‘I’d rather swim naked through an oil slick than have sex with you, Tommy. Although I’m not sure it’s possible to tell the difference, since you’re such a sloppy pool of shit.’ 

‘Well, I wouldn’t waste that gigantic brain of yours worrying about such a prospect. I like sex to be at least a little sensual. I’d get more physical pleasure from humping a stick insect than shagging you. What’s more, I’ll bet going down on your cunt is like licking the Brillo pad that’s just cleaned yesterday’s fish pan. Or do you keep that little fanny of yours trimmed smooth? Doubt it. Not sure they make brush-cutters small enough for that task.’

‘Ha! Well, I reckon you’ve got quite a pathetic cock, for all your cockiness. I’d say it’d fit just fine in a stick insect’s twat. So long as it was a rather tiny stick insect, that is. I’ll bet you’ve got more cock on your breath than between your legs.’

‘Ooo, hoo, hoo! A nasty little touch of homophobia there, Netia. Who over-tightened your nipple clamps this morning, Little Miss Needle-Lips?’

‘Slow down, speedy boi. I didn’t say there was anything wrong with the fact you quite obviously can’t resist sucking cock. I mean, it’s good for you to see how big real men are, how long they can last. But you might at least learn how to brush your teeth.’

‘Look, I know you’re just trying to cope with the pain of my persistent rejection of you, Netia, but don’t fool yourself into believing that it’s because I’ve ever been into men. We both know it’s time you let go of your dreams of shagging me. And even if I did lower myself to fucking you, you’re such a tiny streak of sinew; I say you’d barely be able to contain my excitement.’

Netia failed in her attempt to stifle a laugh and forced it into a snort of derision halfway through.

‘Ah! Don’t say it, Netia. I can see you’re about to boast about all the huge cocks you’ve wrung into submission in your lady pocket. I take it back. No, honestly, I believe you. I’m quite sure you’ve got a clunge so vast you could hire it out for nuclear submarine maintenance. Is it like the Tardis?’

‘“Lady pocket”? Fuck me, what are you, Tommy-boy, barely thirty?! And you’re talking like a creepy old git already? I guess it’s a lack of sexual satisfaction. I’m quite sure any cunt is like the Tardis next to your little-Tommie todger. Anyway, how did we get on to talking about sex?’

‘Errr, you mentioned your friend, whatshisname, the one who runs that BDSM site you ceaselessly bang on about pick-up-a-perv dot com, or whatever it is.’

‘Ooo, I had little Tommy-boy down as a sexual inadequate, but I never reckoned on him as a prude. No, wait! Methinks the laddie doth protest too much. I’m saying you’ve got yourself a filthy little profile on BDSM-reacher dot com. Yep. Almost certain. And I am going to find it. Why have I not thought to look before?!’

‘We’ve spoken about your phone obsession a few times now, Netia. It’s your porn habit, isn’t it? You can’t put that thing down. When was the last time you had real-world sex?’

‘Shit try, Tommy. Even by your pathetic sub-standards. I’m going to find your profile whether you like it or not. Hmm, let’s see. Gender: male, well you would put that, wouldn’t you? Location: London; Age: oooh! Let’s say twenty-eight going on dirty-old-man; Interests: cock sucking, halitosis fetish, small penis humiliation, dry pillow humping; Assets: bring your electron microscope. There: search!’

‘You can’t analyse live specimens under an electron microscope, Netia. Thought you were supposed to have a superbrain?’

‘Which is why an electron microscope is a perfect way to view your petrified little pintle, dumb ass. Do I have to explain all my jokes?’

‘I get it; as with any stalker, you go after someone with the life you want, looking for vicarious thrills. It’s sad, Netia; I’m sorry for you. I guess we all have our crosses to bear. But you won’t find me on that kind of stupid site, I can assure you.’

‘Ha! Found it!’ Netia sounded triumphant, and Tommy would not have been surprised to see his profile on her screen when she spun her phone around and shoved it into his face.

‘Err, no, Netia, that’s an old tramp. Why don’t you save his profile? You’re never going to do much for men, but you may be able to make yourself useful sucking on a few old tramps’ cocks. It might shut you up for a bit too.’

‘Oh! Can I practice by having a sniff of your cock? You can keep your pants on. I mean, I can get enough of a whiff of it from here, to be honest. If I can handle that without gagging, I should be ready for anything. Now… why are there so many shitty profiles from men in London? Christ, the state of some of them. Ha! Yes! Here we go! It’s you! That’s you, isn’t it?!’

‘Looks nothing like me! Would you like me to book you an appointment with the opticians? I’ll bet you can’t see to dial them yourself.’

‘And that? Come on, Tommy! You might have cropped your head off, but that’s your chin, forearms, and your fucking tasteless shirt. Fucking unbelievable. Wait, “Stromboli”, you named your profile after a type of pizza, you complete sad sack!’

‘It was both an island off the coast of Sicily and a volcano on that island long before it was the name of a fucking pizza, you ignorant little phial of puss.’

