Claire heard the door close as Jonathan left the flat. She hesitated, then finally stood up and fondled her bottom tenderly. Jonathan always left her in that humiliating toe-touching position and made her promise to keep absolutely still until he had gone. She longed to look at the masterpiece he had created on the cheeks of her behind.
Claire rushed to the bathroom to view its glory. Her deep green eyes widened as she saw the beautiful display before her in the mirror. Jonathan really was a true artist as the state of her bottom testified. As she stood in only black suede high heels, her long bronzed legs seemed to go on forever. She flicked back her long dark hair as if to take in the full beauty of herself. But time was creeping on and she had a million and one things to do this afternoon. Jonathan’s swift lunchtime visit had put her all behind in more ways than one!
Over the past six weeks Claire and Jonathan had shared many CP sessions which had been very exciting and exhilarating for both of them. There was rarely any sex in their relationship and Jonathan’s visits were usually brief. He was a very busy and successful broker at the company by which Claire was employed.
Claire bathed in a deep bubble bath, feeling the pain in her bottom with every movement she made, and closing her eyes she recalled the special moment when the tawse came thwacking down on her tender behind. Her breathing quickened and her mind raced. She dried herself, some parts more delicately than others, then began to dress. She pulled on a pair of cream French knickers, added a matching bra and, as coup de grace, a fawn-coloured button-through dress which came just above her knees.
The silk material of her knickers felt cool and sensuous against her burning bottom. The throbbing had not subsided; on the contrary, it felt more intense as her adrenaline diminished. Her nipples were erect and they rubbed against the lace bra, making them so hard they were impossible to miss as they pointed out through the thin cotton dress. Claire slipped on some tan heels and glanced at herself in her full-length bedroom mirror. She looked good, her firm full figure shining through the dress as though it were transparent. She touched her recently-punished bottom and felt the heat, the heat that started in the masterpiece on her behind and flowed out to the tips of her fingers and the ends of her toes. This was the feeling that Claire loved; she was on cloud nine and glowing with happiness. She picked up her handbag and headed for the door.
Once outside, she walked down the road towards the Tube station. She could not remove the grin from her face as she passed people in the street. The burning in her rear was foremost in her mind and she felt that the strangers she passed must know of her encounter. Men and women looked at her in the street anyway, as she was unquestionably a sight to be admired. But on days like today she felt really naughty and excited to think of the dramatic spectacle hidden beneath her dress. Claire thoroughly enjoyed the Tube journey to the West End, as people brushed past her glowing buttocks. She felt very sensual and erotic and oozed sex appeal as she walked up the escalator pushing out her bottom with every step.
Claire had taken the day off work since her friend was getting married at the weekend and she needed to buy a new outfit for the wedding. So clothes-shopping was now the main event of the day. She wandered around for about an hour, browsing and contemplating, but nothing really grabbed her attention apart from the burning sensation that spread through her rear. Then a peach dress and jacket in the window of a large store on Oxford Street caught her eye, and she went inside. She asked an assistant to help her find what she wanted and then headed for the communal changing-room. The rectangular space was lined with wall-to-wall mirrors and there were hooks on the walls every three to four feet apart. Claire hung up the jacket and dress and started unbuttoning her dress while looking around her. There were only four other women in the dressing-room, all in their early twenties except for one very reserved-looking lady in her forties.
Claire turned away from the mirror and slowly removed her dress, pushing her body upwards so that her bottom rested on the glass. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking in the pure harmony of her burning cheeks and the ice-cold glass. She quickly turned around to face the mirror, observing the other women behind her whilst admiring her own reflection in bra and knickers. She removed the peach-and-gold weave dress from the hanger and as she bent down to step into it, her consciousness of the marks on her bottom became overwhelming. She knew the other women could see them, popping out from beneath her underwear, but she bent deeply over with great pride. She felt very hot as she squeezed the dress on to her 5’8” bronzed frame. The dress was perfect and the tastefully-cut jacket gave the finishing touch to the outfit. It came to the waist and emphasised her beautiful rear which protruded fully below the hem, impossible to overlook.
As two of the girls left the changing-room, the elder lady praised Claire on her choice and said how pretty it looked. Claire removed the jacket and as she eased the dress down over her hips her underwear disappeared with the dress to the floor, revealing her full glory. The excitement of showing herself off to the woman was immense. The seconds felt like hours and she became quite moist between her thighs.
Claire looked at the woman whilst she salvaged her knickers from around her ankles, bending over with her long legs straight and her bottom stretched to the fullest, extending every line the tawse had created to its utmost. The woman smiled nervously and seemed quite embarrassed as she turned away, fumbling to return the items she had tried on to their hangers.
Claire rubbed her hands over her bottom as she dressed, then full of cheeky excitement took the dress and jacket to the cash desk to pay.
