A few years ago, I was on a training course in Belgium. I was on this course because of box-ticking and ‘political correctness’ at work. The venue was owned by a religious establishment which wanted to make money, and their beliefs influenced the rules of the property.

These rules did not appear in the briefing literature during the course booking. This was not to my liking, nor the liking of one other delegate to the course.

This was a young Spanish lady several years younger than me. I guessed she was in her mid-twenties. After two evenings, Louisa and a few others escaped with me in my car to a local bar. The next day, I was having coffee on the veranda. I found a table where I could have another chat with her.

“This place is no fun for those who enjoy adult activities,” I said.

She gave me a lovely smile, and said, “Yes, it’s as bad as being at school.”

The weekend would arrive, and I had not decided what to do. I would not stay at the training centre.

“At the weekend I am planning to go to Utrecht,” I said to Louisa.

“Really?” she replied. “Isn’t that where they signed those treaties in the seventeenth century?”

“That’s right,” I said. “It’s one reason I want to pay it a visit.”

With a lovely smile, Louisa replied, “Jim, I’ve always wanted to visit it for the same reason.”

This opened the door for me. “There is a travel agent about three hundred metres down the road,” I said. “I can book somewhere to stay for Friday and Saturday nights. We could come back late on Sunday.”

Louisa looked around; saw no one was listening, and said, “Jim, we could always share.”

I gave her a lovely smile, and said, “Consider it done. There is a place close to Utrecht where there are cabins by a lake. It’s beautiful and peaceful. The cabins are very private. “

Louisa beamed again and responded, “That sounds wonderful.”

“We should not appear to be too happy for the rest of our week here and not appear to be together too much of the time. We don’t want them to think we’re going to enjoy ourselves, do we?” I replied.

She laughed. Later that day, I went to the travel agent and booked a cabin for Friday and Saturday nights at this little complex near Utrecht.

Lectures finished early on Friday afternoon and we slipped away discretely in the car. It took us about three hours to get to our destination.

It was a lovely evening. We went for a walk around the waterways and found a small bar. We had a snack and a drink, then went to the cabin as the sun went down. Here was a beautiful young lady with a healthy appetite for adult activities.

I said. “We have been in lectures or travelling all day. Let’s take a shower first.”

I had never seen a girl get out of her clothes so fast. I didn’t need to ask and Louisa was delighted to share a shower with me. She was not prudish and allowed me to be present when she took a pee. She was very hairy. My doctor once told me he thought small hairy women were the healthiest.

Louisa let me wash her parts and her bum in the shower. She reciprocated by washing my dick, the naughty girl.

I had not talked about ‘precautions’ in the car, but I thought I should do so before we got carried away.

“I’ve got condoms if you prefer me to use one,” I said, thinking that as she came from Spain, it might be unlikely she was on the pill.

Louisa replied, “Jim, please don’t worry. Even though I come from Spain, we can still get the pill if we go across the border into Portugal. I go there twice a year and get six months’ worth of the pill each trip. You don’t need to worry about HIV because I’m not promiscuous. Because of my job, I have to be tested every six months and I know I am negative.”

“It’s the same for me. My job requires me to get tested every year for HIV and the rest of those diseases,” I said. “If we are not drug users and we are hetero, there is not much risk.”

“That’s right,” replied Louisa. “The natural way is much nicer.”

By this time, we were in bed and having a lovely cuddle in each other’s arms. I kissed her on the lips and crept down her body. I was kissing and fondling her breasts. As I neared her pussy, Louisa understood what was coming and lay on her back, legs apart. I gave her oral attention, and she had her first orgasm of the evening.

“May I put a finger in your pussy, please?” I asked.

“Yes,” she replied, “But why do you want to do that?”

“Have you heard of the G spot?” I asked.

To my surprise, Louisa said, “No, I haven’t. What is it, please?”

I got up on one elbow, and with the other hand, gently stroked her face.

“About three or four centimetres inside the opening of your vagina on the front wall, that is the wall towards your tummy, is a place called the G spot,” I said. “Nobody quite knows what it is.”

“But most girls have one. Some in the medical profession think it’s a sensory organ. One view is that it’s like a clitoris inside your body and if you stimulate it, it’s very pleasurable. Would you like me to see if I can find yours, please?” I asked.

Louisa had the good grace to laugh.

“OK,” I said, “I’m going to wash my hands first because I think your pussy will be much cleaner than my fingers. I don’t want to put bacteria from my finger inside you, so I must clean myself first.”

Louisa looked surprised, and said, “That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s etiquette when playing with the G spot,” I said.

I got out of bed and washed my hands. Back in bed, I did not rush. I took Louisa in my arms and kissed her again. I went south and gave her more oral attention, but stopped short of giving her an orgasm. With the tip of the middle finger, I gently felt the opening of her vagina and it was dripping wet. Her secretions lubricated my finger, and I gently eased inside her.

Feeling for the G spot and then tapping it lightly with the tip of a finger is usually a good way to stimulate it.

There was no sign of distress or pain from her, as I gently tapped the anterior wall of her vagina. My efforts brought sighs of delight from Louisa. I added to her pleasure by licking her clitoris. Louisa loved this and arched her back, moaning in pleasure.

“This is the first time I have the feeling,” she said. “You are a naughty boy! I knew nothing about my G spot until tonight.”

This was the early days of the Internet, but I had read about it in one of the men’s sex magazines and it was fascinating. This was only the third time that I’d been able to check out what I had learned, and it seemed to be right.

After keeping this going for at least ten minutes, Louisa said, “Please, that’s enough. I have had four orgasms tonight. I only had two in an evening before today.”

