"Fuck me harder, yes harder, oh fucking yes, I'm there, yeeeeees," I screamed as John pumped his magnificent penis vigorously inside my responsive vagina. He pounded me until I wept tears of joy as I exploded when he shot his spunk into my throbbing pussy. I arched my back, pushing my pelvis upwards to meet his cock, tossing my long blond hair from side to side. I couldn't stop shaking or crying with joy while experiencing a tremendous orgasm.

My name is Amy Malone. I am thirty-seven and have owned a successful accountancy business for nine years. I married Brian, my schoolboy sweetheart, when I was twenty-three after completing my Warwick University degree. We amicably divorced six years ago. We had just fallen out of love and grown apart with different ideas of what we wanted from our lives. Since being single again, I have rejuvenated my love and social life, thanks mainly to my relationship with John.

I have long blond hair, fashionably styled, large blue eyes, long slender legs, and my bum is like a ripe peach waiting to be eaten, so I'm informed!! People of both sexes say I have a body and face that folks yearn for, which I like to believe.

I am in a passionate relationship with John, whom I was immediately attracted to when he started working for me. I tried to avoid work relationships like the plague, but I found him charming and attractive, so he became the exception to the rule.

I readily accepted his invitation when he asked me out after a few weeks, as the chemistry between us was overwhelming. Whenever we touched or just talked, the atmosphere between us was electric.

After our second date, at the end of the evening, he invited me to his flat for a coffee. The atmosphere became so sensual as he held my hands while we French kissed that I begged him to fuck me. He eagerly obliged, and I never regretted throwing myself at him for one minute.

I cherish being bisexual, and there wasn't much I haven't experienced sexually. I relish being fucked, but I'm also addicted to the cane since being punished by my headmistress when seventeen in my final year. After being punished at school, corporal punishment became my obsession. It was an essential part of my life and something I loved.

It became my irresistible fetish, dominating all my thoughts and dreams as I recollect the times the cane stung my hands and the feelings I experienced when witnessing the punishment of others.

I lost my virginity at seventeen while still a St. Mary's School pupil. It was the day the headmistress, Miss James, punished me when I was caned along with Brian, the boy I would eventually marry. Unfortunately, or luckily as it proved for me, we had been seen enjoying a fag on the playing fields by the duty teacher, who took our names and reported us to the headmistress.

Although we knew the outcome if caught smoking was always the headmistress's cane, we never gave it a thought it would be us. All the times I had enjoyed a smoke at school, I never imagined it would be me feeling the headmistress's rattan across my palms.

Waiting outside the office, we knew there was only one outcome, and we weren't disappointed when summoned to enter. To say I was apprehensive was an understatement, and I could see Brian was as scared as me.

Miss James had her cane on her desk and was ready to use it. She told us caning sixth-year pupils was a rarity, but she had only one option to cane the pair of us. I had tears in my eyes as I knew the pain I would suffer.

Once the intense stinging had subsided from my caned palms, I could not believe how aroused I was from my punishment. It was heightened by my witnessing the stick striking Brian's bum six times. He stoically took his caning while I cried like a baby, stamping my feet while begging for my mum as the stick struck my hands.

After being thrashed along with Brian, I realised I was obsessed with the cane and the emotion I experienced after being and seeing the punishment. My feelings were mind-blowing once the stinging subsided on my palms to an acceptable level, and I could not believe how wet my throbbing pussy became.

Although my hands were still stinging and my eyes were wet from crying, I was hornier than I ever imagined possible as I looked at my striped palms. The teachers had thrashed my hands numerous times, but it had never been as painful as this.

Tears had made my big blue eyes moist, but standing there looking at Brian, I could hardly believe that all I wanted was to be taken to bed while he gave me my first fuck. I needed and wanted to satisfy the ache in my throbbing moist pussy.

I told him that during the caning, my knickers had become so wet I was frightened that my leaking love juice would run down my leg and be seen by our headmistress.

I touched his erect penis, stroking the rock-hard shaft with eager fingers. I held him in my arms, hugging him while putting my tongue in his mouth and kissing him passionately. I Revealed that I knew he had always wanted to fuck me, and now I would make his wish come true. I said I would love to have his penis inside me and longed for him to be my first-ever fuck.

When we arrived at his house, we sprinted inside, desperate for the sex we were eager to experience.

As he took my hand and dragged me up the stairs, he told me he found it surprisingly arousing to see my beautiful palm held out flat while I waited to feel the stick striking my gorgeous hands. He added that despite making him horny, he felt sorry for me and had found his punishment painful, something he never wanted to repeat.

