by Sam Eden
When she appeared from her bedroom the reason for the delay was apparent; she’d changed her clothes. She was now wearing black pants which fitted like a second skin, showing every contour of her legs, hips and bottom. As yet she had on no top, but she wore a black bra.
She came up to him coolly, saying, ‘I just wanted to check these are okay for office wear. They’re not jeans.’
She was taunting him for grumbling about her jeans a few weeks before.
God, she is impudent, he thought. She really has it coming tonight.
She noticed a Rachmaninov CD which absentmindedly he still held in his hand, and at once her pert manner changed.
‘That was one of Edward’s favourites,’ she said sadly.
‘It’s beautiful music. Do you like it, too?’ he asked.
‘Yes, but I can’t listen to it very often,’ she mumbled. She turned away quickly and disappeared again. He knew she was hiding real tears, and he regretted his unkind thoughts a few moments before. That was the way it seemed to be with Nicola: one minute he wanted to spank her and the next to comfort her.
While she finished dressing James looked at the few pictures in the room, and a wedding photograph of Nicola’s late parents caught his eye. The newlyweds stood on the lawn before a large Georgian house, presumably where their reception took place. The big 80s hairstyles looked absurd now, but their happiness still shone through. Next to it was a photo of a young Nicola on holiday with Edward in front of a Roman ruin. These three dead people were all the family Nicola had ever possessed. Deep in his melancholy thoughts he suddenly noticed her at his elbow. He guessed she might have been there for a few seconds.
‘Ready,’ she said, smiling brightly, but her eyes still glistened.
Back at the house in Henley, James found it impossible to concentrate. Nicola seemed to have an endless amount of filing to do around his study, much of which involved stretching and bending in her tight trousers. When questions arose she would stand close beside him, leaning over the desk while he read the document. He could smell the cleanness of her hair and knew that if he turned his head his lips would be inches from hers. The desire to move back his chair and fling her across his lap was almost too much to bear. His hand itched to make contact with the well-stretched black material and the supple flesh beneath it.
At midday he went through the French windows onto the lawn for some respite from his erection, which had been more or less present for over an hour. It was a crisp, clear day and he scrunched the frozen grass as he walked down to the riverside. Whatever the weather, rowers were always in action. He watched a couple of fours glide by, blades wielded by strong young men moving in perfect unison.
He was approaching forty but he felt even older today. Although fit for his age he wondered how he would shape up in the gym against Nicola’s immaculate physique. At least in his personal gym there would be no male competition. On the way back from her flat she had implored him to work out with her. Her reasons had sounded rehearsed: firstly, that no one should work out alone, in case of accidents, and secondly that he might need to show her his equipment - said with a perfectly straight face. After his sombre thoughts at her flat he hadn’t the heart to refuse, even though after last night’s scene at the hotel he strongly suspected an ulterior motive. Well, he thought, he must simply discipline her all the more, to keep her brazen behaviour in check.
In truth James knew he was deeply attracted to Nicola. Nicola knew it, too. His yearning for her was like nothing he had felt for years. It made him angry with her, wanting to punish her all the more for it, yet he suspected it was that she craved. It seemed like a spiralling cycle of desire. He gave the orders, but he sometimes believed she had written the script. Their next scene was patently obvious, but what concerned him more was what the final curtain would bring, since one member of the cast had yet to appear on stage.
When he returned to the study Nicola told him she had decided to work through lunch, to make sure everything was finished before they went to the gym. James normally missed lunch anyway so he was happy with the arrangement.
Soon after two o’clock he could not wait any longer. He told Nicola to leave anything she had left until tomorrow. After the morning’s early start she deserved to finish work early. He suspected she could guess the real reason for his impatience.
The gym was across the tiled entrance hall. It had its own adjoining changing room and shower. Beyond that was an indoor pool. Images of Nicola in a bikini, her glistening wet body bending over for him, he set aside for another day.
A small range of stainless steel weight machines were set out around the gym’s mirrored walls. For aerobic workouts a jogger, an exercise bike and a rower stood by the windows, which looked out over the frosty winter parkland at the back of the house.
James changed first while Nicola looked around the machines. He was warming up on the exercise bike when she joined him in her kit. She did some stretching exercises on the mat nearby. She wore pink and white trainers, a pink cropped top and tight white lycra shorts. It seemed that most of the clothes in her wardrobe were designed to display her gorgeous bottom to advantage.
He finished on the bike and moved across to the lat pull down machine. While he exercised he watched her in a mirror. He didn’t bother to disguise it; he knew she expected him to watch her.
Nicola chose the jogger and lightly pounded the treadmill, looking out at the garden and the low winter sun. From time to time he glanced at her athletic movements, and of course, her flexing buttocks. The gym had been cool at first, after the warm study, but after thirty minutes of steady work they’d both warmed up considerably.
She stopped the jogger and came to a standstill, leaning forward with hands on knees.
‘Phew, feel better for that,’ she panted. ‘I need to do legs and abs today.’ She looked around. ‘Haven’t you got a leg curl?’
He pointed to the machine in the corner.
