The young woman at the desk looked up and smiled as I made my way to the bar to wait for Rayanne. I had been coming to the Rouge on Saturday mornings for six weeks and had a surprise in my shoulder bag along with my swim gear. But then she held up a hand. 'One moment, please, madame.' She crossed the reception area to meet me.

'Miss Rayanne asked me to show you to the private elevator, madame.' Surprised, I followed her to the last in a bank of three elevator doors, almost hidden in the semi-darkness. She pressed the button, and the doors opened to reveal a small, wood-paneled lift. Inside there were three buttons. The young woman pressed the top one, and withdrew, leaving me alone. The doors slid closed on her enigmatic smile, and the lift rose. A light ping and the doors opened on to a carpeted lobby. Three recessed lights illuminated a path to a partly open door. Intrigued, I pushed it open and stepped into a large square room, luxuriously furnished with long, low leather couches, a television screen so large it looked more like a cinema, and a selection of small tables. Inclining on one of the couches was Rayanne, a glass of something long and cool in her hand. Through a door to the left, I could see deep carpet and the corner of a bed; a door to the right showed a glimpse of a dining table. But I barely noticed any of this; one wall of the room was entirely glazed, and beyond it was London. The river, the eye, the houses of parliament. The Shard glittered in the spring sun. The view was to die for.

I managed to close my mouth. 'Impressive, isn't it?' Rayanne took my bag, placed it on the couch, led me to the window, and slid it open. We stepped out on to a balcony, and the noise of the city rose to greet us. I looked around. The view went on, and on. The city stretched before us in all its glory and chaos. The balcony was furnished with low chairs and a glass table. It was utterly, totally private.

I looked at Rayanne. 'I don't understand. This view, that flat. It must be worth a fortune. How are you allowed to use it? Is the owner away? I presume it belongs to the owner of the hotel?'

She took a breath, looked me in the eye. 'It does belong to the owner, And no, the owner isn't away. She's right here.'

It took me a minute, but I got there. 'You mean you own the hotel? I don't believe it! All this time and you didn't tell me? Why?' My voice cracked a little. I was hurt, and I was surprised at how angry I felt.

Rayanne took my hands in hers. 'I wanted to tell you that first time but didn't want to take a chance on it spoiling what we had. We've got to know each other over the weeks you've been coming here. Our relationship, our friendship,' she hesitated, 'our love is strong enough now. I know you want me for myself, not as a rich woman. Can you forgive me?' She looked suitably contrite, and not a little nervous. I looked away, towards the houses of parliament, and considered.

The news wouldn't change the way I felt. She had used the L word. She was rich. This wasn't so bad. Now to have some fun. I turned back to face her. 'I need something from my bag. Stay there.' My voice was curt; I sounded angry. Three paces took me back to the room. I picked up my bag, carried it out to the balcony. Rayanne hadn't moved. I didn't smile. I dumped the bag on the glass table, pulled back the zip, turned round to face her. She was wearing a sheer silk robe, with a single tie at the waist. 'Take that off.' She pulled the tie, slid the robe off her shoulders. She was wearing a new version of her signature look: sheer silk stockings, red silk knickers a black basque that made the most of her charms.

My right hand was rummaging through my bag. I pulled out my surprise. Rayanne's eyes widened at the sight of the size of the slipper. 'Is that..?'

'Old Faithful. It packs quite a sting. As you're just about to find out.'

I sat at one of the chairs, back straight, legs together. I waited. Rayanne swallowed but wasted no time in lowering herself across my lap. I moved her so that her silk-clad bottom was presented to its full advantage. 'You've lied to me. You didn't trust me. I take that seriously.' My voice was harsh, and I could feel her body tremble slightly. She knew what I was capable of when I was annoyed.

I waited, letting the tension mount. I let the smooth, heavy leather of the slipper rest on the taut, stretched silk. I tapped both globes of her bottom lightly. The sole covered the fullness of her rounded backside. The muscles in her legs, straining against the floor, jumped slightly.

'So this will be a full punishment. No half measures. Ready?'

Her head, which was about the level of my ankles, nodded.

I tapped these rounded globes again, then lifted the slipper high.

Whack! The leather cracked against her bottom with a sound like a rifle shot. Rayanne's head jerked up, her teeth clenched. I raised the slipper again.

