Keeping the Customers Satisfied

"I know you're all peeking, you boys love this don't you?" Caz runs her hands slowly up a silky, black stocking-clad leg from ankle to thigh, sharing a conspiratorial look with her rapt online audience while re-fastening a suspender clip. Turning her back on the camera she bends over, allowing eager viewers the delightful vision of a curvaceous bottom. Seductively slides down semi-translucent panties, lifting each high-heeled foot in turn to remove them completely.

"Gosh, I'm such a bad girl, you can see all of my bare bum, even glimpse my pink pussy lips peeking between my thighs. Damp and glistening, because I'm thinking of you and how good it'd feel to have your big cock pushing deep inside me doggy style." Caz stays in situ, allowing her punters a long pause to 'relieve their tension'. Big cock, fat chance she reflects wryly.

Don't rush to fill the silence; goodness knows (although to paraphrase Mae West, goodness has nothing to do with it) padding these videos out to a reasonable running time isn't easy. Careful pacing is key, the slow-build succession of familiar erotic tropes, a repetitive choreography of revelation and removal. Because however much they claim to want fresh content, Caz knows her subscribers prefer this tried and tested formula. Blessed with an enviable cleavage and, if she says so herself, excellent legs, Caz ensures her online clients remain entertained and wanting more.

For her next trick, she teases a nipple from her low-cut bra, gently squeezing it while running her tongue over sultry red lips.

"Bet you'd love to suck on this, boys? Look how it's standing up ready for you," she purrs. Dangles a shoe from painted toes for the foot fans, twangs a suspender strap (Americans term them 'garters', Americans are wrong) and traces a stocking seam to thrill the nylon obsessives. Keeping her one-handed audience panting and wanking.

Once again facing the camera, Caz sits on a chair, thighs spread wide and languidly dips a finger into her disgracefully damp pussy. In truth, acting out these scenarios turns her on. Whether it should do so is an entirely different question, this is hardly the moment to debate morality. Half closing her eyes and pouting, she adroitly strokes her throbbing clit.

"Oh yes," moans Caz, reaching for her favourite vibrator, thrusting her pussy forward to further delight her heavy-breathing aficionados watching glassy-eyed as the ersatz phallus pistons in and out. The orgasm that follows is completely authentic; just as well, her paying public is all too used to being conned and soon spots a fake. Honesty translates into subscription renewals.

How strange, reflects Caz, physically stimulated yet mentally disengaged, this is an almost out-of-body sexual experience. Right this moment she'd give anything to be properly fucked by her husband Ryan, who so far remains ignorant of these escapades.

A few months previously, Caz shamelessly copied this nifty money-making idea from a feature in an impeccably woke English newspaper. Apparently, some impecunious students and precariously employed professionals supplement their uncertain incomes by setting up online web portals catering to popular male fetishes. In contrast to most sex work, the women decide when and what to perform and keep the money; an innovative variation on working from home.

How hard could it be, Caz wondered? As a self-employed web designer, she already possessed the necessary basic skills. Intrigued she undertook some discreet research, carefully deleting her search history afterwards.

Blimey, what a revelation! Whole worlds of male obsession. For a beginner stocking worship sites looked a good prospect, nothing too explicit, most simply offering variations on flashing and talking dirty, filmed POV (point of view, there was a lot of jargon to learn). An initial investment in new lingerie proved pricier than anticipated; nylons, (FF, fully-fashioned, another bloody acronym) are a hands-down favourite of putative patrons, but expensive or what?

To contain costs, Caz sought out suitably revealing clothes and sky-high heels in charity stores. The blonde curly wig was a chance find (bought with her standard excuse of "attending a fancy-dress party") and neatly concealed Caz's lustrous dark hair. A disguise further enhanced by make-up so liberally applied that even her closest friends - Caz fervently hopes - couldn't pick her out in an ID parade. Thick blusher, false lashes and lashings of mascara complete the exhibitionist, nympho girl-next-door look.

Initially just offering 'tempt 'n tease' upskirt views of knickers and stocking tops, encouraged by her punter's enthusiastic (and often graphic) feedback Caz's repertoire rapidly expanded to fingering and toying her pussy. Lately, she's been musing about adding a butt plug to her act...

