A Tale of the Unexpected

[mistermarkham]

A Tale of the Unexpected
A short story by Penman
—  —
The two couples, until recently relative strangers to each other, had spent a very enjoyable, energetic and refreshing weekend together under the vast, cloudless skies and endless landscapes of Northumberland and were now heading back South to re-engage with their various pursuits with renewed enthusiasm and with considerably enhanced knowledge of each other.
That was how the script was supposed to have run. The reality was slightly different - at least with regard to certain aspects!
—  —
It had been mid-September. John and Julie, both feeling the effects of a very exhausting day in their respective workplaces, were chatting about their forthcoming venture with their new friends Mike and Helen, whom they had met through an online community made up of individuals of all descriptions who shared enjoyment of a somewhat individual form of social practice. Their meetings with Mike and Helen had gone even better than they had expected, to the point where all four of them had felt that it would be great to get away for a long weekend together and to enjoy another shared interest - fell-walking. Given their intimate knowledge of Northumberland, where Julie had spent many a summer holiday with her family during childhood and adolescence, she and John had highly recommended a beautiful remote location not all that far from Alnwick, where an isolated building had been converted very tastefully into an extremely comfortable and well-equipped pied-à-terre for fell-walkers. They had decided that they would all travel North in John's off-road vehicle. A scan of the long-range weather forecast for Northumberland had suggested that there was likely to be an Indian summer at the end of the first week in October, so they had booked a four-night stay at Hepburn Bothy, where they knew that their new friends would have the best chance of feeling relaxed and comfortable and where they would be able to see which way their new-found friendship would take them all.
As Julie outlined her thoughts on who should have which rooms and as John exercised his mind in anticipating the logistical demands of the trip, their thoughts were only partially focussed on the 10 o'clock news, but they did see enough for John to comment, with no hint of cynicism – in response to a news item featuring hurricane Amethyst, that was expected to knock seven bells out of the Gulf of Mexico and the southern coast of the USA – that he could not understand why people would want to go to the Caribbean in the hurricane season. He went on to add that we should be thankful that we are spared such climatic excesses in the UK. Julie, who was close to succumbing to the allure of waiting Morpheus' arms, nodded in half-hearted concurrence with her partner's comment.
—  —
 
The plan had been to get away mid-morning on the Thursday and to be clear of the Newcastle-upon-Tyne western bypass before the evening rush-hour started. The plan had gone well and there had even been talk of an early arrival at the Bothy until they became victims of a combination of impatience and bad temper, commonly referred to as 'road rage', that had led ten minutes earlier to the complete closure of the northbound A1 at the Ripon/Thirsk exit. This had meant that the travellers had ended up following a hastily devised diversion that brought them back onto the Great North Road at Leeming Bar. By the time they passed The Angel of the North, traffic in all northbound lanes was already moving at a slow crawl, as a combination of tired homeward-bound Geordies and informed consumers descending upon the Metrocentre created a traffic jam that stretched almost all the way to Morpeth, where, inexplicably, the road suddenly became clear again and John was able to put his trusty vehicle through its paces with little in the way of obstacles until they left the A1 and headed into Alnwick to refuel and to make any last minute purchases that they had remembered during the journey.
By the time they turned off the B6346, on the final leg of their journey, it was already dark, but Julie's and John's detailed knowledge of the area meant that no time was lost in negotiating the final few miles up the long single-track road leading to Hepburn Bothy. Despite having been shown many photographs of the area and, in particular, of the Bothy itself, Helen was feeling somewhat apprehensive and Mike was quick to pick up on her diminishing confidence. He squeezed her hand in reassuring comfort as the Bothy finally came into view in the headlights and the car pulled up between the main building and an outhouse. Helen's confidence was lifted, to some extent, by the fact that the arrival of the vehicle triggered the security lights, which lit the front of the house and the area where they had parked very effectively.
Julie headed straight for the house and invited Helen to go with her. It was only a matter of moments before the two women were in the vestibule and the inside and outside lights were switched on. Helen's confidence was further boosted as she took stock of the very comfortable furnishings in the house and of the warmth that greeted them as they arrived, for the faithful Mrs MacIver had, as promised, been in to check that the oil-fired central heating system was switched on and to place fresh milk in the fridge. As Julie showed Helen to her and Mike's room, the men started to bring in the luggage and the food supplies. In fact, it was not long before they were all seated round the heavy oak dining table, enjoying a very welcome casserole that Helen had prepared and that had not suffered in any way from the journey. Neither, for that matter, had the bottles of Rioja that washed a very enjoyable meal down. Gradually, Helen's apprehensions faded into the background - but they did not disappear completely.