‘Ha! Condemned by his own mouth. YOU rest MY case… m’lud. Come on, Tommy, admit it. Don’t be pathetic. You’ve been busted. Right, let’s take a good look. See! Those are absolutely your underpants; they’re the same stinking ones hanging on the drying rack over there! Stromboli is such a shit name, by the way. Fitting, really.’

‘Why are you snooping around people's private profiles?’

‘People's? YOURS, you mean! Shit-try number two, Tommy Try-Again, and it isn’t even 10 am yet. And they’re not p-p-p-private profiles, you p-p-p-pillock! It’s a p-p-p-public website, Poirot.’

‘Not P-P-P-Poirot?’

‘I got sick of that affectation. Well, look at you! “Smart gentleman seeks classy lady sub for mutual dalliances!” You missed the bit where you insist they have their own sick bucket. You must surely be expecting them to puke at that cheesy bollocks. No? Oooh... “Dom”! Dom’ake me laugh, more like. Me, I’m very much a switch that leans on the sub-side, but I’d be topping a no-mark like you so fast you’d have third-degree burns just from the switcheroo!’

‘We’ve had words about your obsession with me, Netia. It has to stop. Though whomever that is, it’s not me. I’ll admit there’s a passing resemblance, but no!’

‘Yeah, right. I’ll bet I can find some Italians in London that don’t know Stromboli’s a fucking island forward-slash volcano. The number of English blokes in London who know that is probably, er, one, maybe two. And the other one just happens to have your chin and manages to borrow your underpants and shirt. No, you’re right; that’s totally reasonable. Absolutely not our little Tommy at all, that. Shit! That’s the wallpaper in your fucking flat!’

‘You’ve never been to my flat!’

‘Yes, I have; I went with Peter last week to help move your stuff over here while you were away. Well, Mr Big Dom, look who’s just busted your sorry ass to a pulp. Moi! Yours truly!’

Tommy had split with his girlfriend Rebecca a couple of months back, and they’d been awkwardly cohabiting in Tommy’s one-bed flat while she looked for a new place. Sadly, Rebecca’s dad died suddenly, and Tommy offered to give her some space for a couple of months. But being away in the US on a work trip at the time, Tommy asked Peter to pick up some things so Rebecca could be left in peace when he returned. He didn’t imagine Peter would recruit Netia to help! 

‘Right, Netia, give me that phone!’

‘Hey, it’s rude to snatch; give that back!’

‘Netia, we need to work on this sharing thing; you should’ve mastered that by the age of three. You’ve had your fun; now it’s my turn. Let’s see if I can find your profile.’ 

‘Aaaaand it’s a shit-try hat trick! Don’t pretend you haven’t been all over my profile. Unlike you, I’m an adult, and I’ve never hidden the fact I’m on that site. I’ll bet you’ve been glopping off all over my not-safe-for-work pics, haven’t you? Don’t worry. I don’t mind. I knew there’d be men doing that when I uploaded them. I see it as a form of charity. I mean, men who are too old, dull or otherwise mercilessly unattractive in every dimension still need to spill their jolly little wrigglers. I’m happy to help you with your predicament, Tommy. I only ask that if you want to go a step further and sniff my panties, you buy them via the website rather than stealing them from the washing basket. Show me that respect, at least.’

‘People pay good money for your scabby old panties? I hope you’re following a strict packaging protocol and marking them properly as a bio-hazard. Posties don’t want to be picking up your pestilence. Ah! Look here. Well, “Nutella69”? And you reckon my profile name is bad? Well, you’re definitely nuts, and you usually look like shit, so I guess no one can say your profile is misleading. But sixty nine? Cheesy as fuck.’

‘Sixty nines are cheesy with blokes like you, for sure. Well, smeggy, but that’s pretty much the same thing. But they’re typically a beautiful experience with women, I find. Not that you’d know. But a sixty-nine with a woman is a sixty-nine with someone who knows what they’re fucking doing, for a change.’

‘Ooo, takes a light caning! Ha! Pissing fetish! Do we need to put you in a nappy?’

‘No, not really into nappies. I like pissing, especially into men’s mouths, to get them off. I can teach you to aim if you’d like. It might save me cleaning up around the back of the loo after you had one of your little mishaps. I know it’s difficult, though, when you have such inadequate equipment.’

‘Right, lovely as this has been, I’ll confess to a slight Saturday morning hangover. I’m going up to shower it off. And Netia, seriously now, if you breathe a word of this to Peter or anyone we know, if friends start “stumbling” across my profile all of a sudden, I will stripe your backside so thoroughly you’ll have to change your profile name to “tigerass”, understand?’

‘Oooh, big promises from you, Mr Tommy Dom. I may just have to be a naughty girl then!’

‘Netia, stop wriggling your arse at me. I’m fucking serious; I don’t want people to know. I’m not okay with that.’

‘Alright, Tommy Tightass, your secret’s safe! Right, some of us are already up. I’m going to plant some sweet peas in the garden; Peter said it was okay. There’s no need for you to feel like a useless fuck for not being up and at it by ten on a sunny Saturday.’

