The story continues. Rejoicing in her submission, she embraces experiences she could only imagine before.

Saturday - Role Play & Massage

She awoke feeling extremely horny, the crude word the only one capable of describing her barely containable lust.

Aware that she was completely alone, she brushed her hand over her pubis, welcoming the immediate response from her needy clit.

But then she remembered where she was, why she had come and what he had ordered, pulling back her fingers quickly as she heard the knock on her door.

"The bathroom is free if you need it. Don't forget your gown and slippers, I've put all your other clothes away."

She realised with horror what that meant. Not only had she slept in the nude, she would have no choice about what she would wear that day or for how long.

Breakfast things set aside, it was time to plan the scene. They had discussed different role plays: landlord and his student tenant unable to pay the rent, landowner and eco-warrior tresspasser caught liberating his gamebirds, boss and secretary, Headmaster - schoolgirl. The last had been appealing, but he had misgivings, an adult-adult interaction would feel better.

"How about this?" he mused. "He's the Headmaster of an extremely successful if somewhat traditional school, rated 'Outstanding' by Ofsted. She's a newly appointed lecturer in the local university's Department of Education, in the school to supervise a student on teaching practice."

"She has her own radical ideas, derived from her PhD research into Summerhill, the educational community made famous in the 1960s as the epitomy of free expression. Appalled by the rigid formality of the lesson she is observing, she chooses to take over. Chaos ensues, the other teachers are obliged to intervene. The Headmaster is forced to act."

She paused to consider, "I've heard of Summerhill, not everyone was in favour. Questions were asked about the sexual interactions and bullying between children of different ages and there were diffulties in re-integrating the young people into higher education and society. Tell me more about my character."

He laughed, "she couldn't be more different to the responsible, reliable, 'steady at the helm' person you're obliged to be elsewhere. Nothing prim and proper about her. A true throwback to the sixties, a real wildchild, at one with nature, poetic, artistic, young at heart, a free spirit."

She was stunned by her reaction to his description. Though appalled at this trouble-causer's evident lack of responsibility with regards to her position as a tutor of student teachers, this educator's character was so very appealing. She wanted to be her, if only for the duration of this scene. To experience her freedom was something she could, elsewhere, only imagine. Here, with him, she could live it.

But then a delicious thought came to mind, "But she has a secret, one she hardly dare admit, even to herself. All through her childhood her father was either away on business or occupied at the golf club. Mum, often exhausted, running the home on her own, more or less let her daughter do as she wished. This 'wild child' secretly craves the guidance and even discipline which she believes can only be provided by an older man, a father figure perhaps, even," she smiled, her eyes catching his, "an uncle."

Inspired by her excellent addition, he could only state the obvious, "The Headmaster, of course, fits the bill perfectly."

His dressing up wardrobe and fabrics basket provided her with a long purple skirt, free-flowing and diaphonous. She was alarmed to discover that the only knickers he allowed her amounted to little more than a thong. She was denied tights, stockings or even pop socks. He also decided that her character would not, as a matter of principle, wear a bra, so she wore her floaty fly-up top with nothing underneath, a silk scarf she had discovered pinned across her shoulders and chest, like a shawl.

Feeling more naked than if she'd been unclothed, she waited in the kitchen as she'd been instructed for her appointment with the Headmaster, using the beads she'd also found to occupy her fingers and distract her from what was to come.

His reaction had been positive: "A very nice ensemble, it suits your character well. Perhaps I'll take you out for a drink later," an idea that horrified her, as she pictured herself sitting in a busy pub on a Saturday night, dressed or rather undressed, as she was. Alarmed, she turned to face him, relieved to see his wicked grin, even he wouldn't be that cruel. However his last comment as he went to change left a shadow of doubt in her mind, "no, I don't think so, unless I decide that your chastened bottom deserves wider appreciation."

"Chastened bottom". The words reverberated as he opened the door and astounded her by inviting her to sit on the leather sofa rather than leave her standing, as she'd anticipated. Perhaps he had been kidding, after all.

