That electrifying and yet terrifying moment just before the cane strikes. The hiss as it
slices through the air and that blissful split second before impact. When so much emotion
is felt and so many things flash through your mind with blurring rapidity. The moment when
your cock stiffens and jerks in anticipation, you strain at your bonds in a feeble effort
to escape and brace yourself. Then, the sweet kiss of the cane on your flesh as it cuts
across your backside. That searing pain that burns deep; the blinding, brilliant flash as
the agony registers in your brain and then, that seeping warm glow that spreads over your
buttocks and down between your legs. Add to all of this the beautiful young dominatrix
wielding the cane and..... 
      How did it all start? I`m not actually sure, well perhaps I am but it all seems so
long ago now and yet it is in reality, less than a year since I met her - Yolanda, girl of
my dreams, later and now, my mistress - controller of my life, of my mind and of my body.
I was then, by my own admission, boring and staid. My life was, and had been, mundane,
uneventful and little within it ever changed. I held a secure position at the bank; I
lived comfortably and had my set routines both at work and at home. I had a social
standing in the village community, was a member of all the right clubs and charity
organisations to further improve on my career and standard of living. A monotonous life I
led then, each and every day was the same - until that is, the day that she arrived in the
village.
      Yolanda is tall, nearly six feet in fact, she has jet-black hair cut straight down
the sides of her neck to rest on her shoulders. Raven black I have heard it described as
and that description perhaps better suits the slightly evil streak present within her. Her
fringe is cut harshly low across her forehead to rest on and to almost cover her eyebrows
to give her a most sensual yet sinister appearance; it frames her face as a most appealing
mask of tantalising attraction. 
      Although not Oriental, her eyes are perfect almond shapes and her deep black pupils
possess a simmering hint of naughtiness that is transmitted whenever she looks at you.
Mistress prefers to use blood-red lipstick on her full sensual lips; it makes her mouth
the focal point of her face, and a part of her I love so very much. Yolanda is thirty
years old but could be and is, taken often for a girl many years younger. Her slim and
proportionate body, her slender legs and thighs add to her youthful appearance. Her
breasts, as I know well, are firm and neat, perfectly symmetrical orbs of silky warmth
with long, jutting nipples that harden so wonderfully when aroused. She has narrow hips
and an impossibly thin waist that flares out to her breasts and hips to enhance her
perfect proportions. All of this, plus the graceful and confident manner with which she
carries herself first endeared me to her.
      From that day, the very first time I saw her in the bank I was smitten. I could
think of little else, day or night, except the gorgeous newcomer to our village. Spinster,
widow, slut and even whore, the gossips labelled her but to me she was a Goddess and
didn`t care what she was, or what they said. Beautiful and elegant, she was my fantasy
come true, I had never felt so immediately attracted to a woman before and that includes
my wife. Like a schoolboy with a crush on his teacher I longed and dreamt of her,
conjuring up imaginary situations in which she and I were together. She filled my every
thinking moment and, it seemed, began to take over my life.
      I simply needed to know more about her, the mysterious stranger, the one that I
adored, and I was in a position to do exactly that. I freely admit that I broke the bank’s
rules that day in my quest to increase my knowledge of her, the woman etched so firmly in
my mind, Mistress Yolanda.
      Yolanda! Simply reciting her name sent spears of electric sensation rippling
through me, my cock would rise to a throbbing erection as I repeated her name over and
over. The fantasies grew and on the rare occasions that I made love to my wife she became,
in my mind, Yolanda. I would be caressing her firm breasts, pinching and pulling at her
nipples whilst I planted kisses down the side of her long neck and in the cleft of her
cleavage. The wet pussy was hers, Yolanda`s, it opened readily to me, opened at my command
to welcome me into her warm and inviting body. I say command because that is how I then
imagined it would be. With me taking the traditional masculine role of man telling woman
what to do during sex, of taking control over the smitten and whimpering female. Just how
wrong I was and anyone that knows Yolanda will understand instantly that she commands, she
controls and she dictates when and just how it will be. Yolanda is in charge in all things
- always.
