone a peck on the cheek, well that was up to them. Was I bit of a prude? Well yes I suppose I was. But then I could afford to be. I was married, had a husband that loved me and, unlike many of my friends, we had a very active and energetic sex-life. The need to experiment, choose men to go to bed with or know the ways of the modern woman with regard to relationships in general and sexual ones in particular just didn't cross my mind. So a year or so after I kicked Kevin out when the divorce came through, I had no idea how to start my new single life. I was out of practice with talking to men who wanted to date me. I had forgotten how to relate to potential bed partners. After all, since I'd taken up with Kevin when I was twenty, I'd only slept with him and one other man, both of whom at the time I thought I loved. I was determined to learn though and to learn fast. I didn't want to be alone and I certainly didn't want to sit in night after night watching TV or pretending that reading books or doing crosswords made for enjoyable and fulfilling evenings. No, I wanted the taste of youth that I'd lost by going with a man ten years my senior when I was nineteen. Although I had a daughter approaching her teenage years I wanted to be out and about. I wanted to go clubbing, as they called it, for I'd never been, well not as a single girl on the pull I hadn't. I wanted to go to pubs and bars. I wanted to be chatted up, I wanted men to come after me and yes I wanted to get laid. I wanted sex. I needed it, after all there had probably not been week gone by for fifteen years or so when I hadn't had it. The idea of going weeks or even worse without it horrified me. So I went on a strict diet getting my weight down to around 135 pounds which was about right for my quite full and rather rotund figure. I tried various new hair dos but didn't change my natural chestnut colour, although for a while I did contemplate going blonde, after all they're supposed to have more fun aren't they? I didn't, though, and I settled on broadly the same style I'd had for several year. Wild and unkempt, shoulder length with a "dragged through a hedge backwards look," as my hairdresser called the style that he charged a fortune to create. I put myself a bit. I accepted invitations to parties and functions. I rejoined my tennis club and took up golf again. I went back to work. I found the Internet and chat rooms. I had fun on there and that, probably more than anything else opened my eyes to the sexual revolution that had passed me by. I know there's total anonymity on there but to have total strangers type to me. "What colour panties you wearing?" or ask, "wanna see my cock on cam?" was certainly educational. And overall it worked. I quite quickly made myself a new circle of friends, well acquaintances I suppose, both in the cyberland of chat rooms and in the harsher one of reality. I developed an active social life and started dating. In fact it all probably worked too well as, for a year or so I was rushed off my feet with my social whirl. That wasn't a good thing as far as my relationship with Sarah my daughter was concerned, so once I'd got myself established I vowed to change. It also wasn't really a very good idea for my self esteem. Sure having men after me did give me confidence. Having them chat me up and ask me out reassured me that Kevin's philandering wasn't totally down to me. Going on dates showed me that I could relate to, and get on well with, almost, strangers, something that had worried me for I'd never been much good at that. And of course going to bed with them and having sex with a number of men demonstrated to me that probably I wasn't that bad in bed and that most men enjoyed my body. It also fed the appetite I had for sexual satisfaction, probably too much. In fact to the extent that my self esteem did suffer. After all it's not that easy to provide moral judgements to a teenage daughter when just the night before that girl's mum was being fucked in a car in a darkened car park. It's hard to give advice on the "birds and bees" when there's just been too many men birds in the mummy bee's bed. Feeling good about oneself and life in general doesn't easily follow having three men on the go at one time and in one crazy week going to bed with each of them on consecutive nights. It did, though, blow the cobwebs away. It did loosen me up and it did bring me into the 21st century of womanhood. Sure I went too far. I was, for a while, too easy. I did during that year sleep around a bit. But maybe it was necessary. Possibly I needed the excess to find and appreciate the norm. Chatting to men,, and women come to that, on the net widened my sexual outlook considerably. I exchanged views on aspects of sex that I knew little about and certainly had never experienced. It made me more broad minded and acceptable of sexual practices that I had no desire to experience, well not sure about no, let's say little shall we? The exposure to such things really did enable me to very much accept the maxim "different strokes for different folks," and that made me far less judgemental. After that first mad year I did settle down. I found the equilibrium, the balance between leading a fun life, where I caught up on what I'd missed out and being a mum. Between getting the sex I needed and being overly promiscuous. It was during that year that I met and started going out with Adrian. A widowed advertising executive in his late forties he had two children, both boys, who were away at boarding school. He lived in a rambling town house just off Hoxton Square in Shoreditch, East London. The area, which had been depressed for years, was making a strong comeback with everywhere being gentrified and at that time was rapidly becoming the trendiest area in all of London. We met playing golf. We dined together afterwards, got on well, went on two dates then slept together. He was good, well more OK really, in bed. The first few time we had sex there was something just a little wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on what. There was a sort of edginess on his part. Sure, he took his time and made sure that I was suitably aroused by fairly lengthy foreplay. But that was mechanistic and almost as if he was making love to me by following instructions from a manual. Despite that he produced the appropriate reactions from me, multiple and satisfying orgasms. He was a well-built guy in his mid forties but, slightly embarrassingly, he was a couple of inches shorter than me. Good looking with a full head of hair Ade, as usually called him, had very bad eyesight and had to wear thick spectacles, as his particular stigmatism prevented him wearing contacts. A few weeks later Sarah was away for a weekend, so I arranged to spend it with him at his house which was just three miles from my Docklands flat. We had dinner on the Friday night at a Vietnamese restaurant in Kingsland Road, walked to his house, slightly tipsy holding hands and stopping to kiss every few yards in doorways and dark places. In one he slid his hand in my blouse and then in another he scooped my breasts from my bra. On the remainder of the short walk through the crowded streets of Hoxton we were heavily aroused, very excited and totally tuned into sex, especially as both of my breasts were out of my bra and the extended nipples were making large outlines in the thin top. He fucked me in the hallway of his house. He fucked me just like they had it in The Thomas Crown Affair, the second one I mean with Piers Brosnan, half way up a staircase. He didn't undress me but merely pushed my leather skirt up, tugged my panties down round my thighs and fucked me like that. And it was great. It was exactly what the circumstances and our mood demanded. A hard, fast, raw and dirty fuck with no edginess. Perhaps it was more satisfying because his instruction manual didn't cover how to fuck half way up a staircase! We drank more and then went to bed and there he didn't fuck me. No there, in his very masculine bedroom we made love. We made long, lingering, tender and pretty satisfying love. We'd taken the bottle of wine to bed with us and after we'd both climaxed, well with me it was after several climaxes, I was leaning back against his outstretched legs sipping my wine totally satisfied and fully at peace with life. "Can you reach the bottle Amanda?" he asked, adding. "It's a little difficult for me, as I have such a lovely lump leaning on me." Smiling I turned towards the bedside table but saw that I wouldn't be able to reach. I rolled over so that I laid across Adrian's his lap, my legs bent with his thighs pressing into my tummy. As I stretched to pick up the bottle so I felt his hands on my bottom. He stroked me murmuring. "Mmmm that's a lovely sight Amanda." I didn't reply or move but laid there enjoying his touch on that part of my body that has always been very sensitive. "Very, very nice," he went on running a finger along the crease between the cheeks that he continued stroking with his other hand. "Is that nice?" "Mmmm," I sighed probably slightly wiggling it a bit as I revelled in the lovely feelings his hands were giving me. He had a lovely, light but nicely enquiring touch and I was just getting used to his gentle yet persistent touch when suddenly I firstly heard, "thwack," then felt a searing pain on my left cheek as clearly he smacked me. I cried out "ouch" and was just about to ask what the hell was going on, for I thought more were on their way, when I felt his hand pressing softly and