Sophie’s breath quickened as the scent of her sex wafted over that of the expensive leather sofa she was nestled on. As her right index finger danced, dervish-like, around her most sensitive spot, she felt warm juices trickle between her thighs onto the black leather. It had to be leather - she couldn't risk leaving a stain!

That delicious sense of filth and shame, the danger of discovery adding to the frisson, took her back to when she first discovered the joys of self pleasure in her pink teenage bedroom, her groans muted in case her mother or brothers overheard. But now she was alone. Alone in someone else's house.....just ten minutes after the last viewing of the day! 

Much as she loved her job, relishing the competition for commission, the plaudits from the partners, there were times when the pressure became too much. She needed a release, the thrill of chancing it in a client's expensive house.....her pale complexion reddened and her gasps turned to moans, then to cries of bliss as unspeakable joy washed through her slight, shapely frame, leaving her flushed and panting on the warm, damp leather.

“What in Heaven's name?!”

Sophie started. Mr Clifford must have let himself in whilst her moment of pleasure had dulled her senses to the world around her! But here he was, a vision of shock, anger and embarrassment as he gazed, blinking, at the attractive, petite 22-year old estate agent on his sofa, pencil skirt hitched up around her hips, pale blue panties on the floor, and thighs still parted to reveal her delicate, shaven and moist slit. 

But before he could frame his next sentence he saw something beside her, camouflaged against the black hide of the sofa arm: his wife's heavy three-tailed lochgelly tawse! Now his own embarrassment matched Sophie's.

“I.....” Sophie stopped herself, as she awkwardly closed her legs. There was nothing to say. She had been caught pleasuring herself in a client's house! Her heart raced and she felt faint as guilt, shame and fear flooded her dopamine-drenched brain. It was as though her whole world had melted away in those few seconds of pulsating bliss, and now the stark, unwavering consequences of her behaviour stared at her from across the room.

“You don't need to say anything, young lady,” said Mr Clifford, angrily. “You need to make yourself decent and get out of my house!”

Sophie shuffled awkwardly into a sitting position, closing her legs as she reached down for her underwear.

“Hmmm....I see you have been going through our under-stairs cupboard,” continued Mr Clifford pensively, his voice losing a little of its damning authority as his eyes returned to the tawse. He stood in awkward silence, imagining smutty conversations between slick, hair-gelled estate agents: the respectable retired Head Teacher of Smallgrove acting out his public school fantasies with his domineering wife. The couple planned to remain local after downsizing and paying off their sizable mortgage, and in a small commuter town like Warmingham, word would soon get around!

All this time, Sophie's eyes were slowly filling with tears. Surely she would lose her job. And then there was her reputation - as the only woman in a competitive, testosterone-fuelled workplace, she could only guess at the misogynistic humour that would attach to her name for years to come. Would she ever be able to work again in the business she'd come to love? Yet Mr Clifford's last comment gave her hope. He looked almost as mortified as Sophie, and clearly didn't want the world to know of his and his wife’s erotic practices. It wasn't just the tawse - she'd also found several other implements in the same cupboard, including a fearsome crook-handled school cane!

“Foolish girl!” he said in an avuncular, admonishing tone. “It would be a great shame if one lewd act ended a young career, so I don't intend to say any more about the matter. In retur,n I expect complete discretion from you about what you found in our cupboard. Is that understood?” Sophie nodded. “Now, please adjust your clothing, clean up the filthy mess on my sofa and be on your way.”

“Thank you, Sir,” mumbled Sophie as she hurriedly and nervously pulled on her panties and shuffled her tight skirt down well-toned thighs. As she stood up, her red face was drawn to the large, glistening patch she had left on the sofa. “Err...do you have something to...?” she muttered.

“Wait a moment,” sighed Mr Clifford as he passed through the double doors into the large kitchen, returning a few seconds later with a cloth and anti-bacterial spray. Sophie's shame reached new heights as she sprayed and wiped her own juices from the sofa. She glanced at the vicious-looking leather tawse that still lay close to where she was cleaning.

“Here,” said Sophie in an embarrassed near-whisper as she handed the cleaning materials back to Mr Clifford, “I'd better be going.” But she remained rooted to the spot, as if she had something to say but couldn't quite find the words.

“Well, is there something you wish to say?” asked the older gentleman.

“Err....well, I just wanted to say how sorry I am, and…” she glanced at the tawse once again. “It's none of my business, and I shouldn't have been prying, but I can see that you and Mrs Clifford own a number of instruments of punishment, and…” her voice quivered a little and her gaze fell to the floor, “you've been so kind and understanding, and it doesn't seem right that I should escape all consequences....” Her voice tailed off to a whisper, and she shuffled uneasily on the spot.

Now it was Mr Clifford's turn to look uncomfortable. 

“If I understand you correctly, Sophie, you are asking for....well, you have correctly perceived that my wife Jacqueline and I engage in - to use the current terminology - BDSM and spanking, but I prefer to call it by its old-fashioned name: corporal punishment.”

Sophie nodded. Her embarrassment had eased a little now that Mr Clifford had acknowledged his predilections, and she was starting to feel a little excited at the prospect of submission to this handsome older man. She had nursed secret fantasies of spanking for years, and was obviously far too young to have been on the receiving end of any kind of physical chastisement when growing up.

Mr Clifford was already becoming tumescent at the thought of chastising the lovely young lady who looked so sorrowful and submissive under his stern gaze.

 “I can see no reason not to agree to your request,” he said softly. “As you have admitted, you thoroughly deserve a good hiding, and so long as it is fully consensual....” He hesitated, looking pensive. “However, it would not be proper to engage in any activity of this nature without my wife present. She will have to consent, and to be quite honest, I expect her to take full control of the situation.”