‘Oh, that’s not like the one at my gym. On ours you sit on it and push your calves down to exercise the back of your thighs.’
He knew the type she meant. ‘This is just as good,’ he said. ‘I’ll show you.’
He demonstrated, lying face down over the bench, hooking his feet under the ankle pads and raising his calves to stretch his strong hamstrings. James still had a powerful build. Although not now as fit as in his youth he was still quite athletic in appearance. It was her turn to see something of the tautness of his gluts beneath his shorts and his well-defined leg muscles.
‘You try.’ He got off the machine, set the weight peg at a low level and shortened the length of the bar to the ankle pads. She lay facedown on the bench, gripping the handles at the front and putting her feet under the pads. He watched her as she slowly lifted her calves. The slightly inverted ‘V’ shape of the bench naturally raised her bottom, but she was lifting it even higher, off the bench, which was incorrect.
‘Keep your hips down or you could hurt your back,’ he told her. She tried again with the same result, so he put his hand on her bottom and pressed. Nicola continued, doing a set of twenty repetitions with James holding her down.
She stopped and he removed his hand, but she didn’t get up. The material of her shorts was stretched as tightly as possible and semi see-through. By now it was a little damp with perspiration from her exertions. Through it he could make out her white G-string and some faint marks on her skin from her caning. There were a few beads of sweat in the hollow of her firm back. He looked at her hair, wet at the tips but glossy in spite of her workout.
She let go of the machine’s handles and folded her arms on the bench. Resting the side of her head on them, she looked up at him invitingly with her hazel eyes. He knelt by the machine and rested his hand on her bottom again. She moved her buttocks gently under his touch and smiled at him.
‘I take it you’ve decided that yo
u want your beating in here today,’ he said dryly.
‘I’ll have it wherever you’d like to give it me, sir, but now you’ve got me in a good position...’ she replied, with her unique combination of meekness and cheek.
He stroked her leg with his fingertips, in no hurry to begin. He felt like Keats’ knight-at-arms in thrall to the faery’s child. All his intentions of resisting her were slipping away.
Outside the sun was setting and the room was becoming dark and chilly. He got to his feet and switched on the lights. He pressed a button which closed the window blinds and another to turn the thermostat up. He looked at her from the wall.
‘I’ll fetch them,’ he said. ‘You look comfy; make sure you don’t go to sleep.’
‘I’m sure you’ll wake me up soon enough if I do,’ she said, smiling.
When James returned Nicola was lying in the same position waiting for him. He put down the cane and lotion and stood over her holding the strap. She roused herself, gripped the handles and looked at the floor in front of the machine.
‘Are you ready, Nicola?’
‘Yes, sir.’
He took up a suitable position to begin. Since she was lying more or less horizontally below him, with just a bend in the bench raising her bottom slightly, he decided to deliver the strokes vertically downwards. He raised the strap in his right hand until it fell over his right shoulder. He paused then brought it down with a hard crack on the target. She shuddered and counted the stroke.
‘One, sir.’
‘Just eleven more to go today, Nicola.’
‘Thank you for reminding me, sir,’ was her impertinent response.
He stood a little further back to allow himself a wider swing, and then planted a juicy second across the full width of her buttocks. It gave a loud and satisfying thwack.
‘Ow! Two, sir,’ she screeched.
As he delivered the third stroke he noticed her buttocks tense just before it landed and caught her glancing up to see in the mirror when the stroke would come. James had anticipated this would happen in the mirrored room, and had come prepared. He took a black leather eye mask from the pocket of his shorts and stooped to pull it over her eyes. She said nothing, but lay passively as he gently worked the elastic under her hair and over her ears.
James delivered a sharp fourth stroke to untensed buttocks, put down the strap and then said, ‘Roll your shorts down.’
She moved her hands back to her waistband and eased them over her reddening behind, lifting it slightly from the bench. He put his hand under her pelvis to stop her lying down again. Supporting herself by her knees on the bench she moved her hands back to the handles, leaving her bottom raised in the air. It pleased him that she always understood so quickly what he wanted her to do.
James straightened the G-string, which had been dislodged as the shorts lowered. He pulled the rolled shorts a little further down to just above her knees, and found himself squeezing and slapping her bottom and then gently caressing it. Then he pushed his right hand between her thighs and under her string. He let his fingers brush over the silky hair there, tracing the small neat triangle. As he rubbed the pads of his fingers gently over it Nicola sighed quietly in appreciation. He slipped his middle finger easily between her moist lips. He caressed her there for a few moments before withdrawing his hand.
‘We must finish your punishment first,’ he said.
‘I know,’ she replied quietly.
He pushed her down on the bench again and took up the strap. From this angle the base of her buttocks and the tops of her thighs were an easier target than her normal bending position. It was an area which had received too little attention on Monday, so with the final two strokes of the strap he intended to put right the omission. Her gentle sighs were replaced by yelps of pain as the two lashes hit home hard in and around the crease between cheeks and thighs. They were more brutal strokes than she’d had so far with the strap, and after each she raised her calves, almost completing a leg curl. Each time she held the weight in position for some seconds with thighs and buttocks tense, which seemed to help her bear the pain. Finally she would relax her legs and count the stroke.
