Back in the flat, I glued the two pieces of cut leather together with rubberised glue, which is flexible when set. It took two days to allow the aromatic smell of the glue to disperse. At the haberdashery shop, I asked them to stitch around the edges to prevent the two halves from splitting apart.
One of them asked, “What’s it for?”
“I hope it will help us beat gold leaf onto experiments, which will go in satellites or rockets into outer space. The leather should be flexible enough to assist us in wrapping gold leaf or foil around curved surfaces, which will solve problems we have been having.”
They didn’t know any different and did as I requested without a murmur, which I thought would be the case. There was only a nominal charge, as it took only five minutes to do.
They sold three millimetres diameter leather cord, and I bought three six-foot lengths of it. They didn’t ask questions, and I had what I needed to make a longer martinet. Each flogger cord was a two-foot length, with nine of them tied together and secured by three closely spaced knots at one end. These would fit in the hand. When I swished my bare bum with the finished article, I wondered if I could handle a hard flogging with it! Be careful of what you wish for, I later found out!
The next Friday afternoon, I visited a well-known sex shop where I bought a ball gag, twenty feet of soft restraint rope, a bullet vibrator and a set of leather wrist and ankle cuffs. These went into my overnight bag. I studied for a while and had an early night because I wanted to be ready to leave after breakfast the next morning to go to see Phil.
On Saturday morning, I arrived at his nearby train station at ten-thirty. Phil collected me and we went home. After a kiss and cuddle, Phil said, “The spanking bench is ready for us to fit the waterproof leatherette covering. I’ve glued down the foam padding already. Shall we get on with it, please?”
“Why not? We can’t use it until it’s finished!”
It took us an hour to trim and tack down the leatherette covering, and the bench was ready. Phil said, “It’s my turn first.”
I said, “We haven’t planned our weekend, beyond finishing the bench.”
Phil said, “It’s nearly midday and lovely weather, so why don’t we do the usual and head to a country pub for lunch, and then take a walk?”
“Great, let’s do that.”
We drove to the same pub we had visited shortly after we met. After lunch, we went for a two-hour walk along a Downs trail and then drove back to Phil’s place.
“Phil, I feel so horny and guilty!”
“OK, what would you like me to do and why do you feel guilty?”
“Why don’t you give me twelve strokes of the thin cane, and then try out my new long-strand flogger? It surely inconvenienced you when I shook you out of your former life. It was presumptuous and naughty of me, and I deserve a sound thrashing for it. Worst of all, I will admit, I planned to approach you and I sometimes feel guilty about it, and for guilt, there is bottom thrashing.”
I got out the new flogger. Phil gasped. “I will cane you and give you a taste of the new flogger, but I’m bothered it will sting like all hell. You haven’t inconvenienced me. Look what excellent things you have done in my life!”
“Yes, that’s the idea. I want to try for forty-eight strokes with it and hard, so I am satiated in terms of ‘spanking’ for the next three weeks. I’m so happy that I’ve improved your sex life.
With Phil in my arms, I said, “Let’s not go over the top about this. I’m so happy to be with you. The ‘spanking’ side is a secondary thing, but it is so important to me. Without it, I would not be happy. I know I’m naughty and that’s one reason I want forty-eight strokes of the new flogger, no matter how painful. Another reason I want them is so that I will have a very sore bum in the run-up to the end-of-term exams.”
“I need to concentrate on my studies for the next two weeks. A sore bum will help enormously. Darling, I’m lucky enough that you can scratch my itch. Imagine if I turned my back on it, and got involved with someone who would not scratch the itch. I would have been so unhappy. I know it sounds a little selfish, but it wouldn’t be good for either of us.”
“Darling, shall we get cleaned up and you beat the hell out of me first? Once I have a sore bum, I will be ready to drain your balls. Have you been keeping in practice by masturbating, please?”
“Yes, I have. I fantasised about you, sex and caning. It makes me so horny, and when I shoot my load, I feel so much better.”
“Good. There’s too much misery in this life. Be happy. Let me freshen up and we can get at it, darling.”
I got ready in the bathroom and then laid a bath towel on the spanking bench. The bench stood on another bath towel in case anyone lying on the bench ‘leaked’ during spanking or sex! The old and new floggers and the canes were ready on the table. I picked up the thin cane, and lying on the bench, bum in the air, I said, “Twelve strokes please, moderately hard and fast. It will ‘warm me up.’”
“I thought you wanted the new flogger?”
