I had a chequered time as a teenager, partly because I suffered physical abuse from my father and mainly because my mother could not control me. My mother split up with my father, and by the time I was seventeen, I had made several court appearances for offences such as shoplifting and breaches of the peace, underage drinking, etc. Too many of my friends were ‘the wrong crowd,’ and I had become hardened.

I was intelligent, and the school took a horrified but tolerant attitude toward my misdemeanours. My older boyfriend, whom I ran around excessively, put up with me, and I’m sure because I was good in bed. One night, I got drunk, and I had a huge row with him. I left the bar and damaged his car by smashing off the radio antenna and a wing mirror.

The police saw me do it and arrested me. I fought them like a tiger, kicking one in the balls and biting another. If it had been only my boyfriend, nothing would have happened, but there I was, in custody. The magistrates sentenced me with my poor record to a year in a reform school and not in prison because I was seventeen. There was nothing I could do about it.

On your arrival at the school, the principal went through your record. In my case, I’m sure he thought I would be trouble, and showed me the canes with which they would thrash me if I deserved it. He described how they gave the punishment, and I was so scared and shocked that I nearly wet myself. But it soon wore off.

A psychiatrist interviewed me. He thought I had suffered a tough childhood and that the school should treat me with kindness. If I behaved for the next month, I could spend a few hours out of uniform one Saturday in town alone. I would have to be back at the Reform School by 6 p.m. before the evening action started in the local bars.

Once I had behaved myself for a month, they granted permission. Late one summer Saturday morning, I slipped out in a nice frock and went downtown. I was sure that my boyfriend had given up on me and found someone else. Once I left the reform school, I immediately considered searching for him in his usual hangouts to see if I could locate him.

I visited a wine bar in town and requested a white wine. I thought I would finish the drink and look for Jim. My first adult drink in three months hit me harder than I knew, but I had another. By the time I had swallowed the second glass, I was buzzing.

I found Jim sitting in this nice bistro with his new paramour. His face fell as I arrived, but he recovered quickly. His new woman looked downright frosty. She was not as nice looking as I was, but had a better figure, as I was thin and my breasts were not enormous. Jim uncomfortably introduced me to Celia, and she reluctantly shook hands.

She glared at me, and I could see Jim’s embarrassment. But he acted like a gentleman, inviting me to sit down, and offering me a drink. Unwisely, I accepted a glass of white wine. This third glass of wine tipped me over the edge, and caution was gone.

I said bitterly and in a loud voice, “Thanks for visiting me inside.”

Jim looked annoyed, but I ignored it and carried on, “You were always keen enough to get into my pants. Can’t you show some gratitude?”

His new lady love yells at me, “Get out of here, you little criminal tramp!”

I swung an accurate punch at her and knocked her off her chair. The bartender came out from behind the counter and a real rough house ensued. The police arrived, and an officer recognised me. He knew about my past. They handcuffed me and drove straight to the reform school. These days, they would have done Celia for non-woke speech.

That evening, at the reform school on the stage in the main hall, they gave me a public caning of twenty-four strokes of the heavy cane. All the girls in the place witnessed it and they had invited Jim and Celia.

The principal ordered silence, and he said, “Anna, you will receive twenty-four strokes of the heavy cane on your bare buttocks. Try to take your punishment with as much dignity as possible.”

'You old fart,' I thought rebelliously.

They secured me by the wrists and ankles, and with a waist strap to a padded trestle, my bottom facing the audience.

One of the Security Guards was standing there holding the cane. I wanted a pee, and I panicked. The cane tapped my bottom, and there was a rushing noise as the cane whistled in the air. I heard rather than felt it crack into my buttocks. It almost knocked the breath out of me. A split second later, the pain seared through me as a white-hot smart.

At this first stroke, I did not yell out. But I knew I could easily lose control of my bladder. Stroke after stroke cracked hard across my rump and I was in a sea of pain that radiated throughout my body, and I’m sure my hair was standing on end. If they did not stop soon, I was going to piss myself. Despite my pain and tears, I grimly concentrated on not losing control of my bladder.

These days, I would have let my pee go as hard as I could while they were caning me. I often wonder what they would have done if I had! I suppose crucifixion would have been going too far, even for them.

Another awful wave of pain burst through me, following a horrendous ‘crash,’ as the cane caught me lower on my buttocks. I screamed, “I must have a piss now!” but to no avail.

After receiving about ten strokes, through my screams, I dimly registered that the principal said, “After the twelfth stroke, we will release her and let her urinate. Matron, fetch a bucket.”

The caning ceased after the twelfth stroke, and I felt myself being released. The principal took one of my arms and the deputy the other. After a moment of inattention from the deputy, I got a hand back and gave my bottom a frantic rub.

