Behind the Swing

The 4 year old had started nursery classes, but today was Saturday and now she was flying through the air as her mother, Amanda, pushed the swing up high, listening to the little girl giggle with excitement.

Amanda was 30 and very comfortable with her life style. She was married and very happy, her husband had a good job in the city, in 'finance,' and she had previously had a worthwhile career, only giving up when she became pregnant. They lived in a superb bungalow with a spacious garden, she had a little car for running about in and, at 30, Amanda still had a superb figure. She wore her jeans tight across her bottom, and her breasts looked magnificent against the tight, thin T-shirt, as she laughed and played with her daughter in the local recreation ground.

Amanda would never dream of 'straying' though, as she loved her husband, and enjoyed an active life with her family, and the sex she enjoyed with her husband was still pretty good after 8 years of marriage. She liked to look good, though, when she went out, always looked immaculate, particularly if she was with her husband, and was still able to fantasise occasionally without getting carried away.

This morning, though, Amanda was a little more buoyant than usual, a little nervous and excited as to whether to go ahead with her little secret. She had always wondered, always imagined, but never had the 'bottle' to bring it up in conversation, or discuss it with anybody, least of all her husband. Perhaps, just once, she had thought, just to see if it was possible, and then forget all about it. But where to go, what to say, who to contact –she didn't have a clue. Until yesterday that is, the Friday, when it had been raining and she had been at home on her own, nothing to do while her daughter and husband were away.

Her husband had a computer, like most families, and they were on the 'net', and Amanda knew her way around a computer from her days at work. She did her Tesco shopping on the 'net,' and she had bought other household items occasionally by this method, but now she had decided to fiddle around a bit, see what else might grab her interest, and then daringly, she had gone into some of the more 'adult' sights on the net.

Luckily she had her own password which her husband had fixed up for her–-probably so that he could do the same thing, she thought, but she never asked any questions except to tease him a bit–-so at the moment she was quite happy, just for a little while she thought, to let her imagination run wild.

It was suddenly in front of her, on the screen, what she had only imagined and fantasised about since she was a teenage girl. It had popped up without her really looking for it, and she just looked at it for a few moments, imagining, was it really possible. No, no, I couldn't, something was bound to go wrong –but what—it was pretty clear what she had to do, and it seemed as though there were no catches. Eventually, she had done nothing except make a note of the 'web' site and hidden it away in her purse. Now, in the park on this beautiful Saturday morning, she said to herself that she would look at the 'web' again on Monday morning—should she, or should she just throw it to the back of her mind and not be so stupid.

Amanda had been unable to resist, and was looking at the words again on the Monday morning, nervous, supping her coffee and smoking her umpteenth cigarette. There was no one else in the house, so why should she be nervous. Her husband was behind his desk in the 'city', and her daughter was at the nursery school until 3 o'clock. It was the tension of whether or not to pursue the interest, to answer the offer that seemed so easy to accept.

'Oh God, no, no, forget it,' but she couldn't. She wanted to reply, to find out if it was that easy, to see if there were any complications. Almost Zombie like, Amanda went through a few procedures, using an anonymous name, and eventually was presented with a phone number.

She closed the computer with relief, knowing that her actions were lost in her own 'site', and then sat back eating her lunch, even more nervous as to whether to make that call. She felt so excited, so exhilarated, yet very frightened. She had never contemplated any such thing before, always been an upright housewife, yet she couldn't resist wondering how wonderful it might be. 'Yes, yes, I've got to do it,' she eventually said to herself, plucking up courage from deep within her butterfly stomach.

Using her mobile, with the 141 to hide her own number, and the anonymous name, she made the call and waited for what seemed like ever. It was a woman who answered, with quite a refined voice, which made Amanda feel a little easier but not much, and the conversation was very civilised. Amanda calmed a little and the two women were able to discuss exactly what was required and what the services were, and at no time were names or finances discussed at all. It would be an arrangement, quite without cost, that would be beneficial to all concerned.

