2 comments/ 15489 views/ 1 favorites The Cane By: MissNyx She never took her eyes from him. He entered as he should, wearing only ankle and wrist cuffs. They were the beautiful set she'd had fashioned for him. The leather soft and supple, they fitted him perfectly, no studs or adornments of any kind, he needed none, he was a beautiful man a delight to behold and the simple elegant cuffs he wore signaled for all to see that he was hers owned body and soul by her. For a large and powerfully built man, he move with the grace of a dancer, the economy of his movement was faultless to behold. In one fluid movement he came and knelt before her, bowed his head to her, remaining silent. She smiled. Leaning forward she caressed his cheek tenderly, her long red nails tracing softly across his skin. Her voice a whispered purr "My sweet sweet boy." She smiles as she felt a shiver run through his body at her touch. "Yours," he whispered. He kept his eyes downcast as she rose, from his position, he could see the tips of her scarlet thigh boots, she trailed her hand over his shoulder as she moved around him. Viewing him, surveying him, assessing him. Kneeling behind him, she clicked a padlock onto the rings of his ankle cuffs, securing them together with a short length of chain. She then moved to stand before him, her legs straddling his kneeling form she deftly fastened a tall posture collar around his neck, this brought his head up and for the first time he looked up into her face. This was a man, who would held himself proudly, no simpering sniveling unic, but in his eyes she saw no hint of rebellion, no hint of anything but total acceptance of her complete sovereignty over him. He was hers, to do with as she wished. As she leaned close to him to lock the small silver padlock into place, she felt him shudder and she smiled. She knew that her essence filled his nostrils that once more he breathed in her scent and it thrilled him. She cupped his chin, tilting his head further back so she could better look into his eyes, she whispered "Who's?" His reply came in a hoarse sigh of utter devotion, "Yours." This was her boy and she knew him, knew him better than perhaps he knew himself, knew his fears and his desires, knew his strength and his endurance. Fastening a leash to the D ring at the front of his posture collar, she gave a sharp tug. Silently he stood and followed her. The crisp clean click of her heels contrasted sharply with the near soundless pad of his bare feet on the paved floor. She walked at a brisk pace, tugging on his leash occasionally to force him to move more quickly. Slowing her pace only marginally to accommodate his difficulty negotiating the garden steps, she led him out into the large terraced garden. Moving across the gravel path she felt him stumble, but did not slacken the pace at which she walk, He scurried to keep up with her... Abruptly she stopped, turned looked deep into his eyes and smiled. She produced a leather hood from the small pouch she carried over her shoulder and fixed it firmly in place over his head, pulling the leather thronging tight, he stood motionless, now in complete darkness, the sounds of the garden muffled by the hood. She set off in the direction of a large oak tree at the centre of the garden; he followed her, his stride confident in her ability to keep him safe from harm. Upon reaching the tree, she guided him to lean forward, his chest pressed against its rough bark. With practiced skill she lashed red silk ropes through his wrist cuffs and tied his arms around the trunk. With still more rope, she circled the truck, binding him to its trunk in a tortures embrace. Finally through an eye hook hidden at the base of the trunk she secured his ankles. Once he was firmly secured, she stepped very close, so close she could feel the heat of his body against her skin, smell the scent of his sweat. Through the thick leather of the black hood he wore, he heard her voice purring close to his ear, "Mine." An involuntary shiver ran through his body, this made her smile, as she stroked his bare back lightly with her nails. Purring soft words of comfort offering tender touches before, without warning, she rakes her nails harsh down the length of his spine. His muscles tensed, but he remained silent. Seeing the red tracks her nails had left on his skin she seemed pleased. Leaning beside the tree were a collection of canes she had left there earlier. Taking up the thinnest of them, she stepped back. With the speed of lightening, she brought the cane down across his exposed buttock, instantly red welts appeared. 6 quick strokes produced a starred pattern across his ass. His body went rigid, and he sucked air had through the zipped mouth hole of the leather hood. Before his body had time to relax, she stepped in close behind him, pressing the full length of her body against his, licking a bead of sweat from between his shoulder blades. Purring softly into his ear, 'Such a good boy," she murmured. After selecting a thicker cane she stepped back and began working with accomplished skill to stripe his butt. Never landing on the same place twice she paused from time to time to move close to him, telling him what a good boy he was. Softly running her long nails across his tender buttocks or slapping his bared ass hard with her open palm, overlaying a bright hand print on the red welts of the canes harsh kiss. At each pause he did not know if the touch would be tender or cruel. With each temporary halt she selected a new cane, each slightly different from the last. Longer, shorter, thicker more flexible, stiffer, each cane leaving its own unique mark on his buttocks and thighs. His body gleamed with sweat and his breathing came in rough gasps, her breathing became a panting caress against his skin. Her eyes shone with delight. She was so proud of her boy and she told him so. Finally she stepped back and surveyed her handiwork. His bottom appeared a mass of unforgiving red welts. Slowly she caressed his back and buttocks, feeling the heat the welts gave off, the goose bumped texture of his tortured behind. With infinite tenderness she removed his hood. Tenderly she finger combed his sweaty hair, soft lips brushing against his neck and ear, purring words of pride. Quickly she untied the ropes that had held him captive and she stood strong and tall, allowing his weakened body to lean against her, allowing him to draw strength from her. After a moment or two standing together in this intimate embrace she guided him to a blanket that she had arranged on the ground under the shade of the oak. Lying down beside him she gathered him to her, stroking his skin softly, pressing her lips softly against his sweat soaked skim. He nuzzled against her, clinging to her, quiet sobs racked his body and he clung to her as if his life depended on it. Drawing strength from her, they lay together quiet and still, him cradled in her arms. This was her boy and she was proud of him. The Cane Until fairly recently I'd never really been involved in contrived or non-spontaneous sex. Whilst I was younger and with my husband, we had messed around with me dressing up, both of us tying the other up and some other stuff like that, but most of what we did was spur of the moment. We didn't usually think up new things, plan them and act them out in a calculated manner. That just wasn't us. When we wanted to fuck we did and to hell with plans and procedures. True, when he'd persuaded me to do glamour poses for him to photograph they had to be arranged and occasionally I would dress up for him and surprise him when he came home from work. Sometimes I became a little aroused during the day and would greet him dressed in sexy undies. I had a special set for that. Black bra, panties, a waspie with suspenders and long seamed stockings. The classic erotic lingerie. What was special about it was the sizes of the bra and waspie. The former was a whole cup size smaller than my 35 d and the waspie was a tight 23 waist and 34 inch hips. My body really requires 25 or 26 inches for my waist and 36 for my somewhat bulbous hips. Thus, the gear made me, as he described it the first time I wore it, 'deliciously overflowing from my underwear.' It also made him want me and usually he'd have me there and then, before dinner, often in the hallway