Table of Contents
Cover Page
Copyright Page
The Nexus Letters
1. The Ties that Bind
2. Spanking Good Times
3. The Top and Bottom of It
4. Showing Off
5. All Wrapped Up
6. Bring a Friend
7. Me, Myself and I
8. Waxing Lyrical
9. The Bare Essentials
10. Wet and Wild
11. The Eyes have It
‘You have her well trained, Nick,’ George said to me, ‘but how does she respond to punishment? I’d imagine her skin colours beautifully.’
‘Why don’t you find out?’ I replied, knowing how humiliating it must be for Sara to be discussed as though she was not in the room.
‘I’d love to,’ George said, unbuckling his belt and removing it from the loops in his trousers. Coiling the buckle end around his hand, he flexed the thick leather thoughtfully as he looked at Sara.
‘Open your legs wider, slut,’ he ordered, and she did as she was told without flinching, though she must have been aware that we were now presented with a breathtaking view. The next thing I heard was a whistling as the belt flew through the air, to land with a loud crack across the cheeks of her bum. Sara yelped, but held her position, and George smiled at me, acknowledging that I had taught her well.
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Epub ISBN: 9780753530399
Version 1.0
Please remember: in real life, make sure you practise safe sex.
First published in 2001 by
Thames Wharf Studios
Rainville Road
London W6 9HA
Copyright © Nexus Books 2001
Typeset by TW Typesetting, Plymouth, Devon
Printed and bound by
Cox & Wyman Ltd, Reading, Berks
ISBN 0 352 33621 8
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The Ties that Bind
Spanking Good Times
The Top and Bottom of It
Showing Off
All Wrapped Up
Bring a Friend
Me, Myself and I
Waxing Lyrical
The Bare Essentials
Wet and Wild
The Eyes have It




The Ties that Bind
When my boyfriend Carl and I went on holiday to Amsterdam, we used it as the opportunity to act out one of my long-standing fantasies. On our first night there, we headed straight for the red-light district and found a sex shop which had the biggest range of toys and accessories either of us had ever seen. We knew exactly what we wanted to buy: fur-lined wrist and ankle cuffs, and a dildo of almost freakish proportions. It was black, a good twelve inches long and as thick round as my forearm. My fantasy has always been to be tied up and forced to take an object of this size inside me, and tonight we were going to make that fantasy come true.
Back in our hotel room, Carl stripped the covers off the bed, then encouraged me to lie down beside him. We spent a long time kissing and gradually taking off each other’s clothes. Soon, Carl was paying attention to my tits, licking and sucking my little brown nipples, while his hand explored the folds of my pussy. I was going to have to be very wet and ready to take that monster dildo, and Carl knows the best way to achieve that. He laid me back on the bed and moved so that his head was between my legs. For the next half an hour he concentrated on exciting me with his lips and tongue, until my cunt was dripping. Then he went to fetch the cuffs, quickly securing me to the bed, spread out like a star. I knew now that I would not be able to back out, and that soon I was going to be feeling that dildo inside me.
Carl began to work on me with his fingers. I was already so wet that he could slide two fingers into me without any difficulty, and he quickly added a third and then a fourth, while his thumb gently teased the entrance to my arse. In that moment, I knew that if he wanted to, he could get his hand inside me to the knuckles, and the thought turned me on even more.
Soon I was begging him to use the dildo on me, and he took it out of its box and presented it to my lips for me to suck. I could barely get my lips round the end, and so I used my tongue to lave its length, my saliva soon glistening on the black plastic.
At last, Carl pulled the dildo away from my mouth and pressed it to the opening of my cunt. As he pushed, I began to fear that this thing was just too big for me to take, and that it would split me in two if I tried. But then my pussy parted wide enough to allow the end to slip inside me, and I realised my fantasy had finally started to come true.