The waiting and the excitement for Amanda during the next few days were nearly overwhelming but, eventually, Friday morning arrived. She didn't have to do anything, she could forget it, and nobody would be any the wiser. She had the name of a suburban street to go to about 30 miles away and then she would ring the telephone number again. If she didn't, it wouldn't matter.

The Jaguar had taken her husband down the road about 7am as usual, and she had taken the little girl along to nursery about 8.45. It was now 9.30 and Amanda was bubbling–-yes, or no!! It was another sunny, warm day and she gave in –yes, yes, go on, you know you want to.

She rushed up the stairs before she could change her mind, had a quick bath and got dressed again. She was in the Renault Clio before a quarter past ten and knew she would be there by 11 o'clock –oh, God, this is it, is it the right thing, I don't have to go, nobody's making me, but Amanda knew that she wanted to, wanted to fulfil what she had thought of so many times. Her little, sporty car had a powerful engine and she had the roof down in the warm breeze with the sun in her face. Amanda had her sunglasses on, and was on a high as she sped along the roads, the harsh beat of Anastacia's latest hit throbbing all around the car, and she knew that there was no turning back now –she wanted to get there –oh God, it was so secretly exciting.

Amanda vaguely knew the name of the road she had been given and, after some wrong turnings and innumerable traffic lights, she eventually passed the end of the avenue she was looking for. It was five to eleven –just right. The road was high class with large, detached houses on either side of the tree lined, wide street. This was not council or tatty terraced places, this was class, wealth, peace and quiet, and Amanda could imagine the quality of the rooms and décor within. She had parked the Clio round the corner and just sat there for a few moments, a final pang of guilt and secrecy waving through her stomach as she took the phone number from her purse. This is it, then, she thought, and nervously tapped the number into her mobile. The phone was answered almost immediately by the same woman as previously.

'Hello, Ann, is that you, I'm so glad you called'. Ann was the first name that had come into Amanda's head –perfectly innocent and innocuous, and she was happy to stick to this easy name. The two women spoke briefly, Amanda getting the number of the house and a quick instruction, and then the conversation was over and Amanda switched her phone completely off. She took a deep breath, looked around her and then alighted from the Clio, put the roof down, and locked it. The butterflies took over her stomach again as she made her way to the end of the avenue she was to turn into.

She looked stunning but smart, a pleated summer dress tight to her contours and just above the knee, worn with a very smart navy blue blazer which gave her the air of someone in authority. Navy blue, strappy, high heels rounded off her ensemble and she was bare legged in the summer sun.

As she passed the first couple of houses in the avenue, she knew straight away that 'her' house would be on this side, evenly numbered and about 10 more along. The front gardens were immaculate and the sun through the trees slung shadows all across the road and pavement. Amanda hardly saw anybody, but her guilt made her think that all the net curtains had someone behind them, furtively watching her make her nervous way to her destiny.

Finally, she could see 'the' house coming up –it was white, detached and looked magnificent. As she got nearer, she could see the immaculate front lawn, the borders of flowers and the solid, black, front door with its huge brass handle. She had been told by the woman to go straight in and there would be a note waiting for her on the hall table The door appeared to creak and shatter the morning quiet as Amanda turned the handle, but it was only her imagination and nervousness once again, and she went into the well decorated hallway and immediately saw the note for her.

'Welcome, Ann. Go into the small lounge on the right and help yourself to the coffee.'

This indeed was a superb house and Amanda peered in the open door on her right to see the settee and the coffee on the little table. She gingerly went in and looked around. She was too nervous for the coffee, but she admired the furniture, the paintings on the walls, the thick carpet and the drapes running all the way down to the floor. The sun shone through the front window, and Amanda's heart was beating nineteen to the dozen, she felt like running out again, all the way back to the car and home. Suddenly she heard footsteps in the hall, coming her way, and she felt like screaming, she was so tense.

'Hello, Ann, it's so nice to see you,' and the woman's smile was genuinely warm and her eyes twinkled, as they held those of Amanda for a second or two.

'I'm Janet, have you had some coffee.' She was about 45, still attractively slim with a fine head of auburn hair, and simply dressed in a shortish black skirt, and black, short-sleeved T-shirt, tightly tucked into her skirt.

