“Ahhhhh!”
She tasted him. He was ready – she was too; she had never felt such urgency! Her mouth released him. “Now, for God’s sake; give it to me now – fuck me!” She spread the blanket on the ground and got down on it on her hands and knees. He kicked off his remaining clothes, but he seemed a bit nonplussed at her position. He touched her shoulder as if to roll her onto her back. It suddenly dawned on her how inexperienced he probably was – he’d never done it like this before. “Come up behind me, sir ... Let me have it from behind, like.”
“Oh, right!”
Here was her delightful heart-shaped bottom again – glowing pink from the spanking. He smacked it again once or twice more, then spread her wide with his hands, separating her lips to be touched and opened wider by the freshly licked head of his cock.
She sighed deeply as he slid up inside her. He felt the enveloping warmth inside.
His hand ran around the fullness of her behind and settled around her neat waist. She wiggled and rotated her hips below his hands as if skewering herself deeper upon him.
He sensed that she was revelling in it just as much as he was. As the sun warmed his naked back and buttocks he began his long, deep thrusts into her. Sometimes they were slow and gentle, sometimes faster and harder, making her cry out with each firm impact against her bottom. She moaned as she moved. Her moans began softly, then louder as she moved against him, her buttocks quivering with each impact.
For long minutes they fucked. His hands wandered over her back and reached under to cup and squeeze each swinging breast. Then he felt her increasing pace, and the spasm of her inner muscles that seemed to be milking his cock. They both came together in a howling climax as he hammered into her, shooting his seed deep inside her, releasing in long spurts of satisfaction, her encircling muscles squeezing him hard ...
He lay back too long in the afterglow, still inside her. He may have dozed off. Then he became aware of the sound of the punt being pushed away from the stage. He jumped up. “Hey, don’t go!”
“But I have to, sir,” she shouted across the water, still half naked; “I have an appointment.” She poled the punt as if she had done it before.
He looked around for his clothing. Gone. Everything. “Hey! What about my clothes?”
“Just a minute ...” She reached the bank wearing just her knickers, but rapidly dressed from the contents of the plastic bag. Like a fool he waited until she finally put her shoes on. “Your clothes are in the boat,” she yelled, running off.
“What’s your name?” he called after her, but she may have been out of earshot as she disappeared behind the willows.
Ah well – he could see from here that the towel was also in the boat. He needed a dip. He would swim over, dry and dress at his leisure, and the current was in his favour ... But the punt was already drifting downstream. Without her weight it had re-floated. No problem, the current would move them both at the same rate – as long as he reached the punt before that faster-moving shallow stretch. He carefully walked barefoot to the landing stage and plunged in.
On surfacing, the punt looked a long way off, but he set off strongly towards it. Still twenty yards away it began to accelerate in the shelving waters. A moment later his knee hit a submerged rock and his foot scraped the bottom. It was getting too shallow to swim. He stood and tried to wade though the rapids but the sharp rocks were hurting his feet ...
“Ouch!” He’d stepped on something really sharp. He hobbled to the bank, looked at the blood welling from the sole of his right foot, then at his punt, receding into the distance. “Damn!”
Back at the hide he wrapped his feet in strips of old sacking, and then covered his modesty with more of the same. Feeling like a pale fakir he somehow made his way across country, diving into hedgerows whenever a car came past on the estate roads. He got through the big gates, along the drive and up the house steps unseen.
He rang the bell. It seemed to take an age before anyone came.
“I’m very sorry, this is … My goodness – it’s you sir!”
“Of course it’s me Forbes! Now can you smuggle me upstairs before anyone sees?’
Forbes glanced behind him briefly. ‘The coast is clear. Follow me, sir!” Forbes seemed to be enjoying this.
“Has this anything to do with your interest in Buddhism, sir, may I ask?” Forbes ventured, as they ascended the stairs.
“No, it bloody well hasn’t!”
“I beg your pardon, sir.”
It felt very odd sneaking about his own house, but they made it to his dressing room without incident. He saw that Forbes had already laid out his clothes for dinner. “Do we have guests?”