I can’t tell you how long it took for Carl to slide that obscenely fat sex toy into me. I could feel my sex lips being stretched painfully wide as inch after inch of the dildo pushed the walls of my cunt apart, but the pain was tempered with a perverse pleasure at being able to accommodate something of such outrageous proportions. At last the tip of the dildo nudged against the neck of my womb, and I knew that my vagina was completely stuffed with rigid, unforgiving plastic. No man had ever filled me so full, and I could see a look of admiration and lust on Carl’s face, coupled with the humiliating knowledge that he could not satisfy me in the way this dildo could. He had secured me so I was facing the bedroom mirror, and I looked at my reflection, with my pussy full to bursting point, the lips taut and shiny around the dildo.
Slowly, he began to ease the phallus in and out of me. Secured as I was, I could do nothing to prevent the speed or intensity of his movements, and I knew that when I had an orgasm, it would be on his terms. It was almost as though he was punishing me for wanting that huge, fake cock inside me – a cock that was so much bigger than his own.
I moaned and gasped as he tormented me with the dildo, begging him to let me come. It was hot in that little bedroom, and I could feel sweat trickling down between my breasts as I writhed in my bonds, trying to get him to stimulate me in the ways that would bring on my climax.
At last, he reached down and ran his fingernail lightly over my clit. My nerve-endings were so sensitised, that was all it took, and my body exploded in orgasm, bucking and shuddering on the bed.
Carl withdrew the dildo from my aching pussy, and presented it to my lips, making me lick it clean of my juices. I was sore and exhausted, but I felt utterly satisfied. Perhaps one day I will get the chance to use that huge dildo on Carl!
Julie R.,
When my husband asked me what I wanted for my birthday, I think my answer came as a surprise. Instead of asking for a piece of jewellery or a new dress, I told him that I wanted to be tied up and fucked by several men. More than that, I didn’t want to know who was actually fucking me: they could be friends, they could be strangers, but I wanted to be blindfolded throughout the whole event, so that I could experience the sensation of being pleasured by an unknown number of anonymous bodies.
David agreed to this, as we have often invited other men to have sex with us, and he loves to watch me writhing on a big cock, or sucking another man’s dick while he ploughs my cunt from behind. I could also see that the idea of me being restrained while I was fucked was something of a turn-on to him, and I was really looking forward to my birthday treat.
Come the day itself, David and I shared a bottle of wine, and then he led me upstairs to the bedroom. I stripped down to my stockings and suspenders, and then he used fur-lined cuffs to fasten my wrists and ankles to the bed, spreading me out so I was open and vulnerable. Then he took a black silk scarf and tied it securely over my eyes, blocking out the light. The next thing I heard was his footsteps leaving the room.
I don’t know how long I lay there, wondering what was about to happen; with the blindfold in place, it was impossible to keep track of time. The anticipation was making me wet, my pussy gently pulsing and moistening as I waited. Then I heard footsteps on the stairs, and I strained my ears to see if I could make out how many men might be coming to join me.
Suddenly, I felt hands caressing my tits, gently at first, but then squeezing with more pressure, turning my nipples into two hard peaks. The hands were replaced by a mouth; I felt a rasp of stubble as teeth nipped at the tender buds, and realised this was not my clean-shaven David. My excitement grew as a hand snaked between my legs. Was this the same man, or someone else entirely? I had no way of knowing. Perhaps David wasn’t even in the room, though I thought this unlikely as he would want to watch every moment of what was being done to me.
A cock was presented to my lips, and I began to suck on it, recognising the clean, salty tang of my husband’s dick. As my tongue flicked over the bulbous head, the hand between my thighs probed more deeply, fingers parting my cunt lips and thrusting without ceremony deep into my wet sheath. David groaned and came deep in the back of my throat. As he withdrew his wilting cock, it was replaced by another. A mouth was still busy sucking my tits, three fingers were pumping in and out of my sex and now I was beginning to get confused.
The fingers were pulled from my cunt and now they were playing with my arsehole. I groaned around the cock that filled my mouth as a finger slipped into my tight anal passage. I writhed in my bonds, my body being overwhelmed by the sensations that were rushing through me. When a mouth settled on my clit and began to nibble it gently, I shrieked and came, thrusting my mound up towards the unknown lips that were giving me so much pleasure.
