Correcting Annette

"Yes, I can help," I said slowly. "But when you were drawing the man just now, you had a live model: me. It isn't fair to ask me to draw Anna-Marie without a model, now is it?"

I held my breath. Had I gone too far?

Her eyes flashed as a flush rose to her cheeks. "Of course. I agree completely. And you have the perfect chair we can use."

I followed her eyes to the low-backed brown leather armchair on the other side of my studio. Suddenly I realized that I had been so intent on the male and female figures in Annette's drawing that I had missed the fact that she had modeled the chair on the one here in my studio. It was obvious, now, that she had observed it on her previous visits with the intention of using it in her picture.

I followed her to the chair, and she turned to face me. Her eyes were slightly lidded, her moist lips parted. The glow on her cheeks had spread down to the top of her crisp white blouse. She pulled her shoulders back, and I could see the bumps of her aroused nipples pressing against the pale material. Again, I sensed her musky scent.

"Are you ready?" she enquired.

"Annette, I..."

"Not Annette," she replied with the hint of an accent. "Anna-Marie."

She slowly approached the back of the leather armchair and stood behind it for a second as she took a deep breath. Gently she bent forward at the waist, lowering her head toward the seat cushion. Her thick copper hair tumbled across her face.

Again she paused, then reaching back with both hands, she gripped the hem of her pleated skirt and slowly began to raise it, revealing her gorgeous legs inch by inch.

Finally, the skirt was gathered in a bunch at her waist. Languidly, she lowered her hands and gripped the leather chair arms.

I gazed at her, my excitement causing me to tremble slightly all over. My eyes drank in the beautiful sight before me. I had been wrong about the pantyhose. Annette (or Anna-Marie) was wearing sheer seamless flesh-colored stockings, pulled tightly up her thighs by the straps of a white garter belt. And she was wearing no panties.

At that moment the sun came out from behind a cloud, and a shaft of light shone through my studio window and fell precisely across her perfect bottom. The room was silent, except for the ticking of the clock in the hallway, and my ragged breathing. Just then, she hollowed her back and parted her legs a little more, her knees locked back. This thrust her perfect rounded buttocks up and back, and exposed the pink, hairless lips of her vagina, peeping coyly from between her thighs. The high heels of her blue leather pumps emphasized the superb muscles of her calves and thighs.

Anna-Marie (for that is how I thought of her now) turned her head back toward me, her gleaming hair falling across her half-closed eyes. Her movement broke my inertia, and I picked up her drawing. Glancing from her to the picture, I erased a few lines and redrew them, correcting Annette's minor errors. There really wasn't much to correct, as Annette's drawing was one of the most startlingly sensuous I had ever seen. The sheen on the stockings, the glow of the exposed bottom-flesh, the almost-palpable feeling of sexual tension. With a sigh, I put down the drawing and my pencil.

"I think that does it," I murmured.

"Not quite," she said in a husky, accented voice I could hardly recognize. "It isn't over until Anna-Marie feels the cane kiss her flesh."

I stood up, my eyes darting from her flushed face to her perfect naked bottom.

"Please! Anna-Marie needs it!" she pleaded with me. "Cane me. If anyone can do it right, I know you can!"

Realizing that this was what she had really meant when she talked about `role playing' at our first meeting, I picked up the cane and adopted the pose of the man in her picture. I flexed the cane between my hands. Anna-Marie groaned in anticipation.

I lifted the cane back to shoulder-height with my right hand and paused. My eyes roamed over the beautiful nude bottom and thighs before me, wanting this moment to last forever.

I brought the cane down across her bottom. It made a slight WHHHIP noise as it struck her. After a second or two, Anna-Marie turned her head slowly and looked at me through her tousled hair.

"Do it properly!" she said in her husky voice. "Cane me as if you mean it! Harder!" She lowered her head again and readied herself for the second stroke.

I raised the cane higher this time and fixed my eyes on my target; the roundest, plumpest part of the upturned buns. Now, with greater force, I swung the cane downwards. It swished through the air and landed with a satisfying CRACK! exactly on target.

Anna-Marie breathed out through her teeth with a hiss. "Yesss! That's better. I want to feel every stroke slicing into my bottom! I want the ice and the fire! Again! Harder!"