The late news on BBC2 had been unremarkable, but there was considerable coverage of clean-up operations in the tri-state area on the eastern seaboard of the USA, where, contrary to predictions, Amethyst – enjoying inexplicably renewed vigour – had knocked far more than seven bells out of anything that had stood in her destructive path at the end of the previous week.
In contrast to the meteorological chaos wrought by Amethyst, the prospects for the British Isles looked good into Friday and Saturday, with prolonged periods of sunshine and above-average temperatures for the time of year. However, the weatherman did sound a note of caution, explaining that the tail end of Amethyst had caused a virtual lock-down in southern Greenland and Iceland – but this information went over the heads of the four weary travellers, who decided that their 'get-to-know-you' weekend could start properly after breakfast on the Friday morning, so the two couples headed in their respective directions and it was only a matter of minutes before total silence, apart from the occasional call from the local owl outside and gentle snoring within, enveloped the Bothy.
—  —
Friday was one of those days on which the real beauty of the Cheviots can be witnessed in its full autumnal glory; in addition to walking several miles over rough terrain, all four friends had also made extensive use of their digital cameras. Walking home after a very enjoyable lunch at Chatton had proved something of a challenge, but they eventually returned to the Bothy at dusk and nobody had the energy to do anything other than enjoy a hot shower, a good supper and a short conversation over glasses of brandy before heading for bed.
Saturday saw the friends in a very different setting, as they walked under yet another beautiful sky, in warm sunlight, from Seahouses to Bamburgh and on to Waren Mill, enjoying the virtual emptiness of the enormous beach and looking out towards the Farne Islands, where the state of a very tame North Sea was a far cry – at least for the present – from the vicious weather that had led Grace Darling to achieve her status as a true heroine. John was no slacker where detailed planning was concerned and thus it was that the four well-travelled walkers, revitalised by a taste of delicious sea food at Bamburgh en route, arrived at Waren Mill just a few minutes before the X18 'bus arrived, Newcastle-bound, to take them back to their waiting car at Seahouses.
—  —
Plans for Sunday had deliberately been left fluid and nobody regretted the decision – upon which all agreed on the Saturday evening – to have a day at the Bothy. Such was their state of weariness after dinner on the Saturday that the full impact of the weather forecast did not sink in, but John was sufficiently alert to do a tour of the building to make sure that everything was secure. The branches in the trees at the back of the Bothy were exhibiting somewhat livelier movement than had been the case when the group returned from Seahouses and there was not a creature to be seen, on the ground or in the air. He and Julie had seen days end like this in the past and a sense of slight unease began to develop, but this was counteracted to some extent by thoughts of the time that they were all planning to spend together the following day. Both of them were beginning to be more aware of feelings of the type that had led to their initial online encounter with Helen and Mike, both of whom, whilst less aware of the significance of the changes outside, were also thinking more deeply about the following day – Mike with growing eagerness as he contemplated Julie, whom he had been observing discreetly during their rambles, and Helen with a little more caution, but also aware that she had not been unaffected by the very positively dominant attributes and physical attractiveness of John. What surprised her was how she had found herself looking at Julie in a way that was not entirely different from that in which her partner had been looking at that same woman, not that he – or she – was aware of this - yet!
As the early evening weatherman gave news of the unpredicted change of track detected in the movement of the vestigial Amethyst storm, which had led to complete isolation of the Faeroe Islands and to warnings of winds reaching storm force 10 over the eastern coast of the British Isles, down as far as the Tyne, the friends were beginning to address the secondary purpose of their visit to Northumbria in greater detail. They were all fast asleep when the unheard monotone crystal clear voice of the announcer who read out the Shipping Forecast gave the ominous news of storm force 10 winds, increasing to violent storm, force 11, in sea areas Fair Isle, Cromarty, Forth and Tyne. Noises outside the Bothy confirmed the rapidly-deteriorating situation, but the thickness of the walls – designed for the worst that the Cheviot weather can throw at inhabitants – combined with the effectiveness of the double-glazing meant that all four occupants sank ever deeper into sleep as the rain began to pelt the windows horizontally.
A very small piece of sealant running along the top of one of the fascia boards on the outbuilding had worked loose – not a great problem under normal conditions, but when lying in the path of a storm of the ferocity of Amethyst's malign offspring, such a defect becomes the breach in defences that allows such forces to do their worst. Sure enough, the up-draught from the howling wind as it hit the side of the outhouse was sufficient to create access for the rain and the wind beneath the eaves and within a matter of minutes, one of the tiles began to lift under a force sufficient to lift a small aircraft into the air.