against a wall or on all fours. A bit like an aperitif really. The idea, however, of hoods, leather, rubber or latex gear, butt plugs, acting out dominatrix and sub scenes and the various other acts associated with such slightly deviant practices never really appealed. Not that either of us had anything against mild BDSM. No, we were both quite adventurous and in the right circumstances we probably could have been persuaded to indulge. However, the circumstances never came about and doing such things by ourselves struck us as faintly ridiculous. I'm sure we'd have gained more fun and laughter from him in a latex thong or me brandishing a cat o' nine tails than we would have found sexual stimulation. After we separated amicably so I could return to London to follow my career that had taken me back there and he stayed in Copenhagen my eyes were opened, a lot. I was a thirty something year old on the loose. Being born and raised in the sexually free thinking Danish society I was used to all types of sex being freely available. I had never really thought about it that much for along with most of my contemporaries, both male and female, I looked at sex as something to be enjoyed when and with whom it took my fancy. Us Danes have a totally different concept of faithfulness than the Brits or Americans. I have experienced both societies first hand for having been born in Copenhagen I was reared in both the US and the UK and had a large number of my sexual experiences in those countries. That said, the basic conditioning of a sexually very free society never leaves one, as is the reverse I imagine. After we separated I still went 'home' to Copenhagen most months and we then did what married people are supposed to do, fuck like rabbits for two days. Alone in London and with the dreaded forty approaching at an alarmingly fast rate I knew I had to build a new life, and quickly. Fairly easily I made myself a new circle of friends, well acquaintances I suppose, both in the cyberland of chat rooms and in the harsher one of reality. I developed an active social life and started dating. In fact it all probably worked too well as, for a year or so I was rushed off my feet with my social whirl. The being rushed off my feet often, meant off my feet and onto my back! That wasn't a good thing as far as my relationship with my husband was concerned, but then c'est la vie! Whilst in Copenhagen nothing would have been thought of my behaviour over the next year or so, it did raise eyebrows amongst some of my female friends in London and may have well raised other things amongst the male contingent! In Denmark it would be treated as the norm and totally socially acceptable to as it's termed in the UK and US to sleep around. Over there it really is 'if two people are attracted to each other and want to fuck, they do.' In London, New York and most other cities everything is so much more complicated. At first I tried to be a Dane overseas and act and behave as if I was still in my home country. That didn't really work. In that year I was too easy. I slept around. Maybe it was necessary. Possibly I needed the excess to find and appreciate the norm. Chatting to men, and women come to that, on the net widened my sexual outlook considerably. I exchanged views on aspects of sex that I knew little about and certainly had never experienced. It made me even more broad minded and acceptable of sexual '"different strokes for different folks.' After that first mad year I settled down. I found the equilibrium, the balance between leading a Danish and a British lifestyle and between getting the sex I needed and being overly promiscuous. It was during that year that I met and started going out with Adrian. A widowed advertising executive in his late forties he had two children, both boys, who were away at boarding school. He lived in a rambling town house just off Hoxton Square in Shoreditch, East London. The area, which had been depressed for years, was making a strong comeback with everywhere being gentrified and at that time was rapidly becoming the trendiest area in all of London. We met at a dinner party, where I think we were set up as blind dates. We dined together a few days later, got on well, went on two dates then slept together. He was good, well more OK really, in bed. The first few time we had sex there was something just a little wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on what. There was a sort of edginess on his part. Sure, he took his time and made sure that I was suitably aroused by fairly lengthy foreplay. But that was all a bit mechanistic and almost as if he was making love to me by following instructions from a manual. Despite that he produced the appropriate reactions from me, multiple and satisfying orgasms. He was a well-built guy in his mid-forties but, slightly embarrassingly, he was a couple of inches shorter than me. Good looking with a full head of hair Ade, as I usually called him, had very bad eyesight and had to wear thick spectacles, as his particular stigmatism prevented him wearing contacts. A few weeks later I arranged to spend the weekend with him at his house which was just three miles from my Docklands flat. We had dinner on the Friday night at a Vietnamese restaurant in Kingsland Road, walked to his house, slightly tipsy holding hands and stopping to kiss every few yards in doorways and dark places. In one he slid his hand in my blouse and then in another he scooped my breasts from my bra. On the remainder of the short walk through the crowded streets of Hoxton we were heavily aroused, very excited and totally tuned into sex, especially as both of my breasts were out of my bra and the extended nipples were making large outlines in the thin top. He fucked me in the hallway of his house. He fucked me just like they did it in The Thomas Crown Affair, the second one I mean with Piers Brosnan, half way up a staircase. He didn't undress me but merely pushed my leather skirt up, tugged my panties down round my thighs and fucked me like that. And it was great. It was exactly what the circumstances and our mood demanded. A hard, fast, raw and dirty fuck with no edginess. Perhaps it was more satisfying because his instruction manual didn't cover how to fuck half way up a staircase! We drank more and then went to bed and there he didn't fuck me. No there, in his very masculine bedroom we made love. We made long, lingering, tender and pretty satisfying love. We'd taken the bottle of wine to bed with us and after we'd both climaxed, well with me it was after several climaxes, I was leaning back against his outstretched legs sipping my wine totally satisfied and fully at peace with life. "Can you reach the bottle Michaela?" he asked, adding. "It's a little difficult for me, as I have such a lovely lump leaning on me." Smiling I turned towards the bedside table but saw that I wouldn't be able to reach. I rolled over so that I lay across Adrian's lap, my legs bent with his thighs pressing into my tummy. As I stretched to pick up the bottle so I felt his hands on my bottom. He stroked me murmuring. "Mmmm that's a lovely sight Michy." I didn't reply or move but lay there enjoying his touch on that part of my body that has always been very sensitive. "Very, very nice" he went on running a finger along the crease between the cheeks that he continued stroking with his other hand. "Is that nice?" "Mmmm" I sighed probably slightly wiggling it a bit as I revelled in the lovely feelings his hands were giving me. He had a lovely, light but nicely enquiring touch and I was just getting used to his gentle yet persistent touch when suddenly I firstly heard, 'thwack' then felt a sharp pain on my left cheek as he smacked me. I cried out and was just about to ask what the hell was going on, for I thought more were on their way, when I felt his hand pressing softly and gently caressing me right where the blow had landed. "I just couldn't resist it Michaela" he said huskily adding. "You have the most smackable bottom." As it happened, I then had a call on my mobile so nothing more happened that night along those lines. We spent the next day together shopping in town and buying each other presents that we'd agreed we'd open that evening after we'd had the dinner that we'd planned to cook together. A perfect, new lover's week-end. We