I spent a little over a year working in a Southeast Asia country, looking after a major project for my company. It was close to the time when I could hand it over to local colleagues and go home. I viewed this with dismay, but a grateful company was letting me hang on there for a few months, partly as a present for doing a good job.

Completion of the project was required by a certain date. We were likely to achieve it. The Company was leaving me out there as an ‘insurance policy’ until project delivery. I had other things to do for them. Fortunately, while I was still there, another project arrived without warning. This was a great help.

Shortly after I arrived, I was looking for some pleasant company. The ‘lady bar’ scene did not appeal. Although otherwise unattached, I was not looking for a permanent arrangement. I was hoping to find a local friend and let matters head wherever they might.

One of my in-country UK friends had a local girlfriend whom I had met a few times. I was at a party when this young woman arrived with her girlfriend. As I looked at her, she put her head a little to one side and gave me a lovely smile.

That was it; our eyes met, and we found a quiet corner and chatted. Typically, for the country in question, she soon talked about her background. In local terms, she had a slightly unusual background. Her mother was a Christian from a remote area. Her father was a local man from the majority racial group in the country.

She was a stunning beauty, with curly hair from her mother’s side, the typical skin tones of the country and perfect teeth. Lisa was part owner and manager of a little boutique. She soon moved in with me.

Over the following months, we had a lovely time together, going out for meals, swimming, playing a bit of golf and having lots of sex. We had a good sex life, if somewhat limited. I hoped Lisa would accept a bit of an increase in her sexual repertoire. I thought it best to take my time.

Lisa did not seem to know about the G spot before I came along, and I enlightened her. It did a lot for our relationship. Lisa was inquisitive and asked me if I knew anything about the G spot.

I found material on the internet about the location of the G spot. I made scans of the visuals of this material and showed them to her. Lisa, with no encouragement from me, lay naked on the bed exploring herself while she looked at the diagrams, etc. What a girl!

I got her into biofeedback with a finger in her vagina to improve the tone and control of her pelvic floor muscles. Lisa loved that; she would do it in front of me and often achieve orgasm. I think she had a bit of the exhibitionist in her!

One weekend, we had one of our rare arguments. The project at work was at a critical stage. On a Friday afternoon, a technical problem kept me in the office until about eight p.m.

Why do these things always happen on a Friday afternoon? I rang Lisa and warned her I would be very late for the fashion show. She was displaying some of the latest wares of her boutique at a show in a big hotel.

I had earlier sent my driver with the car to take her and her boutique offerings to the fashion show at the hotel. Lisa called me on her mobile to let me know everything was OK. She sounded just a little subdued on the phone.

I had to resolve the technical problem before I could leave for the fashion show. At eight pm, I left the office. It took me forty-five minutes in the heavy evening traffic, although I was only about three miles from the hotel.

When I arrived, the show was almost over and the assembled company was getting ready to leave. Lisa came up and looked just a little down in the mouth. I did not get my usual kiss.

We cleared up and put Lisa’s display into the car, and drove her back to the boutique. We unloaded and went back to the apartment. Lisa was cool and distant throughout all this, and I wondered what was up.

As soon as we were through the front door, she started, “Why were you so late? You weren’t there to support me; I had told my friends you would be there, etc.” It was the loss of face for her, unfortunately, not being able to show me off a bit.

I could not get annoyed. Lisa admitted that she had booked good sales for her new lines. I had helped her out by financing her part of it, with free transport, the use of my excellent digital SLR camera, etc. I thought a conciliatory approach was much better than a row, so I took her in my arms and cuddled her up to me.

“Lisa,” I began, “I’m sorry, but I just could not get away with that problem going on. These problems always happen at inconvenient moments and in the last seven months, it’s the first time I have been late for anything. Please forgive me. Why don’t we go tomorrow and get one of those lovely Italian trouser suits that you like so much?”

Lisa looked me in the eye and smiled. It had worked, thank goodness.

“Jim,” she replied, “I’m sorry. I don’t have the right to give you a hard time. You are a good boy, and I’m a naughty girl.”

I thought she had a point. So I said jokingly, “Would you like to see what the English do to naughty girls when they deserve it?”

“Yes,” she said playfully, “Do it!”

I got her into the bedroom and helped her out of her clothes as fast as possible. I sat on the dressing table chair and turned around to face the room.

Lisa looked a little puzzled. “Come here!” I commanded.

Lisa walked over. I grabbed her, put her over my knee and hand-spanked her golden botty. This took her by surprise and there were squeals and yelps. I gave her about ten moderate slaps on her bottom before I stopped. Lisa shot to her feet a little red in the face and rubbed frantically at her bottom.

She looked annoyed. I stood up and got out of my clothes. Lisa looked rather reproachfully at me, so I took her in my arms again and kissed her hard on the mouth. Those warm little arms went around and a leg curled around me.

We both needed a shower. I led the way into the bathroom and Lisa sat on the loo, trying to shoo me away. Until now, I had been a good boy, doing nothing to embarrass her. I stayed to see what happened.

