Excerpt: Explicit

"I am going to spank you. First, with my open hand, probably for about ten minutes, and then we'll see. Please use the safe word if necessary."

He punctuated the last word with the first whack. A body tremor resonated in perfect synchronicity with the contact of his palm. After a few slaps, the skin of my arse began tingling, a warm glow spreading, lush and sensual, sexual excitement built a little. Unembarrassed, I'm far too experienced for shame, I gave myself over to the joy of the beating, which he delivered expertly, and deliciously. I am all a quiver simply typing these words.

"I shall warm you a little more now, Cherie, in preparation for the paddle, which I'm told you are familiar with."

"Yes," I gasped.

A paddle, particularly the large, heavy type that Roy wielded brings me immense pleasure, and when he brought it down four or five times onto my bare skin, I was ecstatic. Between each thwack, he massaged my glowing cheeks. This served to heighten the molten stream coursing through my entire body, and I knew then that I would repay Brendan for his kindness with the fuck of a lifetime on his return.

The noise of the paddle was sexy, almost as sexy as the noise of my disciplinarian's hand as he brought the implement down onto my arse deploying at least twenty strokes. I stopped counting after eleven, and simply gave myself over to ardour, enthralled as tongues of fire licked around me, settling in flames on each downward flight.

By the time Roy reached for the small cane, I was on the verge of orgasm. I knew that I was going to come, and decided to keep quiet, hoping my climax would wash over me amid the thorns divinely delivered by the cane.

Each swish made contact with my inflamed skin. He brought the cane down onto me with soft strokes at first, increasing the pace with each perfect beat until I felt my orgasm ripple through my whole body, rapturously curling my toes as erotic fever overwhelmed me.

Stoic Roy said nothing, gently massaging the hurt away, preparing for the next part of the session. By that time, the cheeks of my arse radiated heat, engulfing me, but I wanted more. My cunt a vacuum. I wished there was someone, anyone, to force me onto all fours, fill the void and fuck me rapidly from behind, before giving me back over to Roy for further punishment.

"Please stand, Cherie," he ordered.

Rising, he fetched a cushion, gesturing that I bend over with the buffer between me and the top of the chair, my arse raised nicely into the air.

 

Excerpt: Tame

"Please remain in position. Your husband assures me that you have a penchant for chastisement. My parting gift to you this day is a little lesson with the strap. If you enjoy yourself and wish to make further appointments, it will be my pleasure to be of service."

His words ticked softly, I turned my head a little, watched him take up the strap, a wisp of sensation as he placed the leather across my flaming cheeks as a marker.

"I shall give you thirty strokes, please keep still. Use the safe word at any time, and I will cease. Otherwise, you shall have thirty strokes, without respite."

My stomach seemed to rise to my throat. My guts liquefied. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I lifted my chin a little, my thighs soaked with the evidence of desire as my arse burned, and I knew that livid stripes and patches stained the pale skin of my cheeks.

"If you move between strokes, it will void the thirty lashes, and I will start counting again from 'one'. Please understand that I shall give you thirty lashes, and each stroke must be perfect and consecutive. You must carefully count each stroke aloud. The discomfort will be less acute if you relax."

Contrary muscles froze, I braced myself.

He brought the strap down.

"One, argh."

Striking again immediately, the sting of the belt catapulted my senses, screaming cells and the pungent smell of excitement mocked and mingled with the faint masculine aroma of leather.