Three Hot Days

Then she stopped what she was doing, looked up at me, and spoke.

"I'm ready Malcolm, More ready than I've ever been. Take me to bed."

She lay on the bed on her back with her legs splayed wide open. Positioned as she was, her camel toe was on full display. She was completely hairless, and her arousal was easy for me to see. Her skin was still wet since neither of us had used a towel.

I entered her easily. Her cunt was tight and slippery and gripped me as I moved. At first, I moved slowly and gently as we looked into each other eyes, but then she started to groan, looked up at me, and spoke.

"I haven't had it for so long, I want it hard and fast."

I didn't need to be asked and picked up my pace until I was pounding her, and the bed board started to rattle.

Our bellies slapped together, and Claire continued to talk.

"That's good, That's good."

"I want it! I want it! I want it!"

"Give it to me! Give it to me! Give it to me!"

"Fill me with your cum.! Fill my cunt with your cum!"

And then she stopped talking. I watched her mouth open in a perfect O and her eyes rolled upwards in her head. Beneath me, her entire body seemed to shudder as she writhed, and her thigh and cunt muscles seemed to quiver. She moaned in ecstasy as she came. Her orgasm seemed to last forever but was probably close to half a minute long, and then slowly she stilled and became silent.

I did not withdraw but stayed inside her as I watched her recover, I looked down at her red flushed face and she smiled up at me.

"Fuck. That was wonderful."

"More?" I asked.

She nodded,

"Fuck yes."

Then as she knelt on all fours on the bed, I fucked her doggy-style. I knew that she still did not want it gentle, and I gave it to her as hard and fast as I could, my balls slapping as I pounded at her snatch.

My dick was like a steel bar as Claire continued to extoll me to fuck her deep and fill her with my cum, and when she screamed, her body stiffened, her perineal muscles tightened and relaxed, and I watched her anus pucker, I spurted deep inside of her.

***

A little later, we were in the hotel restaurant. We sat by the window and below us the black mass of the River Mersey flowed past us in the dark. The lights of the Wirral, on the far bank, twinkled.

"What now?" I asked. "Can you come and live in Liverpool?"

"I can try. There's a history teacher's job advertised. The closing date for applications is next week. I imagine the interviews would be a few weeks later."

"What are your chances?"

"Depends on who else applies. It's in the middle of the school year and there may be fewer applicants. I'm well qualified but inexperienced, I can only try. If I don't get it, I'll try Manchester, Bolton, Preston, Chester. Somewhere close."

"If you get the job, will you live with me?

"It depends on what you mean by live with. My parents are old-fashioned, but I love them and don't want to upset them. They wouldn't approve of my shacking up with you but would be fine with me sharing a house with my own room. Do you have a tenant?"

"An old school friend, James. He has one bedroom and I have another. But, there's a smaller room that's empty. You could have that as a study-bedroom. I don't imagine you'll need to use the bed there much."

"Perfect," she said. "All I need now is the job."

It took over a month. Claire returned to Leeds the following morning and I distracted myself with my studies. The job interview was three weeks later, and shortly afterward she was successful.

Apart from the one day when she came to Liverpool for her interview, and we shagged all night, we did not see each other. She rang me several times a week from a payphone near her house and I would wait nervously by the phone in my house waiting for it to ring.

The day before her interview I advertised for a flatmate in the Liverpool Echo. I bought Claire a copy and then told every applicant who enquired about the room that it had been taken. The evening that she phoned me to tell me she had been successful, I told her to show the advert to her Dad.

It worked. Two days later, on a Saturday afternoon, Claire arrived for a second "interview." Her father drove her. We showed her the house and whilst her father appraised us, we chatted to Claire. A little later everyone was satisfied, and the deal was done. The rent for the room was for fifteen pounds a week and a third share of household bills. I never took a penny.

The following Sunday evening Claire moved in. This time her mother came too and made a point of making sure that there was enough tea, coffee, and sugar in the kitchen. She seemed genuinely pleased with the cleanliness of the house but was very surprised when I told her that it was clean and tidy because I owned it. She was even happier when I told her there would be no wild student parties that would end up with the house being wrecked.

She helped Claire to make the bed in her room. The bed was new and had been purchased only the week before. It was only for show. Claire wouldn't be using it.