gently caressing me right where the blow had landed. "I just couldn't resist it Amanda," he said huskily adding, "you have the most smackable bottom." As it happened, I then had a call on my mobile so nothing more happened that night along those lines. We spent the next day together shopping in town and buying each other presents that we'd agreed we'd open that evening after we'd had the dinner that we'd planned to cook together. A perfect, new lover's week-end. We cooked together and then ate a great meal washed down with a crisp Chablis and then a hugely extravagantly bottle of Chateau Talbot claret that must have cost at least £60. We were both feeling warm and mellow as we sat down on the large sofa in the upstairs lounge that was lit merely by the street lamps outside. We were almost immediately in each others arms kissing and touching each other. We'd by now become pretty comfortable and relaxed together so I was able, without fear of being considered too forward, able to match him touch for touch and caress for caress. So as my blouse came undone I slipped the buttons of his shirt open. As his hands found my breasts inside the white, lace, totally see through bra so mine ran across his nicely hairy chest, As his enquiring fingers edged inside my bra running across the smooth flesh of my breasts and the slightly bumpier skin of my areola so mine found and frequently pinched his nipples. His belt and zip were opened at about the same time as my skirt was pushed up my legs and his erection was bared just as the skirt was bunched around my waist. So I gazed at his penis as he looked at my pubic mound inside the white net panties. And finally my hand wrapped around his rampantly straining cock just as his fingers found the damp outline of my drenched cunt inside my panties. "Here or shall we go to bed?" he asked. Bending forward with my eyes looking up at his I brought the bulbous end of his uncircumcised cock towards my mouth as I smiled and said. "I'm a little too busy to tramp up the stairs Adrian so make love to me here." Adrian had the highest quality, thickest pile carpet I'd ever seen or ever laid upon. Rolling around on it as his trousers and boxers and my skirt and panties came off it felt like velvet. It was so smooth and soft and just perfect to make love on. "Lay back," I whispered pushing Adrian and positioning myself kneeling across his thighs. Pressing against his chest as I pushed his face from my tits I smiled. "Just lay there and let me fuck you. It's such a lovely feeling, such a wantonly decadent sensation as a woman impales herself on her lover's erection and sinks down on it until the lips of her pussy are pressed against his pubic mound. And that's just how it was as I started to fuck Adrian. My breasts jiggling around all over the place, my hair cascading over my face, I pumped myself up and down on him, We both grasped my bouncing tits at the same time jointly enjoying the sensation of squeezing and pinching the soft flesh. I was soon getting so aroused that I would either have to stop or I'd cum. "God yes, oh shit Adrian I'm cumming, I'm cumming," I moaned as the rivers of sensations rushed through my body. "Yes darling, yes," he groaned back as we both held our bodies still his cock as far in me as it could possibly be. "Cum for me, cum on my big, hard cock." "Oooooooooooooooooooooooo, arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh," I grunted as I did cum, hard and long. Collapsing onto him his erection still buried inside me, I wrapped my arms around his neck kissing him deeply and whispering. "Thank you, thank, you, thank you darling, that was amazing." As I lay there I felt his hands on my bottom stroking it. He then fumbled around my legs pulling them so they were stretched out behind me, slightly open and resting full length with his between them. "Put your legs on top of mine Mands," he whispered between planting kisses all over my face and mouth. I raised them and laid them on top of his. In that position I felt so wonderfully full. Little tremors from my orgasm were running through me causing me to sigh and moan with the pleasure from what I'd received from the climax, was getting now from being kissed and having Adrian fully erect inside me and from the anticipation of what was surely to come soon. I hadn't expected what happened next though. Adrian suddenly started lightly smacking each of my bum cheeks in turn. Not very hard but enough to make quite obvious smacking sounds and to give me sharp, short shocks of slight pain with each smack. I didn't know what to do or what to say so I simply laid there as he lightly spanked my bottom. I could feel it starting to sting and becoming warm. "Is that Ok Mands?" He asked as I grunted what he must have thought was an ok for he continued smacking and then caressing each cheek as once again my legs fell open dropping to either side of his closed legs. "Is it good, is it ok?" He asked again as now his fingers stroked along the opened crease of my bum and down further to rub along my soaked lips. It really was an amazing combination of sensations. He and I were kissing. We were mixing deep, lips wide open, tongue searching, mouths squirming kisses with little light pecks and licks all over the others face and hair. He was inside me. He was buried deep in my pussy, filling me and sending explosions of feelings through me as either he or I moved. He was spanking my bottom. Slapping and smacking the softness of my spreaded cheeks in turn. As much as anything else it was the sound his hand made on my, now, smarting skin that was, in some ways, the most immediate sensation that hit me. Each smack seemed so loud, almost like the crack of a whip. Each little explosion of sound was then followed by stinging, smarting blast of pain that as blow after blow came down became more of a deep warmth than a hurt or an ache. Whether it was the smacking together with everything else, or whether it would have happened in any case I don't know, but suddenly we were both climaxing. And climaxing very heavily indeed. I was moaning and grunting, covering his face in little kisses and stroking his hair and head with my hands as I felt him ejaculating into me. "Oh God Mands, oh yes. Oh fucking hell. Fucking hell," he moaned as he thrust his hips upwards lifting his bottom and me from the floor whilst he shot his stuff into me for what seemed an age, but probably was no more than ten to fifteen seconds I suppose. We laid there on the floor for quite some time kissing and stroking, whispering niceties to each other and simply enjoying the mellowness of that wonderful post orgasm time. I could feel Adrian getting softer and then as I moved a little he slipped out. I rolled off him and we lay side by side until I got up and used the bathroom. I had a quick shower and slipped into one of his bathrobes hanging on the back of the door. We sat around drinking coffee, chatting and listening to music for quite some time. Nothing was said about what had happened and later we went to bed and made sweet and tender love. It Doesn't Have to be Spontaneous Ch. 01 I couldn't, though, get the smacking of my bottom out of my mind. It had hit a chord inside me. It had stimulated something that must have been lying dormant in the deeper recesses of my psyche for ages. Every time I thought of his hand hitting my bottom or me lying there in expectancy my heart started to beat faster. I didn't know why. I'd never yearned for it, although, as many women so I've read and heard about, there was a tiny part of me that was intrigued by the idea. As it happens Adrian was away on business in America for the next week or so, and as we often did when he was away, we kept in touch by yahoo messenger. That way as I worked at home or he worked in his LA office we could leave the PCs on and have periodic written "conversations." It also meant that I could chat to some of the people I'd made friends with on there and, more pointedly, it meant that I could cruise around some sites to learn more about my new found interest. I was absolutely amazed at just how much information there was about corporal punishment in general and spanking in particular. It almost seemed as though everyone was interested in it and the act itself was as good as commonplace. I read about the bond that was formed and was necessary between the "master" and "pupil;" the trust there had to be between the two of them; the fusion of dominating and submitting; the combining of pain and pleasure and of firmness and gentleness and of the ritualistic manner in which most couples went about it. Through the very brief exposure with Adrian I was able to associate with some, but not all that I read. What I was able to do in spades, though, was recognise my interest in and, likely desire for more, spanking. Often, the "conversations" on messenger with Adrian became quite colourful and occasionally we'd give into the feelings of arousal and we'd mutually masturbate. Sometimes in writing and sometimes on the phone we'd tell each other what we were doing, gradually getting to the point where we wanted to cum. It became a point of pride for us to try to arrange simultaneous climaxes. Something that seems easier to do when together than when on the end of a PC! So it wasn't a surprise to me when a window popped open mid afternoon a few days later as I was working at home. It wasn't even that much of a surprise when I read. "What are you wearing?" That had become an in joke of ours. I'd mentioned to him once that I had tried