6 comments/ 63236 views/ 14 favorites Sarah's Way By: kylejer This story is a continuation of "Silent Submission," but under a new title because I found there is already another series under the original title. It would be helpful to read my Silent Submission story first, but not necessary, as its story line is summarized early on here. I appreciate feedback. Let me know if you like these stories, or what didn't work for you. * I awoke late the next morning, about 8, unheard of for me, even on a sleep-in Sunday morning. Sarah was already up, absent from the bed. My backside was still very sensitive. Even friction from the soft cotton sheets hurt. With consciousness came the need to process all that had happened on Saturday. My lovely wife had caned me quite severely, and I let her do it; even made the cane for her. I still didn't know why, or why I submitted to it. Yet somehow as the day ended I felt closer to my wife of five years than I ever had before. We had some comforting times after the torture, and some hot sex. But what happened had to be addressed. I knew this, even though I also knew that one of the reasons I went through with it was to avoid having a conversation about our relationship and why she wanted to do that to me. It could have been her sexual fantasy, or mine, brought to life. It could have been punishment for wrongs real or perceived. Or both. Or whatever. But no marriage can survive with partners wondering what such an unusual event was all about. I wasn't ready to give up on my marriage. As apprehensive as I was about it, we had to talk. But I was hungry, so food was my first priority. With all the kinky sex I hadn't had supper on Saturday. I could faintly smell bacon frying. That was unusual. I was the main cook. Sarah almost never fixed breakfast, or any other meal that took actual cooking skills. I arose, put on my robe, and made for the dining room. "Good morning!" my wife beamed, with a morning attitude at bright as her long red hair. "You're just in time! I was about to come get you. I made you breakfast," she said. I looked down at the table and saw a setting with bacon, biscuits, peach preserves, coffee and orange juice -- the comfort foods of my grandmother's house. As I was looking, Sarah stepped toward me, planted a light kiss on my lips, and at the same time placed her hands at the opening of my robe, pulled it apart and slipped it off my shoulders. She smiled slightly as she folded the robe and draped it across the back of the chair at the head of the table, leaving me standing there nude. Sarah had kept me nude since my caning, at 5 p.m. the day before. I took her immediately stripping me as an obvious sign she intended to continue her dominance. I needed to talk about it before we moved on, as much as I hated those relationship talks. But I had just walked into the room and wasn't ready to talk, especially when there was a hot breakfast for me at the table and I was a hungry man. I sat down and began to eat. "Thank you for doing this," I said. "I'm really hungry." Sarah looked stunning that morning, her demeanor brighter than usual, with her beautiful, pale, freckled face seeming to beam, with a slight, enigmatic smile. Her long red hair was flowing about her shoulders, with a couple of stray strands across her face. She sat down and turned her chair sideways, stretching her feet out in front of her and crossing her legs at the ankles. My gaze ran the length of her pink robe-clad body, remembering how her big breasts swayed over my face the night before as she held down my arms and rode me. My eyes settled on her bare feet and I noticed for the first time that she must have taken time for a pedicure when she was out of the house before my caning Saturday. Sarah didn't know it, but I had something of a small foot fetish. When I see an attractive woman in sandals I always check out how she cares for her feet. Sarah's had obviously been moisturized, with any calluses sanded away. They were even lighter than the rest of her fair skin, the nails neatly trimmed and sporting a soft and inviting peach-colored polish, not the red or black one might anticipate from a woman who showed signs of being a dominatrix some hours earlier. "I figured you would be hungry" Sarah said, rubbing one foot slowly over the other as if she noticed that I checked out her pedicure. Her bright and cheerful and even nurturing attitude was in stark contrast to the woman who had paddled and caned me so severely the day before. "Did you rest well? How's your butt?" she asked. "It hurts to sit down, but I did sleep like a log," I said. "You had quite a day yesterday," she said. "By the way, I didn't get a chance to tell you. . ." Sarah rambled on about the friends she went to see and the one who just got out of the hospital, whom I knew, too, but under the circumstances I barely listened. We just had the most significant day together since our marriage. I needed to know what was next. "I'm really proud of you," Sarah said as I finished eating. "We had some nice times last night, despite the fact that I caned you pretty good." She was probing my reaction, and I knew it. "I just don't know why you did it. Or why I put up with it," I said. "Both are equal mysteries to me." "Mmmm," Sarah mused. "I think I can help you with that, Mark. I know you need answers. "Stand up," she said, standing herself. I slowly rose, still naked. "Trust me, Mark," she said pleasantly, but seriously. She lightly took my arms. "Keep your arms down at your sides. Don't touch yourself. Just do exactly as I say. Don't worry; I'm not going to hurt you." She guided me directly in front of her chair and sat back down, her bare feet crossed closer to her now. "Now, I need you to do this, Mark; don't just stand there and pretend, really do what I say and think about what I say. Now close your eyes." She took a deep breath and paused. "I want you to think about yesterday and all that happened," she began. "Think about how I met you in the living room and told you to appear there naked for a caning, and to bring me a paddle and a cane. . . "Think about how you took the time and trouble to make that wonderfully nice cane for me to use on you. . . "Think about bending over that stool and waiting for what was about to happen. . ." she paused after each line, giving me time to reflect. "Think about how unendurable it was, but how you managed to endure it. . . "Think about how I took care of you afterwards, soothed you, let you rest. . . "Think about how we snuggled and were close later, and how the passion built up. . . My cock began to stir as she went over it all. She paused for a longer time. I felt her lightly touch the side of my left leg with her toe, beginning a slow caress. "Now think about belonging to me," she went on with a sultry, sexy voice, again with a long pause as her toe continued to caress my leg. "Think about being naked when I want you naked. . . "Think about bending over when I want you to bend over. . . "Think about those moments of anticipation when you know what's going to happen to you, but you don't know why. . . "Think about having the courage to endure it, for my sake. . . The gentle caress of her lovely foot had worked its way up higher to the outside of my left thigh. "Think about being loved and cared for by me, who would value you as her most treasured possession." I opened my eyes and watched that beautiful foot tracing against my leg. I saw my cock pointing straight out at her. I looked at her face, but she did not catch my eye. She was staring directly at my horizontal cock. With that caressing foot she lightly touch the tip of my cock with her toe, then raised her eyes to meet mine. "It looks like your friend knows why you bent over for me yesterday," she said. "They say men listen to their cocks more than they listen to their wives. Think about what yours is telling you now." She kept the tip of that toe on the tip of my cock and smiled a knowing smile. Her robe had fallen open a bit from lifting her leg high. She did not move to cover herself, as the old Sarah I knew would have. My eyes ran from that beautiful toe down the length of her leg to the triangle of red hair now visible between her legs, and up to those knowing green eyes. "Run to the bathroom and get that little bottle of cucumber fragrance lotion that came in that gift pack you got me at Valentine's Day, and a hand towel," she said. I was thankful for the break to think about what she said and my body's reaction to it. I felt that knot in my stomach again and realized I had not done very well at processing all this so far. I had become putty in her hands, and sensed she knew it and was gently pressing her advantage. I returned quickly, my cock still bobbing in the air, sticking straight out. Sarah had opened her robe more, and now her breasts were exposed, allowing me to see the entire length of her body, something she used to deny me out of what I thought was annoying bashfulness. She sat up a bit and pulled her legs closer to herself, crossing her ankles under her chair. "Sit down on the floor in front of me," she said. I tried to hand her the lotion as I moved to sit down. "No, no," she said. It's for my feet. Put some on your hands and massage my feet." I sat down with my legs folded in front of me, but she had me stretch out my legs on either side of her chair, leaving me sitting on the floor with my legs spread wide. She stretched out her legs and presented her feet, which held down my throbbing cock. I started to massage her feet with the lotion, taking one at a time, then moving back and forth to be thorough with each. "You know, I've noticed how when we go out someplace and some pretty woman walks by with sandals or barefoot, you always look down at her feet. And if she has really nice feet, you keep watching as much as you can until she goes by. Now, I would say you might have a foot fetish. That's great if you do. I love having my feet rubbed. I had them done up nice so you would feel better about worshiping them," she said. "I don't know if I would call it a fetish. But I do appreciate a nice pair of feet on a woman and take notice," I admitted. "Your feet are really lovely this morning." "Why, thank you," Sarah said. "You usually don't complement me like that." After concentrating on her ankles, which she always loved whenever I gave her a foot massage, I spread more lotion on the bottoms of her feet, which were smooth and soft after her pedicure. I worked my thumbs back and forth. "That feels very nice," she said. "Thank you." I reached lower and pressed my cock up against the soles of her feet. "Go ahead, put some lotion on your cock and massage the bottom of my feet with it," Sarah invited. It felt fantastic. I appreciated pretty feet, but never thought about making love to them; I couldn't imagine how it was done. But the feel of the lotion, the skin of her soles and the sight of her lovely feet was getting me more and more turned on. I sensed she knew all along that it would. Soon, she pushed my hands away with her feet, then cupped my cock between her arches. "Squirt a little lotion in there," she said. I did, then leaned back, bracing myself with my now idle arms behind me, then watched as she started to stroke my member with her insteps. She held my cock between her toes, pressed it against the top of one foot with the toes of the other, held it back against my belly with one foot, then slowly stroked its underside with the toes of the other. I was getting my first foot job, and was in absolute heaven watching and feeling it. Soon, she started paying attention to my balls, lightly massaging them with her toes. "To be honest, I've always had a bit of a fetish about men's balls," she said. "I'm fascinated with those sensitive little glands hanging outside your body where anyone can get at them. I think I'm going to have some fun playing with yours." I wasn't sure I liked the sound of that, but at that moment I was concentrating on the sensuality of a foot job. I didn't know my wife could be so sensual -- or so cruel, as I considered the contrast between this and the caning on Saturday. She became more aggressive with my nuts, kneading them with the balls of her feet. It didn't hurt yet, but made me fidgety, even as the massaging of my cock brought me closer to eruption. "Hold still," she whispered. She pushed my cock back against my belly with her right foot, stroking it up and down, still lubricated by the generous amount of lotion. Her left foot pressed my balls against the floor. She rolled them back and forth and seemed to try to feel each one independently with her toes. It started to hurt, and I groaned. She became more forceful, at the same time she quickened the pace on my cock. I looked at those feet that turned me on so much, even when I first saw them that morning, looked up her smooth, fair legs to her red bush; her midsection that carried those few extra pounds that I actually liked; up to her big, inviting breasts, and to the emerald eyes focused on what she was doing to me. I realized that at that moment I desired, more than I ever had before, this beautiful woman who had caned me so severely just a day ago. Meanwhile, her left foot pressed ever harder onto my balls as her right foot masturbated me. My manhood was beneath the soles of her feet, giving me both pain and pleasure. "Ahhhhh!" I screamed/shouted/moaned, not knowing if it was a cry of ecstasy or agony. She sensed my orgasm was starting to build, so she stopped the kneading of my hurting balls and just gently put pressure on them. That intensified the eruption that shot my semen clear to the underside of my chin, after I threw my head back and cried out. "Ahhhh! Ahhhh! Ahhhh!" After catching my breath, I picked up the hand towel and cleaned her feet first, then my entire belly and chest and chin, and the drops that clung to my cock, which was starting to deflate. She lifted it with the tip of her toe. "He's shown you how he feels about belonging to me," she said. "Will you show me how you feel?" She raised her right foot up and presented it to me. I took her foot and kissed it, looking up at her eyes. She looked down on me and smiled. Unbidden, I picked up her left foot and kissed it, too. Her smile broadened, even more as I flicked my tongue along her toes. "Go jump in the shower, while I clean up from breakfast," she said. I stood up and was about to walk off and do as I was told, but I turned and looked at her. Putting my arms around her, I pulled her close and kissed her tenderly on the lips. I wasn't sure that she would allow it, under the circumstances, but it was important to me. She accepted my kiss. "I love you," I said. "I know," she replied. "I love you, too. Now do as I said." "What have I done?" I thought to myself as I stood under the hot cascading water. I had assented, by gesture rather than words, that I would belong to Sarah -- be owned be her. Submit to her way, and at that point I had little information about what Sarah's way would be like. So far, it had been filled with both intense pain and intense pleasure. Perhaps that was enough for me. I bent over for my caning on Saturday because I wanted to, she had shown me. That thought scared me. There was no sense denying that I had kissed her feet in assent for the same reason. But what did that mean? I bore the caning, but had read enough BDSM stories to know I might have agreed to something I really didn't want. I couldn't be a 24-7 lifestyle submissive like the fictional ones in stories I had read. I couldn't accept a relationship in which I was hung by my arms for hours at a time with nipple clamps tormenting me while a party of strangers laughed at me and took turns flogging me. But I trusted that that's not what Sarah had in mind. We really did have a nice night together after I submitted to her caning. And this morning had been fantastic, from a sensual standpoint. But what would be her rules? Did I really want a wife who set all the rules? As if to keep me from thinking about it too much (was that really her strategy?), Sarah suddenly entered the bathroom, pulled off her robe, and opened the shower door. She was gloriously naked. For five years now I had wished she would open up and lose her inhibitions. Now she seemed to have lost