“For that, you will get an extra four strokes.”

They had put the bucket on the stage, and they held me over it, facing the audience. I peed into it like a farm animal. At that moment, I was past caring.

The next few strokes were agonising, but the interruption in the caning had helped, and I was experiencing a feeling of floating in sub-space. My caning carried on to its conclusion. When it stopped, they released me, but I could not move my legs.

The two men picked me up and dragged me to the matron’s office. They laid me face down on the couch and I lay there sobbing weakly. I was in awful pain, which returned as a consuming ache. The matron produced an antiseptic cream that burned and stung as she applied it to my flaming rump. She wrapped a loose cotton bandage around me and they transferred me to a nearby bed.

After a day there, I returned to the dormitory. I still had trouble walking and going to the toilet was difficult. Sensation replaced the pain after a few days, and when I wriggled about when sitting on the loo seat, I felt horny. The experience had another unexpected but beneficial effect because, at last; I understood I must get a grip on my life, and I could not carry on in the way I had in the past.

Then something happened. My punishment had appalled one of the younger female guards, and she had visited my mother to tell her what had happened. She said that she had found out from the guard that the twenty-four stroke caning I had suffered was against regulations, which permitted a maximum of twelve strokes. My mother had gone to a solicitor and then came to see me.

The solicitor visited me, and I told him about the twenty-four stroke caning with the four extra strokes, in front of all the inmates, and that they would not listen to me when I told them I needed to urinate. I described how they made me urinate in public into a bucket and everyone was watching. His eyebrows nearly went off the top of his head.

“Don’t worry; I will talk to a minister of parliament about this, and if necessary, publicise the whole affair.”

There was a guard listening. I thought, 'I wonder what happens next!'

Within the hour, I was out of the prison ‘defaulter’s uniform,’ and back in my old clothes. All the punishment restrictions stopped.

Within a week, the authorities had dismissed the old principal and the matron. The new and younger principal arrived and the first thing he did was to apologise to me for what had gone on. Then he said, “We can arrange for you to be given aptitude tests to see what sort of training might be best for you. Once the results are in, we will see what we can do.”

Here was a chance to get my life in order. Shortly after, a group of people arrived and gave me tests to do. Two days after the tests, the principal and his assistant sent for me.

“You did very well at the logical reasoning and mathematics tests. We think you could have a future in computer programming. How do you feel about this?”

I was pleased, and I asked where the training would take place. It would be at the local technical college.

I thanked them very much and the next Monday I started the course. To my relief, I found it fairly easy and got on well. I had eight months of my sentence left and this was just long enough to get the diploma.

Close to the end of the course and my time at the reform school, a lecturer was sick, and they cancelled the first class of the afternoon. We girls sat around in the canteen drinking coffee. Of course, there was a bit of sexy chat amongst us students. One girl said that her boyfriend had warmed her bottom with a leather paddle and she liked it. Some girls knew about my caning at the reform school and felt sorry for me.

I think they were all shy to talk about it in front of me, but this girl did not know about it. So I explained what had happened to me. They sat there in silence as I told them what had gone on, and how the principal had exceeded his authority by ordering the twenty-four-stroke caning, plus the extra four strokes.

We were all girls together, so I told them about how I had to pee in the bucket in front of the audience at the reform school. It was a disgusting thing to do to a girl. This was the first time I had told them about it, and they all gasped in horror. I explained that a few days after the caning; I had felt very horny, and I told them I wanted to receive a light caning again to see if I would still feel the same way. They looked a little shocked.

“How could you think of that after what you went through?”

“Sure. The brutal way they carried it out at reform school was disgusting, inhumane and agonising. If you do it in private and moderately with someone with whom you have a relationship, it would not be humiliating. It might be very sensual and lead to a great sexual experience. But the disciplinary caning made me realise I needed to get my act together. So an excellent result has come out of it.”

“Don’t worry. It didn’t kill me. Thanks to the solicitor, the reform school now has to behave correctly towards the inmates. That is why they put me on the computer programming course. The whole affair has changed my life so much for the better, and it has been worth receiving a caning for that.”

Most of them were so surprised, but one girl said, “My Mother caned me a few times, but nothing like what you went through. She did it first when I was sixteen. She caught me with my boyfriend’s hand inside my panties. Yes, I’m aware the afterglow has a strong sexual element to it.”

This girl, called Liz, followed me out of the college as I walked to the reform school van and talked with me. How should she go about getting a boyfriend to spank her? She slowed her pace, and I knew she wanted to talk. I suggested that the best thing to do was to have a boyfriend who was a natural ‘switch.’ He would take a spanking and give one. She needed to be sure that the guy was sane, not of a violent disposition, and see if she could spank him first! But it remained to be seen if he would respond or agree to it!

