Maylin didn't know which gave her more pride. Graduating to her Master's (Craig exasperated her by continually calling it her 'Mistress's') or, three months later, her wedding to Craig. Craig, ten months older than Maylin, so already twenty-three, earned good money in a plush job that still promised him time 'for family'. He was what Aunt Emily, in her typical way, had called "a catch…you must court him." ("Thoroughly Auntyquated", Craig called her language).

More importantly, Craig was a great looker. Not the hunky type, but neat, slim, well-turned-out and athletic. Maylin wouldn't have dared point it out to Aunt Emily, but he did have the cutest ass, which looked super-trim in the tailored suit he wore to work. Maylin knew she wasn't the only female to notice it. She was just glad she could trust him amongst his office girls.

She could even trust him with herself. Both were brought up in a Christian fellowship that prided itself on 'no sex before marriage'. Craig, whatever the temptations, was the soul of honour.

But Maylin had been confused. A visiting preacher held a 'workshop on relationships,' practically compulsory for the under twenty-fives. He'd begun by extolling the joy of sex within marriage but proceeded to pour bile and venom over any premarital anticipation of those pleasures. So violent was he that they wondered if he really did like sex at all. His wrath was aimed at everything from the 'come-hither look' to the evils of 'heavy petting.' Even holding hands in public was a sign of lapsed morals, and a bad example to others, as well as a selfish flaunting towards the lonely and less fortunate.

But he evidently didn't represent all Christianity. Fortunately, Craig found a manual, equally Christian but far more sympathetic to young love. Its author was aware that a first wedding night after a life of celibacy can be difficult for both partners. "It is important," the author urged, "that you become acquainted with each other's bodies before the shock of the first night. It has to be allowable that in your times together, leading up to your marriage, you learn to touch each other intimately. It's especially important that the woman learns to associate her intimate parts with pleasant feelings. This is not always easy if she is suddenly subjected to sex on her wedding night."

So Maylin and Craig set aside a part of each evening together to do what, to be honest, the fire-and-brimstone preacher would have called 'heavy petting'; but with three strict rules. "Remember," the book had said. "Rules are not constraints, they are safety barriers."

Maylin came to love the petting sessions and felt secure in the triple safety of 'only touching, no undressing, and no looking'. She soon came to learn how sensitive was the organ between her thighs and wondered at the strange stirrings beneath Craig's trousers as she, less and less tentatively, touched them.

Though they kept honourably to their three rules, Maylin could not help wondering what Craig 'looked like'. In the secrecy of her bedroom, she even studied a magazine of naked men. Of all the shapes and sizes of appurtenances, what might his be like? Frustratingly, none of them showed what she'd been aware of under his pants as she fondled; an erection.

In spite of her curiosity, Maylin had great difficulty imagining herself ever letting Craig look on while she undressed. She saw herself in the mirror. No way could he ever want to see her flabby tummy and small breasts. TV adverts showed what men wanted their women to look like, and Craig, superfit Craig, would surely never settle for anything less. However much dieting she endured, she'd never look like that by the wedding night.

But the wedding night was a success. Craig didn't object to having the light out. If he'd been a blind man reading braille he could not have gleaned more enjoyment from Maylin's willing body under the sheets. As for Maylin, she was eternally grateful for the practice she'd had, learning the sensitivity of her now wondrously awakened vagina and labia. She rejoiced at her responses as Craig's fondling fingers feathered her thighs. Their intimate sessions had already been drawing mysterious oils and warm moistures from her pussy (Craig liked to call it that), and she was soon ready to receive the hard, stiff erection that her own loving hands had coaxed.

It had been worth all the wait, to feel herself encircled by Craig's arms. His embrace protected her naked body from the rest of the world, and he was free to hold it, to enjoy it, to explore it. His hands had her permission to go where they would, and her pussy was hungry to be filled by his cock, swollen with love for her. His fingers radiated nothing but appraisal and admiration for her breasts. However small she may have thought them, he registered them as firm and perfect. His hands slid over her tummy, awarding it all the praise and love that she'd withheld from it. "Dieting indeed," she teased herself.