them, as long as she was in charge. "I'm going to join you!" she said cheerfully. She stepped into the shower with me just as I had finished washing myself. "This is my soap," she said, picking up from her soap tray the scented bar she bought at some fancy boutique. She handed it to me. "Don't do my hair or my face; I need to take care of that myself, but do a good job of washing the rest of me," she said. I took it as an order, even though it was said in a friendly tone that did not come across as an order. I had never stopped loving her, even during those recent months when resentment and disappointment ruled our relationship. I had never stopped loving her body, which she used to fear wasn't worthy of my worship. But now here was my beautiful wife naked for me, inviting me to run my hands all over her. She was a master -- a mistress -- at giving me what I so longed for, after I paid with my obedience and submission to her wants. I rubbed the bar first between her breasts, then circled them both, ran the bar over them several times, then across her belly before putting it down. I started to rub the soap into her skin, lifting her breasts and working the soap underneath, feeling her erect nipples rub against my palms. . . "I want you to wash me, not fondle me," she admonished. I reached around her back with the soap, down to her butt cheeks, then back around in front. "My legs first," she said before I touched her pussy. I thoroughly washed one at a time as she lifted them up for me, concentrating on cleaning those perfect feet. Then I covered my hands in soap and cupped her sex. She taught me how to wash her there, then turned around and bent over. "Now the other side," she said. I ran the bar of soap between her butt cheeks. "You'll want to wash me really, really good there," she said, spreading her cheeks on her own. I ran my hand deep between her crack and soaped up her butt hole. She asked me to do it again, and when I mistook her urging for permission to go on sexually, she stopped me. "No, I don't want your finger up my ass. You're bathing me, not fingering me." After I made sure her entire body was well rinsed, she pushed down on the tops of my shoulders to have me kneel, turned off the water and raised her left leg to the edge of the tub. Her hand pulled my head forward, but I knew what she wanted, and began to lick her honey pot, still sweet with her moisture, showing that she had been aroused by the foot job experience, too. "That's OK, just a little," she soon stopped me, then turned around and bent over. "Now the other side," she said. Surely, she didn't. . . "I've always wondered what it would be like to have a man lick me there," she said, spreading her cheeks for me. "You get to be the first." I complied. I ran my tongue the length of her butt crack, replaced her hands with mine in keeping her spread, then went deeper. Tentatively, I touched the tip of my tongue to her asshole. "Ohhhhhhh!"she exclaimed on first feeling the sensation. I couldn't bear yet to aggressively lick her there, as I could do to her pussy, so I continued to touch and brush the very tip of my tongue around the puckered opening. "Oh my god!" she exclaimed. "That feels fantastic! I can't believe it! What an odd and totally hot sensation!" Sarah's Way Ch. 02 Note: This is actually the third chapter in this series. The first chapter was called "Silent Submission." The title was changed because there are other series with that old title. I realize this relationship is different than what actually takes place among people devoted to the BDSM lifestyle, but it's a theme I wanted to explore. * It was coming up on a week since the initial caning that marked the beginning of Sarah's dominance of me. In the back of my mind was the realization that sooner or later she would go back there. Both the cane and the paddle were readily available in the bedroom. I didn't know if she would spank me again because she enjoyed it, or thought I did, but I was certain that she would do so if I made her angry. And in any marriage you irritate one another from time to time. Oddly, the fact that she had caned me so severely and also made my balls ache by crushing them under her foot did not irritate me, but seemed to draw me closer to her in a way I did not understand. What irritated me was not being able to ask her why she did certain things, even simple things like having me get naked for dinner. She made clear in those first few days that I was not to expect her to explain what she was thinking. I was to just obey, and she would take good care of me. And she had. She seemed to take a greater interest in what was going on in my office and progress in my hobbies, and was generally more affectionate and supportive. But I knew another caning was coming. I wasn't sure how I would react. I didn't know why she was caning me the first time, and didn't know why I submitted. Would I be so compliant if I knew I was being punished but thought the punishment was undeserved? I knew I would submit, but wondered if at that point her dominance would begin to irritate me instead of turn me on. Then what? The situation didn't take long to play out. It was Friday, a day short of a week since that first caning, and I had recovered pretty well. She told me that morning that after supper she would be running to the mall to shop for a birthday present for her mom, and I would be on my own. We had decided not to go out to eat. We just had a couple of sandwiches at home and were cleaning up when she asked, "So what are you going to do tonight?" "I thought I'd get the tackle box cleaned up and clean my reels. Spring is about here, and I'm getting pumped for fishing season to start." "Why don't you go to the 'Y'?" she said. "You were spending a lot of time there through most of the winter, and I could see the results. You were getting in better shape, but you haven't been there in almost a month. You're going to lose what you gained." The YMCA membership came as an unexpected benefit from my employer and I had taken advantage of it. It had become a very minor issue between us because I had been urging her to come along with me, as I thought it was something we could do together, and we had been growing apart. Now, I love my wife's body, even those few extra pounds that to me give her a feel of authenticity, a real woman and not some unreachable supermodel obsessed with thinness. My appeals to her to come along were honestly in the search for ways to spend some time together, not to suggest she needed to work off the pounds. But to go back to that appeal post-caning, under life Sarah's way, was a major mistake. "Well, I wish you would come with me," I said. "I'll admit I got a little lazy lately, but one of the reasons I was going there so much was in hopes of drawing you in to go with me. When you wouldn't come along I started to lose interest. I know I was getting in better shape, but you could stand to get in better shape, too." I heard her gasp behind me after I said that, as I was placing some dishes in the dishwasher. When I turned to look at her, I saw her mouth open in disbelief, her face reddening to match her hair and her green eyes widening in anger. "Take. Off. Your. Clothes!" she said, very deliberately, emphasizing each word. In anticipation of leaving me alone for the evening, she had not had me undress, as she did at some point every night. "Sarah, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I was just encouraging you to come with me sometime so we can spend. . ." "Take off your clothes! Right now, right where you stand! Leave them in a pile right here, then go get your paddle!" "Sa------." I started to say her name to make another appeal that nothing was meant by that comment -- and nothing was. But I realized quickly that my choices were to make this the critical issue and try to end this dominance and submission game over it, or to comply as ordered. To try to talk her out of it would only make things worse if I was going to ultimately comply anyway. Still dressed for work, I pulled off my tie and started fumbling with the buttons on my shirt. I had made a commitment. I had agreed that I would belong to her. It brought me some painful, embarrassing and even some disgusting moments, but it also brought us closer. I didn't want to go back to the way things were. I peeled off my undershirt and started to fiddle with my belt before realizing I would have to deal with my shoes first. I bent to take them off, peeling off my socks while I was at it, then dropped my pants and stepped out of them. I still had not looked at her as I yanked down my underwear, and turned and walked away naked, my clothes in a pile on the floor where I stood, as ordered. She did not request the stool or the cane, so I did not bring them, only the paddle. I found her sitting in the center of the sofa, glaring at me as I returned, with an angry and hurt look on her face. "Here," she said. "Over my knees." She snatched the paddle from me. "I'm so sorry, Sarah. I didn't mean anything by that," I said as I assumed a position across my wife's knees, my hands in front of me on the floor. "I only wanted to find a way to spend more time together!" It all happened so quickly. We had a simple but pleasant bite to eat together and were chatting about evening plans. Suddenly, in less than two minutes, I was naked and across her knees about to receive a paddling I suspected would be severe. I could not remember how young I was the last time I was taken over my mother's knee. Even then, she never used a paddle. Then, like now, the worst part was not the pain or the anticipation of it. It was the fact that, fair or not, you had to let her do it. Sarah said not a word in reply to my pleadings, but shut me up with the first hard blow. She was not going to warm me up slowly at first as she had less than a week before. She started out fast and furious, each blow at full force, and in rapid succession. "Owwwww!"I shouted at the first one. Instinct started my hands back, but I quickly repented of that thought. Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!" "How dare you speak to me that way!" she broke her silence. "I cannot have you talk to me like that, Mark, and I won't! That is so insulting! To think that you would even think of saying such a thing to me! I am so disappointed in you!" Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!" It went on and on. I cried out. My legs kicked back and forth in the air; my butt squirmed as if looking for a way off her knees and out of harm's way. "Hold still!" Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!" "I'm sorrrrrrrry! Pleeeeeease stop! Sarah! Please!" I was crying by then. The pain just wouldn't end. She suddenly stopped. "I can't allow this, Mark," she said after a pause, as if searching for something to say. I realized she stopped not for me, but for her, to rest her arm and catch her breath. I was about to fill the void with more pleadings, hoping to end it, but before I could get a word out, she resumed. Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!" Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!" When she got tired again, she stopped. "Get up!" Sarah said calmly but sternly. She stood up with me, then grabbed my nuts hard. I tried to pull away by bending at the waist in the instinctive male protective move, but she had them firm and hard. She pulled back as I tried to pull away and the pain shot through me. She started to walk away, and I followed to keep pressure off my package. I was led by my balls to a corner of the room and forced to my knees. She disappeared momentarily and came back with a box of tissues, which she threw in front of me. I reached for them immediately, wiping and blowing my nose, as she went away again. I didn't have much time to clean up from my paddling-induced crying. She returned from the kitchen with my tie. She pulled my hands behind me and tied them at the wrist. "This is to keep you from touching yourself while you kneel here with your ass bright red like some sort of room decoration," Sarah said. "Since obviously being spanked turns you on, I don't want you to get the idea that you were spanked to give you any pleasure." She finished tying my hands, then moved forward, on one knee beside me, resting her right hand on my back. I was still avoiding looking at her. "Now, Mark, I spanked you because I'm angry with you, to punish you for what you said. You said you're sorry, but that's not good enough. If you want things to be right between us again, then you have to think of a way to make it right, to show how much you regret what you've done and to show that you really want to make things right for me." And so I knelt facing the corner, like a spanked little boy, only with my hands tied behind me with my own necktie and my cock mysteriously pointed at the corner. It went down before too long. So did the lingering pain, in my ass and my balls. Sarah got ready to leave on her excursion. I feared she would order me to remain in the corner until she returned. She untied my hands after about an hour. "Ok, you can get up now. I'm going to do my shopping. Think about what I said. You are not to get dressed. You can go ahead and fool with your fishing lures naked if you want, or go to the 'Y' naked, but you are going to stay naked, probably for the whole weekend. As a matter of fact, after tomorrow, you're going to be really naked." Sarah left me wondering what she meant by that, and thinking about what I could do to make up for my transgression, as she ordered. I rested from my paddling, fooled around with my fishing reels for a time, then did some minor preparations for Sarah's return. As expected, when she came back she made no move to seek me out, but changed and went to her usual spot on the couch and turned on the TV. That's generally what she did when she was upset with me, before she started spanking me. After she settled in, I went to her silently with a small tub of water, a washcloth, some lotion and a towel. I sat at her feet, pulled off her socks and started to wash her feet. She had worn sandals out, the weather being warm enough now. Sarah made no comment, nor did she move to stop me. After I washed and dried her lovely feet, I lay flat on the floor, becoming a footrest for her. I embraced one foot to my upper chest and started to delicately kiss the other. Yes, I have to admit, I do have something of a foot fetish, because I like the look and soft feel of women's feet. But it never extended to a desire for toe-sucking. Nevertheless, I kissed the tip of her big toe, then took it in my mouth and sucked on it gently, then circled it with my tongue, cleaning it thoroughly, and licking between her toes. I took the next toe in my mouth and did the same, working my way across her foot, sucking on each toe in its turn. Then I embraced that foot while I did the other. I held her feet to my face and kissed the bottoms softly. Still not a word transpired between us. I sat up, took the lotion and rubbed it between by palms, and dabbed more on each foot individually. I gave her the most sensuous foot massage I knew how. After an hour of worshipping her feet, with her casually and silently watching TV, I picked up each foot and planted light sensual kisses on each. "I'm sorry about what I said, Sarah. Please forgive me. I want to make things right with you." "Thank you very much, Mark. That felt lovely. But I think you really love worshipping my feet. You're not going to make things right with me by doing something you love." I was crushed. I looked down, picked up the things I had brought, and took them away to clean up. In the bedroom alone, I tossed the bottle of lotion against a wall, punched the mattress on the bed, gritted my teeth and held back an erupting tantrum. I had done nothing wrong. I was encouraging us spending time together! In repayment, she paddled me into a crying fit, stuck me in a corner like a naughty boy and made me stay naked all night. I repaid that by worshipping her feet, even sucking on her toes, something I did not particularly enjoy. Yet she rejected that kindness and wanted more. I had to hold back from making noise that would draw her to me, and draw more ire from her, having felt what that was like. The old