      I found out her address, a thatched cottage on the other side of the village and
nestling back behind high hedges at the end of a narrow lane. Dashed were my hopes of
strolling by and instigating a chance meeting. Initially I had visions of catching
glimpses of her gardening perhaps or sunbathing even, but alas it was not to be. I know
the village well and chance sightings in that lane were not to be had.
      On the second occasion that Yolanda visited the bank it was the first time that we
actually spoke, face to face with her I was, so tantalisingly close yet she remained still
a distant and unobtainable dream to me. I had arranged it to be so; using my position as
assistant manager I had instructed the staff that she was a `privileged client` and that I
would deal with all her affairs. Yes, the sniggers from the staff abounded but I weathered
them all, for my devotion was simply too profound to let idle gossip detract from my
quest.
      I recall blushing as she entered my small office, the heady scent of her perfume
preceding her lithe and elegant body. The air of command that she carries radiated over to
me as she sat and settled herself in the chair. I am still able to remember the
cock-jerking swish of nylon stocking against nylon stocking as she crossed her long legs
so sensually. The way the little black skirt rode back along her slender thigh sent my
heart racing and my cock instantly to full erection to press painfully against the insides
of my trousers. I was most fortunate to have the desk by which to disguise my arousal, in
another situation it could have, would have been, most embarrassing indeed. Those sensual
and full red lips moved in mimicry of slow and passionate oral sex, I felt a blob of
pre-lubrication squeeze out of the eyehole of my cock and I groaned inwardly in deep
longing. I wonder now, if on that day she had been aware of the effect that she had on me.
It is most probably so, for Mistress Yolanda is all knowing and all seeing, she almost
certainly would have known. The wonderful bitch would have known.
      That day it was a simple cheque account that she needed setting in place, that
along with other minor and routine matters. What struck me though was her electrifying
gaze, those deep inviting eyes that beckoned me in and down into what seemed, her very
soul. Willingly I allowed myself to be drawn, sucked in and at her command. Once the
interview was over and she had left I felt heaviness, an oppressive emptiness that
weighted not only heavily in my heart but also in my aching cock. 
      For over a week after that I did not see her. I couldn`t sleep, I found myself
walking the village at lunch times in the hope of a chance meeting or simply gaining just
a glimpse of her. I would find little reasons to pop out of the bank, false appointments
to attend so that I might get out and to try to see the woman of my dreams again. A
depression of sorts set in on me, people were asking after my health and my well being, I
even had doubts about my sanity at one stage, such was the effect that Yolanda had had on
me. 
      I used my connections with the estate agents and the telephone company; I asked the
plumber and the milkman, anyone that could provide me with the faintest glimmer of
additional information on my wonder woman. It was with great relief that I learned from
the postman that she was away for ten days only and would shortly return. My spirits rose,
I was a bouncing child-like personage again with a zest for life and an all-consuming aim
in life. I was back to my new self, the new man that had secretly sworn devotion to a
total stranger. People noticed, that I knew, I was risking all and yet, I didn`t care one
little bit.
      It was exactly ten days after the last interview that I saw her again and best of
all, she had asked to see me - and alone. `Private banking matters` she had said and had
requested a most private of interviews for the purpose. `So nice` she had said I was, `so
kind and helpful` and - I recall blushing under her compliments, my cock jerking hard as
she paused to say, `and so good-looking too.` I ruined the loans form and had to do
another under her critical gaze, I was trembling and flushed, excited and a wobbling wreck
in her presence. The climax of that meeting though was when she passed me her card and
extended the invitation to me. `A more personal meeting,` she had said. `One in which we
can be free of work restrictions and in more relaxed surroundings, a time when we can be
alone, to allow our minds to meet.` 
      I almost came in my trousers at her words. So simple and direct her words yet
loaded with scintillating sexual undertones of teasing invitation. My hand trembled I
recall as I took the offered card and nodded my agreement readily, my voice quavered as I
asked for time and date. She had given me that knowing smile, the one that showed the
white of her teeth in stark contrast to her full red lips. I watched her delicate slim
fingers grip the pen as she scribbled the information on the back of the card, stood up,
paused and then left.