Building a web subscriber base for 'Naughty Nylons' (Caz's domain name) began with Instagram and Twitter posts to spark potential customers' curiosity. Short taster clips sent to free porn sites widened her appeal. Gratifying although the almost immediate response was, the pace of curating and creating new material soon became relentless. Fortunately, money flowed in, and a mortgage deposit was achieved within a few months, a contrast to years of dogged saving. The problem now is that Caz doesn't know how long she'll be able to pass this massively enhanced income off as the fruits of her usual design work - she's never previously been this well paid! At some point, she'll have to tell her husband the true source of the cash. Which ultimately happens unexpectedly when disaster strikes, Ryan discovers her costume stash and Caz has no choice but to confess her clandestine enterprise.

"WTF is this?" asks Ryan striding into the room one evening with her dressing-up box. Caz is shocked, sure she'd hidden it carefully. "How did you find that?" Not in retrospect the smartest reply. Ryan glares in response to this faux pas. "It's not what you think," Caz continues, a note of desperation in her voice.

"And what might I think is going on?"

"I, er..."

"You've joined an amateur dramatic society and been cast as a tart with a heart? Taken up street walking? Or having an affair? I mean it's not like I've noticed any new lingerie, or that we've done much fucking lately..." Only too true, Caz has been too exhausted simulating sex to have any.

"None of the above," says Caz quickly, struggling to regain control of the conversation. "Sit down and have a drink - make it a strong one. Pour me one too. You may have trouble believing what I'm about to say, but I swear it's true - and I've got proof."

The whole story pours out, Caz's laptop displaying clips of performances sufficient to render Ryan dumbfounded. His wanton wife then knocks him further off kilter by displaying the balance of a bank account she's created in their joint names.

"See, I haven't been two-timing, that's all for our new home; you and me together."

"Bloody hell, I thought I knew you."

"I thought I knew me too."

"Ignoring for a moment the sharing of your private parts with a global audience and how that might just possibly be perceived as a form of infidelity, how did you find the time?"

"That's the problem, this thing has its own momentum, I can scarcely keep up; the stress has made me behave like a grumpy cow and I'm truly sorry. I need another camera but don't have the technical know-how to use two at once. The audience wants new thrills and I'm not sure how far to go. Ryan, please help."

Thankfully her man rises to the occasion and takes control.

"OK, how about this? I pitch in and we make it a proper partnership. Set a time limit on how long to continue; ramp up the raunchy content, maximise income, quit while we're still ahead."

"Sounds like a plan," says Caz, with heartfelt relief.

This decides Ryan privately, is an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. Reading through comments from her avid online fans he's discovered many would dearly love to see Caz receive a spanking. Which is opportune, Ryan has long wanted to introduce this very kink into their erotic activities. Subtle hints have thus far gone unheeded; it's clearly time to take advantage of the situation and insist. He matter-of-factly announces this unilateral decision to his wife who, albeit with considerable trepidation but no other way out of her current predicament, reluctantly agrees.

After dressing for action, the following Sunday, she discovers their lounge transformed into a makeshift film studio; Caz wanted a second camera, and there are now three. Ryan, careful to keep his face out of the shot, directs the scenario and immediately starts shooting using a tiny wireless control.

"Hi guys, welcome back to 'Naughty Nylons'. I'm the lucky chap married to your favourite stockings star. Since she's been extremely badly behaved over the last few months, exposing herself to you all online. Consequently, I've decided to take Madam to task with a sound spanking, perhaps you'd like to share in the moment." If ever a question was rhetorical...

Ignoring Caz's token protests, he nods meaningfully at the recording light while her loyal following collectively holds its breath. Can this be happening? Caz is preoccupied with much the same thought; the answer to both is, yes.

Tentatively lifting her skirt to reveal de rigueur seamed stockings, she is reluctantly manoeuvred face down across her husband's lap. Ryan takes his time tugging down Caz's skimpy panties and arranging his errant spouse for chastisement, all the while switching from camera to camera to provide punters with a panoramic view of bounteous buttocks, nylon and lace. In common with the online observers Ryan feels himself hardening in anticipation; what they can only surmise is the sexual conclusion he has in mind to follow Caz's chastisement. Unfortunately, that'll have to wait until their customers have been served...