“Daddy needs to see if little Lisa pees nicely!” I half-joked.

I discovered later that peeing in front of a boyfriend or husband was quite normal for local girls once they knew you well. Lisa declined to meet my eye. I heard the sounds of peeing, so she was not embarrassed.

When she finished, I grabbed a tissue and wiped her vulva for her. She gave me a little smile. I got her to stand up, and for the first time, directed her over to the bidet. As she sat on it, I kissed her again.

I got the bidet running and gave her vulva and ass a thorough wash. Lisa sat there in silence, punctuated by little shivers and sighs as the bidet spray played on her clitoris. Lisa would refer to her clitoris as her ‘wet peanut’ i.e. ‘Please kiss my wet peanut’.

I did not need to be asked to do that and with Lisa turned around facing me on the bidet; I gave her labia and clit a good sucking while I fingered her G spot.

Lisa said, “Who is naughty now? I love doing that on the bidet; it is an amazing piece of china!”

Things were getting much better. When I finished, we showered together, and then I helped her to dry, finally leading her to bed.

Lisa was still shaking from the orgasms she experienced from oral attention. Her labia were dark pink and engorged, and her clit stood up. She was so ready for it. We went at it first in the time-honoured missionary position and then in doggy fashion, which seems to be a favourite in her part of the world.

Once in bed together, I thought a little chat was in order. We were both satiated. I wondered if she had the energy for a chat whilst in post-coital bliss.

“Lisa, darling,” I began. “I hope it didn’t hurt too much when I used my hand on your botty. You had been a little naughty and now you I forgive you. You are a good girl again.”

Lisa reached over, kissed me and a little tear appeared.

“Jim, it didn’t hurt much. When I was a girl, after I was sixteen, I used to be caned with the rotan (the local name for the cane) by my mother and at school. I got it a few times. What you did tonight was nothing like that. I know I was a little naughty, and I deserved it.”

I was just amazed. Lisa had never mentioned this before, and I had avoided anything that I thought she might not like. I was into spanking and did not know how to bring it up with Lisa.

She had arrived at my side in what seemed like one of life’s minor miracles. I gently stroked her face.

“Lisa,” I asked, “How did you feel after they beat you with the rotan?”

Lisa replied, “It was awful. It was so painful. I cried and cried.”

She looked down for a moment. Then she said, “But when I was seventeen, a couple of hours later, as the pain decreased, it made me feel sexy. I didn’t realise right away that the rotan caused the sexy feeling.”

“Did you ever want to try it again?” I asked, trying not to sound too keen.

Lisa responded, “No, I couldn’t stand it. I won’t take it again.” There was a pause. “But what you did just now was lovely.”

A little hand came down and stroked my rock-hard erection. I switched off the bedside light and we had another session, oh to be young.

After we separated and cuddled up, Lisa said, “Tomorrow, please do that again. Hit my bottom with your hand. What do you call it in English?”

"We call it ‘spanking’,” I replied, “and I will do it again for you Darling.” There had been a pleasant change in our relationship and drifted into sleep thinking about where it might lead.

Lisa was well aware of her sexuality and was ready to follow her desires and even lead without flaunting it. About ten years before, I had a relationship with an older woman who enjoyed spanking. Her much older husband was not in good health and could not satisfy her sexual desires. This woman had several spanking and sex sessions with me.

One of the milder and homemade spanking items we made use of was a little four-stranded martinet made from two leather bootlaces. I would double the bootlaces over in my hand to make a little four-stranded whip. It is a type of martinet, of course.

This little martinet, when not used too hard on the bottom of an errant woman, would leave little thin red welts. The woman would usually give a physical response to the sharp little sting.

My ten years previous woman friend, who liked this item, told me it felt like a milder version of the cane. Sampling its effects on the receiving end, I agreed.

Mindful of this, the next day, I visited a shoe repair shop near the office and bought two round-section leather laces for use, hopefully, that very evening.

Lisa came in on time that evening, looking a little elated but still demure. “Let’s shower quickly and go out and get that trouser suit for you as promised,” I said.

 We both showered quickly. Lisa, with a radiant smile, had changed into a lovely floral dress with her hair in a clip. I put on a favourite Batik shirt.

We got into the car and went down to her favourite shopping centre, emerging about fifteen minutes later with Lisa changing into the trouser suit. We headed back to our favourite bar for a drink. Lisa could show off to any of her mates who might be there.

After a drink, Lisa took my hand and said, “We are getting into bad habits. Let’s go home.”

Back home, Lisa looked radiant, being so pleased with the present, which with a couple of gins had done the trick. She carefully took off the trouser suit, stripped naked, washed on the bidet, good girl, and lay on the bed.

She looked cheekily at me and said, “You have been a good boy. You must spank me now!”

I got out the bootlaces. By cutting each lace in half, I had made them into the four-strand martinet, which I showed her.

“Darling, please may I try this on your botty, but not too hard?”

Lisa looked a bit alarmed. I stroked her face and she rather anxiously said, “If I tell you to stop, you must.”