Sophie swallowed. She had yet to meet Jacqueline Clifford, but knew her to be a formidable lady, Senior Partner of a local firm of solicitors who represented many of her firm's clients and purchasers. She wasn't worried about the confidentiality aspect (the Cliffords both had at least as much to lose as Sophie), but the thought of how Mrs Clifford would react to her transgression truly frightened her.

Mr Clifford read the fear in Sophie's countenance and smiled.

“Don't be afraid, Sophie. I'm well aware of my wife's reputation, and I can tell you from personal experience that she is not to be messed with. But she has a gentle side and is very careful to observe good practice. There will most certainly be a 'safe word', and there will be no adverse consequences should you need to use it. You and I both know you deserve severe discipline, but Jacquie will be fair and reasonable. I confidently expect you to take your punishment like the good girl I know you are.”

A solitary tear appeared on Sophie's right cheek as Mr Clifford's kindness rekindled the guilt and shame she felt. She tried to imagine how much her discipline was going to hurt, and was determined to take it bravely if not stoically. 

“Thank you so much, sir,” she mumbled as she wiped her eyes and sat down to put her shoes on, “I know I deserve whatever punishment you and Mrs Clifford think appropriate, and will take it as well as I can.”

“That's good to hear,” said Mr Clifford. “Now, you need to be on your way. If you don't hear otherwise, I'd like you back here at 5.30pm tomorrow - you can always tell your boss I've asked to meet you. Jacqueline should be home then, and we can discuss your punishment in more detail. I should warn you that Jacqueline rarely punishes immediately - she will, in all probability, give you a good dressing down, then pass sentence and make you wait at least 24 hours before returning for another appointment. It's all part of her brand of sadism, I'm afraid. You'll need to set aside another evening for the execution of your punishment.”

As Sophie left the lovely Edwardian detached house, crisp autumn leaves wafting weightlessly around her feet, she felt a sense of unreality. Within the space of fifteen minutes her emotions had soared from blissful abandon to the utmost shame and embarrassment, before settling on a mixture of relief, fear and exhilaration as she anticipated two appointments with the notorious Jacqueline Clifford!

The next day was a quiet, rainy Tuesday, with few viewings but plenty of phone calls to make. Sophie was unusually quiet. She would not know until that evening the severity of her punishment or how long she would have to wait. More importantly, she would be meeting Mrs Clifford in the worst possible circumstances! She had heard many stories from colleagues who had been at the wrong end of her sharp tongue for minor administrative errors. How horrible would she be to Sophie, and how would it colour their future business dealings?

“You Ok, Soph?” asked Alex, the Managing Partner. He took a fatherly interest in Sophie, who was his most promising negotiator. On the wall of their office was a 'league table' of deals closed, with Sophie currently a close second among the six staff. 

“Oh, fine. Busy day yesterday, but no offers.” Sophie tried to sound calm and professional. “I'm just wondering who to call to get some more interest in Hazel Gardens.” 

“That's that attitude I like to see! Said Alex.” Go through the database - we’ll find a buyer for that place, and at £750K there's a nice wedge of commission waiting for you if you can close the deal.” That made her feel better. So long as the partners had faith in her, Sophie knew she'd deliver, and she really wanted to make amends for her indiscretion.

She left work just after 5.00 for once - she'd worked enough late evenings not to need to prove anything - and headed straight to Hazel Gardens to learn her fate. As she got out of the Mini she felt herself shaking with fear - mainly of Mrs Clifford's anger, but also at the thought of reliving the previous day's events...not to mention having to then wait for a punishment which, although safe and consensual, would inevitably be painful and humiliating.

After twenty seconds or so the dark blue door opened to reveal a formidable-looking lady in her early fifties, dark hair in a bun, dressed professionally in a tight black skirt and white blouse. She peered condescendingly at Sophie through her large bifocals. 

“M..Mrs Clifford?” stammered Sophie, “I'm Sophie Taylor from Blake Thomas.”

“Yes, I know who you are. You'd better come inside. Leave your shoes on the doormat.” Jacqueline Clifford’s tone was haughty but not angry. Sophie began to feel a little calmer as she followed Jacqueline through to the kitchen, where Mr Clifford was seated at the table.

“David has told me about your behaviour yesterday. We are both extremely upset and disappointed, particularly in view of your firm's failure to secure any offers in nearly three weeks on the market. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I'm truly sorry, Mrs Clifford. There is no excuse for what I did, and I will accept whatever penalty you think is due.”

“I can see you are genuinely remorseful, which is good to see,” Jacqueline continued, with a subtle smile and a glint in her eye.”We run a tight household here, enforced by a system of domestic discipline, as I understand my husband has already explained. And, yes, it does overlap into our sex lives, but we both just think of it as painful corporal punishment. And that is what you are to receive, assuming you willingly consent to it.”

Sophie nodded.

“Do you mind telling me whether you are in a relationship?” enquired Jacqueline. Sophie nodded again. “The reason I ask is that your punishment is going to be quite severe, assuming you go through with it, and will leave marks which will remain for about three to five days. All of us want complete discretion in this matter, so you will need to refrain from sex with your partner for a few days at least. Will that be a problem?”

Sophie swallowed hard and looked uneasy. She was going to be bruised by her beating!

“Err...well, Carl's away on a training course tomorrow, and not getting back till late Friday” said Sophie. “I can always pretend to be ill on Saturday and Sunday if I'm still marked, so if we did it today or tomorrow…”

“Not today,” Jacqueline cut in, sternly. “Part of your punishment is to have to wait at least a day in anticipation after I have passed sentence.”