cooked together and then ate a great meal washed down with a crisp Chablis and then a hugely extravagant bottle of Chateau Talbot claret that cost us £60 in Harrods. We were both feeling warm and mellow as we sat down on the large sofa in the upstairs lounge that was lit merely by the street lamps outside. We were almost immediately in each other's arms kissing and touching each other. We'd by now become pretty comfortable and relaxed together so I was able, without fear of being considered too forward, able to match him touch for touch and caress for caress. So as my blouse came undone I slipped the buttons of his shirt open. As his hands found my breasts inside the white, lace, totally see through bra so mine ran across his nicely hairy chest, As his enquiring fingers edged inside my bra running across the smooth flesh of my breasts and the slightly bumpier skin of my areola so mine found and frequently pinched his nipples. His belt and zip were opened at about the same time as my skirt was pushed up my legs and his erection was bared just as the skirt was bunched around my waist. So I gazed at his penis as he looked at my bald, pubic mound inside the white net panties. And finally my hand wrapped around his rampantly straining cock just as his fingers found the damp outline of my drenched cunt inside my panties. "Here or shall we go to bed?" he asked. Bending forward with my eyes looking up at his I brought the bulbous end of his uncircumcised cock towards my mouth as I smiled and said. "I'm a little too busy to tramp up the stairs Adrian so make love to me here." Adrian had the highest quality, thickest pile carpet I'd ever seen or ever laid upon. Rolling around on it as his trousers and boxers and my skirt and panties came off it felt like velvet. It was so smooth and soft and just perfect to make love on. "Lay back" I whispered pushing Adrian and positioning myself kneeling across his thighs. Pressing against his chest as I pushed his face from my tits I smiled. "Just lay there and let me fuck you. It's such a lovely feeling, such a wantonly decadent sensation as a woman impales herself on her lover's erection and sinks down on it until the lips of her pussy are pressed against his pubic mound. And that's just how it was as I started to fuck Adrian. My breasts jiggling around all over the place, my hair cascading over my face, I pumped myself up and down on him, We both grasped my bouncing tits at the same time jointly enjoying the sensation of squeezing and pinching the soft flesh. I was soon getting so aroused that I would either have to stop or I'd cum. "God yes, oh shit Adrian I'm cumming, I'm cumming" I moaned as the rivers of sensations rushed through my body. "Yes darling, yes" he groaned back as we both held our bodies still with his cock as far in me as it could possibly be. "Cum for me, cum on my big, hard cock." "Oooooooooooooooooooooooo, arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh," I grunted as I did cum, hard and long. Collapsing onto him his erection still buried inside me, I wrapped my arms around his neck kissing him deeply and whispering. "Thank you, thank, you, thank you darling, that was amazing." As I lay there I felt his hands on my bottom stroking it. He then fumbled around my legs pulling them so they were stretched out behind me, slightly open and resting full length with his between them. "Put your legs on top of mine Michy" he whispered between planting kisses all over my face and mouth. I raised them and laid them on top of his. In that position I felt so wonderfully full. Little tremors from my orgasm were still running through my body causing me to sigh and moan with the pleasure I had received from my orgasm and what I was getting now from being kissed and having Adrian fully erect inside me and from the anticipation of what was surely to come soon. I hadn't expected what happened next though. Adrian suddenly started lightly smacking each of my bum cheeks in turn. Not very hard but enough to make quite obvious smacking sounds and to give me sharp, short shocks of slight pain with each smack. I didn't know what to do or what to say so I simply laid there as he lightly spanked my bottom. I could feel it starting to sting and becoming warm. "Is that Ok Michy?" He asked as I grunted what he must have thought was an ok for he continued smacking and then caressing each cheek as once again my legs fell open dropping to either side of his closed legs. "Is it good, is it ok?" He asked again as now his fingers stroked along the opened crease of my bum and down further to rub along my soaked lips. It really was an amazing combination of sensations. He and I were kissing. We were mixing deep, lips wide open, tongue searching, mouths squirming kisses with little light pecks and licks all over the others face and hair. He was inside me. He was buried deep in my pussy, filling me and sending explosions of feelings through me as either he or I moved. Then I realised that he was spanking my bottom. Slapping and smacking the softness of my spreaded cheeks in turn. As much as anything else it was the sound his hand made on my, now, smarting skin that was, in some ways, the most immediate sensation that hit me. Each smack seemed so loud, almost like the crack of a whip. Each little explosion of sound was then followed by stinging, smarting blast of pain that as blow after blow came down became more of a deep warmth than a hurt or an ache. This was all new to me. And surprisingly I was enjoying it. Whether it was the smacking together with everything else, or whether it would have happened in any case I don't know, but suddenly we were both climaxing. And climaxing very heavily indeed. I was moaning and grunting, covering his face in little kisses and stroking his hair and head with my hands as I felt him ejaculating into the condom. "Oh God Michy, oh yes. Oh fucking hell. Fucking hell" he moaned as he thrust his hips upwards lifting his bottom and me from the floor whilst he shot his stuff into me for what seemed an age, but probably was no more than ten to fifteen seconds I suppose. We lay there on the floor for quite some time kissing and stroking, whispering niceties to each other and simply enjoying the mellowness of that wonderful post orgasm time. I could feel Adrian getting softer and then as I moved a little he slipped out. I rolled off him and we lay side by side until I got up and used the bathroom. I had a quick shower and slipped into one of his bathrobes hanging on the back of the door. We sat around drinking coffee, chatting and listening to music for quite some time. Nothing was said about what had happened and later we went to bed and made sweet and tender love I couldn't, though, get the smacking of my bottom out of my mind. It had hit a chord inside me. It had stimulated something that must have been lying dormant in the deeper recesses of my psyche for ages. Every time I thought of his hand hitting my bottom or me lying there in anticipation my heart started to beat faster. I didn't know why. I'd never yearned for it, although, as many women so I've read and heard about, there was a tiny part of me that was intrigued by the idea. As it happens Adrian was away on business in America for the next week or so, and as we often did when he was away, we kept in touch by yahoo messenger. That way as I worked at home or he worked in his LA office we could leave the PCs on and have periodic written 'conversations.' It also meant that I could chat to some of the people I'd made friends with on there and, more pointedly, it meant that I could cruise around some sites to learn more about my new found interest. I was absolutely amazed at just how much information there was about corporal punishment in general and spanking in particular. It almost seemed as though everyone was interested in it and the act itself was as good as commonplace. I read about the bond that was formed and was necessary between the 'master' and 'pupil;' the trust there had to be between the two of them; the fusion of dominating and submitting; the combining of pain and pleasure and of firmness and gentleness and of the ritualistic manner in which most couples went about it. Through the very brief exposure with Adrian I was able to associate with some, but not all that I read. What I was