"And who are your masters, Annabel?"

"Principally you, sir. But all men are masters of all women and I serve whoever you want me to."

"Good. And have you been obedient today?"

"Yes, sir. I hope so."

"Then you will of course obey me if I tell you to accept a punishment from Mr Hodson here."

Annabel looked up suddenly, her eyes bright and sparkling. "Of course, sir. And I hope he will enjoy delivering it as much as I will receiving it."

"What implement would you like to use on her?" The Patriarch turned his dark eyes on Charles's disbelieving face.

He stuttered and stumbled over his words, aware that this beautifully dressed woman was offering herself to have pain inflicted on her purely because the Patriarch was telling her to. It was barbaric. Insane.

And yet he realised that at the thought of the domination he was seeing in action, there was a tightness at the front of his suit trousers.

"On second thoughts, perhaps that is hurrying things along a little. I will administer the discipline. You, Charles, watch and learn how a woman should truly behave."

He tapped the surface of the dining table which stood beside them and without hesitation Annabel laid her upper body on it and spread her arms out to grip the edges. Then, quite calmly, the Patriarch bent and grasped the hem of her dress and pulled the skirt up onto her waist at the back, bunching it in front of her against the table. Charles gazed in awestruck lust at the revealed length of satin smooth thigh and the way her thong only just contained the plump-lipped bulge of her vulva below the achingly lovely cushions of soft buttock flesh.

"A hand spanking is wasted on a woman of Annabel's experience. She has been schooled to harder things than that. Harder and much more pleasurable for her masters."

Charles's mouth had gone dry and the tightness in his trousers was almost painful as he watched the Patriarch saunter over to the far side of the room and reach behind a chair to retrieve a cane. It was about four feet long and very thin and whippy. As he came back the Patriarch deliberately swished it in the air and then bent it nearly double so the woman on the table could fully take in what was about to be done to her. He could see she was watching but was making no move whatever to escape.

"Would you hold her waist and put some weight on her lower back please. However dedicated, they all tend to jump about a bit under the cane and it can dislodge the skirt as well as making aiming difficult."

Before he was fully aware of it, Charles had moved forwards and his shaking hands were gripping the slender warmth of a very real female body about to be caned. It was terrible, he knew he should be outraged, disgusted. But he felt his iron hard erection just touch the naked thigh as he settled some of his weight on her and knew he couldn't wait to see what a caned female bottom looked like. He looked down at the broad sweep of the two hemispheres, bisected by the thin line of the thong and knew he would never make it back to London before he absolutely had to orgasm.

Thwick!

It was so quick he hardly had time to register it. The cane seemed to blur as it cut the air, then there was the most exciting sound he had ever heard. It was the sound of thin rattan slicing into naked, submissive girlflesh. Beneath him he felt Annabel heave and her head jerked up. The Patriarch looked at him.

"Ask her if she wants it to stop," he suggested, plainly seeing the warring excitement and unease in Charles.

"Er....do....do.....do you want to get up now?" he asked rather lamely.

"Only if you don't want to cane me any more, sir," came the reply.

The Patriarch arched an eyebrow interrogatively.

Charles looked down and saw two sets of lines carved onto the soft flesh, one set on each buttock. Like tramlines they ran straight and double where the cane had bitten in.

"No...no," he almost croaked through his dry throat. "I don't want to stop."

Thwick!

This time he saw it, saw the shaft whirr through the air and then land. The buttocks flattened at the point of impact and then a ripple ran through the whole of both soft mounds. And as he continued to watch, as if by magic he saw the flesh ridge up either side of the strike and a small rough crater appear where the end of the shaft had dug in.

The Patriarch moved to one side slightly and rested the cane against Annabel's bottom. Beneath him, Charles could feel her panting but suddenly his perspective had shifted. He wasn't bothered about her any more. She had had a chance to cry off and hadn't. Now he was desperate for more of what he had just seen.

"Hold her now. I'm going to cross the first two welts and that usually produces strong results."

Beneath Charles, Annabel tensed.

Thwick!

"Aah!" Annabel couldn't restrain the yelp and Charles had to lean down heavily to keep her in place. On her bottom the new tramlines were blossoming and where they crossed the old ones Charles could almost see the skin pulsing.