The suggestions regarding his character and inclinations went down well with her. Liz said the boyfriend performed well in bed and was self-confident. She promised to let me know how things progressed. I advised her to look at spanking sites on the internet, some of which offered excellent information! I said if she wanted to talk again, find me in the college and we could have another chat. But I didn’t want to get too involved with solving her problems, so I left it at that.

The diploma depended partly on your coursework and partly on an exam at the end, which I passed. I got the diploma with a distinction. The principal gave it to me personally, and within two weeks; I went home.

I found my old boyfriend, Jim. His embarrassment about what had happened was clear. He had finished with Celia, and had been waiting for me. My treatment at the reform school had shocked him, and he felt partly responsible. He wanted to make it up to me.

At first, I was suspicious, but he was genuine about it. We started going out again, and I applied for some computer programming jobs. It was not long before I got a suitable job, which was well paid.

The HR manager said that with my diploma, I ought to continue with part-time studies in the evenings. Back at the technical college, I found out what was available.

They said, “If you can do Open University (OU) studies, and with what we can offer you in the evenings, you can do a degree course. Your diploma, because you got it with distinction, will count as three-course units out of the twelve that you need for an honours degree. You could finish it within less than three years.”

This had been beyond my dreams, and I signed up for it immediately. The company said they would pay my college fees, and if I was still working for them and if I got my degree, they would refund the OU fees. This was possible without a ‘taxation penalty.’ I was landing on my feet!

My relationship with Jim improved. He could see I had settled down and was working hard. His company was doing well, and he had matured, knowing he needed to treat me as a woman, and not as a sex object. He had bought himself a small terraced house and had been spending a lot of time working on it. It was lovely inside and he invited me to move in and I thought, why not? I had been there only two days when he apologised (again!) for what happened on the day of my caning at the reform school. Jim was soft and considerate to me, and I loved it

“Don’t worry, it was my fault much more than it was yours,” which was true.

A few days after my reform school caning, Jim told me that Celia was a nasty bitch, and he got rid of her. He had wanted to get on the list of my visitors. Because he had been present at my arrests, they would not put him on the list.

“Jim, it doesn’t matter, because it’s all over.”

My embarrassment at having put him through this was real. We were both immature, but I was worse. The thing that was on my mind, despite not knowing how Jim would take it, forced itself out of me.

I explained, still feeling embarrassed, “As the pain of my caning turned into a sensation, I felt horny when I sat on the marks. Will I feel the same way after a less severe caning? I want to find out, please Jim.”

Jim said, in a kindly manner, “Please, don’t let it embarrass you. ‘Spanking’ is a much more common kink than you perhaps understand.”

I was silent for a moment. This was something I had not thought of, or been aware of. Jim was making it much easier for me to reveal my inner feelings.

“A few days after the reform school caning, I felt much more alive, although my bottom was hurting still. I want to see how I feel after a lighter caning.” I could not help blushing.

Jim smiled at me and said, “I never told you this before, but I got caned several times at my grammar school. I was very turned on by the sensations within a few hours of receiving the caning, and I used to fantasise about caning a girl.”

“But I knew I had to put that out of my mind. After what you had been through, I did not think you would ever ask for the cane again. Is it really what you want, because if it is, I think we ought to cane each other? Darling, I will not cane you unless you cane me too.”

He took my hand and caressed it. Jim was thinking about me and my innermost feelings, so nice to know!

“Anna, please, there’s no need to feel embarrassed. I’m up for it. We can give ourselves time and work out what to do to make us happy.”

We were having a good sex life, but I thought we were not so adventurous and I was up for something to move it to a higher level. But following what I had been through, I was being careful with my life. Jim’s measured response reassured me.

I said, “Let’s look at the internet for some suitable canes with which to have a bit of fun and see where it leads.”

Jim immediately agreed. I thought he did so to keep on the right side of me! “Yes, let’s do that right away!” He spent less time on the internet than me. We looked at several possibilities and chose one of the more moderately priced outlets and ordered two canes. One was a ‘nursery’ cane and one was a ‘junior’ cane. Those ‘judicial’ or ‘Singapore-style’ canes were far too much.

Jim ordered the two of them online, and we waited for them to arrive ‘in plain wrapping.’

They arrived within the week. Jim said, “When shall we try them out?”

I didn’t want a caning mid-week. The idea of having to sit at work, or in the college on a hard seat with a sore bottom did not appeal.

So, I said, “Why not Friday night?” Jim agreed immediately. It would give me a chance for pain in my bottom to decrease before Monday morning.

Our sex life was flourishing so very well. I would be home by six-thirty. We could have the caning on an empty stomach and see what came of it, riotous sex or a trip to the pub, whatever.