“Your fiancée and a friend of hers are here, sir. I believe they are both staying for dinner.”
“Oh, God, Forbes, I’d quite forgotten! Have you made all the arrangements?”
“All is in hand, sir. Your guests are waiting in the library.”
Forbes performed his usual miracles, plus some minor work with the First Aid box on his foot. He did not enquire again as to the reason for his master’s loss of attire.
Amanda came out of the library and met him coming down the curving stairway. She kissed him on the cheek. “You look splendid, darling! Really caught the sun today. Had a good shoot on the water?”
“Yes thanks, darling. Ah, not much of a bag. Had a go at a beautiful big bird by the water, gave her both barrels, but she got away from me somehow ... Lovely weather though.”
“A friend of mine has just arrived from town. I’d like you to meet her.”
They went into the library. As the woman turned from the bookshelves to face him, he began to realise that this was not his day.
“Lady Caroline Browne, may I present my fiancé, Lord Underhill. Darling, my old friend and confidante, Caroline … Are you OK, darling?”
“Er, fine thanks, darling. Maybe just a touch of sunstroke … Enchanté, Lady Caroline!” He took the offered hand and kissed it. She smiled and dipped a small curtsy, revealing a lot of cleavage.
“I am so very pleased to meet you in the flesh at last!” Her dark blue eyes sparkled. “Amanda has told me so much about you.”
“Caroline is currently acting the lead role in a West End play.”
The word ‘confidante’ had just sunk in. He felt the walls of the room closing in on him. “Ah – that wouldn’t be the one about gypsies, would it?”
Shopaholic
by Laurel Aspen
Nula liked her blokes old-fashioned, her men to be men. Show her a “new man” and she’d show him the door. There was no need for chaps to be apologetic about their masculinity in Nula’s presence, quite the reverse. In her considered opinion a girl sometimes needed to be taken firmly in hand and Neil, her husband was the man who certainly did it for her.
Tentatively, all too acutely aware of three livid stripes decorating the lower curves of her pert posterior, she walked around the department store. High heels, short steps; short skirt, no bending.
Nula prayed she didn’t meet anyone she knew. Not that Neil would mind, no doubt he found the whole scenario amusing. After all, shopping had got her into the fix in the first place, and all because Neil had come home unexpectedly early.
Half an hour to go yet before this damsel in distress reached the privacy of home. Nula felt a surge of sexual excitement coursing through her; moistened at the prospect of the second half of her punishment still to come.
“Nula!”
“Hi honey, you’re home early,” Nula tried not to sound so obviously startled.
“Looking good,” said her husband Neil appreciatively. “Hey, what’s that behind the chair?”
Nula looked guilty. “I, er, did a little shopping.”
“A little shopping – Jeez Nula! More new clothes, we talked about this.”
“I know but …”
“But nothing, we can’t afford to go running up credit card bills.”
“Bloody hell, Neil.” Nula pouted
winsomely. “It’s only a couple of things, they look really nice on, I’m sure you’ll like them.”
Neil ignored her pleading tone. “You agreed the rules; we discuss purchases together. Break the agreement and expect to be taken to task.”
Oh dear, Neil had decidedly old-fashioned ideas about discipline.
“I’ll pay back the joint account,” she tried, hopefully.
“You’ll pay now,” growled Neil, bringing his hand sharply down on her tightly-jeaned backside.
“You’re going to spank me?” enquired Nula, hopefully.
“You wish,” said Neil with a wicked glint in his eye. “No, I think this behaviour warrants something more adventurous, my naughty little shopaholic. Listen carefully, here’s what I want you to do …”
Dressed as instructed Nula had stood in front of the undisputed master of the house. Bare legs, high-heeled strappy sandals and the very short skirt she’d bought that morning.
“Very attractive, Nula. You were right, the outfit does look good,” agreed Neil, “although I can’t believe you intended that skirt for anywhere but indoors.”
