The injustice
This story follows on from my story The Awakening which is best read first. It contains graphic description of strapping and caning. If this offends you please do not read on.
Helen.
It was August and six weeks after I had I had disciplined John for his episode of drunk driving and life had settled into a routine. Instead of him driving the car to the station and parking, I did it. Following this, on workdays, we took the eight o’clock train to Waterloo together and then went our separate ways to work before meeting up to catch the half past six train home. If I was going to work late and John caught the train before me he would take a taxi home.
To be honest, I am a nervous driver and do not enjoy it and we do not socialise quite as much as we used to. Before he lost his license John and I used to share the nominated driver role, but it became boring never being able to have a drink whilst socialising with friends.
Invariably we have seen a little more of Anne and Graham since they live no more than one hundred yards away down the narrow lane on which our houses lie. After a few bottles of wine we can wend our way, hand in hand, back home.
After our conversation which happened the evening I caught John wanking whilst watching a punishment video Anne’s curiosity had not let up. Initially she had made comments implying she was suspicious I had taken her advice and caned John, but I had said nothing. Then her questioning stopped, and I had thought she had stopped thinking about it. I was wrong.
One early Saturday evening Graham and John had not yet returned from a football match in London. It was the first Premiere league game of the season and Watford were at home to Liverpool. Anne had popped around to keep me company and we were sitting in our kitchen drinking coffee. After my second cup I needed to have a wee and excused myself and went to the toilet. When I returned Anne was nowhere to be seen.
My first thought was that she had simply gone home but then it dawned on me. She must have gone looking in the den and shouting, “Anne. Anne. Where are you?,” I ran down the stairs to the den door, switched the light on and looked inside. The room appeared empty, but I walked into the centre of the room and peered around. I was convinced Anne had decided to take a look there, but I was wrong, and I heaved a sigh of relief. The punishment trestle with its padded red leather seat stood against the wall and my strap and canes hung untouched on hooks beside it.
And then as I turned to leave the den I heard footsteps descending the stairs and Anne walked in.
“I’ve been looking for you…..” And then “Ohhhhhh Helen you bitch. I knew you’d cane him, but this is something else”….. as she looked over my shoulder at my spanking equipment.
It was useless to protest my innocence and the damage was done, I couldn’t even accuse her of spying. She had been in the lounge looking for a cookbook I had borrowed from her and which she was now carrying.
She walked past me and looked at the bench and then the leather strap and the canes.
“I see you took my advice,” she said.
“What can I say?” I replied. “Now if you’ve seen enough let’s have a glass of wine.”
“Oh…. There much more I’d like to see…” and she let her comment hanging, but I ignored her.
“And before you ask Anne. I’m not about to tell you anything. He’s my husband and what goes on between us is our business only. You’re my friend. Please let’s keep it that way.”
***
A few weeks later, one Monday morning, the builders came in to start our kitchen extension. I drove home one evening to find a skip sitting at one end of our U shaped driveway and immediately understood this would mean I would have to back out of our driveway to get back onto the lane instead of simply driving through.
Our driveway is narrow, as is the lane outside our house, and as I have explained I am a nervous driver. The following morning, when we were about to leave for the station, John reversed the car out of the drive and onto the lane and then, very gratefully, I drove to the station.
When we returned home that evening I locked the car and turned towards the front door, keys in hand. It was then that John called after me, “Give us the car keys love. I’ll turn it for you. Ready for the morning.”
And so a precedent was set. Every weekday evening when we pulled into the driveway after returning from work John reversed out into the lane and turned the car around.
It was about two weeks later that the accident happened. I didn’t see it but heard it. One evening after work I had just unlocked and gone inside the front door and was taking off my shoes. John was turning the car. Suddenly there was a loud crash outside followed by silence, and then a few seconds later the sound of excited voices.
Hurriedly I put my shoes back on and ran outside and could see that Graham’s vintage Mini had run head on into the side of our car which was sitting with the passenger’s side of the car stove in. I could hear John apologising to Anne who was standing looking at the front of her car which appeared to have a badly dented front bumper and damage to the bonnet.
“Are you both OK,” I shouted across to them.
“I’m OK,” said John.
“And so am I. I think,” said Anne angrily.
“What the hell were you doing David? You backed out into the lane without looking. Are you even meant to be in a car on the public highway?”
“I didn’t see you. The hedge was in the way.”
“I don’t care! You’re to blame! Fuck! What’s Graham going to say? This is his pride and joy.”
I could see how upset how Anne was, so I stepped in to try to calm things down.