‘Sweet peas, why do we want fucking sweet peas?’

‘Why do you think? To overpower the stench of your cock-breath with their stunning fragrance, of course! You’ve only been here a few days, but already the air in this place is becoming unbearable.’

Tommy rolled his eyes and went upstairs to shower. He didn’t imagine Peter cared much about what Netia planted in his garden. Peter was in this flat so little nowadays; he preferred his country cottage, so Tommy asked if he could stay for a couple of months, not realising Netia was in the other spare room. Netia was Peter’s friend, and Tommy had only met her about half a dozen times before becoming her temporary flatmate a few days back. But every time, right from their first meeting, there’d been fireworks.

After his shower, Tommy returned to his room wearing a towel, which he then used to dry his hair. Still suffering from the overindulgence of the night before, Tommy flopped face-down onto the bed, reflecting on Netia’s extraordinary ability to irritate him immensely. Still, he was impressed at her confidence, how she loved to be photographed naked and had no compunction about putting those pictures on her profile. Though he’d never admit it to Netia’s face, she did have the most incredible body. As he happily recalled those images in his mind, he drifted off to sleep.

‘ARGH!’ 

Tommy awoke to a sudden shock of pain across his backside. He spun around, grabbing his stinging arse cheeks, to see Netia in the doorway, holding a bamboo cane. Netia was desperately trying to suppress her laughter, yet she looked a little shocked.

‘What the fu… Netia, you fucking harpee, did you cane my bare ass?!’

‘It was an accident, honest! I, er, came upstairs to find you to see if you had anything I could use to cut this down. Your door was kind of open, so I decided to prod you to wake you up. But I sort of slipped.’

‘That’s “kind of, sort of” bullshit, isn’t it, Netia!?’

Tommy jumped out of bed with his back to Netia, grabbing some underpants from a drawer and sliding them on.

‘Nice arse Tommy Tiger-Tush! Just the one hand to cover your cock, though?’

‘You are pushing it, Netia. Give me that fucking stick before you use it to do something else stupid.’

Tommy moved towards the door, and Netia ran off. Tommy caught up with her just as she was leaping into her bedroom.

‘Accident, my arse, you did that deliberately, Netia, and it’s not fucking on!’

‘Honestly, it was an accident. I know all about the importance of consent, Tommy Tantrum.’

‘Don’t take the piss, Netia; you might be a fucking stick insect, but even that won’t save you; the ice you’re skating on is so fucking thin.’

‘Okay! It WAS an accident, and I’m sorry! Tell you what, why don’t you give me a whack with the cane, and we’re even.’

‘No, Nutty Netty, me whacking your bare arse wouldn’t make us even. I don’t care if it was an accident; you shouldn’t even have opened my bedroom door without knocking. You need proper punishment.’

‘Oooh, I knew Mr Tommy Top-Man wouldn’t be able to resist me sooner or later. Are you feeling super strict?’

‘Stop pissing about, Netia; you know you crossed a line. Did you seriously imagine I’d just laugh this off?’

‘Okay, okay, Tommy Tear-Ass, I’ll admit I was a little naughty in opening the door. But the rest was accidental, honest. You can punish me a little.’ Netia flashed him a look of feigned innocence. ‘Go easy on me, Dommy Tommy, Sir.’ Netia gave a sarcastic wiggle of her head.

‘Right, take off that shirt and those jeans, and stand in the corner, nose to the wall, with your hands on your head.’

‘Tommy! There’s no fucki...’

Tommy’s interjection was sharp. ‘Button it, Netia, and do as you’re told for once.’

‘Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir. Whatever the fuck you say, Sir.’

‘That was “button it”, as in shut the fuck up.’

Netia mimed zipping up her lips in a sarcastic and flamboyant manner. Then she locked her eyes on Tommy’s and unbuttoned her shirt seductively, slipping it off her shoulders to reveal a sheer bra that did little to veil her firm little breasts and dark nipples. She was skinny, but her light-brown waist curved out teasingly to a pair of slim, sensual hips. She began to unbutton her jeans.

‘Like what you see, Tomm...’

‘I said button it, Netia.’ She started to button her jeans back up again, beaming with pleasure at her mischief.

‘Button your mouth, Netia, not your fucking jeans!’

Netia made a sarcastic pinching movement over her lips as if to button them up, then resumed her enticing strip. She turned her back to Tommy, glancing over her shoulder as she eased her jeans over her firm little backside and swooshed them down her slim brown legs, stepping out to one side in a pirouette. Then, springing en pointe, Netia thrust her perfect little bottom towards Tommy in a wriggle, stretching her toned legs to show them off. Her sheer panties matched her bra. Netia looked back to Tommy, fixing her eyes immediately on the erection now manifest in his tight underpants. She pursed her lips sarcastically, giving a disapproving wag of her finger at Tommy’s obvious arousal.