resentments came rising back, for the first time since agreeing to do things Sarah's way. I long feared resentments would consume our relationship, but submitting myself to her seemed, at least for a week, to set those resentments aside. We had grown closer, despite the pain she sometimes inflicted. I reached another decision point, as I did when I first made that cane for her and bent over that stool. I recalled how that wiped out the resentments, up until now. In a calmer state, I thought about whether the resentments would consume us, or if my silent submission would save us. How much I really adored her, even after that late afternoon paddling, brought me back to reality, and to what I really craved. The knot in my stomach tightened more than ever before; I felt sick to my stomach thinking about it. But I picked it up from its place, lying flat along the top of the bookcase in the bedroom, and carried it out to her, with the stool in the other hand. I placed the stool in the middle of the room. I presented the cane stretched out on my open palms, my eyes cast down. "I'm so sorry about what I said, Sarah," I pleaded. "Please cane me." She took the cane from my hands. "Thank you," she said. "I will. It really means a lot to me that you brought me this and asked me to cane you. That really shows how much you want things to be right, and shows that you realize belonging to me is what you really want. I really think we're going to be all right. This is a big moment, Mark. She handed the cane back to me. "But I'm not going to cane you now," she said. "Put the cane away, but leave the stool there. I want it there as a reminder of what's to come. "I don't want a caning to interfere with what I have in mind for tomorrow," she said, seeming to think out loud. "I'll tell you what, come to me Sunday night and ask for an appointment for your caning. We'll figure it out then." She came into the bathroom with a bright and cheerful attitude when I was getting ready to shave the next morning. She put her arms around me from behind and pressed her robe-clad body against me. I was still naked, of course. She ran her hands along my chest and belly and pressed her cheek against my back. "Mmmmm," she moaned. "How do you feel today?" she asked, with a hand descending down, rubbing over my cock and massaging my balls. "Pretty good," I said, though wary of what was up with this display of affection. "I think I slept pretty well." "Good," she said, pulling her hands back and opening her robe. She pressed her now-nude front against my back, rubbing her breasts against me while her hands went back to work on my chest and cock. "I need you to be strong and well-rested, because I'm going to fuck you tonight," she said. My cock started to rise as soon as she touched it, but with those words and those magnificent mounds rubbing against me I was at full staff very quickly. "Why wait until tonight?" I said. "I'm ready now." She chuckled. "I'll decide when you're ready. Why don't you go to the 'Y' this morning? I'll need you back here this afternoon. Don't worry about changing and showering there. Your butt looks fine. The paddle doesn't leave obvious marks like the cane does." She pulled away, closed her robe and left me to shave and anticipate some hot sex later. I hoped that she would let me mount her or take her from behind like we used to do, but I expected under the new order of things she would be on top. That was OK, though, for I always loved that position too, especially how her breasts bounced as she rode me. So I went to the 'Y' and it felt good to work out again. We agreed to meet for lunch, having a couple of margaritas each with our meals at a fine Mexican restaurant. Sarah continued her bright and cheerful attitude, reached out and held my hands across the table, even slipped off her sandal and teased my leg with her foot. We talked like normal married couple talk. I studied those bright green eyes as we conversed and fell more and more in love with this new woman who could both thrill me with her charms and punish me with severely. Things seemed normal enough that I braved a question. "So is it going to be sex your way tonight?" I asked. The smile faded from her face and she looked seriously at me. "Everything is my way now, Mark," she said. "I thought we were clear on that. Maybe I need to hear it from you again." I felt bad about having disappointed her with the question and cast my eyes down. I lifted her hand up and kissed it tenderly, then whispered, soft enough to be sure no one else could hear. "I love belonging to you, Sarah." Her smile returned. Out in the parking lot before we got in our separate cars, she checked her watch. "You have about four hours before I'll need you. I have to run and pick up a few things. When you go home it's OK if you want to work outside or something, but if you go in remember to undress. Remember you bought yourself a lot of naked time last night." She gave me a kiss and announced that she would see me later, then took off. This was so much different than the dominance and submission relationships I had read about in stories, where the mistress is always stern and the sub always subservient with no life at all except that of the humiliation of servitude. Sarah was being more of a loving wife than she had been in years, yet at the same time had a matter-of-fact attitude about my obedience to her and submission to whatever she wanted to do to me. I found both sides of her personality extremely appealing and looked forward to whatever our time together later would bring me. Be careful what you wish for. It was about 4 in the afternoon when I was naked and building a rod -- a real fishing rod, not a cane for beating me -- in my basement workshop when she called to me. "Mark, wrap up what you're doing. I need you upstairs in the main bathroom." As I approached I was puzzled by the presence of the vacuum cleaner outside the bathroom door. Wearing an older robe, Sarah stood holding a barber's electric razor plugged in. Sitting on the counter next to her were a ladies' shaving razor and a can of shaving cream. I was startled, but had no time to think about what was about to happen or to ask what was going on -- as if asking questions about her intentions was permitted. "Ok, just stand still and I'll tell you how and when to move," she said as soon as I stood still and looked around. She turned on the razor immediately and applied it to my chest. With a quick swipe of the buzzing instrument she carved a path down the middle of my chest, then started to work to the left. Sarah's Way Ch. 02 "Oh, no," I groaned. "Please." "Don't start, Mark. It's best if you are just quiet for now. We'll have some supper together and chat a little bit after we're done here." She shaved my chest hair, then had me lift my arms to get my underarms. I am not really a "bear" but have a bit of hair on my stomach and she took that too, working her way down. Only the light hair on my forearms, hands and the hair on my head were left above my waist. My public hair fell next, falling down onto the linoleum floor, which explained the presence of the vacuum cleaner. She had me sit on the toilet lid and lift and spread my legs so she could get all angles all around my package. She squeezed my scrotum tightly between her thumb and forefinger to force my balls low in their sack, then ran the electric razor lightly over my balls. The shaving of my butt felt the most humiliating. She took all the hair off my cheeks. I was being shorn like a sheep. Worse yet, I was made to bend over and spread my cheeks while she took all the hair around my anus. My legs she worked from the bottom up, instructing me on how to stand or lift a leg. She was thorough, removing all the hair on my body below my shoulders. When she was finished, she instructed me to take the vacuum cleaner and clean up my hair, then left me to perform the task. I surveyed my body, looking down and into the big bathroom mirror, not liking what I saw. It didn't matter how I felt. I belonged to her, and if she wanted be sheared, sheared I would be. When I finished vacuuming, I put it away and came out to the kitchen where she was getting something in the oven. "No, I'm not done with you yet. Go back to the bathroom," she said. At least for the second part she got naked with me. She shed her robe and got in the shower with me and sprayed me down with the removable shower head. She lathered up my chest first, getting what stubble the electric razor left. She shaved my underarms and belly, bypassed my crotch and ran the razor over my lathered-up ass. She shaved my legs like she would shave her own, then sprayed me down from head to foot with the shower head again. After toweling me off a bit, Sarah had me sit on the toilet lit again and lathered up my public area for a cleaning up with the razor, reaching over to rinse the blade in the nearby sink. My balls were the delicate part, but she did not spare them, urging me to hold still while she ran her ladies' razor over the sensitive skin, pulled taught by forcing my balls low in their sack. My asshole wasn't spared the touch of the blade, either. I was bent over and made to spread my cheeks and show it to her again. "Now, take a good hot shower to wash everything away, then I want you to shave your face again. I know you shaved this morning, but I don't want any of that stubble tonight," she said. "Then come join me for dinner." I hadn't felt so smooth since boyhood. Running my hands over my own body reminded me of running my hands over Sarah's smooth skin. I hated the feel. I hated the look. I wondered why, but was not about to ask. I was seated naked as the day I was born for dinner, a nice baked chicken dish she made from a box recipe. She's not the cook, but did all right. She made no reference to my new level of nudity, but was instead as affectionate and personable as she had been at lunch earlier. She had me clean up, saying she had some other things to get ready for later. It was a full hour after dinner when she announced that she needed me back in the bathroom. What I saw caused that knot that always accompanied a feeling of dread to return to my stomach. Hanging from the shower head was a very full and bulging water bottle, with a long hose extending from it, down to an enema nozzle. It wasn't the thought that I was about to get an enema that alarmed me. It was the implication. In an instant I realized what the enema bag really meant. She told me that morning that she was going to fuck me that night. I suddenly realized that I would be the one being penetrated. As usual, Sarah gave me no time to think, not that it would have made any difference. "Now I thought a lot about how to go about this, and ended up getting this exercise pad," she gestured at the floor to a mat, covered by some bath towels. "Now, first, I think it's best for you to lube yourself up good." She handed me a small open jar of Vaseline. It had not been an order, I noticed, but a suggestion that it would be best for me. Under the circumstances, I agreed. I took the jar and reluctantly started to spread the jelly around my opening. "You should probably work some inside, too," Sarah said, indelicately. So I was made to put a finger up my own ass to prepare myself for things to come. When I finished, I washed my hands and she motioned me to the floor. I was made to lie on the mat, my knees bent up to my chest, my back rotated backwards, lifting my butt hole higher. Sarah inserted the tube and told me to "just relax." Yeah, right. It was warm water that flowed into me and made me groan -- more of a whimper -- with the sensation. She pinched down on the tube to slow the flow, slowly increasing it and watching how I was doing. When she saw some start to leak out, she stopped it and waited. When I started to cramp up and cried out, she stopped the flow altogether and massaged my belly. Then she walked behind me, the tube still in my ass but the flow stopped and pulled my legs backwards until they reached the floor over my head. I had been turned upside-down. She resumed filling me up and I started to cramp again. She massaged my stomach once more and had me turn on my side. There was so much water in the bag that she was trying to force into me that it was taking a while. Sarah caressed my hair- practically the only hair left on my body -- as I lay on my side taking the last of my enema. "OK, very good, Mark," she said as the bag drained down. She removed the tube and clamped it off, throwing the end to hang in the shower. "We'll just let this work in a bit." She massaged my stomach some more, and I pleaded. "Please, Sarah, it hurts, and I don't want to make a mess." "OK, you can sit and empty it out now. Take your time. When you're done, fill it up again at a temperature to your liking and come out and get me." So I was to receive yet another. "Oh, and I do mean fill it up," she said, emphasizing that it was to be full, like the one that had just been emptied inside me. It took a while, but I finished one, filled the bag as instructed, then hauled my shaved ass out to the living room to announce that she could give me another. She did. The second went easier. "Now just to be sure, fill it up about half full and come get me again," she said as I sat on the toilet. I felt crushed as I let the second bag flow out of me. I had so much looked forward to the "I'm going to fuck you tonight" declaration. Now I dreaded it. The third half-enema went fast. "After you've emptied it out, take a shower and clean yourself thoroughly back there, then come and get me again," she said. Satisfied that I was cleaned, she did the lubrication herself this time. She had me bend over and spread my cheeks while she worked the Vaseline around my anus, then for the first time ever put a slicked-up finger inside. She added another finger, then a third, working the trio in circles, while I moaned in discomfort. Still, there was an element of thrill to it that this beautiful woman put her fingers up my ass. When she was satisfied with that result, she produced a large butt plug, wide in diameter, and spread the Vaseline over the entire business end. She did not display it to me as if to taunt me with it, but seemed to make sure she did this where I could see it and could anticipate it. She pressed the big plug against my opening and slowly pushed. "Ohhhh!" I cried as my sphincter expanded and protested in pain. She got it past that muscle and my asshole enclosed around it. "There you go; you've been plugged," she said, the cheerful disposition back. "Now, I'm sure you need a little time, so take a washcloth and clean up the Vaseline a bit, then come out and join me. Let's have a couple of drinks. Fully plugged, I waddled my bare naked, sheared and shaved body into the living room to join my wife, who smiled slightly as if laughing at my predicament. She knew that I knew what was to come later, in contrast to what I had anticipated all day. "I made you a vodka gimlet she said, with Three Olives, like you like. I'm not sure if I put enough of that lime stuff in it, but you can add more if you'd like. I think you should have a couple of drinks before we go on with the evening." She had a towel spread out on the recliner next to where my drink sat. I tentatively sat down, forcing the plug deeper. I was being stretched out, and I knew it. "You OK? You look a little shell-shocked," she almost laughed. "I didn't expect this," I said. Sarah changed the subject, to something she thought I'd like, fishing or football or something I was sure she wasn't really interested in. After a while, she had me get up and fix a couple of more drinks. She was having a Bloody Mary. I felt so self-conscious walking about totally bare, shaved from the top of my head on down, with a big blue plug sticking out of my ass. We were killing time until I was ready for my fucking. And soon it was time, when we finished our second drinks. She led me by my cock again back to the bathroom and had me bend over and spread them. She pulled out the plug, wrapped it in tissue and handed it to me. While washing her hands, she gave me my instructions. "Wash it off good and put it away in the bedroom. You should clean yourself back there then use a little more of the Vaseline, and