“Yes, I do, but when I saw the little cane, I fancied a few strokes from it!”
He laughed, and said, “OK, here it comes.”
‘Tap-tap crack.’
“Ouch.”
That heavenly, white-hot sting across my rump! My pussy was leaping about in response! I have been so lucky. The twelve strokes were soon over, and I stayed draped over the bench.
“Phil, please try the new flogger on me, but make sure that it doesn’t wrap by checking where the cords will land. Try to stand in the same place as you did when you were caning me because the cords are almost the same length as the thin cane. Don’t give me the first stroke too hard in case it wraps.”
He picked up the flogger and swished it through the air. ‘Oh dear, I don’t like the sound of that,’ I thought.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
‘Swish crack.’ There was a second of numbness, and then a searing pain shot across my bum, which set fire to the cane marks and took my breath away.
Somehow, I said, “One.”
“Ready?”
I nodded.
‘Swish crack.’ Stroke number two arrived as an agonising sting. Whatever had I created with this new flogger?
“Two,” I whispered.
“Ready?”
It carried on like this until somehow I made it to twelve strokes. This brought me to the limit of my endurance, if not restrained.
I said, “Stop, please.”
I frantically rubbed my aching, burning bum, which was in way more pain than I had known in the past. It was much worse than the thirty-six stroke caning I had received.
Phil said, “Red, ridged welts cover your bottom, but there are no cuts to the skin.”
As with the shorter flogger, the pain decreased rapidly. It appears to be that the floggers do not cause the bruising typical of a hard caning, but the initial skin stimulus is more painful.
“Phil, I have to take at least twenty-four of the flogger. Let me put on the wrist and ankle cuffs for you to secure me to the bench, because I can’t control myself without restraints.”
I put on the four cuffs, cut four lengths of rope, and Phil tied these to circular eyes fitted to the bench. “Darling, give me twelve more with the new flogger, and no matter how much I protest, or how much noise I make, please don’t stop.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I need to be taken past my limit this time, and we can see how it goes once you have given me the next twelve strokes.”
“OK, are you ready?”
“Yes, give me thirty seconds between strokes, please.”
‘Swish crack,’
I gave a yell and tugged at my bonds. Being tied helped me, because I did not have to put effort into staying in place, and the effort of tugging at my bonds distracted me from the awful pain.
‘Swish crack,’ on my tight bottom, and with more yelling and tugging on my part, Phil, to his credit, ignored it and carried on.
After seven or eight strokes, I was drifting into what I now recognise as ‘sub-space,’ as the pain took on a more sexual dimension.
By the time Phil reached the twelfth stroke, I knew I could take more, so, “Please, keep going,” I begged.
“OK.”
He carried on. I wondered if he was taking it easier because the pain of each stroke felt less than it had earlier. After the twenty-fourth stroke of this set, he stopped and said, “I think you have had enough. Your bum is in quite a mess and I don’t want to carry on.”
With the ending of the flogging of my bum, I came out of sub-space and the pain flooded back. I had taken thirty-six strokes with the flogger, and I wanted to take forty-eight.
“What does my bum look like, please?”
“There is no bleeding, but it’s a mass of red ridged welts, which look raw in places where they cross over.”
“I want twelve more strokes, please.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, please. If I’m not bleeding, I need to satisfy myself.”
He gave me twelve more strokes and I’m sure he eased off on the force, but it was still agonising beyond belief. Despite the pain, I had a series of orgasms. Phil was untying me from the bench, and he helped me up. My bum was on fire, twitching with a life of its own, and I was aware of a terrible stinging pain. My pussy was shaking with the orgasmic aftershocks.
The wooden chair was in the room, and I sat on it with my flogged bum. The pain was severe, and I forced myself to suffer it for a few minutes. I had always sat on my thrashed arse straight away after a caning and I needed to carry on with the practice in honour of my father. It did me so much good.
In the mirror, it shocked me to see the extent of the raw, red welts which covered my bottom, but it was precisely what I needed. The flogger had done the trick and I would need no more ‘punishment’ for a few weeks, but what would it feel like to sit on the loo? So I went to the bathroom. First contact with the loo seat was severely painful, but the pain reduced if I sat still. Phil looked horrified.
I rinsed the welts in the shower and carefully dried them, and I got back over the bench.
“Phil, give it to me doggy fashion.”
“OK, I’m so horny at the sight of your sore bum twitching away.”