It was not the sound of the storm that awoke John, who had been sleeping lightly since around 2 a.m., when he heard the increasing severity of the storm outside, but the sound made by three heavy slates as they struck metalwork and then moved on to collide with the side of the Bothy. John jumped quickly out of bed and moved speedily to the southern end of the property. A hum was just audible in the wind, confirming John's fears that the electricity supply had been cut off and that the generator had started up automatically. Despite the brightness of the security lighting, John could not assess the extent of the damage, but he knew better than to venture outside in winds that had reached a point at which Met. Office predictions were nearly exceeded. His guess of a force 10 storm was only slightly on the conservative side.
From what he could see, John believed that the windows in the car were all intact, but he was greatly concerned about the roof on the outbuilding and so it was that he remained at that end of the Bothy until the first streaks of grey appeared on the horizon.
—  —
Julie, Mike and Helen were astonished by the sights and sounds that greeted them when they awoke, with the gradually abating storm still pounding the Bothy as it tore off eastwards across the North Sea, towards Northern Germany and Denmark. John looked tired, but was still very alert and as soon as he believed it was safe to do so, he wrapped himself up in heavy-duty waterproof clothing and went out to inspect the damage. He could scarcely believe his eyes. The three large tiles had gouged out deep tracks across the bodywork of the off-roader and had hurled themselves against the Bothy, where they had shattered, leaving debris strewn in a trail of devastation. More worryingly, a fairly substantial log that had, unknown to the visitors, been left outside accidentally when winter fuel supplies were being sawn, had been blown end-on into the front offside wheel arch. It was obvious that this was a vehicle that was going nowhere in the immediate future. John tried to unlock the vehicle, but the electrical locking system failed to respond. He then used his key in the conventional lock to gain access, only to discover that the courtesy light was not working. He inserted the key into the ignition and turned it. There was no response whatsoever. At that point, John realised that the vehicle was going to have to be towed away.
—  —

By 2 o'clock, it was difficult to tell from the sky that Amethyst had visited, neither did the well-established woodland betray too much, apart from a few branches that had been strewn around. It had soon become clear that mobile telecomms. had taken a heavy toll in the storm, for not one of the group could find a signal at first. However, by lunchtime, John was able to request help from the motoring organisation, but it became apparent that this might take some time to arrive, since there had been two landslides on the only road leading out of the area and it was not expected that traffic would be able to pass until mid-day on Monday at the earliest.
—  —
As the proverb says, it's an ill wind that blows nobody good and, with no worries about the power supply, which was capable of running for 48 hours at a time, or about heating or cooking, the atmosphere was philosophical and, after a lunch that ended far more noisily than it had begun, thoughts of all minds turned back to the second reason for their trip to Northumbria, namely the aim of getting to know each other better, whatever they took that to mean!
After all four of them had done a quick early afternoon tour outside the Bothy, they went back indoors and sat together on the large, comfortable leather sofas in the lounge. The atmosphere had become very relaxed, aided partly by further inroads into the wine reserves, and the conversation gradually became less and less inhibited. The experience of the previous two and a half days plus a relaxing catalyst in the form of two or three glasses of wine had even relaxed Helen's cautious stance and it was not long before the conversation had turned full-on to the things that they all did with such pleasure – thus far confined to their relationships, but there were three people in the room who had designs on changing that. There was a hint of hesitation and awkwardness as the realisation that this was real life and not virtual sunk in, but John, well versed in the art of effective communication, made the suggestion that what they needed to overcome the inertia was an ice-breaker. Helen, who was no stranger to training courses where strangers had to get to know one another, winced somewhat at the thought of cringeworthy ice-breaker games, that she loathed vehemently, but the games of which John was thinking were on a different plane altogether from the sheer naffness of the games so reviled by Helen.
—  —
THE RULES OF THE GAME
The suit value hierarchy is topped by spades, followed by hearts, diamonds and clubs, to avoid any problems if cards of equivalent face value are drawn. The cards are shuffled several times, then laid face down on the table. Each player then cuts the pack and reveals the card at the base, which is then be removed and placed face up before the next person cuts the pack. This is repeated until all players have drawn their card. The person who draws the card with the highest face value starts the game off in the role of dealer and referee. Each person at the table is then given three sets of questions and answers (Levels 1, 3 and 3, of increasing difficulty) relating to a specific subject, each set containing fifty questions. The four subject areas are: the arts, sports, current affairs and the sciences. None of the players has had a hand in devising the question lists.
In each round of the ensuing game, the dealer shuffles the cards carefully, observed by the others, then places the pack face down in the middle of the table. Again the pack is cut and individual cards are removed and displayed by each player. Now, it is the player with the card of lowest value who takes the first (Level 1) question from the dealer.