Claire left the shop and strode off along the busy street towards the Tube station. She was happy to get out into the fresh air because the heat was welling up inside her more than ever. As she stood on the platform waiting for her train she noticed a couple of lads having a good look at her and chuckling to each other. She smiled at them and noticed how hard and prominent her nipples had grown. She felt as if she were standing naked and everybody could see her excitement at being watched. When the train pulled in, people moved to the edge of the crowded platform hoping to find a place to sit or even a space to stand. The two lads squeezed in behind Claire as she boarded the train. She could feel their bodies pressing up behind her and hot breath on the back of her neck. Well, at least she thought it was them, but she was not going to turn around and have a look…
The packed train started and Claire felt the pressure behind her increase. She held on to the rail above her head. She felt a very firm hand squeeze her right buttock, which sent pure fire through her entire body. She had been fondled on the Tube before, but never like this. Usually it was a quick brush or push as if by accident, but this hand was really risking it. Claire found herself wriggling gently in reaction, tightly gripping the rail attached to the ceiling of the carriage. Wriggling, not to shake off the hand, but letting herself go. Her left buttock was now being squeezed hard as well. These guys must have thought they’d hit the jackpot — Claire wouldn’t normally encourage this sort of thing, but it felt so good she could not help herself. She pushed her bottom out and opened her legs slightly, taking in the full excitement of the naughty experience. Two stops had passed and now both her bottom and thighs were being mauled. Her body was writhing on their unseen hands.
The train doors opened behind her and lots of people got off. Claire turned to see her fondlers but they were lost in the crowd, gone forever. Finally it was her station and Claire was thrilled at the thought of being back at home. She could not wait to take her dress off and admire her masterpiece.
Indoors, Claire hung her new outfit in the wardrobe, kicked off her shoes and slipped out of her dress. She stood looking in the bedroom mirror, barefoot and wearing only her French knickers. She sinfully removed them, watching herself carefully, not daring to breathe. The sight was amazing: only hours had passed and already the picture was changing. She reached for the cold cream and started to massage her beautiful buttocks. Her fingers were so sensitive at first to the corrugated surface, but she just could not stop them deeply caressing her hot marks. Then, as she flicked her hair back off her face, she removed one hand from her bottom-cheek and delved it deep into her moistness. She squeezed her bottom until it was on fire, burning almost as intensely as when Jonathan had walked out of the door earlier that day. She had brought the whole event flourishing back as she closed her eyes and wallowed in her own special entity.
The wedding was quite a quiet affair with only very close friends and family invited. Claire looked radiant in her new outfit and apart from the stunning bride she was the belle of the ball. She stood with a glass of champagne in her hand, making polite conversation with people she hardly knew.
Claire excused herself and headed for the ladies. There she spread her hands firmly against her once again smooth buttocks and visualised the large marked area which lay beneath. It had been three days since Jonathan’s visit and although the intensity of the moment had subsided and the masterpiece had faded, the event remained crystal clear in her mind. It always did, and Claire made fond use of her memories. Each experience of chastisement seemed to have a different effect on her, but it was never less than extra-special. As a woman entered the bathroom Claire awoke from her daydream and, smiling broadly, returned to the reception.
Claire looked around to see if Jonathan had arrived yet. He said he would try to make it, if he didn’t have to work too late. Claire reached for another glass of champagne and nibbled tenderly on a vol-au-vent. Suddenly, as if thinking about him had made him appear, Jonathan made a grand entrance laden with a large beautifully-wrapped gift for the happy couple. He looked his usual charming and sophisticated self, dressed in a tailored dark grey suit, expensive black leather shoes and a crisp white shirt. Claire watched intently as he moved his six-foot frame with sheer grace, running his neatly manicured hands through his thick black shiny hair. After talking to the newlyweds Jonathan spotted Claire and made a beeline for her.
‘You look beautiful,’ he said, staring at her with his deep brown eyes. ‘You’re looking quite slick yourself!’ was Claire’s cheeky reply.
‘I’m sorry it’s so late but I just couldn’t get things finished today and I had some shopping to do. Have I got a present for you! You’re going to love it,’ Jonathan said, grabbing at Claire’s bottom and pulling her towards him.
‘What is it?’ she asked, sexily smiling from ear to ear.
‘Later, later. You’ll see,’ replied Jonathan, winking at her.
Claire hated being kept in suspense. She could not wait and wanted to leave right away. She mingled with the guests, making her apologies and saying her goodbyes.
‘Let’s go then!’ said Claire sternly and with great keenness.
They made their way out across the gravel car park towards Jonathan’s bright red Jaguar. He opened the door for Claire, like the perfect gentleman he was, and her bottom sank deep into the beige leather seat. She looked at him with those beautiful green eyes, which he could never resist, longing to see what he had bought for her. Jonathan reached behind to the back seat and gave her a long brown parcel.
‘I thought it would be a nice ornament for your coffee table!’ he said with a smirk on his face.