Of course, I did as she requested and stopped. I had another quick wash of hands and face and got back into bed with her.

She said, “I’ve never done oral sex on a man.”

“Don’t worry,” I said, “It’s not obligatory.”

Louisa smiled and said, “But it’s your turn.”

“Please,” I replied, “Have a rest. You need to enjoy actual sex!”

She lowered her eyes and said, “I’m ready if you’re ready.”

“Please darling,” I said, “Play with my dick for a few seconds to make it rock hard, and then we do it.”

Her eyes met mine. A hand reached down, took hold of my dick, and played with it. If this had gone on for more than half a minute, I would have exploded. I got on my knees, gently removed her hand, and entered her. The muscles around her vagina were still in spasm. Louisa looked into my eyes again.

“You are only the third man who ever made love to me and your skills are the best yet,” she said.

“There will be no pleasure for me,” I replied, “Unless the lady loves it.”

We came in about two minutes. I tried my hardest to remain erect inside her as her pelvis was in wild motion. There were moans of pleasure, and she dug her fingernails into my back.

Eventually, I collapsed onto the bed. A hand came out and grabbed my dick, which soon responded to the gentle stroking action.

“Please,” said Louisa, “Play with my G spot again.”

“OK,” I replied, “But I must wash first.”

It must have made a huge impression on her if she wanted it a second time.

“It’s wonderful you take so much care of me,” replied Louisa. “I wish they were all like you.”

This time I went to the shower and washed my dick, pubic area and my hands. It’s only fair to keep yourself clean for a charming lady. Back in bed, I didn’t waste any time and went straight to work on her.

“Thank you for showing me this,” said Louisa. “I did not know. How is it that society leaves us in such ignorance?”

“It’s my pleasure,” I replied. “I’m so happy to see you enjoying what we do. It’s a big thing for me.”

After a while, Louisa was so exhausted by it she pulled herself away and said, “Enough, please stop before I faint with pleasure.”

She asked me, “Do you know why it feels like it does? There doesn’t feel like there is anything physical there when I try to touch it, maybe a slightly harder spot, that’s all.”

The article, I recall, did not describe the anatomy of the G spot with much certainty. As far as I could remember, the doctors or whoever wrote it thought it was a collection of nerves. These spread from other nerves that went to the genital area, the sphincter muscles etc., but there did not seem to be a definitive answer. There often seems to be a vacuum about some aspects of the physiology of sex. Putting this vague description into words wasn’t easy, and I don’t think I did a good job.

I said, “That’s as much as I know, but I have had practical experience and it counts for more than a thousand words. Just lie back and enjoy it. It seems to be good for you!”

Louisa’s uninhibited curiosity about her anatomy was heartening. Many girls would not talk about these things. An unexpected confirmation of my opinion suddenly occurred.

Louisa said, “What do you think about sex and spanking?”

This was a surprise. Spanking was very much in the shadows in those days. So I said, “I’ve had no experience of erotic spanking, although being British I know about disciplinary spankings. My age group suffered a lot from those. How do you know about it, please?”

She smiled and said, “In my city, there is a private Cinema Club and I’m a member. About a year ago, they showed two films which contained erotic spankings or whippings. There was an English movie called ‘Lady Libertine,’ and the French one was called the ‘Story of O.’”

“They had to be shown in private to paying members of the club. The censors would not allow them to be shown in public cinemas in Spain. The club organisers were worried enough to lock all the doors before they started the show.”

“The organiser said he was not sure if in Spain they were breaking the law or not. They did not advertise the titles of the movies, even to the club members. It just called the movies unusual and erotic. They did not put it into print, but word of mouth passed around the news, so I knew it was very unusual. So did most of the club members. The room was full.”

“‘Lady Libertine’, the English movie, showed disciplinary and erotic caning, or whipping. The ‘Story of O’ is a French movie. It showed erotic whipping with a riding crop. Caning in the English movie formed a bond between the girl and the aristocrat. At first, the aristocrat had thought that the girl was a boy. After he caned the boy on his bare bottom, he realised it was a girl all along. But the French movie showed the whipping in a more ‘artistic’ and ‘submissive’ setting.”

“I thought the English movie was more believable, and it was an enormous turn-on. At home afterwards, I played with myself, imagining I was the girl who received the canings. It is the only time I’ve ever done that after watching a movie.”

“Goodness,” I said. “I have seen the ‘Story of O’ [on a pirate video in the day] but I have never seen ‘Lady Libertine,’ and never heard of it until today.”

Louisa carried on, “I knew nothing about spanking or erotic punishment until I saw those movies. But I immediately knew it was for me to experience. There were those amongst the members of the Cinema Club who thought the English were more into it than anyone other nation.”

“I have some acquaintances from the cinema club who are in the kinky scene. I don’t go near it because I don’t like the look of too many of those involved, but my acquaintances are OK. They told me about a small shop downtown with a room at the back where they sell kinky stuff. It’s not legal, but the profits are enormous.”

“The owners are so careful. They won’t let you into that back room without an introduction from one of their trusted friends. That’s how I got in there. I bought two very expensive spanking magazines, but they were a letdown. These were English publications all about fantasies and used edited photographs. They were nothing as good as the movie. Almost all their spanking magazines came from the UK.”

I agreed with Louisa. Most of the spanking magazines in the day were just that. The English pornography laws stopped realistic photographs and videos from being shown. This was the case until the internet came along and broke down the barriers, which a certain section of society would love to put back up.

“Louisa,” I said. “Would like to be spanked? Am I correct, please?”

