I was woken by a steady pressure on my arm, pulling it gently upwards, above my head. I tried to turn, found I couldn't. As consciousness returned I realised I was face down on the edge of the mattress, both arms pulled above my head, secured by a single cuff and cord to a bedpost. My legs were likewise held together, attached to the post at the foot of the bed.

'Good morning Princess,' came a voice I knew well. 'How was your slumber? You certainly slept soundly. I've been waiting here for a while. I was just about to wake you by other means.' I managed turn my head, and saw a male torso and an erect cock that I knew well.

'Morning glory,' I said. 'How nice to see you. Now if you'll just untie me I'll be able to get to grips with you properly.'

A throaty chuckle. 'Good try. Last night I was helpless on that bed. Now it's your turn.'

The words brought a flutter to my stomach, and I felt a familiar tingle of anticipation in another part of my anatomy. No, make that two parts. My bottom was exposed, and vulnerable. A picture jumped into my mind, of the view from the room cam. I hoped it didn't make my bum look too big. The image was shattered by a loud thwack and a sharp pain in that same exposed part of my body. I gasped and twisted to see a flexible leather paddle flashing upwards.

Crack! It laid a path of fire across both globes. I gulped a lungful of air, to let it out in a cry as, with another Crack!, the leather flashed across my backside in a hard, stinglng blow.

Crack! Crack! Crack! I was twisting, turning my hips, not to escape the blows, but because I knew it enhanced the feeling, made me even more aroused. I also had a mind to the hidden camera: I wanted to put on a show.

Crack! Crack! the length of smooth, thick leather was whipping across my backside, not giving me time to react, becoming an all-encompassing single act, a true leathering, the kind I had been on the end of as a young girl when my mother had been particularly angry with my behaviour. I had hated it then; I welcomed it, craved it, now. I concentrated on the pain, embraced it. I felt the burn on the inside too, felt it build. Our morning spankings were normally over fairly quickly, and gave me no more than a mild tingling throughout the day; this one was different: longer and harder, not that I minded. I love Jeff, but sometimes I wish he would be a bit more assertive in his spanking. I wondered if he had been watching some television this morning.

With a final brace of extra hard blows from the paddle my punishment stopped and I felt the bonds being slipped off my ankles. I was roughly turned around, and manoevered so that I was lying at an angle across the bed. I cried out with pain, as my punished backside made contact with the sheet. I writhed, opened my legs as wide as they would go and angled my hips shamelessly as I felt the mattress take the weight of another body, to make myself more easily available to what I wanted: Jeff's engorged cock.

I moaned with pleasure as I felt the fullness of his manhood slide into me. My backside stung deliciously against the mattress, as he pressed downwards, and I pushed upwards in an instinctive reaction. Jeff supported himself on his arms as he slowly withdrew to the tip and slid back in, filling me. His thrusts gradually picked up speed. Soon his hips were slamming into me and I was writhing and twisting beneath him. I cried out with pleasure, pain, ecstacy. The restraints on my arms enhanced the feeling, the helplessness of my position. It meant I could abandon myself completely to the sensation of being being taken completely, being fucked hard, totally under Jeff's control 

I soon felt that familiar feeling build inside me, and my upward thrusts became more urgent, more forceful. Jeff's thrusts became shorter, more staccato, and His eyes screwed shut as he started to come. As soon as I felt his cock thicken I allowed my own orgasm to overwhelm me. I came in wave after wave of white heat as he pumped the warm life force deep into me.

We lay together, breathing heavily, for a few minutes. I managed to angle my neck enough to make contact with Jeff's lips and we shared a long, lingering kiss. I broke first, and surveyed my lover.

'Well, that was some good morning. Not that I'm complaining. It was fantastic. Worth the cost of this hotel all on its own.'

Jeff bounded to his feet, undid my wrists. 'It's the most fantastic place!' I hadn't seen him this enthusiastic since I introduced him to my old slipper, all these years ago. 'Have you seen the rooms they've got downstairs? I can't wait to try them out with you.' His face fell. 'But I have to leave you for a couple of hours. My mum texted me. She wants to buy me a coffee, in town, give me my present. I couldn't say no, it is my birthday after all.'