“Of course, if it’s too much, just say ‘stop’ and I will stop,” I replied.

I helped to get her over onto her face and put two pillows under her tummy. She was squeaky clean, so I went down on her, licking her clitoris and labia. I got her clitoris between my teeth and gently nibbled. It was like giving her an electric shock.

She squealed and writhed about. I let it go from my teeth but held it between my lips, sucking and licking it. I eventually stopped. She was panting for breath and I could see her clitoris and outer vagina in orgasmic motion. As Lisa calmed herself, I let the martinet strands rest on her bottom.

I said, “Here comes the first stroke.”

I lifted the martinet and brought it down gently. The martinet strands made a light noise in the air and a little thin “crick” as they landed on her bottom. Lisa jerked involuntarily and gave a little gasp. I thought I would check that she could handle it, so I got down close to her and kissed her cheek.

“Are you OK, Darling?” I asked.

Lisa looked at me and gave me a little smile. “Yes, that’s fine, a little sting and I can feel it afterwards, and I like that.”

“OK,” I said, “let’s try a few more slowly.”

I gave her a second slightly harder stroke, which got a reaction very similar to the first. Rubbing her bottom until she relaxed, I gave her a third stroke. Throughout her spanking, I murmured words of endearment and encouragement, telling her what a brave and lovely girl she was.

We carried on like this until she had received six strokes, slowly increasing the force with each stroke. Number six was fairly hard, and Lisa gave a little yelp and squirmed about. It was time to stop and give her bottom a good massage whilst I talked to her.

Lisa replied, “It’s OK, it does sting, but it dies away quickly. I love it when you rub my botty.”

I lifted her haunches and went down on her again. Lisa enjoyed oral sex, but her reaction following a spanking was amazing. She had an orgasm within seconds.

As soon as she recovered, she rolled onto her back and demanded I get on board. I could see that the spanking had turned Lisa on, with reddened labia and a stiff clit. I had a diamond-cutter erection. We rolled over and Lisa sat on me cowgirl style. Within seconds, she had another tremendous orgasm, and that triggered me off again.

Lisa said, “Come on, I want to get on my back.”

She hung on like a limpet and I could feel the involuntary muscles around her vagina going into spasm. She dug her fingernails into my back. Lisa was on Cloud Nine. Eventually, Lisa held my head in both hands, kissing me on the lips.

Lisa said, “You are a bad boy. I feel sore inside and out.”

“Lisa, Darling,” I said, “Was it better for you tonight?”

She looked me in the eye and nodded in agreement. “I had at least four orgasms; I have never had more than one at a time before. My bottom feels a little sore, but hot. I still feel sexy. I don’t want any more now or I will be too sore tomorrow.”

We soon slept in each other’s arms. Dear Lisa was such a joy to me. Where would this lead? I wondered, but I resolved to let things take their course.

The next day I had difficulty concentrating at work, thinking about what might happen in the evening. Lisa rang me late in the morning and asked if we could go to a quiet little restaurant that she liked and where we could sit in a discrete little cubicle.

She had taken me there once or twice before when she wanted to discuss something serious. Lisa had never started a serious discussion in the apartment. Maybe she thought of it as my territory and did not want to take any kind of lead there (beyond sex!) so this was a new departure. I agreed immediately, saying that we ought to go home and shower first, with which Lisa was entirely happy.

After a shower at home, we went out. A quiet table separated from its neighbours was available. Wood panels extend from floor to ceiling on each side, making it secluded. We ordered a simple but tasty local meal and waited for it to arrive.

Lisa looked around to make sure no one could hear and said, “Darling, I love what we are doing. Let’s go home and do some more. I want you to spank my pussy lightly tonight with that little leather martinet, please.”

This was amazing. I had not been expecting anything like it and said, “Yes, for sure I will, but whatever gave you the idea?”

Lisa looked at me and said, “One of my friends told me about it. She told me she gets tapped with the rotan on her pussy, but I can’t even think about that.”

It was another surprise! I asked, “Do you ever think any more about having another dose of the rotan?”

Lisa replied, “That little martinet is good, but I can only just handle it. I’m not sure about the rotan.”

“It will not be like how they caned you as a young girl, I replied. Your teachers and perhaps your Mother would have done it very hard as a punishment. It scared you and hurt you. It would have humiliated you. I have been there too. We could get a few canes of different sizes and I get you used to it with a thin one used gently to see if you can handle it.”

Lisa looked at me and said, “I trust you and it’s better if I look for the canes. It will not look funny. If they make any comments, I know what to say. It’s much better if I buy them during the week.”

I said, “Sounds like a plan. I can’t wait to see those canes!” Lisa had become less nervous about a caning and I wondered why. Maybe she trusted me. I had taught her a lot about sex, and multiple orgasms had been the result. However, I always felt being generous with good oral was an enormous help. We finished our light meal and went back to the apartment.

Once inside, Lisa put her arms around me and said, “Go on please,” She said, “Whip me gently on my pussy.”

“Certainly, I will after you have whipped me with the martinet. You need to see that I can take it as well as give it,” I replied.

