Before she’d had a chance to wriggle away from him, he moved his hands to her bodice and tore it apart, revealing her small, firm, rosebud breasts. Her nipples were tight, hard with desire. He took one, then the other into his mouth, sucking, biting, scratching them with his fingers. She could feel herself begin to respond to him again, and felt his cock harden in turn too. She decided, though, that they had pleasured each other enough for today, and standing back from his lap, Angelique allowed her skirts to fall to the floor. He reached for her, thrust his hand back under her petticoats and slapped her thigh through her torn knickerbockers, but she stepped out of his reach. He sighed.
“I have never gone this far before with a governess, Mademoiselle,” he said, sounding regretful. “You are extremely disobedient. Much more so than any of the others. You may leave now.”
She nodded at him, then left the room, smiling, holding the torn fabric of her bodice to her chest, hoping to avoid the other servants as she returned to her room. She now knew where the power really lay between them. He had tested her. And he had also proven that he needed her. He would do this to her again. Of that she was certain.
The Rose
by Beth Anderson
Almost as soon as I arrived, I was naked. It was how he wanted it, and how he told me it would happen. Only a few minutes ago I’d nervously knocked on his door and walked into the hall. I was to arrive in a black pencil skirt, black seamed stockings, black heels and a white blouse, and nothing else. “Underwear won’t be needed,” he’d already informed me. “You know what to do” were his only words as his fingers held my arms and he kissed me on the cheek. You see, I’d been naughty and had confessed to him during one of our many intimate chats that I’d been seeing lots of men for sex. After this admission, he told me I was to attend a ‘training session’.
My heart was almost in my mouth as I stood in front of him, slipping off my shoes, undoing my blouse and exposing my breasts in front of him for the first time. I thought about how different relationships are on the Internet. That you can get to know someone so intimately and yet have never met ... Unzipping my skirt and sliding it over my thighs, I stepped out of it as demurely as I could. I just hoped he’d not see how wet I’d become already, even on the drive over here. I rolled the stockings down my smooth legs and over my feet, placing them on top of the rest of my clothes on the hall chair. I stood in front of him and he took me all in. His eyes running up and down my body, over my breasts and stomach, my waist and legs, and examining my pussy. The tiniest smile appeared on his lips as he obviously noticed my wetness and he moved one hand towards me. A single finger traced a gentle line over me and slid inside me. I hid a little gasp as well as I could, but he just looked deep into my eyes and ran his wet finger over my red lips.
“You know what will happen tonight, don’t you?” he asked me. I’d been fantasising about this moment for the last two weeks; I needed this to happen to me. I quietly replied, “Yes, sir.” “Good,” he answered, taking my hand. He led me through the hall and into his playroom with dim lighting and wonderful incense burning. The centre of the room held a large bed with black satin sheets and a single red rose in the centre. He’d already told me to expect a rose; it was for me to remember this night. All around was a collection of his various benches and furniture. I realised then that this was real. It was all going to happen as he said. Laying me down on the bed, he told me to close my eyes and relax. He walked purposefully around the room, arranging his implements and enjoying my naked presence.
Soon he was back at my side with leather restraints with large D rings at the sides of them. Both of my wrists and ankles were bound in these restraints and I was led to the first bench. Although very comfortable, I was aware that while I was being restrained to it, it pushed my hips upward and opened my legs; I could feel the cool air on me, almost as if I were on display for him. A flogger was placed on the bench in front of me, along with a crop, a paddle and a cane. He liked to do that; to show you how you would be punished before you received it. I relaxed into the bench feeling so very secure. I closed my eyes and took a long, slow breath.
His hands started to caress my naked bottom, stroking and kneading me. Slow, deliberate spanks started to rain down onto my willing behind and I let out a long, low moan. He picked up momentum, and the room was filled with the ‘smack’ sound of his hand, hard on my softness. I felt my bottom shake with every stroke and relaxed into his punishment, the glorious heat and redness building up. Each stroke seemed to go right through me, and I could feel my entire body responding to his hand. Right then and there, we were one.