He in turn stood gazing at the bookshelves, his hands suggesting that he was praying for guidance. His mind made up, he cleared his throat before speaking, turning towards her quickly, his gaze now fixed completely on her.

"I want to understand the situation fully, before I decide what sanctions you will face - Ms Starlight, isn't it?"

She looked puzzled before remembering the further alteration to their script. Her character had changed her name by deed poll on her 19th birthday as a sign of rebellion.

"Yes, Headmaster."

He looked pleased with her, as if she was visiting him to receive a commendation not, as she dreaded, some kind of punishment.

His smile vanished in a millisecond.

"So Ms Starlight, can you explain why there was a riot on the Year 13 corridor yesterday morning?"

She blushed, stuttering.

"Not a riot exactly, everything was under control."

Clearly unimpressed, his monologue accelerated as he worked towards the final crescendo.

"But not under YOUR control. Three other lessons were interrupted so that order could be restored. Valuable lessons, well-prepared by professional teachers engaging with their well-motivated pupils, everyone committed to maximise their talents and interests. Were the students in your care, 'well-motivated and committed'? Had you even planned the lesson, prepared thoroughly, aware of the learning environment, clear about outcomes and targets? Or were you simply MAKING IT UP AS YOU WENT ALONG?"

She tried and failed to speak. It was all true, she'd wanted to be spontaneous, be led by the young people's interests. But it had all gone horribly wrong. They'd taken advantage of her laxity, gone feral.

Wow, she realised, she was really getting into this. The shame was no longer her character's alone. She felt awful, in need of this good man's approval. She wanted to please him, but she'd failed miserably. What could she do to earn his favour once again?

Clearly a mindreader, he plotted her course home.

"Your silence speaks volumes. Your remorse is written all over your face. There is, after all, hope for you, though not, alas, in this school. I shall write my report emphasising your willingness to learn your lesson. Are you willing to learn your lesson, Ms Starlight?"

Her gratitude got the better of her as she responded with enthusiasm: "Yes, Uncle, I mean Headmaster, I'm very willing to learn my lesson."

"Amber. So, my little sub, are you willing to submit to a spanking at my hands? Answer freely, we are no longer in character."

Glowing with being called by yet another pet name, she nodded enthusiastically.

"You must ask for what you want, say the words aloud."

She panicked, neither as Ms Starlight nor as her herself had she expected this. It wasn't enough to accept what he offered, she had to ASK for it.

"Please, Uncle Paul, will you spank me?"

"You know the rules. Where will you be spanked?"

"On my bottom?"

"On your BARE bottom. Now, ask for what you want properly."

Her humiliation was complete. Yet at the same time she was thrilled. All those times when she imagined what would happen if her junior colleagues knew her true nature; all those moments when she pictured her youngest secretary bending her over her desk, lifting her skirt and giving her a walloping, could they now be coming true?

All of her dreams of submission were being realised this incredibly intense weekend, just as he'd promised. She had chosen her Dominant well, Uncle Paul would be the one to show her who she truly was.

She looked up, almost overwhelmed by his encouraging smile. The unspoken message was clear, "you must do this, we both know you need to."

She decided that Ms Starlight should answer: "Yes, Headmaster, I must learn my lesson. Will you please spank me on my bare bottom?"

He grinned broadly, before slipping back into role.

"Very well. Over my knee you must go."

Even hearing the words made her heart beat faster. Last night's spanking had been playful, comforting. This would be something different, perhaps more severe, undoubtedly more sexual.

As he spoke, he helped her up, giving her a reassuring cuddle before inviting her to take her place on the blue leather. He patted his lap meaningfully, speaking those fate-filled words, "assume the position."