able to do in spades, though, was recognise my interest in and, likely desire for more, spanking. Often, the 'conversations' on messenger with Adrian became quite colourful and occasionally we'd give into the feelings of arousal and we'd mutually masturbate. Sometimes in writing and sometimes on the phone we'd tell each other what we were doing, gradually getting to the point where we wanted to cum. It became a point of pride for us to try to arrange simultaneous climaxes. Something that seems easier to do when together than when on the end of a PC! So it wasn't a surprise to me when a window popped open mid-afternoon a few days later as I was working at home. It wasn't even that much of a surprise when I read. "What are you wearing?" That had become an in joke of ours. I'd mentioned to him once that I had tried chat rooms in the past and one of the questions I was frequently asked was just that. I'd also told him that it was usually then followed by enquiries about my underwear. Smiling I typed back. "Earrings and a big smile." I laughed when his reply came back. "You're overdressed wipe the smile from your face." We exchanged pleasantries for a while about how we were, the weather, his trip, my work and our plans for the day. "Looking forward to Thursday?" he asked referring to his expected arrival home. "Yes of course." "Can you stay the night?" "Probably, but will you be up to it after the flight and the jet lag?" "I'll be up for anything to get the chance of all night with you?" "You won't be able to stay the pace; I'll come round for the evening and then go home. Ok?" "If you don't agree to stay the night I'll have to give you a spanking." "Oh yeah, promises, promises," I typed just as the phone rang. "BRB Phone" I wrote to him. The Cane Talking to a business colleague I watched Adrian's words coming up on my screen. "No Michy, not just promises now is it 'cos you've had some haven't you? You've had some smacking, some spanking haven't you?" Tucking the phone into the crook of my neck I tapped. "Yes" as I felt a little shiver running through me reading what he'd just put. "And you liked it didn't you?" There was a pause before he typed again. "You did didn't you Michaela? You enjoyed me spanking your bum didn't you?" I wasn't at all sure just where this was leading but I could feel my arousal building up and that prompted me to again tap in ye s adding quickly. "I'm still on the phone Adrian." "That's ok just read and type yes or no as appropriate." "Ok" "You did like it didn't you?" "Yes." "It made you cum didn't it?" "Yes." "It made you cum very hard didn't it?" "Yes." Listening to the lawyer droning on about the agreement he was drafting for a takeover I was involved with I was becoming rather befuddled. Listening and talking business but reading and typing sex is confusing, difficult and quite exciting. The danger is that sometimes you can say what you mean to type and I was scared I might find myself asking my agent to spank my bum! "And you want me to do it again don't you?" I didn't type anything for a while. "Don't you Michaela? You want me to spank you again don't you? Spank your bottom, smack your bum until I make you cum. That's what you want isn't it?" I found my heart was pounding and my breath was coming in pants and spurts. I felt warm and my body was tingling all over. My breasts felt so full and heavy as the words on the screen smashed into my mind. "Don't you, don't you, don't you?" I read. "I'll call you back" I gasped to the agent as those amazingly arousing words exploded onto my screen. "You want your bum smacked until it tingles, until it goes all red and is so hot you could cook toast on it. That's what you want isn't it?" "Yes." "And then you want me to soothe it, kiss it, love it and make it better don't you?" "Yes." "And then as I love it and kiss you'll want me to fuck you until you cum and cum and cum won't you Michaela?" "Yes Adrian yes I will." My mobile started to ring. "So what exactly are you really wearing?" Adrian asked down the phone. The tightness of his voice told me that the messenger exchange had excited him as it had me. "Tracky trousers and a tee," I replied, adding. "Hi how are you?" "Hi. Very well but fucking horny now. And under them?" I'd half expected him to ring so I was telling the truth when I replied. "Not much." "What then?" "Just a thong?" "No bra?" "No." "You're a dirty girl aren't you Michy?" "Am I?" "Yes. Dirty and naughty and you know what dirty naughty girls have to have, don't you?" "I think I can guess," I said quite surprised but nevertheless excited at the way the chat was going. "And what do you guess Michy?" "Punishment I suppose" I was amazed to hear myself saying. "Yes but what sort of punishment?" I found it hard to say what was obvious and my hesitation caused him to say. "How would you like me to punish you Michaela?" It just came blurting out then. "Spank me I suppose Adrian." "Yes of course but where shall I spank you?" It actually took a lot for me to say what I felt but after a moment or two I said very quietly. "On my bottom. I want you to spank my bottom." "Jesus Michy this is fucking amazing I'm as hard as a rock here. Are u wet?" I couldn't help laughing as I returned to the formula of when I was on the phone. "Yes." "Very?" "Yes." "Are your nipples hard?" "Yes," I replied squeezing one through the tee shirt. "They're very hard." "You're feeling them aren't you?" "Yes." I pulled the tee out from the elasticated waist band of the silver coloured track trousers. "Are you stroking your tits yet?" "Just about to," I said sliding my hand inside the tee and cupping one of my breasts. I squeezed and stroked that. "Mmmmmmmmm." "You want to cum Michy?" "Soon yes, do you?" "Of course." "Talk more to me," I asked squeezing and caressing my breasts in turn. It really did feel marvellous and I knew that when I wanted to I'd be able to cum. "When I get home on Thursday I want to spank you. May I? Would you like that?" As Adrian changed the subject back to that intriguing and now very exciting topic I was pinching and pulling both of my nipples at the same time for they were aching so much from the sexual tension that was building up in me. He didn't wait for a reply before asking. "What are you doing Michy? Are you undressed yet?" "I'm pinching my nipples," I whispered in the tiny phone cradled in my neck. "Hold on I'm going to put the phone on loudspeaker." "I guess you do need both hands with tits your size," he said clearly smiling. "What are you doing?" I asked. "Lying on my bed stark bollock naked with a raging hard on that I'm stroking. Can you visualise that Michy?" "Mmmm yes I can, it's a nice vision as well" "Are you undressed?" He asked again. "No, no I'm not?" "Will you for me?" "Yes." I spoke into the small microphone of the mobile lying close to me on my desk explaining exactly what I was doing. "I've pulled the tee over my head and my hair's all messed up but falling down around my shoulders." "What do your tits feel like Michy?" "Big, heavy, full, aching" I croaked again cupping and squeezing them, "They'll feel amazing on Thursday when I spank you. You won't believe what it's going to be like." "Why what's going to happen?" "Well first you have to promise to do exactly what I tell you. OK?" "Yes, yes I will." "OK well you have to understand Michaela that spanking is more than just the actual smacking." "How do you mean?" I asked my hands roaming all over my breasts sending wonderfully delicious tingles through my entire body. "Is it nice?" He asked out of the blue? "What?" "Making love to your big soft tits? I can hear it in your voice." "Mmmmm it's wonderful." "Then take your trackies off for me. Stand up, look in the mirror, take them off and tell me as you do it." "Mmmm my nipples are so hard, my breasts feel as if they're about to explode," I said into the phone as I looked in the long mirror, my hands sliding into the waist of the trousers. "Take them off Michy, get your trousers off." "Yes Adrian" I breathed sliding them down. "What colour's the thong?" "Pastel blue and lacy." "Oh God Michy I bet you look fantastic, is the thong soaked?" I could see the darkness of the stain of my juices on the gusset. "Yes very." "God you'll be soaked when I spank you on Thursday. I'll have a special pair of panties for you to