Now his fingers entered her pussy in a way they had never done before. This time he wasn't experimenting, exploring. He was seeking out something special. He was almost more aware of it than she was herself. As he found it, she realised she should have known all her life that it was there.

Yes, it had been there, but it had taken Craig to find and awaken her clitoris. She took hold of his hand and pressed it inside her to the sensitive spots he was beginning to teach her of. Never again would she be unaware of herself; of this capacity for pleasure; for enjoyment; for ecstasy; for love.

She cried out. It was an agonised cry. The cry of someone desperate for more. Fingers would not do.

She lay on her back. She looked up as his head drew down towards her, his lips seeking hers. As their tongues communed, teasing each other, tasting each other, filling each other's mouths, so did Craig's penis commune with Maylin's vagina, filling it, seeking and finding that spot where his fingers had been; ministering to it with the tip of his cock. Soon he could no longer resist plunging it into the wet depths of her pussy. She alternately closed and opened her legs, delirious in these new sensations. Unable to make sense of them. Not needing to. Just riding her feelings as she was being ridden by her man, her possessing possession.

On the third day, Maylin's curiosity and burgeoning confidence overcame her shyness. She suggested a solution. "Craig?" she asked. "How about today we make love in the afternoon? While it's still light. I'd like us to be able to see each other. I'm so sorry I didn't want you to see me before."

No reader will need to be told how Craig replied; not the words at least, though the kiss was pretty to behold.

Trying not to regret her boldness, Maylin allowed herself to be undressed by Craig. Having her top removed by someone she loved gave her a pleasant frisson of submissiveness. She was scared when he reached for her bra, but the look of love that warmed her breast almost took her breath away. He kissed her right breast while fondling her left one as tenderly and lovingly as he'd fondled her labia in those early days.

As though something possessed him he suddenly clasped her to himself, and, with his hands around her bottom, he put his mouth to her left breast, holding it deep, his tongue racing around her areola and fluttering over her nipple. She felt dizzy. How could she have thought her breasts wouldn't satisfy him?

Now he loosened her jeans, and, hands inside them, slid them away, panties too. She was as naked as she had been once alone in front of the mirror. But how different she felt. Exposed, yes. A little scared, yes. But his love flooded over her. She felt clothed in it. He covered her with his admiring, overwhelmed gaze. It was a gaze not of cheap lust, but of wondering admiration.

How would she respond to seeing Craig equally naked?

She must find out now. Urgently she began to undo buttons. She stretched her hands over his tight, flat chest. His breathing told her he liked it. She peeled his shirt away. Now, taking a deep breath, she undid his belt. Soon she was seeing what the magazines wouldn't show her.

Craig's cock, the penis that had given her vagina such ecstasy, came exposed to her gaze. It stood straight, visibly throbbing below curling hair, a heavy sack swinging beneath it. Every bit as handsome and sensuous as the pictures had been, but hard, erect and proud. She clasped his hips and turned him around. At last, she could see that trim ass without the encumbrance of a suit. However well-cut the trousers, they'd been no improvement on nature. She turned him again, clasped the ass to herself, and felt Craig's cock press against her tummy.

They lay on the bed, playing with each other, looking; seeing for the first time. Craig explored her body anew. He stroked her thighs, back and front. He explored her ass, finding a sensitive spot he called "a sweet button." Maylin gasped, "I didn't know men were interested in that bit."

"I," breathed Craig sensuously, "am interested in every bit of you."

Maylin returned the compliment, stroking his bottom and exploring between his cheeks. She felt positively brazen as she sought his 'button' but knew she'd done the right thing by his completely unexpected groan of ecstasy. She stroked it again, and even let her finger press into it. The intensity of his cries almost frightened her.

Ten months went by and Maylin's twenty-third birthday arrived. "For two months," she taunted," you won't be able to boss me. I'm as old as you."