For the next couple of hours, it seemed as though my body was constantly at the mercy of hands, mouths and cocks. I was fucked so many times I lost count, and when I was not sucking a hard cock, I was being urged to lick a limp one back to full erection. One of the men David had found had the biggest cock I’ve ever encountered, and though I never actually got to see it, I had the sheer joy of this monster stretching my cunt to its absolute limit. At one point, I had someone squatting over me, wanking his cock between my big, firm tits. When he came, his spunk splattered over my face and hair, dribbling down into my mouth.
By the time the men were finally satisfied, my cunt was swollen and sore, and I was so full of come it was oozing out of me and down the crack of my arse on to the bedsheets. Spunk matted my hair to my cheeks where I had thrashed against the pillows in my excitement, and I was sure the fingers that had groped my tits had left bruises on my flesh. I had loved every moment of it, and I still had no idea exactly how many men had fucked me. David has kept silent on that point, and I hope he continues to do so. I look at all his friends speculatively now, wondering if I have sucked their cocks, or taken them deep inside my pussy, and the thought that I may well have done brings all the excitement of that unforgettable evening flooding back.
Fern L.,
‘Do you trust me?’ he asked. It was a strange question, given that I had already allowed him to strip me naked and chain my arms together over my head, but there was only one answer I could give. I trusted him utterly and without question. In the few short months we had been together, I had trusted him to gradually enslave me, to take me down the path towards complete submission and to push me past limits I had sworn I would never go beyond. I had learnt to come while I was being beaten, taking pleasure in the pain he inflicted on me and begging for more, and I wore silver rings through both my nipples and my clitoral hood, rings which had been placed there at his desire. I had already been hanging in my chains for the best part of an hour while he had paddled my arse and the backs of my thighs until they were red and sore, and I was willing to suffer whatever indignities he might wish to inflict on me.
Yet even though I trusted him implicitly not to hurt me, I could not hide a shiver of fear as he drew out the item he had been hiding from behind his back. It was a hunting knife, which he drew from its leather case, its blade gleaming in the half-light of this little stone-walled room. No doubt he had picked it up on one of his business trips to the States, which was where he found many of the little toys and implements he had used on me in his dungeon.
He touched the edge of the blade to his finger, as though testing its sharpness. This would be the ultimate test of my trust and love for him, and as he pressed the flat of the knife against the flesh of my breasts, I flinched away from him.
‘Relax,’ he told me. ‘It’s nothing to be afraid of, little one.’ Gently, he played the blade over my breasts and down my flat stomach, moving closer to my pussy. I was breathing shallowly, my breasts heaving and sweat glistening on my tautly stretched body. I had to believe that he would not hurt me, and I did my best to stay completely still as the tip of the blade moved between my swollen pussy lips, to catch in the ring that protruded from my labia. He tugged firmly, the pressure as the ring pulled at that delicate nub of flesh agonisingly sweet. He had not allowed me to come yet; every time I had come close to the moment of crisis, he had pulled back, and now I was desperate for relief, having been denied it so often. As he pressed the flat of the cold blade against my overheating sex flesh, I begged him to let me come.
I wanted him inside me as the knife played over my skin. I wanted him to mark me with the blade, so that everyone would see it and know that I was his. At this moment, I would do anything for him, and let him do anything to me. He moved the knife up so that it was resting against my throat. I swallowed hard but my fear had gone, and I trusted him to bring me only pleasure.
As though sensing I had passed the test, he thrust the knife back into its sheath and let it fall to the floor. The next thing I felt was his hard cock sliding into my wet cunt, claiming me as his. As I hung there, my toes making the barest contact with the floor, he thrust up into me hard, the pressure of his pubic bone against mine stimulating my sensitised clit. This time I had his permission to come, and I did, calling his name and screaming out how much I loved him. Of course I trust him; no one else understands me like him, and no one else would ever be allowed to do the things to me that he does.