A bright red welt was forming across the perfect buttocks from the last stroke. I took aim again, planning the next stroke to fall about an inch lower.

I drew the cane back higher over my shoulder. I held my breath for a moment, then whisked the cane down CRACK! onto Anna-Marie's rear end. She grunted softly. The second red welt was forming, exactly parallel to and one inch below the first.

I laid the next stroke at a slight angle across the two glowing stripes, and reveled in Anna-Marie's reaction as her body jumped slightly in ecstatic pain.

Swish... CRACK!

Swish... CRACK!

Swish... CRACK!

I continued to whip her full, plump buttocks, sometimes slicing a particularly powerful stroke directly onto an existing puffed, red welt, watching her whole body twitch as she gasped out loud.

Swish... CRACK!

Swish... CRACK!

Swish... CRACK!

I lost count of the strokes. Twenty? Thirty? The magnificent alabaster globes were criss-crossed with angry red stripes.

Deciding on a change of tactics, I fixed my eyes on the stretched, taut stocking tops.

Her thighs. I would land the next few strokes across her perfect firm thighs.

The cane rose and fell, CRACK! exactly one inch above her stocking tops. It caught Anna-Marie by surprise. She groaned loudly and the muscles in her superb calves and thighs tensed suddenly, then relaxed slowly. I was amazed at how much punishment Anna-Marie could take.

I waited until the fiery welt bloomed across the back of her thighs. Yes. Perfectly placed, one inch above the top of each stocking. I congratulated myself on my marksmanship. I decided to cane my way up her thighs, one stroke at a time, until once again I reach her full pliant tush.

Once more, my eyes swept slowly up her legs from the shiny pumps placed firmly about twelve inches apart, up over her slim ankles, the contours of her calves, the backs of her knees, her firm thighs with her pussy nestled in the apex, and finally to her magnificent bottom.

Meekly, unquestioning, she waited for me to continue.

I raised the cane, then brought it down -- SWISH! CRACK! -- almost exactly one inch above the previous stroke. Anna-Marie's body jerked in a rictus of painful pleasure, and a long gasping sigh escaped her lips.

Set on my task, I immediately drew the cane back and swung it down CRACK! one inch higher. Now she had three welts, like rungs in a ladder, climbing each thigh, inexorably, toward her rounded bottom cheeks.

Swish... CRACK!

Higher...

Swish... CRACK!

Higher...

I realized that the next stroke would fall across the crease where thigh became buttock. It would also land across the prominent pouting outer lips of her backthrust pussy. I realized that I must be careful. Too violent a stroke might injure her cunt; too light a stroke would deprive Anna- Marie of the exhilaration she craved.

She knew as well as I where the next stroke was destined to land. Her body tensed in anticipation, yet she remained docile, trusting me to bring her closer to fulfillment.

I looked at the red stripes on her thighs and their predecessors on her bottom, then focused on the gap of virgin flesh between. I drew back the cane, concentrating on the target.

SWISH! CRACK!

"Aaaargh!" Anna-Marie cried out. For a moment I was alarmed, thinking I had used too great a force, then I realized she was trembling on the edge of sexual ecstasy.

She turned her head toward me. Dark curls of hair were plastered to her damp brow. She was breathing heavily.

"Please! Don't stop now!" she panted.

She lowered her head and gripped the arms of the leather chair, hollowing her back and thrusting her ample behind back toward me.

I needed no more encouragement. My cane cut through the still air and landed a little further up the underswell of her buns.

"Agh! Yes!" she shuddered.

Again my cane rose and fell, slicing across her bottomflesh.

"Mmmmaaagh!" she cried.

A compulsion seized me and I stepped closer to her. Trapping the cane under my left arm, I reached out both my palms and fondled her rear end, roaming over her thighs and buttocks, feeling the heat in my fingertips as I traced the glowing raised welts. Suddenly, I realized I was doing as Annette had done, when she ran her fingers with sensual pleasure over the exposed flesh of the submissive women in her pictures. I squeezed her bottom cheeks with both hands, exalting in the feel of the pliant flesh pressing back against my fingers.