Lisa put her hand to her mouth in amazement. She said, “No, I can’t do that!”

I replied, “Why ever not? It’s natural. If I can give it, I need to take it.”

“Please, let me practise on something first,” replied Lisa

Putting a pillow on the side of the bed, I said, “Give that a good whipping. Rest the strands of the martinet on it to give it a warning (!) Take a good swing and whip it across the pillow. Keep your arm stretched well out and use your wrist to crack the martinet across the pillow. A lot of the action is in your wrist.”

Lisa aimed the pillow and gave it a few strokes. The strokes landed too far across the pillow as the motion of her arm in the air caused it to move further from where she had been aiming. Once I gently talked her through this; she stepped back a little and got it right.

Kneeling on the bed, naked, bottom up, head down, “I am ready I said. Give me six strokes of the martinet.”

The strands rested on my bottom, then ‘whoosh’ ‘crack’. It was painful. I could not be sure how hard she was swinging the martinet, but the sound of it in the air gave it away. I maintained my composure and tried not to make a noise or move about much. Take it like a man!

After the six strokes, I got up and rubbed my bottom. The feel of hot, stinging ridges surprised me. It had not raised ridges on her botty. When I whipped Lisa, I could not hear the martinet in the air; I must have done it gently. Lisa did not know her strength!

“Come and admire your work!” I said.

Lisa looked shocked and ran her fingers over the ridges. I thought she would cry, so I gently stroked her face.

“Don’t worry. You are an expert. Look at my erection. You have done a wonderful job,” I replied.

Lisa said, “I never had ridges like those on my botty. This morning I had a few faint brown lines. They only caused me a minor sensation. You must have done it gently.”

She got hold of my hand and put my index finger on the opening of her vagina. She was soaking!

“See what happened when I whipped you,” she said. “A few more strokes and I would have had an orgasm. It came faster than I thought!”

Taking a chance, I said, “Would you like to go all the way? I can take more strokes, just as hard. If you feel an orgasm building up, just let it flow through you and it will happen. It’s natural, and you should enjoy it!”

Getting back into position on the bed, I said. “Carry on.”

Strokes rained down again. It took self-control to stand it; the pain was as bad as a school caning.

After about ten more strokes, Lisa stopped, and I heard her gasping for breath. She was on her knees. She was in the grip of an enormous orgasm, so I helped her onto the bed.

Lisa was having muscle spasms every few seconds. I had seen nothing like it before. Her clitoris and vaginal area were in continuous motion. She put a hand down there to stop me from touching or kissing her pussy.

Eventually, she said, “Let it die away. It’s going to take a while.”

I lay down beside her, rubbing my flaming bottom. After about an hour, Lisa rolled onto her side and said, “Now try to whip my pussy lightly, please.”

Lisa had made a lighting ‘recovery,’ quite amazing!

I took very careful aim with the little bootlace martinet and swung a very light stroke onto her pussy. Lisa gave a convulsive jerk and sucked in a breath, which she slowly exhaled. When she relaxed, I did it again.

After the third stroke, Lisa got up on her knees with her bottom in the air. “Stick it in me now,” she demanded.

 I did as bidden and began making love to her with some vigour. After only a few seconds, she suddenly pulled away from me and resumed the position on her back.

 “Go on,” she said, whip me again! I disobeyed her. I went down on her and got the tip of her clit between my teeth. Lisa arched her back and gasped wildly.

 “Ooooh, more whipping please,” she moaned.

 I gave her a few more strokes and rather naughtily increased the force a bit. Her vulva and clitoris were becoming a deep red with the stimulation. Lisa did not appear to be in any distress. Rather, she was more turned on. Secretions began leaking out of her vagina once again.

 I got on board as I was rock-hard and in need of relief. Lisa had a massive orgasm, and I controlled myself. She pulled away from me and made me get on my back, and then she rode me cowgirl style, having another stupendous orgasm. We carried on like this until Lisa finally had an orgasm like Vesuvius erupting and ground to a halt on top of me.

 When Lisa came down off cloud nine, she got up and went to the bathroom. I thought I would leave her to attend to herself, but I heard a little voice call my name.

 I found her perched on the bidet and as I came in, she looked around. “Please wash me,” she said. Of course, I obliged, but this time, Lisa had another orgasm as I lifted the hood of her clitoris and sat over the vertical spray. The strength of her orgasms took it out of Lisa. I had to assist her in getting up from the bidet, as she was unsteady on her feet!

 We got back in bed and slept for hours.

 The next evening, we talked about what had happened the previous evening. I talked to Lisa about endorphins. The generation of endorphins happens if a person receives a moderate spanking and is in a mindset to enjoy it. I talked about their role as pleasure generators in the human body. As I expected, Lisa was unaware of this.

 We took things easy for the next couple of days to let Lisa go over all of this in her mind. There was no need to rush things.

 Lisa asked for another meeting at our special little restaurant. We ordered drinks, then she put her hand on my arm and said, “I need to apologise to you!”

