Diary – Chapter VII – The Wedding Day
The day of the wedding arrived suddenly, as it does to hugely busy people. Joan and her mother had arranged everything. I had no idea what it was to be like, except that it would be formal. My trip to Moss Bros for morning dress, topper and all, had indicated that.
My first shock of the day was when the church filled up behind me. Not a small church, but every pew was soon full, and when the bride arrived on the arm of her father, there was barely even standing room. I turned to watch my bride walk up the aisle. Breathtaking! She was lovely at any time to me, but my first sight of the wedding dress was just wonderful. It must have cost a fortune, as did everything that day. Flounces and frills, ballooning underskirts, miles of costly cloth, flowers, the veil; expense no object.
The service and the reception were just a blur in my memory, but one incident remained vivid. When the eating, the drinking and the speeches were over my new mother-in-law, of whom I was desperately in awe, caught me and took me to one side.
“I’d like a little word with you, John,” she said when we were alone. “That daughter of mine . . . she can be very self-willed. You’re courageous to have taken her on. You’ve started well, I know. But you must never let her get out of control. I know you have a cane, and are quite prepared to use it. Good! That’s exactly what she needs. As long as you use it regularly, she’ll continue to respect you. Let up, give her an inch, and you are lost. And the marriage will not survive.”
I listened to this speech open-mouthed.
She continued. “That’s how it works in my marriage. There’s a cane hanging in my wardrobe, and once in a while my husband takes it down and uses it to good effect. And I respect him for it. You probably think he’s too easygoing. Well, he can afford to be. I run the house for him, make the day-to-day decisions. But he’s the boss . . . the boss I need.”
I tried to say something, but the words stuck in my throat.
“And that’s the kind of boss you’ve got to be, my dear. Believe me . . . Joan’s a chip off the old block . . . Me!”
With that she gripped my arms, reached up and kissed me on the lips. Suddenly I realised what a splendid woman she was, and why her family worked so well. No longer a formidable silent woman in the background. And she was on my side.
As she walked away I realised for the first time she was very sexy, too. Did she always sway her hips like that? If so, I’d never noticed.
At four o’clock on the dot our limousine was gliding away from the reception. I had not the remotest idea where we were going, except that we were to spend the night not too far away in the city. What I didn’t know was that we had another ceremony to attend first.
Whenever I asked Joan where we were going, she put a finger on my lips and smiled. “You’ll find out soon enough, my darling.” We were still in full wedding regalia. So when we pulled up outside Madam’s establishment it just seemed too bizarre.
The maid met us at the door. It took some time to get Joan out of the car and into the house, her dress being so wide and packed out with underskirts. She still had the huge bunch of flowers in her arms. We were taken straight up to the main punishment room where I had so often bent over for a stiff caning. Was I going to be caned again today? Did Joan want to start married life making me bend over for her delight?
A massive shock when we entered the room. It was full of women. They clapped and cheered on our arrival, and congratulations were offered on every side. I looked round and saw people I knew. Annette the school secretary was there. Carol, too, the games mistress who had recently become part of our little spanking circle. Both still in their party frocks, they had both been at the wedding but must have left the reception before us. The maid, of course, we knew well, looking plump and delicious in her black maid’s frock ornamented with white lace; Samantha.
The others I did not know. Two of them stepped forward. They were both tall and fairly slim. One was black, splendidly built with a lovely glistening face and long bushy black hair. She moved with grace. The long white skirt she wore contrasted starkly with the black skin. The skirt was all she wore, and I admired her out-thrust breasts. The other woman was built equally well. I could see that as she, too, was naked above the white skirt. Straw-coloured hair was long and straight, and her skin was very white; altogether a vision in blond loveliness.
They took hold of our arms and led us to two upholstered chairs which had been placed in the centre of the room. Spotlights had been arranged to flood the space just in front of us with light. The two attendants took position behind us and the others quickly moved aside as Madam entered the room. Suddenly everyone hushed, and I thrilled to the familiar sound of Madam’s heels clipping across the wooden floor.
Madam was in especially good mood. She beamed at everyone, motioning the onlookers to sit, which they all did except the attendants behind us. Madam gave a happy little speech, welcoming us to her establishment, congratulating us on our marriage, and hinting at the pleasures she had arranged, I still had no idea what pleasures these might be, but the heavy leather whip hanging from her belt suggested that at least one person was to feel pain.
It was warm inside, and when Madam suggested I would be more comfortable if they removed some of my heavy morning dress I was delighted. The attendants made me stand, and they soon had me, too, naked above the waist. When I looked round, I saw that the onlookers had also stripped to the waist. I was surrounded by a vision of loveliness, with breasts of all shapes and sizes on display. Apart from my new wife, the only ones still covering their breasts were Samantha and Madam. Madam was in full power dress which she always used when punishing visiting men. And her breasts could hardly be described as covered, as the nipples peeped out above the top of the corset.