Abigail M.,
There is nothing finer than taking someone who loves and trusts you, and pushing them to the absolute limit of what they will do for you. I am happy to say that in Callum, I have found someone who will obey me utterly, and loves nothing better than to kneel at my feet, his hands bound behind his back, worshipping me in whatever way I desire.
Callum enjoys being subservient to me, but he does not like pain, and I recently decided to have some fun with him, to see just how much he would be willing to accept. I secured him to the bed with lengths of bondage tape, making sure that his movements were severely restricted, then I used my fingers, greased up with a little massage oil perfumed with jasmine and ylang ylang, to bring his cock to full erection. I do love his cock – it may only be a little over five inches long, but it is satisfyingly thick and can stay hard for hours on end – and there is nothing nicer than to pull the velvet sheath of his foreskin back and forth over the head until the whole length points skyward. When I was satisfied that he was as hard as possible, I went to fetch the little treats I had in store for him.
Often, I will blindfold him before I begin to torment his bound body, but today I wanted him to see exactly what was about to happen. His eyes widened in fear at the sight of the first toy I brandished in front of him. It was a bunch of nettles, which I had picked from the wood at the bottom of our garden only half an hour earlier. I waved them in my leather-gloved hand as he moaned and begged me not to use them on him. I smiled ruthlessly.
‘It’s nice to appreciate the benefits of nature,’ I told him. ‘Just relax . . .’
As I spoke, I brushed the nettles lightly over his nipples. Immediately, his pale, freckly Celtic skin began to flush a mottled red, and the little hairs around his areolae stood up stiffly.
‘Please, no more, Mistress,’ he whimpered.
‘But we’ve only just started,’ I told him, and brushed the nettles over the wet head of his cock, so lightly that at first it barely registered with him. Then he must have felt the stinging pain, and he groaned. When I took the dark green leaves more tightly in my gloved fist and wrapped them around the veiny shaft of his penis, rubbing them up and down, his eyes rolled in his head and his manhood jerked so convulsively that I thought he was about to come then and there.
‘It stings . . .’ he complained, almost choking on the words.
‘Yes, but you love it, don’t you?’ I said. ‘Or at least, your cock does.’
I gestured towards his twitching member. Despite the apparent discomfort he was in, his erection had not wavered in strength; if anything, it was even harder than when I had begun to torment it. But how would it react when I turned to stage two of my wicked little plan?
When I tossed the nettles casually into the waste paper basket, Callum breathed a little sigh of relief. It was short-lived, as he watched me take the candle I had also brought with me. Striking a match, I lit it and let it burn for a moment, until a little pool of wax had begun to form around the wick.
Callum, realising exactly what I had in mind, went crazy. He began to shake in his bonds, knowing he was powerless to free himself but seeming almost desperate to do so. There is a little word that is kept secret between the two of us, which he can use at any time to call a halt to proceedings, and I waited for him to utter it. As I might have known he would, however, he remained silent.
I bent over him, giving him a good view down my top to where my big breasts nestled in my bra. He licked his lips at the sight of the creamy globes, pressed together to form a deep, inviting cleavage.
‘If you’re still erect by the time I’ve finished, you can fuck them,’ I told him. I know he loves nothing better than to come between my tits, and it seemed a suitable reward for what he was about to undergo.
He nodded his assent, his eyes torn between the glimpses he was getting of my tits and the sight of the candle flame flickering on the bedside cabinet. When I reached for the candle, he groaned and his cock twitched again. I held it over his chest, a good distance away, and tilted it towards him. A fat drop of wax formed at its tip, then dropped on to his skin. He let out a little yelp as the wax rapidly cooled and hardened. I scraped the blob away, intrigued; beneath it, his skin was reddened, but not burnt.
Satisfied with my handiwork, I let another drop fall, this time on to his nipple, and he gave a little shriek.
‘You really are a little wimp, aren’t you?’ I said. ‘If you’re squealing like a girl when it touches your nipples, what are you going to do when it touches this –’
With that, I let a couple of blobs of molten wax land on the shaft of his cock in quick succession.