Friday arrived after what seemed like an eternity, and I arrived home ahead of Jim. I showered, warmed up our bedroom, drew the curtains, and lifted a second layer of thick cloth on top of the curtain, held in place by clothes pegs. This would help, with the double-glazing, to cut down on any ‘noises’ that might arise. It’s not a good idea for people to think that a cane might be in use. The sounds of its arrival on a sensitive area of the body, and the reaction of the recipient, are unmistakable.

Jim came home with a look of anticipation on his face. He showered and came into the bedroom, hugged and kissed me, and then knelt on the bed, bottom up, head down.

He said, “Cane me please.”

“Thin cane, or the thicker one, please?”

“The thicker one, and first give me six of the best, please.”

Before he arrived, I had practised caning a pillow. This was after I had read an internet article about the good caning procedure and I was doing my best to follow it. After I aimed, I tapped his bum twice, then the rushing noise, ‘crack’ a wonderful stroke hard across the middle of his bottom. Jim jerked and gasped. He lifted a hand off the bed but must have thought better about rubbing the cane mark as he put his hand back.

After I counted up to fifteen, I repeated the action, possibly a little harder. Tap-tap, rushing noise, ‘crack.’

Jim gave a louder gasp this time. Two big red lines appeared on his bum.

I carried on like this, increasing the force of the caning with each stroke. By stroke number six, his buttocks were in automatic motion. Jim was not just gasping but giving a bit of a yell after each stroke.

I rubbed the vivid marks on his bum. “Oh hell,” said Jim, “It’s been a long time since I was last caned. It doesn’t get any better. I have been a naughty boy, and I must take six more strokes.”

I gave him six more real stingers, and he yelled as each one landed. He got up off the bed and I put my arms around him, hugged him, and then reached down and rubbed his bum again. The hot welts were rising!

I knelt on the bed. “Jim, please give me six strokes with the thin cane. Don’t let me die waiting!”

Jim took the thin cane and aimed. With a light tap and a ‘crack,’ it stung only a little!

“Jim,” I said, “I am not made of glass. Please, do it properly. I mean, do it hard.”

The next stroke was harder. It hurt a little, but I didn’t show it at all.

“Come on,” I said, “Harder.”

Stroke number three was better. It stung, and I had to control my breathing. I was becoming stimulated, and I could feel the juices flowing.

“Please, the last three, do them hard. I need it, please!” I begged.

“OK,” Jim said. “Do you want them slow, or I give them fast, and finish the caning?”

I thought, “Let’s get them over and see what comes next!”

Within seconds, all I could think of was the white-hot heat building in my bum as Jim delivered the final three stingers. In the end, I collapsed on the bed, rubbing frantically, but not in tears. I wanted no more strokes.

“Good boy,” I said, “That’s more like it.”

Jim had a massive erection. I rolled onto my back and said, “Time to deal with that.”

Jim needed no second bidding, and I got the screwing of a lifetime. As we lay there in post-coital bliss, Jim said, “The pain goes away quickly. I feel a lot of ‘sensation,’ but not actual pain.”

“Same for me,” I said. “It was hard, but not brutal. I wonder how we will feel next week.”

The answer to that is, I felt on top of the world. It is as if the caning re-set my nervous system and it seemed to have de-stressed me. For the next couple of weeks, I was in good shape until the feeling faded a little. It was going to be a regular caning for me from now on. It was a great addition to sex! Liz found me again at college and came straight to the point. Her suggestions about spanking had gone down badly with the boyfriend, who thought it was too way out. She had finished with him because she knew that her sex life had been lacking, but he had no interest in livening it up. What on earth was wrong with him?

“What now?” she asked.

There had been ‘scandalous’ news items over the past year about people who were unashamed spankos and they often shared a certain political outlook.

“Why don’t you go online and find out about those guys? You could search for details of people with whom they associate. If any of those are of an age with which you feel comfortable, and don’t live too far from you, see if you can make what would appear to be innocent contact with them?”

“You might meet men looking out for a willing bum to spank! You will need to be very cautious, but these could be men with a lot to lose if you talked, and it may make them act carefully.”

Liz stared at me!

“I hadn’t thought of that!”

“It’s something I might have tried if I hadn’t got lucky!”

“You got lucky?”

“Yes. My boyfriend is up for it, and we had a lovely session recently. We got sore bums plus the usual ‘extras’!”

“OK, I will start looking at the internet. It sounds like whoever might be up for it would be authoritarian and maybe wealthy. That gives me some pointers.”

“Good luck with it and please, talk to me again. It’s nice to have someone else to talk to about my little kink!”

Liz laughed.

