I was nineteen and worked for an electronics and electronic warfare company in test and development as a senior technician. Uni was not for me. At the local technical college, I got an HNC in electronics and carried on with an Open University degree whilst working and earning money. Working damn hard affected my outlook, I hoped, in a good way.

My older brother had taken a similar route and was approaching the end of his complicated electric vehicle training with a major car manufacturer. He worked for them as a repairer of these and all vehicles at their main garages in town. He had access to their garage facilities at the weekend, and we bought bargain cars online or from the dealer who took them in part exchange against a new vehicle. We helped each other fix them and sell them for a profit or kept the best for ourselves. We were the envy of the local lads with our upmarket cars, which helped us pull the girls.

There was a local girl who was a petrolhead but hung around in the wrong crowd. We got on, I suspected, because she liked to be seen in my sports saloon. She was very sexy and a nice girl. I would love to have given her one, but her lack of discipline in her personal life made me limit contact with her because I feared the loss of my security clearance at work, which bothered me.

Her mother, Sheila, who had lost her husband in an accident, was worried about Aretha, now seventeen, and saw me as a good choice of boyfriend, so I thought. She was a senior nurse in the local hospital. The pleasant lady saw me on the high street one Saturday and invited me for a coffee.

She told me that the following Friday, the ‘grapevine’ advised her that there would be a ‘house party’ for local teens while the parents were away the following Friday evening, and Aretha was going to it. She was worried that it was going to be ‘the wrong crowd’ and that drugs would feature. Could I think of a way to distract her daughter, please?

The same evening, the launch of a new top-end electric sports coupe by my brother’s company would take place with celebrities, champagne, the whole bit. He gave me two tickets to attend, so I asked Aretha to come with me. I found her at one of the ‘dive’ coffee bars where the ‘Low Tide’ creatures hung out. Out of earshot of Low Tide, my hyped-up line about the sports coupe launch impressed Aretha, who accepted.

On Friday, I collected Aretha, who had dressed up to the nines and looked way older than seventeen. Her pupils were normal size, so I thought she wasn’t under the influence of illegal substances, and she didn’t smell of drink. Aretha behaved perfectly at the launch and attracted much attention, which she loved.

Afterward, we had a drink at an old-world local pub, and then I parked up on the heath, where in the car, we had a lovely kiss, cuddle, and petting session. I took her home close to midnight.

Her mother was at the door looking so worried. “Thank God you are back, Aretha. There was a fight at the party. Someone stabbed a boy to death and your friend Susan is in a critical state at the hospital with stab wounds.”

“Mum, who did they kill?”

“It’s a boy called Joe.”

Aretha burst into tears. Her mother could see I had brought her home in one piece and said, “Thank you for looking after her, Peter.”

“No problem. Aretha, you need to be with your mother. I will be in touch tomorrow evening, if you like.”

Aretha sobbed, but replied, “OK, please, tomorrow evening.”

I went to see her at seven pm and she was there, looking very shocked and upset.

“We can get away for a chat about it. There is no sense in sitting here feeling miserable.”

I drove to the heath where we had been the previous evening.

“So, what do you know about it?”

“It was about drug money. The other gang said Joe had got some drugs from them and not paid. The gang knew about the party, came looking for him, and attacked him with knives. They stabbed Joe and wounded Susan when she tried to stop them.”

“The police have been interviewing them all day and my friends have sent me social media messages. I wasn’t there, but the police wanted to talk to me too. Mum is going out of her mind.”

“Did Joe ever buy drugs for you?”

“No, he never did, although I’ve smoked a few joints he gave me in the past. I can’t believe I will never see him again. I have to get away from this before it gets to me. Susan is a great friend, too.”

“Aretha, you must get away from it if you want to keep seeing me. I’ve never told you this before, but because of my work, I have a security clearance and I am jeopardising it if I associate with known drug users. Stop hanging around with that dead-end crowd or I have to quit seeing you. If you keep seeing them, it’s the end of our relationship.”

Aretha burst into tears.

“There are other problems in my life. I did badly at college at the end of term exams and they have warned me to sort myself out. My mother knows about it because they wrote to her. She thinks I am out of control and does not know what to do with me.”

“Alright, I understand. But you, Aretha, have to assure me you want to change your ways. I need to see that you are genuine about it, and then we can take things a step further.”

“What should I do to make it clear to you, please, Peter?”

“You are about to start the college break for the summer. Have you got a summer job?”

“No.”

“Get one. It will keep you out of mischief. Let’s get in the back of the car.”

I got in the back seat through the offside door and Aretha got in on the other side.

“Why are we doing this?”

“We are doing this because I’m going to spank your bottom.”

Aretha looked shocked!

“Young lady, you are a disgrace. You hang around with those dregs, you smoke drugs, and you are driving your mother out of her mind. A sore bottom is what you need.”

I grabbed her shoulders, got her across my lap and pulled down her shorts, but left her panties on. I gave her about twenty hard slaps across her pert bottom. It wouldn’t kill her,

She yelled and howled until I stopped and lay there crying. She didn’t get up, to my surprise. Soon, her cries ceased, and she rubbed her bottom.

“Peter, I’m sorry. I needed it. I know I’ve been a bad girl and need to pay for it.”