“Your discipline session will take place tomorrow evening after work, and I suggest you set aside an hour.” Sophie swallowed as her heart sped up - how can it take an hour? That sounds like torture! But she nodded her assent. 

“Don't worry, you are not going to be beaten for a full hour. Even we're not that cruel,” said Jacqueline in a more friendly tone, “and in any case, you'll be given a safe word, so you can stop at any time you choose. There will be no ill consequences should you need to use your safe word. However, you have requested this punishment, which is very much for your own benefit, so I hope you are able to withstand it.” 

“Yes, Mrs Clifford.” 

“You will address me as Madam,” snapped Jacqueline, “and my husband as Sir, until your castigation is complete. Is that clear?” 

Sophie nodded. “Yes, sorry, Madam.”

“Your punishment will be in three parts” continued Jacqueline, her voice quickening with sadistic anticipation as her crotch dampened. “As you were so intrigued by my tawse, you will obviously want to sample the pain that is so familiar to generations of Scots. The first part of your punishment will therefore be six strokes of the tawse, three on each hand. Please don't underestimate how much that implement will hurt - it still shocks me that even junior teachers were allowed to inflict such punishment in the classroom.” Beads of sweat began to appear on Sophie's forehead.

“As it was Mr Clifford who had to endure looking at your private parts yesterday, it only seems right that he should have the satisfaction of administering the second part of your punishment, and it will take place on the same leather sofa where you enjoyed yourself so much. Well, you won't be enjoying yourself next time you are on that sofa, I can assure you! You will endure twelve hard strokes on the unclothed behind with this implement…” She left the kitchen and returned a few seconds later holding the same evil-looking crook-handled school cane that Sophie had seen in the under-stair cupboard. It must have been 3 feet long and close to half an inch thick. Jacqueline suddenly made a practice swing that cut through the air with a violent 'swoosh'. Sophie flinched. 

“The strokes will be delivered slowly, in two groups of six, with a five-minute break in between. I expect Mr Clifford to deliver the strokes at maximum force.” In saying this, she shot a piercing glare at her husband. It was all too obvious what the consequences would be for David if his wife was not content with his handiwork!

Now it was Sophie’s turn to feel her panties moistening. Jacqueline's detailed descriptions of her forthcoming chastisement were both frightening and exquisitely exciting to her young mind, and her arousal grew as Jacqueline went on.

“After you have had a moment to recover, we will proceed upstairs to the bedroom. There, I will complete your discipline with an old-fashioned maternal spanking, something that I suspect was sorely missing from your upbringing. Of course, I won't be using my hand, as that would hurt me, and I'm not the one who needs punishment. No, I think this should do the trick.” At this, she reached over the countertop and picked up a large wooden clothes brush, which she proceeded to smack menacingly into her left palm. “I won't give a set number of spanks. Just enough to make sure you have truly learnt your lesson. Of course, your bottom will be in quite a state by then, so I won't be unduly harsh, but you can expect it to sting like the Dickens!”

“Once your punishment is complete, you will be forgiven, and from that point we will be on first-name terms. David and I are certain to be aroused and will want to stay in the bedroom. Should you have the time and inclination, you will be welcome to join us for some rather more pleasurable activities!” She smiled mischievously as Sophie gaped in amazement at this invitation.

As Sophie walked back to her ca,r she felt dazed, as if she were in a lucid dream. Was this really happening? Had she really just agreed to submit to severe corporal punishment and then join a middle-aged couple for a threesome? Fear mingled with excitement and shame, as her hormones surged and her already damp panties became drenched. It seemed like an age had passed since the dreadful mortification and fear she had felt when Mr Clifford appeared. 

As soon as she was back in the car, she phoned Carl - tonight was the last chance they'd have for perhaps a week, and wasn’t going to waste it!

“This must be like having your last meal before your execution” thought Sophie with a mischievous smile, as Carl's hand slipped between her thighs. As their tongues danced and caressed each other, she felt a finger slide effortlessly into her hot, wet love passage. 

“Ooooh,” Sophie moaned as Carl expertly massaged her G spot. As her thighs instinctively parted her short skirt rode up her hips. Carl quickly helped her out of her panties, and before she even had time to get her bra off his head was between those gorgeous thighs. She felt Carl’s tongue dancing dyonisian circles around her fertile pussy.

'I'm in heaven....'  thought Sophie, as Carl’s tongue expertly ploughed the furrows either side of her clit, whilst two (or was it three?) fingers stretched her opening and massaged her most sensitive inner regions, 'but tomorrow I'll get to experience heaven and hell in the space of an hour!' Her breathing grew deeper and turned into guttural grunts as her love nectar soaked into the bed sheets. Carl paused to undress, his vein-bound shaft already rock hard and oozing pre-come.

“Soissant-neuf?” Carl suggested with a mischievous smile. Sophie almost said 'no, fuck me now!' but she was determined to make this moment last, as if it had the power to delay her appointment with agony. 'If my session tomorrow is to last an hour, let's see if I can make this last an hour!' she thought as she smelt his musky, moist glans and opened her mouth.

Carl's tongue flicked and darted all around her lips and clit, punctuated by occasional excursions along her perineum to skirt the edges of her puckered ring. Sophie's hand gripped the base of Carl's granite cock whilst her tongue teased and tasted the wet, salty edges as it slid piston-like into her salivating mouth. Her senses were overwhelmed as Carl's scent heightened the raw tactile pleasure of his tongue. She lifted her hips, bucking animalistically as she forced her raw, hungry pussy against Carl's mouth. They both knew her time was coming, but Carl knew how to keep her tantalisingly on the threshold. He lifted himself up, stroking the inside of Sophie's thighs as she let out a yearning groan. 