“Don’t worry Anne. The important thing is nobody’s hurt. The cars can be repaired. Now,.. Is Graham about?”
“No. He’s away for a couple of days on business.”
“Were you going anywhere important?”
“Just for some bread, milk, and eggs from the local store.”
“OK. Then put your car back in your garage. I’m sure we’ve got some bread in the freezer and I know we’ve got some long life milk… and I can spare you half a dozen eggs. I’ll bring them around in ten minutes.”
***
We sat together. Anne had already finished her first glass of gin and tonic, poured herself another large glass and gave me one.
“I’ve been thinking Helen. Do we need to inform the police? If John was driving you won’t be insured because he’s been disqualified. I can claim for the damage to Graham’s car on his policy. Its fully comprehensive with no claim discount insurance so he won’t lose out. Trouble is they may need an accident report or at least my dashcam recording. And that means you can’t claim you were driving to claim on your insurance. I’m afraid whatever happens you’ll have to pay for your own repairs.””
I thought quickly and replied. “We can’t tell the police. John will be arrested. Technically he was driving whilst disqualified and would incur a criminal record and I’d rather the dashcam footage wasn’t seen by the insurance company. We’ll pay for all of the damage to both cars.” I paused…” If that’s alright with you?”
“If you are sure you want to do that I guess that’s fine. I’m sorry it’s going to cost you but if it keeps John out of trouble I don’t see why not.”
At the time I remember feeling grateful, but I shouldn’t have been.
***
The following day both of the cars went for repair. We used taxis to get to and from the station each morning and evening.
I didn’t see Anne until three days later. It was Thursday evening and John had gone to play table tennis when I saw her again. The front door rang and when I answered it she was standing there…and wearing a neck brace.
I showed her into the lounge and switched off the television then offered her a cup of coffee.
“I’d rather not thank you,” she said rather stiffly. Before I could enquire further she continued. “I’ve got whiplash. The GP told me it often happens after this kind of crash, and it will need a collar and anti-inflammatory drugs for a few weeks and some physio but no lasting damage…. Just pain and inconvenience.”
I could tell she was quite angry and decided to wait to see what else she had to say. In a cold voice she continued.
“My first instinct is to sue him. But he’s not insured, and it won’t be worth my while. Suing him will not result in significant damages being awarded to me and will hurt both you and John together since you’ll have to pay. That would not be fair to you, and I don’t want that. You are my friend. But I want him punished for what he’s done to me. I plan to go to the police and report him or……. he can suffer pain with no lasting damage just as I am…… He has a choice. He can receive a severe judicial thrashing on his bare buttocks whilst tied naked across that trestle or I will report him. We can discuss the details if he accepts my offer. Can you let me know tomorrow. When you do I can let you know what the bill for the car repair is.”
A few minutes later she was gone, and I sat alone in the lounge waiting for John to return, to tell him what had happened, and to give him the choices Anne had offered. I already knew what he would say.
I thought I had known Anne but obviously I had been mistaken. I wondered at my apparent ability to be surprised by people. I had not known John was a masochist, and now that Anne was a devious and rather nasty sadist.
***
The following evening I gave her his answer. She smiled. “These are my conditions. Twenty four strokes of the punishment cane. I will watch. You can punish him… or if you don’t feel capable of hitting him hard enough we can find a dominatrix to do it. We don’t have to tell her why he’s being punished. But If you cane him you’d better make sure you hit him hard enough. I want to watch him suffer.”
I had started to dislike Anne immediately after her ultimatum the previous evening. It was blackmail pure and simple. I also knew that if I fought with her over the punishment it would be worse for John. Don’t misunderstand me… I have given John some very severe discipline which both he and I welcomed because he deserved it. This was different and I wanted to assuage hers and my treatment of him. I pretended to act conspiratorially.
“You’re right Anne,” I said. He’s due a sound caning anyway. I’d recommend twenty four strokes of my leather punishment strap first. It hurts like hell, and he’ll mark up lovely before the cane.
Anne was only too happy with my suggestion. She thought I was making his punishment more severe. I knew it was a small mercy and would warm him up prior to the cane strokes.
“And we don’t need a dominatrix. I have become very proficient.”
“Excellent,” she said. “Today’s Friday. How about a week tonight? Grahams away again. Say ten pm before bed. Give him time to think about it and recover for work Monday. I’ll be around at around nine to have a drink first if that’s OK?”
“That’s fine,” I said. “But bring your dashcam with you.”
