Firmly attached to what I now knew to call the whipping frame, Jeff was a sight to behold. A padded cushion at waist height made his bum protrude invitingly, and with his legs separately attached to ankle restraints and his wrists to the leather cuffs above his head, he was helpless and stretched tight. Then I discovered the remote control. A series of little pictures told me what each button was for. I moved his feet apart and closed them back together, and I bent him forward at the waist. There were others, but I wanted to get on with the job in hand.

I had brought the birch from our room, and laid it horizontally across his backside.

'While you were out with mummy I was having a masterclass in this,' I said. 'Turns out I was using it all wrong yesterday.'

He looked over his shoulder, a worried expression on his face. 'Not sure I'm too keen on the birch after all, Laura. It really hurt last time.'

'Nonsense,' I said briskly. 'Are you a man or a mouse?' As I spoke I started the light, tingling caresses, carefully covering all of his bum. He moved his hips from side to side. I could see he was starting to get aroused.

'That's actually quite nice,' he said. Then: 'Aah!' A reaction to a quick, stinging blow. Then the birch rods whispered across his cheeks again, which were turning a fetching shade of pink.

He was moving his legs against the restraints, arms stretching against the wrist cuffs as he twisted his body.

'This is torture,' he gasped, as the birch swished across his backside in a series of lightly stinging, quick, short blows. 'Fantastic, wonderful torture. Ow!'

The birch rods bit into his backside as I delivered a hard blow without warning. Then back to swish, swish, swish, slightly harder than before, but still gentle. He was moving now, eyes closed, growing erection rubbing against the underside of the velvet cushion that pushed his bottom out so invitingly.

I realised I'd better get on with it if I didn't want a cleaning bill from the hotel. With my left hand I lowered the upper part of the whipping frame, stretching Jeff forwards. With my right I maintained the steady application of the birch. He was starting to moan. When he was stretched forwards I upped the strength of the blows. Swish! Swish! Swish! Swish! No more gentle teasing, these were full blooded, biting blows. I felt the blows as if they were mine. I felt that familiar heat, deep inside. Jeff was crying out with each blow, arms and legs straining against the restraints. After a dozen blows I dropped the birch, and thumbed the release button.

I slipped off my knickers as he sprang to his feet, hands clasped to his reddened cheeks, hips gyrating as he tried to quench the flame. All this gyrating was making his erection wave around alarmingly. I didn't want any harm to come to it, so with my left hand I pushed him back against the velvet cushion, wrapped my right hand around the shaft of his throbbing cock.

Quickly, and slightly awkwardly, I fed him in to my hot moistness. Our hips ground together. His hands clasped my arse as he pulled me tight to him. I gripped his shaft with the muscles of my pussy, then relaxed, pulled back. His nails dug into my backside as he pulled me towards him. My hips strained, grinding against his, and I felt myself being lifted bodily, impaled. I wrapped my legs round his waist, his cock filling me.

I was aware of moving backwards, then I was on my back, pressed into the couch as Jeff raised himself on his arms and held the position. I felt his cock throb, almost as if I could feel the blood coursing through it. Then he started to move. Slowly at first, then gathering speed, smoothly and purposefully, until I was oblivious to everythng but his piston-like hardness filling me to the hilt. I reacted as best I could with my own pelvic upthrusts. I arched my back as I felt that familiar churning, called out as my orgasm tore through me like a dam busrting. I was dimly aware of a single, deep thrust as Jeff came deep inside me.  

We lay limp, motionless, spent. Jeff moved his hips, slid out of me, stood. He massaged his backside, which was very red. I could imagine how it must have smarted. I felt slightly jealous.

He pulled me to my feet, held me close. We kissed, a long lingering kiss. He stepped back, his hands at my waist, gave me a serious look.

'Just who gave you that masterclass?' he asked. 'I sincerely hope it wasn't that waiter.'

He was trying to look so stern that I couldn't quite stifle a giggle. That did it. He grabbed my arm, pulled me over to the whipping frame. Before I knew it my ankles were being fastened into the leather cuffs. My left arm, then my right, were stretched and clamped tight. I tingled with anticipation. I felt the vibration of the electric motor in my hips as my torso was raised until I was standing upright, arms raised high, legs apart. I looked over my shoulder as Jeff opened up the cupboard.

'Well, well. Just look at this.' He held up the flogger I had used on Rayanne just a few hours ago. 'This doesn't really fit here, does it?'

He dropped it, unhooked an old fashioned, thin cane. He clearly enjoyed the noise it made as he whipped the air. The muscles in my bottom tensed. My backside was still sore from the birch rods. I wasn't sure how much of a caning I could take. Mentally, I told myself off. I asked myself the same question I'd asked Jeff, and vowed to take whatever was coming my way.

The length of cane lay flat against the high points of my cheeks. Jeff saw the slight flinch.

'You're already pretty red,' he said. 'But that's got nothing to do with me. And knowing you as I do, you wouldn't want me to go easy on you. And I remember what you said to me just now. So...'