Brian said he wanted me so much he had often wanked himself to massive orgasms thinking about us fucking. Being aroused by my punishment was a pleasant surprise and something he had never imagined happening.

He added that he couldn't wait to shag me as his cock stood to attention hard as stone, eagerly waiting to enter my hole and shoot his spunk inside me.

That was the day that confirmed I had not only become addicted to corporal punishment, but I was more than happy to have a cock fucking my pussy.

As I lay naked on the bed, I placed my caned palms on Brian's striped bum, squeezing hard, telling him I couldn't wait to be shagged. When he entered me without any foreplay, he slid in quickly as I was so moist, and it wasn't painful, as I had often heard girls at school mention. I found being fucked pleasurable, but having never experienced sex before, I thought it would last longer.

Thankfully, I had been on the pill since my sixteenth birthday and, on reflection, deemed Mummy's advice of better safe than sorry a valid prediction.

When Brian shot his load into my pussy, I had no regrets about losing my cherry. I was pleasantly surprised when he shouted I was the most wonderful girl in the world, and he truly loved me. I have since discovered that it is not unusual for men to cry out loving compliments while they fucked you!!

After being punished together and discovering the joys of sex, it was no surprise that we became an item.

I had no problem persuading Brian to acquire a cane and satisfy my obsession with punishment. He also asked me if he could cane my butt like he had been caned at school, and I agreed with some reservations. He found this aroused him to the point of no return, and I must admit the sex that followed was explosive.

I still preferred my palms being stung by far, but the wonderful shagging I experienced after being caned on my bum was a worthy compensation that I grew to love. Brian said seeing me touching my toes with my peachy tush in the air, waiting to be caned, made him as horny as hell.

With more than a bit of help from me, Brian was delighted to discover that sucking and massaging my clitoris caused me to scream in ecstasy.

At the same time, I also gave him his first blow job, which aroused him until he exploded, and he achieved a climax he never dreamed existed. We also had fun exploring the many positions of having sex together while striving to discover the most responsive areas of our bodies. He said I was like a wild animal after a caning, and the sex was magnificent as I became a woman possessed.

We saw each other a few times a week after school and sometimes on weekends. It was a pleasant relationship rather than intense, dominated on my part by grabbing every opportunity for a caning and sex.

The dynamics of our affair changed when I furthered my education at Warwick Uni in October. I was eager to enjoy University life while gaining, I hoped, a life-enhancing degree. We wanted to continue our relationship, but it would be open, and we agreed to decide our future when my studies were completed.

Brian was enjoying his position as a researcher for a group of MPs and was often required to travel all over the country and sometimes even abroad. He loved his job as much as I loved Uni, so we predominantly conducted our affair by telephone except for the holidays.

Although I enjoyed a vibrant sex life at Uni, I told him I missed having him inside me. I said when masturbating with my dildo and rubbing my clitoris; I had often imagined him caning my hands before enjoying his cock, pounding my throbbing pussy until I exploded.

He told me that hearing me say that while being apart confirmed what he had already suspected, the realisation that he loved me and wanted us to spend our life together.

We continued our relationship during my breaks from University, but when I had finished my studies, it was the first time I seriously considered the idea of marriage to Brian.

I had stayed at Uni for an extra two years and was twenty-three years old when I gained my Master's in economics. I had several partners of both sexes at this time who seemed to enjoy my fetish as much as I relished being fucked.

After completing my education, we discussed the way forward and decided to commit to each other. The sex remained enjoyable, and my obsession with corporal punishment became more rampant than ever.

We both enjoyed satisfying my fetish with the cane. Brian was eager to punish me because, after he thrashed my palms, I usually gave him what he said was the finest fuck or blow job he had only imagined in his fantasies

.

I had several flings while at Warwick, and my peers and friends often told me with tongue in cheek that I was somewhat promiscuous, using my good looks to satisfy my evident passion for sex.

Surprisingly, at this time, I only had one serious relationship with a girl called Sarah McKenzie, who, like me, was bisexual and enjoyed her corporal punishment fetish as much as I did.

Sarah lived in Edinburgh and told me the tawse was frequently in action at her school, usually stinging pupils' palms. She said she had even enjoyed witnessing boys bending over while having their bums thrashed on the odd occasion by the male teachers.

Sarah loved telling me stories of the punishments witnessed and the strappings she had suffered as she could see I was as thrilled listening as she was when telling the tale. She added that all teachers readily tawse their hands, but the ultimate sentence was when you received a headmistress's strapping.