Her skirt was voluminous, but hid very little. Taking full advantage of her vulnerable position, he smothed his hands down her back to her waist, then down her legs, carefully avoiding the area in between. Fed up of denying himself the pleasure, he began again, this time including her bottom, though not lingering. His third caress was different, travelling quickly down her back until he reached her bum which he rubbed and massaged, gently at first and then more strongly, clearly delighted by what his fingers were telling him.

Her intial trepidation forgotten, she moaned as she felt him possess her. She rejoiced in his touch, the unbelievable sense of rightness consuming her. This is where she was meant to be: safe, cared for, controlled.

"Yes, a good, spankable bottom. I shall enjoy this. But now I need to see my target uncovered."

He had her stand before him as he remained seated, his hands positioned perfectly to lift the hem and explore underneath her skirt. Once again her senses threatened to overwhelm her, the sheer audacity of his movements reminding her of his power over her. Without warning, her emotions got the better of her. She desperately wanted to feel his mouth on her pussy, albeit through layers of polyester. Of course, she dare not, he was the one in command, not her.

Relinquishing his hold, he instructed her to grasp the bottom of it herself.

"I want you to turn with your back to me and then raise your skirt slowly until it reaches just above your knees. Then hold it, standing perfectly still."

She knew him now, it was more of his teasing. Every inch she exposed would be given his full attention. She shivered, anticipating his touch or his tongue.

He used neither, choosing instead to blow softly on the back of her ankles, her calves, her knees.

For the first time since before breakfast she remembered how aroused she had been as she awoke. Standing to attention though she was, she felt the first leak of lubrication from between her thighs. He must have detected it too, she realised in despair, his indrawing of breath and satisfied murmur proof positive that, from him, no secrets were hidden.

"Higher. To the tops of your thighs."

She felt the smack on the back of her legs, uncertain of his reasoning until he spoke.

"Slowly. I'm enjoying the striptease."

Was that what she had become? A stripper, a pole dancer, a whore? A woman using her very last resource, her body, to feed her children, pay the bills?

Liberal Ms Starlight would uphold the rights of sex-workers, be their advocate, call them sisters. But what about her? Was she so very different from them, allowing him this freedom with her body just to please him? Her answer shocked her. Yes, very different. They had no choice, this, for her, had been a well-considered decision. Or was she, in fact, merely a slave to her submissive desires?

He was silent, he was looking. What was he thinking, planning, desiring? She felt the slightest touch on her thighs, he was widening her stance. Shuffling awkwardly, she fought to maintain her balance.

"And now above your waist. Take your time, there's lots to admire."

There was a lot of material too! Her hands now full, she wondered how long she could keep the skirt in place as he'd ordered.

Again, he was two steps ahead. From out of nowhere he produced a strap, a belt and with her help created a waistband under which she could tuck the fabric... leaving her almost completely naked from her waist down, her only protection the flimsiest of underwear.

The scissors were cold, yet it was his words that chilled her to the core.

"These need to be cut off. Don't move."

For a moment she was terrified. Could she trust him to use something so sharp, so near to her pussy? She decided not to safeword.

He found the narrowest part of the thong and lifted it away from her body just enough to allow the blades of the safety scissors access. He seemed to wait forever before she heard the snip.

"Resume your position."

Bare-arsed, she now felt everything more keenly. Even the lightest smack reverberated deep within her. She expected the rubbing, it was his trademark, but now his fingers seemed free to touch her... anywhere, anywhere he chose. He seemed to focus on the base of her spine and between her buttocks, sending shock waves throughout her nervous system. Then he began to move lower.

Smack

She jolted, emitting a brief, "oooh".

It wasn't that hard, but somehow she'd forgotten the purpose of the exercise, her chastisement.

Now he began in earnest. Smack, rub, touch. Smack, rub, touch. Smack, rub...

Where was the touch? Oh God, he was trailing a finger up her inner thigh, parting her lips, finding her wetness.

She swayed, trying to encourage him, provoke his finger further inside her. The next strikes were harder, without rubbing. She understood - she'd better accept that he was in charge of her body or expect to be reminded, painfully.

These were beginning to hurt.