wash your hands real good before going to the bedroom. I want you on the bed on your knees, with your forearms on the bed in front of you and butt in the air. Then wait for me." I dreaded this. I hated the thought of it. I did as I was told. She made me wait about five minutes with my ass high in the air, knowing what was coming and having nothing to do but think about it. I think that was by design. She came in wearing nothing but a strap-on. The dildo was black, with fake veins meant to look as much like a real cock as possible. The head was bulbous, with the helmet shape of a circumcised penis. It was quite long, I guessed 12 inches. Mercifully, she had selected one of about the same average diameter of my own tool, not one particularly thick. "Ok," she said, "I see you're ready for me." She jumped up on the bed behind me and patted my smooth ass. "You know, I'll bet you're a virgin back here. That's something we never talked about. When we were dating and getting intimate, it never occurred to me to ask if you'd ever been done in the ass." I didn't reply, feeling no need to assure her that I had indeed never been penetrated that way. I felt patronized. "Well, this is a special night then," she said. "I always wanted to know what it felt like to be on the other end of a fucking, being the one doing the thrusting instead of the one getting thrusted. Do men ever wonder what it's like for us?" she said. "I suppose, but not like this," I answered. "Well, I think we'll both learn something, and maybe have a little fun, too. At least I will," she added. I felt the rubbery cock, which had some flexibility, being rubbed up and down my crack. "Reach back and spread yourself for me," she said. I opened myself without protest, my shoulders and my face bearing my weight on the mattress, raising my ass still higher. She had to have me spread my knees a bit to lower myself down and line up the strap-on properly. I felt the tip press against my opening and swallowed hard. She pressed it in and it hurt at first, but not as much as the butt plug, which was larger in diameter and forced into my ass when it was still tight. It hurt until it got past my sphincter muscle and my asshole closed around it. She pushed it deeper and felt myself being invaded. By the time she got it halfway in the thought crossed my mind that I was already fucked. But it was just beginning. "Uhhhh! Uhhhh!" I cried out as I felt it go deeper. Soon, she was in all the way. It pushed against my insides and a protest of pain escaped my throat. She pulled out a ways, then pushed it back in. She began her thrusts and found a rhythm. I was allowed to return my hands in front of me once she was inside. Once over the initial pain and the shock and the very idea of taking an ass-fucking, it became an oddly pleasurable sensation. I thought about how it must feel for a woman being bent over like this with a man penetrating either her anus or vagina from behind. I guess I was learning something, albeit reluctantly. Sarah went easy on me at first; it was new for her, too. But she soon got comfortable with it and picked up the pace and my body started to rock back and forth as it was pushed from behind. Whenever I entered a woman from behind, I enjoyed how my thrusts could make her breasts swing back and forth, and would reach over to cup them in my hands and feel them as they bobbed back and forth. Sarah had reached that pace with me. Though I had no breasts, Sarah did the same to me, leaning over my back and running her hands over my chest. Her face came close to my ear. "Go ahead and play with yourself," she said. My cock was limp. Sexually, this did nothing for me. But I was obedient and reached a hand back to try to bring myself to an erection. It started to respond. She ran her hands around the globes of my ass. "I love how smooth you feel," she said. I had never said that to a woman, but I had thought of it many times while touching her smooth ass as I worked her from behind. The point of the shaving came to me. I was being fucked like a girl. I was shaved smooth, like a girl is, from the head down. Sarah was looking down not on my normally hairy man-ass, but a set of round and smooth cheeks, looking much like what a man sees when he does a woman this way. Sarah fucked me and fucked me from behind, then had me turn over. I lay on my back, my knees back on my chest and back arched while she entered me in what was as close to the missionary position as she could get. She thrust for a while, then had me roll further back and put my legs up over her shoulders, allowing her deeper access, but causing me more pain in the opening she was using and in my leg and back muscles. She stopped, had me turn on my side, lifted my leg and took me from behind that way. When she tired of thrusting, she turned over on her back and had me impale myself on her cock. She prompted me to keep going until I was fully sitting on her with all my weight, the dildo as deep in my ass as it could go. Then I was made to rise up, with my feet down on the bed, and begin riding her. She reached up and ran her hands over my smooth chest, the way I would rub her breasts when she rode me. Sarah had me stand and bend over, putting my hands on the bed, then entered me from behind, having me bend my knees to get the proper angle and make up for the fact that I am so much taller. "Sarah, I'm getting really sore," I complained. "I know. That's what it's like sometimes for us," she said, referring to her gender. "After a while you get sore and wish it would stop but it keeps going as long as he wants." The worst was when she put me on the floor and had me roll my legs all the way over my head until my feet were above my head. I was upside-down, like I was during one stage of the enemas. She pushed her strap-on cock straight down into me and worked it up and down. I was made to work on my penis, which was pointing straight down at my face. She was taking me in about every position she could think of that a man takes a woman. And she went on. She took me to the bathroom and had me sit on the counter rolling my hips forward until my asshole was on the edge. She stood on a stool and took me again. I whimpered, complained, and complied. She tired of the incessant thrusting, and I learned the folly of men who think they are doing all the work when they thrust long and hard during a hot sexual encounter while the woman just lays there and takes it. I longed to be the one doing the thrusting, as my tight formerly virgin opening was screaming in pain by the time she decided to stop. She made me take the strap-on to the bathroom myself after she removed it, with instructions to clean it and myself while she made a couple of more drinks. I was happy it was over. When I came out to the living room, she was sitting on the sofa wearing her pink robe with my drink and hers in her hands. She had a big smile on her face. "You know, I've heard that guys talk about a girl with a 'just-fucked' look on her face. I wanted to see how it looked on you. Come here. Sit next to me," she said handing me my much-needed drink. I took a big gulp. "Hang in there, big guy. "It's still pretty early, and I think the night will get better for you." We watched some TV. She slipped an arm around me and pulled me close, running her soft hands sensually over my smooth, shaven skin. We chatted about what we saw on TV, but had no conversation about what had just happened. But the burning sensation in my rectum wouldn't let me forget. After a while, Sarah leaned her head on my shoulder like a regular girlfriend. She took my flaccid penis in her hand and started to play with it. She did so slowly and casually as we watched the comedy program and laughed from time to time. I got hard when she nibbled on my ears and told me how sexy I looked getting fucked. So often since this dominance game began she followed experiences in pain and humiliation with moments of affection and reassurance. It was so hard to tell if she really felt that affection toward me or was trying to manipulate me into accepting my role as a submissive. I thought of all of this, and accepted the affection as affection that I long craved, and the dominance as also something that I long craved. Was there room in a relationship for both? She kept me hard with gentle playing and deliberate stroking for about a half hour, and had me squirming for relief. Sarah opened the bottom part of her robe, took my hand and put it between her legs. "Touch me slow and gentle," she said. "Just get me warmed up and wet." I ran my fingers slowly up the length of her outer lips then pressed inside to do the same to her inner lips. I didn't stick my fingers all the way inside to invade her, knowing that's not what she meant. And I didn't touch her clit directly, but circled in sensuously with the tip of a finger. "You're really good at that," she said after I'd been at it for a few short minutes, her breathing becoming more rapid. Her juices were flowing. My cock was still pointing straight up, though she had stopped playing with it when I started on her. "Ok, big guy, that's enough," she said, removing my hand and standing up. She dropped the robe where she stood, then grabbed my cock in an overhand fashion and set out for the bedroom. Once again, I was being let by my cock, but I loved the destination. "On your back," Sarah said, giving me a little push next to the bed. I lay in the middle, my cock pointing at the ceiling. She jumped up and straddled me, grabbing my cock and rubbing the head up and down along her moistened lips. "This is how you really wanted me to fuck you tonight, isn't it?" "Please," I said, then added. "My God, you're beautiful. You turn me on so much the way you look and the things you do to me." Sarah just smiled, then put my cock inside her just far enough that she could let go. She was squatting with the soles of her feet on the bed on each side of me. She took her hand and began to massage her breasts and hold them up to display them for me. Sarah's Way Ch. 02 At that point we were touching only at our genitals, with the tip of my cock barely inside her pussy. She was gradually. . . very gradually . . lowering herself down on me, and driving me crazy doing it. I tried to thrust up against her, but got a quick stern admonishment of "No!" This was to be done Sarah's way. She finally lowered herself the rest of the way, then grinded her hips around in a circular motion. My cock felt the warmth and smoothness of the inside of a woman that it had been craving all day. I anticipated this moment, not the moments that came before. Sarah started to ride me, bouncing up and down on my rod. She made herself more comfortable, putting her knees down on the bed, rocking back and forth and up and down, while reaching forward and massaging my chest. She let me reach up and touch her breasts. Sarah began to rub her clit with her left hand, her right hand reaching back and grasping my balls as she quickened the pace. "Come on, Mark, I need you to come for me now. You have to do it, Mark, now come for me," she panted. Her hand tightened around my balls and it was as if the sexual energy she squeezed out of them went right up to my cock. I felt it building, and Sarah knew it was coming, too. I cried out when I knew it was about to begin. She squeezed hard on my balls, hurting them while at the same time increasing the intensity of the moment. Sarah thrust herself down on me and stopped, letting me empty my load up into her. When I finished, she quickly pulled herself up and cupped her crotch in her hand, then moved forward and straddled my face. "Open your mouth," she ordered. I did not say no, but turned my head and grunted a protest. "Mark, open your mouth!" she said sternly. "You have to do this!" She grabbed me by the chin and turned my face up. I opened my mouth. Sarah spread her pussy lips wide and looked down, her red hair hanging down. She aimed and watched as my semen dripped out of her into my mouth. I gagged slightly as a drop hit the back of my throat. Sarah lowered herself down onto my mouth, still spreading herself open. "Go on, Mark. Clean me out now. Do your best," she said. I started to lick rather tentatively. "Come on, use your tongue and get as deep as you can." I'd heard semen described as salty in flavor, but I didn't find it so. But it wasn't the flavor that was the turn-off. It was the fact that I was being made to eat my own come. Mixed with Sarah's essence, of course. As I licked, she rubbed, working her clit furiously and pushing her pussy ever harder down on my mouth. Her breathing was quickening. "I'll give you something to wash it down with," she said. And so she did. Sarah had never been vocal in her orgasms, but her muscles would tense up and she would pull me tight. This time she just forced herself down on my harder and I tasted what was happening. Her come mixed with my own and flowed into my mouth and down my throat. Sarah continued to rub her clit and continued to flow freely. She moved from my mouth forward, then back to my chin, then up and down, wiping her sex and her come and mine all over my face. She spread her ass cheek and planted her asshole over my mouth. I ran my tongue around the opening as I did in the shower a week before. Sarah turned around, facing my feet, but kept rubbing her pussy and ass all over my face as she worked my balls between her thumb and fingers, feeling and hurting each one in turn. "Uhhhhhh! Uhhhhhh! Uhhhhhh! Uhhhhhh! Uhhhhhh! Uhhhhhh!" she became more vocal as she came again, giving her more to spread over my face. I felt it running down my face and around my ears. Eventually, she was spent, and I needed to breathe normally again. Sarah slipped down onto the bed beside me and had me turn on my side in front of her, but facing away. She held my arms down and snuggled her face against my back. "You were great tonight," she whispered. When I tried to get up to go to the bathroom she pulled me back with a gentle "no." "You'll be fine," she said when I protested that I wanted to go. I think she knew that what I really wanted was to go wash my face. She didn't want me to. And so we both drifted off to sleep and I awoke in the morning with our come dried all over my sticky face and an awful taste lingering in my mouth. When I got up to go to the bathroom in the morning, she came with me. I never liked someone watching me pee, so Sarah brushed her teeth as I went, but then stopped me from leaving. She motioned for me to sit down on the floor by the toilet. It was her turn next. Still nude -- her robe was on the floor by the couch -- she sat on the toilet and I heard the sound of her stream hitting the water. She had me get a bit of toilet paper, then taught me how to dab her dry. She had me reach in the cabinet below the sink and bring out a box of a feminine douche product. "Now, when I have you come inside me, I will always have you do your best to clean me, like last night, but I always liked to freshen up a bit after you've done that. They say we don't really need to do this, but I like to," she said. The notice that I would be licking my come from her vagina whenever I deposited it there did not escape me. That image, however, was set aside because of what she was doing right in front of me. Sarah taught me how to use the douche on her, and I was amazed that she would let me get involved with her feminine hygiene needs. In a departure from our usual Sunday morning procedure, Sarah wanted to shower before having coffee. She ordered me to come with her. I sat on my legs at the back side of the shower while she explained the procedure. She would be wetting and washing her hair, which gave me the opportunity to wash her body thoroughly. She showed me the soaps and body shampoos she preferred, and I was to ask which to use. She said she did not normally shave her legs and underarms on Sundays. But she preferred to do that herself anyway, since she figured she would be faster at it. I was being trained in how to personally care for her bodily needs. A major caution was not to get too busy with my hands. "I don't care if you get an erection; in fact, it would be flattering, but don't ever act like this is about your pleasure. You are to do a good job bathing me, and that's all that