‘Please, Mistress, no more,’ Callum begged, but he was still fully erect and seemed to be riding the sudden flashes of pain.
When I had tied him up, I had made sure that his spread legs were bent at the knees. In this position, I had access to his arsehole, as well as his cock, and as he gibbered and pleaded with me to show some mercy, I let a trail of wax dribble down the sensitive skin of his perineum, all the way down to the puckered entrance to his arse. Tears had formed in his eyes and he was biting his lip, but he had still not said our code word.
At last, I decided he had had enough. I picked off the hardened wax from the shaft of his penis with my fingernails, and scraped it away from where it had matted his pubes, then I pulled off my top and unfastened my bra, letting my tits fall free. They are so big that I can actually lift them to my mouth and lick my nipples, which I did while he watched avidly.
As I bent over him, unfastening the tape which bound his wrists and ankles to the bed, he raised his head, trying to take one of my nipples between his lips, but I slapped him away.
‘Don’t be greedy,’ I told him, even though my cunt was getting damp at the thought of Callum’s mouth suckling me. I moved down the bed and pushed my breasts together around his straining erection, urging him to thrust his hips upward. I lowered my head, so that as the tip of his cock emerged from the valley of my cleavage, I could give it a little lick, like it was a warm, salty lollipop. It only took a few strokes before Callum groaned and announced that he was coming. I opened my mouth wide and took every drop of his salty seed down my throat with relish.
It proves you don’t need to spend a fortune on expensive equipment to keep a submissive in line; all you need is some imagination and, if you’re feeling particularly kind, some dock leaves to soothe away the sting.
Renee G.,
My boyfriend Roy and I love role-playing games, particularly ones which enable us to indulge our joint passion for bondage. One of our favourites is when he pretends to be a burglar who breaks into our flat, and I am the woman who discovers him going through my possessions, looking for something to steal.
When I see what he is doing, I threaten to call the police, but Roy quickly moves to overpower me. I put up a mock struggle, but he is a big bloke who works out in the gym on a regular basis, so he is much too strong for me. He pushes me down on to one of our wooden-backed dining chairs, and uses one of my stockings to tie my hands together behind me. To make sure I am securely fastened and cannot move to raise the alarm, he uses more stockings to tie my legs to the legs of the chair. When we play this game, I am usually wearing nothing more than a semi-transparent nightie, which shows the dark points of my nipples and my pubic bush through the thin fabric. Roy will also push the nightie up round my waist when he ties me in place and, with my legs spread apart, this means my wispy blonde pussy is on display. Of course, I am protesting about the intrusion, and he tells me that if I don’t shut up, it will be the worse for me. As he speaks, he runs his hand over the swell of my breasts and down between my legs. I can’t stop myself from moaning, and he laughs, telling me I’m just a wanton little slut who deserves everything she is going to get. Roy really looks the part, with his shaven head and big, bulging muscles, and I’m frightened and excited by the situation, even though I know he would never seriously lay a finger on me.
I carry on making a noise, telling him he can’t treat me this way, and that if I scream loudly enough, someone in one of the neighbouring flats will hear me and come to investigate. He says he has the solution to this, and uses a handkerchief which he pulls from his pocket to gag me. Being treated in this way is really making my juices flow, and I want to move on to the next part of the game, which is where the ‘burglar’ decides to fuck me before making his exit, but I am at Roy’s mercy. He can string proceedings out for ages if he wants to; often, he will spend a long time playing with my nipples and exposed quim, until I am panting through my makeshift gag and desperate for him to enter me with his big, hard cock. On one occasion, he actually ripped my nightie right down the front before mauling my naked tits with his leather-gloved hands, and this display of casual strength nearly had me coming before he had even touched my pussy.
At last, he announces that it is time for him to go, but before he does, he wants to leave me something to remember him by. He unties me from the chair, but as I vainly try to rub the life back into my aching wrists, he shoves me down on to the settee, and, with his knee in the small of my back to keep me in place, he ties my wrists behind me once more.