“Aretha, It’s your first lesson. Tomorrow morning, I want you to walk around town and look at job adverts in shops, cafes, and restaurant windows. There are plenty of jobs around, and I want you to get one. Never mind what your scumbag friends think.”

“One last warning. If I see you again with the Low Tide mob, I’m off and you can sort yourself out. The world is full of young women, and I don’t want to be landed with a real dumb-ass one.”

Aretha burst into tears. I don’t think she had been expecting anything like this.

“Put me over your lap again and give me another spanking. I need it. The first one woke me up. If you give me another, I will be sore in bed tonight and it will give me something to think about.”

I kissed her for the first time, took her head in my hands, looked her in the eyes, and said, “I believe you. It won’t do you any harm because you understand why you are getting it. If you follow the path I will set out for you, we can stay together, but if not, you are on your own.”

Aretha, to my surprise, pulled down her panties. She didn’t say a word, so I gave her another bottom pounding. She yelped at each swat, but stayed in place. I counted to twenty-four swats then stopped, and she lay there sobbing her heart out. Perhaps she needed the release. Aretha reached down and pulled up her panties and her shorts. She got off my knee and sat beside me. She soon stopped crying, put her arm around me and I kissed her, longingly. I hoped this would work. There was a lovely girl underneath it all.

“Peter,” she began. “Joe’s death has upset me so much. He didn’t deserve that and Susan will carry the scars, although they say plastic surgery will reduce its appearance. All this because of drugs.”

“Exactly. Aretha, I’m serious. Get yourself a job as soon as possible, because it will keep you away from those bad influences. We can meet up again after a few days and you can tell me how you are doing. You have my mobile number if you need me, but I want you to have time to sort yourself out. I will take you home.”

The serious nature of my job brought it home to me that so many other young people were being harmed by bad influences, and I was no angel, but I had to pass a drug test at work every month, like it or not.

It was around ten pm when I dropped her home. As I left, I saw her mother’s car arriving from the other direction but I carried on my way.

It was the Thursday when Aretha called me.

She asked if we could drive to the lake, park and go for a walk on the lakeside footpath. It wasn’t far from there to the pub and the heath.

Aretha was quiet as we drove, but was relaxed and happier than she had been the previous Saturday.

On the way around the lake, she wanted to hold me as we walked.

“Peter, I started work at Popeye’s Cafe on Tuesday. It’s OK, it’s good there and I am getting on well. They want me to do five and a half days a week, but I get Sunday off.”

“That’s OK. It’s close to what I did on the petrol pumps a few years back.”

“Do you know what happened when I got home last Saturday? I was in the loo looking at my red and sore bottom when my mother arrived home. She heard me in the loo and I thought I should show her my red bottom. So I came out of the loo with my panties on. I drew the curtains, leaned over the arm of the couch and lowered my panties. Mum stared at my red bottom and said, ‘Did Peter do that?’”

“Yes, Mum.”

“Mother said, ‘Good. You deserve it. Stay there.’ She disappeared upstairs but came back holding a thin cane. ‘I’m going to give you six of the best. I should have done it years ago. Behave yourself and take it like a lady.’”

“I was so shocked, but I lay there over the arm of the couch and Mum gave me six stinging strokes of the cane on my bare bottom. I writhed about and yelled, but took them as well as I could, then rushed up to my bedroom and lay there crying, with my flaming bum in the air. Mother came up and comforted me, telling me I was her good girl and to be more careful with my life. She took me into the bathroom and bathed the marks with a warm flannel, and I felt better.”

“Peter, the caning took me by surprise. It was painful but I could handle it. I’m not sorry to be straightened out. Mother wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t need it. She was crying in her room afterward, so I went to her, and she said she felt awful about having to cane me, but it might be the only way she could save me. It pleased her you had spanked me, because I took it better than if she had caned me cold. I told her you spanked me first, and then I asked to be spanked again.”

“Mother stopped crying as I comforted her, and I went back to my room with unusually horny feelings, and I took care of myself. I’m going to need caning again, but not tonight. It’s too soon.”

This was a shock to me, but a welcome one. Aretha was turning her life around. A spanking of her golden bottie had worked wonders!

“Peter, I want you to see the marks. We can go home and do it there in comfort.”

I thought to myself, “I wonder if that is all we will ‘do’?”

“You don’t want a quick drink at the pub first?”

“No, thank you. Let’s go home. Peter, do you have contraceptives on you, please?”

“No, but I will stop by the garage and get some.”

Lucky boy, I thought! I’m sure the site of her bare bottom in comfortable surroundings would work for us.

We were back by eight pm, even with the stop at the garage for emergency supplies.

“In my bedroom.”

We went upstairs to her comfortable and girly bedroom. Aretha took herself off to shower. While she was away, I took a surreptitious look around. I found no trace of drugs, but to my surprise, a thin cane was lying on top of a chest of drawers. She came back with a bath towel around her. I took her in my arms and kissed her, exchanging tongues. A little leg curled around mine. Aretha lay on the bed, legs apart and knees up, looking at me. I was naughty and picked up the cane.

“What’s the cane doing here?”

“Mother said I must leave it in my room as a reminder of what will happen if I’m a bad girl in the future.”

I put it back.