The flogger came next and he expertly wielded it as each stroke shook me with its weight. Speeding up and slowing down, he was silent as he concentrated on delivering me the pain I needed. The sound of a flogger alone is enough to excite me, but his exquisite punishment was sending me to another world. Images of him holding me tight, inside me and looking into my eyes flashed through my mind as the intensity increased. Slowly I drifted to a place where only this moment existed. I forgot who I was and as the endorphins rushed through my body I cried out, a visceral and long cry.
I kissed the heavy black leather paddle as he held it in front of me. This was one of his favourites and was used only when he knew he had a very willing submissive. Placed on my red behind, it felt so cool and soothing. He gently ran its entire surface over me, enjoying my curves. With no warning he brought the paddle down onto me hard, once on each cheek. I was expecting a pause until the next stroke, but I should have known better. Stroke after stroke hit me, with the most almighty sounds. Each stroke rocketing through my entire body and making my fingertips tingle. As he continued spanking me with this wonderful implement, I started to wiggle and lift my feet up. I couldn’t take any more. Tears were rolling down my cheeks as I screamed and shouted, cried out and thrashed in vain, strapped to the bench as I was. More and more it hit me, over and over. It seemed to get harder and harder as he found his rhythm and brought the paddle down onto me hard. I needed this so much and was swimming with pleasure, not aware of time or anything around me. But there was more, and more. When I thought I could take no more, there was. When I thought I was finished, I wasn’t. He knew what I needed and he was going to enjoy giving it to me. Tears rolling down my face; I cried, screamed and breathed through each shuddering jolt.
Slowing down, he gently started to run his hands over me, examining his handiwork.
Without a word, the paddle was put aside and the cane was selected. That tiny, fragile thing that would cause me so much pain. I marvelled at its simplicity and purpose. “You will receive ten with the cane.” He spoke in a soft and firm manner that didn’t break the spell I was under, and I simply replied, “Thank you, sir.”
I was to count each stroke and reply with “thank you, sir” after each one. The swishing sound that the cane made through the air as he warmed up was so intense that I jumped each time I heard it. I knew what was coming. A swoosh and the briefest of pauses and then a firework burst of pain jumped through me like a shock. I gasped and, composing myself, replied, “One, thank you, sir.” I made sure I was as relaxed as possible throughout my caning so I might get through it. Each stroke was more painful than the last, but stroke after stroke, I counted and thanked him each time.
At the tenth stroke he paused. “This is your final stroke,” he informed me, his firm and calm manner relaxing me. I heard the loud swish, and the cane met me; a millisecond pause and then pain erupted from deep within me. I screamed; from the deepest part of me, I screamed. Electricity shot through my body until I slumped onto the bench. Trying to get my breath, I was only aware of the burning line across my delicate bottom. I relaxed, smiled and wept ...
No Smoking
by Stephen Albrow
It was cold and dark, but Carly still went outside. She was the only smoker on the evening shift and there was no way she could survive her tea break without a couple of Marlboro Lights. She wished she’d brought her ja
cket with her, because her short skirt and blouse did little to protect her from the chill night air. But at least the ciggies would warm her up, if she could only manage to get them lit.
There was a disused doorway at the back of the office car park where the smokers huddled when the weather was bad. There was very little draft there, so Carly snuck inside, put a fag in her mouth and then sparked up her lighter. She felt a pleasing wave of relaxation, as the tobacco caught alight and the first plume of smoke billowed into her face. Working in a call centre could get stressful at times, with all those angry customers shouting down the phone, so she needed these moments of respite and calm.
Carly took a long draw on her cigarette and sent a long jet of smoke spiralling into the air. It caught on the breeze and dispersed in seconds, but not before someone had managed to spot it. And whoever it was, they appeared to be angry.