“No, definitely not,” Nula was quick to reassure him, “it was just something I’d thought you’d like.”
“And I do,” abruptly his tone changed, “but since you can’t keep to simple agreements I intend to punish you. Bend forward and grasp your ankles.”
Mutely, Nula obeyed, acutely aware that, bent over in this manner, the skirt revealed the lower cheeks of her admirably firm bottom, her modesty protected by only a slender thong.
“Good, now brace yourself, girl.” Gosh, Neil had never sounded so commanding; she loved it when he took control. “Three strokes of the cane to begin with,” he said firmly.
“The cane? But you’ve never, I didn’t even know we had one …” Nula’s protest was interrupted by a swishing sound and a sharp impact on the lower cheeks of her buttocks. “OW!” A fiery band blazed across the lower part of her haunches, Nula frantically jiggled her hips in response to the sting.
“Back in position,” Neil ordered, “straighten your legs.”
The fire of the first stroke was still spreading across her nates when the second fell, exactly parallel, an inch lower.
“OOOF!” Nula cried out. “Blimey! Right on the sit spot.”
“And the last one, for now,” said Neil calmly.
“Ow, Neil!” Both hands flew to her scalded cheeks; toes tapping an involuntary dance; Nula straightened up, flushed and excited.
“Smarts, doesn’t it?” he smiled. “Right, let’s see how much you really like shopping. We’ll drive into town – dressed exactly as you are – and you’ll walk around each of the three floors of the department store where you bought that skirt. Bend even slightly and those stripes will be clearly visible and don’t even think of dodging off to the Ladies, because I’ll be watching. Once your little promenade is over, it’s back here for another three strokes making six of the best in all.”
Blushing furiously at the recall of her incipient exposure to lascivious gaze Nula made it to the department store exit with a sigh of relief. Sitting in the car on the way home was less uncomfortable than the ride into town, perhaps because the risky escapade had been such a turn on. The public part of her penance was over, but she still had three strokes of the cane to endure.
Any thoughts that Neil might show clemency quickly disappeared once they were over the threshold. For the conclusion of her maiden caning, Nula was draped over the back of the sofa. Her skimpy lingerie offered no protection to the rattan-induced burning bands of fire Neil skilfully applied, but hurt though they undoubtedly did, Nula was stimulated to a state of sopping arousal. Neil’s gorgeous young wife was obviously hot to trot, so much so the narrow fabric of her thong almost disappeared between her loosening labia.
“Please,” Nula said with a rueful smile, “I’ve taken my medicine like a good girl and my poor, hot bottom hurts awfully – won’t you fuck me better?” Tearing off the redundant thong and freeing a towering erection, Neil dutifully did.
It’d be fair to say, reflected Nula afterwards, that her reaction to this first proper caning had been a revelation to them both. The enthusiasm with which she’d forced her sore haunches back towards his muscular abdomen, all the while crying out for him to take her hard and deep had been a passionate, unpredicted response. Indeed Nula secretly rather hoped history might repeat itself and soon. Meanwhile, Neil was determined to find an excuse for further punishments and equally orgasmic conclusions.
Several weeks passed before Neil saw his opportunity. Nula had started a new job and characteristically celebrated her first week’s pay with a small impulse purchase. Unluckily for her Neil just happened to have stopped off at the same mall and by even crueller fate he’d seen her stowing a shoebox in the boot of her car.
There was absolutely no point in arguing when confronted back at home, not least because she was secretly rather pleased to have been caught. Nula’s shoe fetish was clearly just another manifestation of her shopaholic misdemeanours.
“Yes, Neil,” Nula meekly replied when told to be in the lounge in 10 minutes to face the consequences of her profligacy. It’ll be my bottom on the receiving end again, she thought, with a sharp pang of adrenalin-fuelled excitement, better make sure I look as good as possible.
Hence the low cut black dress – and beneath it her finest lingerie – when she reappeared.
Neil was impressed but tried not to show it. Two dining chairs were stood incongruously together, back to back in the centre of the room. “Kneel there,” he instructed quietly, “knees on one side, hands the other, let the backs support your middle.”