Crack!

The thick, smooth leather rose and fell, left cheek, right cheek, full across both, in a regular pattern. Rayanne kicked her legs, writhed and squirmed on my lap, but apart from the occasional grunt didn't emit a sound.

Crack! Crack! The hardest yet. She was gasping, breathing hard, eyes open wide. The power of holding that beautiful body across my lap as I tanned her backside was intoxicating. She was helpless. Completely in my power. The smooth muscles of her hips, her thighs, her stomach tensed and moved as she bucked and squirmed on my lap. I concentrated on that triangle of taut silk. The heavy slipper rose again, the blows falling thick and fast, turning the visible parts of her bottom a similar shade to her red knickers. At the final full-blooded blow full across her backside she leapt to her feet, and, hands clasped to her burning rear, rushed inside the flat. I followed, and she slid the window shut.

The noise of the city disappeared. 'OW ow ow ooooh ahhh!' she was doing a little dance around the room, fanning her backside. 'Jesus Laura. Why did you do that out there?'

I stood, arms crossed, holding the slipper. 'Nobody could see us. I checked.'

She was holding both hands to her bottom, wonderfully gyrating her hips. 'But they could HEAR us you, idiot! The hotel windows are just underneath us. The whole place will know what's been going on. But at least they won't know who was on the end of that leathering. It was agony keeping quiet. That slipper is an absolute beast. But I - or my ass anyway - need a break. Am I forgiven? Please say yes, I don't want to go through that again. Not for a while anyway.'

I smiled. 'You were forgiven the moment you told me. I just couldn't let that opportunity go by. Can I have a drink?'

Rayanne was peeling back her silk panties, looking at her reddened bottom in a mirror. 'Help yourself.' She gestured towards a cabinet against the far wall. Inside, between a tangle of leather belts, floggers and paddles, and the occasional cane, nestled a few bottles. I chose something suitable, found a glass and sank into cream leather. I watched as Rayanne lowered herself, wincing as her punished backside made contact. She wriggled her hips, settled back. 'Let me see that slipper.'

I handed it to her, and she hefted it in her hand. 'A beast. An absolute beast.'

'It's Jeff's. It belonged to his dad. It's our absolute favourite toy. I'm glad I finally got to share it with you.' Rayanne shifted in her seat, possibly not sharing my enthusiasm just at the moment.

'Now my dad, he had huge feet. Size fourteen. I never knew him, he left when I was three, just after my brother was born. Never found out what happened, but every trace of him was chucked. Apart from an old leather slipper, yes, size fourteen. My mother brought us up on her own. Not an easy job, particularly as we - my brother and I - were a bit wild. We regularly went across her knee for a spanking; it was a weekly occurrence for me. But as soon as I reached my teenage years, out came dad's old slipper. It was, literally, my thirteenth birthday when I first tasted it. I was good for months. Couldn't believe that anything could hurt that much. But as time went by, I got used to it. When I was sixteen, I went through a really wild phase at school. Our teacher used to cane two of my friends and me regularly. On the backside, knickers on, never on bare skin. And when we got caned, we had to take a piece of paper home. A punishment slip. It told what we'd done and how many strokes of the cane we'd had as a consequence. Naturally, my mother wasn't to be left behind. I got a slippering every time, knickers off. Usually the same number of strokes, but occasionally, depending on the crime, double. Once, it was three times as many. And it wasn't across her knee, not that time. I was bent over the kitchen table. Ate my tea standing up that night.' I paused, remembering. I could feel gathering dampness between my legs. Rayanne's lips were open slightly, and her eyes were fixed on me. I cleared my throat.

'By this time, I was starting to like it. I hurried home when I had a punishment slip. And afterwards, I fled to my room, locked the door, threw myself on my bed and gave myself to onanism. And then, when I was seventeen, my little brother brought a punishment slip home. My mother had just given my backside a real leathering, twice the number of strokes I'd had at school; twenty really hard ones. My ass was on fire. I was in my room, had just come when I heard my name called. I jumped to my feet, ran down the stairs. I hoped it wasn't another slippering, which had happened before when my mother had re-read the punishment slip and decided that my punishment hadn't been enough. But my brother was standing there, looking shamefaced. She told me he'd been caned at school, by the head, for giving him cheek. And then she told me that her arm was tired from my slippering and that she wanted me to take care of my brother! As you can imagine, I wasn't slow to accept. I read the slip - he'd had a dozen strokes - and told him to bend over the arm of the couch.

