It Is Getting Clearer

I smiled up at him. "Yes Jon I did, it was er, amazing I suppose."

"Are you in much pain?" he enquired, his hand slipping down my face until his fingernails could trail across my chest above my breasts.

"It does smart and sting, but it's bearable?" I replied moving my bottom from one cheek to the other as I saw his cock, that was just inches from my face twitch a couple of times, presumably in preparation for starting to become erect. Then I realised how old he was and through that was probably impossible, well at least hugely unlikely

"That'll soon go away. I'll get rid that for you my darling, just wait a minute."

He left me, and walked through the door beside the bed. It was obviously a bath room for I heard the water running. He came back.

"Your bath will soon be ready, but first I need to put some lotion on your bottom Chrissy, so could you lie on your front on the bed please?"

Lying full length on the silk or satin sheets was very pleasant. I love the feel of silk on my body. It's so lustrous, cool, smooth and, somehow, almost decadent. And those feelings began to push the pain of my bottom to one side a little. It was still there, of course, but now other sensations were combining with that.

I turned my head to one side to look at Jon as he gently slid the remains of the panties down my legs and then, one by one unbuckled my strappy shoes and removed them. I was amazed for he was half erect, his penis in that rather awkward and faintly ridiculous looking position of sticking nearly straight out from his body and horizontal to the ground. It did look good, though, and the thought that I could so quickly excite him also excited me. He saw me looking.

"Pleased at what you have done young lady."

"Very," I smiled back.

"It happens sometimes."

"It didn't the other night."

"But then I did not spank you the other night did I?" He said his eyes sparkling,

Carefully he rolled the stockings down my legs and off my feet, so that I was now completely naked, the coolness of the silk caressing every inch of my body. It felt good as did his hands on my ankles easing my legs apart.

He'd earlier placed the two bottles from the table at the other end of the room, on the floor beside the bed. He sat beside me his bottom touching my knee. He poured a lotion from one bottle onto the cheeks of my bottom. It stung at first but only momentarily, and was then replaced by a wonderful coolness, similar but more intense to what the front of my body was receiving from the silk sheets.

"Nice?" he grunted thickly.

"Mmmmmm," I sighed in reply, loving the feelings of his soft, actor's fingertips spreading the thick lotion all over each of my cheeks and upper thighs.

I closed my eyes and gave into yet another amazing combination of sensations; yet another new experience; yet another instalment of this incredible initiation into a different sort of sexual practice. Yes, yet another stage of the ceremony, and yet another example of the ritual that was called corporal punishment, but in my mind, was simply having your bum spanked.

Smoothing the cool liquid into me, his fingers on both hands visited every part of me between my waist and upper thighs. They visited, touched, stroked and eased the liquid into each cheek, between them, along the crease of my bottom, over my anal hole, around the, now, throbbing, lips of my pussy and down and around my thighs.

It was lovely, and slowly the sensations provided by Jon's fingers and the lotion became more powerful than the lingering tingling, smarting, stinging pain from the spanking. It did not remove those feelings, but linked with them to provide even more new sensations and experiences for me. I started to 'sort of cum' is the only way I can describe the emotions. A sort of cum; a type of orgasm, a nearly climax. That's all I can really say about the feelings that were shuddering around my body as my lover so gently caressed me. They were the only descriptive passages I have for the sensations that were oozing from my bottom, all over my body as the man that had spanked it now soothed it. As he replaced the pain he'd given me earlier with the gentleness of his current cure. Yes as Jon introduced me to yet another element of the spanking process.

"Now my darling, I bathe you," he said helping me up.

The bathroom was large and surprisingly airy considering the lack of windows. Everything was white, chrome or glass. From the tiles, which were wonderfully warm from the under-floor heating, to the kidney shaped, sunken bath in the corner that looked as if it could easily accommodate six people. From the paintwork and the gleaming bathroom appliances, to the fittings and the large, corner wardrobe unit with floor to ceiling mirrored doors.

Although the bath was half full with a bluish coloured water that clearly contained oils and spices, he didn't lead me there. Instead, his hand coaxed me into the corner of the room by the wardrobes. The corner covered by mirrors, the corner where I'd be able to view myself from all angles. Yes, the corner where I'd be able to see my back, where I'd be able to see my bum where, I realised with a shudder as we covered the few feet, I'd see the trophy marks of my spanking.

I could hardly believe what I saw. And more so, I could hardly believe what I felt emotionally.

It hadn't been long since I had returned from Crete where I'd got a lovely tan. I had been able to sunbathe topless there, so my only 'white bits" were a small patch of skin just above my pubes that were quite heavily trimmed at the time and the rather larger patches on each cheek. Well they had been white. But now, from the height of the curve of each buttock down to beneath where my bum became my thighs, there was a sea of pink and redness. Some patches were deeper coloured and looked fiercer than others, and across my left cheek there was the outline of a palm and fingers. From a pain point of view it actually looked far worse than it felt.

"See, my darling," Jon murmured putting one arm around my shoulders and running the backs of his fingernails on his other hand across the redness. "They are our memories."

"Jesus Jon, I never thought they'd be so obvious."

"Well you're not planning to flash your bum at anyone for a while are you?" he laughed back his hand stroking me his erection now as good as full.

I let my hand fall to my side my fingers encircling his erection. "Oh you never know," I joked feeling quite excited at the extraordinary sight in the mirror.

"Ah Chrissy you see, that's the reward for the spanking master, his pupil can go with no one else without them knowing."

"Hmmmm, yes I see."