He looked so crestfallen I had to laugh. 'Don't worry about me. They have a pool here. I'll get some wholesome exercise and indulge myself in some luxury. Now, let's get some breakfast. For some reason I'm starving.'

The chairs in the dining room seemed to have got harder during the night. I only just stopped myself whimpering when I sat down. I was wearing jeans and a plain t-shirt. The jeans were, I reflected, a bad choice. Too tight by half. Half of the other tables were occupied, and by the amount of uncomfortable squirming going on I wasn't the only one to have been treated to a wake-up spanking. The staff on duty were new to me, and something was missing. After a few minutes I worked out what it was: Rayanne.

Jeff chatted away like the excitable puppy that he still was, about what we would be getting up to later that day. I half-listened, thinking about what I was going to do for the rest of the morning. When he kissed me and bounded out of the door I made my solitary way back to the room. It was nice, I reflected, as I stood in the opulence, to have a bit of peace. I perched on the end of the bed, only wincing slightly, and flicked through the in-house entertainment. Something interesting was happening in a couple of rooms, but the attraction of voyeurism, I realised, palls after a while.

I decided to get some proper exercise. I'd bought a new swimsuit specially, a bikini in a paisley pattern that I loved. It was one of these that has little ties at the sides of the bikini bottoms. If I could wear it anywhere it was here, I reasoned. I suspected that there wouldn't be too many one piece swimsuits worn in the pool of the Hotel Rouge.

I tied the ties, clipped the top and posed in front of the mirror. It felt good. My body, toned in the gym and by lots of walking and cycling, looked good. I turned, surveyed myself from the rear. The bikini bottom didn't come close to covering the effects of this morning's leathering. I smiled. That looked good too.

On with the bathrobe and down I went. The lift took me to the basement, and I headed through a door with a little diver on it. A row of doors to the right just had numbers. I knew what was behind each one, and looked forward to choosing one with Jeff later today.

The young man behind the low counter gave me a towel and a swim hat, which, it turned out, was obligatory. The pool was empty, and I wasted no time in slipping into the cool velvet water. The pool was a kind of elongated kidney shape, with little openings off the sides, into small, more intimate mini-pools or steps leading directly to numbered doors. The same numbers, I realised, as the doors in the hallway.

I had completed a couple of lengths when I heard a door open and the padding of bare feet. I knew this had to be too good to last. I turned at the end of the pool and draped my arms over the side rail. I saw a very shapely female with her back to me. Young, lithe, wearing a sports bikini with swim shorts, to my mind the least attractive swimwear going; on her it looked sexy. I admired the way her muscles moved under the lycra. Her bottom was rounded, full. Just like - she finished tucking her hair into her bathing cap and turned. It was Rayanne. She gave me a wave and dived gracefully into the water. A few powerful strokes and she was beside me.

'I like to have a few lengths on my mornings off,' she said. 'Keeps me toned.'

'Doesn't look as if you need to do much to keep that body toned. So you live in the hotel then?'

'I have room on the top floor. I've been here nearly a year. I love it.' She lay back in the water, raised a shapely leg. 'Everything about it.' She lowered her leg, turned her head to look right at me. 'But then who wouldn't?' She kicked off from the side and made her way, using a relaxed backstroke, down the pool. I watched her progress; her pelvis and breasts were right on the waterline, and her legs, when they broke the surface, were smoothly muscled.

I kicked off and followed, using powerful strokes to catch her up. She was waiting at the other end.

'I like your bikini,' she said. 'Looks new. Bought for the occasion?'

I thought for a heartbeat. 'It is. Did you see me posing in it on my roomcam?' I smiled. 'I wanted to see how it looked.'

She gave me quite the most lascivious smile. 'No need to apologise. Your roomcam is the one of the moment. You and Jeff are quite the celebs of the Rouge. I'm just glad I've got you all to myself for the moment.'

I felt my pulse quicken. 'Why? What do you want to do with me?' My voice sounded a bit huskier than usual.