      It was then, bathed and groomed - several times in fact - and in my best suit that
I set out on our first date. Golf club meeting I had told my wife, never in our years
together had I found it necessary to lie to my spouse, but now it seems a most natural
thing to do. My polished shoes and tie were checked time and again as I walked through the
village that early evening, everything had to be just so, perfect actually, for my dream
woman Yolanda. How very naïve I was, I cringe now as I look back on those times and
on that first night in particular. Like a lamb to the slaughter I walked willingly and
blissfully innocently into her clutches.
      As she opened the door to me I stood open mouthed and wide-eyed, staring at the
exposed cleavage that the plunging neckline of her little dress offered. The short hemline
and the tight clinging material as it pulled over her hips to portray the neat and trim
figure beneath. All around me paled into insignificance, and I stood spellbound, taking in
her full beauty.
      Yolanda had simply smiled knowingly and stepped back to allow me entry. I stepped
in, trance-like and in a dream world, into the den of the lioness I now call Mistress.
Mesmerised, I must have walked through to the lounge and sat on the settee but I do not
actually remember doing so, such was my detachment from my surroundings. I watched her
every graceful move as she walked, posed and then sat opposite me, my gaze dropped
instantly to the slender upper thighs beneath her short skirt. To search the creamy tops
of her inner thighs and to the tight white triangle of her panties as they pulled across
her firm mound. How wonderful the sight of the pale skin above the tops of her hold up
stockings, the dark bands that pulled around her upper thighs and that secretive darker
area in the cave her dress and legs had created. My heart missed a beat and I failed to
stifle a gasp as she crossed those long legs to offer me sight of the rear of her upper
thighs almost to her buttocks. Yolanda simply beamed one of those cock-jerking smiles and
fixed me with her entrancing gaze. It obviously delighted her to see my excitement and
discomfort at being confronted with such a blatant offering of her body. 
      Then she spoke, that rich and velvety voice, full of sexual coaxing and beckoning
coming over to me from those full and succulent red lips. Her words hit me like a steam
train, direct and in contrast to anything she had said before. The content and the tone of
them like nothing I have ever heard a woman speak before.
      "Would you like to fuck me, Robert?"
      I flushed so red that my cheeks burned hot. I wriggled uncomfortably under her gaze
to make my embarrassment all the more acute. She knew! She could read my thoughts and
leering looks and now, she had laid the challenge. I remember wringing my hands and
shifting in my seat, I simply didn`t know where to look or what to say. Her critical stare
never relented for a second and she never eased my embarrassment one bit but added to it
with her silent watching of me.
      "Yes," I admitted more as an apology than a response and she laughed
loudly at that. It was a mocking laugh, filled with a humiliating tone that made me want
to die.
      "Are you hard for me, nice man?" she teased huskily.
      All I could do was to nod shamefully in admission, the great bulge in the front of
my trousers would have belied any denial I might have given should I have tried to.
      She stood, towering over me to further exert her authority. That little skirt of
hers clung high up on her thighs and so very close to my face. I whimpered pathetically,
like a little puppy dog grateful yet fearful of its master. She extended her hand, which I
took hesitantly and stood. Like a little schoolboy I was lead by the hand into her
bedroom, totally out of my depth in the presence of such a forceful and obviously sexually
knowledgeable woman.
      She helped me, guided me and I was grateful for that. Yolanda wasn`t pushy or
demanding, at least not then she wasn`t. She had me sit on the end of the bed to watch and
began to unzip her little dress at the back. Her hips began to sway and gyrate in the
sexiest, erotic dance I had ever seen. Her feet were set apart and the thighs slightly
tensed as she thrust and rotated her hips in a whore-like teasing as she undressed. Crude
and base the movements were, yet at the same time so elegant and beautiful to watch. 
      I sat silently, transfixed as the straps of her dress slipped off her shoulders to
show a little lacy bra in black that pushed her breasts up and together to form a tight
swelling cleavage. Her otherwise naked top was now revealed to me, her flat stomach and
bare shoulders, I felt light-headed as she tantalised me by peeling the material of her
dress so painfully slowly down over her lovely body. I gasped as the dress then slipped to
the floor and looked straight between her legs to where the little white panties pulled
over the firm mound of her mons. I sighed wistfully, the dark outline of her pubic thatch
was just visible through the thin material and my mind worked overtime trying to imagine
her pussy lips beneath. The woman was even lovelier than I had first imagined, perfection,
is the description that must be applied in this case, total perfection.