“Hey, you shouldn’t be smoking there!” yelled a voice, and then a torch light shone in Carly’s face. She froze for a moment, remembering all the times she’d been caught having a crafty fag in her lunch breaks at school, and feeling like a bad girl, she quickly stubbed the cigarette out and then hid her lighter down her cleavage crack.
And then she remembered she was an adult now and wondered why she’d reacted like that.
“But everyone smokes here,” she said, as she saw the stranger getting closer. Only it wasn’t a stranger. It was only Tim, the new security guard who had started last week. The young guard. The handsome guard. The one who looked cute in his uniform.
He stepped into the doorway and switched off his torch. They were close enough now for him not to need it. He sniffed the air and smelled the smoke, then shook his head in what seemed like disgust. But Carly couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not. She was too busy thinking how sexy he looked when he was angry.
“Don’t you read the notice board?” he asked, a hint of aggression in his voice.
“Why?”
“Because the rules have changed. You can’t smoke anywhere within the office grounds now.”
“I’m sorry,” said Carly, looking down at her feet. There was something about the tall, muscular guard that kept making her feel like a naughty schoolgirl. Maybe it was the authority his dark blue uniform gave him, or the fact he was just so incredibly good-looking, or just his masterful way of speaking to her.
“Well, sorry isn’t good enough, I’m afraid,” said Tim, then he told her to turn around and face the wall. “I’m going to have to frisk you.”
“You’re joking, aren’t you?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
Carly looked and he didn’t. Unless ... Unless ... She stared into his big blue eyes and was that a twinkle in the corner of each? And that frown on his lips, that James Dean sneer, was there maybe a hint of a smirk about it?
“Face the wall,” he yelled before she could decide, and he spoke with such force that she daren’t disobey him. She turned to the wall and spread her arms and legs, then felt his warm hands upon her hips. He slid them up the sides of her torso, then ran them along her outstretched arms, his touch both firm and reassuring. This must have been what it would feel like to be frisked by a proper policeman. A little bit scary, but also quite exciting – especially the way it made her feel like such a naughty girl.
“What are you looking for?” she asked, as Tim’s warm hands moved back along her arms and then back down to her hips.
“Evidence,” he said, then he dropped to his knees and ran his fingers down the sides of her miniskirt.
“Evidence of what?”
“Evidence that you’re a bad girl,” Tim said, his hands now touching Carly’s stocking-clad thighs. She looked down over her shoulder at him, wondering if he could see her stocking tops. The breeze kept ruffling the hem of her skirt, which only covered them by an inch or so.
“Well, you won’t find nothing down there,” said Carly, as Tim’s hands ran right the way down her legs. She didn’t mind him looking, though, because his touch felt even nicer through her soft, sheer nylons, and as his fingertips reached her shiny stilettos, she felt a tingle of arousal between her thighs. He had touched almost every inch of her body, and still his hands were on the move, sliding back up her thighs and then reaching round her body to search her stomach area and then her breasts. And that was the most thrilling moment of all, because that’s where Carly had stashed her lighter. And it made her feel like such a bad, little girl – one who was about to be caught red-handed.
“Well, what have we here?” Tim asked aloud, as his fingers cupped the bad girl’s breasts. He could feel the lighter through her silky blouse, but seemed far more interested in Carly’s nipples. They were pert and hard, which might have been the cold, but Tim felt certain it was more than that. Carly’s heart was beating fast and her cleavage was trembling, both obvious signs of how aroused she was.
“I’m going to have to confiscate this,” Tim said, unbuttoning Carly’s blouse and reaching inside. He squeezed her breasts through her lacy bra, then plucked the lighter from its hiding place.
“You can’t,” said Carly.
“I can,” said Tim; and Carly still couldn’t tell how serious he was, but if this was just Tim’s way of flirting with her, then she liked his way of flirting a lot. Her body was tingling in all the right places – all the places he had fondled in the full and thorough frisking. And there was something about that uniform, too – it made her feel like she had no choice but to obey Tim’s orders, no matter how ridiculous they might have seemed.