“Let’s see your bottom.”

Aretha rolled over and there was her cute, perfect little bottom with six fading cane marks on it. The ridges had gone down and there were just the fading marks. I pressed on one.

“Can you feel it?”

“No, the sensation stopped yesterday.”

I lay beside her on the bed, kissed her, and gently touched her breasts. She drew in a breath and looked away briefly.

I rolled her over onto her back, kissed her clitoris, and licked her pussy. She arched her back.

“This is the first time I’ve had my clitoris kissed.”

She moaned and rubbed her breasts. I gently inserted a finger. There wasn’t much resistance, but I thought I should check.

“You are not a virgin, are you?”

“No, it was once only. He was so rough, and it put me off it for a long time. My Mother took samples and had them checked at the hospital. I wasn’t pregnant and had not picked up any diseases, but it frightened me.”

“Would you like it tonight, please?”

“Yes, but with protection. I’m not on the pill.”

I eased myself into her and took care not to thrust too hard. Aretha needed to enjoy it and have a wonderful memory of it forever. It wasn’t long before she had a tremendous orgasm which triggered my own. I stayed hard within her for as long as I could.

“I’m going to be sore after this. My pussy doesn’t get any exercise apart from my finger.”

“Would you like to go to a sex shop and see if there is anything you fancy?”

“Peter, you must be eighteen. If we look online, can you go for me, please? Those vaginal exercise balls look like a good idea.”

“What are they?”

I hadn’t heard of them. So we looked at a website and Aretha said, “Something like them. The hard plastic ones on the thread look the sort. You can sterilise them after use.”

“Leave it to me to visit the local sex shop. If they don’t have them, there is another shop in the next town, and in a different chain, that might, but I will try them first.”

“Aretha, your mother will be home soon. I need to go.”

She kissed me and said, “I have discussed you with Mother. She said if he comes round, behaves himself, and treats you well, you can let him stay the night. My estimation is he will behave well towards you and he’s a good friend to you. Look after him, please. That includes letting him give you a sore bottom if you need it.”

“You must be tired. Are you working tomorrow?”

“Yes, I’m on at ten am. We close for coffee etc at five pm and clean the place until six pm. Peter, I want to go to sleep in your arms.”

“Darling, why not? We should visit the shower first or we will smell!”

In the shower, I persuaded her to let me help her wash her pussy and ass! She was at first embarrassed, so I said, “I’ve looked at and kissed your parts, spanked your bottom, and we have had sex.”

She smiled, cast her eyes down, and said, “Silly me.”

For all the front of dressing up to look years older, there was quite an innocent young woman underneath it.

“Aretha, darling, I’m so happy that we can join our lives now that you are turning things around. We can have super times together.”

We were in bed and half asleep. In the hall, her mother came home and upstairs, and said, “Aretha, are you OK?”

“Yes, Mother, ‘we’ are fine.”

“Who are ‘we’, please?”

“Peter and I.”

A brief pause, “OK. Have a good night’s sleep.”

In the morning, Sheila cooked us breakfast. I had to go to work at eight-thirty. She was all smiles, and I was sure I was welcome.

Aretha sat there, quietly, looking longingly at me. It was adolescent love and wonderful to be part of it.

I said, “How about tomorrow night? Tonight, I am booked as part of a group for dinner with a business client. At midday, I will go home, and bring my smart gear to the office. It’s that sort of ‘do.’”

“Yes, seven tomorrow night?”

“Sure, I will be here. You have my mobile if you need me.”

The day progressed normally at work and I was on my way to the evening function. My mobile rang. It was Aretha.

“Are you OK?”

“Yes, I’m fine, but the police were waiting for me outside Popeye’s. They said, ‘Where can we talk to you? You are not under caution’”

“I said, at home, so they drove me home and came in. There was a WPC there, so it was OK. They wanted to know why I hadn’t been at the party, so I talked about the sports coupe launch function. I told them you had invited me and they nodded. Then they said, ‘We haven’t seen you going into (naming two Low Tide dive-type joints) for a week. Why is that?’ I told them that the killing and stabbing at the party had shocked me and that I regard you as a ‘steady.’”

“I told them that if you found I was mixing with those types, you would drop me, and I don’t want that. Also, I have woken up and want to get my life sorted, which is partly why I am working at Popeye’s. Peter told me he wanted me to get a job to keep me away from the former gang.”

“They said, ‘How did he get through to you? Was it only what he said?’”

“No,” I replied. “When he had given me his lecture and what followed, it hurt to sit down for a day or two. But I am not complaining?”

“Why not?” asked the WPC. “Because a few days later, Peter gave me the best orgasm I have ever had. His orgasmic power is worth it. We are working on teaching my pussy new tricks, too. But I know one thing. You don’t have good sex if you are high as a kite or drunk, for that matter. The WPC went pink.”

“So I said, is there anything else you want to know? They looked a little embarrassed and left.”

I laughed. How funny! I admired her spirit, even if it was, perhaps, a little ill-advised!

“Hang on until tomorrow night, and we can go over it. Just assure me, you are OK?”

“Yes, I’m fine and feel great that I have you to rely on.”

That was exactly what I wanted to hear. The evening function at the upmarket pub-restaurant went very well. I had left my car at home as it was a simple walk and thus no problem about having a few drinks.