She paused for a heartbeat, her green eyes looking directly into mine. 'How would you like to see in one of the special rooms? She nodded towards the numbered doors. 'Number 4 is free. And.' she leant in, took my hand under the water, 'I've got the key.'

I followed her up a flight of steps and out of the pool, eyes glued to the rotation of that rounded ass. I stood dripping as Rayanne folded back her towel to reveal an oversized metal key.

Towel in hand, she padded to door number 4, turned the lock, pushed the handle, stood back and I went in. The room was square and contained a long, low couch, an inverted y-shaped contraption that was at least two metres tall and a solid looking wooden table. Uplighters on the walls and tightly focussed spots created an atmosphere that was intimate and dark. I felt the tension between us as I heard the big lock turn behind me.

Rayanne walked to the centre of the room and took off her bathing cap. Her hair, normally tied back in a severe ponytail, tumbled out. She was naturally pale, and the dark, luscious hair that now framed her face made her seem almost ephemeral. She walked over and lifted the bathing cap off my head. Our faces were about six inches apart. Her eyes looked into mine with a direct, unflinching gaze. For a second I thought she was going to kiss me. For the next five seconds I thought I was going to kiss her.

She broke the spell, picked up her towel. 'Before we begin, let's dry you off. Wouldn't want a guest catching cold.' I felt the thick towel on my shoulders. She moved around me, and smoothed the towel across my skin, down my arms, to my breasts. I took in a long, shuddering breath, held her hand to stop her, reached back and unclipped the catch on my bikini top. I closed my eyes as I felt my breasts being caressed, slowly and sensuously. I could feel Rayanne's quickening breath on my bare skin as my breasts became fuller, as my nipples hardened. The towel circled my torso, and I felt the ties on my bikini bottoms being slowly pulled. The wet material peeled from my skin. I heard a slight intake of breath behind me, and I felt the thick material wrapping round my hips, being smoothed over my bottom. Then Rayanne was kneeling in front In front of me. She applied the towel to my thighs, wiping slowly inwards, and upwards. I groaned and shifted, opening my legs slightly. I placed a hand on her head, to steady myself perhaps, or to hold her there? I honestly don't know.

'So sensual, so sexy,' she murmured. Then she stood, holding my gaze, and walked backwards to a wide door set in the wall. The room had become charged with sexuality, with lust. I could taste it. She shrugged out of her bikini top, slid the swim shorts over her hips, and down her legs. She stood naked, proud, in front of me. I wanted her and took a step towards her. She held up a hand.

'First, let me show you what the room has to offer. We call it the Rattan Room.' The door swung open. In the shallow cupboard behind hung canes of all lengths and thicknesses. From a low shelf she brought out a bundle of light, thin canes tied together at the base with black ribbon. 'And this is why I wanted to bring you here.' The tension in the room raised by a factor of at least three. My breath caught in my throat as Rayanne laid the birch rods down on the table. 'But first,' she said, reaching into the cupboard again, I would like you to warm me up.' From a hook she took down a short flogger, with thick, lethal-looking leather fronds. 'After all,' said, as she climbed on to the couch, 'you're already warmed up. You have a distinct advantage.'

She lay down on her front on the couch, clasped her hands together and stretched them out before her. Her legs were close together, her ankles crossed. I realised she was replicating the position I had woken up in. The position I was in when I felt the kiss of leather on my backside only an hour ago. The reminder made me focus on my own feelings. In the charged atmosphere of the room, with this seductive, beautiful woman, my body was pulsing, tingling with anticipation, with sex. I was intensely aware of the after-effects of this morning's spanking every time I moved.

I stood at her side, surveying the lean body stretched out in front of me. Her position enhanced the roundness of her pert bottom. It was white, smooth. I was going to change that. My voice was low, almost a whisper. 'I'm going to flog that pert little backside of yours. Hard. I've wanted to ever since you showed me to my room.'

She shifted on the couch. 'And I've wanted to show you how to use the birch since I watched you using it on him. He has a nice ass too, by the way.'

I reacted to that with a quick flick of the flogger on the rounded cheeks. Her muscles jumped slightly. 'Am I going to have to warn you off?' I asked.