The strap she used was much heavier and thicker than those wielded by the teachers, and the pain it inflicted reflected its size. While receiving this punishment, she never knew pupils, including the boys, who had taken their punishment stoically.

She told me when the headmistress tawse had thrashed her, she had screamed aloud, begging for the strapping to stop. She said, feeling the heavier tawse stinging her palms was an experience she would unfortunately never forget. Although the sex that followed later, she would always remember with delight.

She said that night, her boyfriend pounded her pussy with a new conviction, inspired by the tale of her strapping while kissing her punished hands.

Sarah said he had exploded inside her with a force she had never experienced before. He wrapped his tongue around her erect nipples, and her body reacted as if it had a mind of its own. Sarah added that she had cum like an erupting volcano while screaming her undying love.

She explained it was the start of a journey she had embraced with never a moment of regret.

I told her how similar my experience had been to hers. I was seventeen the day I lost my virginity after the headmistress severely caned my palms. Brian, the boy I would marry, witnessed my punishment as I did his bum being thrashed by Miss James. This resulted in my discovering sex for the first time and was an experience I have never regretted.

I agreed with Sarah that our punishments and the sex that followed undoubtedly changed our lives for the better.

We became inseparable and spent three unforgettable years together. There wasn't much in the way of sex we didn't practise or enjoy. Amongst other delights, Sarah introduced me to the tawse, and I showed her the painful joys of the cane, which ensured the sex we had after punishing each other was simply the best. Like me, Sarah preferred being punished on her palms, but we both grew to enjoy having our arses thrashed when we fancied a change.

We are still good friends and usually get together several times a year. Our attraction is as strong as ever, and we engage in sex and corporal punishment whenever possible. I do not doubt we would be an item if we lived closer; although we were happily married, sexually, we were compatible.

I pondered how I would introduce John to my obsession without him thinking me a weirdo or pervert. I loved him so much that I was working up the courage to reveal all when fate played its part.

I had enjoyed a Sunday morning of being fucked until I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. John's recovery rate always amazed me, as he always seemed ready for sex.

He was pleasantly surprised when I sucked his cock while eagerly swallowing his cum. He responded by sucking and tenderly biting my eagerly protruding clitoris until I orgasmed repeatedly. He loved ensuring I was satisfied when we had sex and knew having my little friend aroused never failed to fulfil that desire.

We sat at the table enjoying breakfast, my pussy still moist and tingling after our vigorous lovemaking. I thought my life couldn't improve but I was about to be proved wrong.

When, out of the blue, John asked me if they had used corporal punishment when I was at school. My heart missed a beat as I told him they certainly did and asked him why the question. He showed me the article in the magazine he had been reading. It was by a thirty-five-year-old female called Jenny Higgins, who said she had been caned at school by the headmistress during her final year.

She wrote the caning had been painful and stung like hell, humiliating and causing her to cry. She added the majority of pupils who received a caning would agree that the punishment was a deterrent. It usually improved their behaviour and performance to such an extent that very few felt the cane striking their palms more than once.

Jenny remarked that, in her opinion, school corporal punishment should be reintroduced. She was convinced it would help the teachers maintain discipline and encourage pupils to behave.

He showed me Jenny's story, including photographs of her in her school uniform during her final year as a schoolgirl. She was an attractive young lady, reminding me of my friend Cathy, who I had been caned with at school.

As I read the article, it wasn't long before my pussy started to tingle and get very moist. I was imagining seeing Jenny with her palm held out while having her hands punished. Seeing the pictures of her in the magazine enthralled me, and my imagination was working overtime as I became extremely aroused.

This opportunity was the moment I had longed for, and I did not hesitate to go in for the kill. I told John that Jenny was a lovely schoolgirl and being punished was an experience she was unlikely to forget. I added that reading the article brought back many memories of my school days.

I told him that the difference I experienced from Jenny was that my palms felt the stick more than once when punished by my headmistress and the teachers. Caning at St Mary's was their usual solution to what they judged unacceptable behaviour or performance, and I can't recollect many pupils escaping punishment, if any.

I told John the first time I had held my hand out for caning was during a cooking lesson, of all things!! Until then, I had been fortunate only to witness the punishment of others and had been lucky enough to have never felt the stinging on my palms that the cane inflicted.

I suffered one stroke on each hand from Miss Fisk, the domestic science teacher, accompanied by my best friend, Linda Mays. She summoned us to the front of the class for continually talking and not paying attention while she was speaking. She had already warned the class that the next person misbehaving would be punished, and foolishly, we were the ones caught in the act.