counts," she said. I toweled her dry and she had me dry myself, too, so I wouldn't "drip on the floor like a dog." As she dried her hair, I was to rub her skin with a moisturizing body lotion. I did her feet and legs first, working my way up and massaging her legs all around. She let me do her butt and back next before turning around so I could get her belly and breasts. I was to be sure to lift each breast and work the lotion underneath. I moisturized each arm separately when she finished drying her hair. She let me shower then, and I was finally able to wash all the dried girlcome off my face. She brushed her hair and went to make coffee. I found her wearing her pink robe, sitting at the head of the dining room table with some coffee and a light breakfast. "I'm just having some cereal and toast for breakfast," she said chirpily. "You get to have me!" She motioned me down and when I was slow to pick up what was going on, she just said, "On the floor, under the table." I crawled under the table and she scooted her chair back, then her butt forward all the way to the edge of the chair. She opened her robe and spread her legs wide, placing her feet as wide as she could. "Very slow and gentle. Just use your lips and the tip of your tongue," she instructed. I planted a soft kiss on her outer lips then started to lightly graze the tip of my tongue over them. I always wished she would shave there, but she never did. Still, there's nothing like a bright red bush. She just had me work her for a few minutes, enough to get her a little moistened, but not too aroused. I felt she may have done it just to continue to show me that morning that my life was becoming a life of service to her. I got my own coffee and breakfast when she excused me and ate while she worked on the Sunday paper. The rest of Sunday turned out to be pretty normal, up until evening. I was allowed to dress and go outside for some spring yard work. She went to do some grocery shopping and run some errands. When I was back inside later in the afternoon, I just naturally undressed, showering again after a day's worth of outdoor work. I was nude, fixing a simple dish for supper when she returned. After supper she again helped clean up, and talked to me about the next day, and the future. "It's probably best that you just get up early and get done in the bathroom before I get up, because then I'll need you to help me. You'll have time for coffee and breakfast while I'm doing my makeup and some other stuff. Once I'm through with you in the bathroom you'll be on your own to get ready for work yourself." After we were through, she went on with additional duties for me. "Mark, now that sandal season is here, you'll be responsible for taking care of my feet between pedicures. You'll need to plan to do that on Sunday night because I want my feet in good shape heading into the week." She taught me how to use a pumice stone to sand off any calluses that started to develop. "But I'm probably fine now, because I just had a pedicure." Instructions on nail care were next. It was better to file to keep growth under control, but clipping was necessary, too. I had to use nail polish remover on each toe to strip off old chipped-up polish. Then I needed to wash her feet. There was a plastic pan procured just for the task. I was to fill it with warm water and some concoction from a Bath and Body Works store, then give her feet a good washing and deep massage. After they dried, I was to apply the new polish. It was just be a clear seal today, as she didn't think she had a great color to match what she was planning to wear Monday. I got to take a break and clean up while they dried. Then it was time to moisturize -- and worship. "Always allow a little extra time. Because after making them look good, you should make them feel good. And you are so good at that, and I think you love to worship me feet," she said. She had used that phrase often, as if she wanted me to get familiar and comfortable with it. When the feet duties were over, I went ahead with what I was dreading: "Sarah, you said I should talk to you tonight about an appointment for my caning." She smiled. "I knew you would remember. Let's see. . . I decided against keeping your body shaved. I think it will be nice to do once in a while, but most of the time I want my man to look regular. But I would like to do your caning before your body hair grows back much. "Why don't we plan it for after work tomorrow? Can you get off quickly enough to get home a little bit before me?" "I think so," I said. "Good. Get naked and get your cane out and be waiting for me by the stool when I get home. I'll cane you right away before I change. You may want to eat a really good lunch tomorrow, because I'm not sure you're going to feel like much supper later. Besides, you'll need your strength." I assisted with her bathroom duties early Monday. She ignored my raging hard-on as I helped bathe her in the shower and apply moisturizing lotion to her lovely body. When she dismissed me I had to quickly dress and head out the door for work. Throughout the day the images of running my hands over her breasts and butt, and massaging those perfect legs and feet with soap-filled hands, filled my mind and caused me to scoot my chair far forward to make sure no one noticed my daydreaming had made me hard. The coming caning came to mind from time to time, but the fact that I was going home to a goddess was foremost in my mind, and made me count the minutes until the end of the day. I rushed home and hurried, stripping naked quickly in fear that she would be home earlier than I expected and find me fumbling with clothes. When I was naked, I grabbed the cane and ran to the living room, placing it on top of the stool. I stood and waited, and after a few minutes sat down. I remained seated on the floor next to my caning stool when I heard Sarah coming in. She entered the living room and I fell in love with her again. She wore an emerald blazer over a white, low-cut pull-over top, her bra pushing her breasts together and lifting them to display an ample cleavage that I'm sure got plenty of attention from the men in her office that day. But it wasn't just the cleavage, but her overall appearance that was stunning. Her skirt was a deep, dark green, matching and contrasting the emerald top, reaching just below her knees. She wore no stockings; on her feet that I worked so hard to care for the night before were a pair of open-toe tall heels. Her jewelry, from her bracelets and hoop hearings to her necklace holding a large pendant was copper, as was the buckle on the wide leather belt visible through the open blazer. Even her make-up had hints of the copper color that matched so well the green of her outfit and her eyes. Her long, nicely curled red hair hung just over her shoulders. She was astoundingly beautiful, looking confident and professional while at the same time irresistibly sexy. This was one amazing woman who was about to cane me again. "Hi! Oh, you're all ready for me! That's great! I'll be with you in a moment, as soon as I go to the bathroom," she said as she passed by. I stood by the stool and waited. "My God, you're gorgeous today," I said when she returned, clutching something in her left hand. "Why, thank you!" she gushed. "I really appreciate that, Mark!" "That outfit is beautiful, and it matches your red hair and green eyes so well." "It's so sweet of you to notice. I really do appreciate you saying that. I love the flattery, but it's not going to save your butt today," she said, picking up the cane with her right hand. "It wasn't meant to," I said as she guided me with a gentle touch of her hand to the stool. "Now, I got a pair of handcuffs for you, Mark. Would you like me to cuff you to the stool so you can't stand up like you did last time? I was easy on you last time because it was your first caning. If you get out of line this time, it will cost you a lot more, and this is going to be rougher than last time," she said. "No, I think I'll be fine," I said as I bent over the stool, assuming the position she taught me last time. "Ok, then we'll just save these for later," she said, setting the handcuffs aside on the coffee table. Sarah squatted next to my face, which was pointing down, in the opposite direction of my upturned ass. Switching hands with the cane, she placed her warm right hand on my lower back, her fingers gently caressing me. "Mark, I was really proud of you asking for this caning to make things right after what you said. I'm going to punish you when you make me angry, and sometimes that will be with a caning or a paddling like you got on Friday, and sometimes it may be something else. But me punishing you isn't going to be enough to make things right. You're going to have to do something on your own to do that. I think most of the time I cane you will probably be after you ask me to. "It was sweet for you to worship my feet, and it's OK to offer to do something that makes me feel good if you're trying to make things right. But I know what turns you on and what doesn't, and offering to do something that turns you on isn't going to cut it. But I know you're on the right track because you asked me for this caning and didn't forget to make the appointment, and you're here naked and ready for me. "I'm really proud of you. Unfortunately for you, all of that only counts if you actually get the caning," she said, standing up and taking the cane back in her right hand. She stepped behind me. Sarah began tapping me very rapidly with the cane, not hard, but persistent. The stinging never stopped and my butt writhed beneath the soft blows. She covered my butt from the tops of my legs to my back with soft, rapid strikes. "Owwwww!" I protested, hanging on tight to my place on the stool, but starting to twist my hips around in a futile attempt to avoid the cane. "Hold still, Mark," she commanded, and there was no doubt that it was a command. "I'm just warming you up with the cane, the way I warmed you up with the paddle before." That comment brought back the knot in my stomach, knowing that this was going to get a whole lot worse before it got better. I told myself I wasn't going to cry this time, and in a manner of speaking I didn't. Tears ran down my cheeks, but I avoided the sobs and other sounds that come with it. I clenched my teeth and let the tears flow. There was nothing I could do about them, and nothing I would do to stop what Sarah was doing to me. But I still couldn't stop myself from squirming. "You're just making things worse, Mark," Sarah cautioned. "You have to learn to just submit and take it." She eventually stopped, my ass by then burning with pain, but I knew the real caning had not begun, but was about to. "Ok, it's time," Sarah said. "You're going to have to do better than you just did in the warm-up." Whoosh! Crack! I screamed with the first blow, which felt as if it had been delivered with all Sarah's strength. Whoosh! Crack! "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" I screamed again, long -- too long. The third blow took my breath away. I was unable to scream because I needed to inhale. I could not inhale because the force of the blow and the pain paralyzed me for a moment. The fourth blow came and I gasped for air, filling my lungs, and holding it in. My existence seemed to fade at that moment. I did not lose consciousness, but lost my sense of self, as if a pause button were clicked on my very thought processes. The late afternoon sunlight spilled through the patio door and illuminated the carpet fibers below me. I noticed how they glistened, and noticed how my hands, clutching the lower bar on the stool, had lost their color, the knuckles white. They seemed like someone else's hands. My body went limp and I relaxed my grip on the stool as another blow and then another and another came, each delivering a new experience in pain. I was silent through each blow. At that point, my caning was not something I had asked for or submitted to, nor was it something Sarah was doing to me. It simply was. My existence consisted of the repeated blows of the cane; the recurring and persistent pains, each different in its own way; the sights of my hands and the sunlight and carpet fibers; and the tears dripping into the carpet like rain. I accepted my caning without protest, without movement, without squirming. I neither wished it were over nor hoped that it would continue. But continue it did, far longer than the pitiful 12 strokes I received the first time. When it pleased Sarah to stop, she stopped, and mouthed some words of praise for how I took it. I neither listened nor understood. She tried to help me back into a standing position, but I collapsed on the floor at her feet. Those lovely feet, framed so beautifully by the heels she wore, became my new reality. With tears still flowing, I reached out and put my arms around her legs at the shins, clinging to her. I pulled back slightly and kissed each of those feet in turn, right above her toes. The cane pointed down by my ear. Sarah squatted down and petted my hair with her hand. "There, there," Mark. "It's over now, and you did quite well. I think you really do belong to me now." I kissed each of her feet again in assent. Sarah helped me up to a kneeling position, then retrieved the handcuffs from the table and secured my wrists behind me. I made no move or sound to protest. Sarah's Way Wanting to please her more, I began to lick around her hole, and the areas around that, and up and down between her cheeks. "Oh!!!" she cried out. I'm definitely going to have you spend more time back there!" With that, she stopped me and had me stand. "Don't worry, Mark!" she said, turning to me."There's no way I would have you do that to me unless I was really, really clean. I just wanted to know what it felt like, and I loved it! But I'm not going to make you do something disgusting just because I can. "I love you, Mark," she said taking my hands. "Trust me." She dried me off like a little boy getting out of the shower. "I started a grocery list and left it on the table. Take a look at it and try to think of what else we need. I want you to teach me how to make your Shrimp Scampi tonight. Michelle and I want to make it for Suzanne," she said. "Now get dressed. We're going to the store." The rest of Sunday was just delightful. In fact, all of Sunday was delightful, even taking into account the pain in my balls from her foot job. In hindsight it seemed only to heighten my orgasm. It's like we were dating again. We went grocery shopping together and I told her how to select the best shrimp for making scampi, judge the freshness of garlic, and why unsalted butter was best. When we first met it was clear I was the cook. I wanted to teach her, but she never seemed to take an interest until now. We also laughed together, as we did listening to the comic after my Saturday caning. Back at the house, she asked questions and marveled at my skill as we worked on a gourmet dinner together. It wasn't me preparing a dinner for her, only to be disappointed later by her falling asleep, before we could make love. Something better was happening. I had prepared this meal many times for her, with an impressive presentation that by then she knew well. "Ok, we're ready to serve now?" she said. "Except that I forgot to slice some lemon garnishes," I replied, taking the rest of the lemon we used to squeeze the juice for the scampi. "I can take care of that," she said. "I remember how you set it all up. I'll get it on the table. You go and leave your clothes in the bedroom and come back to join me. I'll pour the wine, too." I paused a second because it was a sudden change of direction of the afternoon and evening. "Go!" she said. "I want you undressed for dinner!" I recalled her words as she ran her bare foot up and down my thigh: "Think about being naked when I want you naked. . ." I left for the bedroom and took my time undressing. I knew from experience how much time it took to get everything on the table. I timed it perfectly, returning naked to see my place set and Sarah waiting for me. Sarah didn't have anything sexual in mind for dinner. We ate together like a newly married couple, only I was naked and she was not. She made no reference to me being