He warns me to stay where I am and not look round as he takes something down from the mantelpiece. I hear the sound of his zip coming down, and then a soft, squelching sound. Not caring that I am disobeying his orders, I turn my head and see that he is stropping his erection with liberal amounts of my honeysuckle-scented hand cream. As my cunt is running like a river from the stimulation I have already received, I know I do not need any more lubrication if he is going to enter me there, and realise he has another target in mind. That realisation is confirmed when he roughly kicks my legs apart and starts smearing more of the hand cream into my anal hole. I start to protest again, telling him that no one has ever had me there and that I don’t want him to be the first. Of course, he ignores me, and the next thing I feel is the head of his cock nudging at my greased anus. Relaxing my ring, I give up any resistance – after all, I have been looking forward to this moment since we first started – and let him slowly ease his way into my tightest passage. The excitement the game has created in both of us means that our fuck is fast and frantic, and soon he is pulling out of my arse to spray his hot come over its upturned cheeks.
A couple of weeks ago, Roy started a new job as a security guard. His uniform has given us the opportunity to play some games where I am the one who is on the wrong side of the law, but that is a story for another time.
Julia K.,
Spanking Good Times
When my new secretary started work, I knew she was going to be trouble. Karen was in her late teens, with long, blonde hair, a curvy body and long, slim legs. She was an immediate hit with the blokes in the office. Not that I was jealous, but she spent more time on flirting with them by the coffee machine than she did typing up my correspondence or filing paperwork. That was annoying in itself, but I also had the feeling she was doing some petty pilfering, too. No money ever went missing, just little things like staplers and scissors. I was certain she was taking them, as the problem coincided with her joining the firm, but I had no way of proving it. So I decided to set a trap for her.
One lunchtime, I made a great show of leaving some books of luncheon vouchers on my desk, which were supposed to be handed round with the pay slips, then I slipped my coat on and told Karen I was popping out for five minutes to get a sandwich. But I didn’t leave the office. Instead, I waited round the corner, counted to thirty, and walked back into my office just in time to see Karen slipping the vouchers into her handbag.
Even though she knew she had been caught red-handed, she still tried to brazen her way out of the situation.
‘You think you’re so clever, don’t you?’ she said cockily. ‘Well, it’s your word against mine.’
‘But I know who’s more likely to be believed,’ I replied.
‘So what are you going to do – fire me?’ she asked, knowing I would be completely within my rights to do so.
I shook my head. ‘I want to teach you a lesson. You don’t seem to have learnt that stealing is wrong, and I am going to make up for that gap in your education. And the only way I can do that is by punishing you.’
‘You must be joking,’ she said, but something of the cockiness had gone from her voice.
I picked up the thick, clear plastic ruler that was lying on my desk. ‘I’ve never been more serious,’ I told her. ‘Now, bend over the desk.’
She stared at me, open-mouthed. ‘Of course, I could always call the security guard and have you escorted from the building,’ I told her.
Perhaps realising she had no other option, she turned and bent over as I had asked, gripping the edge of the desk with suddenly shaking fingers.
‘Spread your legs,’ I told her, and again she obeyed.
Revelling in the sudden rush of power I felt, I went to stand behind her, and caught hold of the hem of her short, black skirt. ‘Hey, what are you doing?’ she protested, as I rucked the skirt up around her waist. Beneath it, she wore a pair of plain white cotton knickers that stretched tautly across her round bum cheeks. It was a tempting target, and I knew I was going to give it something it had deserved for a long time.
I measured my swing, giving the ruler a little tap against her backside, and then I let fly. The ruler landed with a satisfying slap across her bum, and she yelped in anguish and stood up, rubbing the tender spot. ‘Get back in place,’ I told her, ‘or I’ll double your punishment.’
I laid half a dozen stinging blows on her bum in rapid succession. She was making small moaning noises, but she didn’t try to rise from her bent-over position again. When I stopped, she must have thought that was it. She didn’t realise that I had only just started.
