How one young lady was introduced to a new hobby.

By Katherine Jones

I rounded the final corner of my journey and drew up in the hotel car park. The usual cocktail of emotions was pulsing through my body. I was fired by the anticipation and excitement I felt every time I saw him. However this was always mixed with the anxiety which flowed from the act of the deception I needed to perform to get away. From the moment I left work until the moment I returned home I was constantly worried about my family and work colleagues discovering the truth. I had once again explained my impending absence to them with a complicated lie which, on reflection, left a number of possible loose ends.

However today I had a new and almost over-powering anxiety. I had agreed for the first time to let him cane my bare bottom and this was scaring me big time!  That afternoon was to be the culmination of a line of conversation which he had initiated after watching the film “The Secretary”, which was big news at the time. I had always known he was very keen on my bottom and had been sounding out my attitude to spanking throughout our relationship with some of the comments he made and the way he touched me.

We had been lovers for nine months. I hated the word ‘affair’ but in common parlance that is exactly what it was. He had his wife and children and I had my man living with me. We had worked together for nearly three years before the affair began and he was my manager for all of that time. That always felt to me to be a bit sad and too much of a cliché or stereotype, but the reality is that is how it was.

It all came to a head when he was offered another post in the south of England at the behest of his wife who wanted to move back closer to her home town. After he went public with the fact that he was moving on we just seemed to grow closer and in the lead-up to him leaving I think we both acknowledged to ourselves that our separation would leave a huge hole in our lives. However it was only at his leaving drinks party that we finally got together and were honest with each other about how we felt.

He moved over 200 miles away but we managed to meet up usually about every two to three weeks. Initially we were very careful, just kissing and holding each other, but after he led and reassured me through the first time we began a rampant and full-blooded sex life. I loved how he pushed and challenged me to experiment both emotionally and sexually but was also incredibly thoughtful and caring. We spoke on the phone each day and I would have done anything for him.

When I guess he judged that I had responded positively to his ‘Secretary’ based spanking conversation topics he initially suggested that it might be fun to spank each other. I was non-committal to that idea, which I didn’t really like the sound of, so to his credit he simply took the opportunity whilst I was aroused in our fore play to pull me over his lap, hold me down and lightly spank my bare bottom. I didn’t object and he knew that in all probability he was on safe ground as I always said that I would try anything once. In fact I found it incredibly sexy and enjoyed being in this uniquely vulnerable position for the first time in my life and letting him take control. Those ten gentle spanks changed my life and triggered a new lifelong interest.

His spanking of me became a part of our routine over our next couple of meetings but I always knew that he was likely to push it further. When he eventually raised the idea of using the cane I didn’t object and once it became clear that my man was going to be abroad on business for a couple of weeks and therefore not around to see any marks which might be inflicted I agreed that we could meet up and I would let him have his way with the cane.

I walked, for once slightly nervously, into the bar of the hotel. However immediately I saw him sat quietly reading a newspaper I was as always completely disarmed and went over to hug him and hold him tight in my arms. We then settled down to a familiar pattern as we hugged and kissed, drank and ate and caught up with our news. This was a lovely and relaxed time.

At 2 pm, our plates and drinks empty, his focus suddenly changed. He wanted to check that I hadn’t changed my mind about the caning but also said that although he wished to go ahead he was worried about hurting me and also how it should all be conducted.

I hugged him and told him not worry and to leave it to me. I did check, however, that he had brought a cane, which he confirmed he had from a sex shop in a neighbouring town. I was relieved that it sounded as if it would be fit for purpose, not bought last minute from a garden centre on the journey to the hotel! I hugged him and then put my arm round his waist and together we headed through the faceless corridors until I found the white door of our room, number 55.

Once inside the room I looked at the familiar scene of the corporate décor and the disproportionately large double bed which filled most of the room. He stood expectantly looking at me trying to read my face and judge my reaction as he pulled out the cane he had bought from his rucksack. I was quite excited, but also a bit anxious at the same time, so I decided to give him a little bit of something to think about. Thus I said in a rather sneering voice: “You’re not thinking you are going to hit me with that, are you?”

To my delight he replied immediately. “Yes I am.” Then he pulled me gently but firmly on to the bed face first and thrust a couple of pillows underneath my stomach.

“OK, OK, Mr Big Shot, have it your way!” I said smiling and licking my lips provocatively.

I levered myself up, slipped off my jacket and threw it onto the floor. He then began to unzip my jeans and I instinctively fell forward over the pillows letting him pull away the denim until the only protection below my waist was my tiny lace black panties.

He took his time, now fully confident that I would comply. Although I was keen to get it over with and experience the feel of the cane for the first time, I enjoyed his touch and as he caressed my up-turned bottom. I indulged myself and responded to his every move. My knickers were now very damp but he kept them in place as he, for the first time, moved to pick up the cane. He then stood at the left hand side of the bed as I lay prone across the pillows.

I felt the tip of the cane tease my bottom but was quite unprepared when it suddenly whipped back and, with a loud crack, cut into my exposed flesh. My knickers offered no protection, but after the initial sting of the blow there was a moment of numbness which was then followed by a sudden and excruciating pain. As I gasped from the shock of this initial blow, another crack followed and then a third, both ripping into my tender buttocks protected ineffectively by the black lace of my panties.

I cried out and instinctively sprang up and grabbed my bottom. “You bastard!” I shouted, but he didn’t stop and I made no effort to stop him. He then moved across to pull my knickers down below my knees and resumed the attack with three more strokes delivered in quick succession on my bruised and burning bottom. It seemed to me that as he grew in confidence he let his anxiety about our situation and the stress of our deception feed the power of his strokes. I was now in agony and genuinely scared about what he might do next.

However seconds later he had dropped the cane and we were making love as he laid himself across my bruised and battered bottom, his bulging groin touching my dampness. I responded fully aroused and tearfully passionate.

That was the first and last time I experienced the cane. Our sexual experimentation peaked that afternoon and within a year I had reluctantly broken away from him, tired and sick of all the lies and the need to lie. Ultimately it was the lies and the deceit which brought us down. In these situations you end up lying to everyone and in the end to each other as truth and lies become blurred. However on that afternoon we were still hot for each other and up for pushing the boundaries.

The legacy of that time in my life though is strong. I still love him now and miss his touch and his challenge to me both emotionally and physically. Also I have my memory of that afternoon and my continuing interest in a world of stories and pictures which pay homage to the glorious moment of the intersection of the cane with a beautiful female bottom.

The End

© Katherine Jones 2015