On my way out, I bumped into a guy called Roger, who was a few years older than me. He had been at my school and was in the police.

“Do you fancy a beer?” he said

“Sure, why not? Haven’t seen you for a while.”

“No, we need to catch up.”

He got me a beer, and we went out into the beer garden, which had a few people at tables but was quieting towards the end of the evening.

He went over to a table in the corner. The other guests were far enough away that they would not overhear us if we were careful.

“How’s Aretha?” he said.

“She’s fine, and she told me you guys had visited her for a chat earlier this evening.”

“You seem to have got her away from the bad attitude gang. Well done.”

“Yes, if I hear she’s been back near them, it’s the end of our relationship. I spelt that out in the clear. She’s not in trouble, is she?”

“No, she has avoided it by not being at that party.”

“That was my doing at her mother’s request.”

“OK, she didn’t tell us that bit. We wondered why she wasn’t there and she told us about the sports coupe launch, etc. We knew she was there with you because we were watching it.”

“She may not have known why I asked her to come with me. It was between me and her mother, and Aretha wasn’t there when her mother made her pitch. I persuaded her since then to take a holiday job to get her away from the druggies.”

“OK, that connects all the dots. We are enormously worried about the local drugs problem, and in confidence, if you see or hear anything, please let us know.”

“Yes, I will. I don’t like it either and it needs to be stopped. Dead and stabbed teenagers. Unbelievable. I searched her bedroom and found no trace of drugs.”

“Naughty boy!”

I laughed. “In a little under two years, I should get my OU electronics and computing degree, which will help me no end at work. I want to run that place one day.”

“You are helping us in your way to solve this problem. You scratch our back, we will scratch yours.”

“Thank you. I will keep that in mind.”

We had one more beer, exchanged mobile numbers, agreed to communicate with one of the secure messaging platforms, and left.

The next evening, I went out with Aretha. She was a little subdued.

“Did you tell your mother what happened yesterday?”

“Yes, I did.”

“She wasn’t too happy, but I told her that the police calmed down when I talked about our relationship and how you were getting me away from the druggies. The police like you, I can tell. But the visit scared me.”

“Do you know what Mother said? If I have been naughty, or Mother thinks I have been naughty, one of us will tell you and you are to cane me, and Mother will inspect the marks. If she doesn’t think you did it hard enough, you have to do it again and harder. No pain, no gain, she said.”

“Have you been naughty?”

“No, apart from fantasising about you. Does having a great orgasm count as being naughty?”

“No! Let’s go home and drop off the car. We can walk to the disco-wine bar. It’s more fun for you than at the pub, as they are more our age group.”

Aretha looked wonderful. She had excellent dress sense and I think she had worked out that I liked a ‘sexy but demure’ appearance.

At the wine bar, we had a great time and went back to her place.

On the way back, I asked, “Please, if you are happy, may I stay the night with you?”

“I can’t imagine us doing anything else, can you?”

This time we showered together, and she shyly asked to wash my penis. I let her and she was thrilled!

The cane was still there. Aretha said, “We leave it until I deserve it and I don’t right now. Last Wednesday, I had a contraceptive implant. Mother agreed that you and I are ‘together,’ and sex should be as natural as possible. It takes a week to work, so we still need to take precautions.”

We had respectful and tender sex. As we lay there in post-coital bliss, I let my hand wander down to her mound and played with her clitoris and pussy.

The last few days of readjustment to a different way of life must have been tiring for her, because Aretha drifted into sleep before me. Before the stabbings, I had thought she was a hopeless case, although sexy and beautiful. I could not bear to see her with the druggy scrotes. The next day, I went to the sex shop and bought the plastic balls.

My car had a very upmarket dashcam made by my company for ‘undisclosed users.’ I thought it was the military or the police, possibly both. It had excellent low-light technology and would respond to user-trained voice commands. “Photo,” “Video,” “Stop.” We had examples of the development variety in our lab for testing. My dashcam had ‘leaked’ out of the lab and into my car. The firm encouraged us to check out discretely non-security embargoed items in real-time situations. I had my answer if they asked questions!

The next evening, I drove downtown and took a bunch of photos and videos in the dusk and then in the dark. I downloaded the results and was delighted with the camera’s performance in every aspect.

The local dealers worked, as a few of us ‘knew,’ out of a barbershop, which was a bunch of drug dealers hiding behind the ‘barber’ ID. One night at dusk, on the pavement outside, there were the so-called barbers, a ‘heavy’ and a few kids I recognised from the Low Tide dives. I called “Video” and drove steadily past. No one seemed to notice in the light traffic. Once well clear of them, I called “Stop.”

When downloaded, outside the shop, there was a mid-market SUV, which I had seen outside a local terraced house in the front garden parking. Later that night, I visited the place. There was the SUV and an upmarket Mercedes coupe with blacked-out windows, which I photographed. I would bet the boss was visiting the local man.

Two nights later, this time driving my brother’s car, but with my dashcam, I was by chance following the SUV. I hung back. Just under a local CCTV camera where its field of vision probably didn’t extend, the SUV stopped. I said, “Video.” An arm came out of the window of the SUV and a ‘passer-by’ took something out of the hand and put what looked like folded-up banknotes into it. The SUV drove off. At the first junction, I turned down a side road and went home. There was a perfect image of the SUV, its number plate, the exchange of goods and cash, etc. I downloaded it and other material onto a flash drive.