Jim and I carried on. We made a leather flogger out of lengths of round section thin leather cords. It stung like a million bees, but didn’t cause bruising. There are many spanking sites on the internet where we search for ideas, of which there were gazillions! A suggestion we liked was around the matter of ‘spanking posture’ and areas to spank and how hard. The head down, bottom-up position with legs apart allows the lower cheeks of the buttocks to be ‘spanked’ separately, which is exquisitely painful, both during the spanking and later when sitting on the marks.

A few weeks later, Liz approached me again. She had found someone and was trying to assess his character and inclinations. She wondered if her new friend was good at putting on an act for her.

I asked, “How have you behaved towards him? Have you ever let him down at all, been late for a meeting, argued with him, etcetera?”

“No. It’s been fine, but I think his behaviour is often ‘planned’ or ‘stereotyped.’”

“OK. It’s time to try something. Take him out of his comfort zone. Can you mess him around and see how he reacts? Do it once only to start with and make it a ‘bad enough’ offence for him to register it as such. Like, be fifteen minutes late for something and when he calls your mobile, don’t immediately answer it but wait two minutes, then call him back. See how he handles it?”

“Yes. That’s brilliant advice. Thank you.”

I found talking to Liz about her problems to be stimulating. The next Friday, I got our bedroom ready for another session. Earlier in the week, I had discussed it with Jim enthusiastically. I thought I would ‘play him up’ when he got home and pretend I had changed my mind (I hadn’t!) and see how he reacted.

So I did just that. He said, “I thought caning was doing you a lot of good, and now you are unpredictable. Is something wrong, please?”

He didn’t lose his rag, but just acted surprised. That’s acceptable!

I stopped straight away and said, “Jim, I was being very naughty and trying it on because I wanted to see how you would react! I need a hard caning, please!”

“You usually cane me first. Today, we will do it the other way around. Do you want a warm-up hand spanking first?”

“No. I’ve been naughty. Give me six hard strokes with the medium cane, no warm-up first, and don’t hold back, please.”

He smiled and said, “As you wish.”

I got out of my shorts and panties and knelt on the bed, head down, bum up, The cane touched my bum. There was a loud whistle in the air, and then ‘crack,’ a hard stroke crashed across both cheeks. It was so painful without the usual warm-up, but I had been naughty. Perhaps Jim thought I needed to be taught a lesson!

I yelped and wriggled about.

“Ready.”

Another hard stroke landed. It was good to be reminded to be thankful for my latter treatment at the reform school and for Jim’s kind and respectful attitude, after a rocky start. I took the six strokes without rubbing my flaming bum and without requesting a pause. At the finish, I lay on the bed, rubbing at my bum.

When I looked around, Jim was naked with a raging hard-on. The awful pain of the cane impact reduced within a few minutes to a throbbing sensation in my whole pelvic area and pussy.

“Give it to me doggy fashion, please.”

I got up on my knees again, ready for him.

He got on board and screwed me to a wonderful climax in under a minute. When he rubbed against the cane marks, it made me so horny. I had two orgasms before Jim came. He could hang on inside me for a while, which made things even better.

“Jim, do you want a caning or anything, please?”

“Can I go down on you please, if you don’t mind? Why don’t we have a session until we have satisfied ourselves and then think about what we might do next?”

“I will clean up in the shower first, and then we can have fun.”

We had a great session of oral, which I always respond to best with a sore bum igniting fires in my pelvic area! Jim rubbed Aloe Vera ointment into my cane marks. It hurt, but it would speed up the process of reducing the swelling, etc.

As we lay together, I let Jim know about Liz, and how I was advising her how to go about finding a partner to spank and, hopefully, to cane her. This surprised him, but he said, “She has found the right person to ask for help!”

We had started our session before seven pm, and by now it was nine pm.

Jim asked, “Do you feel up to going to the pub for a drink?”

“Why don’t we try the new wine bar? They are doing a special deal for their first two weeks of trading, and tomorrow is the last night for the offer and they are likely to be rammed. If we go tonight, we may get a seat, and I love sitting in a public place on my freshly caned bum. I enjoy watching the crowd while I give myself an orgasm! I just have to be careful not to leave a damp patch on the chair!”

“You are the way you are, and I’m not shocked, my love. Truly, did you ever leave a damp patch on a chair?”

“Yes, I did once at college when I was a little bored. My panties were in contact with the wooden chair and I gave myself an orgasm. I had to get a tissue and wipe the chair, taking care not to let anyone see!”

“You are a naughty girl! I must cane you again for that, but not tonight! Let’s get ready and go!”

It was about a ten-minute walk to the wine bar. When we arrived, who should be there but Liz with a very upmarket-looking guy? Liz came over and asked us to meet Sebastian. He was a real charmer and looked like ‘money.’ Liz might be in with a good chance of receiving a caning! Liz went to the loo, and I followed. I left Jim talking to Sebastian.