chat rooms in the past and one of the questions I was frequently asked was just that. I'd also told him that it was usually then followed by enquiries about my underwear. Smiling I typed back. "Earrings and a big smile." I laughed when his reply came back. "You're overdressed wipe the smile from your face." We exchanged pleasantries for a while about how we were, the weather, his trip, my work and our plans for the day. "Looking forward to Thursday?" he asked referring to his expected arrival home. "Yes of course." "Can you stay the night?" "Probably, but will you be up to it after the flight and the jet lag?" "I'll be up for anything to get the chance of all night with you?" "You won't be able to stay the pace; I'll come round for the evening and then go home. Ok?" "If you don't agree to stay the night I'll have to give you a spanking." "Oh yeah, promises, promises," I typed just as the phone rang. "BRB Phone.," I wrote to him. Talking to an agent I watched Adrian's words coming up on my screen. "No Mands, not just promises now is it 'cos you've had some haven't you? You've had some smacking, some spanking haven't you?" Tucking the phone into the crook of my neck I tapped. "Yes," as I felt a little shiver running through me reading what he'd just put. "And you liked it didn't you?" There was a pause before he typed again. "You did didn't you Amanda? You enjoyed me spanking your bum didn't you?" I wasn't at all sure just where this was leading but I could feel my arousal building up and that prompted me to again tap in y e s adding quickly. "I'm still on the phone Adrian." "That's ok just read and type yes or no as appropriate." "Ok" "You did like it didn't you?" "Yes." "It made you cum didn't it?" "Yes." "It made you cum very hard didn't it?" "Yes." Listening to the agent droning on about the big job he was negotiating for me I was becoming rather befuddled. Listening and talking business but reading and typing sex is confusing, difficult and quite exciting. The danger is that sometimes you can say what you mean to type and I was scared I might find myself asking my agent to spank my bum! "And you want me to do it again don't you?" I didn't type anything for a while. "Don't you Amanda? You want me to spank you again don't you? Spank your bottom, smack your bum until I make you cum. That's what you want isn't it?" I found my heart was pounding and my breath was coming in pants and spurts. I felt warm and my body was tingling all over. My breasts felt so full and heavy as the words on the screen smashed into my mind. "Don't you, don't you, don't you?" I read. "I'll call you back" I gasped to the agent as those amazingly arousing words exploded onto my screen. "You want your bum smacked until it tingles, until it goes all red and is so hot you could cook toast on it. That's what you want isn't it?" "Yes." "And then you want me to soothe it, kiss it, love it and make it better don't you?" "Yes." "And then as I love it and kiss you'll want me to fuck you until you cum and cum and cum won't you Amanda?" "Yes Adrian yes." My mobile started to ring. "So what exactly are you really wearing?" Adrian asked down the phone. The tightness of his voice told me that the messenger exchange had excited him as it had me. "Tracky trousers and a tee," I replied, adding. "Hi how are you?" "Hi. Very well but fucking horny now. And under them?" I'd half expected him to ring so I was telling the truth when I replied. "Not much." "What then?" "Just a thong?" "No bra?" "No." "You're a dirty girl aren't you Mandy?" "Am I?" "Yes. Dirty and naughty and you know what dirty naughty girls have to have, don't you?" "I think I can guess," I said quite surprised but nevertheless excited at the way the chat was going. "And what do you guess Mandy?" "Punishment I suppose," I was amazed to hear myself saying. "Yes but what sort of punishment?" I found it hard to say what was obvious and my hesitation caused him to say. "How would you like me to punish you Amanda?" It just came blurting out then. "Spank me I suppose Adrian." "Yes of course but where shall I spank you?" It actually took a lot for me to say what I felt but after a moment or two I said very quietly. "On my bottom. I want you to spank my bottom." "Jesus Mandy this is fucking amazing I'm as hard as a rock here. Are u wet?" I couldn't help laughing as I returned to the formula of when I was on the phone. "Yes." "Very?" "Yes." "Are your nipples hard?" "Yes," I replied squeezing one through the tee shirt. "They're very hard." "You're feeling them aren't you?" "Yes." I pulled the tee out from the elasticated waist band of the silver coloured track trousers. "Are you stroking your tits yet?" "Just about to," I said sliding my hand inside the tee and cupping one of my breasts. I squeezed and stroked that. "Mmmmmmmmm." "You want to cum Mands?" "Soon yes, do you?" "Of course." "Talk more to me," I asked squeezing and caressing my breasts in turn. It really did feel marvellous and I knew that when I wanted to I'd be able to cum. "When I get home on Thursday I want to spank you. May I? Would you like that?" As Adrian changed the subject back to that intriguing and now very exciting topic I was pinching and pulling both of my nipples at the same time for they were aching so much from the sexual tension that was building up in me. He didn't wait for a reply before asking. "What are you doing Mands? Are you undressed yet?" "I'm pinching my nipples," I whispered in the tiny phone cradled in my neck. "Hold on I'm going to put the phone on loudspeaker." "I guess you do need both hands with tits your size," he said clearly smiling. "What are you doing?" I asked. "Lying on my bed stark bollock naked with a raging hard on that I'm stroking. Can you visualise that Mandy?" "Mmmm yes I can, it's a nice vision as well" "Are you undressed?" He asked again. "No, no I'm not?" "Will you for me?" "Yes." I spoke into the small microphone of the mobile lying close to me on my desk explaining exactly what I was doing. "I've pulled the tee over my head and my hair's all messed up but falling down around my shoulders." "What do your tits feel like Mands?" "Big, heavy, full, aching," I croaked again cupping and squeezing them, "They'll feel amazing on Thursday when I spank you. You won't believe what it's going to be like." "Why what's going to happen?" "Well first you have to promise to do exactly what I tell you. OK?" "Yes, yes I will." "OK well you have to understand Amanda that spanking is more than just the actual smacking." "How do you mean?" I asked my hands roaming all over my breasts sending wonderfully delicious tingles through my entire body. "Is it nice?" He asked out of the blue? "What?" "Making love to your big soft tits? I can hear it in your voice." "Mmmmm it's wonderful." "Then take your trackies off for me. Stand up, look in the mirror, take them off and tell me as you do it." "Mmmm my nipples are so hard, my breasts feel as if they're about to explode," I said into the phone as I looked in the long mirror, my hands sliding into the waist of the trousers. "Some of my hair has tumbled down onto my boobs and I'm pushing it off," I went on." "Take them off Mandy, get your trousers off." "Yes Adrian," I breathed sliding them down. "What colour's the thong?" "Pastel blue and lacy." "Oh God Mandy I bet you look fantastic, is the thong soaked?" I could see the darkness of the stain of my juices on the gusset. "Yes very." "God you'll be soaked when I spank you on Thursday. I'll have a special pair of panties for you to wear. I'm going to buy them on Sunset Boulevard later today." "Special? How will they be special?" "That's all part of what I mean about it being more than just the smacking. It's how you dress, how I dress, how we go about it and everything. It's almost a ritual, a ceremony. The spanking is just part of it. An important part but not all of it." "I see," I replied not really quite understanding. "So what about the panties?" "You'll see on Thursday. I'll have all the clothes you'll need to change into." "OK." "Oh Mands just thinking of how great it's going to be is making me rub harder and faster. How about you? Are you touching your pussy yet?" "Yes Adrian I am now." "Is it wonderful?" "Yes" "Make yourself cum Mands. I'm very near are you?" "Yes, yes," I sighed my finger rubbing faster and faster right alongside my clitoris, the place that I find the most sexually sensitive. "Make me cum, Ade, make me cum, please, please make me cum," I groaned in the phone as I gripped my hand between my thighs. "I'm cumming Mands, I'm cumming," he grunted out of the phone. "Cum with me darling, cum with me." I did. Easily, willingly and so wonderfully sordidly. Lying back in my big, black, leather chair, naked apart from the pale blue lacy thong that was pushed half way down my thighs I fucked myself. I fucked myself vigorously, eagerly and satisfyingly telling my telephone lover exactly what I was doing as I heard his words of filth thundering out of the loudspeaker on my mobile. We spoke a couple more times before the Wednesday evening when he was catching his flight. We didn't though get into a particularly sexy chat and certainly not one that led to mutual masturbation. With the time difference that was only practical around seven or eight am or eleven or twelve at night California time, which is three or four in the afternoon or seven or eight in the morning London time. Often they were inconvenient times for me so we just had to miss out and save it for when he got back. We did, though, chat briefly