I messaged Roger. We met at the same place at nine-thirty. I had brought my laptop with me and I played the flash drive contents. Roger whistled.

“They should call you Poirot! Are you sure they didn’t spot you?”

I told him how I had gone about things and he said, “They probably haven’t tagged you yet. But keep it up and they will. You must stop now. Not a word to anyone about what you have been doing. If I was in court and the magistrates asked, or the judge asked, ‘anonymous information’ is the answer.”

The next Saturday, the police made a dawn raid and rousted three members of the Low Tide gang at dawn and the police searched their houses, much to the parent’s annoyance. They found drugs on all premises.

The police searched the SUV and the house of its owner, finding drugs in both. They turned over the barber’s premises and they found more drugs. There were five suspects detained, and they denied bail to two of them. Plainclothes guys sat in cars watching the dodgy cafes. I saw Aretha that evening. Her eyes were like saucers.

“They didn’t hassle you, did they?” I asked.

“The raids this morning. Who would have believed it? I’m so glad I’m not part of that crowd any longer. Social media is in meltdown.”

“They didn’t roust you this morning, did they?

“No, but they rousted several of my former associates, and they are still in custody. How did they find out who was doing what? I heard they did the barbershop guys, which is where much of the stuff came from.”

“I don’t know. The police must have done intelligence work.”

We went to the disco-wine bar.

There were two of the ‘druggy’ gang there, but well diluted in the sea of people. Aretha ignored them. They looked out of place and I thought, a little nervous. I followed one of them into the gents. It was time to sow some alarm and despondency.

“Did you hear about the dawn raids?”

“What do you know about it?” he said, looking alarmed.

“Only rumours, and they are all around town. But this could be just the beginning and there will be more arrests now that they have caught the dealers.”

He rushed out, grabbed his mate, and they left. It must have given him an awful fright to have a guy who they vaguely knew come up to him and announce his worst fears.

Aretha didn’t notice, and I didn’t tell her.

Three Mojitos were enough for Aretha and we got a taxi back to her place. Those drinks had a magic effect on her. We showered together, and I had to support her in her mildly inebriated state. I helped her to dry and to get on the bed with two pillows under her tummy. She was squeaky clean, so I went down on her, licking her clitoris and labia. With her clitoris between my tongue and teeth, I gently nibbled it, which gave her something close to an electric shock!

She squealed and writhed about. I let it go but held it between my lips, sucking and licking it. I eventually stopped. Aretha was panting for breath and I could see her clitoris and labia in orgasmic motion. As soon as she recovered, she rolled onto her back and demanded I get on board. I had a diamond-cutter erection. Ten days had gone by since her implant, so no need for precautions. We rolled over and Aretha sat on me, cowgirl style. Within seconds, she had another tremendous orgasm, and that triggered me off again.

She said, “I want to get on my back.” She hung on like a limpet and I could feel the involuntary muscles in her vagina going into spasm and she dug her fingernails into my back. I remained hard inside her for as long as I could. I smothered her in kisses and she was oozing small tears of joy. Aretha was in seventh heaven.

“Peter, what did we do? Those Mojitos must have a stimulant in them.”

“Yes, it’s called sugar. They have loads of sugar in them and we have been burning it up.”

“All week I have been a good girl, so I don’t need the cane.”

“That’s fine. It’s for naughty girls only, or if you request it.”

“It’s Sunday tomorrow. We don’t have to get up early.”

“Great. Please, can we map out your erogenous zones?”

Aretha smiled, “I like to do that too. Start with my parts, so I need to shower quickly after what we have been doing.”

We shared a shower because I wanted to be clean for her. It’s only fair.

She lay on the bed, legs apart, and pulled back the hood of her clitoris.

“Did you know that the really sensitive part lies under the hood?”

“No, let me see.”

There was this little thing that looked like a pink peanut.

“That’s my little sister and you are very good with her, but it will be better still if you can roll the hood back before you lick me. When you do, be very gentle because my little sister is so sensitive. I found out about the G-spot. Watch where and how I put my finger.”

I watched, and I could estimate where it was inside her vagina.

Aretha said, “You try it.”

So I did, and I could see the terrific effect it had on her!

Aretha showed me the most and least sensitive areas of her vagina and labia. It was wonderful for a girl to show these to me, and it would help me increase her pleasure during intimate moments. She carried on talking about her areas of highest skin sensitivity, these being the inside of her upper thighs and the lower curves of her bottom, close to the crease.

“When Mother caned me, two of the strokes were close to the crease. They stung the worst of all, but afterward, sitting on them made me so horny. So you know where to aim when you cane me! Those druggies were only interested in themselves and more about their drug experiences and I can see they didn’t care about my feelings. They just wanted me to go along with the drugs thing and help them keep supplied. Any sexy talk was of the most vulgar type. You are so polite and never say a word out of place regarding sex.”

“Peter, meeting you has sorted out all of this in my head. Perhaps being away from smoking weed for over two weeks has cleared my mind, although I think my mum’s caning helped to beat it out of me!”