She wriggled her hips slightly, turned her head to smile at me over her shoulder. 'I don't know. Are you?'

I didn't respond, but draped the soft leather fronds across the smoothness of her behind. They were wide, and about 15 inches long. I moved them across the rounded globes. The figure stretched on the couch shuddered. I raised the flogger round, behind my back, and down. The leather strips whipped across that perfect backside. Rayanne moved her hips, jutted her ass upwards, but made no sound. I decided to increase the strength of the blows slightly each time. Leather met skin with a sound like a rifle shot. Rayanne's back muscles tensed and her legs became very straight. Her hands became fists. I swung the whip round, gathering momentum. It cracked across her backside. She raised her head, arched her back. The leather strips rose and fell. Crack! I was in a zone, a world that consisted of me, the leather whips and Rayanne. Crack! A sound, half cry, half moan. The hips shifted, right cheek lifting. Crack! 'Aaah!' The cry was sexual. Crack! 'Oh..' Rayanne's head dropped, her legs moved together, hips writhing. I decided to finish it. Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! The flogger rose and fell, rose and fell, giving no respite. Rayanne's cries grew in volume, stopped suddenly as the blows ceased. Her backside, white as alabaster a few short minutes ago, was now covered in deep red stripes.

Rayanne took a deep, shuddering breath, let it out in a series of short bursts. A low moan broke from her lips. She turned her head, looked right at me. 'I knew this was a good idea. And now,' she turned on to her hip, 'it's your turn.' She sat up, wincing as her bottom made contact with the couch, stood up. She walked, a bit stiffly, to the table, picked up the birch rods.

'Over here, Laura.'

I swallowed hard, moved across the room. My senses were aflame. The table was heavy, solid. My breasts flattened against the dark wood. It felt cool against my skin. My hips braced against the edge; I kept my legs tight together to stop them shaking. My knuckles were white as I gripped the far edge of the table. The birch lay on the table beside my right hand. I studied it. It had exactly 12 thin rods, each with a black tip. The rods were the same length, about 18 inches. It looked cruel. I waited.

Rayanne moved behind me, and a muscle in my leg jumped involuntarily as her hand followed the contours of my bottom, lifted, to deliver a stinging slap on my left cheek. I waited.

Finally, she picked up the birch rods. 'Let the lesson begin,' she said.

I was so tense the muscles in my legs and back jumped slightly in reaction when the thin rods made contact with my skin. Rayanne laid them gently across my cheeks. 'When you birched Jeff, you just weighed in, as you would have with a belt, or a cane. A birch offers other possibilities.' Her voice was soft, seductive in the quiet room.

The rods left my skin, only to return in a series of gentle strokes, whispering across my backside. The effect was a mild tingling sensation. A gentle heat gradually covered the whole of my bottom as Rayanne expertly played the rods, covering every inch of skin.

'Then,' she said, 'when the subject is sufficiently warmed up, a harder stroke.'

The rods swished, and I felt a dozen separate canes bite into me. I cried out, arched my back.

'You stayed down. Impressive.' Her voice, for all her poise, was husky.

The tattoo of light strokes started again. Were they harder than before, or was my skin more tender because of the harder stroke? I moved my hips, readying myself for the next full stroke. But it didn't come. The rods caressed the tight skin, covering the whole of my bottom with even, lightly stinging strokes. The torture was exquisite, the pain building slowly. I pressed my hips on to the edge of the desk, then pushed my bottom up and outwards. As if she'd been waiting for this, Rayanne whipped the canes down sharply. They bit into me with a swoosh. The pain seemed to penetrate deep inside. It met an inner heat that had been building slowly, slowly with the light strokes of the birch rods. I gritted my teeth, grunted, tensed myself. The tattoo of light strokes again, moving across my smarting, stinging bottom. Three, four, then whoosh - the rods bit home 'Aaah!' Rayanne didn't stop, didn't react. The light strokes seemed harder now, and there were only three more before a swoosh as the rods spread their sting across both cheeks. 'Aaah. Oh. Oh.' As my bottom was flayed by the birch rods the fire inside me built steadily as the rods flashed across both cheeks, quicker and harder, until there were no more soft, tender strokes, just a barrage of hard swooshing strokes, rapid, painful strokes. My backside was being birched, hard, with no respite.