I can still remember the feel of the slipper in my hand, the weight of it as I swung it. And the noise when it connected! My brother howled with each whack. He swore afterwards it was harder than mum's. My mother gave me a tiny, complicit smile as I handed the slipper to her. 'Why don't you put it back yourself?' She said. So I took it back to the kitchen, hung it on the back of the cupboard door. When I did that, something changed. I still got the slipper regularly, but now handed it out too. And I loved it.'

All through the story, Rayanne had listened without a sound. Now she moved towards me. 'That's the sexiest story I've ever heard. Now you lie back.' She rose, kneeled on the couch, and pushed me gently backwards. Her lips found mine and things developed.

Later, much later, I started to pull my clothes on. Rayanne paid a hand on my arm. 'Don't. I love you the way you are. And we're alone here. We won't be disturbed. Besides, my backside stings like hell. You've got off lightly so far.' She walked to the cabinet. 'Every so often I get some new toys from a supplier, on approval, as it were. If it's good enough, it goes into one of the rooms. So far I've only had the staff to try these out on.' She smiled, withdrew a long, thick, double strip of leather with a red handle. 'But now I've got you.'

I looked at the paddle with interest. 'So I'm to be a guinea pig?'

'Think of it more as quality control. Let's go next door.' She led the way to the bedroom.

'Over the end of the bed, I think.' She waited as I lowered myself, mind on the sound slippering I'd just delivered. I was wearing stockings, nothing else. I had a feeling this was going to hurt.

The leather paddle felt huge when Rayanne rested it across my bare backside. It felt cool but heavy.

'How does that feel? It looks good there. Almost a shame to use it.'

I felt the paddle lift, then gasped as it blazed a trail of pain across my bottom. It felt as if it covered every square inch. I took in a lungful of air, to let it out with a cry as the leather cracked against my backside again. The double weight of the leather strips made it extra loud, and the effect on my backside was incredible. The leather flashed across my burning cheeks as Rayanne got into her stride. Crack after crack as leather flayed the skin. My backside was on fire, my legs kicking wildly and I was crying out with each punishing stroke. And underneath the white heat of the pain that familiar feeling was building.

I stopped crying out and started to moan, moving my hips from side to side, legs working. Rayanne knew what that meant. The paddle dropped to the floor with a thud, and her hand caressed my burning skin. I felt a cooling lotion being applied. Then a new sound, like a buckle being fastened, and  

My legs were gently pushed apart. Rayanne's hand was on my back, or I would have jumped to my feet when I felt a warm, hard something at the gates of heaven. I made a slight grunt as the dildo - it couldn't be anything else - slid home. It filled me, made me moan with pleasure. Then I felt it sliding out, and heard a slight click.

When it slid back in it was throbbing, and twisting, slightly. It was almost too much. Rayanne moved it expertly. Soon it was moving smoothly, purposefully, in, out almost to the tip, and in again. I felt something else: Rayanne's hips met mine when it was pushed home, filling me. She held it in place until I was about to come, then withdrew, to slide back in and out is short, staccato thrusts. She must have turned it up a notch; now it was rippling and twisting, turning my insides to jelly. I felt Rayanne's hands on my hips. As she pulled out her right hand left me, to deliver a stinging blow. I gasped. Her hips slammed into my bottom as I was filled again. 'Come for me, Come.' She needed to say no more. My legs rigid, hands clenching the bedsheets, I cried out my pleasure as my orgasm tore into me. I heard Rayanne cry out, dimly registered it as I slumped, drained, on to the bed.

I was aware of the dildo sliding out. I twisted, looked round. It was huge and fastened to Rayanne's slender waist by thin straps. It seemed to come straight out of her pussy. Then she withdrew the other end. The reason for her own orgasm became clear. 'What a clever machine,' I croaked. 'I approve.' I stood, stiffly, and surveyed my reddened backside in the mirror. 'The paddle too. It should be placed in room two without delay.' I said no more because Rayanne's mouth was on mine. We fell on to the bed, and languorously, slowly, entwined ourselves together. We didn't need to hurry. We had all the time in the world.