A Sting in the Tail

I felt a thrill of anticipation as I rang the doorbell. The house was nice; old, in a big garden, no neighbours nearby. I was dressed as agreed, as if I'd just been to the gym. The door opened, and there he was, wide smile, welcoming; he was in light jeans and a dark blue t-shirt that showed off his lean muscles, and looked very good.

She was stunning; short white halter top, blue cotton lycra workout pants, ending at the knee. Her legs were nicely shaped, and I could see smooth muscles moving under the thin cotton as she entered. Her dark hair was tied back in a ponytail. Her eyes were bright, alive, and I could tell she was as excited as I was.

I went past him into the hall. My left hand brushed, accidentally of course, against the front of his jeans. He gave a smile; we were on the same wavelength. It felt as if something amazing was ahead of us.

I enjoyed the view as she walked to the end of the hall, felt a tingle of anticipation as she turned and looked back at me. "Up the stairs, first room on the left." I just managed to keep my hands off her marvellous backside, which looked so enticing as she climbed the stairs in front of me. She looked back at me as she reached the top of the stairs, fully aware of the effect she was having.

The room we were in was large, square and sparely lit. The walls were dark, and two areas were highlighted with small spotlights. What I saw there gave me tingles in the pit of my stomach; I even shuddered slightly, and caught my breath. It was perfect.

She stopped in the doorway, and drew in her breath. It looked pretty good, I had to admit, and it was clearly having the desired effect.

A large, padded couch without back or arms, but with a little leather loop in each corner, was dead centre, illuminated by a single spotlight. On the left, a table laid with a variety of interesting implements : a bundle of canes, a few leather belts of varying thickness, a couple of wooden paddles, a thicker, shorter cane with a leather tip, a cat o' nine tails, and a long bundle of birch rods tied together. I slipped off my shoes, padded on bare feet over to the table, and ran my hands over the assembled toys. I swished one of the canes, felt the weight of a couple of the belts, smacking one off my thigh, watching for his reaction. He licked his lips. I smiled. Got you. Then I hefted the birch rods, swung them into my hand. They were heavy. It stung. "I haven't tried this before. Could we?"

I watched as she tried one of the belts, giving her thigh a quick taste, eyes on me the whole time. I felt my breathing quicken. God, she was exciting. Then she picked up my newest acquisition, the Swedish birch. She wanted to try it out. I pictured myself swinging it, the birch twigs making contact with that perfect behind. "Maybe we will. We'll have to see how we get on. Let's get started. Lie down on the bench." She licked her lips, walked quickly to the bench and laid herself face down. She eased herself on, stretched out and grasped the two small loops of leather at the end. I leaned down and she started a little as I took each ankle in turn and pulled it towards a corner, attached a loop of leather to each.

The bench was nicely padded and felt cool against my stomach and legs. I knew the position would make the most of my bottom, and I knew it would ensure that I felt each and every blow to the full. Suddenly I felt his hand on my left ankle, pulling it sideways. He slipped a little loop round it, then did the same for my other leg. The feeling of being tied down, controlled, made me feel strange; excited and aroused. I was his, absolutely at his mercy. I was more than ready for what was to come as he announced his intention and picked up one of the canes.

"A little touch of the cane first, I think." I picked up a thin, whippy cane and took my position, but stopped to take in the picture before me. Her white top stopped a good six inches above the trousers, which were tight across her rounded, full buttocks, accentuating them superbly. Her legs, stretched out, looked superb. I had a sudden urge to climb between them and rip off the thin cotton. I resisted manfully, and instead rested the cane across the highest point of both cheeks, tapped it quickly, lightly. I was pleased to see a small reaction, her muscles jumping slightly. Unable to stop myself, I ran my hand over the smooth contours of her bottom, imagining the effect of the cane, the belt, the birch on it. I had another urge, to deliver an old-fashioned spanking across my knee. Perhaps another time. Right now there were other pleasures waiting. I gave her bottom a smart slap, stood back and swished the cane through the air a couple of times, enjoying the noise it made. She had clearly heard that sound before; I saw a smile appear on her lips.