‘Corner!’ Tommy’s command was an attempt to regain control. He’d known feral cats that were more compliant. Netia took three leaps into the corner, showing some genuine skill and holding her arms balletically in the air before bringing them to rest on her head. Her performance was an artistic display, light in movement as it was heavy on irony. The lithe sweepings of her body transfixed Tommy.

Tommy couldn’t remember which way around it was, but one of Netia’s parents came to England from Pakistan to study at university. The other was white, English and Jewish, and studied at the same institution. Netia defied any such easy categorisations. It was as though she were from everywhere and nowhere. She worked as an analyst for a City firm, though what she analysed Tommy could not recall. It was clear the job bored her, and she’d be off to do something altogether more stimulating with her sizable brain as soon as she’d worked out what that something was. Tommy pondered that her physical and artistic brilliance stood equal to her considerable intellect. Little wonder she wasn’t rushing to commit to a career path, given her vast array of options. Netia resisted comparison because she was, in nearly every aspect, at one extreme or another. That isn’t to say she’d have struck anyone as imbalanced, but her balance arose from being at those different extremes in various aspects. She was fiercely intelligent, strikingly beautiful, thinner than a whisp, off-the-scale kinky, sexually fearless, openly dismissive of anything that bored her, and incapable of aligning with any expectation.

‘I’m not going to stand here all fucking day while you perv at my ass, Tommy Tardy-Boy.’

Tommy’s rude awakening from his musings was a reminder that, with Netia, nothing was ever straightforward.

‘You’ll stay there for as long as it pleases me, you mouthy little mother of all nightmares.’

‘Fuck off, Tommy; I said you could punish me. A bit. Not bore me to fucking death.’

‘You’re a shit sub, Netia; you can’t even do that properly. You’ll stay in that corner and learn some fucking patience. I need to grab a few things from my room.’

Netia stayed in the corner but started writhing up and down with her arse jutted out like a pole dancer, trying to taunt as much as to entice.

Tommy shook his head and went to his room; he picked up the insanely expensive hairbrush Rebecca had bought him for his last birthday and a thick leather belt.

In the few moments it took him to go to his room, collect his things and return, Netia had disappeared.

‘Very funny, Netia; you can come out now.’

Silence.

The first time Tommy met Netia was when Peter randomly texted him to see if he was free for lunch one Saturday. Peter was in a large, smart, under-utilised cafe in a part of London that had tried to rebrand itself as “Noho” because it was North of Soho, but it had never quite turned that branding conceit into a coherent culture. Netia had flashed her eyes at Tommy as he sat down with them at the table. ‘But Peter, you told me Tommy was good-looking, or is that another Tommy?’ Peter had laughed indulgently. Tommy made the weak joke that Peter should stop his obsession with dating girls from charm school. Peter and Netia insisted they weren’t dating; their manner was casual enough to be convincing. ‘Only kidding, Tommy, don’t worry, you’re a hot boy. Just a pity about your taste in shirts.’ And so, the dynamic between Netia and Tommy was forged in a fire of facetiousness.

‘Netia, the longer you hide away, the longer I’ll tan your hide when I find you. And I WILL find you.’

Given the minutes that had already passed, Tommy’s assertions only highlighted his confoundment at the apparent vanishing of Netia into thin air. The stairs, not carpeted like the bedrooms, were even creakier than the floorboards on the landing, and not even the faintest of sounds emerged from either place in the few moments Tommy had taken to go to his room. She HAD to be in her bedroom somewhere. He’d checked Netia’s wardrobes and behind her curtains: nothing. There was no space under her bed.

For a girl who preached atheism with zeal, it occurred to Tommy that Netia frequently talked about her Hindu roots. There weren’t many Hindus in Pakistan, apparently, and Tommy started to fantasise that Netia might be an Aspara, a beautiful, supernatural dancer of Hindu legend. Or, in Netia’s case, an intensely irritating, fucking gorgeous, supernatural dancer.

Tommy’s musings were interrupted by a deep, muffled voice coming from somewhere in the room he struggled to locate.

‘Tommy!’ The voice boomed. ‘This is God! You’re an absolute sad sack of a loser. You must worship the supreme being, Netia, and let her whip your sorry ass whenever it pleases her.’

Netia couldn’t hold the deep voice for long, and it gave way to something much closer to her natural voice before breaking into a giggle that was unmistakably hers. It was coming from the foot of the bed where there was an ottoman so narrow Tommy could barely believe even Netia would squeeze into its hold. Rolling his eyes, he lifted the ottoman’s lid, revealing Netia squeezed inside, looking less than comfortable. She was convulsing in giggles at her foxing of Tommy, and she looked so cute he could have climbed in and fucked her right there if only he were small enough to have fitted.

‘Very amusing. You’re such a lanky strip of fuck-all that I was beginning to think a passing midge had eaten you.’

Tommy held his hand out for Netia, and she took it, prancing clean out of the ottoman as though she weighed less than the tissue from a shoebox.