“And now for the entertainment,” announced Madam. “And for a taster, I’m going to show you that my darling little maid, Samantha, can take a hand-spanking just like the rest of you. Come here, Samantha!”
The maid stepped forward into the spotlights. She was unzipping the frock and letting it fall about her waist. Her plump breasts were unencumbered by any support, and rolled erotically as she walked. An attendant brought her to me and made her lie over my lap. The long skirt was turned over her back, revealing lacy black knickers, very brief. The attendant tucked the knickers carefully into the crease between Samantha’s buttocks, and I found myself staring at two gorgeous plump moons.
Madam stepped forward and was handed a heavy leather glove. She slipped it on, bent over Samantha and started to slap the plump buttocks. In the process she had leaned so far over Samantha that her breasts were almost in my face. I was not complaining. At first it was the way the black corset thrust Madam’s breasts unnaturally high that distracted me, and the sight of nipples peeping over the rim. As usual madam had coloured the nipples with scarlet lipstick or some such. I could have leaned my head forward and taken them into my mouth if I had dared.
The sound of smacking soon caught my interest and I watched the bottom-cheeks bouncing and bucking as a rain of blows smacked down. I loved the sound of leather on generous flesh, and the feel of Samantha squirming on my lap. She was soon weeping noisily, and the combination of sound, sight and feel had me hard in no time.
After a couple of minutes Madam’s chest was heaving as she panted for breath. She straightened up and invited me to carry on with the spanking. I never got the use of the glove, though, and after a few admittedly highly enjoyable minutes my hand was stinging too much to continue. After a further flurry of blows from Madam, Samantha was taken from my lap and made to kneel almost out of the spotlights, bottom towards me, skirt still firmly pulled over her back. She had stopped crying, but couldn’t keep still, squirming and shifting position which kept people looking at her. The generous bottom cheeks were an even pink all over, the colour of a deep blush, with deeper red marks showing where the glove had bitten more sharply.
“And now,” announced Madam, “some of your friends have asked to celebrate the occasion by accepting a whipping from me.” She turned to the onlookers. “You first, my dear,” she said, looking at Annette.
Annette came out, face averted, looking modestly at the floor. The attendants had moved the horse under the spotlights, and they took Annette’s arms and guided her to the end of the horse. Bending her forward, they made Annette rest her upper body on the horse, and, by holding her shoulders, kept her in place. It was Samantha’s duty to lift Annette’s skirt over her back and slide the knickers right off. This took some time as the suspenders had to be unfastened and re-clipped once the knickers were off.
The horse was only a couple of yards in front of Joan and me, and when Madam started with the cane there was only just room for it to swing in front of my face.
Madam did not hold back, and delivered six absolute stingers. She was using a very slender cane. This little beauty was extremely flexible, behaving almost like a length of rope. A wide arm swing and a flick of the wrist caused the tip to whip round at a massive speed, and there was no doubt she was badly hurt. The narrow stripes were already turning bright red. They would be very angry in the morning.
The attendants helped her up. Coming over to Joan she bent to kiss her. “Thanks for the party,” she whispered. “I’m loving it. Well, I will from now on, anyway. And lots of luck in the future, my dear. You’ve earned it.”
As she came over to me I stood up and bent to embrace Annette. It was slightly embarrassing that my trouser-front was bulging, but perhaps nobody noticed. Annette lifted her face and opened her mouth. I responded, and her tongue was wriggling everywhere. I stopped myself from grasping her breasts. “You darling man,” she said. “Thanks for everything.” She walked stiffly away and sat gingerly in her place. I looked again at her full breasts.
It was Carol’s turn. She shook off the attendants when they tried to take her by the arms, and strode briskly to the horse, quickly laying her naked breasts on the leather surface and reaching up to hold the far end of the horse. Samantha removed the skirt with some difficulty. It was a sheath dress, hugging her body, and it took some time to work the whole garment over her hips and away. There was a murmur around the room as everyone saw she wore no knickers; not even a thong. She was completely naked except for shoes and stockings, and a suspender belt. I looked on in awe.
“Twelve with my favourite cane,” announced Madam.
Madam had been briefed that Carol was a very tough cookie indeed, and had chosen one of her more severe canes. It was an old one, evidently a long-established favourite. It was brown in colour, and had been soaking in some liquid as I could see from drops falling onto the floor. That would make it heavier, and I was intrigued to see what its effect would be on Carol.
In the event, the effect was pretty devastating. The first stroke was not one of Madam’s heaviest, but under the cane a white stripe appeared, quickly colouring pink then red as the blood rushed to the area. Carol was facing directly away from me, so I couldn’t see her face, but she made no sound and kept absolutely still. The second stroke was firmer, and still no response from Carol. Perhaps Madam took this as a challenge, for her third and fourth strokes were full out. I could see that one of the stripes curled round the outside of Carol’s thigh and the tip dug into the flesh. Carol shifted her body on the horse, as if in an effort to make herself more comfortable.