Liz said, “I made him wait for twenty minutes for me. He took it well. At first, he looked disapprovingly at me. I have been submissive to him all evening.”

“You are naughty for being late, and then he smiled.”

“What do you do to naughty girlfriends that make you late?”

“There are ways and means of helping you improve your punctuality,” and he grinned.

“I can’t wait to see what those ways and means are. He went to a public school, and you know what that might mean!”

I told her I had just had ‘six-of-the-best’ and wished her luck. I said if it came to a caning, to accept only what she could handle, and not to let him take her too far past her limits. We went back to our men, who were in a pleasant conversation. A table for four became available, and we sat down. I deliberately winced as I sat down, and Sebastian noticed.

“Are you OK?”

“Yes, I asked for a sore bum earlier tonight because I had been a naughty girl.”

Sebastian laughed like anything.

“That’s the way. There are too many softies around these days.”

Jim smiled, but said nothing!

Liz looked radiant and went a little pink. I wondered if there would be a second sore bum that day!

Jim and I went home. He inspected the marks on my bum.

“I’m sorry, but I caned you very hard. It must have hurt terribly.”

“It did, but I needed it. I’m so grateful for the efforts of the reform school, and that we are together and happy.”

I kissed Jim.

“You are so wonderful these days. We have grown up and value each other. I have to let you cane me because I need it to show how much I love and respect you, Jim.”

“You don’t need to do that, Anna.”

“I won’t ask for it every week, but I need it now and again.”

“That’s how I feel. I don’t want it tonight, but it won’t be long before I ask you to give me a sore bum.”

“What did you think of Sebastian?”

“He’s fine. He’s a lawyer in a big city firm. The high life in the city gets him down, and he comes here to get away from the worst of its excesses. I’m sure Liz will get a sore bum any time she wants one. Liz can deal with him OK. I expect she will tell you how it went next week.”

“Jim, would you like a blowjob? You have been such a good boy, you deserve one.”

“I feel guilty about caning you so hard. Give me six of the best first, and then when my hard-on comes back afterwards, I will be ready.”

Jim disappeared into the bathroom to freshen up. He came back stark naked with a boner and got on the bed, bum up, head down.

“As hard as you can please with the medium cane.”

I cracked home six good ones as hard as I could. I had never done that before, and the stripes on Jim’s bum were purple and likely to turn black! He yelled loudly during the caning, like he had never done before.

“Oh wow, I deserve it for what I did to you, my love.”

His boner had shrunk, but as I played with his dick and massaged his balls, it grew back to its previous proportions and rigidity. He quickly sat on the chair in the bedroom.

“It doesn’t hurt so much to sit on it and the sensations are wonderful.”

He lay on the bed, and I went down on him. He came in less than two minutes. We spent most of the weekend renovating the upstairs bedrooms in the house. I felt very naughty on Sunday afternoon. I had been drinking water and coffee all day and put off going for a pee. When I was bursting, I went to the bathroom and sat on the loo, naked from the waist down..

“Jim, please, I want to show you something.”

He came to the bathroom, and I was sitting there, legs apart. I put a hand down and opened my inner lips.

“Wouldn’t you like to see close up what happened when I was on the reform school stage?”

Jim looked shocked and I let rip. It poured out of me just as it had done that evening in the reform school. Jim looked a little embarrassed.

“Celia said you peed just like an animal, which is what she thought of you. She had no sorry feeling about what you were suffering and didn’t care. That’s a sign of an evil character and was the main reason I dropped her. She had no compassion. After I dropped her, I didn’t get serious with another girl until you got back here. I had been going out on and off with the girl, but it was clear you weren’t mad at me and it looked like we could get back together. I was so relieved.”

“That creature Celia could do with a thirty-six stroke caning, tied up and given hard and fast with the judicial cane.”

I laughed like anything!

“Maybe we could kidnap her, take her to a remote spot, and beat the hell out of her ass!”

A flight of fantasy!

We were happy, sexually replete and tired! The work we had done over the weekend brought the completion of the project closer, so we relaxed in the evening.

On the following Tuesday evening, Liz sought me out at the college after classes.

She looked radiant.

“How about a drink?” she asked.

Never one to refuse, we went to a pub near the college. Jim was picking me up after college, so I texted him and asked him to give me half an hour, as I was with Liz in the pub. Jim came early and when he arrived, I had to ask him politely to let Liz and me have our girly chat! He took it well!

“How did it go?” I asked all ears.

“It went so well. We went back to his flat. He poured me a large gin and tonic and talked to me. He explained he had been waiting for my ‘security clearance’ to be granted. His work involves things he can’t talk about, and any long-term relationship attracts the attention of the authorities. I had to be ‘cleared’ before things became ‘serious’ and he had received the news only two days before that I had passed clearance.”