exposed, nor did I. When we finished, she helped me clean up the dishes. We had an unspoken rule in the house, that if one fixes the meal, the other cleans up the kitchen. Since I usually cooked, she usually cleaned up. I took the gesture as significant. I was trying to feel out this situation. I had, while spent from a moment of erotic passion, made a gesture that demonstrated my willingness to be "owned" by her. She was not trying to make me a household slave responsible for all the work. In fact, except for the fact that she caned me unmercifully, crushed my balls beneath her foot and had me lick her asshole, she had never been so nice to me. I couldn't help bursting out laughing at the thought. "What??" Sarah asked, puzzled. "Nothing," I said. "Come on now, it wasn't nothing. What are you laughing at?" "Just something I thought of." She pressed and I resisted. "Mark!" she said with a tone of warning in her voice. I told the truth. "It just crossed my mind that except for the fact that you caned me unmercifully crushed my balls beneath your foot and had me lick your asshole, you had never been so nice to me," I said. "That just struck me as funny." Sarah chuckled a bit too and seemed unsure at how to respond to what was an obviously ridiculous contradiction. "Well, I think we're both going to be happier with Sarah's way," she said, referring to herself in the third person. We watched TV and snuggled as the night before after my caning. I remained nude. She got ready for bed, and sat on the coach with me, wearing her pajamas. Later, I slipped into bed first. She threw the covers back when she came, took her spot next to me, then surveyed my body from head to toe. "You really are a sexy guy," she said, rubbing her hand along my chest and belly. "I know I was pretty mean to you at times this weekend. But I was only thinking of what would make us both happier. And you seemed to agree." She started to kiss my chest and quickly worked her way down. I marveled at the brilliance of the woman who owned me. Every step of the way she was ahead of me, and knew how to play me. I might have called it manipulative back when resentment instead of dominance and submission marked our relationship. She had acknowledged what she had done to me, but before that could become an issue in our conversation, started to kiss my body. The same thought goes through every man's mind when a woman starts to kiss him and works her way lower and lower. And every man wants it to end the same way and doesn't want to say or do anything that will stop it. I had gone from a man who let his wife cane him to avoid talking about our relationship to a man who wanted desperately to talk about the new relationship -- only to be silenced by my desire to take in the pleasure she was offering. Earlier, I didn't complain about her crushing my balls because I so desired the pleasure she was bringing by cock. I said not a word, and she took me in her mouth, an unusual move for a dominatrix, if the stories I read were any indication. The warmth and moisture of a woman's mouth are sublime for a man. I groaned, caressed her soft red hair, and forgot about any moment of pain that had happened in the past 48 hours. Sarah brought be off, and in contrast to Saturday night, it was she who swallowed my come. "After all I put you through, I thought you deserved that," Sarah said. "Don't forget that I love you, Mark. And don't forget that you belong to me." With that, she pressed her head into her pillow with a slight smile on her face, ready to go to sleep. Monday started a new work week, the daily grind for married couples of working age, and I wondered how doing things Sarah's way would fit in with the necessities of daily life. Already, I got the idea that I wasn't to be a 24-7 submissive made to crawl around and eat from a dog dish. The early part of the week was pretty uneventful. As days went by, I found that I was to sleep nude from now on. I the morning, I was to go about my routine shaving and having coffee and a bite to eat in the nude. Then I dressed for work as usual and went off, from now on not forgetting to kiss her goodbye before she left for work. In the evenings she was again more loving and affectionate than she had been before. She did not for the most part interfere with my usual evening pleasures -- taking time to read, surf the Internet a little, or watch a favored TV show. At some point she would have me undress for bed. On Wednesday, she had me undress a little earlier, with the simple command "Go get ready for bed," which by then I knew what meant. She had me sitting on the couch rubbing lotion on her feet, but made no move to expand that into the foot job I enjoyed on Sunday. She went off to get ready for bed herself, and soon told me to turn everything off and come to bed. I found her on the bed with her pajama bottoms and panties off, her knees up and her legs spread wide. "Something I never let you find out about me is that every once in a while 'she' needs to come out and get some air," she said about her vagina, marking the first time I had heard a woman refer to her own sex that way. She was rubbing herself lightly. "I was always too embarrassed to let you know before, let alone watch. But now things are different. But right now it's not air that she wants, but attention. I'm glad I own a man who can give her some." My cock rose on seeing her on display, but not so much at the erotic sight of a beautiful woman spread wide open, but at the idea that my wife had opened up to me so much. I licked her slowly, the way she always liked it. I so love the taste and smell of a woman, and like to savor it, and have found that by working her slowly I enjoy more of her flavor and essence than I would if I tried to bring her off with furious tongue action early. Licking the edges of her inner labia, I worked around the circle of her opening before circling her clit, then poking it deliberately with the tip of my tongue. I considered it a privilege when her come flowed over my tongue. She cried out, thrashed about, thanked me, then turned on her side. I snuggled against her, spoon-fashion, with my erection pressing against her ass. When she made no move to respond, I pressed harder, and pumped my hips back and forth to signal my arousal. Married men know the routine well. "Mark!" Sarah said, pulling herself away. I was still thinking in the old ways, in which resentment ruled our marriage. I was still getting used to the idea that nothing about Sarah's way was fair, or was supposed to be. I had agreed to it for other reasons. Still, thinking about the old ways, I tried to negotiate, albeit timidly. "So I'm not allowed to come, then?" I said. Sarah shot up in bed and turned the lamp on. "Mark! You belong to me now!" she said, emphatically. "Your body belongs to me. "This belongs to me," she went on, grabbing my cock. These belong to me." She grasped my testicles. "Your orgasms belong to me. You will never be allowed to come," she said, frightening me. "You will be required to come. When I want an orgasm from you I will ask for it or produce it in the way that I see fit. "Mark, don't worry. I know you need release, especially after some of the things I do to you. I'm not going to run some kind or orgasm denial game just to drive you crazy. I know what you need and you will get it. But sometimes I have a bigger picture or other plans in mind, but I do not feel obligated to tell you what I'm thinking. "But, OK, if you must insist on coming tonight, if you cannot sleep without it, go get a washcloth." I wasn't sure if that was an order, an option, or an admonishment, or all three. But I got up and came back with an old washcloth. She stopped me at the edge of the bed. "Just stand there and do it; you don't need to get into bed," she said. I hesitated, knowing that she meant for me to masturbate. The desire that built from my licking her started to wane. "Sarah, it's OK, I don't need to. . ." She rolled he eyes as if exasperated at me. "Your orgasm is required," she said sternly. I stood there and started to stroke my member. I felt ashamed doing this in front of my wife, who was unwilling to help me out the way I had just helped her. But I belonged to her now, we had decided. It was an uncomfortable moment for me, masturbating for her again. But it was not a painful moment, and the erotic intensity of our relationship had never been so intense since I submitted to her dominance. I told myself that that's why I went along, but the way she was able to manipulate me told me she had a deeper understanding of why than I did myself. It was taking me a while. To help hurry me along, Sarah pulled back the covers and pulled down her top to show me those magnificent breasts. I finished into the washcloth. "Good boy," Sarah said. "Now go put it with the dirty towels and come to bed." At least she had not paddled or caned me during the week, I thought. But a weekend was coming up, and something told me there would be some new experiences in store for me as I learned more about Sarah's way. Sarah's Worst Day Sarah looked at herself in the full length mirror. She would never normally have worn such a short dress to work and she certainly wouldn't ever have worn the underwear that she had chosen for today. Today was the end of the school year, however. She had somehow managed to complete her first year as a qualified teacher and she told herself she had every right to celebrate. She was the youngest teacher in the school by far and, even though she was totally oblivious to the fact, she was the one who turned the heads of most of the other teachers, male and female. Being only a few years older than some of her students, she had exactly the same effect on some of them. Again, it wasn't just the eighteen year old boys who wanted to get to know her better; some of the more precocious girls did too and, again, Sarah was totally unaware of all of this. She still had the final morning's classes to get through before the students departed for the summer and the staff all made their way to the Headmaster's home for the first barbecue of the season. That was why she had chosen her new summer dress; she knew she didn't have time to come home to change after school but she was very aware of how short her dress was, barely reaching half way down her smooth thighs. She was even more acutely aware of how skimpy her underwear was but she wanted to feel good about herself today. She was still intimidated by the older teachers and she knew that, if she could feel sexy underneath her dress then, maybe, it would give her more confidence at the barbecue. Smiling to herself once more in the mirror, she picked up her keys and bag and made her way out the door. It was already hot, even at this time in the morning and she was glad she had convinced herself not to wear her usual school attire. She felt the warm breeze on her face and luxuriated in the thought of a long, hot summer. The drive to school was short and she really didn't need to bring the car. She would need it later, however, to get to the Headmaster's house and then to get home later on. Reaching the school, she pulled in to her usual parking space and got out of the car. Just when she was about to press the button to close the central locks, she remembered she had left some books on the passenger seat and, without thinking, opened the door and reached across to pick them up. Almost as soon as she leaned forward she realised she had made a mistake. She felt her short dress rising up the back of her thighs and exposing her slender legs. At the same time the breeze that had caressed her face as she left home suddenly reappeared and flipped the thin cotton of her dress up, exposing her firm bottom cheeks. Even worse, she knew, was that she had chosen to wear a tiny white thong and the thin strap at the back had nestled between her cheeks during her drive. If anyone had been standing behind her they would have thought she was naked from the waist down. Pushing her dress down with one hand, she grabbed her books with the other before straightening up and locking the door once more. Her face was blushing at the thought of the inadvertent exposure but she was horrified when she turned round to see Tommy Wilson standing there. Her face burned a deeper shade of red as he grinned at her and, even though Tommy never uttered a word before sauntering away, Sarah knew he had had a good, if fleeting, look at her seemingly bare bottom. Tommy Wilson was the last person she would have expected to see standing behind her. He was in his final day at school and should not have been anywhere near the staff car park. It didn't help that Tommy was one of the most physically attractive boys in the school. He was no boy; he was a fully grown man, much taller and obviously much stronger than his teacher. But he had a bad reputation and the school would be just as relieved to see the back of Tommy Wilson as he would be glad to see the back of it. The rest of the morning passed uneventfully, although Sarah became increasingly aware that her thong was riding higher and higher between her cheeks and, in turn, her pussy was becoming wetter and wetter as the tiny piece of cotton clung to her moist lips. Now the last class was about to begin; the last class of the morning; the last class of the school term. Tommy Wilson's class. All the students were in high spirits and Sarah didn't have any great urge to get them to quieten down. She just wanted this last hour to pass so that she could feel as if she had really accomplished something by completing her first year as a teacher. Some of the boys were becoming more and more boisterous, however, and she felt as if she should step in before they overstepped the mark. That was her big mistake. As she walked over to where they were gathered in a group, she asked them to keep the noise down. They separated and she saw that Tommy was in the centre of the group, showing them a photo he had taken on his phone. Trying to keep the atmosphere friendly, she said, "Can I take a look too?" Tommy grinned the insolent grin that only an eighteen year old boy can and handed her his phone. She was shocked; shocked at how clear the photo was and shocked by the fact that she was looking at own seemingly naked bottom sticking out of her car. Her face became bright red and she instinctively became the teacher again, raging against the boys sitting before her and deleting the photo from the phone. As she handed it back to Tommy, he saw what she had done and now it was his turn to be angry. Jumping to his feet, he began to shout and swear at her. Towering over her, she became quite frightened of his rage filled face and she cowered from his power, just a little. A little was enough for Tommy. Seeing his chance to finally get his revenge on this school he turned to his friends. "Grab her." Without a moment's hesitation, they did as they were told. Tommy was their leader and they would love to see more of this sexy young teacher whose arse Tommy had photographed this morning. Sarah struggled against them but she was no match for these football playing boys and very quickly found herself being thrown across her own desk. Her long hair was blinding her as she threw her head from side to side, screaming at them to release her. "Someone shut the bitch up," she heard Tommy yell and a meaty hand was placed firmly across her mouth, reducing her screams to whimpers. Her eyes were also covered by a smelly piece of cloth and she could no longer see who taking part in this assault. Starting to feel quite frightened by the turn of events, she tried to get up but her arms were grabbed and tied to two legs of her desk. With only her legs now free, she tried to kick out at her unseen assailants but they too were quickly secured and now she was really scared, lying there spread-eagled on her own desk, at the mercy of her students. As the hand was removed from her mouth she tried to talk herself out of her predicament and began to reason with her chief tormentor. "Ok, Tommy, you've had your fun. Let me go now and we'll say no more about it." "I haven't even started to have fun yet, miss. You owe me a photo." "What do you mean?" she asked, terrified, knowing exactly what he meant but not wanting to think about