***
Next Friday evening arrived. We ate a light supper and at eight o’clock John went for a bath and changed into jockey shorts and a tee shirt. I had offered to oil the strap, not wanting to stick to our routine prior to discipline, but he refused and had spent half an hour the previous evening rubbing oil into the dark leather strap.
“My job,” he said.
It now sat gleaming on the red leather seat alongside a 32 inch long Rattan cane I had selected as suitable for the task.
Promptly at nine o’clock the doorbell rang and as I went to answer it John went downstairs to the den. I showed Anne into the lounge. She was no longer wearing the neck brace, was fully made-up, and was wearing a low cut red midi dress. She was carrying a handbag and a long cloth bag. I felt underdressed in my white tennis dress and tank top. She sat as I prepared us each the customary G and T.
She handed me the bag. “I don’t think you have one of these,” she said. “It’s a present for both of you. I don’t expect any thanks from John.”
I put my hand inside and pulled out a yard long ochre coloured and heavy cane. It had a black leather handle and it looked fearsome.
“Sixteen mm Tohiti,” she said.
“Thank you but I’m not giving him twenty four with this,” I said. “The last twelve only.”
Anne took a sip of her drink. “That will do nicely,” she said.
***
Just before ten o’clock we entered the den. John was sitting in the leather sofa with his back to us and turned his head as we entered. The heavy punishment trestle sat in the middle of the room.
“Good evening John,” said Anne. “I’ve come to see you punished. Does he know what he’s getting? Please tell him Helen. Show him the Tohiti.”
As I showed him the heavy cane his eyes widened for just a moment. Then I asked him to strip, and he did as he was told. He is tall with a flat stomach and well developed, broad, and well-muscled bum cheeks. As he stood in front of us I saw Anne admiring him Her eyes shone, her face was flushed, and her lips were moist. It was obvious this was an exceptionally sexual experience for her.
Then in front of our eyes and under her unwavering gaze his penis started to slowly grow until it was fully swollen, rigid, and erect.
He lay over the trestle immobilised by bindings around his wrists, ankles, thighs, and across his back. I deliberately left the strap across his back a little loose so that he could move and wriggle under the strap. This was not for his benefit but for mine. I had discovered that the more he struggled the more turned on I became and the harder I wanted to hit him.
I had asked Anne where she wanted to sit, and she had taken an old wooden kitchen stool from the corner of the den and placed it a couple of feet from the end of the trestle and sat with her face only a few inches in front of John’s.
“I want to see him suffer, and I can watch you work from here and see his bottom in the mirror.
I had worried I would not be able to punish him as severely as Anne wanted but now I knew I both could and would. He was always hard shortly after I finished with him. but never before. This time he had hardened under Anne’s gaze. I didn’t know exactly why he had developed the erection. She was fanciable enough, but I didn’t think it was that alone. It was obvious that the thought of being disciplined naked across his bare ass by me with Anne watching had turned him on. He was psychologically ready for what I was going to do to him.
I took the strap in my right hand and spoke. “Prepare yourself.” Then I brought the strap down across the centre of his nates and there was a loud slap and at the point of contact a pinkening appeared. He made no sound, but I saw Annes smile, and her lips moved. I waited twenty seconds and delivered the second stroke and still he made no sound. The third stroke brought the first signs of pain when his bum jerked and on the fourth stroke I heard him groan and his bum started to wriggle. It was then I saw Annes smile and once again her lips moved. It was at that stage that I realised she was talking to him as he was being punished.
I was infuriated. The way she was smiling at him and whispering to him seemed so intimate. It was almost as if she was making love to him in front of my eyes. In that moment I really wanted him to suffer.
You must remember. By then I was fairly experienced in the use of strap and cane. I knew I wouldn’t damage him, but I wanted him to feel my displeasure.
And so the fifth stroke was delivered with all of my might. I had stepped back a pace and then stepped forward, twisted at the waist and with the strap held behind my shoulder brought it down in a wide sweeping arc across the centre of his buttocks The heavy leather, cracked, wrapped deep, his bum flesh rippled. his cheeks started to rotate, and he wailed.
“Ohhhhh fuck!”
Helen whispered softly…
“I spoke loudly,” You bastard!
Then I hit him as hard again, on exactly the same place on his arse, and his bum rose and fell and gyrated as the skin started to redden further.
“Fuck no. It hurts! it hurts so much!
“Good. It’s meant to fucking hurt” and I hit him again. Once again with all the strength I could muster.
He screamed out loud, “You bitch!”