I hooked my fingers in the waistband of her knickers and began to pull them down. She started to protest, but I think she was beginning to realise just who had the power in this situation, and so she stood meekly and let me tug her knickers down until they were around her knees. I could see the results of my handiwork so far; her bum was mottled red, and as I brushed my palm over it lightly I could feel the heat rising from what must have been sore flesh.
‘We’ll finish with a few without your panties,’ I told her. ‘Just to make sure you’ve really learnt your lesson.’
Karen whimpered in fear, but I was enjoying myself now. This time, the ruler landed on bare flesh, and I could see the red line which sprang up as a result. I knew it would form into a thick, solid weal which would make sitting down difficult for a day or so, and I rapidly followed it with a second and a third. In all, I put six stripes on her bum, by which time she was crying openly, her hair sticking to her cheeks and her previous cocky composure completely shattered.
Finally, I allowed her to pull up her knickers, rearrange her clothing and get out of the office. That night, I lay in bed, fingering myself to a powerful orgasm as I replayed Karen’s punishment in my head. I’d half expected to find a letter of resignation on my desk the following morning. It wasn’t, although the episode was never referred to again. When she did move on, however, I made sure to give her a reference which was as glowing as her backside had once been.
Rita J.,
I have been looking for somewhere to rent, having recently split up from my boyfriend, but it has been hard to find something to suit my limited means. When I saw a postcard in the local newsagent’s window advertising a room to rent at a price that seemed almost ridiculously cheap, I rang to make an appointment to view it, though I expected the room to have gone already. Instead, I was told by the flat’s owner, Marcus, that there were special conditions attached to the rental of the room, which was why there had, as yet, been no takers. I asked what these conditions were, and he said he couldn’t tell me over the phone. Intrigued, I made an appointment to view the flat the following evening after work.
The place, when I saw it, was beautiful. A lot of men can be very untidy – in fact, one of the reasons why my boyfriend and I went our separate ways was because I was sick of always having to clear up after him – but Marcus was incredibly neat. All his books and CDs were filed in alphabetical order, the pot plants on his balcony looked healthy and well cared for and the kitchen and bathroom were spotless. The spare room was not particularly big, and it only had a single bed, but I was not planning to have any male company for a while. I told Marcus it was just what I was looking for, and then I asked him what the ‘special conditions’ he had mentioned were.
To my utter surprise, he told me that he had been at public school, and had learnt there the values of neatness and order. He had been a prefect and, as such, he had been responsible for keeping discipline. At his school, untidiness had been a grave offence, and one which was punishable with a caning. Anyone who rented out his spare room would have to keep the place clean and neat, or suffer the consequences – by which he meant that they would have to agree to be caned by him.
I told him I didn’t think that sounded too bad, at which he asked me whether I had ever been caned. I told him I had gone to an ordinary comprehensive, where the worst punishment anyone ever got was an hour’s detention after school. He then said that a caning was not something to be taken lightly, and suggested that I experience one for myself, then and there. At this point, I suppose, the sensible thing would have been to have backed out and find another place to rent; this, I assume, is what had happened with the other people who had come to view the place. However, I had really fallen in love with that flat, the rent was a steal and after all, I told myself, corporal punishment could not be that bad, could it? Add to that the fact I found Marcus, with his floppy fair hair and almost hypnotic charm, rather attractive, and I had all the reasons I needed to comply with his bizarre desires.
I told Marcus that I accepted his somewhat unorthodox terms, and he told me to prepare myself while he went to fetch the cane. I was to remove my skirt, then bend over the big, leather armchair that dominated the flat’s living room. When I baulked at the first part of this, he explained that the punishment was to consist of three strokes of the cane with my panties on, and three with them off, and that if I objected, I was free to leave at any time. Determined to see things through, I reached for the zip of my skirt, and let it fall to the floor.
When Marcus came back into the room, I was in the position he had specified. As I looked over at him, I saw he was carrying a stout, crook-handled cane – the type I have always thought of as a ‘school’ cane. ‘Very nice,’ he said, and I realised he was referring to the sight of my plump bottom in its navy-blue cotton knickers. I shivered with a mixture of pride and nervous anticipation.