‘Now just the six strokes of the cane left,’ he said.
She groaned. There was no clever rejoinder this time.
He helped her to stand and she gingerly pulled up her shorts and then stood, blindfolded, waiting for him to guide her. The gym was now warm and he took off his sweatshirt.
‘Do you use the hyper extension?’ he asked.
‘Yes, sir. The machine at our gym is just like yours here.’
‘Good. That’s where I’ll cane you today. Take off your top.’
She obeyed, removing it carefully to avoid dislodging the eye mask. He led her by the hand across the gym to the piece of equipment in question, which stood facing the middle of the opposite wall.
From a heavy base a three inch square white metal arm came up at forty-five degrees to the floor. At the top of the arm was a large black pad to support the pelvis and the tops of the thighs, which he adjusted to her height. At the base were two roller pads to hold the ankles. He stood her feet by them either side of the bar. Then standing behind her he held her tightly for a moment. He gripped her breasts beneath his left forearm and pulled her back into him.
‘Ooh, I like the hairy chest,’ she whispered, rubbing her shoulder blades against him.
He placed his right hand over her stomach and forced her bottom against his shorts. He could feel her sway her buttocks to rub against his erect penis. Then he guided her down to rest on the pad. She was now leaning along the forty-five degree bar supported by the pads over her ankles and under her thighs.
‘Arms folded across your chest. Now show me a few abs reps.’
In a controlled movement Nicola lowered her upper body towards the floor and raised it. Below the waist the bar held her body still; above she was working her lower back and abdominal muscles. On the downward movement her hair hung loose inches above the floor. After ten repetitions he told her to stop and remain upright.
He took up the cane and swished it in the air a few times. Nicola remained quite still, her arms crossed against her naked breasts. James played the cane over her shorts, tracing the full, round buttocks, deliberately extending the time she was being made to maintain her posture. Although standing slightly behind her he could see her front reflected in the mirrored wall. The masked eyes, the frown of concentration on her pretty face as she tried to maintain her position. He looked at the clear outline of her abdominal muscles gently moving with her breathing.
Acting on a vicious impulse he changed the cane to his left hand and brought his right hand down on her left buttock. Her body shook with the force of his blow.
‘One, sir. Um... maybe not,’ she said.
‘You know that was a spank and not the cane, Nicola. You will now receive one extra cane stroke.’
‘Yes, sir.’
He raised the cane again and brought it down very hard with a loud swish across the backs of her thighs. She cried out with pain and flung her hands down to her legs. He waited for twenty seconds while she rubbed them, and then said, ‘One extra stroke for moving your hands out of position, one for not counting. You will have eight more strokes.’
‘Oh no, I can’t take that many!’ she wailed.
‘Would you like to end now?’ he asked. ‘My original offer for you to leave is still open. And I want to remind you now that the severity of the session will increase on Friday.’
Nicola sighed heavily. She folded her arms back in place and stiffened her position along the bar.
‘I’m ready now, sir. Please continue with the caning.’
‘Count from the beginning again. These will come quickly.’
He straightened the lycra over her bottom so it was completely smooth.
Then he took up the cane and, without any pause, delivered three strokes immediately one after the other across her buttocks.
‘One, sir! Two, sir! Three, sir!’ she howled.
‘Give me ten repetitions,’ he demanded. ‘You wanted an abdominal workout today.’
She dipped and raised her upper body ten times. ‘My gluts are getting a good working over as well,’ she murmured.
As she exercised he could see lines from the cane forming under her shorts. Perspiration from her back and the cleft of her bottom made the thin material even more transparent.
He rested the cane on her buttocks as her exercises stretched and relaxed them. When she had completed her set he told her to remain in the dipped position, and as she bent forward from the waist the support pad of the machine splayed her buttocks perfectly. ‘Support yourself with your hands on the floor and keep still.’ With her arms straight she was just able to rest her fingertips on the floor.
Four and five were severe strokes delivered to the broadened target. Then he rolled down her shorts, leaving them around her knees, and tore off the flimsy G-string.
For the next two strokes he started the cane from high behind his head. Each one cracked down, cutting into her naked bottom, raising a large weal and making her scream. After each stroke Nicola had to pause sobbing for a full minute before she was able to speak.
As she counted, ‘Seven, sir,’ he could hear the tears in her voice. He told her to adopt an upright position again, this time with hands on head. She complied, sobbing. Her back and stomach were wet with sweat. Her once smooth tanned bottom was dark red and raised with weals. Small, dark bruises were appearing on some of the cane marks.
‘One stroke remaining.’
He set the cane in place across her buttocks again, giving firm taps with it on existing bruises. Then once again he was driven by an impulse to extend her suffering. He put down the cane, watching her wondering beneath her mask when the next stroke would come. He picked up the bottle of lotion and squeezed some directly onto her beaten cheeks. She gasped at its coolness, and then yelped as he began massaging it roughly into her bottom. He slapped it on her buttocks, gripping and squeezing them as he worked the lotion over their full round surface and the tops of her legs.