“Not yet, baby,” he whispered, as Sophie rolled over and knelt on all fours, thrusting out her dripping hole.

This was too much for Carl, and he grunted in relief as he entered, a million nerve endings tingling with Sophie’s silky wet warmth. Her pussy queefed as he thrust urgently, vibrations shaking the whole room, fingers digging into firm breasts, cries of joy, can't stop...spasms of bliss...oblivion. Carl collapsed, panting hoarsely on Sophie's back. As usual, he had come first. That didn't bother Sophie because she knew what he could do with his tongue. In fact, she took a secretly sadistic delight in making him lick up his own semen. Not that it bothered Carl - he had his own sexual secrets and rather enjoyed the taste!

Carl luxuriated in the sweet smell of Sophie's hormones as his nose explored the soft valley between her still-protruding buttocks. She always kept her rim scrupulously clean, and Carl had no qualms about licking her tight, wrinkled orifice before moving down to enjoy the main course! Sophie smelt different now of course - not just the scent of his own come, which had started to ooze out, but her own love juices seemed more pungent than ever. Sophie turned over and lay on her back, legs splayed wide and slid a pillow under her pelvis. 

“There. Finish me with your tongue!” she panted. Carl wasted no time exploring the proudly presented outer regions of her sex, his tongue sliding effortlessly through milky love-dew, eliciting guttural groans before he even touched her clit. He kept her waiting, moving between labia and salty depths, but avoiding the spot that he knew would take her over the edge. When he finally yielded to temptation, the effect was electric. He felt powerful muscles contracting as her pelvis thrust rhythmically against his mouth. 

“Ah, oooh, oooh," moaned Sophie as the rising tide of delight began to wash over her reddening neck and face. “Oh Carl. Carl baby, Oh my God….”

But Carl stopped. He loved to bring her to the very edge of the chasm, leaving her begging, pleading....

“Go on, please!” But Carl waited. He knew her peak would be even higher if she was forced to wait. He gently began massaging with his fingers, deep inside the well. He smelt the sweet scent of her juices as they amassed on the fine white sheet. 

“Ah, Aaagh!” Sophie’s cries turned to guttural grunts as his three fingers massaged her G spot. At this signal he brought his tongue back into the fray, more violent now in its assault on Sophie's erect clitoris. “Oh my God, I'm coming! Yes.....yes....Aaaah...ooooh...oooh.” Sophie's juices projected into Carl's open mouth. She had never squirted before - not as far as she was aware - but this had been special. All that stress, worry, tension and relief reenacted in maybe 30 minutes of unparalleled bliss.

“That sounded like a good one,” said Carl as he lay down beside her, and she turned over. 

‘That may not have lasted an hour’ thought Sophie, her brain swimming in myriad hormones, ‘but every stroke of the cane, every smack of that evil clothes brush, will seem worthwhile after that!’ 

At least that was what she hoped, as she tucked in the clean base sheet - there was no way either of them wanted to sleep on that wet patch!

The next day saw Sophie in better spirits. Sweet memories of the previous night mingled with anticipation of thrills to come later that day. She knew it was going to be painful, but she also knew she was going to be exploring 'virgin' territory in the expanding world of her burgeoning sexuality. Although the Cliffords were both more than double her age, she felt strangely attracted to both of them - David's grey hair and schoolmasterly air of authority threw his handsome, finely boned features and firm, slender physique into relief. The surprise of learning that he was the submissive party in their relationship only added to his appeal. As for Jacqueline - well, Sophie had never been aware of any lesbian tendencies, but she couldn't escape being aroused by the older woman's air of matronly indignation at their meeting. It was the thought of the tawse that did it - the fact that she would have to look into Madam's eyes as she held out her hands and watched the evil leather weapon lift high above her shoulder!

“What time's that viewing in Cuthbert Street?” asked Dominic, the new junior negotiator Sophie had been asked to mentor. Sophie started, returning with a jolt to the mundane reality of the office. 

“Oh, ten past ten - you'd better get going,” replied Sophie as she went through her own appointments list. She was particularly looking forward to her 1.00 and 1.30 viewings...at Hazel Gardens! She'd been told by Alex, who set up the appointment, that at least one of the clients was likely to be there. She thought of the knowing glances she would share with either or both of them - hopefully between viewings there would be stern words to heighten her fear and excitement!

Sophie rang the doorbell and waited. Jacqueline opened the door, dressed casually in jeans and a black top. She smiled knowingly at Sophie as she invited her in. 

“I trust you'll be behaving yourself today?” she said as they went through to the kitchen.

“Yes, Mrs. Clifford...I mean, Madam,” replied Sophie, correcting herself quickly. She was both excited and terrified about what was to come later that day. But for now, she had a job to do and needed to remain professional. One of the appointments was a second viewing, so there was a possibility she could secure an offer on the property that day. Whether that would lead to a more lenient punishment was another matter...and whether she wanted a more lenient punishment was another question altogether. Until she experienced her first dose of corporal punishment, she wouldn't know how the pain and sexual excitement would feed off of each other. All she knew is that there would be pain, and hopefully pleasure, but that she wouldn't be in control. She was entering a new world of submission and discipline, and she could feel herself moistening as adrenalin heightened her arousal.

“No second thoughts about this evening I hope?” probed Jacqueline.