 “For what?” I asked in surprise and not a little fear. What was coming?

 Lisa said, “When you got up the next morning after I whipped you, your bottom was still a mass of ridges. I never was like that. I must have overdone it, I am so sorry. You must have been in pain at work when you sat on those marks.”

 I laughed gently, “Lisa, we are all different. The worst of the pain had gone in half an hour. Afterwards, there was a lot of sensation but I could handle sitting on that. The only time it hurt was when I washed my bum sitting on the bidet because the rim was very narrow.

 “It compresses the marks worse than a full-size chair seat. Don’t worry, I don’t live on the bidet and the padded office chairs are comfortable. They are not the hard variety”.

 Lisa said, “You are very gentle with me. I don’t want it to be like that always. I have been naughty and I deserve a harder caning. Please, do not hold back, you must cane me properly.”

 Taking hold of both of her hands, I smiled and made sure she was looking me in the eye.

 I said, “Your well-being and sexual satisfaction are top of my list. I will cane you, but I will do it so you can handle it. Now do not worry. I love you so much; you are a treasure to me. It seemed like a miracle when you arrived in my life.”

 A little tear formed and rolled down her cheek. I leaned forward and kissed her. “Now don’t cry,” I said.

 Lisa looked down and said, “You are like a teacher about sex and other things. You have shown me so much but never taken advantage of me. The day after we had a session, all my senses work so well and I feel so alive. The girls in the boutique cannot believe how I am, but I think they know why.

 We went home, showered and had an early night. We were both tired and needed to recover, and Lisa was soon deep asleep and curled up around me.

 The next evening I got back to the apartment and Lisa had just arrived with the canes. They were perfect for what I had in mind.

 “How much were they?” I asked.

 Lisa replied, “Five of them cost (the equivalent of) seven pounds.”

 I could hardly believe it knowing what they cost in Europe and said as much.

 Lisa said, “You know, they grow wild here. The major cost in Europe is shipping them.”

 I asked, “Did they say anything when you bought them?”

 She laughed and said, “I think they thought I was younger than most parents because of how they looked at me. But they seemed to accept it and didn’t say a word.”

 The canes were still fresh and very pliant they had not dried out. They were different widths but all between sixty-five and seventy cm. long. I left them to soak in water overnight. In the morning, I took them out of the water, wiped them dry and soaked them in linseed oil to seal in the moisture.

 The canes were soaked in a plastic trough full of linseed oil for 24 hours. I took them out and wiped off excess oil. They stood upright on a pad of paper tissue in a saucer to let more oil soak out under gravity.

 A day later, they were ready for use. They were very springy. It was time to put them to use.

 Lisa knew I was getting the canes ready but had said nothing. I thought it was time to go back to the restaurant. It was time to talk about a few things. It still seemed to me to be easier to have a planned talk with Lisa there than it was in the apartment.

 We had a light meal and a drink. I got the chat around to the canes. Lisa looked at me, I thought half in anticipation and half in concern about what might follow.

 “Love, those canes are ready,” I said.

 Lisa replied hesitantly, “I thought so.”

 “Don’t worry,” I said, “I want you to cane me first, please.”

 Her mouth dropped open in surprise. “Why? It’s my turn to get a sore bum.”

 I said, “That little leather martinet, when used hard, is as painful as a cane. I did not use it hard on you until now. Do you want to try it again before we move on to the cane?

 Lisa was speechless. Eventually, she gulped her drink and said, “I was not expecting this, are you sure?

 Lisa continued, “I know I am going to love the whole caning process. I don’t think I ever told you about Julia and Akiko?”

 “No, you didn’t,” I replied.

 Lisa went on, “Akiko is a Japanese girl married to a Swiss banker. She has been away with him for the last three months and came back two weeks ago. They have a lovely apartment in one of the best blocks in the City. Julia runs a Batik factory.

 “We are a naughty threesome and we get together sometimes in Akiko’s flat. We met up last week at mid-day for two hours. Her husband does not know and if anyone says anything, he is going to think Akiko had a visit from two lady friends, and there is nothing strange about that.”

 This was surprising, but not a source of annoyance; it is very innocent and natural.

 I said to Lisa, “Darling, I’m delighted for you; we only are on this planet once. Let us all be happy. You must be happy with your friends, too.”

 Lisa put her head in her hands and started crying. I cuddled her and said, “There’s no need for that. As long as it’s not another man, I can share. I’m not possessive.”

 She looked up, wiped her tears and stopped crying.

 Lisa said, “There is no one like you. Your spirit of generosity is wonderful. Thank you so much.”

 Lisa continued, “We play on Akiko’s bidet, and a bit of oral stimulation goes on with the use of vibrators. I am not mad about vibrators. They do not satisfy me. They make you horny, but they let you down at the end.

 “If any of us have been naughty, we discuss it. We decide on the ‘punishment’, which the other two will carry out. Akiko has a ‘special chair’, which you can adjust into a spanking support frame. If we agree on a punishment, we take a spanking, strapping or caning, or a mixture, once secured.