‘Right, it’s time for you to go over my knee, young lady. And for your disappearing trick, you’ll get twelve strokes of my hairbrush and a further twelve of my belt. But first, I’m going to warm that bottom up with a good spanking.’

Tommy sat on the side of Netia’s bed. Before he could pull her onto his knee, she lept across it and started to wiggle her delicious little bottom in his face.

‘Oh, Tommy Tufty, is that a raging erection I feel in your lap? Would you like a few moments to yourself to sort that out? We don’t want you wetting your pants again. Knew you couldn’t resist me.’

‘Now, if my punishment gets too intense, say “you win,” if you can’t bear it and you want it to stop, say “I lose,” got it?’

‘Yes, sir. Too intense “I win,” stop altogether, “you lose.”’

‘Nice try, Netia. You’ll say the safe words properly, or I won’t respond.’

Tommy discharged five quick spanks across Netia’s butt cheeks, then ran his fingertips over the sheer fabric of her panties. She flexed each butt cheek in turn, pushing them into his fingertips. She had barely reacted to Tommy’s first efforts.

‘Come on, Tommy Gunner, spank me; I’ve been such a wicked girl.’ Her gyrations were teasing the side of her hip into Tommy’s tumescent tool. ‘Go on, Tommy; I can feel you’re enjoying this.’

Tommy fired a quick burst of fifteen spanks on alternate cheeks, getting progressively firmer until he was spanking forcefully.

‘Ouch! You’re so masterful, Tom Thumper. Is my little bottom starting to glow?’

‘Well, we’ll find out as these panties are coming off.’

‘Careful, Tommy Trigger-Happy, that may just cause you to blow your load.’

Netia gyrated her hip into Tommy’s cock once again before pulling her knees together and pushing her pert posterior up at him, taunting him to pull off her panties as if she couldn’t care less. Tommy tried to be clinical as he hooked his thumbs under her waistband and bared her cheeks. But the sight of Netia’s neat labia, teasingly framed as her butt cheeks curved in to meet her inner thighs, was making his heart pound. The rush of blood to Tommy’s head was starting to aggravate his hangover.

‘What do you think of my purty lil’ pussy, Tommy Turmoil? Remember, you’re punishing me; you can look, but no touchy-touchy.’

With that, she wagged her little ass at Tommy again, enticing him with her perfect privates.

‘The only thing you’ll be feeling is the crack of my hand on your butt cheeks. I am going to teach you not to sneak into my room. You WILL learn that lesson, Netia.’

‘Ooo, give me your lesson, Tommy Teacher, and make it a hard one, hard boy.’

Tommy could see the blush on her cheeks from his previous spanks; irritated by her constant sarcasm, he unleashed spank after spank, giving Netia’s backside an intense and thorough going over. Netia squirmed a little and gave out brief yelps. Though it still seemed to Tommy that there was more than an edge of sarcasm to each noise she made. Briefly, he paused, running his fingernails lightly across Netia’s burning bottom as she purred and writhed in response. Then, wincing a little at the effect of the exertion on his delicate head, Tommy upped the intensity further.

‘Ouch! Tommy. Tough-Guy. I must. Have, owww! Been such. Ah! A bad girl. To deserve. A severe. Spanking. Ouch! Like this.’ Netia’s words came out in staccato bursts between Tommy’s blows. She’d spread her legs wider now but kept her back arched to push her bottom bravely towards Tommy, suggesting she could take all he could give and more.

Tommy opened his mouth to begin another stern admonishment when he saw that Netia had thrust her hand between her legs and pulled her lips apart, vigorously teasing her clit. His hand froze in the air.

‘Netia! You are absolutely not supposed to be fucking enjoying this!’

‘Oh! but I am, Tommy Turn-On. You’re so masterful. You can’t stop me from touching myself. In fact, I’ll bet you’re desperate to touch my little cunty-wunty, aren’t you? Don’t deny it, Tommy Trembler, that straining cock of yours is even worse at lying than your mouth.’

‘Right!’ Tommy was exasperated. ‘You can get up and do some more corner time. When I’m ready, you’ll get a dose of the hairbrush and the belt. Then we’ll see who’s straining.’

Netia lept to her feet and walked almost en-pointe to the corner with her hands in the air. With her back to Tommy and the rosy glow of her cheeks contrasting with her light-brown skin, she slid her left hand up the wall seductively and braced herself as she thrust her chastised backside out with a confidence that was anything but submissive. Theatrically, she twirled her right hand down between her legs again and continued to tease her pussy, letting out the occasional moan of delight. Tommy’s hands shot to the back of his neck, trying to relieve the pain the arousal was now inflicting on his overindulged head.

‘Go on, Tommy Tight-Todger, admit you want to play with my pussy, don’t you. Oooh! I’ll let you touch me, Tommy, but first, you must say the passcode.’

Tommy was massaging his temples now; the arousal was making his head buzz, and it felt as though every beat of his heart was pumping more blood into the veins in his temples and cock. If he didn’t touch Netia, if he didn’t give her a really hard fucking, Tommy felt he might explode. Tommy was breathing so deeply he was sure Netia could hear it between her moans.