both on the phone and messenger about the forthcoming Thursday afternoon and evening with him explaining that he'd completed the shopping for my "uniform" but wouldn't tell me what it was. It was agreed that he'd ring me from the airport and then when he got home. I'd then get a cab over that would only take ten to fifteen minutes and then the "proceedings would begin," he said with a deep chuckle. Over the next couple of days I thought quite a lot about what might happen. I was intrigued by some of the things he'd said. "It's like a ritual, a ceremony." "The trappings are as important as the main event." "Everything combines to provide a really amazing mutual orgasm." "The feelings you'll get from the combination of the smacking and my caresses will be like nothing you've ever experienced." I wasn't, though, that easily able to understand what it was that so interested me about it. Was it the submitting myself to someone, them controlling and directing me? Was that what appealed? Being directed and, in a way, looked after? No not looked after really for there was the chastising, the punishment, the correcting and the disciplining. Was it, I wondered, the exhibitionism? The flaunting my bottom, one of my better features I've always thought, to a man? Was it that or was it that some pain appealed to me? I just couldn't get my head round it. Al I knew for sure was that every single time I thought about it, and I thought about it almost endlessly, I got excited. I could hardly wait for Thursday It Doesn't Have to be Spontaneous Ch. 02 I'd never really had pain given to me as part of a sexual act. Well of course there had been the odd bite, or suck that was a little too hard and sometimes with Kevin he'd apply too much pressure to squeezing my breasts or pinching my nipples, but nothing severe and certainly nothing that had been planned by both of us. And in some ways it was the fact that we had planned it together and that had created the expectancy and anticipation about the unknown that was the most intriguing aspect as I'd waited the few days from that phone call. Also looking forward to being hurt, being smacked or spanked, I wasn't quite sure which was the more evocative word. The one that made my pulse race more as it came into my mind. Which was it spanked or smacked, that gave me the stronger jolt when I thought to my self? "He's going to spank me." "He's going to smack my naked bottom." And in those few days between formally agreeing to it and now getting ready for it I'd said such things to myself many times. Since sitting in front of my PC as good as naked, masturbating myself and admitting to Adrian that I enjoyed the smacking he'd done, I'd though of little else. From the moment I'd said to him, "on my bottom, I want you to spank my bare bottom," it had become in my mind a totally accepted fact that he'd do just that. It didn't really now seem to be that outrageous a proposition more an inevitability, I suppose. "There's a couple of things you need to do before you arrive at my house." Adrian had said over his mobile in the car on the way from the airport. "Ok, what's that?" I'd asked. I could hardly hear his reply for he was whispering, presumably to avoid the driver hearing him as he said. "Put your hair into pigtails for me and wear little make up." "What? Er, um why?" "You need to look and feel as young as possible." I didn't really understand why but I went along with his requests. On the cab ride to his house, though, I did wear a hat so I could hide the pigtails that otherwise would have hung down my back well past my shoulders. I hadn't worn my hair like this for such a long time and it was actually quite good fun plaiting it. I'd showered and had washed and dried my hair. I was sitting, dressed just in my panties, in front of my dressing table mirror carefully weaving my hair into the schoolgirl type plaits. When both were finished and I'd put tight rubber bands around the ends I glanced in the mirror. It would be rather illusory of me to think that the hair style had taken years off me, I just wish it had. But somehow the young girl look of the plaits with the clearly womanly look of my bare breasts gave me quite a sexual jolt. I began to see what Adrian meant about the whole thing! "Let yourself in," he said when I called him from the cab. "Go to that small back bedroom on the first floor and you'll find what you have to wear there. It's all lying on the bed or hanging up next to it. There's everything you need so don't wear anything you've got on now. Is that clear Mands?" "Yes Adrian," I replied quietly for the same reasons he'd whispered from his car earlier on his way from the airport. "Did you manage the pigtails and remember no make up?" "Yes, yes I did," I mumbled very quietly feeling very embarrassed even though there was no way the cabbie could have heard anything. "Fantastic. So when you're dressed, and ready and do take your time come to the back room in the basement where I'll be waiting for you. Now that the time was as good as here for the cab was pulling into Hoxton Square, I did begin to feel very nervous. Nervous about perhaps being hurt and having to take the pain that was clearly an essential aspect of corporal punishment. Nervous about the contrived, almost cold-hearted way we'd arranged this and whether that would reduce the pleasure. After all I'd always had my best sex when events happened spontaneously. Nervous about my reactions and whether I would get the kicks I expected and Adrian promised. Maybe most nervous, though, at the slightly deviant nature of this particular aspect of sex. I was intentionally moving away from mainstream sex and was welcoming Adrian in pushing out my boundaries. I was going further than I'd been before. That made me nervous for did it mean that if I didn't like what I found I might not be able to revert to "normal" sex? I thought that I'd probably be ok for I'd handled my forays into girl/girl sex quite well and despite now having quite a few experiences with a number of women I hadn't "become a lesbian" or a penis hater. Hanging up beside the bed on a coat hanger was a blouse and a skirt. It was a white cotton blouse with a collar and buttons right up the front. A short, pleated skirt that was patterned a little like a kilt with blue and green the predominant colours. As I picked it up I could feel that the plaid wasn't as heavy as the real tartan, in fact it was quite lightweight. Holding it against me it came no further than half way down my thighs. There was a pair of white, lacy topped hold-ups and a pair of silver strappy, mid height heeled shoes. The only other piece of clothing was a pair of panties. There was no bra. The panties were full and high waisted. So from that perspective they were modern. I picked them up and held my hand inside them. Being made of a pink, looseweave net, I suppose it was, they were as good as completely see through. I was getting into it. I was understanding more and more what Ade had said about CP being a ritual. Dressing quickly I felt shivers of expectancy going through me as I was transformed. Transformed from an approaching middle age, conventional, business woman of near forty to a young girl looking rebel that was about to have her arse smacked and then Lord knows what done to it. I hadn't seen the mirror until I was dressed for he'd hung the coat hanger holding the blouse and skirt over it. I'm sure that it was intentional by him that I wouldn't see it until then. And I was also sure it was equally as intentional that I should then look at myself in the nearly full-length mirror. It was all part of the ritual, an essential aspect of the ceremony, I realised with excitement. My heart pounded when I saw myself in the mirror. I knew that in some ways I would look ridiculous. I am, I was very aware, simply too old to carry off the look Adrian was seeking other than in the special circumstances he was creating. But in those circumstances my appearance excited me. The cotton blouse was not of a very high quality. The material was thin and looked and felt as though it was old, well worn and had been washed too often. With all the buttons done up it did though fit me well. It was trim across my back and whilst it showed the outline of my boobs it didn't cling to them overly tightly. However, when I moved the jiggle of each orb under the material was very obvious indeed. As, of course, were the dark shadows of my nipples with the strong protuberances in the centre trying hard and largely succeeding I saw in the mirror to make mountains out of molehills. Standing up straight the hem of the skirt did, at least, cover my stocking tops. Just. But when I bent or leaned forward past about forty five degrees it didn't. No at that degree of tilt I really did flash them, A few more degrees and the patch of skin between them and my panties was also revealed. And when I bent so my waist was at ninety degrees as I imagined I'd be when Adrian spanked me the skirt rode up so that most of the pink, net panties could be seen. If his intention with the clothes and the mirror was to stimulate, excite and arouse me and make me even more amenable to the forthcoming spanking then he most definitely succeeded. My hands were shaking, my knees were probably knocking and I know my breasts were wobbling and jiggling all over the place as I walked down the stairs to the formidable sounding basement. I opened the door and was part relieved and part frightened to see that the room was very dimly lit. "Come in Amanda," I