Hotel Rouge was everything its website promised - intimate, discreet and luxurious. There was no check-in desk, just a table in the richly decorated hall, where the young woman who materialised as soon as I came in noted my name, took a tasseled key from a drawer and picked up my bag. I couldn't help watching the seductive rotation of her marvellously rounded bottom on the way upstairs - the tight skirt showed it off to perfection, and I got the impression that the woman was more than aware of the view she was presenting.

When I stepped into my room she laid my case on the bed and withdrew. She paused at the door.

'If there's anything you desire, madam, just pull the cord by the bed. I or one of my colleagues will attend.' A smile and she started to close the door.

'One moment please.' She stopped, fixed her gaze on me. Her eyes were a seductive green. 'My husband should be here in about an hour. Please show him up as soon as he arrives.'

'Very good madam.' The door closed softly. I turned the lock on the handle, and surveyed the room. It was heaven. Soft lighting, deep carpets, heavy curtains framing floor to ceiling windows looking on to one of London's most exclusive squares. Following the name of the hotel - The Rouge - the fabrics and furnishings followed a red theme, a dark, sensuous, sexy red. For this was a specialist hotel, couples only, and only couples who were seeking a specialist kind of pleasure.

The room was large, and featured a long, low couch, a serious, heavy looking armchair, a long, low chest of drawers, a walnut writing desk with a chair in front of it. And the bed. The mattress was about waist height, velvet fabric draped over the four poster frame, a rich, sumptuous bedspread, the corner turned back just so, offering a glimpse of cream satin sheets. The top drawer in the chest of drawers was only about six inches deep. I slid it open. Well, well. A selection of paddles, belts and crops, laid out ever so nicely on padded velvet. The drawer beneath contained a fine selection of bamboo canes, of differing weights, from the thin and whippy to the serious, knobbled old school, complete with hooked handle. I took one out, swished it around a little. It sounded loud in the stillness of the room. Then I found the piece de resistance: a bundle of birch rods, tied together at one end with a red ribbon, which was twined round to form a handle. We'd never tried one of these before. I replaced it, pushing it to the back of the cane drawer. I wanted it to be my surprise, if possible. Mainly because I wanted to try if out on Jeff before I felt it on my own backside. All this made me feel quite aroused.

Through a panelled door into a dressing room lined with mirrors, behind which were wardrobes. A few minutes and my clothes were neatly stowed away. I opened the door at the other end of the dressing room, to find a large, square bathroom with a claw foot bath at its centre. I couldn't resist. In a few minutes the room was filled with fragrant steam, and I was lowering myself into blissful bubbles. My hands crept down, through the warm, scented water, to my vagina, and I gave myself to onanism. Afterwards I allowed myself ten minutes' relaxation, then wrapped myself in a towel so thick I thought at first I had picked up two. Hanging behind the door were two towelling bathrobes, one a dusky pink and one a deep red. How very sexist. A canvas bag hung behind each one. Inside, a pair of mule slippers in matching tones, a cut above the usual hotel wear, these had thick, soft leather soles, and were the last word in comfort.

I padded through to the dressing room. I had chosen tonight's costume with care: black, lacy basque, dark, sheer stockings, the briefest of suspenders, black with red trimmings, and white, sheer silk knickers. Jeff was 33 tomorrow and I was determined to make this birthday treat one he would remember. The hotel was ruinously expensive, and from what I'd seen so far it was living up to expectations. We would find out, together, if the hidden extras were as good as the visible ones.

Suitably clad, I appraised myself in the mirror on the wall opposite the bed. I looked good. Hell, I looked fantastic. I turned, and appraised the view from behind. My generous curves had never, I thought, looked quite as good as they did on that night. My waist was trim, and my hips flared gently. My bottom was rounded. My legs were smooth; I privately thought them a bit muscly, but Jeff swore he adored them. As he should. The basque uplifted my breasts, making the most of them. As I turned, I thought I heard a noise and looked towards the door, which remained as closed, and locked, as I had left it. I pulled on the dressing gown, unlocked the door, and climbed on to the bed.

A remote lay on the bedside table, but there was no ubiquitous flat screen in evidence. Intrigued, I pressed the red button. Part of the mirror that faced the bottom of the bed flickered, and a grid of small screens appeared. Three rows of ten. One for every room. This wasn't a television, it was a voyeur's paradise. I found that scrolling along, one by one, gave a full screen, high definition image. I flicked through them quickly, pausing when I saw an attractive dark-haired woman dressed just like me. Oh. I raised my right leg, lowered it, did the same with my left. The image on the screen did the same. The robe looked a bit bulky on me, so I slipped out of it, arranged the cushions into an attractive shape and reclined gracefully.

A few screens along, I paused again. A young couple were having a very .. interesting.. time together. He was tied to the bed, blindfolded, and his impressive cock was getting a lot of attention from a young woman who had an intersting pattern of weals on her bottom. I lay back on my throne of cushions, enthralled. As the action on the screen hotted up so did I. My hand crept down, slipped inside my knickers, and my probing fingers stroked, then pushed past the moist lips of my vagina. The possibility that someone else might be watching me enhanced my solo pleasure, and I found myself coming at the same time as the young woman on the screen.

Ten minutes later, utterly relaxed, I was reclining seductively against my pile of cushions when the door opened and the birthday boy was shown in. He was smiling at the young woman who had shown me to the room. Just a little too much. I enjoyed his reaction when he caught my disapproving look. And the young woman's open, appraising gaze when she saw me.

'That's fine, Rayanne, thanks. I'll manage from here.' He closed the door behind her retreating, pert bottom, and turned to me.

I raised an eyebrow. 'Rayanne? She didn't tell me her name.