If the answer is given correct, the person who answered correctly becomes the dealer and referee and the next round begins.
If an incorrect answer is given, the person who answers incorrectly may either carry out a vanilla forfeit or ask for a second (Level 2) question. If that question is answered correctly, the dealership moves to him/her. If the answer is incorrect, the affected person may either carry out a semi-kink forfeit or ask for a third (Level 3) and final question. If that question is answered correctly, the dealership moves to him/her. If the answer is incorrect, the affected person has to carry out a kink forfeit ordered by the dealer/referee and agreed by the other two players. The dealer then moves on to the next person and the process starts again.
If any player makes a valid challenge to a perceived play error, the person who committed the error has to carry out a forfeit imposed by the challenging player.
If a player makes an invalid challenge, the roles are reversed.
If a player is found to be telling lies or cheating, the other three players deliberate upon an appropriate penalty, which MUST then be applied to the letter.
Before the game starts, all players give a commitment to each fellow player to adhere strictly to the rules. Only the use of a safe word can bring play to a halt, at which point the game ends.
—  —
Despite the anxiolytic properties of the wine and the stimulant properties of a sex-drive that had responded with increasing, if non-manifest, positivity towards her fellow-players, Helen was the only one of the four players who entered the game and who hesitated slightly before giving the required commitment to abide by the rules and by properly-made decisions from the dealer/referee and her fellow-players, yet she was keenly aware of an increasingly pleasant 'butterflies' sensation and of heightened sensitivity towards the manner in which she was attired, particularly the underwear that she had chosen, a gift from Mike that made her feel as no other garments had ever made her feel, particularly her knickers which caressed her femininity and bottom in a manner that she had never experienced previously. How well she remembered the time when she had first modelled that underwear for Mike and what his very predictable reaction had been, a reaction that had kept them up well into the small hours of the morning and that had left them sleeping to mid-day, she with a bottom that still tingled deliciously from the long and increasingly hard spanking she had taken from Mike, arguably the best she had ever experienced, before they became entwined in body, mind and soul as they made love memorably. As they woke, she could still taste him – and he her!
Helen looked at John and had to admit to herself that she felt powerfully drawn to him. She also had to admit that she was experiencing thought patterns relating to Julie that had never before developed beyond a fleeting fantasy. However, she kept all these thoughts to herself and even Mike was not aware of the turmoil in her mind. That said, reality casts a light upon activities and events that is never present in the subjectively filtered atmosphere of cyber interactions. The butterflies were hard at work. However, in terms of real-life intentions, Helen's mind was responding to cautious instincts.
John had no doubts in his mind as to how he wanted things to develop, having reached that conclusion long before they had set off from home. As soon as he had earlier set eyes on Helen for the first time, his response had been instantly masculine and pleasurable. Becoming acquainted with the girl who inhabited the lovely body belonging to this young woman had only served to deepen his interest in her.
Mike was very protective towards his Helen (and she towards him) and had come to love her ever more deeply as they spent time together. He had never seen her merely as a girl who could meet all his sensory and social needs – which she had done beyond his wildest dreams. He simply saw a girl who captivated him, who inspired his trust, confidence and admiration. She was truly the girl of his dreams. The fact that her appetites, both gastronomic and social, had melded so well with his had been catalytic in rewarding both of them with a full and varied life. Oddly – for Mike would have considered serious criminality towards any man who had the temerity to seek to engage the amorous attention of his girl – he felt no threat in the presence of John, neither did the prospect of possible bodily union between him and his girl engender the least bit of concern in him. He knew not why this was the case and he felt no compulsion to investigate.
Mike had found Julie a little intimidating at their first real-life encounter à quatre earlier in the year. The deep attractiveness of her good looks and athletic physique were beyond dispute, although hers was a physical loveliness that was possibly less obvious than that of his own girl. That, however, did nothing to diminish the subtle sexual magnetism exuded by this confident young woman who was so at ease with her identity and her nature.
Julie had been pleasantly surprised by Mike and Helen. She had seen the video clips that they had posted online and that had led to their initial contact, which had progressed very pleasingly from wall messages, up through e-mail correspondence, instant messaging and telephone chats to a few social contacts in vanilla settings to this weekend, a time when they would all discover the real substance of their counterparts. She had no misgivings about being intimate with Mike and she was, in fact, increasingly keen to experience time across his lap – and in his bed. Feelings of powerful eroticism coursed through her body as her thoughts wandered to a very hot bottom and to the prospect of looking down her body at the top of his head as he met one of her favourite needs. She knew that John would be fine with this, because they had talked at length about it and had given each other total freedom to explore as opportunities permitted.