heard Adrian say. Trying hard to accustom my eyes to the low light, I walked into the fairly large room. I'd only been in it once before when Adrian had given me the guided tour of his large rambling house that, due to the recent property inflation, was probably worth well in excess of a million pounds. I couldn't see him but when he spoke again I realised he was standing behind the door. "Go to the centre of the room Amanda and stand there," he said. I did as he asked noting that the room was windowless, which wasn't surprising considering it was a basement. It was about twenty feet square with a large, low, modern bed at one end off to my right and a table at the other end to my left. In the middle of the room where I'd been told to stand there was a single, straight backed dining chair. There was a door alongside the bed. Glancing around I could see that the bed had black, silk or satin sheets with the top one turned back as if inviting someone to get in. Looking the other way I saw that the table had some items on it that, at first, I couldn't make out. As my eyes became acclimatised to the dark I began to see what they were. There were several bottles that looked as if they contained oils and others that appeared to hold lotions. There was a pile of towels or flannels and a large ceramic bowl that looked as though it held water. Looking closer, I saw two vibrators, one black the other gold. And then I saw the cane. The cane that could only have one purpose. The cane that could only have one intent. The cane that was there to hurt and then pleasure me. The cane that I had never thought about before. The cane that there and then, I think, I fell in love with. It seemed so right. It seemed to be perfect. It was what I'd been searching for. What I needed, what I wanted, what I so utterly desired. And to think I'd never really even thought about it before. Not until I saw the two feet of bamboo with a hooked end hanging from the table. Not until that moment did I realise the dormant need that had been lying there asleep in me. Not until the cane that Adrian had placed so cleverly was staring at me did I realise that it was my ultimate. My total desire. My one wish and need. I knew then looking at that cane that my life had from that moment intrinsically changed. That not Adrian or the other men that wanted to, and indeed had, fucked me, were my lovers. No that cane I felt would have a bearing on the rest of my life. "Stand still for me Amanda. Just let me look at you," the still unseen Adrian said to me. Hands clasped in front of me I did as he asked. Not speaking, standing perfectly still, dressed in the, on one hand, somewhat ludicrous get up yet, on the other, a provocatively sexual, outfit I waited. He took his time saying nothing and as far as I could tell not moving. It was a little unnerving to stand there simply being stared at by the man that was going to spank and smack me. I wondered what was going through his mind, what he was thinking about as he looked at me?. Looked at me clad in the clothes that combined the innocence of a young girl with experience of a woman. The pigtails of youth with the unfettered breasts of maturity. The blouse and skirt of the playground with the stockings and panties of the bedroom. His "inspection" seemed to go on for ages and more and more now, I realised what he meant by his comments about the ritual. "Well done Amanda, you look perfect." I heard him say, feeling rather than seeing, him move silently across the room so he was next to me. I'd been a little concerned as to what his "uniform" would be. What the ceremonial garb was for a spanker? I'd half thought he might blow it all for me by wearing something totally outrageous, like a mask, or cape or, heaven forbid, a leather thong. I'm pretty sure that had he worn any of those or anything too contrived, say a headmaster's gown and mortarboard, I'd have laughed and, despite the heightened state of arousal that the proceedings had so far caused for me, I'd be unable to continue. Although sexual acts can be fun I don't think they work when they become ridiculous. So the long, dark coloured, silk dressing gown that Adrian was wearing was perfect. It had plunging lapels, so that a wide and deep expanse of his fairly hairy chest could be seen, with a tie round his waist. There were no buttons so a slight tug on that and it would open and his, I assumed, total nudity would be shown to me. I smiled and murmured. "You don't look so bad yourself Adrian." He didn't reply but slowly walked round me looking at me from all angles. His appearance and his gaze on me rekindled my arousal and as I stood there I could feel my nipples hardening. That's something that often I don't realise has happened until perhaps a man's staring will raise my suspicions sufficiently for me to glance down and see the two organ stop like lumps poking out from my swimsuit or whatever it is I'm wearing. This time, though, I was acutely aware that the thin, nearly see through, cotton blouse was struggling unsuccessfully to hide the eruption going on in my chest. I glanced down and the bumps were both larger and more obvious than I'd imagined and looking up I saw that Adrian was also staring at them. "Amanda's having some naughty thoughts isn't she?" He asked. "Er yes, yes she is." I replied. "And young girls like Amanda shouldn't have such thoughts should she?" "No, no Adrian they shouldn't," I heard myself replying as I slipped into the role of being a young girl. I hadn't for one moment thought that we'd get into a role-play and that was just as well for that was also something that I would have thought was just a little bit too silly. But it seemed to come so naturally and far from being ridiculous, adopting such a role seemed natural and was, I have to admit, exciting. "No Amanda," he went on, his gaze roaming unrestrained all over my body sending even more tingles of desire through me. "Young girls shouldn't have naughty thoughts should they?" "No Adrian they shouldn't." "Because when they have naughty thoughts things happen to them don't they?" "Yes, yes they do," I replied seeing quite clearly the silk robe moving as his erection grew. "Things that are happening to you aren't they?" "Yes." "And what is happening to you Amanda? What is happening to your young girl's body?" I didn't reply for a moment not sure what he wanted me to say. "You can tell me Amanda, you can tell me anything," he went on standing so close I could smell the Dior aftershave he always wore. Glancing down I could clearly see the outline of his hard cock under the thin material and it took a superhuman effort on my part to resist reaching out and grabbing it. I wanted to so badly but thought it would probably mess up the "ceremony!" "My nipples are getting hard," I said in a whisper now totally into the role-play. "Are you wet as well Amanda?" he asked. "Yes Adrian, yes I think I am," I responded not really knowing whether I was or not. "And that's also very naughty isn't it?" "Yes, yes it is." "And when young girls are naughty they have to be punished. They have to be chastised and taught to be good, don't they Amanda?" "Yes Adrian they do." "And you've been very naughty with your thoughts and your breasts and your pussy haven't you?" "I have." "That means Amanda that you have to be punished. How should I punish you do you think?" "I don't know, I've never been punished like this before." "Then you should think deeper little girl and tell Adrian what you think he should do to help you and punish you at the same time." I looked into his eyes, then meaningfully down to his crotch and then back into his eyes which were very alive and gleaming. "I think you should spank me," I whispered to him. "Where Amanda, where should I spank you?" "On my bottom, you should spank me on my bottom." His voice thick with arousal he said. "Yes, yes Amanda I will spank your bottom. Go and stand behind that chair. I did as he said. "Hold the back of it with both hands." I did. "Move backwards a little." I shuffled back a foot or so. "Now Amanda you have to bend forward." I did. "Further Amanda,, further." I leaned further forward just as I had in front of the mirror upstairs. To and then past forty five degrees. "Further Amanda further." I knew that from where he was standing behind me he'd now be able to see my stocking tops. As I obeyed his latest order and bent forward until my upper body was almost at ninety degrees to my lower body and legs, I knew that he'd be seeing the patch of skin above the stockings. "Rest your head on your hands on the back of the chair Amanda." As I did that I knew the short, kilt-like skirt would ride further up my legs. He'd now be able to see all of my straightened, slightly parted legs, the seamed, white lacy topped stockings, the skin above them and, probably the lower part of my bottom clad in the pink, net panties that probably now were soaked. Again he made me wait. Again he said nothing. Again he walked round me inspecting my body from all angles. And again my body and mind were consumed by sexual sensations and thoughts. As he walked past my face I could see the outline of his erection, which really was like the proverbial flagpole under the silk dressing gown. As he moved so the edges of the robe would open and I'd see expanses of his bare legs. As he stood before me I saw that the waist of the robe had loosened a little under the tie and the lapels were wider apart showing more of his chest. The waiting, the anticipation, Adrian staring at my legs and