it. She could feel her short dress lying high up her smooth thighs and she knew it wouldn't take much for any of the students to lift it up and expose her tiny knickers to the whole class. He face burned red in embarrassment and it got even redder when she felt someone, presumably Tommy, lean across her body and begin to open the buttons at the top of the summer dress. "No, please; don't do that. Please! Let me go!" "If you don't shut up, miss, then we will shut you up and, I promise you, you won't like that." Not sure if she was more frightened or humiliated now, Sarah held her tongue and squirmed in embarrassment as she felt the buttons over her small breasts open, exposing her even smaller bra to the eyes of her class. "Wow, look at those gorgeous tits. I've got to get a photo of them." Sarah recognised the voice as that of one of the quieter girls in the class. Surely that couldn't be Maria, a girl you wouldn't even know was there unless you had marked her as present in the register. Sarah heard a lot of commotion round the desk as she lay there, prone, at their mercy. Listening to them, she realised from their comments that they had all opened their phones and were taking photos of her small breasts; those same breasts that were covered only by the tiniest bra she had ever bought. It was part of a matching set, along with her tiny knickers, and they both made her feel very sexy whenever she wore them. Now they made her feel terribly exposed and she rued the day she had ever bought them, never mind deciding to wear them to school today. As she felt more buttons on the front of her dress being opened, she shook her head until the hand over her mouth released her and she begged for mercy once more. "Please, Tommy. You must stop now. I can still forget any of this happened but you must stop now. And you must delete all those photos." "I warned you, miss; don't say you weren't warned. Diane, have you got something to gag her with." Dianne wasn't a quiet girl. Dianne was the biggest slut in the school and Sarah had always been intimidated by her, even if she was the teacher and Diane was the student. "I've got just the thing," she heard Diane say and then wondered what was going on as she heard a burst of nervous giggling from the other girls. There was no way she could know that Diane had pulled up her short skirt and was removing her own knickers, the same knickers that had been catching Tommy's cum as it poured out of her cunt since he had fucked her before school this morning. Someone pinched Sarah's nose and she was forced to open her mouth to breathe. As she did so, Diane stuffed her dirty knickers into the young teacher's mouth, making sure that the stained crotch was pressed against her tongue, making sure that Sarah could taste the mixture of Tommy's and her own cum. Sarah gagged at the taste, not sure what it was and not really wanting to think too much about it. Diane wasn't a small girl and her big knickers filled the young woman's mouth as she was silenced once and for all. Sarah was ready to cry at everything that was happening to her but further humiliation was about to be heaped upon her. As the final buttons on her dress were opened, she felt the two sides of her dress being pulled away and she lay there feeling very vulnerable. There were gasps from among the gathered throng of students as they all had their first look at her tiny knickers. "What a slut," said one of the boys. "Look at her; her knickers are soaking." Sarah sobbed into her blindfold and moaned into her gag. Her pussy was indeed dripping and she realised she hadn't felt as turned on in a very long time. Every humiliation that was being dealt to her by her students seemed to arouse her even more and now she knew that they knew the truth too. Her pussy was leaking, her knickers were soaking, and she knew they would be able to see the outline of her shaven lips through the thin cotton that was made transparent by her own juices. "Everyone getting this?" asked Tommy and Sarah knew they were taking new shots on their phones, new shots that would show her slutty underwear and her soaking cunt to anyone who saw those photos. Yet the more they humiliated her, the more aroused she became. She wasn't sure how much she would have disgraced herself if the bell for the end of class hadn't rang just then. "Well, it's time for us to go now, miss. Hope you have a nice summer and, remember, if you ever mention this to anyone then the photos will be on the internet before the police even arrive to arrest us. So think twice before you do anything stupid." With that, Tommy and the rest of the class left her to her fate. She had actually dared to relax when she had heard the bell, thinking that it might signal the end to her torment. In a way it did but her humiliation was not quite complete yet. She listened as the students all left the class and she knew they had left the door open. She would have pleaded to them to release her but that wasn't going to happen now. She was to be left, exposed, bound and at the mercy of anyone who found her. She couldn't even cry for help as Diane had obviously decided she didn't want or need her dirty knickers back. After a few moments, when the noise of the departing students had died down, she thought she heard a sound from the doorway. Her body jerked, trying to twist her head round, trying to discover the source of the noise. All of a sudden she heard the door being closed and then being locked. Footsteps came towards her and she sensed someone crouch down beside her head; a menacing voice whispered in her ear, "You still owe me a photo, miss." Sarah struggled against the binds that were holding her strapped down to her own desk. She knew that there was nothing she could do but still she struggled, still she tried to spit out Diane's dirty knickers and still her pussy leaked into her own tiny thong. "I think we can dispose of this blindfold, don't you?" asked Tommy with that same insolent grin as he uncovered her eyes. They struggled just for a moment with the light but soon were able to focus on her powerful student leaning over her. She tried to say something, tried to beg him to release her, but he just laughed. "I can't understand a thing you're saying, miss, but let me make sure that you understand me. I was very angry that you deleted my photo of your gorgeous arse so now you have to pay me back. With interest." Sarah feared in her very soul what "with interest" might mean but she didn't think she would have long to wait. She was right. Tommy took out his phone and switched the camera to video mode. He was going to make sure she paid for what she had done and he was going to have even better mementos of his last day at school than all his classmates. "Let's start with your face, shall we? We want to make sure that everyone knows exactly who is the slut that allowed her students to tie her to her desk before letting them take naughty photos of her. Now don't turn your head away, miss." Sarah had tried to shake her hair over her face to at least conceal her identity but her tormentor was having none of that. He grabbed her long dark hair and turned her to face his phone, making sure her tear stained face was fully exposed before releasing her and moving down her trembling body. The poor teacher could only lie there in her shame as her student ran his phone over every inch of her firm body, taking time as it traveled over her small breasts then down over her flat stomach until it finally rested between her outstretched legs, filming for posterity the sight of her sensitive pussy lips clearly evident through the saturated cotton of her knickers. "Very nice, miss; very nice. I think I'll call this one, "Teacher learns a new lesson." Now what shall we do next? I know, let's start on the anatomy class." Sarah was mystified, horrified, and trembling in lust but, most of all, she was terrified. She wondered what her student could possibly mean and nearly spat out Diane's disgusting knickers in fear when she saw Tommy produce a knife. "Don't worry, miss, I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to make sure I can see clearly what you've been hiding under that slutty underwear." Finally pushing out her gag with her tongue, she pleaded. "No, Tommy, please don't do that. I'm your teacher; you shouldn't be looking at me in this way. Please don't touch me." Ignoring her desperate pleas, Tommy slid his sharp knife under the thin strap between her two cups and flicked it just once. The knife slid through the thin material as if it was hardly there and Sarah felt the bra become loose around her breasts. He smiled, almost sweetly, as he brushed the tiny pieces of lace that had been almost covering her breasts aside and stood back to admire his handiwork. "You're not my teacher any more, miss; I've just left school. I suppose I shouldn't even be calling you "miss" anymore, should I? What will I call you instead? Sarah? No? How about if I call you "slut" or "whore"? I think those names would suit the way you're dressed today." When she didn't answer but simply shook her head in despair, Tommy continued. "You're enjoying this aren't you?" Not knowing what to say she whispered, "no." "No? Well then, why are your nipples so hard? Are you getting wet lying there while a young man strips you and plays with you? Let's see, shall we?" Sarah could do nothing but lie there and accept her fate, her face red and flushed from her humiliating situation. She could feel the weight of his stare as his eyes moved down her body from her naked breasts, over her stomach and down to her firmly secured legs. He took a step nearer to her and she could feel his hard cock pressing against her pussy through his trousers. She was glad that she still had her knickers on, even if they were tiny, even if they were soaking. She prayed that he would stop here and spare her the ultimate humiliation but she knew Tommy well enough to know that she was kidding herself. As if reading her thoughts, Tommy took a step back again and, once more, produced his knife. Sliding it under one side of the thin waistband and then the other, he cut through then ripped the tiny thong from under her trembling body. Tucking the soaking garment into the pocket of his jeans, he leered down at her. She had never felt so humiliated and ashamed but he wasn't finished yet. Putting away his knife, he took out his phone once more. As before, he switched it to video mode then began the journey from her face, identifying her clearly, over her engorged nipples and flushed breasts, down to her shaven pussy. Reaching out from behind the camera, he ran one finger along her wet lips, slowly inserting it, before removing it and bringing it to the front of the camera, making sure any viewer could see the juices dripping from it. Sarah could feel her pussy betraying her, getting wetter each minute as her humiliation continued, but it was when Tommy decided to show her what it was doing to him that she got really scared. He walked back to the other end of her desk and pulled out his cock, about eight inches long and at least two inches around the base. He yanked her head to the side by her long black hair and she could do nothing to stop him smearing her tightly closed lips with the drop of pre-cum already dripping from its head. "Lick it, slut, lick my cock; look at me while you're doing it and I might just delete everything that's on my phone." Sarah hated being forced into this position but if there was even the slightest chance that she might escape this nightmare with her identity still hidden she knew she had to take it. Looking him straight in the eye, she licked the new drop of moisture off the tip of his cock and Tommy nearly came there and then as he looked down at his newly submissive ex-teacher. "That's nice, slut, but now it's time to suck it. Open wide." Sarah shuddered as he repeatedly called her "slut" but there wasn't a thing she could do to stop him doing it. She burned with the embarrassing realisation that anyone else watching her suck this young man's fat cock would also call her a slut. Tommy thrust past her soft lips and plunged all the way to the back of her mouth. There was no finesse in his action; he wasn't loving her, he was fucking her and there was nothing she could do to stop him doing this either. Very soon she felt his head swell within her warm mouth and she knew he wouldn't take long to cum. Sure enough, she watched as his whole body seemed to tense and his cock exploded in her mouth, his hot spunk hitting the back of her throat and trickling down. She thought he was never going to stop as her mouth filled with his salty cum until she couldn't swallow any more and it began to drip out, past his cock and down her chin. He seemed to know when his last spurt was coming because he pulled out of her mouth and shot it across her face, branding her as the slut they both knew she had become. Sarah's Worst Day He stood there, his dripping cock inches from her face and, once more, brought out his phone. This was the shot to beat them all; his young teacher lying on her desk, her mouth open, his spunk dripping down her chin and her face streaked with a very obvious string of his white cum. She pleaded one last time. "Please, Tommy, you've had your fun. Please let me go. You promised you'd delete those photos." "Well, slut, I don't think I actually promised anything. Besides, these are priceless and they are my insurance that you won't involve the police. Now be a good girl and lie there, nice and quiet." Just to ensure that Sarah had no choice but to do just that, he replaced the blindfold, blocking out her sight and once more stuffed something wet into her mouth. She knew it wasn't Diane's big knickers as it was much smaller but there was certainly a familiar scent and taste from her new gag. Sarah sobbed once more when she realised that her ex-student had just silenced her with her own tiny knickers and the taste she recognised was that of her own pussy juices which had poured into them before he had ripped them from her helpless body. Thinking it couldn't get any worse, she heard Tommy open the door and leave her to her fate, leaving the door open for anyone to find her in her slutty position. She began to lose all track of time, aware only that she was going to be late for the Headmaster's barbeque – if she ever got there at all. She was beginning to think that she was never going to be released from this nightmare when she heard a gasp of shock as someone new appeared at her classroom door. She tried to turn her head to see who was there, tried to beg them to release her but she was prevented from doing either by her gag and her blindfold. Then she heard whoever it was step into the room and close the door. The sudden realisation that she was about to be freed made her more relieved than she would have ever thought possible and she knew she would never be able to express her gratitude enough to whoever this person was. Then she heard the key in the lock turn once more and, to her, it sounded ominous. The turn of the key had sounded so loud in the otherwise silent room and, just for a moment, Sarah feared that she was not about to be released after all; that some other man, or student, was about to use her and abuse her also. Then she became aware of the scent of this person's perfume and she relaxed, knowing that this person was a woman, and not a student. This was a mature woman's perfume, sophisticated, delicate and she began to say "thank you," even though her mouth was still stuffed with her own knickers. That was when she felt the woman's hand on her naked thigh. She sensed the person changing position and it sounded like the other woman was kneeling down. Once more, Sarah tried to relax as she imagined the woman was going to untie her ankles first, although she wished it had been her eyes and mouth that were attended to. She wanted to see who her saviour was and to thank her, over and over again. She didn't think she would ever be able to thank the other woman sufficiently but she would certainly try. But the woman wasn't kneeling down to untie Sarah's ankles. She had a very different plan in mind. She licked her lips in anticipation of her new best friend suddenly being presented to her in this way. She