‘Don’t you want to know the passcode, Tommy? You only have to ask.’

Argh!! Godammit Netia. You. Are. So. Fucking. Frustrating! What’s the fucking passcode?!’

‘What’s the fucking passcode, please!’

‘Fuck! Okay! What’s the fucking passcode. Please.’ Now Tommy was sounding sarcastic.

‘The passcode is: “Tommy loses, Netia wins.” If you say it exactly like that, Tommy, you can touch me. I’ll even let you fuck me, Tommy Torment. If you’re a very lucky boy.’

Torment was right. Tommy was agonised by his desire for Netia. Every delicate vein and muscle, sore with the excesses of the alcohol from the night before, was beating in unison, forcing Tommy to seek release.

‘Alright. I’ll fall for it, Netia; I’ll ask for your fucking passcode. But first, I’m going to give you twelve damn hard strokes of my hairbrush, followed by twelve of my belt. I’ll have you lie across a pillow on the bed for your punishment.’

Netia spun around triumphantly, launching herself over the pillow with a bound of enthusiasm just as soon as Tommy had placed it in position.

‘We’ll see who’s triumphant when I’ve finished beating your bottom, young lady.’

Unperturbed, Netia was playing with her pussy once again. The dark curls on her neat patch of pubic hair were teasing over her fingertips; Tommy felt they were almost mocking him with a little dance celebrating their involvement and his exclusion. Exclusion for now, at least.

Tommy ran his hand over one of Netia’s butt cheeks while circling the other with the smooth side of his hairbrush. Then he spun the hairbrush over, tapping its bristles on the target spot before lifting it and spinning it back around again. Crack! He brought down the first stroke good and hard. Netia’s cheeks clenched in response, and she let out a little yelp. But, more than anything, it seemed to invigorate her masturbation. Tommy tapped the bristles of the hairbrush on four target spots in turn.

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Spinning his brush back to the smooth side, he’d made four hard strokes in rapid succession. Netia was flinching a little.

‘Oooouch! Tommy Torturer!’

‘You can always use the safe word, Netia.’

Even as Tommy started that sentence, he could see his punishment had once again heightened Netia’s self-pleasuring.

‘But why would I use the safe word? I’m so close to orgasm, Tommy Trippy.’

Tommy made six little taps with the bristle side of his brush before spinning it once again.

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Netia squirmed between each stroke, but she was in ecstasy now. Her fingers were a blur around her clitoris. ‘Tommy. Oh, my! Tomm… Omm.’

She was coming hard and long. Tommy gave one last bristle tap.

CRACK! He unleashed the firmest stroke yet. Netia’s legs went rigid for a moment before she relaxed, softly screaming in orgasmic pleasure.

As Tommy reached for his belt, her hand slowed to a gentle, rhythmic massaging of her cunt lips, and she was mewing with sensual delight.

‘Don’t you want to feel how wet I am, Tommy? My little cunt is on fire; don’t you want to feel it pulsating? You only have to say the passcode, Tommy Thirsty-Boy.’

‘All in good time, Netia. When I’ve finished punishing you.’

Tommy was gripping the back of his neck, pondering whether his punishments were taking more out of him, in his delicate state, than they were out of Netia. He looked down at her sticky fingers still teasing into her cunt, which was bright pink on the inside, offset beautifully against the red of her cheeks and the darker brown skin between her legs.

Shaking his head twice in hopes of jolting away some of his hangover pain, Tommy looped his belt into his right hand and teased Netia’s cheeks with the leather. Netia made little circles with her hips. Her fingers were probing deep into her cunt now.

Tommy flopped the belt onto its side, using the slight roughness of the edges to pat out three target points.

Schwack! Schwack! Schwack! Tommy brought the smooth face of the belt down forcefully onto Netia’s already tender butt cheeks. She tensed after the first strike and held her breath. ‘Shit, Tommy Tawser, you’re quite good with that.’

Tommy was already tapping out the next four target spots. Netia was upping the intensity of her deep probing to match the growing power of Tommy’s punishment.

Schwack! Schwack! Schwack! Schwack! Netia let out a little squeal and dug the fingernails of her free hand hard into her quilt. She was moaning in pleasure once more. Tommy patted out two more target points.

Schwack!

Schwack!

The unexpected pause seemed to catch Netia off guard a little. She let out a little cry, and Tommy thought he could see her eyes watering. He moved back from Netia to give him a wider angle of approach and patted the edge of his belt four times, each one straddling both cheeks in different positions.

Schwack!

The first stroke landed square in the middle of Netia’s bottom. She was emitting a low wail now, perhaps half in pleasure, half in pain.

Schwack!

The second stroke landed hard and low across both butt cheeks. ‘God! Fuck! Fuck!’ She sounded pained though still ecstatic.

Schwack!

The third stroke was more diagonal. Tommy landed it a little lighter, figuring the pain where it crossed the previous two would have a more intense effect on Netia. ‘Shit! Shit! Tommy. You fucking bastard! You’re going to make me come again.’