"That's a very quick way to draw blood," the Patriarch said. "But such is not the purpose today."

He swung the cane in again, slightly harder but across the lower slopes of the buttocks. Annabel jumped hard again but held her tongue. The Patriarch pointed out to the by-now captivated Charles how a harder stroke produced a longer tramline.

"One can decorate them as one pleases," Charles was told and they shared a laugh before the Patriarch swung in three more hard strikes in quick succession. Annabel almost threw Charles off as her bucking increased with each stroke.

"Stand up and rub for a minute," the Patriarch told her. "Then Mr Hodson will take over."

Annabel stood up stiffly and began to rub her stinging bottom vigorously, her fingers exploring the ridges and marks, her head craning round to try and see. The Patriarch handed Charles the cane and Annabel glanced up as she saw the exchange and a shy little smile played on her lips as, without being ordered she settled herself once more.

The skirt of her dress needed lifting again and Charles did it himself this time, his hands steadier but thrilling to the feel of her warm, smooth skin.

He delivered six more strokes. With advice from the Patriarch he took his time and spaced them out carefully for aesthetic effect, only driving the final strike across her other welts and fetching a vigorous bucking movement from her and a strangled, gulping noise as her eyes watered and ran at the depth of the stinging.

The two men examined their handiwork as Annabel stayed where she was, gasping and panting.

"Neatly done!" the Patriarch commented. "You show great promise. Now let me show you the icing on the cake." Approaching the woman he tore her thong down until it stretched in a thin line across the tops of her thighs and Charles couldn't believe what he was seeing. Her revealed cunt was open and the lips plainly engorged, her inner ones blooming in coral-like petals to frame the inviting hole of the vagina.

"Go on, feel her," the Patriarch told him.

Slowly Charles reached out and entered her with one finger. Sure enough it slid in with no problem, she was weeping juices and her vagina was hot and clutching.

"But..." Charles started to say, withdrawing his finger.

"The pain is quite real," the Patriarch forestalled him. "She felt the cane believe me but a proper woman - a properly trained woman - can turn the pain into quite real pleasure. Now, I've got a few things I must sort out so I'll leave you for a few minutes," he smiled at Charles. "You won't be disturbed."

Once the door closed behind him, Annabel slowly lifted herself from the table, reached up to her neck, unfastened the clasp at the halter of her dress and let it slip down her body to her feet. Charles stared at the full roundness of her breasts with their brown areolas and red, hard nipples. She bent and pulled her thong down and stepped away from it before coming so close he could feel her nipples brush his jacket. Then he felt her hand on his rampant cock.

"You need relief, sir," she whispered. "Where would you like to take it?"

Charles's eyes were riveted to her lips as she spoke and his first thought was to plunge himself into this incredible creature's mouth and fill her to choking with his spunk. But doing that would mean missing out on what had felt like a delightful cunt.

Annabel saw his indecision and stepped in. "May I suggest that you fuck me on the table first. That'll hurt my arse again and I'll fuck the better for it. After that I think you'll find I can breathe some life back into you if you want to come in my mouth or over my face."

Charles was lost in admiration; this woman was real flesh and blood and yet was every man's wet dream. She existed to give sexual pleasure.

She winced a little as she sat up on the table and then lay back, propping herself up on her elbows and lifting her feet so they rested on the edge. Her cunt was perfectly displayed and presented. Charles freed himself from the confines of his trousers and holding his length down, stepped forwards and eased himself into her. She threw her head back and growled in pleasure as she felt herself filled. Just before Charles abandoned himself to a race for the long overdue climax, he acted on a sudden impulse and drove his hands under her buttocks. She gasped as his fingers raked her marks but then she reached out for his buttocks and pulled him onto her. He dug his nails into her and she immediately began to swivel and undulate on his cock, her breasts shaking and swinging. He dug his nails in harder and she grimaced but ground herself onto him with increased fervour. Then, unable to resist the temptation any more he dragged his hands from under her and fastened them instead on the soft, quivering breasts. Annabel's head dropped back and they both began a frantic rutting. Hammering at each other they exploded into simultaneous orgasm.

Charles Hodson of HM government, suited and well groomed, roared with primitive delight in full daylight as he erupted inside the naked woman on the table.