I brushed a forefinger across the soft quivering lips of her pussy. It was hot and moist. I raised the glistening finger to my face and inhaled. Here was the source of the intoxicating aroma I had sensed whenever she was close! But she exuded a scent like no other woman I had known; a scent that took hold of my senses, entering my soul until I was almost giddy with desire.

Anna-Marie was quivering under my hand. "Please, please," she was murmuring. "Please! I'm almost there..."

I shook myself free of my reverie and stepped back, lifting the cane once more. I sensed that now she wanted to feel it hard and fast. With a series of staccato cracks, the cane rose and fell across her bottom and thighs, bringing her closer to release. After each stroke, her body jerked and she cried out or choked back a sob.

Until suddenly she wailed and threw back her head, swinging it from side to side, her tangle of copper hair swishing the air as she gripped the arms of the leather chair as if holding on for her very life. She clenched her thighs tightly together and began thrusting her pelvis back and forth, grunting and moaning. The sunlight from my studio window glistened on the sheen of moisture that spread across the tops of her thighs and the droplets of sweat that coated her lower back and the upper curves of her bottom.

My own excitement was almost unbearable as I watched this beautiful woman in the throes of the shuddering orgasms I had induced with the thin rod of bamboo I held in my trembling hand.

Again she looked back at me, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Please! Fuck me now while I'm still coming! Please give it to me! You must!"

My eyes glued to her gorgeous rump, I stripped off my shirt, pants and underwear. My erect cock leapt free and snapped stiffly up against my belly, the engorged heavy balls swinging below. Anna-Marie gave an animal grunt, and, parting her magnificent thighs, buried her head in the seat of the chair as she thrust her moist gaping cunt back toward me.

Gripping her slippery hip with my left hand, I fed the bulging head of my penis into her with the fingers of my right hand. Anna-Marie shuddered and pressed back against me. I sank into her tight, hot sheath up to my balls.

I pulled back and began thrusting, my hands and my eyes roaming over the glowing red stripes of her violated buttocks and thighs, feeling the raised welts, squeezing the flesh, inhaling her unique sensual aroma.

My climax was building, rumbling in, impossible to stop. Anna-Marie sensed the impending explosion, and gripped me hard with her pussy muscles, milking me expertly as I slammed into her, slapping my body against her glowing thighs and bottom. With a guttural cry, she clamped down hard on me, as her body was racked with a storm of multiple orgasms. Gripping her hips I began my final strokes, oblivious to everything but sexual release.

As my climax thundered up from my balls, I pulled my glistening cock out of her and grasped it in my right hand. My body was racked with the most powerful orgasm of my life. Jet after jet of boiling come flew up and landed in thick white stripes across the red ones left on her bottom by my cane. I was still coming and I pointed my pulsing cockhead at the back of her thighs watching the spunk splatter across her flesh, trickling down toward her stocking tops as it mingled with her own aromatic juices.

Finally, both our orgasms subsided, and I massaged my semen into her radiant flesh, covering her welts with the soothing salty cream.

She slowly straightened up and stepped away from the leather armchair. She looked at me, brushing a damp lock of hair from her eyes. I realized that Anna-Marie had gone and Annette was back. With an amused smile playing across her flushed face, she said, "I'd better freshen up. The bathroom?"

I pointed toward the back of the house, and watched as she demurely lowered her pleated skirt and left the room. In her absence, I dressed quickly, wondering what she would say upon her return. In a few minutes she was back, immaculately dressed and totally composed, which was more than I could say for myself. I let her make the first move.

"Thank you, James," she said. "That was really helpful. You have no idea what these lessons are doing for me." She beamed at me as she laid a check face down on my drawing table. I began to protest, but she cut me off. "Same time next week, then, James? I have some more drawings that I just can't seem to get right."

She picked up her purse and portfolio, then turned and headed for the front door. With her hand on the door knob, she paused.

"You know, James," she said pensively, "I have a couple of friends who I think could benefit from your tutelage." She smiled at me. "We'll have to see, won't we?"

And she was gone, closing the door softly behind her.

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If you would like to hear more of my adventures with Annette, and find out what happened with her friends, let me know. Meanwhile, your feedback and your votes are deeply appreciated.