She lowered her eyes and said, “Yes, you are right. I waited to see how we got along and I see I can trust you. No man has ever asked me for permission before putting a finger in my vagina and you make such an effort to be clean for me. That is so impressive. You know what you are doing and you do it considerately. I could not think of spanking with a rough man or one who didn’t seem to care much about me.”

“You are English and I think as an island, you have more knowledge and understanding of the spanking kink than the rest put together.”

In amazement, I replied, “This is a delightful surprise. I would love to help you out with a spanking. Would it be better if I spanked you before or after we do other sexy things?”

“I’m sure spanking done right is a turn-on itself, so I would like to do it ahead of anything, assuming it’s at the start of a session together,” replied Louisa.

Louisa put it in such a delicate manner. Her language during sex was beyond reproach, with no vulgarity, and a ‘to the point’ reference to matters.

“One of those magazines described how to best set about your first spanking session. It was about the only thing worth reading,” said Louisa.

“It said a good way to start was with an ‘over-the-knee’ session. I can go bare bottom over your knee and you can hand spank me. An emergency or ‘safe’ word is very important. The spankee will say the safe word if it gets too painful, or for any other reason. Spanking must stop immediately.”

Louisa must have had this in mind since we met! It was a total surprise, and I had to think about how to respond. After a few seconds, I replied, “I’ve got it. Your description of the procedure is so clear.”

I was so taken by Louisa’s direct approach that I kissed her and caressed her. She was relaxed, and murmured in my ear, “We can use ‘Billy’ for the safe word. That’s the name of my cat. Come on, let’s do it.”

Louisa got up and moved a chair to the side of the bed and placed it so that the person sitting on it would sit parallel to the bed. The person being spanked would be over the knee of the person sitting on the chair. They would partly support their upper body on the bed, allowing the person being spanked to be fully relaxed.

“Will you use your left or right hand to spank me, please?” she asked.

“I’m left-handed,” I replied, looking at the chair, which I turned round so that my left hand was in position to spank her golden botty.

Recalling an embarrassing event of my youth when I pissed myself during a caning, I said, “Louisa love, do you think you need to take a pee before I spank you? Spanking sometimes can make a girl lose control.”

Louisa replied, “Yes I must,” and took a pee in the loo. She quickly washed in the shower, dried herself, and got over my knee.

Sitting down and looking at the bare bottom of a beautiful girl positioned over your knee has to be one of the most erotic activities known to humanity. I had a raging erection which was sticking up into her tummy.

Naughty Louisa said, “I thought I was here to be spanked and not have your dick trying to operate on me!”

This was so funny! “Darling, how many spanks do you want, please?”

Louisa replied, “Why don’t we do it in sets of six? That’s what it said in the article. Please, let’s start. I’m so horny.”

I began slowly to spank her firm, young bottom. After three spanks, Louisa said, “Please don’t be such a gentleman, and do it harder. I can stand it a lot harder and it will make me so horny.”

Increasing the force of the spanks, I stopped at number six.

“Are you OK darling?” I asked. “Oh yes,” she replied, “This is lovely. Just give me six more, please.”

 “As you wish,” I replied, carrying on but with slightly increased force. Her botty was turning pink. This time Louisa gave a little jerk and a gasp as each spank landed.

At the end of this set of six spanks, Louisa looked round at me, and said, “Please, give me six more and that may be enough to bring me to orgasm.”

So I carried on and gave her six more spanks with less time between individual swats. At the end of this set of six, Louisa said, “Keep going. I’m nearly there.”

So we had only a brief pause. I carried on spanking her, and after about four more; she was clearly in the grip of an enormous orgasm.

“Billy,” she yelled, getting up off my lap and onto the bed where she lay, legs apart.

“Come on, please, give it to me,” she begged.

I had to respond to this immediately because I was also very close to orgasm.

It’s always wonderful to enter a lady already in the grip of an orgasm. The stimulation of the male organ provided by the autonomous muscles of the pelvic floor is indescribable. We had what I recall as being one of the best sexual encounters of my life.

I was in fair shape in those days, and we were not drunk, so I willed myself to remain hard for as long as I could. Louisa was crying little tears of joy.

Eventually, we separated, and Louisa rubbed her bum. “Are you OK, darling?” I asked.

“Yes, my bum tingles. It’s not very sore, but the spanking made me hornier than I fantasised about. Fantasies are good, but reality is better. You naughty boy, I am going to be sore inside and out!”

Louisa was half lying on top of me, and I had one arm around her. With the other, I was massaging her bottom.

“Please keep doing that,” sighed Louisa. “It’s lovely. Jim, there’s more I need to talk to you about. One part of the French magazine article was about spanking implements. It said that in France, a lot of serious spanking is done with a thing called a martinet. Do you know what it is?”

“No,” I replied, “I’ve never heard of it. What is it?”

“Let me show you,” Louisa replied. She got out of bed and went to her suitcase. A few seconds later, she came back with this small multi-stranded cord whip thing in her hand.

“This is the martinet,” she said, handing it to me.

The individual cords, there were nine of them, were about thirty centimetres long and three millimetres thick. The ends of the lightly oiled cords were bound tightly with a very thin cord to prevent them from fraying. This little thin cord stiffened the ends and would deliver its special sting when it struck soft female bottom flesh. It would have hurt like hell, I thought, if used with any force.

“Where did you get this?” I asked.

Louisa said, “I sometimes have to go to France on business. They sell these things in pet shops, would you believe? They say they are for whipping a dog. Who could believe that? They sell them in the pet shops as a smokescreen. In reality, they are a sex toy.”