wear. I'm going to buy them on Sunset Boulevard later today. There's a punishment shop where they sell everything." "Special? How will they be special?" "That's all part of what I mean about it being more than just the smacking. It's how you dress, how I dress, how we go about it and everything. It's almost a ritual, a ceremony. The spanking is just part of it. An important part but not all of it." "I see," I replied not really quite understanding. "So what about the panties?" "You'll see on Thursday. I'll have all the clothes you'll need to change into." "OK." "Oh Michy just thinking of how great it's going to be is making me rub harder and faster. How about you? Are you touching your pussy yet?" "Yes Adrian I am now." "Is it wonderful?" "Yes" "Make yourself cum Michy. I'm very near are you?" "Yes, yes," I sighed my finger rubbing faster and faster right alongside my clitoris, the place that I find the most sexually sensitive. "Make me cum, Ade, make me cum, please, please make me cum," I groaned into the phone as I gripped my hand between my thighs. "I'm cumming Michy, I'm cumming" he grunted out of the phone. "Cum with me darling, cum with me." I did. Easily, willingly and so wonderfully sordidly. Lying back in my big, black, leather chair, naked apart from the pale blue lacy thong that was pushed half way down my thighs I fucked myself. I fucked myself vigorously, eagerly and satisfyingly telling my telephone lover exactly what I was doing as I heard his words of filth thundering out of the loudspeaker on my mobile. We spoke a couple more times before the Wednesday evening when he was catching his flight. We didn't though get into a particularly sexy chat and certainly not one that led to mutual masturbation. With the time difference that was only practical around seven or eight am or eleven or twelve at night California time, which is three or four in the afternoon or seven or eight in the morning London time. Often they were inconvenient times for me so we just had to miss out and save it for when he got back. We did, though, chat briefly both on the phone and messenger about the forthcoming Thursday afternoon and evening with him explaining that he'd completed the shopping for my 'uniform' but wouldn't tell me what it was. It was agreed that he'd ring me from the airport and then when he got home. I'd then get a cab over that would only take ten to fifteen minutes and then the 'proceedings would begin,' he said with a deep chuckle. Over the next couple of days I thought quite a lot about what might happen. I was intrigued by some of the things he'd said. "It's like a ritual, a ceremony." "The trappings are as important as the main event." "Everything combines to provide a really amazing mutual orgasm." "The feelings you'll get from the combination of the smacking and my caresses will be like nothing you've ever experienced." I wasn't, though, that easily able to understand what it was that so interested me about it. Was it the submitting myself to someone, them controlling and directing me? Was that what appealed? Being directed and, in a way, looked after? No not looked after really for there was the chastising, the punishment, the correcting and the disciplining. Was it, I wondered, the exhibitionism? The flaunting of my bottom, one of my better features I've always thought, to a man? Was it that or was it that some pain appealed to me? I just couldn't get my head round it. All I knew for sure was that every time I thought about it, and I thought about it almost endlessly, I got excited. I could hardly wait for Thursday I'd never really had pain given to me as part of a sexual act. Well of course there had been the odd bite, or suck that was a little too hard and sometimes a lover might apply too much pressure to squeezing my breasts or pinching my nipples, but nothing severe and certainly nothing that had been planned by both of us. And in some ways it was the fact that we had planned it together and that had created the expectancy and anticipation about the unknown that was the most intriguing aspect as I'd waited the few days from that phone call. Also looking forward to being hurt, being smacked or spanked, I wasn't quite sure which was the more evocative word. The one that made my pulse race more as it came into my mind. Which was it spanked or smacked, that gave me the stronger jolt when I thought to myself? 'He's going to spank me.' 'He's going to smack my naked bottom.' And in those few days between formally agreeing to it and now getting ready for it I'd said such things to myself many times. Since sitting in front of my PC as good as naked, masturbating myself and admitting to Adrian that I enjoyed the smacking he'd done, I'd thought of little else. From the moment I'd said to him. "On my bottom, I want you to spank my bare bottom" it had become in my mind a totally accepted fact that he'd do just that. It didn't really now seem to be that outrageous a proposition more an inevitability, I suppose. "There's a couple of things you need to do before you arrive at my house" Adrian had said over his mobile from the car on the way from the airport. "Ok, what's that?" I'd asked. I could hardly hear his reply for he was whispering, presumably to avoid the driver hearing him as he said. "Put your hair into pigtails for me and wear little make up." Although I had rather longer hair at the time, I knew it would be difficult to plait it into pigtails, but I could probably get it into little bunches. "What? Er, um why?" "You need to look and feel as young as possible." I didn't really understand why but I went along with his requests. On the cab ride to his house, though, I did wear a hat so I could hide the pigtails feeling a little uncomfortable being in my late thirties with such a girly hairstyle. I hadn't worn my hair like this for such a long time and it was actually quite good fun plaiting it. I'd showered and had washed and dried my hair. I was sitting, dressed just in my panties, in front of my dressing table mirror carefully weaving my hair into the schoolgirl type plaits. When both were finished and I'd put tight rubber bands around the ends I glanced in the mirror. It would be rather illusory of me to think that the hair style had taken years off me, I just wish it had. But somehow the young girl look of the plaits with the clearly womanly look of my bare breasts gave me quite a sexual jolt. I began to see what Adrian meant about the whole thing! "Let yourself in" he said when I called him from the cab. "Go to that small back bedroom on the first floor and you'll find what you have to wear there. It's all lying on the bed or hanging up next to it. There's everything you need so don't wear anything you've got on now. Is that clear Michy?" "Yes Adrian" I replied quietly for the same reasons he'd whispered from his car earlier on his way from the airport. "Did you manage the pigtails and remember no make up?" "Yes, yes I did, just about." I mumbled very quietly feeling very embarrassed even though there was no way the cabbie could have heard anything. 'Just about?" He queried. I explained about the shortness making pigtails difficult. "Oh ok I see anyway when you're dressed, and ready and do take your time come to the back room in the basement where I'll be waiting for you. Now that the time was as good as here for the cab was pulling into Hoxton Square, I began to feel very nervous. Nervous about perhaps being hurt and having to take the pain that was clearly an essential aspect of corporal punishment. Nervous about the contrived, almost cold-hearted way we'd arranged this and whether that would reduce the pleasure. After all I'd always had my best sex when events happened spontaneously. Nervous about my reactions and whether I would get the kicks I expected and Adrian promised. Maybe most nervous, though, at the slightly deviant nature of this particular aspect of sex. I was intentionally moving away from mainstream sex and was welcoming Adrian in pushing out my boundaries. I was going further than I'd been before. That made me nervous for did it mean that if I didn't like what I found I might not be able to revert to normal sex? I thought that I'd probably be ok for I'd handled my forays into girl/girl sex quite well and despite now having quite a few experiences with a number of women