He was clearly besotted with the vision of me stretched out before him. As he stroked the contours of my bottom I looked over my shoulder at him. I had spent a lot of effort getting my body to look as I wanted, and I knew how enticing I was to him. I was no stranger to the cane either, or the belt, but I was looking forward to tasting the birch for the first time. I got the feeling that I wouldn't be spared that particular rod. He gave my behind a good slap, which rang out in the silent room. I smiled, enjoying the anticipation. Then he swished the cane a couple of times, for effect, which widened my smile. I turned my head, made eye contact. This was going to be something special, I could tell.

She turned her head to look at me and her ponytail moved across her shoulder, dark hair contrasting with her white top. I gave her a tight smile, raised the cane high and brought it down hard across the tight cotton.

He brought the cane down with a swish, and the searing, burning pain made me draw my breath. He raised his arm again - swish! and another blistering pain, in exactly the same place. The thin cotton gave me little protection. Despite myself I let out a slight whimper. Another stroke, then another, in quick succession. I arched my back, let out a cry.

The muscles in her back tensed and she jerked her head upwards, cried out. She squirmed delightfully, moving her backside from side to side as I brought the thin cane down across both rounded globes. After six more hard strokes I put the cane down, picked up a leather belt, split at the end into three; a Lochgelly Tawse. I rested it on her rounded bottom, moved it back and forth, giving her a feel of the shiny, worn leather.

He picked up a short tawse, though not the thickest one. It was still going to hurt though. He laid it across both cheeks, let it rest there for a moment, then moved it across the target area. I nearly begged him to start, but held my tongue. The leather felt heavy, and smooth, through the thin cotton, and cool against the heat that the cane had raised.

She was ready. I raised the short length of leather high and cracked it, hard, across both cheeks. She cried out, and her bottom pushed into the cushion and then jerked upwards. I couldn't resist such a tempting target and the next stroke followed quickly, harder then the first, searing a broad path across the thin, tight cotton. She moaned delightfully, and her head sank forward. Two more hard strokes of the polished leather brought forth a low moan, another stroke then another, harder than the rest, and a final, extra hard crack which made her cry out and grind her hips into the padded bench. Then I laid the belt down.

I expected the belt to sting, and it did, again and again, the leather searing a path of pain and heat across my backside. It had another impact, greater than the pain - a churning deep inside as my lust, my sex, built and gathered. I moaned, which made him bring the leather down with greater force. My arse was burning. It was everything I had dreamed. Another crack! of the leather, harder than before, god how it stung; then he really let rip with a final crack! full across the tight cotton which stretched across my now burning behind. I cried out and pushed my hips down, away from the hard, punishing blows. He stopped and laid the belt down. I took in a deep, shuddering breath. My backside was on fire; I wanted it to stop, but needed more. I moved on the bench, squirming and moving my legs together. I had to have more.

I stopped, and looked down at her; she was moving her bottom from side to side, moving her legs together and seemed to be lost to the world around her. "If we're going to try the birch, we'll need to get rid of the gym gear. Take it off."

There was a touch of steel in his voice, which increased the excitement. I stood up, a bit stiffly, and took off the halter top. As instructed, there was no bra. My breasts were pert, nipples like rock. I eased the trousers down as gently as I could over my stinging backside, stepped out of them, and stood in front of him. Unable to stop myself, my hands went to my burning, smarting bottom. It felt hot, and I could guess how it looked.

She was superb. Her trim body was beautifully muscled, and as she held her smarting bottom with her hands and held my eyes with her direct, unflinching gaze the desire to fuck her there and then was almost too strong to bear. Keeping my eyes on her, I took off my t-shirt and jeans. My light cotton trunks were straining, a bulge telling her what she wanted to know about my state of readiness. But there was a script, and we had to keep to it. "Back on the bench." I ordered. She climbed on once more, assumed the position, and looked back at me. Naked and stretched out on the bench, her body looked superb. Her breasts were full and pert. Her waist was thin, and the muscles of her back were taut. Her backside was full, rounded, voluptuous. And very red. Her smoothly muscled legs were trembling slightly with anticipation.

I looked back over my shoulder. I could see the way he was looking at my body. He was mine, and we both knew it. "Make it as hard as you like." I told him, looking him in the eye. "I can take it." The bulge in his pants grew. He took his position, raised the birch, and ...for a few seconds, nothing, then a hundred points of burning pain assaulted my already smarting backside. I drew in my breath. The pain was worse, and more wonderful, than anything I had ever experienced. I jerked my backside upwards, purely out of reflex.