"Please... no more... stop."

"Is stop your safeword?"

"No..."

She hesitated, he spanked her twice more on each cheek. He patted her hot flesh kindly. She relaxed, he rubbed, she sighed.

"What's your colour?"

Her answer came slowly, as if through fog. "Green, Sir, so very green."

Her subspace clearly apparent, at least to him, he decided she needed time to process, a change of posture, but first her reward, she'd taken her spanking well.

"Part your legs."

As she did so, his fingers returned to her wettest place, not to tantalise this time, but to grant her the orgasm she'd been longing for ever since he'd edged her so cruelly the evening before.

Taking his time, prolonging her pleasure, he used her moisture to push deeper into her pussy than ever before. So well-lubricated was she that a second finger was quickly able to join the first. Now he could reach not one, but two sets of nerve endings. As he rotated his digits she began to lose control, her juices flowing freely. Noticing her abundant wetness, he added a third, forming his fingers into a tight bundle, stretching her pussy as he began thrusting in and out, twisting and turning, so that she felt as if she was being ravaged by a monstrous penis.

She had never experienced such intensity, such fullness, such overpowering sensations ever before. Unable to stop herself screaming, she was horrified to feel the drips on her legs - had she peed herself?

Seeing her distress, his voice was warm and reassuring.

"Congratulations. I take it that that was the first time you've squirted."

She gasped, audibly.

"I've read about it. I thought it was a myth."

She reached down with her hand.

"I've made a mess: the sofa, your trousers..."

"... can all be cleaned, easily. Thank you for sharing this moment with me, you...you rampant retrobate. I have a towel, let's make you more comfortable."

She lapsed into a pleasant stupor as he mopped, covering her with a blanket as she recovered.

His voice seemed to come from far away.

"Time for a break, my darling sub. Let's stand you in that corner. Don't move until I can support you."

He was right, her legs were like rubber, she felt almost dizzy. Even the task of standing and navigating the furniture was beyond her.

She was grateful for the wall's support, though he wasn't ready to make things too easy for her.

"Put your hands on your head, part your legs and push your bottom out, I want to admire my handiwork."

She suddenly felt absolutely ridiculous. A grown woman, a woman used to giving orders, being waited on even, told to display her smacked bum like, no, not a naughty child, like an actor in a smutty porn film. Ridiculous, but so very tingly. Here, in this place, in this position, she felt at home, for the first time in years.

Calling 'amber', he helped her to find her way to the bathroom. Closing the door, he assured her that he was only just outside. Strangely she felt not embarrassed, but grateful, her mind still struggling to focus. It took all of her concentration to stand up and wash her hands.

Back at the kitchen table, wrapped in her dressing gown, she was determined to express her gratitude. She felt wonderful: so well, so happy. She reached forward, desperate to kiss him. Momentarily startled, he recovered quickly, pushing his own lips against hers.

He chuckled. "It's called 'subspace'. I don't understand it completely, but I believe that spanking releases the body's own version of morphine. Hence the feeling of being 'high'. I once experienced it 'post-op'. For the first time in my life I understood why people take drugs. So you need looking after, we call it 'aftercare'. There's plenty of tea and coffee, sugary drinks, cakes and biscuits, even chocolate or crisps - whatever you fancy. What I won't allow you is alcohol, you're spaced out enough already. Oh, and let me put this blanket around you. The shivers is a very common reaction."

She looked at him across the table, clutching her coffee cup to keep herself warm, her face positively glowing, her bottom, not sore, but deliciously hot. "I feel so very turned on! I want to fuck you!"

He looked at her, serious for a moment. "And I want to make love to you too, but we established boundaries, remember and it's my job as your Dominant to adhere to them strictly. Besides, my dear, just at the moment you're in no state to take such big decisions. I once tried to drive whilst in subspace, not a good idea."