“So I went to a pet shop and bought one. They didn’t seem surprised. No one laughed or gave me a sly look. I went back to Spain by rail, so I put it in the bottom of my luggage. If I got searched, I would say it is a curio.”

“No searches took place, and I took it home. When I flew to Belgium this time, no one looked at my luggage on arrival. The worst they could do would be to take it from you, and I don’t think that would happen.”

“You naughty girl,” I said, “You think of everything.”

Louisa laughed gently, and replied, “The booking material mentioned that people from the UK attended their courses. It was one reason for me to book the course. It’s always been my hope that I would meet someone like you on the course, and we could have sex and spanking. In other courses, I did not find anyone suitable and now we have met. At last, I have been lucky.”

“We have both been more than lucky,” I replied. “You are one in a million. We can’t go around with a label on our backs saying ‘spank me’, can we?”

Louisa continued, “But it annoyed me on arrival when I found that if I met someone on the course, they forbade us to have relations on their property. I don’t think they can enforce it, but it would be embarrassing to have to make a fuss.”

“That’s exactly what I thought,” I said. “They apply a double standard. I guess you noticed that English guy and the Belgian girl from the EU? I’m sure they met here. The English guy, he’s got a guitar. He’s written a stupid song about the training establishment. He and the girl sang it on Tuesday night after supper before we went off to the bar. Do you remember?”

“Yes,” replied Louisa, “I remember.”

“I’ve watched them and they have shacked up together in contravention of the rules. The training establishment won’t upset the EU. I bet if we tried it, they would stop us. Perhaps it’s my fault. The old bat who runs the place asked me if I was trying to improve my French.”

“I said, ‘Yes, I am. I’m looking forward to the next time I’m in Ho Chi Minh City to talk to Madam Dai in French.’”

“The old bat froze and asked, ‘Who is Madam Dai?’”

“She probably thought that the lady was the Mamasan of a house of ill repute. No, right now, she runs probably the most authentic upmarket Vietnamese restaurant in Ho Chi Minh City.”

“So I replied to her, ‘Madam Dai was the speaker of the former South Vietnam House of Parliament. I’m sure she speaks perfect English. Even though she is Vietnamese, she has the attitude of a typical French snob regarding language. She expects you to speak to her in French.’ You should have seen the look on the face of the old bat.” [I am irreverent by nature. It’s a good failing in a human being.]

Louisa laughed like anything, and said, “You are a naughty boy.”

“Yes, I am, but to you, I try to be a gentleman. Louisa, this is my total pleasure. Of all things in this life, spending time with a beautiful and intelligent girl is the best of all. It beats everything else in life. Come back to bed. Let’s enjoy each other while we take our time to work out what we do with the martinet. There’s no rush.”

I put the martinet on the bedside table, and Louisa cuddled up to me in bed. A little tear appeared. She buried her head on my shoulder and said, “Jim, you are funny and natural. You understand me so well.”

This was very moving, and I had to wait for it to pass before I replied, “Louisa, we think alike. We come from different backgrounds, but it is as if we share the same thoughts. But time is not on our side and we need to think about the martinet. Have you tried it on yourself, please?”

Louisa looked at me and said, “Yes, and it stings like the devil. I gave myself three strokes with it as well as I could aim it on my bum. The marks lasted for five days and the pain for several hours. It would be more bearable if I warmed up first with a hand spanking, which is what they recommended in the article. It’s a pity I didn’t bring the magazine with me, but it would be embarrassing if they found it during a search.”

“Darling,” I said, “It looks like a harsh instrument to me. I’m used to the cane and I wonder if the martinet is as bad. With all those strands, it’s going to hit many nerve endings and that will increase the sting. Why don’t you try it on me first, and we can judge from my reaction how we carry on? I need to clean up first. Never spank an unwashed bottom!”

I took a quick shower and dried myself.

“Can’t I hand spank you first?” She asked.

“Why not?” I replied, “I’m too heavy to go over your knee. Let me lie on the side of the bed.”

I rested my elbows on the bed with my bum up and Louisa started spanking me. After only a few swats, she said, “It’s hurting my hand.”

I had to smile, so I took the belt out of my trousers and doubled it up

I said, “Let’s practice on the pillow first,” and I put a pillow across the end of the bed.

“Give it a few whacks with the doubled-up belt,” I said.

Louisa didn’t mind taking polite instructions and swung the belt at the pillow. It landed with a satisfying crack. But she had not figured out that when you swing the belt, the end travels further away from you once in motion because of centrifugal force. I took the belt from her and showed her what I meant, and she got the point straight away.

As I bent back over the bed, she started on me with the belt. It stung a little, far more so than when she used her hand.

“Give me about twenty like this and I will see what I feel like,” I said.

On completion of the twenty strokes, my bum was tingling a lot, but I thought it needed more stimulation.

“Louisa,” I said, “My bum is burning a little, but I’m not ready yet. Please give me twenty more with the belt.”

“You are sure?” she asked

“Yes, please,” I replied, bending over and waiting for it.

Strangely, the next twenty strokes of the belt were not as painful as the first twenty.

“Darling,” I said, “I’m ready for the martinet. Please, will you give me six strokes to start with and leave about 30 seconds between strokes? I will use ‘Billy’ as the safe word if it gets too much.”

“OK,” replied Louisa. “Get ready.”

There was the swish of the martinet cords in the air, and the first stroke landed. It was painful beyond belief. I yelled out ‘OW’ and poor Louisa said, “Are you OK?”