Initially, although she readily acknowledged Helen's good looks and elegant female form, she had looked upon those physical attributes quite dispassionately whilst her mind had come closer to that of a woman towards whom she was becoming increasingly attracted at a social level. The two women had talked about everything and anything together, more vanilla than kink, and had been remarkably candid well before what had been a virtual relationship metamorphosed into interaction with very three-dimensional people. Now, with the relaxant effect of the Rioja on her mind and her hormones, she found herself occasionally glancing at Helen's thighs and bottom, at her breasts and at her entire body, which seemed to her to be as near ideal as any she had ever seen, but not in the unnatural manner depicted by so much reading material directed at women but in the sense of full womanliness. This promised to be a very interesting day!
It was a gentle tap on her knee from Mike that brought Helen's attention back to the company and to the fact that she was being asked to cut the pack. She did, revealing an 8 of clubs. The butterflies did something akin to trampolining in her tummy. Did this mean that she might end up taking the first questions? She shuddered imperceptibly.
As it turned out, a 7 of spades, a 2 of diamonds and a 5 of hearts meant that Helen was the first dealer/referee. The cards drawn by the other three players resulted in Julie facing Helen for the first question.
All four players were intelligent, sharp-minded and observant with the result that dealership passed around the table several times before Julie stumbled with an answer to a Level 1 question put by Helen. The men observed in fascination as Julie took the option of Level 2. When she fell at that fence as well, one could almost hear the salivary glands of the men going into overdrive, only to be shut down brutally by Julie's correct answer to level 3.
After three further rounds none of which progressed beyond Level 2, there were signs of incipient boredom round the table, although the unfailing supply of good wine, a limitless supply of fresh mineral water and an amazingly varied selection of tapas kept spirits very much alive and even engendered a relaxation that, depending upon the way in which an observer noted it, had ominous or truly stimulating repercussions.
Facing John, Mike had inexplicably fallen down on two sports questions, he being the acknowledged whizz of pub quizzes in the area of sports. There were even questions as to how unintentional this had been. As a forfeit, John had decided that Mike should be sent to the kitchen to prepare the next round of food and beverages whilst the other three took a well-earned break and walked around the house for a while. It was at this juncture that the good wine of Northern Spain disabled Helen's caution mechanism momentarily. However, just as wind and rain see the slightest weakening as an opening and need only an instant to transform order into chaos, so Helen's momentary lapse led her to claim that Mike had, in fact, given the correct answer, failing to realise that she was ascribing her own thoughts to Mike's voice. The other three players looked at her, then at each other. Helen blushed furiously as she realised what she had done and as the gates of her caution slammed shut resoundingly – but alas, too late. The verdict was unanimous – Helen had lied. There was far less appetite for clemency than there was for the fine Iberian fare on the table (for the alcohol had begun slightly to influence all the players now and a longing for mercy was not uppermost in their thoughts, that place being occupied by far more carnal considerations.
Helen was sent away from the table to undertake the forfeit awarded against Mike whilst the remainder of the group deliberated upon her fate.
The atmosphere amongst Helen's butterflies could only be described as gale force 8, increasing to severe gale force 9, as a trough of very low pressure, fuelled by a bout of anxiety triggered by thoughts of potential consequences of her ill-judged intervention, took control of her thoughts. She disappeared quickly into the kitchen and busied herself with the realities of catering. She could hear the murmur of conversation, but she could not make out what was being said.
After what seemed to be an eternity, Mike appeared at the kitchen door, ostensibly to bring items to the dishwasher, but in effect to tell Helen that she should return to the lounge area.
It was not the alcohol that made Helen's legs almost buckle as she walked towards the table, her head pounding with conflicting emotions, ranging from wild excitement to total panic.
John, who had been appointed spokesman, announced her fate: each player in turn would remove an item of her clothing until she was down to her bra and knickers. She would then stand by the window for ten minutes before the sentencing Committee decided whether or not she had expunged her guilt sufficiently to allow her to re-dress and to continue the game.
Excitement: 0; raw panic: 1. Helen spluttered that she couldn't and that she wasn't going to accept the forfeit. She was about to utter the safe word when John caught her terrified, but almost equally excited gaze full-on and locked her attention upon his reply.
"Think very carefully, Helen, before you say anything". John's words were warm, quietly-spoken and confident, but also totally authoritative. Helen froze before uttering another word.