“No, Madam,” stammered Sophie. “Mr and Mrs Belcher should be here soon. They're in a good position with a cash buyer for their property, but I'm not sure their budget will stretch to your asking price. Then we've got the second viewing for the Kahns - they seem very keen, so let's see what happens.”

“Yes,” said Jacqueline with a mischievous smile. “Let's hope you can redeem yourself a little. But your punishment stands either way.” She wasn't smiling now. Her air of matronly menace had returned, and there was an awkward silence, eventually interrupted by the sound of Mr Belcher's BMW outside.

Sophie had to return to the office after her last viewing at Hazel Gardens and then move on to some other viewings. This suited her, as it created a boundary between her professional role and the pain and pleasure to come. 

One side of her wished she had maintained that boundary to start with! It wasn't just fear of the pain and humiliation - the fear was real, but it mingled like a pungent scent with anticipation of the pleasures to follow. No, it was more a queasiness about letting her sex life come so perilously close to being exposed and ruining her career. 

“I deserve only pain, not sex,” she muttered out loud as she parked her Mini outside the dreary 1960s block of flats where she had two viewings that afternoon. But as she said it, she felt a thrill run down her spinal cord and another dampening or her crotch. It was now 2.00pm, and 5.00 could not come fast enough! If only she'd had some spare underwear...

Sophie realised she had to get rid of her wet panties before the stain started to show through her skirt. She was wearing a tight pencil skirt, chosen for her appointment with the Cliffords, so going commando wasn't too risky. Of course, it might be seen as disrespectful by her tormentors at Hazel Gardens, but that just added to the thrill! She awkwardly lowered her panties before leaving her car, and held them tightly in her right hand as she surreptitiously disposed of them in the large dustbins around the back of the block. She then let herself into the empty, soulless one-bedroom apartment and went to the bathroom. To her relief, there was toilet paper, so she was able to dry herself before the young property investor arrived. 

After her final viewing of the day, she was free to go. Her pussy had begun to flow again, even during her last appointment, and she fancied she may have received a knowing glance from the last gentleman - had he been able to smell her? The thought sent her into paroxysms of excitement as she turned into Hazel Gardens. It was only as she closed the front garden gate that the fear began to return. Sure, she was going to have some wicked threesome sex later, but first she had to endure a lengthy and painful ordeal.

It was Jacqueline who answered the door. Or rather, it was Madam - as Sophie was reminded by the scornful frown with which the older lady looked her up and down superciliously.

“Come in and remove your shoes, girl.” Sophie obeyed in silence before following her mistress.

David nodded to Sophie as they entered the kitchen, but said nothing. Sophie felt like she was in a court of law...or about to mount the scaffold.

“You know why you are here, Sophie, and I'm not going to waste time haranguing you. But just to clarify, this is a voluntary punishment you are about to undergo, and everything we do together in this house will be both fully consensual and in the strictest of confidence. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Madam.”

“Good. Now, just to make sure your discipline remains consensual I am going to give you a safe word, and that safe word is Cleopatra. Should the pain become unbearable you only have to say that word for it to stop immediately. Repeat it back to me,” said Jacqueline.

“Cleopatra, Madam,” replied Sophie, somewhat unnerved by all this talk of safety.

“Very well. Let's hope you are able to withstand your full punishment, which we all know you have thoroughly earnt,” continued Mrs Clifford as she opened the kitchen drawer and took out the heavy three-tailed tawse.

“Please hold out both hands, one on top of the other, arms straight, hands at shoulder height. I expect you to remain in position and stay as quiet as possible. You are to receive six strokes, three on each hand in alternation, so after each stroke, you must swap your hands over. I suggest you close your eyes before each stroke.”

Sophie followed Jacqueline's instructions. Jacqueline reached over and pulled the sleeves of Sophie's blouse over her wrists for protection. It was clear that she was an expert, and this was both reassuring and frightening.

“If I am not satisfied with how you take your strapping, I may recommend penalty strokes. Understood?”

“Yes, Madam.” Sophie's voice had reduced to a whisper now, as she saw Jacqueline lift the instrument of torture over her right shoulder. She was too mesmerised to shut her eyes, and felt like a spectator as she watched Jacqueline's forearm make a sudden, muscular lunge, the strap whooshing through the air and cracking like gunfire against the delicate right hand, the three demonic tails rippling off in different directions.

“Aaah!” gasped Sophie as the burning pain tore through her palm and fingers, which quickly turned from fearful white to angry pink. She instinctively withdrew both hands and held them between her thighs to soothe the searing throbbing pain.

“Back in position!” barked Jacqueline.

“Sorry, Madam,” muttered Sophie as she returned to her position, remembering to swap her hands over.

“Swoosh, crack!” came the sound again as the leather ripped through her left hand.

Sophie was sobbing and panting as the sting built to an almost unbearable pitch, but still remembered to obediently swap hands. Her tears flowed freely as she anticipated the agony of another brutal blow on her already ringing right hand. She was not disappointed. The third crack felt like fire as the leather lacerated her palm.

 “Aargh!” cried Sophie as she brought her left hand up for its next dose of fire.

“Try to keep the noise down, Sophie. You've taken it like a good girl so far,” said Jacqueline in a kinder voice.

“Sorry, Madam, it's just so painful,” sobbed Sophie as she placed her left hand on top of her hot, burning right. “I know it's meant to hurt like this, and I know I deserve it, but…” Crack! The tawse had already completed its travel before Sophie realised Jacqueline had no intention of listening to her whining. The scorching pain literally took her breath away, so she was able to bear that stroke a little more quietly this time, panting as she got her breath back, and weeping profusely as she offered up her right hand for what she hoped would be its final branding....