 “I am not keen on it, but I let them secure me because I have learned to trust them. They know about you, I have told them. Akiko and Julia are naughty. They know you spank me.

 “Akiko and Julia said that you seem to be very careful with me, and if it came to a caning, I was to trust you. To them, you sound like a nice man who would never abuse me. They advised that if he is kind, let him gently cane you, you might like it.

 “I told them about the little bootlace martinet; I took it along last week and tried it on them. Julia said she thought it was worse than the cane and Akiko said it was not much different. Don’t worry, I brought it back. They are making their bootlace martinets now.

 “Some naughty things go on. Akiko is into spanking and light to moderate caning. Julia will take the cane but prefers the leather strap. I can take a light leather strap, but I will not take the cane. At least I have not done so yet; I am or was still afraid of the cane. If I am going to be caned, you must be the first one to cane me.”

 Still amazed by these revelations, I replied, “That is quite a story. I had not been aware that you had ever done anything like that. It’s not a good idea to rush off and give you your first caning if we have had a drink.

“How about doing it for the first time on a Sunday morning so we have all day to relax afterwards and take care of ourselves if we need to?”

 It was Tuesday when this conversation took place. Lisa put out a little hand and touched my arm.

 “Jim,” she began. “That’s a great idea. My period has just started, and I should be OK by Sunday. Let’s do it this Sunday morning. I will arrange not to go to the boutique at all this Sunday.”

 At the boutique, they had an arrangement agreed around the different religions represented in her workforce. Some did not work on Friday, some took Sunday off. Lisa was usually off on Sunday but sometimes went in for a while, usually in the afternoon. Lisa would take all next Sunday off for our planned caning session.

 I had a thought, I said, “If you would like, you can bring your friends back to our place. I don’t mind, I’m happy about it if makes you happy. We can always make your bum pay for it (a joke)!”

 Lisa stared at me. I thought she was going to cry again, so I said, “Don’t cry, please think about it. You are welcome to offer our place to your friends to have fun.”

 Lisa replied, “Our next session will be very special. I owe you!”

 Sunday morning arrived. “Let’s clean up and prepare for the session,” I said.

 Lisa went to the bathroom and emerged about fifteen minutes later. After I took my shower, I emerged with a towel around me.

 “Please, let’s see how you get on with a cane. Let’s find out,” I said.

 Having put two pillows on the end of the bed, I said, “Imagine that’s my bum. How would you go about caning it?”

 The cane I handed her was number four out of five in the increasing order of thickness. It must have been seven to eight mm in diameter. Older pupils in UK schools years back received a caning with a cane of about this size.

 I said, “OK, give the pillows a few strokes.”

 Lisa at first did some things you should not have, like lifting the cane above shoulder height and not lining it up across the item to be caned to avoid ‘wrapping’.

 I explained also to make sure both cheeks of the bottom felt the cane. She needed to consider where to stand to the side of the bottom in terms of the position in front and behind it. Lisa received my instruction not to cane too high and to always avoid hitting the tailbone or spine.

 I showed her how to deal correctly with these issues and she soon got the idea.

 Next, I explained the difference between ‘bounce’ and ‘hold down’ caning. Bounce is more difficult to do. Lisa got the hang of bounce caning, which pleased me. It is all in the wrist action.

 Lisa asked, “Do you want me to use this cane on you?”

 “Yes,” I replied, “That’s why I gave it to you to practice with.”

 She said, “It looks very thick. It’s a lot thicker than Uncle’s canes. Are you sure you can handle it?”

 “Yes,” I said, “In the past, they caned me several times. I know what I can take. Lisa, I’m going to get on hands and knees on the bed. Please, give me six strokes on the fat part of my bum, leaving about 20 seconds between strokes. See how you get on regarding how hard to do it.

 “Please remember what I said about the position of the cane relative to the bottom and where you need to stand. Tap the cane on my bum two or three times before giving me the stroke so I will know it is coming. Do it hard though, there is no point in tickling me.”

 Lisa was silent for a few seconds, and then she said, “OK, please don’t hate me if it hurts.”

 “Don’t worry,” I said, “I asked you for it. I am ready.”

 The cane went tap-tap on my bottom, then ‘Crack’, a real stinger; Lisa had caned me hard, to my surprise. She had it right, I could tell. This alone was a source of pleasure.

 I managed not to yell. Lisa was audibly counting up to twenty, and I prepared for the next one. It was a repeat of number one. Oh Dear, I thought, Lisa was too good at it.

 The six strokes ended. In some pain, I got up, trying not to show just how much. I looked at my caned bum in the big mirror. Lisa had stood too far back and the further cheek of my bum had taken a lot more than the cheek nearer to her. I needed to fix that.

 Lisa looked shocked and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that to you. You are not upset?”

 I had a massive erection and said, “How can I be upset? You did what I asked and look at the result!”

 Lisa smiled and said, “You react just like me. I felt so sexy after you used the bootlaces on me.”

 Perhaps Lisa had ‘enjoyed’ doing it, so I asked, “Did it do anything for you?”