A large parcel came to the doorstep. Its wrapping was pink and white, with hearts, and sexy female silhouettes. She opened it, mystified. She was even more mystified when she saw the contents. A note read. "From the girls at the office. We've 'clubbed together' to help you make sure Craig behaves."

The first item looked indeed like a 'club' or a small policeman's truncheon. "What would I want with this?" she asked Craig. She received no answer but a twinkle in Craig's eye which suggested suppressed laughter.

"A box of chocolates. How lovely. But what are they?"

"Have you read the label?" asked Craig, his voice quivering.

"Anne Summers. Who's she?"

Craig took out one of the chocolates and held it symbolically in front of his trousers.

"Chocolate willies. Oh, no. What do they think of us?"

"See what else they've sent."

She delved further. "We don't play ping-pong. Why have they sent a bat?"

"It's a paddle, silly. To hit me with. Or for me to hit you."

He took it from her and raised it to her pretty behind. She gave little squeals as he chased her around the room.

She continued to raid her treasure trove. "Look, the bat has an assortment of covers. They fit on with Velcro. This looks painful." It did indeed. It presented a surface of sharp-looking rubber studs. "This looks nicer. You can spank me with this one."

It was a wad of the softest, thick white fur that would have been the pride of any chinchilla or angora rabbit. She held it to her face and kissed it.

"And now," declared Maylin, "I'm taking my box upstairs and hiding it. Tonight you will find out what else my loving friends have given me. And remember," she added, pointing a commanding finger, "It's all for your own good."

When Craig returned from work Maylin was nowhere to be seen. He called, without success. He searched every downstairs room before knocking on the bedroom door. Still, no answer.

He opened the door and entered, quietly, in case she slept. He felt the blast of wind past his ear and heard the crack of the whip, deafeningly close. He turned. There she was, behind the door, wearing nothing but red lace bra and panties, and the most wicked smile ever seen on girlish face.

Next to her was the gift box, now unwrapped, bearing the legend, "Mistress Maylin, the indomitable dominatrix."

The smile disappeared. Maylin, the indomitable dominatrix, cracked the whip again. The order, "Undress," was barked in a sharp, female voice he had never heard before. He stood, stunned, until the whiplash and the bark were repeated. For a moment he felt genuinely shy. He couldn't undress in front of this completely new manifestation of his wife. It felt like stripping for a stranger.

She wasn't yielding. He had no choice, but to strip. He removed the shirt from his back, and from the taut, toned muscles of his abdomen. His tormentor watched, determined not to be impressed, enjoying her new toys, and relishing seeing Craig in the role of plaything. She couldn't believe how boyishly shy he looked. She cracked the whip three times over his bare back. "Now the pants. You won't be needing those."

She mustn't give away how her heart was melting at the sight of him. In shock, and without a hard-on, his poor floppy dick looked so vulnerable. 'Oh, bless him, my boy,' was all she could think. How she loved him. But she had a game to play.

She continued: "Turn around. Show me your back."

Her heart gave way altogether. The sight of his ass made her feel hypnotic. Why, oh why, did people have to wear clothes all the time? Best though, or none of the girls would keep off him. No, he was hers.

But could she spank and hurt that gorgeous ass?

Of course not. But what fun it was going to be, pretending to. She collected her senses again.

Keeping her eyes from worshipping him, she took his wrists and bound them with the pair of 'gentleman-sized' handcuffs out of her box.

No way was she going to let him know about the fur-lined 'lady-sized' handcuffs till she felt ready. Nor must he see the 'Handbook of Sex Games,' though he would soon be undergoing one.

He reacted meekly to her inevitable, "Down!" Bent over the bed, his ass looked more tempting than ever. It just asked to be either beaten or kissed.

She began by paddling him (far too gently) with the vicious-looking sharp rubber studs.

"No. No, Mistress. Please," he played along, a comical quasi-fear in his voice.

She replaced the studs with a plain, ping-pong type cover to the bat, and spanked him moderately hard.