SCHWACK!

Tommy had saved the most intense stroke until last. Netia let out a stream of sobs, managing the pain by clenching and unclenching her buttocks in a cadence that matched the rhythm of the hand working deep in her cunt.

Tommy lightly stroked her burning cheeks as she came in sobs of pleasure and pain.

Netia lay there swimming in sensual stimulation while Tommy caressed her.

‘Your little ass is burning hot. Do you have any cream I can soothe onto it?’

‘It’s in the bedside cabinet. Left one. Bottom drawer.’

Tommy opened the drawer to see an array of dildoes and other sex toys, along with various tubes and pots. The first pot he pulled out was lube. Searching around quickly, he found a large pot of arnica cream.

‘My, my! That’s quite a collection you have in there. You always did come across as a bit of a wanker.’

‘Yeah, right, Tommy Tugger. Like you never masturbate!’

Tommy soothed the arnica cream over Netia’s cheeks, massaging some to the back of his head to try to stem the pain of his hangover with its icy coolness. He took some more cream and smothered it onto the top of Netia’s legs. His heart seemed to beat harder, even as it slowed down from the exertion of punishing her. His head was pounding, and his cock twitched with each beat. Netia thrust her bottom at him once more.

‘Come on, Tommy Timidity, you know you want to touch, but you’ll have to say that passcode.’

Netia spun on her side and pulled herself up onto her hand to bring her face in front of Tommy’s. She ran her finger around his lips.

‘Come on. Don’t be a shy boy.’

Tommy was bursting with pressure and burning in agony.

‘Stop fucking about, Netia. Let’s just fuck!’

‘The passcode. You DID promise, Tricksy Tommy.’ Netia looked at Tommy with sarcastic disapproval from under her brow.

‘Fuck! Okay! You win.’

‘Nope, Tommy Try-On, you know that’s not the passcode.’

Tommy was exasperated. He fixed her with a stare and, attempting to regain some semblance of control, delivered the passcode confidently with some ironic shakes of his head, almost as though he were reeling off a football result.

‘Tommy loses, Netia wins!’

Netia slipped a hand behind Tommy’s neck, making Tommy wince a little. She moved one knee to her right now, kneeling on the bed, looking slightly down at Tommy.

‘Now that’s a better boy, isn’t it.’

She grabbed his hand and thrust it through her dark luxuriant bush into the wet folds of her pussy.

‘You’re all mine now, Tommy Toyboy.’

Netia pushed Tommy back onto the bed. His hand fell clear of her cunt, and he licked his fingers like a hungry boy who’d snuck them into a honey jar. Locking her eyes on Tommy, Netia swiftly pulled down his pants, sending his straining cock springing free.

‘Well look at that Tommy Tuck-Away! My, my, haven’t you grown into quite the big boy!’

Tommy fixated on Netia’s tight little boobs as they dangled and shook as she bent down, watching how they curved to the dark points of her nipples. She brought him back to her eyes by shooting him a firm look and licked his cock from the balls to the tip before taking it deep into her mouth. Letting his cock free, she swung around, flipping one leg across his torso and presenting Tommy with a fine view of his handiwork before thrusting her cunt back onto his mouth and her mouth back onto his cock.

Tommy lightly spanked Netia’s wiggling arse as he buried his nose deep into her drenched cunt. Every flick of his tongue sent rivers of pain coursing through his head as the blood vessels, made tender by his over-indulgence, were forced reluctantly into action. Despite the pain, Tommy could not resist; neither could he hold back. He worked his tongue into Netia’s cunt as though it was his only route to salvation from his pain, working in a rhythm that matched how Netia was pleasuring his cock in deep, ever-quickening strokes of her mouth and tongue.

Tommy felt his balls tightening. He pushed Netia down the bed and wriggled free and onto his knees. She was on all fours and jinking her ass back in a subtle dance of seduction, not that Tommy needed any seducing. His cock raced towards Netia’s dripping little cunt. He rubbed the head around her labia as she groaned in pleasure.

‘Fuck me, Tommy Torpedo. Fuck me hard.’

‘You have been a total fucking nightmare, Netia. A very naughty girl. Naughty girls don’t deserve cock.’

‘Give me your fucking cock, now! Or I’ll bite it clean off, Tommy Twat-Tease!’

Tommy ran his cock around the edge of Netia’s cunt, moving his hips back as she thrust urgently at him, teasing her to frustration by letting it enter just a little before pulling away.

‘What’s the passcode, Netia.’

‘Fuck off! Tommy. Don’t be a fucking tosser.’

‘Come on; you know what you have to say.’

‘Fuck you! Bastard! You’d better fuck me like a fucking horse! “Netia loses; Tommy wins.” Happy now, fuckface?’

‘Now, there’s a good girl! For once.’