One evening, a couple of days later, after a long phone call from her mother, Claire came into the lounge where I was watching television. She was laughing.

"What's so funny," I asked.

"When the time comes, we won't have to worry about breaking the news about us to my parents. My mum was asking me if I knew whether you had a girlfriend. She told me you were polite, good-looking, sensible, and doing a sensible degree, and you already owned your own house. She said you were a catch."

"What did you say?"

"I poo-pooed, the idea of course. I told her with all that going for you, you must have some dark secret or other."

***

When Claire moved in I was three weeks shy of my twentieth birthday on Friday, March the eighth. I knew that she would be twenty-three in December and had committed the date to memory.

A week before the big (?) day Claire turned to me and spoke.

"I have a special birthday treat planned for you."

"What's that?"

"Now, I'm not going to tell you, am I?"

"Give me a clue. Is it something I want?"

"I'm not sure. But I want it and you once told me you need it."

Cryptically, she was telling me to prepare myself for a spanking.

That evening she got a good hard fucking.

***

When I woke on the morning of my twentieth birthday, Claire was already awake. She smiled at me and kissed me briefly on the lips, As we lay side by side in bed she rolled over and picked up a box covered in wrapping paper from by her bed and handed it to me.

"Happy birthday, Malcolm. I love you."

As I inquisitively opened the box having torn the paper off, Clair continued, very matter of factly to talk.

"It's only part of what I'm going to give you."

As I took the lid off and saw what was inside, she continued.

"I'm going to take you to a hotel room where nobody can hear us, have you strip naked, put your big bare bottom in the air, and thrash it hard, with that strap. Now, How many women did you say you fucked when I was in Canada?"

"Three,"

"Well, if we need a reason to punish you that's as good as any. The room is booked for tomorrow. I remember you saying that anticipation was part of the "pleasure" of the process. It may be, but when I apply that to your bare bum tomorrow afternoon I don't believe that you will enjoy it, although I shall, I promise you,"

I took the strap from the box and held it in my hand, It was made of heavy thick brown leather, around two feet in length, and had three tails around nine inches long. In places, It was bleached white with age,

"I'm told It's a genuine borstal tawse from the 1910s. Almost certainly used on the bare buttocks of young men and ladies. I'm sure it has a few stories to tell. Tomorrow morning you can rub some neatsfoot oil into it and make it nice and supple."

Minutes later she was lying flat on her back, legs spread, and knees bent as I lay between her thighs and fucked her. It was animalistic, and as I rammed my rock-hard flesh deep inside of her she mewed with pleasure. Her mouth was wide her eyes rolled back in rapture as she came. Her body bucked and quivered and the muscles of her cunt spasmed whilst I emptied my seed deep inside her.

***

The day following my birthday I woke late. I had drunk the best part of a bottle of wine the night before and had slept well and was surprisingly refreshed. I showered and dressed and went downstairs. Claire was busy in the kitchen and had prepared me toast, eggs, and coffee. At the end of the table sat the strap, the oil, and some cotton rags. She had her back to me when she spoke. Her tone was calm and business-like.

"Finish your breakfast and put the plates in the dishwasher when you've finished. Then rub the oil into the strap. I want it gleaming and flexible when I return. I'm going for a run. I have a taxi booked for twelve o'clock this afternoon. When we get to the hotel you will strip and do exactly as I tell you and I shall spank you.

Here are the ground rules for today. You will not talk except to answer me. You have a safe word. It is rose. If you shout, stop, or anything else as I am spanking you, it will make no difference. Unless I hear the word rose, I will continue to spank you until I decide that you have had enough. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Claire."

"Tell me your safe word."

"Rose."

I was sitting at the table kneading the tawse when Claire arrived home about an hour later. She took it from me and inspected it.

"Excellent," she murmured. "That will do nicely."

Half an hour we were in the taxi on our way into town. She had showered and dressed and put on her coat. In her hand, she carried a large capacious bag. We did not talk, and it was clear that Claire was intent on giving a very real punishment, and I felt the familiar feeling of expectation and fear. My stomach was churning and my mouth dry when we arrived at the Pullman Hotel and ascended, in the lift, to the room.