'No, no, I haven't. I'm really quite nervous, actually,' replied Amanda and smiled an unusually, shy grin.

'You're a novice, Ann, aren't you, I can tell,' went on Janet. 'By that I mean, I don't mean to pry but, this is your first time, isn't it.'

'Um, um, it is, I'm afraid.'

'Of course, I can tell, you know. Well don't worry, we'll take great care of you, I promise,' and she briefly touched Amanda's arm for reassurance.

'When you go in, just relax completely, and don't worry about anything. If you need to be told anything, it will just be a short instruction which you should obey, and then the process can continue. OK.'

Instruction, Obey, Process. Amanda was being thrilled and frightened already by the very words, and knew that this is what she had come for, what had thrilled her many fantasies, things that she couldn't ever talk about to anyone. She was here now, though, and it was happening. The lovely Janet was reassuring her and leading her gently, speaking openly about the experience that had only been a speck in Amanda's imagination for a very long time. She smiled and nodded nervously at the same time to the attentive Janet.

'Are you ready to go in, then.'

'Um, I suppose so,' Amanda almost whispered, and the moment had come, it was here, now, right upon her.

Janet took Amanda's hand and held it gently as she spoke again.

'You do look very beautiful, Ann, and I'm so glad that your dress is loose around your legs, it's very fetching.' This was just a gentle hint that Janet was taking control of the proceedings, and Amanda too for that matter. Amanda could only smile in reply, but a shiver crept through her body, particularly down in her loins.

'Across the hallway is another door. If you go in, you will see at one end, a large, black, leather chair, facing away from you. Please lean over it, right over it, and then just relax, Ann. OK. The Master will be with you in just a few moments. Oh, and it would be better if you left your blazer in here. It will be quite safe.'

Janet smiled and turned, not waiting for a reply, and in a few seconds she was gone, her footsteps disappearing down the hallway. Amanda stood shaking, excited, frightened, very nervous and breathing heavily.

'The Master' –the very words tantalised her.

She took her blazer off and laid it over her bag on the settee, and then took one last look at herself in the big mirror over the fireplace. She did look attractive and fetching, even though she said so herself. Her short, dark hair was neat but modern, and her firm breasts pushed hard against the flimsy bra and the thin dress, her nipples already aroused from the furtive actions and excitement so far that morning. She made sure that her dress was brushed neatly down the front, and over her bottom, and looked down at her shapely legs and high heels one last time, before turning and crossing to the lounge door.

Out in the hallway she could see the door that Janet had indicated, and made the two or three paces before putting her hand on the handle. She was perspiring and had to grab the handle tightly before it began to turn. As she entered she was stunned by the rooms' beauty and simplicity.

The floor was complete floorboards which had been varnished and polished and were gleaming. There were blinds up at the two windows, open to let the sun stream in, but not enough for anyone to see into the room. It was warm from the sun, and there were logs in the huge, concrete fireplace ready for the first winter fire in a few months. Pictures adorned the walls, but they were erotic drawings and naughty cartoons, tasteful and not pornographic, done in black ink and beautifully framed. The whole room was one given over to naughty eroticism, and, because it was done tastefully, it thrilled Amanda rather than put her off or frightened her.

She could see the leather chair facing the fire at the far end, but she took in all the other decorations beforehand. A pair of ancient, rusting handcuffs were hung from the plain wall as an ornament rather than an instrument, a number of canes of differing sizes were held in a stunning Egyptian vase, about 4ft high, that was in the fireplace, and there were numerous other items dotted around the room, some of which Amanda could not even recognise. There were only two pieces of furniture–- the chair, and at this end of the room, a low stool, about six feet long but only about one foot off the ground. It was sturdy and covered in a wonderful, colourful drape and reminded Amanda of seeing Cleopatra eating grapes from her slaves whilst lying on the stool. It was certainly a fine room which no doubt had been furnished and decorated in line with the 'leisure activities' and predilections of the owners.

Now, however, Amanda suddenly realised that she must concentrate on the matter in hand. She made her way towards the chair, her high heels cracking on the hard floorboards, the silence almost deafening.