“You can’t take the lighter, it’s mine,” insisted Carly, though she knew he could do whatever he liked.
“I’m taking it,” he shouted, getting firmer with her now.
“But I’m a fully grown woman.”
And that made Tim laugh.
“A fully grown woman?”
“Yes, I’m twenty-six years old,” said Carly.
“Well, then why are you acting like a naughty little girl?”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You’ve been caught smoking where you shouldn’t have done. And that makes you a very bad girl – a very bad girl who needs to be punished.”
And before she could put up any more of a fight, Tim hitched up the back of Carly’s skirt. He smiled when he saw her stocking tops and then her black suspenders and her lace-trimmed knickers. They were clinging tight to her small, round buttocks, the fabric wedged between her cheeks. For Tim, it made an irresistible sight – such a perfect arse simply had to be spanked!
“You bad, bad girl,” he muttered, keeping the skirt raised with one hand while lifting his other hand into the air. Carly closed her eyes. She could tell what was coming, but couldn’t quite believe it was really true. She had never been spanked – not even at school – no matter how badly she had misbehaved or how many times she’d been caught with a crafty fag in her hand. No, she’d never been spanked, although she’d often deserved it, and so she couldn’t wait to feel Tim’s hand on her flesh.
She gasped, as his arm flashed through the air and the palm of his hand smacked into her arse. He’d caught her right in the middle of her plump left cheek, and though the thickness of her knickers had softened the blow, the mild twinge of pain was like a statement of intent – it was clear there was still much more to come. The second smack followed just a second later and was delivered with almost twice the force, confirming that the first strike had been nothing more than a warm-up blow. Crisper and harder, the second strike seemed to summon an instant bruise to her cheeks. She could picture her flesh turning all red and sore, as the pain it triggered made her buttocks throb.
“This’ll teach you,” said Tim, as he drew back his hand and then drove it hard into Carly’s behind. Two blows came in quick succession – a smack to the left cheek and a smack to the right – and Carly yelled from the bitter sting now building up with each new thwack. Her cheeks were getting redder and sorer, with tender welts rising all over her arse, and as more blows
came, now directed at these sore spots, the level of intensity made her tremble inside. It was such an overwhelming feeling – being made to lean over while her arse was spanked! It was painful and sore, and yet, despite all that, Carly pushed out her buttocks like she wanted more.
“Bad girl,” said Tim. He had noticed her sticking her bottom out, and so he punished her with the hardest spank so far. “You’re not meant to be enjoying this!” But Carly couldn’t help herself. The constant throbbing in her bum cheeks was proving to be even more relaxing than a cigarette, because every spank seemed to wipe away any trace of guilt she had ever felt in the whole of her life. All the naughty things she’d ever done were now being punished. She was making amends for all her bad girl ways.
“Spank me harder,” she said, and Tim rose to the challenge, delivering five quick strikes to Carly’s left cheek. There was genuine aggression in every smack, like he was angry with her for wanting a harder spanking. Without really meaning to, she had put into question his dominant force, and so he now sought to teach her an even harsher lesson. To this end, he pulled her knickers down and began to spank her naked buttocks, determined to make her rue the day she had asked him to spank her with greater force.
Again and again, with increasing venom, the palm of Tim’s hand struck Carly’s cheeks. She was surprised by the difference being knickerless made – it was only a thin layer of silk after all – but without this, the smacks felt ten times harder and caused her to scream out loud with pain. The whole of her buttocks had turned red by now and so each new blow struck tender flesh, the whirlwind of slaps enflaming the welts and bruises already raised by Tim’s firm hand. There was only so much of this a girl could take, and Carly felt close to reaching her limit. But then two things happened that changed her mind. First, her buttocks went numb, and then her cunt started throbbing.
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