“Aretha, it’s a joy to me we are together. I could not bear to see you with that dreadful lot. You have improved my life, and I wonder how I managed without you. What did you mean about ‘help them keep supplied’?”

“They used me as bait. I was pretty, and that attracted the dealer and customers, although it was the money they were after, mainly.”

“Who were they? Do you ever see them around still?”

“One of them has this flash Mercedes coupe with blacked-out windows. He was called Andy. I haven’t seen it around for a few days. Thank God none of them have come to Popeye’s. What they do is to take one or two of the gang for a run in the car and do the deal there. They don’t do it in the open. I know, because once I was there when I saw it happen.”

It was time to change the subject before she worked out that I was ‘interrogating’ her.

“Did your Mum ever teach you about sex?”

Aretha cast her eyes down. “I’m afraid I was cheeky to her and told her she was out of practice. It upset her, but she stopped lecturing me. You need to cane me for it, because I feel so guilty about it. But she has been so good about you, the implant, and letting you stay the night. Mother said I am like a ship in a gale and Peter is your anchor. I am getting on with her so much better nowadays.”

She rolled over onto her tummy and put her fingers on the lower cheeks of her bottom.

“See where I put my fingers? That’s where I want you to cane me when the time comes.”

“We worry about that later. Perhaps we do it just before your next term starts. Is there any lovely thing I can do for you tonight?”

“Peter, we haven’t done it yet. Would you like me to give you a blowjob?”

“Have you done it before?”

“No, but I’ve seen how to do it on the internet.”

I stroked her cheek. “Please, don’t feel obligated. It’s so kind of you to offer. You are under no pressure to do it and I can wait. Be sure in your mind you are happy and ready to do it.”

Aretha looked away, put her hands to her face and cried. “You are a lovely man. I know I attract you, but you never take advantage of me.”

I hugged her. “Stop crying, darling. Be happy. We are together and you have sex and a sore bottom to look forward to.”

The sobs stopped

“Peter, I want to do it tonight. I had been planning to ask you.”

“I will get squeaky clean, and you can give me our first BJ!”

It went ahead. It’s amazing how the internet provides such good instruction.

Sunday morning, she went over her coursework with me. It was all in the world of the arts, which is the other side of the Moon to me! I helped her work out a plan for her, which took in future studies and an exam to re-sit in the autumn. Aretha said, “I will be fine. I can see how to deal with it. No one showed this sort of plan to me. Where did you get it?”

“I worked it out, but a lecturer advised me about looking at past exam papers, and you can get those in booklets from the local stationers in the ‘student’ section. We can see if they are in stock.”

“Yes, let’s go.”

Aretha had that lovely spontaneity that is so typical of adolescence. I had to kiss her. In the stationers, we found two out of the three sets of booklets Aretha needed. I bought her those and put the other set on order.

We spent the rest of Sunday together, in the afternoon, at a sports car gathering, which Aretha enjoyed. An older acquaintance took us around the track in a pre-war Alvis. I’m not sure which turned more heads – the Alvis or Aretha.

In bed, Aretha said, “I’m sore inside. Can you just play with my little sister? If you like, I can give you another BJ?”

“Manual stimulation would be fine, and I would love you to learn to do it if you don’t mind.”

I instructed her how to do it and she wondered how far it would squirt, so we laid out a bath towel, which was just as well, because it went about three feet in the air!

Aretha decided she would spend a few evenings a week studying and we could spend time together on the free evenings. We decided on every Wednesday, Friday and Saturday to meet up. I could always stop over. I was so pleased to see her get a grip on her life, and it gave us time to study.

On Monday, I had another meeting with Roger. He promised to increase patrolling around Popeye’s, which was easy, it being on a service road parallel to the main road. They programmed a CCTV camera aiming point as part of its sweep to make sure it got good coverage.

“Watch this space,” he said, “But in silence.”

I steadily introduced her to my small circle of friends, most of whom were in the electronics or aviation-related businesses. Most of them had girlfriends, partners or wives, and Aretha got on well with them. We were both at the younger end of the age spectrum of the informal group. I noticed her talking with a couple of girls who had excellent jobs. This only helped steady her outlook and increased her confidence. Without prompting, one of them said she had seen Aretha at Popeye’s, and it was a pleasant start to the world of work. The perfect thing to have said.

We began doing things together, such as going on a long walk at one of the seaside beauty spots or from the heath via the forest to the river and back. We hired a sailboat one Sunday and spent a few hours on the river, surrounded by ducks and swans. Despite her living in the area, I could show Aretha things she had never seen before. She blossomed.

The summer break was drawing to an end. By this time, I had introduced Aretha to my parents. My mother knew something about her background and was concerned about it. I thought the best thing was to leave them together for a little while. Mother loved her garden and asked Aretha if she could help, and she obliged. This went down well.

My brother and I lived in what was a granny extension at the back of the house, having our separate rooms, a shared bathroom, a kitchen and living area, and a separate entrance. The grandparents had died, and it was empty. The minor isolation from the rest of the house stopped late returns from evenings out upsetting my parents. Mother knew I spent nights away and had guessed it was with Aretha. So I asked if I could bring her back.