"Instead, it's time to think about next steps. As I mentioned in our planning this morning, I do have some implements I'd like you to experience. In many ways now would be a good time, since your body is well warmed up," he paused as he heard her sigh, "but if we did, it wouldn't be so much a spanking as sensation play. Just a chance to know what they feel like. Everyone has their preferences, you might even find one that you like."

"On the other hand, you may feel you've had quite enough and would rather leave my toys for another time. Either way I promised you a massage, whatever you decide. You've certainly earned it."

She beamed as she felt his pride. He was pleased with her and, to be honest, she was pleased with herself. Even a few weeks ago the idea of being spanked was a total 'no-no'. As she'd told him, she wasn't into pain. Thanks to him, she'd allowed herself this amazing experience. In so many ways her mind was being opened wider every day.

"So, a few implements used lightly, as we discussed? You told me earlier, when were chatting online, that you'd experienced every one yourself, that you'd been someone else's sub?"

"I prefer, 'Bottom'. I'm what they call a 'Switch'. I enjoy both roles, but I'm primarily a Dom. But yes, I've had every one of them used on my own backside!"

"So will you choose for me?"

"Everyone is different so I can't be certain what you'll like. So I'll use ones that give contrasting sensations and we'll both see how you react. I think you're now in the right headspace to decide. So, implements or straight to the massage?"

She answered without hesitation, "implements please. I can't wait."

Back in the study, he led her to a brown chesterfield sofa.

"Over the knee is very intimate and provides a lot of bodily contact, allowing a Dom to monitor their sub closely. But for these we need more space, so I'd like you bent over the arm of the settee. First let's bring back the colour to your cheeks."

But before he could begin, it was she who called, 'amber'.

"Can I have a cushion please, my boobs feel rather squashed?"

He seemed gratified rather than offended.

"Well done. That's exactly what 'amber' should be used for. You're really getting into kink now, aren't you."

Once she was comfortable he steadily re-warmed her bottom, before picking up the first implement.

"This is a leather paddle. It'll feel cold on the skin to start with, but it's my personal favourite."

It felt a bit stingy, she decided, and it certainly gave a stronger sensation than his hand, but after her initial trepidation, she found herself quite liking it.

However she knew immediately that she hated the ruler. It just hurt!

The plimsoll felt ridiculous, so much noise for so very little impact. Still, she appreciated the way it curved around her bottom and, again, she decided, she'd like more of that one on another occasion.

"The last one is a wooden paddle covered in leather. It can give a very strong thud if used with force, which, if I'm in subspace, I like a lot. But today I'm going to use it lightly. Just six of these, three on each cheek. Count them for me please."

As it landed, she called out, "one".

She quickly understood what he meant. This was a very different sensation. She felt it deep in her muscles. A moderate sting, but then a thump and the aftermath was strangely satisfying.

"Two."

She noticed something else too. Whereas the ruler in particular stung sharply, the hurt then fading rapidly, the wooden paddle's blows seemed to accumulate.

"Three"

He spoke kindly, "You're half way through. You're doing really well."

She was grateful to hear that, this was becoming a bit of a challenge.

"Fffoouurrr".

Instantly her voice told him that she was struggling. It was time to stop.

He spoke loudly and clearly: "Red."

Her first reaction was acute disappointment, there were still two more to come. But then she knew why she could trust him. He really cared for her, he knew her limits better than she did and despite the plans they'd both agreed, he knew his job and took his responsibility seriously.

They hugged and kissed for several minutes before he decided to introduce her to arnica.

"It's a herbal remedy used to prevent bruising. Some think it's a waste of time, but personally, even the act of spreading cold gel over hot, spanked cheeks is an act of pure love and devotion."

She could only agree, he was clearly devoted to her wellbeing. Once again, she was so glad to be there, with him.

He needed a few moments to set up things for the massage so he asked her if there was something she'd like to do for a while, perhaps read a book in her room, have a nap or get in touch with her friends.

"Just at the moment I want to be with you, even help if I can."

She could tell he was pleased.