“He hoped this delay did not annoy me, because he had little choice in the matter, other than to resign his position, which was very well paid. It did not annoy me, because he explained it in such a gentlemanly way.”

“He said your friend Anna mentioned she had got a ‘sore bottom’ earlier tonight, and I noticed your reaction. Would you like to receive a sore bottom, Liz?”

"I blushed to the roots, and I whispered, yes, please.”

Liz paused.

“Sebastian gave me a bigger shock. He told me that at public school they had caned him, and he missed it. Would I cane him, please? He could teach me how to do it. I got such a surprise, I nearly wet myself and my pussy was doing somersaults at the thought of it.”

“I was in one of his reclining leather chairs with the gin in my hand. He came over, took the gin out of my hand and helped me over to his big leather sofa, where he cradled me in his arms.”

“Your behaviour makes me think that you have received a sore bottom already in your life, please, Liz?”

“Yes, my mother caned me a few times, so I know what it is about and as I grew older, it turned me on. But it always hurt and I felt humiliated, and a little scared.”

“You don’t need to feel humiliated with me, and please, tell me if I scare you. This is about eroticism and fulfilment.”

“I snuggled up to him and told him I would not feel humiliated because it would be a loving, sexual thing between us and he didn’t scare me, but I was apprehensive about how we would do things.”

“He asked me how I would feel about caning him first.”

“Please, Sebastian, can you teach me how to do it? It must be easy to screw up and hit you in the wrong place, etc.”

“Of course. Let us prepare by showering and I will teach you how to go about it. Please, would you mind doing it naked, because it’s such an enormous turn-on for me?”

“We showered, and Sebastian came into the bedroom. He opened a cupboard and got out three canes. One was small, less than two feet long, and very thin. The second one was longer and about as thick as a pencil. It looked very much like my mother’s cane. The third one was a little longer and thicker. He placed a pillow on the corner of the bed and took hold of the third cane.”

“Sebastian began, ‘Imagine that’s my bottom. Stand off to one side. If you are right-handed, it will be to the left. Touch the pillow with the cane to get your aim and then bring the cane back and swing it forwards onto the pillow with plenty of wrist action.’”

“He carried out a few strokes like this. My pussy was jumping in anticipation of doing it, which surprised me. I was getting turned on by watching the demonstration of pillow caning! Then he handed me the cane, and I tried to copy his actions. He advised about not holding the cane too far across the pillow because it swings out when you deliver the stroke and would wrap around the bottom, which is very painful indeed. That’s not the point of the exercise.”

“He knelt on the end of the bed, head down and bottom-up and said, ‘Please give me six strokes across the fat part of my bottom. Don’t cane me too high, and I mean anywhere near my tailbone or spine. For now, try to stay above the crease where my thighs start and my bum ends. Keep the strokes on the fat part. OK, please, try it.’ I aimed and gave him the first stroke.”

“He laughed and said please cane me. Don’t just tickle me.”

“I gave him the second stroke, and the cane swung out a little too far. So I corrected my aim for the third stroke by moving away a few inches. The first two strokes left hardly any marks. So I increased the force. The cane started whistling in the air and landed with a ‘crack’ on his bottom. I finished the six strokes as requested. He looked around, smiling, and said, ‘Give me six more and with at least twice the force. I’m used to it and I can handle and need a hard caning, please!’”

“There was nothing for it but to do as he asked. My pussy was shaking, and I was close to orgasm, which was incredible. If I used more force, it would be through increasing the speed of the cane, and this meant I must move out a little further. When in position, I asked, ‘Are you ready?’ Sebastian nodded, so I swung him a much harder stroke.”

“This time, he gave a little gasp and said, ‘Harder still, please.’ I swung him what I thought was a stroke hard enough to cut him in half. He gave a louder gasp. The mark started as a grey line which rapidly changed to a deep purple colour.”

“I was ever closer to orgasm, but carried on. At the fourth stroke of this second set of six, my orgasm began, and I had to rest on my elbows on the bed next to him.”

“Sebastian, I have to stop while my orgasm is so strong, and I am dripping for the first time.”

This was amazing! It was going so well, far better than I had dared to think!

“Sebastian said, ‘Don’t worry. Take your time, but when you are ready, please try to give me the last two strokes.’”

As I slowly calmed myself, I got back into position and gave him the last two strokes as my orgasm returned. After the twelfth stroke, Sebastian stood up. Cane stripes which were purple in the centre with two deep red tram-line marks on each side covered his bottom. They must be so painful. He was rubbing his bottom, and he had an enormous erection, but he was smiling.

“Liz. You are a naughty little girl. Do you know what daddy does to his naughty little girl?”

I went along with it and said, “No, daddy, what does he do, please?”