The first stroke, right across her full, rounded bottom, made her gasp and she gave an involuntary jerk, presenting herself so beautifully that I couldn't resist. I brought the birch down harder, eliciting a cry of pain, and she ground her hips in to the bench, arched her back, head up.

The second stroke was even harder, and I cried out. The third followed immediately; I writhed from side to side, in an ecstasy of pain. Again, the bundle of rods burned my backside, an all-encompassing fire making me cry out again. Then nothing, for a heartbeat, two heartbeats. He was playing with me. "Please.." I moaned. Then the birch fell again, covering, flooding my backside with pain, sweet, sweet pain. It was like a hundred canes at the same time. It was like nothing I'd ever felt before. I didn't want it to stop.

The birch twigs were long, and spread fully across both cheeks; after the first few I paused between blows, relishing the effect on her bottom, and allowing the thin red strokes that covered her juddering buttocks to fade to a dull red. I knew the pain wasn't fading as quickly. She was gasping with pain and moaning with - what - pleasure? - her body writhed across the padded bench, her legs rubbing together, her bottom pressing down into the cushion then raising as if for more. I tried to time my downstroke to meet her bottom when it was presented at its best. Each time I did she cried out, and arched her back, pressing downwards with a strong, involuntary reaction.

I lost count of the blows, which rained down with a metronomic precision, allowing time between each stinging blow for the pain to mount to a maximum. I was moaning and writhing, almost beyond self control, the pain/pleasure blurring into a glorious whole.

After 12 strokes I sensed we'd both had enough. I raised the birch one last time, waited a long 30 seconds and laid it, with as much force as I could muster, full across both cheeks. She gave the loudest cry yet and jumped up, both hands pressed to her bottom.

A last, extra hard blow of the birch rods, full across my punished backside, made me jump from the bench, hands pressed to my backside. It was burning, and so was another part of me. I was burning for his dick inside me. He felt the urgency too, wasted no time in taking his pants off. His erection sprung out, ready: I wanted it inside me more than anything I had ever desired before.

I stepped out of my trunks, my dick harder than it had ever been. If we didn't fuck now I would explode. "On your knees." I ordered. She obeyed instantly, kneeling on the edge of the bench, head downwards, and parted her legs.

His voice shook slightly as he told me to get on my knees. I knew then that he felt the same urgency, the same need, as I did. I knelt on the corner of the bench, my head resting on the cushion.

I stood behind her, pulled her hips towards me, positioned myself at the mouth of paradise and sunk smoothly in to the root.

I felt the tip of his penis part the edges of my vagina. I held my breath as he slid slowly, fully inside me, then moaned as he slid out again, just as slowly.

She moaned as I slid out, and slowly, so slowly, slid the full length of my erection inside the heat of her welcoming vagina. I held it there for a heartbeat, feeling the pulse in my erection and the tight muscles inside her gripping me.

It was almost too much. I needed a proper fucking. "Harder, for fuck's sake" I said. He drew back fully and slammed into me, his stomach hitting against my smarting backside, the hardness and size of his erection filling me completely. He gripped my hips and started pounding into me, faster and harder. The mixture of pain and pleasure was all-encompassing. The rest of the room, the world, disappeared. Nothing mattered but this moment, this sensation. After a few more deep thrusts his penis thickened, twisted inside me and he started to come as I felt a savage orgasm, more intense than anything I'd ever felt in my life, overwhelm me.

She cried out one last time, this time in pleasure. My own orgasm matched hers perfectly as I came inside her. The waves of ecstasy seemed to go on for an eternity, and I felt a glorious fulfilment as I came and came and came. Eventually, the waves of pleasure subsided and I pulled out of her and stood, breathing hard, legs shaking, supporting myself on my arms, hands either side of her hips on the bench. She was slumped forward, utterly spent. I was directly above her glorious, wonderful backside, which was was deep red, and patterned with the rods of the birch. I leaned down slightly and kissed each cheek once. "I've never experienced anything like that in my life." I said. "If we weren't married I'd propose on the spot."

I turned and looked over my shoulder at my husband. "And I think I could probably be persuaded to say yes."