No sooner had the door closed behind us than Claire spoke to me for the first time since leaving the house.

"Take your clothes off, go to the bathroom, close the door, take a shower, dry yourself, and wait until I call you. Don't you dare touch your dick."

She made me wait for fifteen minutes before I heard her voice.

"Come here, Malcolm."

I entered the room. She had closed the curtains and was sitting on the straight-backed armless chair that had been sitting at the writing desk in the far corner of the room but was now situated in the centre of the space close by the end of the bed, The strap lay at the end of the bed and three pillows were piled on top of each other in the middle of the bed. She was wearing Jog pants and a sweatshirt and beckoned me to come to her with a single curled finger.

"Come here and lie across my lap..... Be quick about it."

I did as I was told and waited with my arse upturned, and my trepidation grew. She slapped me on the right cheek, and it stung. Then she slapped me on the left a little harder. She kept up a regular rhythm working from right to left and back again, the intensity of her blows increasing as she worked, and very soon my bum was a hot stinging mass. I do not know how long she continued to strike me, but time seemed to stand still. Suddenly she stopped and spoke.

"Go to the corner," she said. "Don't look around. Look at the wall."

Again, I did as I was instructed, and for the first time, I realised my penis was hard and erect.

"Come back and assume the position."

I turned and she had shed her outer garments. She was sitting on the chair wearing red gartered stockings and a red bra.

I lay across her. She made me put my right hand behind my back, held my right hand in her left, and then pinioned my legs between hers. My erection was hard between us. Now she slapped me... hard. Her hand impacted my right cheek with a resounding crack, and I gasped. A few seconds later I felt her slap my left cheek; a hard stinging blow. My arse was on fire as she covered every square inch of my bum flesh with her palmprint, and I squirmed beneath her hand and gasped.

And then she stopped.

"Put your bum over the pillows. Time to feel the strap."

I lay on the bed, buttocks raised and burning, and then I heard a meaty thwack and felt an even more intense stinging sensation across the centre of my nates, and for the first time, I yelled.

"Fuckkkk!"

Almost immediately, I felt another stroke and another and now an atrocious burning seemed to cover my entire arse. The strokes kept coming and I gurgled and swore and writhed from side to side and prayed for it to stop. It was then that I remembered....

"Rose!" I screamed.

The punishment stopped and I lay still, slick with sweat.

"I hope that hurt said," Claire.

"Like hell," I said and looked across at her. She was flushed, her lips were moist, and her eyes glinted.

"Now I'm going to give you a choice," she said.

"Do you want to fuck me now?"

"Oh yes," I groaned.

"Then six more hard strokes for a fuck. That's the price."

I hesitated but she already knew what my answer would be.

"OK," I said.

"Lie still, raise your bum, and turn your head. I want you to watch me and I want to see your eyes."

She put the strap down on the bed, moved to where I could see her, smiled, and slowly removed, first her bra, and then her stockings. Then she retrieved the strap and stood naked, holding it by her side with her legs apart. and looked at me. Her arousal was obvious Her cheeks and upper chest were flushed, her nipples erect, and her bald slit glistened with her juices.

She positioned herself by my side and measured the strap across my buttocks. Her Legs were spread as she stood with her right hand by her shoulder and the strap hanging down behind her back.

"No safe word now," she said conversationally, before bringing the strap down fast and hard across my tortured cheeks. There was a loud slap, fresh pain erupted across my bottom, and I yelled.

"Oh fuck!"

I watched her repeat the process. Although she hit me no harder, the pain I felt was far worse than before.

"Shit, That hurt!"

The third, fourth, and fifth strokes slapped down across my arse overlapping each other and causing me to screech and wiggle.

"Fuck! Oh Fuck! Oh Fuck! Ohhhh Fuccck!"

I waited for the last stroke, but it didn't come. Then I heard her voice.

"Only one to go Malcolm, but It's going to be special. Please take your position with your bum over the pillows in the centre of the bed. I'll warn you when it's coming."

I watched Claire compose herself and step a little further away from the bed. She stood still for maybe ten seconds looking down at my bum, and then I heard her speak.

"Prepare yourself."