John went on: "We anticipated your response, which is why I stopped you before you took the game prematurely to its end-point. We are nowhere near finished with the game yet. We decided that if you took the route that you ultimately did take, you would be given the option of being punished by all of us to redeem your word. What that will involve is a hand spanking from Julie, the hairbrush from Mike and.."
The activities of Helen's butterflies suddenly shot off the Beaufort scale but, even to her surprise, she found herself in an almost hypnotised state - yet with no coercion or suggestion from anywhere other than her own thoughts. In her mind's eye, she saw John with Mike standing approvingly at his side. John looked straight at her and put just one question to her: "Helen, what do you want most of all, to be shackled by the conventions of others or to let yourself be who YOU want to be?"
The dazed state of Helen's mind and the imagination that had put the very real question to her suddenly cleared away, rather as a sea fret yields its existence to the radiant warmth of morning sunshine. She knew exactly what she wanted. She had been subconsciously driven to accept this invitation to Northumberland knowing full well what the prospects were... She now realised that she was going to do something she had never succeeded in doing in all her life, but that she had longed to do. She, strong and mature Helen who could twirl lesser men around her little finger if she so wished, was going to surrender herself completely - no reservations, no safe words, no cop outs. This was it, she was going to tread into the unknown and she had chosen the man at whom she was now looking directly, in an unbelievably 'eye-of-the-hurricane' calm atmosphere, to lead her into the unknown. She could not wait to be back into the hurricane again, but with a very different flavour to it.
Helen cleared her throat and spoke in a tone of voice that Mike had never heard before - in slow, confident tones that expressed the very embodiment of submission:
"John, Sir, I will do as I am bidden. I am yours to take into a place that I know not, for I trust you totally, to be to you what you want me to be, to take from you what you want to give."
Mike sat open-mouthed, but inwardly filled with overflowing pride in his girl, for he knew full well that she was still worthy of that title. Julie just sat in amazement and licked her lips in anticipation, looking both admiringly and, to some extent, adoringly at Helen. John, true to form and nature, gave no hint away of the energy at work within him, but he was extremely thankful to be wearing modestly restrictive underwear that kept his response from the eyes of the others.
Slowly, in crystal clear and very masculine tones, John announced the sentence:
"Helen, at 6 o'clock, Julie will spank you by hand for 10 minutes. You will obey her commands throughout that period.
At 7 o'clock, Mike will give you 24 swats with the hairbrush.
At 8.30, we will dine after you and Julie have prepared the meal."
Helen's heart pounded in her chest as she awaited the final part of her sentence...
John concluded:
"At 10 o'clock, you shall disrobe by the lounge table and you will lay yourself naked across the arm of the large sofa, where, with you in that position, I shall administer six full-force strokes of the cane. After you have been caned, you will go to our bedroom and lie face down on the bed and wait for me to come to you. Do you understand all your instructions?"
Helen was on the point of tears, but she knew they had to come later, at the moment when she finally relinquished her grip for a short while. She looked straight at John, blinked, then whispered: "I fully understand, Sir. I shall follow my promise through to the letter".
Had a pin dropped at that point, the unchallenged sound would probably have echoed all the way to Berwick-upon-Tweed, but not a sound was to be heard as she walked slowly towards John, stood three feet away from him and went down elegantly upon her knees, looking down at the thick rug. She looked up briefly and simply said: "I am yours, Sir, do as you wish to me".
—  —
Julie had played with other women and had found it enjoyable, even though she had never felt more than the slightest hint of sexual attraction toward the spankee. Not so now! She felt desire welling up inside her as Helen laid herself, having removed her jeans obediently, across Julie's lap, where she positioned herself to take her spanking.
The smacks started almost as firm caresses, but built up gradually to take on a firm and sharp quality that generated resounding cracks as Julie's palm landed across the seat of Helen's beautiful figure-hugging knickers. After five minutes of increasingly firm hand spanking, Julie paused and whispered an instruction to Helen to lift her hips. Helen obliged instantly and felt Julie's hands slip delicately inside her knickers and down over her hips. Slowly, the knickers moved down to her knees and on to her ankles. Unbidden, she kicked them off. Julie smiled and ran her hand slowly up and down the backs of each thigh and over each beautifully shaded dark pink cheek, firm and well-toned from a vigorous exercise regime – and soft as only a woman's bottom can be.
Helen was drifting into a wonderful state of relaxation, despite a stinging bottom, that she had not expected. She felt Julie's warm hand slide down to just above the back of her right knee. Instinctively, she moved her feet slightly apart, only to feel Julie's hand slide gently to the inside of the thigh, her thumb brushing backwards and forwards with exquisite gentleness, whereupon Helen moved her feet further apart. The visiting hand moved slowly up the inside of the thigh until Julie could feel the warmth from Helen's sex radiating downwards. Julie moved her hand in the most exquisite soft brushing movement over the warm femininity between Helen's thighs, gently sensing the outline of her female anatomy, before guiding her hand up onto the curvature of the buttock.