Mother looked at me and said, “It doesn’t look like she is on drugs and one of the other mothers said that she has changed for the better since she met you. This helped my friend get her daughter away from that druggy crowd, particularly after the murder. Aretha has become something of a role model for that group and you are getting the praise. She worked well in the garden. Please, is she on the pill?”

“No, she’s got an implant and we are together. Neither of us is seeing anyone else.”

“I don’t mind, and neither does your father. But no druggy friends to come, and if I hear anything that bothers me, I will withdraw permission. Your father and I want to meet her the first time she comes, so let us know when that will be.”

I met with Aretha the next day and gave her the news. “It’s not fair to your mother that I come here every time. My parents have permitted you to come back with me. The only drawback is that in the extension, it’s a shared bathroom and my brother is often there and with his girlfriend. I think you have met her? “

“Yes, she’s nice. We share our bathroom with my mother. It’s not a problem.”

“The first time you come, I will buy a bouquet for my mother and you give it to her. She will like that.”

“Yes, great idea. We got on fine working in the garden.”

So on a Saturday afternoon, we arrived with the bouquet. I saw Mother’s approving glance. Aretha had dressed modestly, which helped too. My Dad said later, “I’m envious. Keep her on the straight and narrow.”

“Yes, exactly. My approach is working.”

Aretha was a little surprised by my relatively spartan room. It was clean and comfortable but lacked bric-à-brac, with only pictures of cars, a huge framed poster of all the WW2 aircraft fitted with the Merlin engine, and a few electronic bits and pieces. It wasn’t girly!

She said, “It’s so ‘you.’ Not a lot showing in your life, apart from your car, but a lot hidden in the brain!”

It was lovely to be with her, but I preferred it at her place. I never bothered much about noise in her place, but it was different at home.

She was lying on the bed, one knee raised, in a classical ‘still life’ position.

“You are a natural beauty. I’m so lucky!”

“I’m the lucky one. You have saved me. I never thought your parents would accept me after what had happened in the town.”

“Mother says that you have become a role model for some girls in your age group and their mothers think the change is my doing. The mothers probably don’t know about your spankings and caning.”

“My mother told their mothers that you had spanked me and that she had caned me, so they know. They couldn’t believe it and said, ‘She seems so contented, and does not resent it?’ My friend Clara has got a sore bum from her mother. She was upset but has got over it. She told me about it quietly in Popeye’s, and has got away from the druggies too. The mothers think you are the original dark horse. I told Clara I am to ask you to cane me if I’ve been naughty, or my mother can ask you to do it, and I accept that. She was shocked!”

“I asked her, ‘How do you feel now?’ and she said it had stung, but later she felt horny. Clara wants a boyfriend she can trust to do it again.”

“Aretha, that’s the hard one. I don’t know where she will find one. It’s up to her.”

So the word was out! How these women talk!

We had showered already. She said, “Quietly tonight for our first time here. We mustn’t upset your parents.”

Aretha put her arms out to me, and we relaxed, kissing, cuddling, and caressing each other. I slid into her and we made unhurried love, taking our time over it. The intensity was there, but in a more measured fashion. We were growing up.

On Sunday, we woke early. Aretha looked at me and said, “We have one more week and college starts. During the week, or today, it’s time for a sore bottom, so I am not sitting on the worst of it by the following Monday.”

“You are so different since we got together and have done nothing to deserve a sore bottom.”

She took my hand and placed it on her mound. I gently extended a finger towards her clitoris.

“When my mother caned me, towards the end, my little sister was throbbing with each stroke, despite my feeling upset and a little scared. What will it be like if I’m relaxed and looking forward to it? The second spanking you gave me that night in the car turned me on, although it was hurting my bottom and I was crying at the end. I asked you to do it because I saw you loved me and hadn’t done it out of a violent impulse. You talked a lot of sense to me and treated me like an adult. That’s when I woke up to my future.”

“If I enjoyed sex with you, it would give me everything I needed and thank goodness it all works. You are a good person, settled inside yourself, and I hope, and now I’m sure, I add to your happiness because you deserve it for having saved me.”

“Aretha, I’ve never been so happy. It feels like a miracle that we turned things around. With your natural beauty and nowadays, with your decorum, its perfection. So you want it as stimulation and nothing else?”

“Yes, it hurt in the past, but the stimulation was enormous. If we go home this morning, you can do it as soon as we are there. I’ve got all day to recover before work tomorrow. There is a lot of sensation in the first twenty-four hours and reduces steadily after that. If we do it on Wednesday night, I will be very sore at work on Thursday. It won’t be so bad if we do it later this morning. I wonder what my little sister will want shortly after the caning.”

We had breakfast, and I took her home. Her mother was out shopping, so we went to Aretha’s room. We showered again.

“Do you want a warm-up hand spanking first, please?” I asked.

“No. Let’s try a cold caning, but start with moderate strokes.”

“Get on the bed on your knees, head down, bottom-up and out, and spread your knees apart. It will tighten the skin and give me a larger area to aim at.”

“What a lovely sight! Would you like attention to your little sister and G-spot first?”

“I shouldn’t, but go on, get me aroused, please.”

So I kissed and nibbled her little sister and fingered her G-spot.

After a few minutes of this and orgasms, Aretha said, “I’m ready.”