I hadn't become a lesbian or a penis hater so I doubted I would become a BDSM junky or the like. Full of trepidation I used the key he had given me just before he left on his last trip an dmade my way upstairs to the room he had described. Hanging up beside the bed on a coat hanger was a blouse and a skirt. It was a white cotton blouse with a collar and buttons right up the front. A short, pleated skirt that was patterned a little like a kilt with blue and green the predominant colours. As I picked it up I could feel that the plaid wasn't as heavy as the real tartan, in fact it was quite lightweight. Holding it against me it came no further than half way down my thighs. There was a pair of white, lacy topped hold-ups and a pair of silver strappy, mid height heeled shoes. The only other piece of clothing was a pair of panties. There was no bra. The panties were full and high waisted. So from that perspective they were modern. I picked them up and held my hand inside them. Being made of a pink, looseweave net, I suppose it was, they were as good as completely see-through. I was getting into it. I was understanding more and more what Ade had said about CP being a ritual. Dressing quickly I felt shivers of expectancy going through me as I was transformed. Transformed from an approaching middle age, conventional, business woman to a young girl looking rebel who was about to be punished by having her bottom spanked. I hadn't seen the mirror until I was dressed for he'd hung the coat hanger holding the blouse and skirt over it. I'm sure that it was intentional that I wouldn't see it until then. And I was also sure it was equally as intentional that I should then look at myself in the nearly full-length mirror. It was all part of the ritual, an essential aspect of the ceremony, I realised with excitement. My heart pounded when I saw myself in the mirror. I knew that in some ways I would look ridiculous. I am, I was very aware, simply too old to carry off the look Adrian was seeking other than in the special circumstances he was creating. But in those circumstances my appearance excited me. The cotton blouse was not of a very high quality. The material was thin and looked and felt as though it was old, well-worn and had been washed too often. With all the buttons done up it did though fit me well. It was trim across my back and whilst it showed the outline of my boobs it didn't cling to them overly tightly. However, when I moved the jiggle of each orb under the material was very obvious indeed. As, of course, were the dark shadows of my nipples with the strong protuberances in the centre trying hard and largely succeeding I saw in the mirror to make mountains out of molehills. Standing up straight the hem of the skirt did, at least, cover my stocking tops. Just. But when I bent or leaned forward past about forty five degrees it didn't. No at that degree of tilt I really did flash them, A few more degrees and the patch of skin between them and my panties was also revealed. And when I bent so my waist was at ninety degrees as I imagined I'd be when Adrian spanked me the skirt rode up so that most of the pink, net panties could be seen. If his intention with the clothes and the mirror was to stimulate, excite and arouse me and make me even more amenable to the forthcoming spanking then he most definitely succeeded. My hands were shaking, my knees were probably knocking and I know my breasts were wobbling and jiggling all over the place as I walked down the stairs to the formidable sounding basement. I opened the door and was part relieved and part frightened to see that the room was very dimly lit. "Come in Michaela" I heard Adrian say. Trying hard to accustom my eyes to the low light I walked into the fairly large room. I'd only been in it once before when Adrian had given me the guided tour of his large rambling house that, due to the recent property inflation, was probably worth well in excess of a million pounds. I couldn't see him but when he spoke again I realised he was standing behind the door. "Go to the centre of the room Michaela and stand there" he said. I did as he asked noting that the room was windowless, which wasn't surprising considering it was a basement. It was about twenty feet square with a large, low, modern bed at one end off to my right and a table at the other end to my left. In the middle of the room where I'd been told to stand there was a single, straight backed dining chair. There was a door alongside the bed. Glancing around I could see that the bed had black, silk or satin sheets with the top one turned back as if inviting someone to get in. Looking the other way I saw that the table had some items on it that, at first, I couldn't make out. As my eyes became acclimatised to the dark I began to see what they were. There were several bottles that looked as if they contained oils and others that appeared to hold lotions. There was a pile of towels or flannels and a large ceramic bowl that looked as though it held water. Looking closer, I saw two vibrators, one black the other gold. The Cane And then I saw the cane. The cane that could only have one purpose. The cane that could only have one intent. The cane that was there to hurt and then pleasure me. The cane that I had never thought about before. The cane that there and then, I think, I began to fall in love with. It seemed so right. It seemed to be perfect. It was what I'd been searching for. What I needed, what I wanted, what I so utterly desired. And to think I'd never really even thought about it before. Not until I saw the two feet of bamboo with a hooked end hanging from the table. Not until that moment did I realise the dormant need that had been lying there asleep in me. Not until the cane that Adrian had placed so cleverly was staring at me did I realise that it was my ultimate. My total desire. My one wish and need. I knew then looking at that cane that my life had from that moment intrinsically changed. That not Adrian or the other men that wanted to, and indeed had, fucked me, were my lovers. No that cane I felt would have a bearing on the rest of my life. "Stand still for me Michaela. Just let me look at you" the still unseen Adrian said to me. Hands clasped in front of me I did as he asked. Not speaking, standing perfectly still, dressed in the, on one hand, somewhat ludicrous get up yet, on the other, a provocatively sexual, outfit I waited. He took his time saying nothing and as far as I could tell not moving. It was a little unnerving to stand there simply being stared at by the man that was going to spank and smack me. I wondered what was going through his mind, what he was thinking about as he looked at me?. Looked at me clad in the clothes that combined the innocence of a young girl with experience of a woman. The pigtails of youth with the unfettered breasts of maturity. The blouse and skirt of the playground with the stockings and panties of the bedroom. His inspection seemed to go on for ages and more and more now, I realised what he meant by his comments about the ritual. "Well done Michaela, you look perfect" I heard him say, feeling rather than seeing, him move silently across the room so he was next to me. I'd been a little concerned as to what his uniform would be. What the ceremonial garb was for the spanker as opposed to the spankee? I'd half thought he might blow it all for me by wearing something totally outrageous, like a mask, or cape or, heaven forbid, a leather thong. I'm pretty sure that had he worn any of those or anything too contrived, say a headmaster's gown and mortarboard, I'd have laughed and, despite the heightened state of arousal that the proceedings had so far caused for me, I'd be unable to continue. Although sexual acts can be fun I don't think they work when they become ridiculous. So the long, dark red, silk dressing gown that Adrian was wearing was perfect. It had plunging lapels, so that a wide and deep expanse of his fairly hairy chest could be seen, with a tie round his waist. There were no buttons so a slight tug on that and it would open and his, I assumed, total nudity would be shown to me. I smiled and murmured. "You don't look so bad yourself Adrian." He didn't reply but slowly walked round me looking at me from all angles. His appearance and his gaze on me rekindled my