What followed was the worst stroke yet, and perhaps the most painful experience of Sophie's young life. 

“Aaaargh...aaargh...yow!” Sophie howled as she nursed her branded right hand between her belly and left hand.

“Back in position!” barked Jacqueline, and fierce sparkle lighting up her countenance.

“I'm so sorry, I…” 

“No excuses, young lady. You've already had your only warning. Let's see how well you take the last of the six, but you're getting at least one extra.”

It had all been going so well, thought Sophie as she composed herself for the third assault on her left hand. Everything seemed to slow down as she watched the three thongs pass through her tender, throbbing left hand and felt the same agonising sting...but managed to take it in near silence, just a slight grunt followed by some sobbing.

“Good girl,” said Jacqueline, “I think just the one penalty stroke will suffice. You choose which hand.”

Sophie sniffled a little as she quietly said “left,” and remained in position. Schwack! came the final dose of fire to her swollen left palm. Sophie let out a long, desolate whine, expressive of relief as well as anguish.

“Good girl,” said Jacqueline in a kind voice as she placed the tawse on the worktop, stepped forward and embraced Sophie. “You took the first part of your punishment really well. You may run your hands under the cold tap if you wish. Then we'll go through to the living room, where Mr Clifford will take you through the next stage of your discipline.” Sophie wasted no time in accepting Jacqueline's invitation, feeling the sweet relief of cooling water on hot, throbbing palms.

“That's enough” said David, sternly, after ten seconds or so. “Time to get on with your thrashing - come through now.” They passed through the double doors to the living room, where David pointed to the leather sofa that had been the scene of Sophie's joy, embarrassment and terror two days earlier. Resting on it was that vicious-looking school cane, and a box of tissues.

“Remove your skirt, young madam. As we discussed, you are to receive twelve strokes of the rattan cane at full force on your unclothed posterior,” continued David. “I know from experience that it is extremely painful, and I don't expect you to take it in complete silence, but do expect you to show a degree of fortitude. Mrs Clifford will judge how well you submit to your discipline and decide whether or not additional strokes are needed.”

“Yes, Sir,” trembled Sophie, wondering what reaction her lack of underwear would elicit. She tentatively unhooked her waistband and slid the zip down. Her tight skirt snaked down her wiggling hips...

“No underwear?” exclaimed Mrs Clifford.

“I threw my panties away because they were so wet,” explained Sophie candidly, blushing beetroot red.

“Well, they'd be coming down anyway. Let's get on with your punishment,” said David. “Pick your skirt up, fold it neatly and place it on the coffee table. Then bend over the arm of the sofa, placing your full weight on the arm.” The pretty delinquent was soon in position, her tightly toned cheeks pushed out and slightly parted to reveal her puckered ring. 

“Now, brace yourself.”

Sophie's head was on its side, pressing against the leather, so she was able to see David pick up the cane and make a number of violent practice strokes, which cut thickly through the air, making her wince in anticipation.

He now rested the cold, oiled rattan on her bottom, making two or three preparatory taps - even they carried quite a sting. Then there was a seemingly long pause, followed by…

‘Thwack!’ Sophie's initial awareness was of a harsh, bruising blow to her buttocks, as the cane sank into her tender flesh, its energy rippling out in all directions. Then came the pain. Not just a sting, or a deeply aching bruise, but an agonising burning sensation as though she had been branded with hot steel. 'Aaargh! she gasped before panting heavily, the shock quickening her heart rate as the pain intensified and lingered.

David was well experienced in the psychological aspects of physical punishment, both from his school days and more recently as the submissive husband of a sadist. He knew how long it would take for the agony of each stroke to sink in, and how helpless Sophie would feel at the prospect of so many more vicious blows, given at a carefully moderated tempo.

After about 30 seconds, although it felt infinitely longer, the cane whistled down to a slightly higher landing site, eliciting a loud yelp of anguish as beads of sweat appeared on Sophie's forehead and her breath and heartbeat continued to race. Surely it wasn't meant to hurt this much? But in her heart she knew it was. Her session with Jacqueline's tawse had taught her that whatever her expectations of the pain from corporal punishment, the reality would be worse. 

Stroke number 3 fell a little lower on Sophie's bottom, close to the highly sensitive 'sit spot' so beloved of experienced practitioners.

“Haa...haa..aaargh” gasped Sophie as she convulsed in agony. Tears filled her eyes, dampening the black leather in roughly the same spot as her pleasure juices had flowed two days hence. But Sophie's appreciation of the irony was dulled by raw, adrenaline-fuelled panic. How was she to endure another nine strokes? The existence of a safe word only added to her torment, because it made her a willing participant in her own torture. Of course, 'Cleopatra' could stop it all at the mere mention of her name, but Sophie was grimly determined to bear her full punishment as she bit her lower lip and closed her eyes. The next three strokes seemed a little more bearable. She had heard that the cane could have a numbing effect after a few severe strokes in succession, and the next few strokes created more of a dull, throbbing pain, with less sting.

Of course, David knew all about the dulling of the pain after the first few strokes. That was one of the main reasons why 'six of the best' was traditionally the maximum inflicted in schools - the first three or four were usually the worst. But his experience on the receiving end had taught him a new trick: to allow the victim a break! Of course, this seemed an act of mercy, but in reality it would have been far easier to take the twelve in quick succession, the numbing effect progressively taking the edge off the later strokes as the inflammation increased.

“You may get up and rub if you wish,” he pronounced. “We'll take a five-minute break before the next set of six, to give you a chance to compose yourself'.