To our dismay but not a surprise, Miss Fisk removed a crook-handled cane from her desk and said we had only ourselves to blame. She told us she didn't like caning girls, but our behaviour left her with little option but to punish us.

We held our palms upwards on her command while she laid the cane across them before administering the stroke. The stinging was excruciating, and I admit to sobbing, as did Linda.

She told us after the caning, as she always did when punishing the girls, that we could go to the toilets and return after we had composed ourselves.

As the cold water was helping our burning hands recover, we agreed the cane stung as much as we had suspected. We felt very sorry for ourselves, and my only reaction to the punishment was pain and embarrassment. The welts on our palms set an example to the class that avoiding any future misbehaviour resulting in punishment from the rattan would be advisable. As was usual after a caning, our friends sympathised when they examined our stripes, which had now turned an angry red.

As we walked home from school, Linda and I discussed our punishment. We reluctantly agreed that it would unlikely be our last experience of the cane stinging our hands, although we both decided to do our best to avoid it.

When I showed Carol, my Mummy, the welts on my palms, she told me something that would change my perception of her forever. After she hugged me and kissed my poor hands, she confessed she had experienced a caning at school during her final year. She told me she received the proverbial six of the best, three on each hand, from the headmistress with her best friend, Debbie Tooth, when being discovered playing truant.

She said punishment had done her no lasting harm and probably at the time improved her behaviour, as she never contemplated truancy or was caned again.

She said she could still remember her poor hands feeling the excruciating stinging as the cane struck her palms, and her friend Debbie's wailing when being punished has haunted her forever. She added that the embarrassment she felt while pleading for the caning to stop and crying when being punished taught her a lesson she never forgot.

Mummy said that, unlike me, she had been scared to tell my nanny she had been caned because she had suspected the repercussion would have probably been another punishment.

John shared a harmless, flirtatious relationship with my Mummy, Carol, and often told us he could see where I got my good looks. He said he found it astonishing I had several canings at school but was even more shocked that Carol had to hold out her hands while her palms were punished. Despite his surprise, he admitted after I told him about her caning and mine, it had made him as horny as hell.

John added that he found it even stranger that, not knowing Jenny, he became somewhat aroused while reading her article. He admitted although he had never experienced or even witnessed corporal punishment, he was now intrigued that girls were punished in this way.

He told me to continue my school experiences as he was shocked I had been caned as he always imagined I had been the near-perfect pupil. John said he was infatuated hearing tales of the punishments I encountered at school. He confessed he was enthralled by the thoughts of his Amy getting her palms thrashed when he usually felt them around his cock.

I went on to talk to him about my subsequent encounters with the cane. I told him that, after many a punishment in class, I would finally experience my first headmistress caning.

I explained that Linda and I waited outside the headmistress's study with our friend Cathy O'Rourke. I had just turned seventeen and considered myself quite the little lady. The last thing I expected was to be waiting outside the headmistress's study for a caning.

Cathy's older sister had a magazine that, in those days, would be considered pornographic and Cathy, in her wisdom, had decided to bring it to school to show us. It was sod's law that we didn't see the teacher approaching us as we were engrossed in looking at the pictures of the semi-nude men.

The teacher on playground duty saw us laughing and came over to see what we found so amusing. When she saw what we were looking at, she confiscated the magazine and ordered us to wait outside the headmistress's study.

Cathy said she would take the blame but couldn't dob her sister in as she never even knew she had taken the mag.

When we were called into the heads study, she stood, arms folded, the offending magazine we had been reading in her hand.

Looking furiously at the three of us, Miss James asked who it belonged to, and Cathy told her she had found it on the way to school. Miss James said she found that hard to believe but would punish the three of us, as we were all guilty of reading the filth. After giving us the biggest bollocking ever and telling us our behaviour, especially as we were sixth formers, was unacceptable and warranted the most severe sanction available. Miss James added that she had little alternative but to administer the maximum punishment. We would each receive six strokes of the cane, three on each hand.

Our heads turned and followed her as she went to the cupboard and removed the frightening-looking yellow ratten with its crook handle from the hook where it menacingly hung. I found myself shaking, and my eyes became moist at the thought of the stinging about to be inflicted on my poor palms.

I told John I knew this was the start of my addiction to the cane. Little did I know it was just the beginning of the fetish I would grow to love and become obsessed with.