arousal and as I stood there I could feel my nipples hardening. That's something that often I don't realise has happened until perhaps a man's staring will raise my suspicions sufficiently for me to glance down and see the two organ stop like lumps poking out from my swimsuit or whatever it is I'm wearing. This time, though, I was acutely aware that the thin, nearly see through, cotton blouse was struggling unsuccessfully to hide the eruption going on in my chest. I glanced down and the bumps were both larger and more obvious than I'd imagined and looking up I saw that Adrian was also staring at them. "Michaela's having some naughty thoughts isn't she?" He asked. "Er yes, yes she is." I replied. "And young girls like Michaela shouldn't have such thoughts should they?" "No, no Adrian they shouldn't" I heard myself replying as I slipped into the role of being a young girl. I hadn't for one moment thought that we'd get into a role-play and that was just as well for that was also something that I would have thought was just a little bit too silly. But it seemed to come so naturally and far from being ridiculous, adopting such a role seemed natural and was, I have to admit, exciting. "No Michaela" he went on, his gaze roaming unrestrained all over my body sending even more tingles of desire through me. "Young girls shouldn't have naughty thoughts should they?" "No Adrian they shouldn't." "Because when they have naughty thoughts things happen to them don't they?" "Yes, yes they do," I replied seeing quite clearly the silk robe moving as his erection grew. "Things that are happening to you aren't they?" "Yes." "And what is happening to you Michaela? What is happening to your young girl's body?" I didn't reply for a moment not sure what he wanted me to say. "You can tell me Michaela, you can tell me anything" he went on standing so close I could smell the Dior aftershave I had bought him that weekend we went shopping together. Glancing down I could clearly see the outline of his hard cock under the thin material and it took a superhuman effort on my part to resist reaching out and grabbing it. I wanted to so badly, but thought it would probably mess up the ceremony! "My nipples are getting hard" I said in a whisper now totally into the role-play. "Are you wet as well Michaela?" he asked. "Yes Adrian, yes I think I am" I responded not really knowing whether I was or not. "And that's also very naughty isn't it?" "Yes, yes it is." "And when young girls are naughty they have to be punished. They have to be chastised and taught to be good, don't they Michaela?" "Yes Adrian they do." "And you've been very naughty with your thoughts and your breasts and your pussy haven't you?" "I have." "That means Michaela that you have to be punished. How should I punish you do you think?" "I don't know, I've never been punished like this before." "Then you should think deeper little girl and tell Adrian what you think he should do to help you and punish you at the same time." I looked into his eyes, then meaningfully down to his crotch and then back into his eyes which were very alive and gleaming. "I think you should spank me" I whispered to him. "Where Michaela, where should I spank you?" "On my bottom; you should spank me on my bottom." His voice thick with arousal he said. "Yes, yes Michaela I will spank your bottom. Go and stand behind that chair. I did as he said. "Hold the back of it with both hands." I did. "Move backwards a little." I shuffled back a foot or so. "Now Michaela you have to bend forward." I did. "Further Michaela, further." I leaned further forward just as I had in front of the mirror upstairs. To and then past forty five degrees. "Further Michaela further." I knew that from where he was standing behind me he'd now be able to see my stocking tops. As I obeyed his latest order and bent forward until my upper body was almost at ninety degrees to my lower body and legs, I knew that he'd be seeing the patch of skin above the stockings. "Rest your head on your hands on the back of the chair Michaela." As I did that I knew the short, kilt-like skirt would ride further up my legs. He'd now be able to see all of my straightened, slightly parted legs, the seamed, white lacy topped stockings, the skin above them and, probably the lower part of my bottom clad in the pink, net panties that probably now were soaked. Again he made me wait. Again he said nothing. Again he walked round me inspecting my body from all angles. And again my body and mind were consumed by sexual sensations, thoughts and expectancy. As he walked past my face I could see the outline of his erection, which really was like the proverbial flagpole under the silk dressing gown. As he moved so the edges of the robe would open and I'd see expanses of his bare legs. As he stood before me I saw that the waist of the robe had loosened a little under the tie and the lapels were wider apart showing more of his chest. The waiting, the anticipation, Adrian staring at my legs and bottom and me looking at him combined marvellously to arouse me to a level I'd don't think I'd been at before, without at least being touched. But still Adrian hadn't touched me. And that I guessed was also part of the ritual. He knew what I wanted and knew that making me wait would make me want it even more. And he was absolutely correct. Naturally, since we'd agreed to do this a few days ago, I'd had some doubts and concerns. Getting ready and travelling here I hadn't been totally sure about it. And when changing into the young girl's clothes and taking on that role in this dimly lit basement room there was, inevitably I think, some trepidation. After all it was a very big step. But everything he'd done so far, all the deeds and the words gave me more and more assurance that what I'd agreed to was right for me. I was starting to appreciate all the trappings. The slow build up. The stripping away, albeit only temporarily, of my own personality, even my age. The staring and the lack of fervid activity. The way the cane hung from the table. The gradual exposure of the epicentre of what this was all about, my bottom, and the way he so evidently displayed his appreciation to me. They were all details. Small parts of the whole thing. Small maybe but each in their way essential to the performance we were enacting. And then another action that was small in some ways but gargantuan in others took place. Adrian stood behind and just to one side of me. He stood very close, almost touching my hip. Almost but not quite. I couldn't see what he was doing but then I felt the lightest of pressure on the short skirt. The gentlest of touches that was almost imperceptible. But without doubt I knew that he was touching the skirt. And then I felt it being lifted. Felt it by the weight being lifted from my bottom and by the very slight touch of the cool air on the backs of my thighs. I'm not at all sure that I have the composing and describing skills to put into words what I felt. What I felt as I realised for sure he was lifting my skirt up and away from my bum. As he lifted it then pulled it over the curves of my bottom. As he rolled it up so it was bunched round my waist. As he exposed my bottom to his gaze. My bottom that was covered in just the tight, diaphanous material. The pink, see through net panties. The gossamer like knickers that I knew hid nothing of me at all. I could feel the thudding of my heart, the racing of my pulses and the panting of my breathing as I knew his gaze would be taking in every detail. The waistband of the panties that ran from hip to hip. The thin skirt bunched above that. The stretched material showing the deep crevice between my slightly opened cheeks. And of course the plumpness of my blood engorged lips that would be glistening with my female secretions. All of my most private and personal places were under his scrutiny. The merest touch, a slight more excitement, a gesture or a light caress would have been enough to have made me cum, so emotionally aroused was I playing my full part in the ceremony. But of course he knew exactly what he was doing. After all he'd written the script. So he didn't touch or caress me but once more made me wait as he stared. It really is the most excruciatingly pleasurable, but at the same time, enormously frustrating thing. To be wanting