I took careful aim at her right cheek’s lower curve and whistle ‘crack,’ a moderate stroke fell on her lower right-hand bottom cheek, just above the crease.

Aretha gasped and wriggled, but took it well.

“You need to tell me anything that comes to your mind, such as ‘too hard, too light, aim higher up, kiss my little sister, whatever.’ How was that first one, please?”

“Lovely. It stung like hell, but you know who loves it!”

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

Whistle ‘crack,’ and another moderate stroke landed just below the first one and her response was similar. Thin red marks appeared. Aretha would find it difficult not to sit on them, which is precisely why I placed them where I did.

Whistle ‘crack,’ and a third stroke given with a little more force landed further down the lower curve, almost onto the upper thigh. This time, Aretha gave a little yelp!

“I will move to your lower left curves for the next three strokes.”

“Peter, I’m so horny. Lick my little sister, please!”

Her little sister was larger than normal and a deeper shade of pink. Three cane strokes had done that! Aretha had another enormous orgasm.

“I’m ready for the next three strokes, please.”

“Do you want them spaced out so you can recover, or fast and only a few seconds between them?”

“Same as before, please.”

“OK. Here comes stroke number four.”

Whistle ‘crack,’ and the first stroke on her left hand lower bottom cheek landed. It was just above the crease and was harder than the first three strokes.

Aretha yelped and wriggled about. I could see her vagina was in motion.

I waited until she calmed herself. It took a while.

Whistle ‘crack,’ and the second stroke on her left hand, lower bottom cheek landed. It was in the crease and had been a harder stroke.

She yelled out this time. It had got to her. Bravely, she did not ask for a reduction in force and had taken these two strokes on her left lower curves in silence, apart from the yelp and yelling.

“Aretha, you know stroke number six is always the hardest?”

She nodded.

I waited for her to calm herself and settle into position.

“The trouble and stress I have given Mother recently make me ask for this. This caning puts my awful behaviour in the past. Peter, please don’t hold back.”

After she settled, I took careful aim, and the cane made a louder whistling sound and cracked hard into her lower left curve just below the crease.

She yelled again, collapsed on the bed, and rubbed frantically at her bottom, but was not sobbing.

“I’m going to sit on the loo to see what it feels like on my freshly caned bottom. Please come and watch.”

She went naked to the bathroom and sat on the loo, wincing as she sat there.

“I will sit for five minutes and think about how lucky I am to be experiencing this pain, which is doing me so much good. Peter, those six strokes low down sting like hell, but they make me feel so horny.”

“Peter, I am so naughty. Please can you hand the shower head to me, turn on the water, and using the water flow setting, adjust the flow to a comfortable level, and then turn on the flow to the shower head?”

I handed her the shower head, and adjusted the temperature, finally turning on the water flow to the shower head.

Aretha was sitting on the loo, directing the shower head flow onto her clitoris and vulva, the naughty minx.

“My little sister is in turmoil, and this drives her over the top. It’s wonderful after a hard caning. Peter, give me an hour, please, then we go out. It’s another lovely day. Why don’t we go for a walk over the heath and into the woods? This may be one of the last warm days of the year.”

So around midday, we drove up to the heath. I noticed Aretha had a small haversack with her. She led me off the track and deep into the woods.

“Peter, I brought a rolled-up ground sheet with me. We could lay it out here, and, you know, do it in the open air.”

We were deep in the woods, so I said, “OK. Let’s lay it out in an area surrounded by ferns to give us more cover.”

So we found the right place, and lay on the groundsheet kissing and playing with each other for about ten minutes, while listening for the sound of other people. We were alone as far as I could tell. I was against the idea, but I could not deprive Aretha of her pleasure, or deny it to myself, even though there was a risk involved. The risk made it more fun!

Aretha had made a rapid recovery from her caning!

“How do you feel?”

“The pain has stopped and there is an enormous sensation. Please, can we do it in doggy fashion? It’s wonderful when you rub against the cane marks.”

I liked the idea because in the middle of sex; it gave me a better chance of keeping a lookout!

Aretha had gotten out of her shorts and panties. I dropped my trousers and pants and we went at it. The marks on the left cheek of her bottom were vivid and ridged. She jerked and moaned each time I rubbed against them, but had a tremendous orgasm with her vagina in spasm.

As we lay there recovering, I heard voices in the distance.

“Voices! Get your clothes on!” I whispered.

Fortunately, Aretha did as I asked.

“Keep down.”

I saw the upper part of the body of two people walking through the wood about forty yards away. They never spotted us.

When silence resumed, Aretha said, “Thank you so much. Doing it in the open was one of my fantasies, and you have made it come true. I loved the idea of someone seeing us!”

We rolled up the ground sheet, went back to her house, and shared a shower.

“Wash my marks for me.”

I ran warm water over them and cleaned them with a flannel. The left side marks were still warm to the touch, inflamed and ridged.

“The feelings are wonderful, and I’ve shown my Mother my respect for her in receiving those hard strokes, which aroused me so much.”

“Darling, I wonder how I got by without you. It’s been only a few weeks, and it feels like a new life.”

“I have to pinch myself to be sure it’s not a dream. I don’t need caning often, but I need the secret weapon regularly!”

A new life for Aretha and an improved life for me!