“He canes her naughty little bottom until she is sore and sorry. But perhaps her spanking over daddy’s knee will be her first reward.”

The thought of going over his knee for a caning had not occurred to me. My pussy was in a frenzy just thinking about it. The role-play thing was so lovely.

“She will have another reward when daddy takes care of her hot little bottie afterwards.”

“Oh, daddy, please don’t cane me too hard.”

“You will feel better if I treat you like my naughty little daughter and cane you over my knee.”

Sebastian placed two chairs beside the bed. He sat on one and put his lower legs up on the other.

“Get over my lap and rest your head and shoulders on the bed.”

He put a bath towel over his lap and spread it out of the carpet where my legs hung down.

I thought, “He’s done that to catch any drips.”

I was soaking, and it was running down the inside of my thighs. That had never happened before. His hand rubbed my unspanked bottie for the first time as I lay over his knee, and my pussy was in ecstasy. The position over his knee was so erotic and intimate. The moment my spanking began, I would be on cloud nine. I had felt nothing like this when my mother caned me. Sebastian knew how to draw things out erotically.

“Liz, you are a naughty little girl. What do you deserve, please?”

“Daddy, I deserve a good caning. It will teach me to be an obedient girl.”

“How many strokes would you like, please?”

“Daddy, that’s up to you, but don’t do it more than I can bear, and please, take care of me afterwards. I’m such a naughty girl. I deserve a thrashing, and I can’t wait.”

“You deserve a warm-up,” and Sebastian began a slow hand-spanking, with an increasing tempo. It hurt, but it was wonderful. My bum started glowing hot and the magic feeling of intimacy increased.

After about two minutes, he stopped and picked up a thin cane.

“Are you ready, my love?”

I couldn’t speak, and so I just nodded.

“‘Tap-tap, crack, ’and I received my first cane stroke for two years. It gave me a lovely hot sting. Let this continue! More of these hot stings arrived at an interval of fifteen seconds, I estimated. A glorious, hot erotic stinging sensation spread over my bottom and I was ‘floating in sub-space.’ My pussy was running like a river in the throes of multiple orgasms. It’s a good thing that breathing is automatic, or I think I would have stopped.”

“At a certain moment, the sting felt harder and the ‘crack’ sound was louder. There were (now I know) six of these harder strokes. After the last of these, the caning stopped and his hand rubbed my bottom again. The caning was over and I was desperate for sex. I stood up, moved a chair out of the way and lay on the bed on my back.”

“Please, love, do it now.”

“He entered me with a thing that felt like an iron rod being rammed into my pussy. I wrapped my arms around him and smothered him in kisses. The feeling in my pussy was beyond words. He exploded inside me and I dug my nails into his back, wrapping my legs around him in pure ecstasy. Tears of ecstasy and slight pain formed in my eyes and I was too weak to move.”

“Sebastian stayed hard inside me, his dick still pulsing a little. It was heavenly. My slowly decreasing orgasm and the caning afterglow in my bum combined into the heavenliest sensation. “

“He said, ‘Thank goodness we met. You are a lovely, natural girl. Girls like you, who come from a normal background, who work and improve their qualifications, are the backbone of the country. You are aware of your sexuality and have worked out a safe way to broaden your sexual horizons. I knew you had come looking for someone like me, not for my financial status, but as the dominant part of a relationship.’”

“I love you for it. You have an innate intelligence that you use to your advantage, and I love that. You don’t flaunt it and you don’t rush me. Liz, we need to stay together, my love.”

“I burst into tears and buried my head in his lap. He comforted me and my happiness was complete. Things couldn’t be better!”

Liz said, “Thank you so much. I cannot repay for your help, and I thought of you while it was going on.”

“You don’t have to repay me. Talking about your sexual adventures makes me feel so horny. That’s payment in itself. Please don’t think about it. It’s wonderful to see you happy with Sebastian. If one day he is away for an extended time and you need a caning, I can oblige.”

I would enjoy doing it!

Liz laughed like anything and said, “Thank you, and I will keep that in mind! I wouldn’t ask my mum! But I should be grateful to her because she accidentally showed me one side of my sexuality.”

As I sat there, involved in all this, my pussy was in motion. I had to go home and get Jim to give me a good seeing-to. She smiled and took my hand. I saw little tears in her eyes. Liz lived on our way home, so I offered her a lift, which she accepted. Jim was finishing his pint and saw us get up. We went out to the car, left the pub, dropped off Liz, and went home.

“Please, I need a sore bum and a good seeing-to after talking with Liz.”

“So Liz is happy?”

“Beyond her wildest dreams, I would say. It’s a case of sore bums and good sex all around.”

You can imagine what happened when we arrived home. The next morning, I was sore inside and outside!