And I gritted my teeth, flung the strap way above my head, stepped in, swivelled at the hips and drove the strap directly over the centre of his bare fleshy posterior.
The result was electric. He gasped, Ohhh! NNNo! And his buttocks bucked wildly.
“Oh Yes,” I replied coldly. In my anger I had forgotten why he was being punished. Now my intention was to deliver pain as efficiently and safely as I could.
I kept at it… striking him at 20 second intervals. His bum was in constant motion first grinding against the seat and then bucking away from it whilst all the while rotating first clockwise and then anticlockwise, With each crack the skin reddened and then darkened until it was all over a bright shiny red with areas starting to darken and turn blue.
All the time he babbled and wailed.
At times it was if he was replying to her as she whispered softly.
“Yes it hurts. I’m sorry.”
Sometimes he spoke to nobody at all.
“Oh fuck! Oh fuck no!”
And sometimes he pleaded with me.
“Stop! Please stop!”
And I remember, quite unfairly, replying, “You deserve this. And more.”
I delivered the twenty fourth stroke and stood back. John slowly stopped moving, quietened, and lay still. Anne sat still, gazing backwards and forwards between his face and arse. Her face was flushed with excitement.
Just then I was filled with an intense feeling of dislike for her and would have loved nothing more than to have had her tied down over the trestle with her large bare bum in the air trembling whilst she waited for punishment.
It was not to be.
“Ten minutes to recover John,” I said. “Then the cane.” I was still unreasonably angry with him.
I left the den and Anne, grudgingly, accompanied me.
A short while later I measured the Rattan cane across his bum cheeks. John lay quiet and waiting. Anne sat transfixed in her wooden chair.
I brought the cane quickly behind my back and then in the same movement brought it quickly forward across his buttocks whilst using my wrist and drove the tip deep into the far buttock cheek. He groaned and a little later a red line appeared across his bum cheeks, and he whimpered.
Anne had started her almost incessant silent mouthing.
I hit him again slightly lower. He writhed, wriggled,screeched loudly, and another stripe appeared.
I maintained a regular rhythm, whipping the tip of the rod into each of his bum cheeks every twenty seconds. The supple rod whistled and cracked as it rose and fell. Each time I struck he jerked and whimpered, and a new stripe appeared. With each stroke his struggles decreased, and his moans grew quieter.
His bum was ridged, swollen, and blue when I picked up the Tohiti cane. I was no longer angry with him. I figured he had suffered enough but mine was not the decision to take. I looked enquiringly across at Anne who smiled and nodded for me to continue. The bitch wanted her pound of flesh, and I must deliver it.
I swung the cane almost lazily across his buttocks. It made a low pitched whooping noise and cracked as it impacted, and a fresh broader mark appeared. His cheeks quivered under the impact, but he took it silently and I knew he was in subspace, that endorphin fugue like state where pain becomes pleasurable. As I drew the cane back I watched him raise his backside as if to welcome the next stroke which again he took with quiet acceptance. I did not strike with anything like full strength. There was no need, and I could no longer hurt him…. He was beyond pain. Now I wanted to safely deliver the remainder of the punishment and each strike was still producing a fresh wheal as he lifted his backside to receive it.
And then it was over. I untied him and left him to lie over the bench whilst Anne remained sitting. I motioned for her to stand and follow me, and we went back to the lounge where she had left her handbag.
“The dashcam,” I said coldly.
She rummaged in her handbag and gave it to me. “It’s already wiped she said.”
“Forgive me if I make sure,” I said. “And no recordings?”
“Of course not.”
“We’re finished then. Quits. Can you see you way out. I need to see to John. Can you see your own way out…. and please never come back to our house. I never want to see you again.”
***
When I returned to the den John was still lying over the trestle. His upturned bum was swollen and traversed with rope like ridges and was heavily bruised, but I had managed to keep any bleeding to a minimum. As I rubbed healing salve into his wounds I knew he would heal quickly but would probably need to sleep on his tummy that evening.
We normally had sex after punishment but that night it didn’t seem appropriate, and I led him to the bedroom where he lay naked on the bed. I took my clothes off, switched off the light, and lay next to him.
“I love you John,” I said. But there was no reply. Just the sound of gentle breathing. Exhausted, he had already fallen into a deep sleep.
***
The first thing I saw when I woke was John lying watching me and as my eyes focused on him he smiled gently.
“Does it hurt very much?” I asked.
“It aches.”
“Did I hit you very hard?”
“You know you did. You were angry with me.”