Then she could resist no more. She took her bare hand and slapped one buttock, then the other. He cried out in mock pain, but she could hear the pleasure in his voice. It turned into a purr when the slapping hand stayed on his ass, slipped between his cheeks, along past his 'button', stroked his balls and feathered the underside of his cock. Wow, his dick was hard. He liked it; a boner like that there was no disguising.

"How dare you enjoy your punishment!" She tried to shout but she could only giggle. She couldn't disguise her pleasure any more than he could.

She continued to spank him in mock exasperation.

God, what a firm ass. Maylin's bum would be wobbling like a jelly if he spanked her like that. "No," thought Maylin, with a shudder. "Not if. When." She would have to give him a replay. What was she letting herself in for?

Her free afternoon, memorising the toys' accompanying 'Handbook of Games' had not been wasted. She took up the paddle again.

"Now, servant. On your unworthy bottom, I'm going to tap out the rhythms of five well-known tunes. If you identify them all, you get to eat a chocolate willie. If you fail on so much as one, I get to eat a real willie."

Craig succeeded in all five. He was granted a milk chocolate dick. Maylin sat herself opposite on the bed and made him watch while she ate one. She curled a seductive tongue around its tip, savoured its shaft with sensuous delight; then viciously crunched the balls between her teeth. Craig winced horribly.

She played another round. This time Craig failed two. Because of the handcuffs, Maylin helped him to stand, turn around and lie supine on the bed, hands underneath him, his unusually full erection prominent and vulnerable.

She bent down and took it deep in her mouth. Slowly, and sucking hard, she released it with a satisfied sound. Then she tasted its tip with her tongue, teasing it with fast flicking touches. "Mmmm. Best cock I've tasted this week," she said. She held it tight between her lips, and shook her head, worrying the dick as a dog worries a bone. Judging by his sounds, she was driving Craig into seventh heaven.

She scared him by approaching his balls with her mouth, exactly as she'd approached the chocolate ones before her teeth mercilessly chomped them. But he needn't have feared. She took each ball carefully into her mouth, then released it and bestowed a conciliatory kiss, that sent Craig's mind spiralling into goodness knew what realms of happiness.

His cock grew bigger and bigger. "You disgusting beast," she said, trying to sound mistressly, but choking with laughter. He was lying there, so helpless, his erection standing up out of its curly bush for all to see. Should she take its photo and send it to the girls with her thankyou letter? How embarrassed he'd be, poor thing.

But mistresses don't say 'poor thing'. She raised herself up, knelt astride his supine form, and looked down on him with all the sternness she could muster. She was going to save him embarrassment by covering his 'shame' with the one thing that would engulf it. 

On second thoughts, there was something else that might cover it. He'd said how sweet her ''little button was. Mistresses were allowed to experiment. She sat over him. Instead of aligning her pussy over his cock, she raised her ass, finding her 'button' and touched the tip of his penis with it. Yes, it did give her a tingle. She pressed down. But somehow it wasn't going to work. She'd need a bit of help from Craig to make it come right. 

Not now though. Mistress Maylin, indomitable dominatrix, does not plead help from her victims. That would have to wait for another time, enticing though the thought was. She was beginning to realise, too, why the box contained a mysterious dildo, with straps attached. Yes, life was going to become decidedly interesting thanks to her office friends. She was feeling tingly, horny, excited, before her pussy had even touched Craig's cock. She felt dizzy with sex.

 "Slave," she ordered, "my pussy is thirsty. You have milk to give her. She is coming for it. If you don't give it to her she will eat you."

"Very well," came the submissive reply. "Be it as you wish."

She sat over him. The seemingly shy boy meekly allowed his cock to be swallowed up into her femininity. He gave an almost unbearable cry of ecstasy as Mistress Maylin drew the milk of exhilaration from him, to slake her own thirst for the euphoria of togetherness.

When they recovered their senses, Maylin showed Craig the rest of the box's contents. His eyes gleamed at the furry handcuffs and glazed with mock fear over the strap-on dildo.

The plans they made for their use would be sure to take them far into the second year of their marriage.