“Yes,” I replied. “It took me by surprise, and it stings. It’s been a long time since I felt anything like this, but don’t worry, please carry on.”

The next stroke landed and was even more painful. With difficulty, I dealt with it and remained in position. That swishing sound assailed my ears for the third time, and another white-hot blaze started in my rump. I just had to grin and bear it. It would not impress Louisa if I wimped out.

Steadying myself, I said, “Only three to go.”

Swish ‘crack,’ number four felt like a series of white hot irons burning my rump. It was the same for the last two strokes.

I stood up and rubbed hard at my tortured bum. Unlike the cane, the pain did not decrease quickly after the ‘punishment’ stopped. My bum burned and throbbed. It got worse.

Louisa stared at me in alarm. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I did it too hard.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. At least I know what it can feel like before I give it to you. I can’t believe how painful it is. It’s worse than the cane.”

Louisa said, “Please, put me back over your knee and hand spank me, then give me a few with the martinet, not too hard, but enough to feel it.”

“Let’s just check first. I must not put bloodstains on the sheets from any of the martinet strokes,” I said.

Louisa ran her cool fingers over the marks, and I heard her gasp. “Yes,” she said, “You are leaking a little from three abrasions where the marks cross over. It’s not much, but we must put plasters on them.”

I looked in the mirror and there were three places where the whip marks crossed over and they were ‘leaking’ a little. Purple spots marked the places where the ends of each bound cord had landed. They hurt like hell when I touched them.

Fortunately, I go around with a small first aid kit, so she patched me up.

“Darling, I must go easy with the martinet,” I said.

Louisa was looking shocked and said, “Jim, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what it could do.”

“Please,” I replied, “Stop saying sorry. We had to find out. But I‘m amazed they sell that thing as a dog whip.”

Sitting on the chair again, Louisa draped herself over my lap. After I hand-spanked her for about twenty strokes, she said, “Give me the martinet now, please.”

I swung a light stroke across the middle of her bottom. Louisa said, “That’s OK, please try harder for the next stroke.”

The next stroke landed with more force. Louisa yelped and wriggled about, clenching and unclenching her buttock muscles. She calmed down after about a minute. It must have been close to her pain threshold.

I gave her another stroke of about the same force, but this time, I rubbed the marks immediately afterwards. The marks were quite red and were forming hard ridges with the usual purple spot at the end of each mark. This martinet was suitable only for committed masochists.

“Please,” I said, “Let’s stop. It’s too much for us.”

Louisa replied, “No, I want to receive six strokes the same as you. Please, give me three more.”

“Do you want them slowly and I rub between strokes or fast and I finish it, please?” I asked.

“Slowly, please, let me ask for the next stroke. It hurts, but it’s a wonderful feeling afterwards. I’m ready,” she replied.

‘Whispering sound,’ ‘crack,’ stroke number four delivered.

There was more yelping and squirming. But Louisa did not rub her bum. Calm eventually arrived, and she said ‘ready’ again.

Stroke number five cracked home. I confess I did it a little harder. This produced yells of ‘Ow, Ow’ from Louisa and for the first time, she reached back with both hands and furiously rubbed her bum. It took maybe two minutes before she quietened, and said, “Ready for the last one, please.”

A warning, or perhaps a question, came to mind. I said, “It’s traditional for the last stroke of a set of six to be harder than the first five. Can you handle that, please? If you can’t, it’s no shame to say ‘No’. This martinet is a fearful thing.”

Louisa said, “Please don’t go over the top, but I can take one hard stroke. I need to know what it feels like.” She got on her knees on the bed and stuck her bum out. A brave effort indeed!

“Ready,” she said. I took careful aim, ensuring the strands would not wrap around her bum. I swung the martinet slightly faster. It made a loud ‘crack’ as it landed on her tight bottom skin. Poor girl.

Louisa collapsed onto the bed, yelling and squirming about and rubbing frantically at her bum.

“Darling,” I said, “Get back up on your knees and I will give it to you doggy fashion. When I rub against the marks on your bum, it will feel wonderful.”

“No,” she replied, “First finger me, please, and kiss my clitoris. When my orgasm comes, we do it.”

She rolled onto her back, and I lifted her legs to feel her bum, which was radiating heat! After washing my hands, I inserted a finger into her soaking vagina. It was already in motion, if not at the point of full orgasm. I fingered the slightly harder area and used my other hand to roll back the hood of her clitoris. With it being nibbled between my lips, I heard a gasp from Louisa. “You naughty boy, that’s so wonderful. I’m ready. Give it to me now!”

Louisa rolled over onto her tummy and got on her knees. I had a diamond cutter of an erection. It took less than a minute before we had an enormous mutual orgasm.

Louisa stayed on her knees and put both hands back to rub her bum. “Is it on fire?” she asked. “It feels like it.”

There was swelling in the area just above the crease and it looked very painful. Six strokes of a nine-tail martinet equals fifty-four whip marks. No wonder it is so painful. The after-effects of caning are less than those experienced after being whipped with a martinet.

I was in a similar, if not a worse, state. About an hour had gone by since I had received my whipping and the sting hardly decreased.

“Darling,” I said, “This isn’t eroticism, it’s close to torture.”

Louisa replied, “No, we can’t have any more of this, although the orgasm afterwards is beyond belief. This thing needs to be kept for special occasions or serious discipline if needed.”

It was by now about ten in the evening. I said, “Do you feel up to getting dressed and going for a drink somewhere, please?” The Netherlands runs late.

Louisa replied, “Yes, as long as they have cushions to sit on.”

She was young and tough. I was just tough.

