It Doesn't Have to be Spontaneous Ch. 02

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

He helped me into the low bath, the warm, sweet-smelling water seeming to ease the stinging of my bottom almost immediately. 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 enamel 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'd shoved most of the large, soft sponge right up my cunt.

"Now my darling," Adrian 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, Adrian, 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's 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 from behind gaining such pleasure and sensations from the depth of the penetration that the "doggy" enables.

This time though I wasn't about to be fucked. No, this time I was about to watch in the mirrors on three sides of the bath, as my corporal punishment 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," I thought, "of controlling his naughty pupil."

The preparation was very similar, as was the clothing, although, the outer garments were slightly more schoolgirlish. The getting dressed at Adrian'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 replicable of 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 asked as, 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 he was in Rome earlier this week.

"Your bot's beautifully healed up now," he'd said running his fingertips across it as I'd 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 Mands., won't we?" he'd 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 Adrian, 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 over the phone from Rome.

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.