 Lisa replied, “At first I was worried that I had overdone it, but I could not help feeling very turned on.”

 I said, “Let’s go over how I think it went, and then you give me six more, please.”

 It needed an explanation of where she had gone wrong, with one cheek experiencing most of the sting and the other not much. I got back up on the bed and advised her on how to line up the cane.

 When ready, Lisa gave me six more stingers. Why did I ever let her do this? I thought. I got up and looked at my bum in the mirror.

 The marks were impressive. They would generate a sensation when I sat on them for a few days. I had been hoping to make it through to thirty-six strokes. With Lisa’s expertise in giving a caning, I wondered if I could make it to thirty-six.

 Had the experience of giving me a caning turned on Lisa? So I walked over to her, kissed her gently and said, “Darling, how do you feel now? Do you get anything out of it?”

 Lisa blushed and said, “I’m getting wet. I thought I would.”

 “May I feel?” I said, putting a finger close to the opening.

 “Go on,” said Lisa, “You need to see what effect it is having.”

 She was dripping wet! I knew I had to let her carry on; a little psychology could bring her to orgasm while caning me.

 So I said, “Lisa, don’t fight your feelings. Let them run through you. If you are getting close to orgasm, let it happen. It is normal. Please, keep on caning me. I’m sure you will have an orgasm before I need you to stop.”

 Lisa looked a bit shocked. I knelt before her and gently kissed her pussy. Lisa was in a state of high arousal.

 Lisa said, “Please, are you OK? Your bum is very marked!”

  “Yes, it hurts for sure, but it’s doing you a lot of good and that is important, I said. I will try to get through to thirty-six strokes and maybe you will orgasm on the way. If having an orgasm is going to stop you from caning me, that’s fine. Just tell me how you feel. You have caned me in silence so far. Let me know how you feel as you carry on.”

 Getting back up on the bed, I felt tap tap ‘crack’ as the strokes cut right through me, or so it seemed.

 “Oh dear, I feel so horny,” Lisa kept saying until, at stroke twenty-nine, I heard Lisa gasping and moaning.

 Here it is, I thought. Lisa collapsed on the bed and said, “I’m having a shattering orgasm, you naughty boy. It feels so different from all the other orgasms I have ever had.”

 Taking her in my arms, Lisa was shaking all over. It was some orgasm; it would be exhausting for Lisa.

 I laid her on to her back and tried to go down on her but she said, “No, it’s too strong, it will shake me to bits. Please don’t kiss my wet peanut right now.”

 So I lay there, my bum in a lot of pain still.

 After about ten minutes, Lisa said, “Let me look at your bum.”

 I got up and realised that there were a few small bloodstains on the bedclothes. The cane marks had leaked a bit where they crossed over.

 I thought Lisa was going to cry, so I said, “Don’t worry, it’s not your fault. Now you know how to do it like an expert.”

 “Yes,” said Lisa, “But you have not caned me.”

 I replied, “Get you over your orgasm. This must have been a big surprise to you, and you need to rest. Why not go back to bed and try to sleep? We have all day. But first, can we put a few plasters on my bum where I’m leaking?”

 I got out the box of plasters and Lisa set to work. It did not take long. Lisa got into bed and I left her to rest. I got on with some work, sitting on a big cushion. About 3 hours later, I heard footsteps. It was Lisa in her dressing gown.

 “Are you OK Darling?” I said.

 Lisa grinned happily and replied, “I didn’t know I would feel the way I did. I thought it was so wicked, but I know you have shown me that sexual feelings are normal. The orgasmic feelings took over half an hour to stop, and then I fell into a deep sleep. I’m ready for my caning or will be once I have cleaned up in the bathroom.”

“Ok,” I said, “get ready and I will be there.”

 I had a raging post-caning erection, which I do not think Lisa noticed as I was wearing a baggy pair of shorts. I intended to be naked when I caned her. Lisa had been naked when she coulded me. I wondered what would happen.

 Back in the bedroom, I got naked. Shortly after, Lisa emerged from the bathroom, gazing at my enormous erection. She came up to me and put her arms around me, lowering them to feel the marks on my bum.

 Lisa said, “You poor man, your bum must hurt like all hell.”

I replied, “Look at how I am responding now. Can it be so bad?”

 “Do you want me to do something about that? Lisa said, looking at my erection.”

 “No, not yet,” I replied, “I’m always like this about an hour after a hard caning. Darling, you know what happened. How do you feel about being caned after all that?”

 She hung her arms around my neck and said, “I never thought that a caning could do all this. I cannot take it as hard as you have just done. Please be gentle.”

 I said, “Now do you understand why I wanted you to cane me first? You have seen me suffer and my reaction. Can I show you how I can give you a sexy caning, please? It is not a punishment. You caned me hard at my request so I could see if doing so would turn you on.

 “I wondered how you would react after what you told me and the result exceeded my expectations! However, I should have known after what happened when you used the bootlaces on me!”