He had the good grace to flush slightly. 'You know me, always want to be friendly. And I think it's French or something. Wow. This is some room. Look at that bed!' He gave me his most lascivious smile. 'I think this is going to be a great weekend.'

'I think so too. No welcoming kiss?' I was joined on the bed in impressive haste for a smooch. It wasn't long until his hand was on the inside of my thigh. I held his wrist. 'Not before you have a shower, my boy.' I pointed. 'Through there.' He went as instructed, shedding clothes on the way. Not quite five minutes later he reappeared, smothered in his towelling robe, feet in his slippers, his hair tousled from the steam. He looked sexy, and wonderful. I could feel my temperature rise and my pulse quicken just by looking at him.

But I wanted a show.

'Aren't you warm in that big bathrobe?'

He got the hint, dropped it to the floor. His gym toned body, as ever, took my breath away. Perfection. I crooked a finger, twirled it round. Obediently, he did a 360. How I loved that bum. Almost as much as his cock.

'Seen enough? All to your liking, madame?' He gave a little mock bow. 'I think it's time for some fun. And games.' The suitcase lay on the couch. He opened it. 'Let's see what goodies you've packed for our weekend.' I hadn't told him all the hotel had to offer yet, wanting to savour the surprise. He rummaged through the case, twice, gave me his best stern look, closed it softly.

'Just clothes. Have you taken our toys out already?' His eyes scanned the room. 'Where are they?'

I slid off the bed, leaving my bathrobe behind. 'I didn't pack any.' I put my hands on my hips, looked him straight in the eye, saw the familiar flash. I caught my breath, waited.

Two strides and he held me by the wrist. 'I don't know what your game is, but I'm quite prepared to do this the old fashioned way.' He pulled me towards the couch, sat down and pulled me across his lap. I could imagine the sight that met his eyes - stretched white silk, stocking and garter clad legs stretching to the floor, my neat waist in its lacy basque. I could tell the effect it was having too, by the press of his growing cock against my pelvis.

He rested his hand on my bottom. I held my breath. Come on, I urged silently, spank me! We hadn't had an old-fashioned hand spanking for a while. He smoothed his palm across my roundness, left hand on the small of my back. My hair fell forward, framing my close-up view of the carpet. It was a seriously nice carpet.

What was he waiting for? I longed for the feel of his hand meeting my backside with a sharp crack. He drew in his breath. I let out a small, involuntary whimper.

'You want this, don't you?'

'So do you. I can tell.' I wriggled my hips slightly, making his cock jump.

'Well, I suppose, as it's what you want..' His hand left my silk clad bottom and I felt the first stinging slap. It was a doozy, full across both cheeks. I had forgotten how good his hand felt. I drew in a breath, to expel it in a long, low moan as a flurry of hard, sharp blows rained down on my backside, alternating left cheek, right, left, with the occasional haymaker across both. Soon I was gasping, squirming, moving in his lap, my bottom on fire, another fire burning deep inside. After a few minutes he stopped. I stayed in position, panting, savouring the burn.

His hands grabbed my waist, stood me up. My bottom burned, the tightness of the sheer silk accentuating the feeling.

He stood, his erection standing proud. It was all I could do to stop myself dropping to my knees and taking it into my mouth, but I sensed he wasn't quite done with me yet. He had that look in his eye. I was right. He led me across to the bed, positioned me at the foot of the mattress. I felt his fingers hooking the sides of my knickers, easing them down. Then his hand on my back, bending me forward. The mattress was so high the tips of my toes only just touched the floor. I started to open my legs, expecting to feel his hardness sliding into my aching pussy, but he pushed them together.

'Not quite yet. Let's see how this feels.' I cried out at a sharp crack, as a wave of pain broke across my stinging bottom. I leapt to my feet, hands clasped to both cheeks, to see one of the dark red leather mules held high. By the look of it, at least a size 10. Big enough to deliver a good whack, as I'd just discovered.

'Hmm. Not bad. Now bend over. Six of the very best I think. That was one. And no more jumping up, or I'll have to start again.'

Tears glistening in the corners of my eyes, I bent over the bed.

Crack! The leather seared a path of white pain across my backside. I gritted my teeth. This was going to hurt.

Crack! My hands clutched the bedspread as the wide leather sole whipped across my backside.

Crack! 'Aaaah!' Half cry, half moan of pleasure. I was aware of nothing now but the heat, and the pain, and the pressure that was building inside me, deep in my loins.

Crack! The hardest yet, full across both cheeks, made me arch my back, hips pressing against the edge of the mattress. I gulped in a lungful of air, held on to the bedspread to stop myself leaping to my feet.

Crack! 'Oooooh. Aaah' Leather met skin for the final punishing blow and I was on my feet, hips gyrating, hands pressed to my burning cheeks as I tried vainly to quell the fire. I felt myself being turned round, and I was pushed backwards, on to the bed. A wince as my burning, smarting bottom made contact, then I was on my back, legs held upwards at the ankles and a wonderful, longed for feeling of Jeff's engorged cock easing past the lips of my pussy. He felt huge. He slid his length in easily, held it there for a heartbeat, then started moving smoothly, pulling out almost to the tip before filling me again. I lowered my legs, twined them round his waist. My arms outstretched, I clutched the bedspread. The combination of the pain as my stinging bottom moved against the bedspread and pleasure from his piston-like cock moving inside me was too much.

I moaned, a long, low moan. This was what I wanted, needed. The room, the bed, the hotel, everything else disappeared. Then my hips started to move of their own accord and I felt that familiar, deep churning.

'Going to come,' I gasped. His hands grabbed my hips, his movements quickened, thrusts shorter, as his cock started to thicken, swell inside me. Wave after wave of pleasure overwhelmed me as my orgasm tore into me. Jeff cried out, his muscles tensing, as he came, his cock filling me to the hilt, the warmth pumping into me.