Helen did not tense, neither did she make a sound... she simply gave herself to the pleasure of Julie's attention, which continued for a minute or two that felt like an hour.
When the spanking resumed, it was in stark contrast to the tender sexual ministrations of Julie's hand, but, apart from a slight gasp borne of the unexpectedly sudden and sharp change of texture in the attention, she continued to make not so much as a sound and to lie perfectly in place until the time when her hand spanking was complete.
Helen responded to a gentle hand smack on her cheek and stood up on Julie's instruction. As if they had never been apart in ten years, the women embraced in a gesture that was a complex mixture of love, lust, tenderness, firmness and deep intimate closeness. Julie knew that it would not be long before she tasted her first experience of night-long comfort and intimacy with another woman. So did Helen...
—  —
Even though Mike had spanked Helen several times, with styles ranging from soft eroticism to firm disciplinary use of a cane, there was a totally new quality to the spanking that he administered, at the allotted time, to his girl's now naked bottom. Before going across his lap, she had looked at him in a way that instantly dispelled any hint of doubt or fear that may unreasonably have found its way into his thinking in the light of the afternoon's events. She had smiled with a comforting warmth he had never seen before, even at the most passionate times of love-making. Mike realised that her interest had not wandered. Her horizons had simply widened, substantially.
The spanking that Mike administered did elicit a response, with squirming and several gasps, as the brush delivered a fierce sting to both buttocks, with no resistance or dissent from Helen, who caressed his leg lovingly all the time her bottom was being spanked. When, as bidden by her man, she stood up, he rose from his seat and took her into the closest of embraces. Helen and Mike felt deeply secure, even more deeply contented. So contented, in fact, that Mike remained completely unperturbed by the fact that it was another man who would, that day, be taking his girl to the limits of pain and to the heights of emotional and sexual pleasure. He did not even think forward to the warm and responsive body of Julie, who would lie in his arms all night, spanked, loved and truly cared for.
—  —
The dinner was uncomplicated but superb. Julie had been taught by a friend's Italian grandmother of the qualities, flavours and textures that could be coaxed out of simple ingredients. As for Helen, her speciality was salmon mousse, and it was this that opened the meal, leading on to a Risotto ai funghi that left Mike, John and Helen agog with admiration of her culinary skills. Following a practice often adopted on the continent, the mushroom risotto was followed by a mouth-watering cheeseboard and the repast was rounded off with raspberry sorbet with mint, served on a base of a type of shortbread flavoured with lemon purée and Limoncello. It took only a round of delicious Italian coffee and liqueurs to complete the sumptuous repast and it was not until Helen stood up, still naked from her waist downwards, that Mike's mind was drawn back somewhat abruptly to the next and final stage in her punishment. He watched as she made her way to the kitchen, her bottom still red and somewhat bruised, carrying the crockery, cutlery and glassware to the dishwasher. Mike looked up at the clock.. 9.15 p.m. Now the countdown really started.
—  —
At 9.40, Helen excused herself from the others and disappeared, first to the bathroom, then to her and Mike's bedroom, closing the door behind her. At 9.50, John disappeared briefly into his and Julie's bedroom, returning with a magnificent Kooboo cane. He swished it casually through the air as he walked to the end of the large sofa, where he turned round, legs locked with his feet slightly apart, arms folded and cane tip resting on his shoulder. The clock seemed to advance with excruciating slowness, while Julie and Mike took seats at a vantage point from which they would be able to observe the entire proceedings in every detail. At around 9.55, Julie looked across at Mike and took his hand in hers... "Hold my hand, please, Mike". He smiled back at her for a few moments before a click to their left indicated that Helen's bedroom door had opened. Both of them turned to look. John was already totally focused on the woman who now emerged, wearing an above-knee oyster-coloured silk dressing gown bearing an exquisitely-embroidered Japanese bird motif in blue and lilac.
At a truly dignified and measured pace, Helen approached John, looking straight into his eyes, never once averting her gaze. Julie squeezed Mike's hand as Helen walked past, leaving a hint of very expensive female fragrance in her wake. Again Helen found herself standing in front of John. A slight flicker of his eyes indicated that she should remove her gown, which she did, leaving the expensive garment in a silken pool on the carpet. John never took his gaze off Helen either, as he nodded to her to lower her matching pair of French knickers, which fell to the carpet in the middle of the silken pool. John's quiet words came clearly across the room. "Bend over, Helen! You will remain in position until all six strokes have been administered and you will not stand until instructed to do so."