‘Now, I want you to count each stroke and thank me for it,’ he told me. I nodded to show that I understood, gripping the leather arm of the chair tightly as I waited for my punishment to begin. There was a long, long moment when nothing happened, then I heard the cane whistling in the air, followed a split second later by a searing, burning pain like nothing I had ever known. It really felt as though I had been ripped in two, and I could not help jumping up and rubbing my wounded bum. As I fought to regain my senses, I remembered that I had to thank Marcus for what he had just done to me.
‘One . . . thank you,’ I croaked, wondering how I could take one more stroke, let alone another five. And three of those would be on my bare bum, without even the minimal protection my thin panties offered. In theory, I could still back out and walk away, but I had come too far down the path to turn back now. I straightened up, and prepared for the next blow.
This one came lower than the first, and parallel to it. It was just as painful, and I cried out as it landed. Marcus said nothing, and there was a catch in my voice as I thanked him. The third stroke was lower still, perilously close to the tender crease where my buttocks met my thighs, and by now I was in tears. When I felt Marcus take hold of the waistband of my panties and haul them down to the tops of my thighs, I shuddered. How would I stand the pain of the cane on my naked flesh?
Marcus’s fingers stroked lazily over the tramlines he had raised on my backside. ‘It’s such a beautiful sight when a virgin bum takes the cane for the first time,’ he murmured, and I shivered despite myself as his hand moved lower, hoping that he would brush my now surprisingly needy pussy. I knew that in my bent-over position I was offering him a tempting view of my sex and even my bum hole, and I hoped they might be enough to distract him from his punishing task for a moment. But he could not be swayed from his purpose, as I became aware that he was raising the cane again.
This time, that thick, unforgiving length of rattan landed solidly across my bare bum cheeks and I shrieked out loud with the agony of it. I wondered if the neighbours were in and, if so, whether they could hear the anguished cries that were issuing from my mouth. Marcus allowed just enough time for the sharp pain to dull to a persistent throb before giving me the fifth stroke, and by now I was begging him to end my ordeal.
He had one last trick up his sleeve for the sixth and final stroke, and that was when I realised just how skilled he was at giving a caning, and how much sadistic pleasure he took in it. The cane was placed so it criss-crossed the welts which already marked my flesh; if I had seen my reflection at that moment, I would have noticed a strong resemblance to a five-barred gate.
I made to stand up and pull my panties back in place, uncomfortable though that would have been, but Marcus told me to stay where I was.
‘You took that so well,’ he told me, even though I felt like a snivelling wreck and my bottom was a steadily throbbing ball of pain. ‘Wait there for a moment. I’ll be back.’
He disappeared into the bathroom, and when he came out, he was carrying a tub of cold cream. Almost lovingly, he smoothed the cream over my tortured cheeks, the coolness of the cream taking some of the heat out of my skin. This time, his hand did work its way into my cleft, and when his cream-coated fingers settled on my clit and began to rub, the discomfort I was feeling began to change into something sweeter and far more pleasurable. Marcus knew what he was doing, and my climax was swift and sudden, leaving me shuddering as I clutched on to the armchair.
That was six months ago, and I have been renting Marcus’s spare room ever since. I have only once been untidy enough to merit a caning, and he has never been able to work out whether I really did let a pan of milk spill over on to the stove by accident, or whether I did it because I knew it would give him a reason to bring me to the heights of pleasure and pain with his cane and his skilful fingers.
Jackie M.,
You can call me naive, but when I first contacted Geoffrey and Maria, it was because I thought they were offering fitness instruction. I had never quite got my figure back after having my first child, and I was too self-conscious to go to the gym, so the idea of having someone who would come round to my house and put me through a workout was a highly appealing one. I had asked round and got a couple of recommendations, but everyone I tried seemed to have a full schedule of clients. Then I saw the advert Geoffrey and Maria had placed on their Internet site, offering ‘personal training’, and decided to give them a try. I was really looking for a female instructor, but after contacting the couple it soon became obvious they came as a package, and that what they were offering was a workout of a completely different kind to the one I was expecting.