"Right, first task, warm up the room. The thermostat's in the kitchen, it needs to go up a few degrees. Then we need to make some space and put up the table. I can do it on my own, but it's easier with two."

In fact she enjoyed working with him, doing things that seemed almost ordinary, domestic. She'd already decided that washing up the breakfast things was her job.

The final tasks were covering the table and selecting the massage oil. She also noticed the bottle of lube.

"What's this? I thought the sexual stuff came tomorrow?"

It was his turn to blush: "You never know, it might come in handy."

Not only did they use a blanket to put over the table, he added some old towels, 'just in case' as he put it. With a few cushions to make her more comfortable and the room temperature improved with a fan heater, he helped her onto the table, she lying on her front.

She had had massages before. But this was so much better. For one thing she was naked, so he could sweep his oiled hands all the way down her body and focus on those bits usually hidden by towels.

As he'd promised, he paid particular attention to her bottom, not just the large muscle groups, but her 'ins and outs', not in a blatantly sexual way, but with a casual intimacy that was more subtly arousing, signalling once again that she had given her whole body to him, to be used as he pleased. Nor was she embarrassed by her nudity in front of him, any longer. He clearly adored her form and, without either of them saying a word about her body, she felt a new self-confidence.

It was so soporific and whatever stresses she had left after her spanking were soon gone. She simply, 'let go'.

Which is why he had to wake her before he could invite her to turn over. Not an easy task after such a demanding day, but, yet again they worked together, not as sub and Dom, but as close friends.

Now he could glory in her breasts. As before, his touch was not intended to arouse, but to soothe. Nonetheless he made her feel extremely sexy, manipulating her boobs with loving care, smoothing the oil over them in a way that replicated a baby suckling, drawing down her milk.

But then he moved to her stomach and the folds of skin she was ashamed she possessed. Instead of ignoring this part of her, she spent even longer there than on her chest. He used his thumbs to fondle her flesh, the backs of his hands to carresss the hills and his fingers to explore the valleys.

Her groin, like her bottom, was treated primarily as a place where strong and important muscles needed warming and stretching.

However he couldn't remain completely indifferent to her labia and, as she remarked with a grin, "no lube was required," a comment which was received with a knowing smile.

Legs and feet were carefully manipulated and, again, she was soon nodding off to sleep.

"This is called the nappy position," those six words the only warning she received before he grabbed her ankles and lifted her feet into the air.

Struggling to remain on the table, she wasn't ready for his next instruction: "grab the back of your thighs and widen your legs." This forced her to pull her legs back, leaving her obscenely exposed.

"I omitted to massage here," he announced, before squirting the lube on his fingers and inserting first one and then, unbelievably, two fingers just inside her rectum.

"Just preparing you for tomorrow, my darling sub."

In fact he did take her out for a meal, though only after he'd collected her bag for her from the Unicorn room whilst she had a long shower, "on your own, this time," he commented, as she made her way to the bathroom.

"This my treat," he told her, ordering a second bottle of wine, "you were absolutely fantastic today. You far surpassed all my expectations. Do you realise what you've achieved? You really are..." his voice dropping to a whisper, "a most excellent submissive."

As he paid the taxi she used her keys to unlock the door and set about brewing some coffee. There was no need for much conversation, their heads full of the day's events.

"No more surprises today and tomorrow is your graduation. I shall serve you, sensually and sexually. Tomorrow I will be responsible for your pleasure, your only task to relax and enjoy."

"After today's hard work, I think we deserve a lie-in. So, up at 9 am and I would like to treat us to a cooked breakfast - there's an excellent café that opens on Sundays. We can regard it as brunch and play before 12 noon. There'll be time for lots of fun in the afternoon and a nap before a quick tea, as I know you want to drive home tomorrow evening."

"Yes, an early start on Monday, sadly."

They went to bed soon afterwards, kissing at the foot of the stairs.

"Sweet dreams, Uncle Paul."

"Night, night, my so very dearest sub. "