bottom and me looking at him combined marvellously to arouse me to a level I'd don't think I'd been at before, without at least being touched. But still Adrian hadn't touched me. And that I guessed was also part of the ritual. He knew what I wanted and knew that making me wait would make me want it even more. And he was absolutely correct. Naturally, since we'd agreed to do this a few days ago, I'd had some doubts and concerns. Getting ready and travelling here I hadn't been totally sure about it. And when changing into the young girl's clothes and taking on that role in this dimly lit basement room there was, inevitably I think, some trepidation. After all it was a very big step. But everything he'd done so far, all the deeds and the words gave me more and more assurance that what I'd agreed to was right for me. I was starting to appreciate all the trappings. The slow build up. The stripping away, albeit only temporarily, of my own personality, even my age. The staring and the lack of fervid activity. The way the cane hung from the table. The gradual exposure of the epicentre of what this was all about, my bottom, and the way he so evidently displayed his appreciation to me. They were all details. Small parts of the whole thing. Small maybe but each in their way essential to the performance we were enacting. And then another action that was small in some ways but gargantuan in others took place. Adrian stood behind and just to one side of me. He stood very close, almost touching my hip. Almost but not quite. I couldn't see what he was doing but then I felt the lightest of pressure on the short skirt. The gentlest of touches that was almost imperceptible. But without doubt I knew that he was touching the skirt. And then I felt it being lifted. Felt it by the weight being lifted from my bottom and by the very slight touch of the cool air on the backs of my thighs. I'm not at all sure that I have the composing and describing skills to put into words what I felt. What I felt as I realised for sure he was lifting my skirt up and away from my bum. As he lifted it then pulled it over the curves of my bottom. As he rolled it up so it was bunched round my waist. As he exposed my bottom to his gaze. My bottom that was covered in just the tight, diaphanous material. The pink, see through net panties. The gossamer like knickers that I knew hid nothing of me at all. It Doesn't Have to be Spontaneous Ch. 02 I could feel the thudding of my heart, the racing of my pulses and the panting of my breathing as I knew his gaze would be taking in every detail. The waistband of the panties that ran from hip to hip. The thin skirt bunched above that. The stretched material showing the deep crevice between my slightly opened cheeks. And of course the plumpness of my blood engorged lips that would be glistening with my female secretions. All of my most private and personal places were under his scrutiny. The merest touch, a slight more excitement, a gesture or a light caress would have been enough to have made me cum, so emotionally aroused was I playing my full part in the ceremony. But of course he knew exactly what he was doing. After all he'd written the script. So he didn't touch or caress me but once more made me wait as he stared. It really is the most excruciatingly pleasurable, but at the same time, enormously frustrating thing. To be wanting something to happen and to know that it's going to, but for it to be continually delayed. It was so atmosphere building, so mood creating and so integral to everything else that I realised it was the perfect way to prepare me. I jumped with surprise when he spoke. It seemed to have been ages since either of us had said anything. But then we'd both got so many other things on our minds that there wasn't room for talking as well. So the words would have been a surprise in any case. They'd have given me a jolt what ever they were. But when I heard him calmly and slowly though a little hoarsely say. "I'm going to pull your panties down Amanda," I nearly fainted with the surge of sexual excitement that gave me. "Oh my God," I gasped. "Yes Adrian, yes." "Yes Adrian what?" He asked his fingers sliding just inside the elastic of the waist band. "Take my panties down, please Adrian take them down," I heard myself pleading, even though I could hardly believe what I was saying. "Yes Amanda your panties have to come down so I can spank your bare bottom, don't they?" "Yes, oh yes," I groaned as I felt him slowly rolling them down. Rolling them down the flat part of the back of my waist, over the bulbousness of my hips, and onto and then over the roundness of the cheeks of my bottom. They were half way down my cheeks meaning that half the crease between them would now be bared meaning that the entrance to my anus would also be bare. I was shivering with expectancy, sexual desire and the anticipation of my first spanking. "You have a glorious arse Amanda," he said as he ran his fingertips over it. "Just think how beautiful it will be when I've spanked it and it's all warm and stinging and, of course, red. Can you imagine it Amanda?" "Yes Adrian I can." He stroked and softly caressed all over each cheek running his fingers between them, hovering by and then pressing fairly firmly right on my bum hole. That made me grunt and I squirmed a little fearing he was going to slip his finger inside me. I didn't want that, it would just be too much and would, without doubt, make me cum. He tugged them a little more so that the waist band was now beneath the bottom of each cheek a little way down my thighs. I could feel the gusset sticking to me and knew that the wetness would cause that. I also knew that now everything I had was exposed to his wonderfully lustful gaze. I visualised the view he had of me. My opened legs in the white, lacy-topped, seamed stockings. My breasts were hanging down, their weight pressing the meaty flesh against the thin, worn cotton. The plaid skirt bunched around my waist and my body bent at ninety degrees at the waist. My bum, my cheeks, my anal entry and my wet lips were all there for him to see. "It's time Amanda," he said slowly and quietly sending a chill through me. I was scared yet so excited as he went on. "Stand up, but make sure your panties stay exactly where they are." I did as he asked not understanding why he wanted the panties to be half way down my thighs, as opposed to off my legs completely. He walked round the chair and sat on it. Signalling to me to stand next to him he said very thickly. "Lie across my knees Amanda, I need you across my lap." I looked from his face to the bulge in his dressing gown that was now almost open and then to his lap. I had thought he'd have started spanking me when I was standing up bent over but then I saw that being "put across his knee" was all part of the process, the ritual and the ceremony. Almost kneeling and resting my hand on his silk covered leg to help me balance I lowered myself down across his lap. His knees pressed into my waist just beneath my breasts, although the side of the uppermost leg, his left, was pressing into the bottoms of them. I reached one of my arms out before me and downwards and managed to grip the leg of the chair just as once more he went through the slow motion movement of raising my skirt up to bare my bottom. We were so near now. I knew it and he did as well. I could feel the tension in both our bodies as he again stroked my buttocks sending shudders of pleasure and excitement through me. My bottom has always been fairly sensitive but I'd never realised just how much until now. There was no warning. He gave no hint. There was no sign that we had begun. There was no indication that my "punishment" was underway. He didn't tell me that he was going to smack me. He did nothing to warn me that he was starting to spank me. I didn't hear anything and of course I couldn't see or feel anything. Again it was the sound that made the most immediate impact on me. Thwack, I heard, before I felt anything. Smack rang in my ear before any feelings. He hit me twice in quick succession once on each cheek. I was still hearing the sounds of the two smacks when he stopped and gently ran his fingertips over where the blows had landed. As the stinging started, so he rubbed each cheek a little harder. As he did that, so the relatively modest pain coincided with the rather nice sensations his hands were producing on my bottom. I was just getting used to his caresses when again, with no warning, I heard the thwack and felt the pain. It was a little more acute this time. There was also more smacks, five, six, seven, I counted. And I felt that they were harder, firmer and quicker. They made me cry out with pain. I squirmed on his lap. I moaned and grunted as the smacks landed all over my cheeks and the tops of my thighs. It seemed as though he was carefully deciding where to hit me, for by now every part of my buttocks had been smacked. I was hurting, everywhere was burning and stinging, I was in pain and beginning to worry that corporal punishment was not for me. I thought that I might start to cry. There was no pleasure, I was starting to think, just discomfort. But then, just as a few sobs escaped from my lips, he stopped. Again I felt his hands so gently and softly running over the places where he'd just been spanking me. The combination of the sensations I'd been gaining from being hurt with those he was now giving were unique in my experience. Heat, softness, stinging, tenderness, pain, excitement, anticipation, concern