Claire opened it frantically — to reveal a long, swishy cane. She felt a tingle in her rear at the thought of Jonathan caning her tender cheeks.
‘I suppose we’d better get going then,’ she said sensually, giving him a small peck on the cheek.
Claire’s mind was a million miles away during the thirty-minute drive to her flat. She had never been caned before, but had no feeling of apprehension. She couldn’t wait to experience the cane. Her heart was already beating fast and she was glowing all over. She felt a trust in Jonathan that made him the perfect person to cane her. He was always very firm with her but also astonishingly caring about her feelings and acute to her unspoken needs. He was such an adept administrator of her chastisement! What an experience she was going to encounter, and what a masterpiece she would have to fondle and look at tomorrow and the next day, and the next…
Once inside her flat Jonathan made himself at home while Claire undressed in the bedroom, her tension rising to an incredible height. He always liked to punish her naked apart from high heels, and in this presentation she felt at her most vulnerably exposed and erotic. Claire was so excited. She had always wanted to find out what the cane felt like, but had never met anyone in whom she had enough faith to submit to this ultimate instrument. Until Jonathan…
Claire looked at herself in the mirror. She had goose-pimples from head to foot, her nipples were hard and erect, her breathing was short. The time had come for her to make her grand entrance. Her long legs looked amazing in just high heels and Jonathan’s eyes lit up as she opened the lounge door. He took great pride in her beauty and her strength, and never more so than now. He beckoned her towards him and kissed her passionately, then pulled away from her and smiled. Turning to pick up the cane, which he had placed on the coffee table, he ordered Claire to stand four feet away from the wall, facing it. As she obeyed, Claire began to feel really nervous though it was impossible to distinguish her apprehension from her excitement.
‘Keep your legs very straight and press the palms of your hands against the wall,’ Jonathan said in a firm, confident tone. ‘Arch your back to the utmost and push your bottom up.’ Claire exulted in her obedience, and sighed as his fingertips delicately caressed her postured bottom. She felt very sexual and knew that he could see her moistness which pleased him so well.
Claire stood as still as possible and tried to control her breathing and relax her muscles. She felt the coldness of the cane as Jonathan tapped it gently against her out-thrust buttocks. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
The first stroke came swishing down and bit into her tender skin loudly. Claire screwed up her face and tightened every muscle in her body in a spasm of reaction. The second stroke cracked home and she drew in a sharp intake of breath. The third bounced off her flesh with a loud swack and her right leg jerked up. Each sting was like a lightning-bolt, shocking all other thoughts clean out of her consciousness. She heard the next stroke swish through the air with great force, and heard the report as the flying tip of the cane met her buttocks, which were now suddenly burning with a most intense fire. It was a much stronger heat, a far sharper pain than she had ever felt before and she had a strange need inside, she needed the fire to spread and to spread the heat to its very limit. She needed to be caned more and without a break between strokes! She had already set herself a pace internally and was going to stick to it, whatever.
After two more strokes Jonathan paused and Claire looked back at him over her left shoulder, smiling and breathing hard and fast.
‘More, my darling?’ he asked.
‘Please,’ she answered almost impatiently.
‘Spread your legs and touch the floor!’ came Jonathan’s urgent reply.
Claire obeyed, displaying her scarlet-striped bottom beautifully, and blatantly disclosing her arousal. Jonathan ran his fingertips over her already bumpy curves, which made her flinch slightly. Then he began to cane her again, quickening the pace so that the next three strokes came crashing down. Claire’s widely-parted legs were as straight as she could hold them, her tautened bottom stretched to its fullest extent and her hair cascaded towards the carpet where her hands pressed down midway between her stiletto shoes. Her eyes were closed and she was in her dream world, a world of ecstasy where all her feminine qualities came to a peak as the intense heat took over her whole body. She was on her cloud nine again.
The next loving caress of the cane made both her legs buckle, but Claire quickly composed herself and pushed her bottom up high to meet the furiously biting sting. Jonathan stared, eyes open wide at the glory of his angry masterpiece and knew that she would be eager to share his appreciation of his work. Gathering himself together he put all his strength into the last stroke and watched as the cane flashed towards Claire’s bottom and then danced off again. After that final crack she stayed down in her bent-over, legs-spread position, panting and taking in the awesome sensations that were well and truly possessing her now. Not a word was said as Jonathan placed the cane on the coffee table with a clatter and put on his jacket, quite unable to avert his eyes from Claire’s fiery bottom. He squatted down behind her and kissed her cheeks gently, then headed for the door.
Claire’s heart was beating so fast she had to take deep, heavy breaths to stop her head spinning. She heard the front door close as Jonathan left and felt the pulsing heat still building up with every incredible second that passed. She maintained her posture with rigid tension, waiting submissively until she was certain that Jonathan really had gone before moving a muscle. And then, she could not wait to see the new masterpiece he had created on the cheeks of her behind…