The cane left my bottom, to return with a swoosh and a crack! A path of fire across both cheeks. My breath left my body. Another swoosh and crack, on the same spot. I gulped a lungful of air, to expel it in a cry as the length of the cane bit into me again. I felt as if it was cutting me in two.

The cane fell, again and again, swoosh/crack, swoosh/crack.

I managed to turn my head. 'Enough. Fuck me. Now.'

Jeff dropped the cane as it it was red hot, which it might well have been, and pressed a button on the remote. I heard a motor hum and felt myself bending forward at the waist. The next sensation was the one I craved. Jeff's cock parting the lips of my pussy and sliding in smoothly, so easily, until I was filled. He slid out again. I pushed my hips back as far as I could. His hands gripped me as he slid back in, held himself there, rigid, unmoving. I felt the throb as he waited.

I moaned, moved my hips. He started to move. Short, sharp thrusts, his groin slapping against my stinging bottom. The sensation made me writhe as the mixture of extreme pleasure and pain built inside me. My legs started to tingle as that familiar slow, sweet churning stole up on me. My orgasm built and built, creeping and expanding inside until I could bear no more.

'Coming, I'm coming.' It came out as a gasp.

Jeff grabbed my hips hard, slammed into me, filling me, as he pumped into me.

We decided to have room service that night. Not just because neither one of us could face the hard chairs of the restaurant; we felt the need for privacy. It probably won't be news to you, gentle reader, that a sore bottom makes me very horny. That day I had woken to the kiss of a leather paddle, and I had been very soundly birched, then caned. My backside was deliciously sore, and every time I moved I was aware of it. So we made love between courses, and during the dessert course, which turned out very messy indeed. Afterwards we did it properly, made it last, until, exhausted, sore, and utterly fucked, we slept like babies in each other's arms.

We just made breakfast the next morning. Partly my fault; I wanted to look my best, give the staff - one in particular - something to remember me by. So only the shortest, tightest skirt and the sheerest top would do. I knew it looked good on me by Jeff's reaction. If I hadn't insisted and fought off his amorous intentions we would have missed breakfast entirely. And our check out. 

I particularly like the short, tight skirt I was wearing because of its effect on a well punished arse. It keeps the sensation going. So I sat down carefully on the usual hard chair. I was glad to see Rayanne in the restaurant; she gave us both a wide smile and her lingering glance made me glad I'd made an effort. 

'So sorry you're leaving us today,' she said. 'I hope this will be the first of many visits.'

'It's been a fantastic experience, Rayanne,' I said. 'But we'll need to save up for quite a while before we can come back. Or one of us will need to get a new job.'

She looked genuinely sad when I said that, and was quiet for the rest of the meal. I watched her trim form as she weaved between the tables and felt a pang of disappointment too. I would have loved to have spent more time with her, exploring our mutual passions. Amongst other things.

Back in our room, we packed in silence. When I zipped the case shut I turned to Jeff. 'I wish we could afford a visit here sometime soon. Maybe if you got a promotion?' 

Jeff snorted. 'Fat chance. You're in a better position than me. Maybe we should sell the house and move in permanently. If we get top dollar we could last six months before we're homeless. Might be worth it though.'

Rayanne was at the reception desk. She had, I thought, a glint in her eye. 

'We've so enjoyed having you this weekend. I wonder, could you step into the office?' The invitation was given in a low voice, clearly meant for my ears only, so I turned to Jeff. 'Shit, I think I left my hairbrush in the room. The bathroom, or maybe by the bed. Could you please nip back and check?' Off he went, grumbling about forgetful females. Rayanne smiled and ushered me into a tiny office by the desk.

'I wanted to give you this.' She held out a thin package. 'A small memento. A full record of your stay. All of your activities.' She put added emphasis on 'your'. 'But I really wanted to ask you something.' She looked uncharacteristically nervous. 'I understand about the cost of staying here. We do have offers, occasionally, for some selected guests, which I will ensure are emailed to you.' I started to speak, but she held up a hand. 'But I would be very happy to welcome you,' again, with added emphasis, 'as my guest on my time off. You know I have Saturday mornings to myself.' She paused, took a breath, looked me in the eye. 'Of course, I have no idea what you normally do on a Saturday morning. Please don't feel obliged to say anything. I've never approached a guest in this way before. It's really not what would be called professional behaviour.'

I let the silence build for as long as I dared, which was about a second and a half. I smiled, and just managed to stop myself snogging her face off there and then.

'Saturday morning is one of my gym times. Jeff has rugby practice then. I'll bring my bikini.' 

In the car on the way home I unwrapped our present. It was a DVD, with a picture of the room we had stayed in. With us in it. On the bed. Jeff was tied down, and I looked to be enjoying myself enormously. I popped the case open. A little card which had been placed on top of the DVD fell out. It had a single name on it, and a phone number. 

'What's that?' asked Jeff. 

'Just a little memento of our stay. We'll watch it tonight.' I tucked the little card into my purse, holding on to it, letting the possibilities sink in. Things were going to get very interesting. I felt a stirring in my loins. 'Or maybe we should watch it as soon as we get home.'