and pleasure were all rushing through me. I'd never experienced so many differing emotions and sensations at the same time. I was now squirming and moving my body for other reasons. For reasons that were all to do with arousal, and strong sexual arousal at that. But the sexual arousal was not merely coming from his fingers that were softly roaming all over my bottom. No, I wasn't becoming hugely turned on just by his caresses. It was also, actually mostly I think, the thrills I'd got from the spanking. The emotions I felt from being under his control. The sensations I gained from being held captive-like over his lap together with the fervid anticipation of more to come. Yes, all that combined with his sublimely, tender touch, were building up, what I was certain would be a most massive orgasm. The rather orderly position we'd started in had changed. His legs had opened and the gown had fallen away from them. My squirming and movements had flipped some of the buttons undone on the blouse. His caresses were no longer being restricted to my thighs and bottom but were now covering my back and neck and head as well. He'd pushed the blouse up at the back so that was bunched around my shoulders. My left side, just above my waist, was pressed firmly against his erection or, I suddenly thought, was his erection pressed firmly against my side? And one of my breasts had slipped out from the blouse. More blows, more thwacks, more smacks and spanks. More stinging and warmth, more pain and tingling. More caresses, more excitement, more anticipation and yet even more pleasure. His gown had fallen open. My breasts were dangling down alongside his leg the naked skin of both rubbing together. His penis was bare. It was rock hard, hot and pressed against me just beneath my boobs. It felt glorious and I squirmed eagerly against it. Alternating the cheeks and the positions on my bottom that he smacked, Adrian continued my induction into corporal punishment in the most wonderful way for some time. Ten minutes, twenty or half an hour? I had no idea. Time along with everything else other than the magnificence of the feelings and the sensations ceased to exist. I was now cumming; cumming continuously. It wasn't one of those orgasms that, like a firework rocket, explodes into being, roars up and then dies. This was different to that. Different to any orgasm I'd had before. Of course there were all the similar feelings; tingling everywhere, warmth rushing from my pussy to every part of my body, heaviness in my breasts and a searing ache in my nipples. It was all those and more. Each sensation was accentuated. It was as if I was on a mind expanding, acid-like drug. And it just went on and on and on. There was no peak or crescendo, simply a steady, fast flowing, stream of emotions and sensations that kept me at the very pinnacle of sexual arousal. But now things were nowhere near as organised and orderly as earlier. They couldn't be, it would just not be possible for the two of us, as excited as we'd made each other, to continue in that fashion. Although Adrian continued smacking me it was less powerful now. He'd done his job and he now had less enthusiasm for continuing to spank me. He'd administer the occasional blow but it seemed as if that was more because it was expected than because it was necessary. He'd also softly stroke and sooth the spanked places that I couldn't see but I guessed were red and inflamed. Again, though, this wasn't with the vigour and keenness of the early stages of my "punishment and pleasure." No, we now had other things on our mind, other things to do, other pleasures to gain to add to the massive amount we'd so far given each other. His gown was completely open. My blouse was also completely open. My breasts were completely bare. His cock was also completely bare. Adrian's hands were everywhere; in my hair, over my face and up and down my back. I was pulling his fingers into my mouth and sucking them just as I wanted to suck his cock. He was caressing and squeezing my breasts and nipples and stroking my neck. His fingers were on my bottom, between my cheeks, up and down my thighs and, mostly, buried deep in my cunt. I was slobbering and moaning as I rubbed his cock all over my tits and face. I was desperately trying to suck him, but our positions wouldn't permit that, so I started to wank him. I started wanking him. I wanked him by pumping my hand up and down taking the skin on his cock with it. I provided him with a surrogate cunt and felt such delight as is hips started to surge, as much as our positions would allow, as he started to fuck that. "Oh God yes, yes, yes Adrian," I groaned and moaned and wailed as my orgasm erupted. "Yes darling yes, cum for me, cum with me, make me cum," he grunted, thrusting his cock up in my hand that was gripping it, probably a little too firmly. I pumped quickly. Fast and furious with little thought for subtlety or sexual guile. What we both now so badly needed was to cum. There would be time later on for the more tender aspects of this amazingly different sexual experience. I was grinding my pussy against the several fingers that he was now holding rigid inside me. At the same time I was pushing my breasts against his other hand squirming every last ounce of pleasure from my aching nipples that he was pinching and pulling, wonderfully hard. You can always feel the moment when a man starts to cum. Well you can if you're holding his dick in your hand. It seems to harden even more and go rigid. It starts to throb and becomes warmer and then, of course it explodes with the surge of semen flowing up the tubes inside the bloated, blood engorged flesh. And that's exactly what happened as I lay across Adrian's lap my clothes in total disarray, my breasts bare, my knickers around my thighs, my legs open and three or four of his fingers pumping in and out of my pussy. I was lying half on my side holding his erection so that it was a few inches from my chin. So close, but too far and too awkward to get in my mouth. As I climaxed uncontrollably, so suddenly his cock erupted. Spunk shot everywhere. It hit me in the eyes and splattered across my face and in my hair. Stream after stream of it shot across my head, shoulders and chest. I'd never experienced such an ejaculation and somehow that made me feel proud and even more excited. We lay like that for a moment or two as our minds and bodies recovered, somewhat. But the awkwardness of our positions, and the now quiet severe stinging on my bottom and thighs, made it impossible to remain like that. "Come, darling," he whispered lifting me off his lap so that I knelt bedside him as he stood up, the dressing gown slipping off and staying on the chair. "Let me ease the pain." Adrian lifted me up and sat me on the edge of the bed. He held my face in his hands and gently kissed my lips. "You did enjoy it didn't you Amanda?" I smiled up at him. "Yes Adrian I did, it was er, amazing I suppose." "Are you in much pain?" he enquired, his hand slipping down my face until his fingernails could trail across my chest above my breasts. "It does smart and sting, but it's bearable?" I replied moving my bottom from one cheek to the other as I saw his cock, that was just inches from my face twitch a couple of times, presumably in preparation for starting to become erect. "That'll soon go away. I'll get rid that for you my darling, just wait a minute." He left me, and walked through the door beside the bed. It was obviously a bath room for I heard the water running. He came back. "Your bath will soon be ready, but first I need to put some lotion on your bottom Mands, so could you lie on your front on the bed please?" Lying full length on the silk or satin sheets was very pleasant. I love the feel of silk on my body. It's so lustrous, cool, smooth and, somehow, almost decadent. And those feelings began to push the pain of my bottom to one side a little. It was still there, of course, but now other sensations were combining with that. I turned my head to one side to look at Adrian as he gently slid the remains of the panties down my legs and then, one by one unbuckled my strappy shoes and removed them. He was half erect, his penis in that rather awkward and faintly ridiculous looking position of sticking nearly straight out from his body and horizontal to the ground. It did look good, though, and the thought that I could so quickly excite him also excited me. He carefully rolled the stockings down my legs and off my feet, so that I was now completely naked, the coolness of the silk caressing every inch of my body. It felt good as did his hands on my ankles easing my legs apart. He'd earlier placed the two bottles from the table at the other end of the room, on the floor beside the bed. He sat beside me his bottom touching my knee. He poured a lotion from one bottle onto the cheeks of my bottom. It stung at first but only momentarily, and was then replaced by a wonderful coolness, similar but more intense to what the front of my body was receiving from the silk sheets. "Nice?" he grunted thickly. "Mmmmmm," I sighed in reply, loving the feelings of his soft, office worker fingertips spreading the thick lotion all over each cheek and upper thigh. I closed my eyes and gave into yet another amazing combination of sensations; yet another new experience; yet another instalment of this incredible sexual practice. Yes, yet another stage of the ceremony, and yet another example of the ritual that was called corporal punishment, but in my mind, was simply having