"Just wait a minute Chrissy." He said leaving me and walking into the bedroom.

"What are you going to do?"

"You'll see."

When he returned he was carrying a small camera.

I knew immediately what he was going to do. "No Jon you can't."

"But I insist, you look wonderful, don't woory there will be no face. As gorgeus as that is, it's now what I want to record now."

He took several shots from a number of angles. I enjoyed and posed for him by sticking my bum and twirling my body.

He helped me into the low bath, the warm, sweet-smelling water seeming to ease the stinging of my bottom almost immediately. It was painful and uncomfortable to sit down at first, but I got used to it quickly. I laid back, just my hardened nipples, my pubes and my toes above the water, my back against the enamel of the bath that, amazingly, was warm. I realised that he must have some form of heated bath that allowed one to lean back without that chilly feeling.

He took a large, soft sponge and covered that with some sweet smelling liquid soap. He worked that all over my body, naturally I suppose and very welcomingly I know, concentrating on and between my breasts, the thatch on my mound and the top of my thighs that he'd gently and so easily coaxed open. At the same time, he was leaning over the bath kissing and licking my face and neck and gently sucking my lips into his mouth.

The sexual feelings from the sponge, the tender and caring sensations from his lips and tongue and the stinging and smarting that were the reminders of my spanking all combined into a delicious cocktail of feelings that, of course made me cum. It wasn't just those actions I realised, however, as the main force of the orgasm subsided, for then I found that he had shoved most of the large, soft sponge right up my cunt.

"Now my darling," Jon whispered as he removed the sponge from inside me, washed away my juices and gently kissed me, "it's time for me to bathe your bottom. Would you like that?"

"Yes, Jon, yes I would," I sighed, our faces just inches apart.

"You want me to bathe your bottom, don't you?"

"Yes, yes please," I whispered, as once more I fell in line with the ritualistic requirements of the spanking ceremony.

It is as near impossible as makes no difference to lie on one's front in a bath without risking drowning. That's why, within just a few seconds, I was kneeling on all fours. My hair, wet from earlier, was hanging down over my face, my breasts were falling free straight down from my chest, my arms were supporting me, my legs were slightly open and I was in the classic doggy position. The position that seems to be the favourite sexual position of so many men. The one where I have so often being fucked gaining such pleasure and sensations from the depth of the penetration that the doggy enables and is, therefore, the favourite of many women as well!

Now, though, I was not about to be fucked. No, this time I was about to watch in the mirrors on three sides of the bath, as my spanking master and lover washed away the trophy marks that were the outcome of our earlier spanking.

Both cheeks were now less red. Pink, I thought, not the earlier crimson. The marks, though pronounced on each cheek and both thighs, were not as fierce as earlier. Too pronounced, though, I recognised, for anyone in such a position to be able to comfortably take another lover without providing some, probably, hugely embarrassing explanations.

"The master's way, of controlling his naughty pupil," I smiled.

*

It was three week's later when I received his text.

'Friday afternoon, around two, the basement.'

It made my heart start pounding.

The preparation was very similar, as was the clothing, although, the outer garments were slightly more schoolgirlish. The getting dressed at Jon's house alone, the clothes hanging up waiting, the mirror there for me to look at myself, the walk to the basement and the layout and furniture of that room were all the same as the last time, my first time, my initiation into the world of spanking. He was there, but, again, he spoke only to ask me to stand by the chair. I did as he directed. Just three weeks after my initiation, we prepared for our second spanking session.

It was then that I saw the difference, the surprise he'd referred to over the phone when I had called to tell him that I would be at his house as he wanted.

"Your bottom's beautifully healed up now," he had said running his fingertips across it as I laid naked, apart from a pair of black, seamed, fishnet hold-ups, on my bed after we'd made love one afternoon.

"We'll have to make a date in the basement again soon Chrissy, won't we?" he had gone on his finger pressing right on my anal opening.

"Yes I grunted," the feelings from his finger getting to me.

"I think your bum's ready darling don't you?" he'd asked applying a little more pressure, but more as an enquiry than a demand.

"Yes. Yes I think it is," I said not moving as he pressed just a little harder.

"So darling," he said, very thickly I thought as his fingertip slipped just inside that puckered ring of darkish skin, "your body is ready, is your mind?"

His finger was just inside my anus sending such beautiful feelings through me. I knew, though, that he would go no further without some sign from me, for he was very aware that I didn't have a completely, open acceptance of anal sex. Not on moral grounds, purely the physical and pain issues I share with many women who've given birth.

His words were, I thought, a little odd, but as my mind digested them they made sense. Spanking required both a mental and physical acceptance and compliance if the whole ceremony was to work effectively. We'd talked about that aspect, along with the many other aspects a couple of times since the last time, but that was only during and after sex. As with most people, I imagine, we found talking about sexual matters in non-sexual situations rather difficult.

"I think I'm ready Jon, both physically and mentally," I whispered, as I wiggled my bottom and pressed it back against his finger.

"Oh yes darling, yes, yes, yes he moaned," as he began finger-fucking my arse.

Those memories went through my mind as I stood in that basement, my hands clasped in front of me. I recalled them as I stood there in the short, blue, pleated skirt, tight, white, buttoned up blouse and striped tie. I felt my body respond to me thinking of him having sex with my anus as I saw the difference, the surprise, the reward, as he'd termed it.

Lying across the seat of the chair was the cane. The, probably, one metre long cane that was like a miniature shepherd's crook. I shivered. I shuddered a little and I gulped at the thought of that caning my bare bottom.