She bent her legs at the knees, then threw the strap high into the air above and behind her head, whilst arching her back and straightening her legs as she did. Then in one fluid motion, and without pausing, she brought the strap slicing downward whilst bending her knees to increase the power in the stroke.

For a brief moment, her movement reminded me of a top-class tennis serve, but almost immediately all thoughts of what her movement might resemble were immediately erased from my mind.

The tawse made a deafening nose as it impacted, Thwappppppppppppp! and the power of the stroke was enough to drive me forcibly downward onto the pillows. As the three tails of the strap coiled around my flank and bit into my flesh I imagined that someone had emptied a bucket of hot coals across my nates and all I could do was babble and gurgle in pain.

My hands flew to my arse as I writhed across the bed, and then slowly as the worst of the pain subsided I lay still.

A little later Claire lay beside me and kissed me gently on the neck and I turned towards her and kissed her on the lips. We passionately embraced, Her nipples were hard against my chest, and my penis was hard against her belly.

"You're still horny after that?"

"I'm going to fuck your brains out and there's no safe word."

***

Later we lay together.

"Can I see your arse," she asked.

I got out of bed, turned, and showed it to her. Behind me, I heard a sharp intake of breath.

"Did I do that? I'm so sorry. Please don't hate me."

I got back into bed, took her head between my hands, and kissed her gently on the lips.

"I love you more than life itself. You gave me something that I needed. You simply did a very good job of it. "

"Are we that fucked up? "she asked.

"Different, I would say. But well suited, I need to have my bare arse disciplined and you appear to like doing it..... You do like doing it?"

"Too much, Matron warned me about getting carried away,"

"Matron?"

"I was going to tell you. It's simple really. I enjoyed watching her caning you even though I felt sorry for you. I was so conflicted. I think I still am. Then after we talked, I realised pity was a stupid emotion. It was what you wanted. I don't understand why you need to feel a woman spank your arse, but from the day Matron caned you, I knew I wanted to do the same. It turns me on so much and I don't know why. I liked you from the moment I met you at the garden gate when I was wearing that silly straw hat. I think I started to love you when you saw me masturbating and said nothing to your mad sister.

Three weeks ago I knew that I wanted to give you a caning but hadn't a clue how to do it, so I rang Matron, She gave me a lot of advice. Use a tawse; it's safer than a cane but still effective, warm your bum up first, practice by hitting a pillow before I hit you, use a safe word, and don't get carried away. I managed four out of five."

"Have you ever had bad sex, I asked, the sort of sex that afterward you wished you hadn't bothered with?"

"Of course."

"Well, imagine the emotional commitment I made before you took the strap to me today. Do you think I wanted you to do a half-arse job? - Forgive the pun."

***

After that when Claire disciplined me she never apologised for hurting me again. In the first few years that we were together, she punished me four times, always with the borstal strap. Twice, she strapped me on my birthday, once when I spilled red wine down her favourite dress, and once when I got drunk and vomited in the toilet. Each time she made me wait until the following Saturday and made me book into a hotel.

I graduated in the summer of 1986 as did James. He was awarded a first-class degree in physics and offered a place at CERN in Geneva to research for a PhD. Meanwhile, I was to remain in Liverpool and study for a PhD in marine biology.

Claire and I decided it was the perfect time to marry. Now James had left we had the house to ourselves at last. One Sunday in September, we travelled to Manchester together to visit her parents, and whilst Claire distracted her mother in the kitchen, I followed her father into the garden where I asked him for permission to marry his daughter, and I was not surprised when he said yes.

When we sat down to a late Sunday lunch her mother was effusive. She had finished her third glass of champagne when she giggled happily and turned to Claire.

"We stopped thinking you were just flatmates a long time back."

We married in late October. I had wanted a small wedding whilst Claire's mother wanted something much larger. It was only when I told Claire's mum that no one from my family would be attending that she agreed not to invite hundreds of third cousins twice removed, and we cut the invitations to a mere eighty people. James was my best man, and attended with his girlfriend, Judith. On my side, I invited a dozen or so friends from school and university. My guest of honour was Mrs White, who cried throughout the service, whilst sitting next to her was Matron. As they chatted afterward I wondered what Mrs White would say if she ever learned what lay beneath Matron's cheery facade.