      Yolanda stood before me in just her bra, black stockings and panties, smiling
broadly at my obvious excitement. She stepped close, brushing against my knee and between
my parted thighs. She was so close I could smell her mix of perfume and the musky scent of
her sex odour. I was perspiring and shaking, so much so that I could hardly resist the
urge to reach out and touch her. I tried but was halted. Her thick and low voice checked
me in a sweet yet firm manner.
      `No touching, nice man, not yet at least, good things should be savoured, made to
last so as to enjoy every last drop.` Those were her words and how I agree with them but
back then, all I wanted in this world was to touch and to feel her inviting body.
      It was so sudden, so unexpected and hurtful, confusing and more. The flat of her
hand landed a stinging slap across the side of my face that jarred my head to the side.
      "Wimp!" she raved. "You are a pathetic little wimp."
      To my eternal shame I admit that I was reduced to tears. The woman I was devoted
to, the idol that I worshipped had rejected me, or so I thought. More than that, it was
the emotional hurt, the sweetness and teasing and then the harsh words so insulting and
demeaning, and yet, through it all I felt a completeness that I have never before felt. My
cock seemed to grow in size, expanding in girth and length. It attained a hardness the
like of which I had never known. The cruel way she had treated me seemed to excite me all
the more. I was confused to say the very least but suffered shamefully as she towered over
me gloating at her actions. She was commanding and dominant, revelling in the power she
held over me and all I could do was to sit meekly there and take it all.
      "Worthless shit, doggy boy, useless little fart," and more she called me.
All manner of insults poured from her mouth but through my tears I could see her wild
excitement. Her eyes blazed and her nostrils flared and her wonderful cheeks flushed
slightly as her arousal grew. She was a wild and untamed harlot, a witch woman, devil
woman that was lost in a heady world of sexual excitement with only her own gratification
and needs to consider.
      Her mood changed again as suddenly as it had just seconds before. She was soothing
and loving again, mewing softly her contentment and her little gasps made me long even
more to come into contact with her. Yolanda`s soft and warm hand caressed my burning cheek
lovingly, she bent forward to plant a feather-light and tender kiss on my forehead before
slipping her hands up her back to release her bra strap. I gazed in wonder as the little
harness dropped away to show her perfect neat breasts in all their glory. The rosy pink
nipples stuck out firm in erection and I groaned longing as she stood offering herself for
my inspection.
      "What are you?" that velvety coaxing voice implored and I found myself
responding almost automatically.
      "A wimp," I said throatily, "A worthless piece of shit."
      "Good boy," she praised and hooked her thumbs in the side strings of her
little panties, "Now your reward."
      The thrill that I experienced at that moment superseded all before as her pubis was
revealed to me. At last I saw it, the thick dark tangle of pubic hair and those
wonderfully puffy pussy lips that I had fantasised over so many times. Naked for the first
time before me, she became more adorable and appealing by the second. 
      For many minutes she stood silently allowing me to ogle her whole body, I noted
that her breasts trembled slightly with the pounding beat of her heart as the excitement
coursed through her.
      "Now you," she said in an easy but firm tone. Yolanda sat next to me on
the bed and pointed to a spot on the floor to indicate that I should stand and strip.
      It was the most humiliating time of my entire life, I hung my head in shame as I
undressed, and each article of clothing removed brought a deeper burning red to my face.
When I reached the point of undoing my trousers my nerve failed me and Yolanda recognised
that fact.
      "Do it," she hissed threateningly through clenched teeth.
      I had no choice but to comply, I dropped my trousers and groaned inwardly as my
underpants showed clearly the state of my erection as it pressed against them. A casual
wave of her hand instructed me that my pants should follow, and I recall to this day the
deep humiliation I felt as my stiff cock bounced free of its covering.
      "Hands behind your back," she said evenly, "whilst I look at what
you have to offer."