had lusted after Sarah ever since the young woman had joined the staff and now she had the perfect opportunity to make all her dreams come true. She smiled when her captive jerked as she kissed her way up one smooth thigh and then the other. The string of cum across Sarah's face was very obvious and it told its own story. She was not the first person to have found Sarah in this predicament and she wondered if it had been another member of staff who had cum across her friend's face. Or was it Tommy Wilson? She had seen the boy run out of the school long after the other students had left and wondered if even he would have had the nerve to do this. One thing was for sure, it wasn't just the unknown male who had been aroused. As she leaned closer to Sarah's wonderful pussy, she could easily smell the aroma of her friend's arousal and wondered if her previous "guest" had let her cum. Sarah was becoming desperate now and, once more, managed to work the knickers out of her mouth with her tongue. It was a good deal easier this time as her own tiny thong was much smaller than Diane's dirty knickers had been but the important thing was that she could speak again. Gulping in air through her dry mouth, she raised her head from the desk and, blindly, begged her new assailant. "Please, whoever you are, please let me go. You don't have to take off my blindfold; just untie my hands and I'll do the rest. Please, you must let me go." But the other woman knew there was only one thing she MUST do and that was taste Sarah's pussy. She began to kiss her prisoner's legs once again, up one and down the other, making sure she never went anywhere near her real target. Sarah started to squirm under the insistent mouth and, just as she had with Tommy, she could feel her pussy start to moisten and wondered if her body was really going to betray her. Suddenly she felt another kiss; it was where she longed for it be and where she dreaded. Those unknown lips started at the bottom of her wet slit and kissed all the way to the top, ending at her clit and sending a shiver through her whole body. But now she knew this stranger was going to tease her, to torment her and had no intention of releasing her. "Please, I don't know who you are but you must know I'm a teacher here and you mustn't do this to me. Please just release me and I'll never say a word to anyone." In response, the warm lips returned to her legs, up and down her smooth thighs, once again avoiding her desperate pussy lips. Sarah understood that this tease was not kissing another woman for the first time, she knew exactly what she was doing. She couldn't stop her body from squirming on top of her own desk, as the kisses eventually began to get closer and closer to her slit. Finally, when she felt those soft lips working up her own wet lips once more, she could no nothing but sigh in pleasure. When her assailant's mouth reached her swollen clit for a second time, Sarah instinctively raised her hips to meet that same mouth. Her new lover wrapped her arms around Sarah's thighs, drawing her closer to her greedy mouth and, finally, began to lick her pussy with a passion neither woman had ever felt before. The feeling of power over the younger woman was intoxicating and, as she ran her tongue up and down Sarah's pussy, she knew her young captive was enjoying it as much as she was. As she began to slightly thrust her tongue between Sarah's opening lips, she smiled as the young teacher moaned in uncontrolled delight. But, much as she wanted to prolong this, she knew she had to get to get ready for the barbecue so she decided to crank things up a notch. Sarah couldn't help herself; she was secured to her desk and she could do nothing to release her arms and nothing to escape the tongue that was taking her to new levels of pleasure. It was when the unknown woman started to focus on her clit that Sarah felt her hips rising off the desk, forcing herself harder against the woman's mouth, moaning and screaming as the pleasure rolled over her in waves. She couldn't stop that tongue, nor did she want to as it lapped faster and faster at her engorged clit and she knew it was going to happen. She knew she was going to cum; she was going to cum on her own desk, in her own classroom and it was all going to happen on the tongue and mouth of a woman she couldn't even see. Her fingers tightened against the side of the desk as she cried out and her orgasm finally reached its incredible peak. The tongue never stopped as she came again and again, not even when she finally started to come down again and her body relaxed. As her breathing slowly returned to normal, and she was about to beg once more for a different kind of release, her unknown lover took one last lick of her pussy, gave one last final kiss to her clit, and then she got up. She kissed Sarah lightly on the cheek, and before the shattered woman on the desk could say anything, she heard the door open once more was left alone to recover. Sarah lay there, sure that her own body was flushed from the biggest orgasm of her life, and began to realise that once again she was exposed to any one else who happened to walk by. The next person who walked by, however, did not keep quiet. "What on earth is going on here?" "Oh, no," thought Sarah. Could the day get any worse? What was the Headmaster still doing here? He should be long gone, making sure everything was ready for the barbecue. She shivered in embarrassment as the thought hit her that he was looking at her naked body and she was sure he would be able to see how puffy her pussy lips were; she was sure that he would know she had just cum. He immediately ripped off her blindfold and she couldn't tell if his face was angry or bemused. Without saying a word, he untied her arms and legs and helped her to sit up. She blushed once more as she saw him staring at her small breasts, her nipples still erect, and she shuddered when she saw the smears of her own juices on the tops of her thighs. Wrapping her dress around herself, she forced herself to lift her eyes and look at him. "I don't have time to deal with this right now. We are both late for the barbecue and my wife will be wondering where I've got to. Lucky for you I always take a walk round all the classrooms as a final check on the last day of term. Now make yourself decent and I will meet you in my car. No, I don't have time to argue. My guests will be waiting for me and you are one of them. So, if you want to be back here next year, you will do as you are told and meet me in five minutes by the car." The journey to the Headmaster's house passed in total silence. He was obviously angry with her and she was too embarrassed to even look at him. She sat there in the passenger seat, cowering, thankful that her boss was unaware that she was sitting there, the picture of respectability, all but for one detail. Her last assailant had obviously decided to take her knickers as a souvenir and Sara was very conscious of her bare bottom, and her bare pussy, sitting on the cold leather seat of her Headmaster's car. She could only hope that her pussy didn't leak any more juices and leave a puddle beneath her for him to see when they got out. When they arrived at his large house, the Headmaster made straight for the party and assumed his role as host. Sarah was forced to make small talk among the rest of the staff and she realised that her plan to wear her short dress had gone badly wrong when she was naked underneath. The male teachers, and even one or two of the female ones, seemed to realise that she was uncomfortable and they were becoming more and more amorous as the drink loosened their inhibitions. After a few hours the Headmaster gathered them all round to make his traditional end of school year address. He began by reviewing the year and then went on to wish them all a happy summer with their friends and loved ones, hoping that they would all come back refreshed for the year ahead. Sarah was just about to believe that her nightmare day was almost over and she would be allowed to go home when the Headmaster announced that he had one more point to address. "As you all know we have had a new teacher this year and, at the end of her probationary year, I think it is only fair to inform you of my decision whether or not she should return after the holidays. Until today, Sarah has proved herself an exemplary young teacher but now I have to share with you all something that, in all my years of teaching, I have never come across. "In her very own classroom, I found Sarah bound and gagged on top of her own desk, her body exposed to anyone who happened to walk by. Luckily for her, it was I who found her but this is something which must be investigated further. Sarah, would you please come over here?" The poor teacher felt as if every member of staff had turned to stare at her. She had been quietly trying to retreat backwards through the other congregated teachers when the Headmaster had begun to speak of her earlier predicament. There had been gasps of shock when her colleagues discovered what had happened to her but there was also some giggling and some leering glances. Now her faced burned bright red once more with the public humiliation she was facing. She began to make her way slowly to the front of the assembled guests, trying to ignore some whispered comments from the other teachers. Standing beside the Headmaster, before all her colleagues, men and women, she looked at her Headmaster questioningly. "Face your fellow teachers, Sarah. Thank you. This young woman was found in a very compromising position that could have ended up with her being attacked or, even worse, of corrupting one of her students. Now, she has denied being complicit with those who put her in this position but I intend to get to the bottom of this matter and I intend to do so right now. To enable me to do this correctly I will need the help of a couple of the male teachers; any volunteers?" Sarah was almost bowled over by the rush of male colleagues volunteering. Eventually, the Headmaster made his choices; Mr Beattie and Mr Mason, the two football coaches. Sarah wasn't sure what was about to happen but she became even more alarmed when the two very fit men suddenly came up from behind her and took her by the arms. As they led her over to a long wooden table on the furthest edge of the garden and bent her over it, they secured her legs to the wooden legs and held her arms outstretched in front of her over the far end of the table. Sarah knew that every eye there was on her short dress and her bare legs, while all her colleagues were, just as she was, wondering what was to happen next. She looked round at the other teachers and saw that they had all gathered closer, obviously not wanting to miss a single thing. All she could think was that this was so unfair and so humiliating. What did the Headmaster have in store fore her? She was about to find out. She saw the Headmaster walk over to her, stand beside her and turn once again to address the staff while she trembled in fear. "The first thing we must determine is whether this young woman deserved to be treated the way she was and I think the best way to make sure she didn't tease someone into tying her up is to examine her underwear. With that Sarah felt her short dress being raised over her bottom and thrown across the small of her back. There was a collective intake of breath as all the men were treated to the sight of Sarah's beautiful, naked bottom; all the women had the same view, some were jealous, some were as turned on as much as the men. One woman, the one who had made Sarah cum earlier with her tongue, licked her lips with that same tongue and savoured the memory of their brief dalliance this afternoon. Sarah hung her head in shame and knew that this was so unfair. Even if she had only been wearing her tiny thong at least her arse hole would be covered. "It would appear that you were not entirely blameless for your predicament, Sarah, and I think it is only appropriate that I punish you now, in front of your colleagues, so that we can all forget this whole episode and resume our celebrations. Do you agree? If you do, then we will be delighted to welcome you back next year as a fully fledged member of staff; if you don't, I'm afraid I would have to inform the Education Board that you are not morally responsible enough to be a teacher. What's it to be?" Sarah knew she had no choice. With a reference like that she would never find another teaching job anywhere; she had to submit. Choking back a sob of despair and shame she nodded her head and agreed to submit. She tried to prepare herself for what she knew was coming but, when the Headmaster's huge hand first slapped her upturned bottom cheeks, she couldn't help but cry out in pain. "Count for me," instructed the Headmaster. Sarah wasn't sure if he was talking to her but as the slaps rained down on her poor bottom each one was met by an echoing cry from the crowd of teachers. SLAP! "ONE!" SLAP! "TWO!" SLAP! "THREE!" And so it went on, each slap pushing Sarah harder and harder against the edge of the wooden table until, once again, she found her pussy rubbing against something hard. Somewhere among the slaps, the pleasure slowly began to take over from the pain and in her mind the rest of the staff disappeared as Sarah's world was centred on the pleasure rising from between her legs. It was just about to get to the best bit when suddenly the spanking stopped and the crowd went quiet. "No, no, no!" she cried in frustration. The Headmaster had begun to tire but when he heard her wail in her lust, he found new strength to start again. This time the man's hand came down rapidly on both cheeks and Sarah's poor body coursed with pain anew. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! There was no stopping the cruel Headmaster now and Sarah's bottom was soon as red as her face; still he went on. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! She was crying from the pain, from the humiliation, from the fact that she knew she had done nothing to deserve this. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Just when he was about to give up again, the Headmaster looked down at the young member of his staff and saw her legs were moving of their own accord. He looked closer and could see that her young pussy was moist and starting to open. Convinced more than ever that he was punishing a whore of a girl he resumed his spanking with renewed vigour. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Sarah was still wriggling, trying to free herself but the more she did, the more she felt her pussy rubbing against the hard table edge. She kept telling herself to lie still but the pleasure had started again even though her bottom was being severely punished. The more he spanked her, the more she wriggled, the harder she banged against the table's edge and the greater the pleasure became. She could feel her juices running down her bare legs and, even though she was embarrassed at the thought of cumming in front of her colleagues, she knew too that the pleasure was stronger than the pain, even stronger than her shame. Just when she thought she was about to reach another wonderful peak, the spanking stopped. There was silence behind her as she felt her legs being untied and she slowly pushed herself up before turning round. Facing her colleagues, her face as red as her bottom, she smiled uncertainly. Her legs felt like jelly as she smoothed her short dress down and fixed her hair. Unsure what to do next, she simply walked back through the crowd of teachers and kindly asked the Headmaster's wife to call her a taxi. The Headmaster just stared after her in amazement. He was quite certain that, if he had continued, she would have had an orgasm in front of them all. Well, he couldn't have that. He was a respectable man, a pillar of society and his wife was there. Nevertheless, he would certainly be offering her a job. He was going to make a point of getting to know Sarah a lot better in the years to come. His wife, on the other hand, had already got to know this young woman very well. As she escorted her out to her taxi, she wondered when would be an appropriate time to return her knickers. She couldn't wait to taste that young pussy again.