“I have to be a little angry to hurt you even when I know you want me too to hurt you or you need hurting. Last night I was angry with you and myself for getting ourselves trapped like that. And I was angry at Anne for blackmailing us.But most of all I was angry at your intimacy as she watched. I could see her talking to you and I took it out on you. And then you called me a bitch I’m so sorry. It wasn’t very fair.”
“Maybe not. But what choice did you have? And it was a never to be repeated experience.”
“Oh some of it will be repeated,” I said with a smile. “But I don’t plan to have anybody watch ever again. What was the bitch saying to you anyway?”
“She was taunting me. Asking if it hurt. Telling me she hoped it did and how much she was enjoying my suffering. It was her I called a bitch not you.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t know. The sadistic cow. I’d love to cane her bare arse. I’d make her pay.”
“The thought had occurred to me.” And then he placed two fingers against my lips. “Now no more talk. I can think of a much better use for your pretty mouth and tongue.”
As he said this he rose to his knees beside me. His long thick penis was standing to attention. I rolled onto my back and took him into my mouth and held the shaft in my fingers as I used my tongue and licked his glans and frenulum.
I felt his hand reach down between my legs and I willingly parted my thighs, and his fingers soon found my bud and slowly rubbed me in a circular motion. I was wet and aching for it when I felt two fingers slide inside me and with his thumb against my clitoris he finger fucked me. His fingers moved faster and faster as I moved my lips up and down his shaft. Soon my pleasure was almost unbearable, and I raised my hips and pelvis towards his busy hand and took my first orgasm. I had let go of him as the first waves of pleasure hit me and my cunt and anus spasmed, my back arched, and I screamed in ecstasy as he knelt looking down at me.
I lay on my back with my legs apart and he lay between them and slid inside me. I was sopping wet and there was no resistance. When he was deep inside he supported himself on his elbows and looked down into my eyes as he ground himself in a slow circular motion against me. He was unhurried and the pleasure was indescribable and soon I came again. As I bucked under him he held me hard against the bed with his strong muscular body. I do not know how many times I came before he finally stopped moving.
He looked down at me. “I Love you Helen. I love you with all my heart.”
And I knew that everything was good between us.
“I love you too,” I replied. “One more time please. ”
Then he fucked me. His prick was like a jackhammer in me, and shortly I was screaming in ecstasy once more until finally as my vaginal muscles clamped down around him he groaned in release and his semen filled me.
***
These events happened several years ago. He has been punished since when he deserved it but the events I have described were quite unique. I sometimes wonder whether Anne manipulated the whole thing, but I guess we will never know. It is very easy to fake whiplash injury.
She and Graham got divorced and moved away. Although John and Graham have stayed in touch she has disappeared and moved up North. Good riddance.
***
John
I shan’t bore you by going back over all the events described by Helen but plan to describe my punishment and the events leading up to it from my viewpoint.
I can’t remember the accident very well although when I backed out of our driveway I was very careful because the high privet hedge obstructs a good view of the road. One moment the road was clear, and the next Anne had ploughed into me. I was convinced I was at fault because of Anne’s insistence that I was, the knowledge that I shouldn’t have been driving on the lane, and by the fact that she said she had dashcam footage.
I know she tricked me and Helen because she told me she did. I haven’t told Helen because I know she felt bad punishing me because Anne wanted her to and telling Helen we were both tricked would serve no purpose and only make her feel more guilty.
To be honest I don’t really understand why she should feel any guilt. She enjoys giving real corporal punishment and although I don’t enjoy it at the time, I have a deep psychological need to be punished. Normally I am punished if she believes I have done something wrong but if she were to decide to beat me for no other reason than she wanted too I would accept it.
The punishment that Anne witnessed was the most severe I had suffered until then. The pain of the strap was awful, and I had never been strapped so hard. Whilst it was happening Anne kept talking, asking me if it hurt, how much she wanted me to suffer, and telling me how much more painful the cane would be.
She was right. The first strokes of the Rattan cane were dreadful. If I had not been strapped down they would have been intolerable. As Anne savoured my pain and kept taunting me I hated her but then the pain started to fade and first became tolerable and then almost pleasurable. I remember the humming of the heavy Tohiti cane and then raising my arse to greet the next stroke.
Whilst the Tohiti was applied Anne had stopped talking but after about three strokes had scored me she spoke for the last time. I heard her clearly. “I tricked you you know.”
Deep into subspace I adored her for it. “Thank you,” I said.