Quickly Nula scrambled to obey. “Could we,” she tentatively suggested, “draw the curtains in case the neighbours see?”
“Certainly not,” her stern spouse was emphatic. “I’ve nothing to be embarrassed about.”
The naughty possibility of her chastisement being observed sent Nula’s thrill levels spiralling, but in keeping with the ritual she muttered a token objection.
“Right,” said Neil briskly, “we’ll have this dress up and these panties down.” The sheer stockings and suspenders he discovered in doing so caused an immediate stiffening of his resolve and Neil soon had the expensive wisp of lingerie down around her knees. Nula shivered as a cool breeze wafted across her exposed behind; it’d soon enough be hot to the touch.
Neil paused; it took all of his considerable self-control to resist taking his sensually-clad wife there and then. Recovering his authority he solemnly pronounced sentence: “A dozen, on your disobedient bare bottom.”
“Oh no, please don’t, let me off just this once and I’ll do anything you want.” Nula made a coquettish appeal for clemency. Right now she really would agree to any suggestion her dominant man cared to make. Take his long thick cock in her mouth? A pleasure. Allow him to tit fuck her and come on her boobs? Ditto. Take it up the bum; they’d only tried it a couple times. That hurt too at first, but afterwards …
Her reverie was shattered by the first stroke. Neil had slipped his worn leather belt from its loops and doubled it. Holding the tip in his left hand the buckle end in his right he bought the hide down diagonally across her porcelain moons. Stepping from side to side, changing effortlessly from forehand to backhand he methodically strapped Nula’s perfectly sculpted behind. As the strokes crossed again and again so her pale, silky skin reddened. Nula drummed her fists, kicked her feet and shouted, all to no avail. After the promised dozen Neil stopped and she slumped breathless, stripes already turning red where they overlapped.
“Too hard,” “Nula pouted, eyes wet and her lips trembling.
“Too disobedient, Neil growled, “we’re not made of money.”
Feeling a tad guilty at her obvious distress Neil picked up a jar of cold cream and carefully rubbed the soothing salve into her superheated derriere. Simultaneously she slipped two juice-slicked fingers into her vulva, pistoning the digits in and out of
her craving quim, masturbating furiously to ease the pain and assuage her frustration. Quickly and noisily Nula came, whereupon Neil scooped her up in his arms and carried her off upstairs for a rather more leisurely second round.
In truth Neil was somewhat perplexed by Nula’s ambivalent embrace of CP. What had started as spanking foreplay had become considerably more complex. He was out of his depth and urgently required some advice from a more experienced hand. How best to punish Nula in future without overdoing the severity he wondered? She clearly expected him to be in charge – fine by him – but just how far could he go?
There was only one person who Neil respected and trusted enough to solicit an opinion on such a confidential matter, his boss, Rod. Time for a serious discussion, thought Neil, reaching for his mobile phone …
That following weekend they arrived for drinks with Neil’s boss, Rod. She’d heard much about the man Neil obviously held in high regard and Nula was much looking forward to meeting him.
The couple was welcomed into a substantial detached by a commanding, dapper figure in his 50s. In manner and appearance Rod was reminiscent of a Hollywood leading man from the black & white era. His wife Judy, nearer to Nula’s age than her husband’s, was equally charming although not quite the slender, blonde trophy wife she’d expected. Curvaceous of figure Judy was blessed with an attractive face with cupid lips and big eyes. As she served them drinks Nula couldn’t help but observe that Judy was walking rather stiffly.
“Good to see you,” said Rod warmly, “and really Neil when you described Nula to me you didn’t do her justice, she’s so very beautiful.” From anyone else such a remark might have seemed patronising, yet so strong was Rod’s charisma he carried it off and Nula found herself smiling coyly in response.
“Now then,” announced Rod, after some inconsequential chatting, “time to get to the main point of this gathering. Neil has come to me with a couple of questions and I’m more than pleased to proffer some advice.”
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