The chair was not just any old chair but an expensive piece of furniture, very hard, thick, supple leather, with leather studs pushed into it at various points to hold the leather covering taut across its shape. Amanda ran her fingers across the back of the chair, feeling the quality and the firmness, and she shuddered with thoughts of what it was associated with.

'Oh my goodness, I shouldn't have done this. You silly woman, what are you thinking of?,' but she moved her second hand onto the leather and looked over at the hard, thick arms of the chair, and the comfort that it could no doubt give to any occupant. 'Yes, you've got to do it, you're here now,' and she braced herself and moved closer.

The top of the back of the chair came up to just below Amanda's breasts and she tentatively leaned forward a little, her legs stretching as she could only just reach the arms with her hands.

'Lean over it, right over it,' she had been told, and she knew that this had been the first instruction that had to be obeyed. Amanda lifted her body a little further and then leant over again. This time she could reach the arms and was now able to lay her hands on them quite firmly and comfortably. The chair was so solid that she knew there was no danger of it moving, and now Amanda was positioned just as instructed. She also knew, however, that her legs were stretched and only just touching the floor at the rear, and that her pleated dress had ridden up the backs of her thighs to reveal a stunning amount of shapely leg.

She was almost shaking –'God, what am I doing here, please, please, no, no,' but she didn't move, only trembled with anticipation and fright. She looked down into the seat and could see nothing to her rear, but footsteps suddenly were heard and then the door to the room opened and the footsteps became like prison warders marching along cold, prison corridors.

Amanda trembled, knew that the bottom half of her body was on full view to whoever had entered the room, and knew that all she could do was lay there, waiting.

This was part of what she had fantasised about, though, many times, over and over again. This is what she had phoned up about, what she had dreamt about, even in her schooldays. She had wanted to raise the subject with her husband, many times, but it embarrassed her, and she had never been able to pick a right time and he had never even brought the subject up –perhaps it was taboo with him and she was too frightened to ask, not wanting him to think that she was somehow 'kinky' or perverted.

This was just the way she had wanted to feel, though –frightened yet excited, under command and instruction, waiting,... waiting for...punishment!! Oh God, it was so degrading, but she was so wet between her legs, her little thong was soaking, and for the first time in her married life, she was allowing her clothes to stay pulled up her thighs to show them off, to say 'Here I am, as you instructed, waiting, available for the punishment that I have asked for.'

Christ, she wanted to rub between her legs, to feel her wetness, to get that wonderful feeling that washed over her, when she was alone in her bed at home sometimes. She knew that she couldn't move, however, didn't have a say in what would happen anymore, and just had to grit her teeth and bare it.

There was more than one person approaching her and they were very close now. Amanda gripped the arms of the leather below her very tightly, her nails digging into the chair fiercely.

'Raise the dress please, Janet,' and it was a deep voice that spoke, very deep, but soft and firm.

Probably in its forties thought Amanda, and probably also coming from a very big man, but perhaps that was just her imagination again running away with her. Almost immediately, Amanda felt soft hands on her thighs, and then the hem of her dress was gently raised. She tried to keep her thighs tightly closed together as the material was pulled up and up, over the naked cheeks of her firm bottom, only the thin strip of the thong in between her cheeks saving her modesty somewhat.

On the dress went, up and up, until it was right in the small of Amanda's back, and Janet was tucking it in to itself, so that it held firmly round Amanda's middle and on the top of the chair. More wonderful degradation, Amanda thought, my whole bottom now on view to a complete stranger, a man known as the Master, and his wife or girlfriend, or whoever Janet is, and Amanda's legs were shaking a little now.

Janet moved away and the other feet moved closer to Amanda's rear. 'Now Ann,' came the deep voice once more. 'This is your first lesson isn't it?'

'Yes, yes it is,' she mumbled, trying to sound confident but not succeeding, and she almost jumped as a massive, rugged hand ran across her bottom just once. Enough, though, for Amanda to realise that it was a big man standing behind her, watching her arse quiver and clench at his touch.