***
That evening left me changed in two ways. The first change was apparent almost straight away. Previously I had most enjoyed watching videos of women cane men but now I enjoy watching women being well disciplined particularly if they are big arsed and pretty brunettes like Anne. I sometimes fantasise that she is bound naked to our punishment trestle and screaming as I take the cane to her fat arse.
The second change only became apparent months later when I was in the pub and an elegant woman wearing a particular brand of expensive perfume walked past me. As I smelt the fragrance I imagined myself back over the bench and I realised that this was the brand of perfume that Anne had applied to her cleavage the night she watched Helen punish me.
Helen has a new Tohiti cane almost identical to the one Anne gifted her. This was broken in two and disposed of. Helen called it “an instrument of injustice.”
The new Tohiti cane has a red leather handle and I both love and hate it. It hurts just as much as its predecessor.
Helen
Of course I set John up. I never really liked him. I was jealous of him. He was so confident and good looking and obviously in love with Helen. What a contrast with my ex Graham who couldn’t get away from me fast enough whenever business was involved. Graham didn’t want to be with me; but then when he came home he wanted to fuck me. I suppose this meant he wasn’t playing away but I’m not sure I would have cared. It might have meant we divorced quicker.
Despite Graham’s advances in the month before Johns punishment I had forced him to use his hand if he wanted relief.
When Helen informed me of John’s kink I was first surprised and then excited by it. I really don’t know why I should have been surprised. After all what does a masochist look like? Nobody would look at Helen or I and say, “there goes a sexual sadist.”
From then on I became obsessed by thoughts of him being caned but Helen would say nothing until that day in the den after which I hatched my plan.
***
I had seen John backing into the lane to turn their car around when they returned home each evening and soon realised this was part of their workday routine. I knew that the stupid bastard had been disqualified for drunk driving and in my opinion he had got off light. One evening it occurred to me that he was on a public highway when in the lane. What if he had an accident?
That Monday evening I waited in our driveway. It was just after seven o’clock when they normally arrived home from work. I heard their car crunching on their gravel drive as they pulled up and I quickly pulled out onto the lane and waited for John to appear and drove into him. I had made bloody sure my dashcam was switched off. I didn’t want there to be any evidence of what had really happened.
Even if John had thought it was deliberate what could he have done. His word against mine. In the event he didn’t realise, and it went like a dream…. and he got the punishment he so deeply deserved, and I got to watch it.
***
It was one of the most erotic experiences of my life. When he stood naked with his beautiful erect cock my envy of Helen grew stronger, and when she tied him down with his bum raised for the strap and cane my panties were wet with my secretions.
I had deliberately worn a low cut dress to let him see my cleavage as he suffered but he was too distracted to notice but I so enjoyed our conversations as the strap and cane cracked and bit.
“Does it hurt?, I do hope so. Only sixteen more and twenty four of the cane. I want to watch you suffer. Wait until you feel the Tohiti cane I brought you,” were just some of the things I whispered to him as my eyes stared into his, and he wriggled and squirmed and screeched and suffered as his bum was reduced to a swollen tattered mess. The last thing I said to him before he entered that trance like state was, “I tricked you.” It was wonderful.
When I got home I went straight to my bedroom, stripped naked and lay on the bed in front of the mirrored double wardrobe with my legs apart. Then, as I reran his thrashing in my mind I put my largest vibrator inside myself and use my wand to bring myself to several shuddering orgasms.
Graham arrived home early and unexpectedly Saturday morning. He must have thought all his birthdays had come at once. I met him at the front door, unzipped his flies, took out his cock and gave him a blowjob. Before he could cum and when he was rock hard I took him upstairs and stripped and fucked him. I orgasmed in the doggy, cowgirl, and cowboy positions as I fantasised it was John’s cock inside me and remembered his punishment and his beautiful arse; swollen, blue and traversed by the marks of the cane. And then with my arse raised, for the first and last time, I let Graham put his cock in my bum crack and pump his cum inside of me.
***
That was my final hurrah with Graham and a year later we were divorced. I had shot my bolt with Helen… with John I wasn’t so sure. Nonetheless it had opened my eyes. A vanilla existence with Graham was no longer an option. I have now rebranded myself as a professional dominatrix and I love my work. I am quite merciless, and particularly like to use the Tohiti cane with which I have become very proficient and apply severely and accurately.
And John…. PLEASE look me up if you’re ever in the Bradford area. For you my services will be free. I advertise CP only, with no sexual favours available. For you I will make an exception and afterwards you can have me any way you want. I owe you. I’m on the web. My web address………..
***
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