Tommy grabbed Netia’s long dark hair in a fistful and twisted it to become like a rope, pulling her back towards him and onto his cock. She was tight but soaking wet. Her cunt was fizzing with energy, and she pulsated it on his cock, pulling him in deep and squeezing him tightly with her pelvic muscles.

‘Got you right in my grasp now, Tommy von Trapped. Not letting you go til I’ve milked your balls down to monkey nuts.’

Tommy went to pull free to show Netia who was in charge. He was amazed at how tight her grip proved to be.

‘Christ! Little Miss Tough-Twat. You’ve been working out at the gyno-gym.’

He finally pulled free and flipped Netia onto her back. The exertion made his headache flare up once again. He rubbed the back of his neck as he looked down at Netia. Tommy was pulled clean out of his self-pity by her dark, lovely, mocking eyes.

‘Is it the hangover you can’t handle, Tommy Tup-Tup? Or me?’

In truth, both his hangover and the pleasures of Netia were locked in a game of resistance and overestimation that had Tommy on the edge of what he could handle.

He pinned Netia’s wispy arms to the bed, and they fucked deeply. She was more relaxed on her back, and Tommy was freer to build up a strong rhythm.

‘Oh, fuck, Tommy. You’re so deep. That’s it, fuck me hard, Tommy.’

It was only the immense pleasure of Netia’s cunt that enabled Tommy to handle the intense pressure building in the back of his neck. He felt Netia was starting to come and knew he’d be unable to hold back. Tommy pulled out panting, eyes bulging. Lightly, slowly, he circled Netia’s clit with his thumb as she lost herself in another orgasm.

‘Hmm... Tommy! That was almost quite good.’ Netia was sporting a wicked smile.

‘You’re only moderately shit yourself. You might even be half decent if you can suck my cock and actually make me come.’

Netia licked her lips and sat up, pushing Tommy back onto the bed. Locking his eyes again, she took Tommy into her mouth, working him with the back of her throat and the length of her tongue, keeping him deep inside. Tommy tensed the muscles in the back of his neck as the pleasure built, trying to hold back the blood that wanted to rush through his tender arteries and wash across his brain in orgasm. Netia made feather-light strokes across his tightening balls with her fingertips; Tommy could hold back no longer. He tried to hold his breath, to clam up and fight the waves of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm his delicate head. But it was no use. Tommy gave way to the rush of orgasm, and two spikes of pure, evil pain exploded in the arteries at the back of his neck. But just as quickly, the healing power of his climax washed over Tommy and turned the pain into an ecstasy that made his head spin and drove the last of his hangover pangs clean from his body.

Licking her lips, Netia jumped into the crook of Tommy’s arm, pulled the covers over them, and ran her fingers across Tommy’s chest with a disarming tenderness, kissing him fully and deeply on the lips.

‘My, my, Stromboli, you were hot.’

‘And you, Nutella69, were unexpectedly delicious. On both ends.’

‘I have an idea!’ Netia was delighted with whatever she was about to share. ‘We should rename one another’s profiles. On the site!’

‘No fucking way, Netia. First of all, for someone who invents a new version of my name every other fucking sentence, you appear to be preternaturally shit at coming up with profile names. Secondly, you’ll choose some deliberately awful name to take the piss.’

‘Calm down, Tommy Troubled-Tits. Okay, rules! We have to come up with a name we think is good, not something piss-takey. But then, we have to keep the name the other has chosen for a least a week. Deal?’

‘Can’t we just lie here enjoying the moment?’

‘Yes, of course. While we rename one another’s profiles!’

‘Okay. You’re obviously not going to give me any peace otherwise. You do realise men are supposed to sleep after a fuck. No? Never mind. Pass me your fucking phone, and I’ll log you in.’

Netia hands Tommy her phone. Tommy taps in his login details, handing it back. Netia sucks her bottom lip thoughtfully.

‘Christ, Netia, how long do you need? You can do the fucking Rubik’s Cube in less than a minute, no?’

‘Shut up. I’ve got it. There, see?’

‘“Piper-Alpha”, what the fuck?!’

‘Well, Tom, Tom, the piper’s son. Who’s an alpha male. See?’

‘Err... what I do see is that “Piper Alpha” is the name of the worst-ever North Sea oil disaster. And only marginally thick, emotionally stunted tossers care to fool themselves they’re top ape. I have to keep that for a week?!’

‘Perfect! You’re explosive stuff, Tommy. The alpha thing is tongue-in-cheek, obviously. And yes. A week minimum.’

‘Okay, think I can bear that. You’d better log me into your account.’

Netia taps at her phone.

‘There you go. We’re coming up with GOOD names, remember?’

‘Miss Piper-Alpha Disaster is warning me? Right. There. Easy.’

‘That WAS quick! Hmm… “Stinging Nettle” shouldn’t that be “Stinging Netty”?

‘No. You don’t have to force the Netty bit down people’s throats. That’s a surefire way to make any name teeth-curlingly shite. And Stinging Nettle is the perfect name for a barbed wisp like you.’

‘Hmm… I like it, Mr Tommy Thesaurus. Think I’ll keep it.’