 Lisa replied, “The marks on your bum gave me a shock. I guessed how much it must have been hurting, but you stuck it. My reaction to it surprised me. But I should have known after the bootlace experience.”

 Lisa hung her head just a little and quietly said, “Jim, I’m ready. Please cane me now.”

 Sitting on the bedroom chair, I got her over my knee and said, “I don’t think you ever got a warm-up spanking before, did you? They just caned you without ‘preparation.’

 “I’m going to warm you up with a hand spanking first. It will go on for a while to get your bottom well reddened with your endorphins flowing. You will be ready for the cane at the end of the hand spanking.”

 Carrying out this hand spanking steadily and with escalating force, my hand hurt after about sixty spanks. Lisa was wriggling about and yelping a bit at first, but taking it well. I could see she was getting wet again.

 When I stopped, Lisa looked at me and said, “When you started, it hurt quite a lot, but the pain faded a bit and I felt horny. It was turning me on.”

 I replied, “That’s why I gave you the hand spanking. It goes on for longer than ‘the bootlaces’. I could tell if it was going to be too much for you and I could soon see that you were OK.

 “Lisa Darling, I’m going to keep you over my knee and give you six strokes with the number two cane (one up from the thinnest one which was too thin to do much anyway). I will give them slowly and gently. If you want me to rub the marks, please tell me.

 “You can tell me to stop or ask me for anything while it’s going on. Please, I would love it if you could tell me how you are feeling. Please, tell me if you are happy with the idea or not, before I start.”

 Lisa looked up at me and said, “It was so good, more than I could conceive. It is all so different. When I was younger, it was awful and humiliating, but this seems normal and so sexy. I will be a good girl and help you get it right for me.”

  “OK, my dear, it’s time,” I replied.

 I went tap tap with the cane, then ‘crack.’ A light stroke landed right across the fat part of her bum. It affected both cheeks.

 “Oooooh,” went Lisa, “Hot sting”.

 Rubbing the cane mark for about thirty seconds, I repeated the action.

 Lisa said, “It stings a bit, but it feels great afterwards. Please do it a little faster.”

 I gave her two more cane strokes before rubbing the little marks again. Lisa jerked each time the sting arrived, but was taking it very well.

 I thought I would turn up the heat a bit for the last two and I gave her number five a little harder.

 Lisa gasped and said, “Rub the mark please”.

 “How are you feeling?” I asked.

 Lisa replied, “Hot and stingy, I am fine. Please give me number six a little harder; I think I can handle it OK.”

 I gave the cane a bit more wrist action. Lisa rewarded me with a yelp. She wriggled about and put her bottom muscles into motion! Lisa started dripping, and her juices were running out of her onto my upper thigh!

 She said, ”I am so horny now, but I ought to have a few more. You took nearly thirty strokes. My arousal was so strong I lost count. Rub the marks, please, and give me six more strokes and harder. I need them.”

 “OK,” I replied, “As you wish. Do you want me to rub after each one this time?”

 “Yes please,” she replied, “I should have asked.”

 Tap tap Whack, more force this time.

 “Rub it, rub it” yelled Lisa. She had felt that one.

 The last one made a more pronounced mark, which would turn into a hard ridge; she would feel it for a few days. I finished rubbing and gave her another stroke with about the same force. It was about five out of ten on the ‘force’ scale, i.e. not very hard.

Lisa shouted out, “Rub it, you naughty boy!”

I did as I was told. I asked her, “Are you OK?”

Lisa bravely replied, “I’m sure it’s nothing like what I did to you. I need to remember what it feels like. It is nothing like it was when I was younger, and I am so horny. Give me the last four without stopping and give me the last one hard. It’s what I deserve.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yes,” Lisa replied, “Please do it.”

This caning of her golden botty, on top of my earlier horny feelings, was getting too much for me. This needed to be finished.

“Hold on,” I said, “Here it comes. Yell if you have to, but don’t try to rub.”

 So I gave her the next three with about the same impact, saving the last stroke as a much harder stinger that would get her attention.

 Lisa yelled after each stroke and her bum was in quick, muscular action throughout. It was vital to make sure the cane landed when her muscles relaxed because hitting a tensed-up bum is far more painful for the girl than caning a relaxed bum. In the end, I let her grab at her bum. She got off my knee and ran up and down, wriggling about and still yelping, but not in tears.

“You naughty boy, it hurts like hell but it feels wonderful”.

 She threw herself on the bed on her back, legs apart.

 “Come on, do it now,” she demanded.

 You can guess what happened. After we had a huge mutual orgasm, we lay there. A little hand reached out and grabbed my dick.

 “Are we still on this planet”? Asked Lisa, “It’s unbelievable how much I enjoyed this. I need to get used to the cane. If I have been naughty or rude to you, I must have a discipline caning, not just a sexy one like we had today.

 “It stings a lot, but the pain is less already. If I have been naughty, I need to be punished properly. I’m not a little girl anymore.”

 This sort of thing became the norm during the rest of my time in the country. Lisa told me she had often felt frustrated by normal lovemaking and needed more stimulation had let light into her soul to our mutual benefit.