Phil entered me from behind. It was like an iron bar being driven into me and as he rubbed against the welts, whilst painful, the sensation was incredibly erotic. Sex after sixty strokes was an erotic event without equal, and we had an enormous mutual orgasm. As promised, I had drained his balls and was dripping a mixture of his cum and my fluids onto the towel on which the bench stood. The design of the bench, with our thoughtful addition of the cutaway area, was excellent. Too many commercial spanking benches lack the cutaway.
In the shower, I cleaned his cum out of my pussy!
On the bed, holding my legs apart in the diaper position, I handed the little pussy spanker to Phil.
“Please, give me some light, slow taps on my pussy because I want to know what it feels like. The spoon end is the bit that needs to land on me.”
“OK.”
I lifted my legs into the diaper position and held them apart. Phil gently tapped my pussy with my little homemade spanking device. My clitoris reacted strongly to it and I loved the feeling. This new stimulus moved my senses away from the feelings in my bum, and I knew I needed sex. The pussy spanker exceeded expectations. This light ‘spanking’ of my pussy aroused him, and he was erect and hard. For those who like it, spanking is one of the strongest aphrodisiacs.
“Phil, give it to me, please.”
I was in an excellent position for a good screwing and he got onboard. My pussy was already in lively activity and it was squeezing his dick. We had another enormous mutual orgasm within twenty seconds. He stayed hard inside me for as long as he could, and the sensations were heavenly. The combination of flogging me, playing with the pussy spanker and the general horny atmosphere had got to Phil!
My bum was sore and hot. I laid on the bed bum-up to cool the heat in it. Pain dominated my psyche at that moment, with the wonderful feelings in my genitalia running a close second. In my thoughts, I knew the pain was my recognition of the help my father, mother, Arthur, and Phil had given me. They had understood that I was different, were tolerant of the fact, and had helped me out.
Thanks to my deceased father, who started me on the wonderful path, they were still helping me out. There was an obligation for me to justify their acceptance of my foibles. A sore, flaming bottom would stiffen my resolve in a way that nothing else could. I hoped Phil got as much out of it as I did and if his sexual performance was indicative; I’m sure he did.
“Phil, please finger my G-spot and play with my clitoris.”
“Sure, darling. You are such a tough one. You made a lot of noise, but not a tear. Darling, as I finger you, please can you let me know when I am on target? I can feel an area of harder tissue in the front side of your pussy and I’m assuming it’s your G spot. If you can direct me up, down, left or right, it might increase your pleasure.”
“Love, that’s great. You care so much. One thing though. When you kiss my clitoris, please, can you get its tip between your teeth? Don’t bite it at all hard, but please give it a gentle nibble. It drives me crazy and I love it so much.”
Phil set to work on my pussy. I have read opinions that spanking increases the blood flow in the pelvic area, and enhances the response of nerve endings. Thanks to Phil’s efforts, I had multiple orgasms.
“Up a bit. Tap the spot with your finger. Ah, yes, that’s it.”
My pussy was squeezing his finger. He was tapping my G spot and nibbling the tip of my clitoris. I always wonder what a brain wave scan taken then would have looked like. It might have broken the machine!
“Phil, my love, giving me the discipline I need and then all this. It’s the best thing in the world. What can I do for you, please?”
“Do you feel strong enough to get on your feet, cane, and then flog me, please?”
“Give me ten minutes, please, love to gather strength. I will sit on the wooden chair again for a couple of minutes. The sensations in my bum will stimulate me. How hard do you want it and how many strokes of the flogger, please?”
“Please, can you give me twelve strokes of the thin cane and twelve strokes of the flogger? I don’t have your iron constitution, and perhaps I can’t take too many strokes of the flogger. But I need to know what it feels like. You said, ‘If you can’t take it, don’t give it,’ and I must go some of the way to proving that.”
I stood up from the wooden chair, hugged him, kissed him, and grabbed at his dick.
“Phil, in the past, when I caned you, I noticed your erection faded during the caning, but within minutes of the finish of the caning, it returned harder than ever.”
“Yes, the shock wave of pain following the impact of the cane kills my erection, but when the wonderful afterglow starts, it returns harder than ever.”
After a last kiss and stroking of his dick, Phil mounted the bench. I picked up the thin cane and gave him the first stroke after the usual warning. He gasped, and his gluteal muscles worked overtime. I waited for him to relax and gave him the second hard stroke. Red tram line marks appeared on his bum. My aim was improving, and I gave him ten strokes before a mark overlapped. Overlapping a mark always causes a scream from Phil!