your bum spanked. Smoothing the cool liquid into me, his fingers on both hands visited every part of me between my waist and upper thighs. They visited, touched, stroked and eased the liquid into each cheek, between them, along the crease of my bottom, over my anal hole, around the, now, throbbing, lips of my pussy and down and around my thighs. It was lovely, and slowly the sensations provided by Adrian's fingers and the lotion became more powerful than the lingering tingling, smarting, stinging pain from the spanking. It didn't remove those feelings but linked with them to provide even more new sensations and experiences for me. I started to "sort of cum" is the only way I can describe the emotions. A sort of cum; a type of orgasm, a nearly climax. That's all I can really say about the feelings that were reverberating around my body as my lover so gently caressed me. They were the only descriptive passages I have for the sensations that were oozing from my bottom, all over my body as the man that had spanked it now soothed it. As he replaced the pain he'd given me earlier with the gentleness of his current cure. Yes as Adrian introduced me to yet another element of the spanking process. "Now my darling, I bathe you," he said helping me up. The bathroom was large and surprisingly airy considering the lack of windows. Everything was white, chrome or glass. From the tiles, which were wonderfully warm from the under-floor heating, to the kidney shaped, sunken bath in the corner that looked as if it could easily accommodate six people. From the paintwork and the gleaming bathroom appliances, to the fittings and the large, corner wardrobe unit with floor to ceiling mirrored doors. Although the bath was half full with a bluish coloured water that clearly contained oils and spices, he didn't lead me there. Instead, his hand coaxed me into the corner of the room by the wardrobes. The corner covered by mirrors, the corner where I'd be able to view myself from all angles. Yes, the corner where I'd be able to see my back, where I'd be able to see my bum where, I realised with a shudder as we covered the few feet, I'd see the trophy marks of my spanking. I could hardly believe what I saw. And more so, I could hardly believe what I felt emotionally. It hadn't been long since I'd returned from Crete where I'd got a lovely tan. I'd been able to sunbathe topless there, so my only "white bits" were a small patch of skin just above my pubes that were quite heavily trimmed at the time and the rather larger patches on each cheek. Well they had been white. But now, from the height of the curve of each buttock down to beneath where my bum became my thighs, there was a sea of pink and redness. Some patches were deeper coloured and looked fiercer than others, and across my left cheek there was the outline of a palm and fingers. From a pain point of view it actually looked far worse than it felt. "See, my darling," Adrian murmured putting one arm around my shoulders and running the backs of his fingernails on his other hand across the redness, "they are our memories." It Doesn't Have to be Spontaneous Ch. 02 "Jesus Ade, I never thought they'd be so obvious." "Well you're not planning to flash your bum at anyone for a while are you?" he laughed back his hand stroking me his erection now as good as full. I let my hand fall to my side my fingers encircling his erection. "Oh you never know," I joked feeling quite excited at the extraordinary sight in the mirror. "Ah Mandy you see, that's the reward for the spanking master, his pupil can go with no one else without them knowing." He helped me into the low bath, the warm, sweet-smelling water seeming to ease the stinging of my bottom almost immediately. I laid back, just my hardened nipples, my pubes and my toes above the water, my back against the enamel of the bath that, amazingly, was warm. I realised that he must have some form of heated bath enamel that allowed one to lean back without that chilly feeling. He took a large, soft sponge and covered that with some sweet smelling liquid soap. He worked that all over my body, naturally I suppose and very welcomingly I know, concentrating on and between my breasts, the thatch on my mound and the top of my thighs that he'd gently and so easily coaxed open. At the same time, he was leaning over the bath kissing and licking my face and neck and gently sucking my lips into his mouth. The sexual feelings from the sponge, the tender and caring sensations from his lips and tongue and the stinging and smarting that were the reminders of my spanking all combined into a delicious cocktail of feelings that, of course made me cum. It wasn't just those actions I realised, however, as the main force of the orgasm subsided, for then I found that he'd shoved most of the large, soft sponge right up my cunt. "Now my darling," Adrian whispered as he removed the sponge from inside me, washed away my juices and gently kissed me, "it's time for me to bathe your bottom. Would you like that?" "Yes, Adrian, yes I would," I sighed, our faces just inches apart. "You want me to bathe your bottom, don't you?" "Yes, yes please," I whispered, as once more I fell in line with the ritualistic requirements of the spanking ceremony. It's as near impossible as makes no difference to lie on one's front in a bath without risking drowning. That's why, within just a few seconds, I was kneeling on all fours. My hair, wet from earlier, was hanging down over my face, my breasts were falling free straight down from my chest, my arms were supporting me, my legs were slightly open and I was in the classic "doggy" position. The position that seems to be the favourite sexual position of so many men. The one where I have so often being fucked from behind gaining such pleasure and sensations from the depth of the penetration that the "doggy" enables. This time though I wasn't about to be fucked. No, this time I was about to watch in the mirrors on three sides of the bath, as my corporal punishment lover washed away the trophy marks that were the outcome of our earlier spanking. Both cheeks were now less red. Pink, I thought, not the earlier crimson. The marks, though pronounced on each cheek and both thighs, were not as fierce as earlier. Too pronounced, though, I recognised, for anyone in such a position to be able to comfortably take another lover without providing some, probably, hugely embarrassing explanations. "The master's way," I thought, "of controlling his naughty pupil." The preparation was very similar, as was the clothing, although, the outer garments were slightly more schoolgirlish. The getting dressed at Adrian's house alone, the clothes hanging up waiting, the mirror there for me to look at myself, the walk to the basement and the layout and furniture of that room were all replicable of the last time, my first time, my initiation into the world of spanking. He was there, but, again, he spoke only to ask me to stand by the chair. I did as asked as, three weeks after my "initiation," we prepared for our second spanking session. It was then that I saw the difference, the surprise he'd referred to over the phone when he was in Rome earlier this week. "Your bot's beautifully healed up now," he'd said running his fingertips across it as I'd laid naked, apart from a pair of black, seamed, fishnet hold-ups, on my bed after we'd made love one afternoon. "We'll have to make a date in the basement again soon Mands., won't we?" he'd gone on his finger pressing right on my anal opening. "Yes I grunted," the feelings from his finger getting to me. "I think your bum's ready darling don't you?" he'd asked applying a little more pressure, but more as an enquiry than a demand. "Yes. Yes I think it is," I said not moving as he pressed just a little harder. "So darling," he said, very thickly I thought as his fingertip slipped just inside that puckered ring of darkish skin, "your body is ready, is your mind?" His finger was just inside my anus sending such beautiful feelings through me. I knew, though, that he would go no further without some sign from me, for he was very aware that I didn't have a completely, open acceptance of anal sex. Not on moral grounds, purely the physical and pain issues I share with many women who've given birth. His words were, I thought, a little odd, but as my mind digested them they made sense. Spanking required both a mental and physical acceptance and compliance if the whole ceremony was to work effectively. We'd talked about that aspect, along with the many other aspects a couple of times since the last time but that was only during and after sex. As with most people, I imagine, we found talking about sexual matters in non-sexual situations rather difficult. "I think I'm ready Adrian, both physically and mentally," I whispered, as I wiggled my bottom and pressed it back against his finger. "Oh yes darling, yes, yes, yes he moaned," as he began finger-fucking my arse. Those memories went through my mind as I stood in that basement, my hands clasped in front of me. I recalled them as I stood there in the short, blue, pleated skirt, tight, white, buttoned up blouse and striped tie. I felt my body respond to me thinking of him having sex with my anus as I saw the difference, the surprise, the reward, as he'd termed it over the phone from Rome. Lying across the seat of the chair was the cane. The, probably, one metre long cane that was like a miniature shepherd's crook. I shivered. I shuddered a little and I gulped at the thought of that caning my bare bottom.