Helen nodded her assent, punctuating it with a polite "Yes Sir!" before turning towards the sofa and stepping out of her knickers. Everyone in the room knew that the words were mere formality. The facts were a foregone conclusion. Slowly, Helen lowered herself over the cool arm of the leather sofa and stretched her arms out in front of her, the long, well-toned legs stretched out behind, resting on her tiptoes. Again, Julie squeezed Mike's hand as John moved into position to the left of Helen. The girl who was about to be caned closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Everybody else in the room also took a deep breath.
There was a mesmerising quality to the administration of six, almost perfectly parallel strokes to the raised bottom that moved not a centimetre throughout a ritualistic caning that raised six proud weals that etched livid traces across the firm young cheeks. It was as if the entire sequence were being filmed in slow motion, yet with a very vivid, crisp sound each time the rod landed, sending clearly visible ripples upwards towards Helen's waist and downwards towards her slightly parted thighs. Her face became taut with the reaction to each searing stroke, yet little was heard apart from a gasp that was almost entirely eclipsed by the sound of bamboo striking skin and flesh at carefully measured speed. The high level of erotic tension was not lost on any of the four friends, least of all upon Helen, whose mind had been taken to an almost out-of-body place from which she was able to witness her own caning. As it was, she was to witness that caning several times over, along with her friends, for a well- and carefully-positioned high quality video camera had recorded the full sequence of events during the day, as had been agreed amongst the four of them. Each time brought back afresh the new experiences in which everybody had participated in some way on that memorable day.
—  —
There was an almost reverential silence during the first few minutes after the cane had been laid on the table and John had picked up Helen's silken clothing. He walked across to the girl he had just caned and tapped her gently on her left shoulder, bidding her to rise. Obediently, she responded instantly and stood almost motionless as John draped her dressing gown over her shoulders and whispered to her that she was to go to his bedroom and await his arrival.
All three of them watched, once again, as Helen retraced her steps to the corridor at the end of the open-plan area and made her way to John's bedroom. She entered, but did not close the door behind her this time, moving instead straight to the bed, where she discarded her gown and laid face down, with her hips resting, as bidden, on the thick pillow laid strategically in the centre of the bed, her hands spread out above her head and her feet just far enough apart to tantalise John's vision as he followed her, cane in hand, a few moments later, closing the door behind him as he entered the room.
Julie looked at Mike and, once again, squeezed his hand. She looked at him with a strange mixture of totally sincere warmth and what could only be described as a deep glow of pure lust. She leaned towards him and whispered in his ear: "You can't leave me neglected, Mike. I need to feel that brush of yours, I need it so badly."
No sooner had the words left her lips than Mike was on his feet and unbuckling the belt of Julie's jeans, which he guided slowly down to her ankles. He lifted her feet out individually whilst her hands rested on his shoulders; he felt a slight shudder in her body as his lips brushed softly against the pale blue cotton encasing her womanly mound, allowing him to inhale deeply the subtle pheromones in the fragrance of her desire and to feel her responsive pressure as her body pressed just a tad closer to his face. Mike's hands then entered the pale blue knickers and eased them down to her ankles, and off... Mike stood in front of Julie and looked down to where she was gazing up into his eyes. In a deft manoeuvre, he picked her up and carried her off to his room. There was a well-oiled click as the door closed quietly behind the couple in response to a nudge from his foot as he and his charge entered the room.
—  —
In twenty four hours, the weather had undergone a total transformation, from one of the most violent storms in living memory to a scene of almost perfect tranquillity. Outside, under a cloudless sky and a full moon, the trees stood silvery and motionless behind the Bothy, an owl turning its head in its own unique style, its big eyes following the tracks of a visiting vixen en route back to her den and her waiting cubs. In the distance, her mate barked across the night air, before the silence of the warm night enfolded the entire area in its calm. The Indian summer had finally arrived.
—  —

[hairbrushedhubby]

Very good so far, don't leave it hanging there, continue please.

[freudianchick]

Beautifully wordsmithed, DrMarkham!
The butterflies that I got in my own belly reading this thought they were part of some kind of feral butterfly circus rodeo in the eye of a tornado. I love the way you built up the tension and excitement, and how you so fluidly presented each character's feelings and perspective. Like the other reader/reviewer, i just wish there was more detail for the juicy bits — not that my imagination didn't try filling in those gaps. Hope you write a sequel and look forward reading more of your work. Lovely! ~ kirsten x