something to happen and to know that it's going to, but for it to be continually delayed. It was so atmosphere building, so mood creating and so integral to everything else that I realised it was the perfect way to prepare me. I jumped with surprise when he spoke. It seemed to have been ages since either of us had said anything. But then we'd both got so many other things on our minds that there wasn't room for talking as well. So the words would have been a surprise in any case. They'd have given me a jolt what ever they were. But when I heard him calmly and slowly though a little hoarsely say. "I'm going to pull your panties down Michaela," I nearly fainted with the surge of sexual excitement that gave me. "Oh my God," I gasped. "Yes Adrian, yes." "Yes Adrian what?" He asked his fingers sliding just inside the elastic of the waist band. "Take my panties down, please Adrian take them down," I heard myself pleading, even though I could hardly believe what I was saying. "Yes Michaela your panties have to come down so I can spank your bare bottom, don't they?" "Yes, oh yes," I groaned as I felt him slowly rolling them down. Rolling them down the flat part of the back of my waist, over the bulbousness of my hips, and onto and then over the roundness of the cheeks of my bottom. They were half way down my cheeks meaning that half the crease between them would now be bared meaning that the entrance to my anus would also be bare. I was shivering with expectancy, sexual desire and the anticipation of my first spanking. "You have a glorious arse Michaela," he said as he ran his fingertips over it. "Just think how beautiful it will be when I've spanked it and it's all warm and stinging and, of course, red. Can you imagine it Michaela?" "Yes Adrian I can." He stroked and softly caressed all over each cheek running his fingers between them, hovering by and then pressing fairly firmly right on my bum hole. That made me grunt and I squirmed a little fearing he was going to slip his finger inside me. I didn't want that, it would just be too much and would, without doubt, make me cum. He tugged them a little more so that the waist band was now beneath the bottom of each cheek a little way down my thighs. I could feel the gusset sticking to me and knew that the wetness would cause that. I also knew that now everything I had was exposed to his wonderfully lustful gaze. I visualised the view he had of me. My opened legs in the white, lacy-topped, seamed stockings. My breasts were hanging down, their weight pressing the meaty flesh against the thin, worn cotton. The plaid skirt bunched around my waist and my body bent at ninety degrees at the waist. My bum, my cheeks, my anal entry and my wet lips were all there for him to see. "It's time Michaela," he said slowly and quietly sending a chill through me. I was scared yet so excited as he went on. "Stand up, but make sure your panties stay exactly where they are." I did as he asked not understanding why he wanted the panties to be half way down my thighs, as opposed to off my legs completely. He walked round the chair and sat on it. Signalling to me to stand next to him he said very thickly. "Lie across my knees Michaela, I need you across my lap." I looked from his face to the bulge in his dressing gown that was now almost open and then to his lap. I had thought he'd have started spanking me when I was standing up bent over but then I saw that being "put across his knee" was all part of the process, the ritual and the ceremony. Almost kneeling and resting my hand on his silk covered leg to help me balance I lowered myself down across his lap. His knees pressed into my waist just beneath my breasts, although the side of the uppermost leg, his left, was pressing into the bottoms of them. I reached one of my arms out before me and downwards and managed to grip the leg of the chair just as once more he went through the slow motion movement of raising my skirt up to bare my bottom. We were so near now. I knew it and he did as well. I could feel the tension in both our bodies as he again stroked my buttocks sending shudders of pleasure and excitement through me. My bottom has always been fairly sensitive but I'd never realised just how much until now. There was no warning. He gave no hint. There was no sign that we had begun. There was no indication that my "punishment" was underway. He didn't tell me that he was going to smack me. He did nothing to warn me that he was starting to spank me. I didn't hear anything and of course I couldn't see or feel anything. Again it was the sound that made the most immediate impact on me. Thwack, I heard, before I felt anything. Smack rang in my ear before any feelings. He hit me twice in quick succession once on each cheek. I was still hearing the sounds of the two smacks when he stopped and gently ran his fingertips over where the blows had landed. As the stinging started, so he rubbed each cheek a little harder. As he did that, so the relatively modest pain coincided with the rather nice sensations his hands were producing on my bottom. I was just getting used to his caresses when again, with no warning, I heard the thwack and felt the pain. It was a little more acute this time. There was also more smacks, five, six, seven, I counted. And I felt that they were harder, firmer and quicker. They made me cry out with pain. I squirmed on his lap. I moaned and grunted as the smacks landed all over my cheeks and the tops of my thighs. It seemed as though he was carefully deciding where to hit me, for by now every part of my buttocks had been smacked. I was hurting, everywhere was burning and stinging, I was in pain and beginning to worry that corporal punishment was not for me. I thought that I might start to cry. There was no pleasure, I was starting to think, just discomfort. But then, just as a few sobs escaped from my lips, he stopped. Again I felt his hands so gently and softly running over the places where he'd just been spanking me. The combination of the sensations I'd been gaining from being hurt with those he was now giving were unique in my experience. Heat, softness, stinging, tenderness, pain, excitement, anticipation, concern, thanks, trust and pleasure were all rushing through me. I'd never experienced so many differing emotions and sensations at the same time. I was now squirming and moving my body for other reasons. For reasons that were all to do with arousal, and strong sexual arousal at that. But the sexual arousal was not merely coming from his fingers that were softly roaming all over my bottom. No, I wasn't becoming hugely turned on just by his caresses. It was also, actually mostly I think, the thrills I'd got from the spanking. The emotions I felt from being under his control. The sensations I gained from being held captive-like over his lap together with the fervid anticipation of more to come. Yes, all that combined with his sublimely, tender touch, were building up and up and up. The rather orderly position we'd started in had changed. His legs had opened and the gown had fallen away from them. My squirming and movements had flipped some of the buttons undone on the blouse. His caresses were no longer being restricted to my thighs and bottom but were now covering my back and neck and head as well. He'd pushed the blouse up at the back so that was bunched around my shoulders. My left side, just above my waist, was pressed firmly against his erection or, I suddenly thought, was his erection pressed firmly against my side? And one of my breasts had slipped out from the blouse. More blows, more thwacks, more smacks and spanks. More stinging and warmth, more pain and tingling. More caresses, more excitement, more anticipation and yet even more pleasure. His gown had fallen open. My breasts were dangling down alongside his leg the naked skin of both rubbing together. His penis was bare. It was rock hard, hot and pressed against me just beneath my boobs. It felt glorious and I squirmed eagerly against it. Alternating the cheeks and the positions on my bottom that he smacked, Adrian continued my induction into corporal punishment in the most wonderful way for some time. Ten minutes, twenty or half an hour? I had no idea. Time along with everything else other than the magnificence of the feelings and the sensations ceased to exist.