Looking directly at the lens and maintaining what she hopes is a suitable expression of outrage and distress, Caz gyrates across Ryan's lap while he smacks her bottom for the very first time; his large hand methodically covering every inch of those glorious cheeks. Pinned across his knees, delicious derriere prominently exposed, Caz yelps as ringing slaps make contact. There's no need to play-act, it smarts, and Caz's pale skin is soon marked red with the imprint of his palm. Oh dear, that last slap really stung, yet overall, this isn't as bad as she feared. In fact, the hotter her hindquarters get, the wetter and more aroused Caz becomes.

"Let that be a lesson to you, girl," says Ryan theatrically, landing a final flurry of spanks on her pink buttocks. "Enough for the moment, I'm sure your fans will send plenty of ideas for future punishments. We're relying on you guys to let us know what you'd like to see."

"TTFN," adds Caz, blowing a kiss to the nearest lens as Ryan uses the remote to stop recording.

"I'm looking forward to seeing the playback of that starter session," he observes, "Shouldn't need much editing, you did pretty well for a novice."

"What do mean starter?" A note of disquiet is audible in Caz's voice. "And you can let me stand up now."

"Not so fast," growls Ryan, holding her firmly in position. "That bum warming was purely for public consumption, a proper punishment for keeping your money-making enterprise from me begins right this moment."

"But my bottom is already sore, I can't take any more!" Caz's anguish isn't feigned.

"Can and will - besides, you don't get to choose." Whatever became of her laconic easy-going partner? Ryan version 2.0 is strong-willed and forceful, and frankly, Caz is delighted by the transformation.

Her man sets to work, alternating between an old-fashioned wooden ruler and a new leather paddle. He's arrived prepared, using the occasion to gauge the difference between the two implements of correction.

"What the actual fuck?" an outraged Caz exclaims.

"Enjoying the paddle? I've kept the receipt as a legitimate business tax expense," grins Ryan.

"Ho bloody Ho," Caz grits her teeth, soon discovering how it inexorably heats a broad expanse of her taut posterior, stoking a deep arousal. In contrast, the rotten little ruler he spanks her with next hurts like hell, especially when applied to her thighs.

Oblivious to Caz's increasingly plaintive wails of distress, Ryan continues chastising her scarlet bottom cheeks. In her heart Caz knows she deserves this spanking, a comeuppance for deceiving her husband; a chance to rebalance their relationship and surrender to Ryan's assured authority. Mercifully he halts and, burning bottom or not, there's only one possible denouement.

Struggling to her feet Caz put her hands on Ryan's shoulders, pushing him backwards, dragging down his jeans and boxers to grasp his rock-hard cock. Kissing him fiercely she straddles her husband cowgirl-style, guiding the tip of his erection into her gaping sex. Responding to this urgent abandon, Ryan thrusts eagerly as Caz skewers herself fully onto his penis, moaning softly as it fills her wet pussy.

"Spanking me seems to have made you even bigger than usual," she whispers huskily, tensing her internal muscles as he sinks deeper inside, rocking animatedly back and forth on his pulsating girth and already close to orgasm.

Ryan reaches behind to squeeze his wife's still tender moons, eliciting a pained cry as, tipped over the edge she climaxes noisily. However, her man is not yet done, he flips Caz onto her back, legs pointing upwards in a broad V-shape, stilettos flying off.

"You're going to get properly fucked," he announces, forcing Caz's thighs wide apart and plunging balls deep into her hot honeypot. This is Ryan's moment, and he pounds Caz vigorously.

"Go on," says a female voice that turns out to be her own, "faster, hard and deep."

"Got to come," he gasps, and Caz feels his lower body convulse, ejaculating in a hot fountain. Ecstatic yells herald Caz's second crescendo, her ankles wrap around his waist to pull him close and they orgasm together.

To say the punters love the special 'stockings and spanking' episodes that ensue is an understatement and the pair's scheduled online retirement is indefinitely postponed. Website subscriptions expand exponentially; their coveted first home is paid for and purchased within months. Ryan quits his job to run the business from a garden studio, wherein Caz's long-suffering rear end suffers a whole series of inventive disciplinary experiences - cane, tawse, you name it. At this rate, they'll need to recruit a stunt double! Good job she hasn't yet read what else fans suggest might befall her bottom...