We dressed and went for a walk towards the little village, where we found a bar. It hurt to walk very far. They had outdoor seating (it was the summer) and there were cushions on the chairs. We carefully sat down. Louisa wanted a glass of Rioja and I had a beer.

“No more spanking tonight,” said Louisa softly, “But I may feel up to ‘seconds’ after I have had a drink or three. At last, I have satisfied my curiosity about the British and spanking.”

I laughed a little and said, “You haven’t experienced the kiss of the cane, which I’m sure can give erotic stimulation. There could be ways to deal with that. If I can find a shop that sells equestrian accessories, they may have a riding crop or a dressage whip. These will feel similar to the cane in terms of sensation if used carefully. But I don’t think we can do it this until we have recovered.”

Louisa replied, “That doesn’t give us much opportunity, does it, because the course ends next week and we will go home.”

“There’s a chance for us. I’m taking the ferry on Friday evening and I have booked a cabin which can take two people,” I replied. “Could you come with me to the UK? I can check with the ferry company if you can turn around and come back, or I could drop you at one of the London airports and you could fly back. The ferry arrives in the UK on Saturday morning. If you can fly on Sunday, we could have a night at a London hotel, or at a hotel near whichever airport you will fly from.”

Why didn’t I think of this earlier?

Louisa stared at me and said, “If I can find a flight on Sunday, it’s fine. You think of everything.” She touched my arm. “Naughty boy!”

“That’s great,” I said. “Tomorrow, we can find a travel agent, or I can call the ferry company directly. I can book us a London hotel and a flight for you. How does that sound?”

Louisa gave me a lovely smile and said, “We do it tomorrow morning.”

It was a lovely warm evening, and we stayed there until closing time.

Back in the cabin, Louisa was in the mood for another good screwing, doggy-fashion. She said, “It’s wonderful when you rub against the marks on my bum. It’s such a turn-on.”

We did it lovingly this time, without spanking or serious foreplay.

In the morning, I called the ferry company and booked Louisa into the cabin with me. Louisa found an afternoon flight on Sunday from Gatwick to her city in Spain, which would allow us to spend a relaxed Saturday evening together. I booked a double room at an excellent Gatwick hotel at the company rate.

We spent the morning looking at Utrecht. Louisa said she wanted to work off the soreness before we carried on with our spanking and sexual activities.

There was an outdoor and equestrian shop in a nearby village. They sold riding crops and dressage whips. In a little cafe near the shop, I quietly explained what these were to Louisa. The dressage whip is a thin carbon fibre tapering shaft covered with a cloth material with a ‘popper’ at the end. It might be too harsh to use on a human being. The riding crop is shorter and the ‘leather slapper’ at the end spanks the unclad posterior.

Louisa said, “I’m sure the sting of the dressage whip is painful, but I would love to try it. That riding crop looks too stiff, and the leather slapper at the end is quite small. I can just imagine the dressage whip wrapping around my bum and the sensation of the white-hot sting.”

After a brief thought, I replied, “The sensation from the dressage whip will depend on how hard we use it. If I buy the dressage whip, do you want to come with me, please? I understand if you feel embarrassed that the shop assistant might guess it was for our mutual use, but not on a horse. We don’t look like ‘horsy’ people.”

Louisa laughed and said, “I would like to see if they react at all. It would be so funny to watch!”

“Come on,” I said, “Let’s find out.”

The shortest dressage whip was at a reasonable price. It was just over a metre long. The shop girl stole a look at Louisa, who smiled back. The girl may have thought something, but decided not to reveal it beyond a glance.

I paid for it, put it down my trouser leg, and outside, I said to Louisa, “We should put it in the car. I can’t walk around like this for too long!”

We walked back to the car, and I put the whip inside.

Louisa said, “If we walk around much longer I am going to get sunburn. Let’s go back to the cabin. What are we waiting for?”

Back at the cabin, Louisa looked at the dressage whip. It tapered from about 10mm at the grip end to only 3mm at the ‘popper’ end. The ‘popper’ is a little tassel of cord with a termination knot glued in place to stop it from unravelling. A note in the ‘instructions’ which came with the whip said it had a carbon fibre core. This made it close to unbreakable. Knowing that its purpose was to get the attention of a horse, I thought it would more than get the attention of a human. 

Louisa said, “It must give an agonising sting if used at all hard. Let me have a shower and see how the marks on my bum are doing. The sensation has decreased a lot since we went out walking.”

She took care of herself in the bathroom, emerging with a towel wrapped around her. 

“Please,” said Louisa, “Look at my bum. It feels as if the swelling has gone down. What do you think about the marks?”

With Louisa lying on her tummy, I looked at her bum. The swelling above the crease had gone, and the former red marks had turned light brown with a darker brown spot where the knots had landed. They were no longer swollen or ridged. I pressed on one.

“Does that hurt?” I asked.

“No,” replied Louisa. “Perhaps the martinet doesn’t cause deep bruising, but it gives a powerful stimulus to the skin.”

“Yes,” I said, “It’s too light to cause bruising. There is a terrific sting because of the number of cords exciting so many nerve endings.”

I was in a similar condition. The pain had gone, and the sensations decreased to almost nothing.

I needed a shower too and took care of myself. When I came back, Louisa had got into bed. She said, “Let’s rest for a couple of hours, then see how the fancy takes us.”

“Would you rest more after I pleasure you?” I asked.

Louisa replied, “You have just come from the shower. I’m happy to give you a blow job if you would like that. You deserve it. You have been a good boy.”

This was delightful, but I thought I should return the compliment, so I said, “Shall I look after your little sister first?”