Sophie's thoughts were only of relief as she slowly and painfully pushed herself up off the sofa arm and stood up. 'Ouch!' she exclaimed as the tender, swollen flesh between buttocks and thighs was painfully compressed by the act of standing up. She eagerly rubbed her sore bottom, feeling the emerging ridges as the famous 'tramlines' appeared. Jacqueline handed her a tissue to dry her eyes. 

“Well done, you're taking it well,” she said, encouragingly.

Sophie walked around the room and jumped up and down, hoping to dull the pain. In truth, she was just helping the blood to circulate, reinvigorating her nerve-endings in readiness for more suffering.

“Ok, Sophie, back in position,” said David, the cold formality returning to his voice.

Sophie felt the cold, slightly damp leather press against her belly as she returned to her position.

Thwack! The seventh stroke came faster than she expected, and quite took her breath away. The pain seemed to burn more intensely than ever, the residual soreness from the first six strokes re-sensitising her glowing, welted buttocks. Her breathing, when it returned, quickened to a canine pant, punctuated by grunts of suffering.

The agony of the next two strokes seemed to bring Sophie to that mythical place where pain and pleasure converge. The harsh, burning sting was still there, but accompanied by a throbbing sensation from deeper in her most intimate regions. It was as though the cane was slicing through her lower buttocks, with just enough residual energy to caress her erogenous areas. 

“Ooooh, oooh!” came her cries, a little softer now. Jacqueline smiled. She knew exactly what was happening to Sophie, and was anticipating how these new sensations would find their expression in the bedroom later.

The tenth stroke was the hardest yet. Perhaps David had also sensed Sophie's nefarious enjoyment of the pain, and wanted to send her back across the threshold to her previous place of torment...or perhaps he wanted to edge her closer to the zenith of pleasure? Either way, Sophie kicked and writhed with new energy as David, with renewed vigour, delivered the final two strokes of her sentence.

Sophie lay panting and limp as David handed the cane to Jacqueline. A film of shiny, wet fluid was now flowing over the arm of the leather sofa between Sophie's slightly parted pale thighs. 

“Well, young lady,” began Jacqueline, “it seems your punishment was good for you in more ways than one! You can get up now.” Sophie gingerly lifted herself up, wincing and sobbing. Jacqueline handed her the box of tissues. “Here. Dry your eyes.....oh, and wipe yourself off the sofa! I think it's time to head upstairs.” 

As Sophie followed the couple into their sizable en suite double bedroom, she instinctively started to frame the sales pitch she had developed over seven or eight viewings of the house. It was a lovely room, overlooking the leafy secluded back garden. But as she entered the room the only thing she could think about was the thick beechwood clothes brush lying on the side of the bed. One glance at Jacqueline's stone-faced expression told her there was to be no reprieve from the last stage of her punishment.

“Come here, Sophie,” said Jacqueline as she sat on the bed and picked up the brush. She spoke in that same tone of controlled authority she had used so many times before, both with her husband and with employees and business associates. There was no point in resisting - or rather, Sophie had no desire to resist. She could have walked out at any point, yet the thrill of abject submission, the intoxicating mix of pain, erotic submission and arousal...that she could not resist! “Now remove the remainder of your clothing.”

“Yes, Madam,” muttered Sophie, removing her top and unhooking her bra. Without being asked, she gently lowered herself into position across the tightly clad lap of her torturess, resting her head sideways on the bedspread and lifting her right arm onto her back to allow Jacqueline to hold it. Jacqueline pinned Sophie's right wrist against the small of her back.

“I think two minutes of intensive spanking should suffice. But remember, you still have your safe word. David, are you ready to time us?” David nodded. “Very well.”

'Smack, crack, thwap!' The blows rained down on Sophie's already raw and bruised behind, alternating between left and right cheeks. Sophie was able to remain quiet for the first few seconds, as the still-swelling welts from her caning seemed to provide a little cushioning. But this could not last.

Gradually, and with merciless method, Jacqueline lowered each pair of smacks until they were landing cleanly on Sophie's upper thighs. The soft skin and clustered nerve endings provided fertile soil for Jacqueline's cruel intent. David recognised that evil half-grin as the blows became more energetic in response to Sophie's renewed moans.

“Oh, Oh, please have mercy, Madam,” came her desolate pleas.

“Not until you've been properly punished, young lady,” came the stern reply. “How long now, David?”

“Just over a minute to go, darling,” came the meek reply as Jacqueline’s sadism drove her lower down Sophie's thighs, each crack now yielding loud yelps and sobs. When David finally called the two minutes Jacqueline was enjoying herself a little too much to stop and delivered a further six snapping strokes.

“I think that brings an end to your discipline,” the elder lady finally declared, breathlessly, as she replaced the implement on the bedside table. “You can get up and soothe yourself.”

Sophie spent several minutes in the bathroom, drying her eyes and applying copious amounts of moisturiser to her sore, bruised cheeks and thighs. Her punishment had been every bit as painful as she had expected, but now that the sting had faded, giving way to a deep, throbbing warmth, she became increasingly aware of how aroused she had become, her pussy lips swollen in moist anticipation of pleasures to come. As she finished applying cream to her bum she gently touched herself from behind, sniffing her honeydew coated fingertips. Her breathing deepened and quickened, ready to re-ascend the heights she had reached with Carl the night before.

David and Jacqueline were already naked on the purple silky sheets as Sophie returned to the bedroom. Jacqueline wore a smile of genuine warmth, the last vestiges of her stern matronly persona having been cast off with her clothes. Sophie smiled back as she sat on the bedside and ran her fingertips over the older lady's proud nipples. 'Thank you for punishing me, Madam' she said, aware that she no longer needed to use the formal mode of address.