He told me he was so aroused that he couldn't wait to hear the rest of the story.

I continued telling him that witnessing the stick striking Cathy's delicate palms as her beautiful face contorted with agony upset me, and I started to cry. My knickers became wet, and it was only much later that I realised I had experienced my first orgasm without pleasuring myself.

The tears escaping Cathy's large hazel eyes flowed down her cheeks. She begged Miss James to stop and was so distressed that it made me forget the punishment I would receive. After the sixth stroke, three across each trembling hand, Cathy was doubled up with pain, suffering from uncontrollable shaking and wailing like a banshee.

Miss James told Cathy to compose herself and stand by the wall as her punishment had ended. She added she hoped the caning would serve as a lesson and never have to be repeated. Poor, beautiful Cathy was distraught as she slowly walked away, blowing on her palms and waving them in the air, trying to relieve the excruciating stinging. I couldn't take my eyes off her nor exit my trance until I heard my name being called by Miss James to step forward and receive my punishment.

I stood before the head shaking, my right arm raised with my palm uppermost, awaiting to be caned. I could hear the stick whistling through the air as it descended before striking my hand with a loud crack. The stinging was unbearable, and although I tried to accept my punishment stoically, I couldn't help but beg for mercy while tears cascaded down my cheeks.

Having never felt the cane, I told John he couldn't imagine how painful my stinging palms felt. I was distraught and had never experienced such distress before.

After being dismissed, I slowly walked away, seeing the welts on my palms becoming more prominent by the minute. When I reached the wall, Linda stood before Miss James with a raised arm, ready to accept her punishment. She was crying and telling the headmistress how sorry she was. I couldn't see much through my tears but could hear the crack of the cane striking Linda's palms and the poor girl's screams as the stinging became unbearable.

I knew from my experience how much agony the girl was in.

The three of us stood before Miss James sobbing, rubbing our hands together, trying to subdue the stinging while she reminded us that our behaviour must improve. She said she never expected to punish us again but warned us she would contact our parents if another visit to her study for unacceptable behaviour occurred.

Then she dismissed us, and we rushed to the toilets to let the cold water try to soothe our burning palms. Linda and I were slowly regaining our composure, but Cathy was in a terrible state.

"The fucking cow," she cried. " Just look at my damaged hands. She's a pervert and enjoyed caning my palms."

I hugged Cathy tightly, kissing her stinging hands before telling her I loved her. She hugged me back and kissed my lips, telling me she loved me too. It began a remarkable friendship with few, if any, boundaries and helped make me the person I am today.

I told John I had a few more revelations to get out of my system while I was on a mission and prayed he would still want me after I confessed. I disclosed I hadn't only become obsessed with corporal punishment but was bisexual, and I had enjoyed sexual relationships with my female friends for many years.

I looked John in the eyes and told him I loved him more than I've ever loved anyone, but I cannot or want to change the person I am. I told him feeling his penis inside me was the most beautiful feeling I'd ever experienced, and I never wanted that to change. Also, my love for him was so strong it was the first time I had ever swallowed or had that desire while sucking a cock.

I added while I was revealing all that another confession I need to make is that I have always tended to be promiscuous, but since we have been together, I haven't even thought, let alone gone with anybody else.

John held me in his arms as he passionately kissed me, his tongue finding mine. I could feel his rock-hard penis pressing against my pussy, and all I wanted was for him to fuck me.

We rushed to the bedroom, throwing our robes aside as we went. We lay naked on the bed, my throbbing pussy wet with anticipation, waiting to be fucked. John's cock was rock hard, wanting to thrust inside me. My nipples were erect, crying out to be massaged. John eagerly obliged, and the fucking he gave me was as intense as anything I had ever experienced. He kissed my hands while telling me all he wished was to make me the happiest girl in the world and loved me so much he was willing to try or do anything I wanted.

He said he would agree to any role-play that I desired. If I needed him to cane me, he would gladly oblige. He smiled as he said that maybe Carol would like to be whacked, as thinking about caning mother and daughter was making him as horny as hell.

I told him of my fears of telling him about my sex life, but now I realise I shouldn't have worried as he has embraced my obsession with enthusiasm.

As my mouth devoured his magnificent cock, my tongue playing with the sensitive head, John cried out that he loved me more than he ever thought possible. He gently squeezed my firm, swollen nipples before his lips wrapped around them, sucking hard and then moving his fingers to caress my throbbing protruding clitoris.

As I swallowed the spunk, relishing his taste, I exploded and realised I had found the man of my dreams.