She beamed at me and got on top of the bedclothes, putting a towel under her bum. I licked her clitoris, rolled back the hood, and fingered her G spot. It didn’t take long before she was in the grip of an enormous orgasm.

She said, “Stop, please. It’s too powerful. I will shake to pieces. It’s your turn now. Lie down on the bed.”

I lay down beside her and Louisa went down on me. She gently massaged my balls as she gave me an excellent blow job. It would be impolite to ask how she had become so expert! I stroked her breasts as it went on. The overall sensation was beyond belief.

We lay there in each other’s arms. “Now we can rest a little,” she said.

I said, “I should wash the dressage whip and let it dry before we use it in the interests of hygiene,” and did so in the bathroom. The whip was damp, so I put it inside a window curtain in the sun to dry and went back to bed.

We drifted into sleep. Our enjoyment of the coming evening would surely benefit from a rest. It would give us more time to recover from the activities of the previous evening. 

We awoke in the early evening. I got up and took a quick shower. Louisa heard me and followed me into the shower.

She said, “Be a good boy and wash me down there, please!”

I know she loved me to do that and her reaction to my efforts was delightful.

Louisa said, “I can’t decide. Do I want a screwing or to feel the dressage whip first?”

“If anyone needs to feel the dressage whip, it needs to be me first. I’m bothered by the sting it will give. Would you like to try it on me first, please?” I replied.

“Sure, get up on the bed and I will try it on you,” said Louisa. 

Kneeling on the bed with my bum in the air, I felt the whip tap my bum, then ‘whistle crack.’ There was that instant of numbness, and then a blazing sting erupted across my rump. This thing was seriously painful. I gasped and shook my rump.  While waiting for the blaze to subside a little, Louisa said, “There is a dark red line on your bum. It looks worse than the marks from the martinet. How does it feel?”

“It’s very painful,” I replied. “The pain is deeper than that from the martinet and the sting is less, but the overall pain is worse. But please, let’s try for ‘six of the best.’ It’s how I can assess how it compares with a traditional caning.”

“Please, carry on, but slowly. Let me recover from each stroke before you give the next one.”

Tap-tap ‘whistle crack,’ the next stroke landed. It felt much the same as the first one.  There was no point in waiting too long, so bracing myself, I said, “Next one, please.”

The third one landed with much the same result. Perhaps I was going numb as the assault built up.

“Louisa love,” I said, “Give me the last three hard and fast, I need to compare it with a traditional caning, and make number six harder than the first five, please.”

“Are you sure?” she replied. “The marks look very painful!”

“Yes,” I said. “It’s good for you to see how it is. I knew it would be like that.”

Strokes four and five were simply very painful. Louisa paused, and then I heard a louder whistle and ‘crack’ as number six exploded across my rump. I collapsed on the bed and grabbed at my bum, in a sea of pain.

Louisa gasped, and then said, “Stroke number six has cut you. I’m sorry.” In the bathroom, I looked at my bum in the mirror, and sure enough, there was an abrasion maybe two inches long, oozing blood. 

“Don’t worry,” I replied. “We needed to find out.”

I found my plasters, and Louisa helped stick a large plaster on the cut.

My bum was throbbing in pain. Trying to recall the past, I was sure it was worse than school canings, which had never cut me.

“Darling,” I said, “I can’t use this dressage whip on you. It’s just too painful.”

She put her head in her hands and started crying, “I’m sorry,” she said. “I got carried away. I thought I used too much force. It’s my fault.”

Taking her in my arms, I kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m fine. We found out on my bum, not on your golden botty. That’s how things should be.”

Louisa, to her credit, stopped crying, looked me in the eye and replied, “In England, on Sunday night, you must give me a sore bum to remember on my way home. You must cover my bum in red stripes that I will feel for the next week.”

“Darling,” I said, “Let’s take a walk and a drink. It’s only early evening. We have plenty of time. Let’s not rush things.”

We got dressed and walked down to the little bar nearby. As usual, after being whacked with a few strokes of a narrow implement, after thirty minutes, I could sit without discomfort. This contrasted with how I felt after receiving the martinet. Louisa asked for a large Rioja. This could be a chance to see how things went after Louisa had more than one drink and I persuaded her to have another. Within the hour, she was looking longingly at me.

Louisa said, “If I have any more, you may have to carry me back.”

This was a good omen, so I paid up and we walked back to the cabin. Louisa was none too steady on her feet and I had to take her arm!

Back in the cabin, Louisa stepped out of her dress, rushed into the bathroom, and took a pee, legs apart, not caring what I saw!  I helped clean her up, quickly showered and got into bed with her. Louisa could not wait for me to perform.

“What is it about wine,” she said, “A couple of large glasses and I am almost anybody’s.”

In the missionary position, she got hold of my dick and eased it into her. I had not partaken of too much alcohol and I was ready and hard. We had the most fantastic sex without foreplay, and Louisa squirted on me. This was the first time I had ever experienced it. Fortunately, Louisa had put a bath towel on the bed so we would not have to sleep on the wet patch!

“Louisa,” I said, “You didn’t squirt before. What brought it on?”

“It’s the drink, plus the great atmosphere. This cabin may be the place where I woke up from a dream and new experiences became possible. I’m not sure, but I felt like the whole place was in motion as I came and I had feelings I had never had before. Please, can we do it again?”

“Sure,” I said, “I love to do it again. I’m going to take a drink of sugar in water to re-energise first.”

Multiple orgasms may be much easier for the female than they are for the male and their recovery time is much shorter. Aren’t they lucky?