Sophie thought it strange that she favoured Jacqueline over the handsome man beside her. This was a previously unexplored side of her sexuality, and she wasted no time in probing the deep, sweat-scented cleavage valley with her mouth. She could hear Jacqueline's heart softly pounding as her tongue traced a moist path from breasts to navel before continuing towards her fragrant and neatly trimmed pussy.

This is what true submission feels like, thought Sophie as her tongue slipped around Jacqueline's erect pleasure-centre, eliciting moans and quickening breath. My entire being is devoted to giving exquisite pleasure to a woman who, perhaps five minutes ago, was tormenting me without mercy. And it feels just as natural as making love to Carl!

As she became engrossed in pleasing her mistress, Sophie climbed over Jacqueline's heaving body and knelt on David's side of the bed. Without any conscious thought, she arched her back, thrusting her now dripping sex towards David. She soon felt her reward as David's cock probed between her legs, teasing her pouting pussy lips. But what she felt next gave her the same sense of dread she had felt earlier when David flexed the cane. The tip of his penis was not probing her pussy...but her rear passage!

“No, please,” she moaned half-heartedly.  

“Have you never had it that way?” asked David kindly. “It's your choice, but I'm well lubed. Just relax, and it will feel wonderful, I promise.”

“Very well, Sir,” said Sophie, revelling in continued submission. As she waited for David to enter her, she went back to work in Jacqueline's hot, musk-scented pussy, luxuriating in the quivering crescendo of moans as Jacquie's excitement grew. Then she felt it. David's rock-hard tip probed Sophie's rim before gently pushing. Sophie knew instinctively where she needed to relax, and a moment later felt the glorious sensation of her G-spot being pounded from the ‘other’ side. 

David reached around and, with saliva-moistened fingers, began to work Sophie's clit in gentle circles, synchronised perfectly with the cadence of his deeply enervating thrusts.

“Ohhh, ohhh, ooooh, yes!” But Sophie could barely distinguish between her own and Jacquie's cries as the older lady reached her moment of abandon. Jacquie's wet, salty mound was now thrusting violently against Sophie's mouth as she exploded with atavistic cries of release, a river of pungent juices flowing over Sophie's tongue.

Sophie took a little longer to reach her peak. She was still sore from her punishment, and David's violent thrusting caused her some discomfort. Her breathing, freed from the confines of Jacquie's pussy, now grew deeper and faster. But she soon realised she needed David inside her pussy.

“I'm sorry Sir,” she said, lifting herself up on one arm, “but I need you inside me - the other way.”

“Very well,” said David, recovering his breath as he gently withdrew from her tight ring, “but I'll need to clean myself first. Oh, and you don't need to call us Sir and Madam any more!”

“Oh, but I feel so safe and secure thinking of you as my master and mistress. If you don’t mind I'll continue to address you that way,” Sophie replied as David entered the bathroom.

“You're such a sweet little thing!” gushed Jacqueline, sitting up and hugging Sophie. “You know you thoroughly deserved your punishment, and I loved hearing your cries of pain. But now I just want to hear you cry in pleasure!”

As David emerged from the bathroom, massaging his half-erect cock, Sophie slid down from the pillow and lifted her feet high either side of her head, her pink wet pussy presenting an inviting entrance. David, now rock solid, knelt on the bed and began probing Sophie's lips with his purple bulb. 

Sophie purred in pulsating bliss as David skimmed over her clit, before his resistance finally gave way. With a deep grunt, he pushed through the warm, silken love curtains and began thrusting hard into her luxuriant depths.

“Take your time, David,” commanded Jacqueline, returning to her matronly persona now that she was addressing her husband, “I think our guest should be allowed her moment of pleasure before yours, don't you?” There was a note of menace in her voice, hinting at the consequences David could expect if he failed to control his urge.

“Sorry, darling,” muttered David as his thrusts slowed and lengthened a little.

Sophie's breathing was shallow and quick, her face flushed, as Jacqueline began gently massaging her clit, in time with David's thrusts. The older lady could feel her husband’s hardness sliding past her fingertips into Sophie’s squelching depths, accompanied by the rhythmic slapping of balls against sore buttocks.

“Oh my God, oh my....ah, ah, yeeaaas!” Sophie’s cries turned to squeals of delight as she felt her juices squirt, drenching the sheets. This was too much for David, who soon reached a grunting climax that left him a senseless heap on top of Sophie, Jacqueline's hand trapped between the two of them. 

It was a while before Sophie began to regain her senses. Now that her erotic joys had passed, and as her brain reabsorbed those glorious hormones, she became acutely aware of her situation: lying in bed with two clients, drenched in sweat and bodily fluids, with a bottom covered in painful welts and a pussy oozing a sixty-year-old's semen - yet she didn’t regret any of it!

David seemed to be asleep beside her, but Jacqueline, to her right, was awake and looking toward her lovingly. Was this really the formidable lawyer who had made her feel so small just an hour ago?

“That was wonderful,” she whispered. “I do hope we can do it again!”

Sophie smiled. She didn’t need to answer.

As Sophie left the house at quarter to seven, her phone rang. “Hi Alex, you're working late!”

“It's good news,” came Alex's cheerful estate agent voice, “the Kahns have offered £740K on Hazel Gardens. If this gets accepted, you’ll go to the top of the league table, with a nice wedge of commission, well done!”

“I'll phone them with the good news,” said Sophie, smiling mischievously as she turned and walked back up the garden path. 

Something told her she’d have little difficulty persuading them to accept the offer - and that she might be invited to a rather pleasant celebration!

It had been a good day.