Then it stopped. I panted, my mind numb, my backside scorched, aflame. I waited. Then the rods whispered across my punished cheeks again. I knew nothing but the sound and the soft, gentle sting of the birch rods as they patterned my backside. They became a caress. My mind became one with the birch rods. I became the pain, it became me. Then the intensity started to build. The strokes were getting harder, the whispering became a gentle swoosh, then a louder swoosh, echoed by my cries as the rods bit into me. White pain. Meeting the rolling, rising wave of heat inside me. My legs trembled as I bucked and writhed as the burning of my cheeks merged with the swell of heat from inside my groin. A rushing, sweet orgasm tore through me, and I came, and came, and came, my hips jerking against the table, my legs splaying out, my back arching, my head back, as I called out in an ecstasy of pleasure and pain. I slumped against the table as the spasms subsided. A muscle in my right leg jerked and I had to hold on to the table to stop myself collapsing on the floor.

Then I felt Rayanne's hands on my hips. She smoothed my burning cheeks with her hands, and I felt a cool, soothing lotion on my hot, punished skin. I lay across the dark wood, my breathing slowly returning to normal as she stroked and soothed.

I don't know how long I lay across that table. When I straightened my backside felt tight as a drum, and stung like never before. I managed to cross the room to a full size mirror. From the front I looked as if I had been vigorously fucked. My hair was a mess, my face was flushed and my eyes were wild, and wide. I turned slowly. My backside was - like nothing I'd seen before. Every square inch of my pride and joy was red, an even, dark red. I touched it gingerly. 'Jesus. That was..'

Rayanne stood beside me, clearly enjoying the view in the mirror. 'And that's how you use the birch,' she said. Her eyes were glinting, her mouth was open, her parted  lips were moist, inviting. I knew with absolute certianty what she wanted. What we both wanted.

I turned, put my hands to her shoulders, and kissed her full on the mouth. She returned the kiss with passion and force, and led me, still joined lips to lips, over to the couch. I stopped, and broke away. I smiled, and pushed her gently backwards. The lips of her pussy were moist, engorged. She lay on her back and raised her knees. I kneeled and lowered my head. I nibbled, I teased, I licked, I pulled gently with my teeth, my tongue gently probing, moving, seeking. She sighed, a deep, shuddering sigh. I placed a hand on each thigh - she had beautiful thighs, rounded and muscled and lean - and pushed them wider. She grasped my hair with both hands, held me to her. The salty taste was intoxicating. My tongue stroked and soothed and then penetrated, darting ever deeper. A cry and she arched her back, angling her hips upwards. I cupped my hands under that fantastic arse, feeling the muscles moving, as her hips writhed. I knew she was close. My tongue lapped then probed, lapped then probed, deeper each time. Her hips bucked again. My hands gripped her bottom, and at the crucial moment I dug my nails in hard. She cried out, pleasure and pain combining, as her orgasm overwhelmed her.

Later that day, I was lying face down on the bed, swathed in my pink robe, reading a magazine, when Jeff got back. I closed my magazine, propped myself up on my elbow. 

'How was the birthday lunch? Mummy give you a nice present?'

He held up a bundle, once carefully wrapped, the paper now torn. 'Socks. Just what I needed.' He dropped them on the chair, bounded on to the bed. The mattress bounced and my pelvis moved about six inches, my still raw backside rubbing against the heavy cotton. I winced slightly.

'So what have you been doing with yourself?' he asked. 'Had a lazy day here, in the lap of luxury?'

I stroked his hair. He was so sweet. 'No, I went for a swim. Then I had a masterclass. A lesson I will never forget. And neither will you.' I slid off the bed, opened the gown to reveal the familiar black basque and stockings. I held out my hand. 'Come on, I've got room 4 booked for the next hour.' Bewildered but enticed, he took my hand and I led him, like a lamb to the slaughter, out of the door. As I passed the mirror I winked.