After quickly washing my nether regions in the shower, I came back to bed. We had a long kiss and cuddle session and a little hand came to feel for my now rigid member.

“Come on,” she said, “Stick it in me.”

The action was slower and more loving. Louisa was in a relaxed but yearning mood. I thought I was in heaven with this lovely young lady.

As we lay there in bliss, Louisa said, “I was thinking earlier about the spanking scenes in ‘Lady Libertine.’ After the movie, a few of us went to a local bar and talked about it. We did so at a table outside and quietly because we did not want to attract attention. One older guy said that the first spanking, which was a caning, was straight out of the ‘English school caning’ mould. For the second one, her lover used a riding crop when he was needlessly jealous of her behaviour. But it confirmed the relationship between them, which resulted in their marriage.”

“I would love to receive a caning like the first one in the movie, bent over with a tight, bare bum. Is it possible we could do it next weekend, please?”

“Yes, of course,” I replied. “On the way to the hotel, we can drive to Soho. I know where they sell a selection of canes. It will be late morning by the time we arrive in London. There will be time to ‘go shopping’ then maybe a walk around in London if it’s not raining and a lunch?”

Louisa said, to my joy, “Never mind about the walk and lunch. Let’s buy the cane, go to the hotel and have fun!”

I was all for that and agreed immediately!

“Darling,” I went on, “About next week. My room is grotty, tiny and has a single bed. What is your room like?”

Louisa replied, “It’s a good size with a double bed and has an ensuite toilet and shower.”

“How thick are the walls? Can you hear the rooms next door?” I asked.

“No, not as far as I can recall. I think they are fairly solid walls,” she replied.

“Does the outside window overlook the front garden?” I asked.

“Yes, it does,” said Louisa. “

“Good,” I replied. “At a pre-agreed time, I will stand in the front garden and flash my torch at your window. The time might be between nine-thirty and ten pm. I need to work on that.”

“I will only flash the torch if there is no one around. If I think I can get away with it, I will come to your room and quietly knock on your door. What do you think about that?”

Louisa laughed and said, “Do you think we can get away with it?”

I replied, “Let’s try on Monday night if we have had time to check out all the details. But if it is possible, then I hope we can go for it. If we get caught, what will they do? We need to check if the Anglo-Belgian couple are together. Can you do that, you think?”

“Yes,” replied Louisa. “I know her room. Let me deal with that.”

“It will be a good idea to check if they have shacked up. Ammunition may be required to address the ‘double standard’ matter,” I said.

Louisa said, “If we can’t get together during the week, I will die of frustration. Let’s work on it.”

“Darling, what else would you like tonight, please?”

“Please look at my bum. How do the martinet marks look right now?” she replied.

She rolled onto her tummy, and I lifted back the sheets. The ridges had subsided, and the marks were a light brown colour. I pressed on one of them.

“Did that hurt, please?” I asked.

“No,” replied Louisa. “I’m in the mood for two strokes of the martinet. Jim, please, will you oblige?”

“Of course,” I said and got out of bed to fetch the martinet.

“Two strokes only?” I asked, returning with it.

“Yes,” replied Louisa, “Unless I ask for more.”

She got up on her knees with her head down. “Not full force, please, and rub after each stroke.”

I said, “OK, two warning taps with the strand ends, and then the stroke.”

‘Tap-tap,’ whistle ‘crack.’

“Ouch,” said Louisa.

I rubbed the resulting mark, and she wriggled about under my ministrations.

“Hmmmmm,” she said, “Lovely and stingy.  Next one, please.”

‘Tap-tap,’ whistle ‘crack’, but slightly harder.

‘Ow, Ow,’ “Naughty boy,” she said.

The cheeks of her bottom began to clench and unclench. An orgasm was not far off and after only two strokes!

“One more, I beg,” moaned Louisa.

I gave her what I was sure would be the last stroke of this brief session, with about the same force as the second stroke. It tipped her over the top and into a full orgasm.

I waited until her orgasm declined, and then I entered her doggy fashion, making sure I rubbed against the martinet marks. We climaxed together and were in each other’s arms until we dropped off to sleep.

We woke late on Sunday, walked to the cafe for a late breakfast, took a last walk around Utrecht and then left for the training venue.

On the way, we had discussed that on Monday night, all being well, we would try the torch flashing as planned.

I dropped Louisa on a side road about four hundred metres from the drive to the venue and went into town. I looked at the town for the first time during daylight and had a beer. About two hours later, I drove to the venue and parked. No one paid me much attention.

Later, I had another beer alone in the venue bar. The Anglo-Belgian couple were there, and we exchanged pleasantries. I took note that they left together.

That night, I verified that Louisa’s window looked out over the lawn. There was no one around at nine-thirty pm and the area below her window was dark.

The next morning, at the coffee break, I had a quick word with Louisa.

“Are the walls solid and are the couple together?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “The walls are solid, and the couple are together.”

“OK,” I said, “Watch for the torch tonight at nine-thirty. If you haven’t seen it by nine-forty-five, I have called it off for the night. If I can get up to your room unseen, I will go ‘knock-knock,’ pause, then ‘knock’ again. So two taps, then one. Let me in as quickly as possible. Wish us luck!”

Unobtrusively, I checked the ground floor fire escape door, which led to a staircase to Louisa’s room on the first floor. The door was not alarmed, and so I opened it, placing a small twig against the side of the door to hold it open.

I flashed the torch at nine-thirty, went to her room, knocked, and Louisa let me in.

We had to be too quiet. It was not our style, but it was better than nothing!

Societal taboos are ridiculous!