The next stroke was low. I shall never know if it was deliberately so, but Carol gasped. Number six was on target, low on the buttocks, which were starting to look ravaged.
“I’ll give you a couple of minutes respite,” said Madam.
“There’s no need,” replied Carol. “You can get on with it.”
This sounded very rude to me. I wouldn’t dream of saying a thing like that. Madam looked somewhat put out, too, and quickly took up position again alongside Carol’s hips.
“Alright, if that’s how you want it, so be it,” said Madam, and immediately she launched the next stroke. She was obviously going all out now, and the cane smashed into Carol’s flesh six times in quick succession. She had her squirming, and despite Carol’s determination to take the caning well, she was crying out before the end.
Suddenly it was all over, and the attendants helped Carol off the horse. She went over to Joan and bent over to kiss her on the lips. “Thanks for everything, my dear,” she whispered. “It would have been even better if you had done the caning.” Brave words, but I could see she was still a bit shattered by the experience.
At once she came over to me. “Just you wait,” she whispered, kissing my cheek. “One day soon I’ll have you at my mercy, and I’ll give you a dose of the cane. Such a dose! One you’ll never forget.” Her hand had fallen in my lap, and as she spoke she grasped me and squeezed hard. I managed not to cry out, but I’m sure several onlookers saw what happened. Something was developing between us, a competitive edge. I sensed trouble ahead, trouble in the form of a blazing backside no doubt. I’d have to watch out.
Madam started to speak again. “And now I’m delighted to announce we have a celebrity in our midst. Victoria is a star of countless spanking and CP movies, and we’re proud and delighted to welcome her to our humble establishment. Especially on such a special occasion. Step forward, please, Victoria. This is your moment.”
I’d hardly noticed this woman, sitting quietly behind the others. There was nothing special about her so far. She had stripped to the waist like all the others. Her breasts I looked at first, as is my wont. They were not exceptional, but held themselves firm with small nipples pointing to the ceiling. She was almost the smallest woman in the room, and rather wide. She gave the impression of being sturdy rather than elegant. Hair was short, and there was some metal jewellery in her face. She walked quietly to the horse where the attendants waited to strip off her skirt. Shoes had to be removed, so that her tights could be rolled off.
Once naked she wasted no time, turning to the horse and bending along it without being told. She was close in front of me, and I could see more metal jewellery, this time a heavy-looking pendant, probably of stainless steel, hanging from her labia. The attendants spent some time strapping her in place, including a long strap over her back, passed under the horse’s belly and buckled at the side. Victoria would be able to squirm under the strap, but not escape.
“Right,” said Madam. “Victoria has agreed to take four dozen strokes. First I shall deliver two dozen myself, with the Lochgelly tawse. Then I shall allow my maid and assistant, Samantha, to deliver the final two dozen with a cane.”
The blond attendant was walking towards her and handed over a vicious-looking strap. I’d seen nothing like it before though I’d heard the term ‘Lochgelly tawse’. It was evidently old, of leather, and had a handle at one end. The other end appeared to be split into two. Madam wasted no time and with a long sweeping delivery, slashed it across Victoria’s behind. I was fascinated. There was a loud crack. Victoria did not move or make a sound. In fact it was well into the first dozen that she gave the first sign of the intense pain she must have been experiencing. The marks made on her rump were quite different from those made by a cane. At first there was little sign of damage, but after a while irregular blotches appeared, especially on her right where the tip of the tawse was digging into the skin. There the marks were looking angry. Once or twice because madam was standing too close to her victim the strap crept too far round and caused angry marks on the side of the hip.
There was a pause in the beating at twelve strokes, by which time Victoria was squirming uncomfortably inside her bonds. Still no sound had escaped her. Clearly she was proud and stubborn, determined to take the punishment without complaint.
Madam walked to the far end of the horse and lifted Victoria’s chin to look into her face. “What are you waiting for?” said Victoria.
Annoyed, Madam dropped Victoria’s head and started work again. The metronomic delivery of the second dozen must have been hard to bear. I was fascinated to watch at such close quarters the sight and sound of this ordeal. Victoria must have developed the skin of a rhinoceros, because the bruising was less than I expected. Still, it would be sore, and dark areas of bruising were developing, with raw red lines where the edge of the strap had tried to cut into the flesh.
I had become more and more excited by the sequence of caning and tawsing. My senses were overwhelmed by the occasion, and heightened by the sight of so many semi-naked women around me. I wondered how Joan was enjoying the scene. I looked across at her and caught her eye. She opened her mouth slightly and showed me the tip of her tongue. It was a secret sign we had invented. It told me Joan was sexually excited too, and wanted sex with me. I showed her the tip of my tongue, too, and we both looked back to see what Madam was producing for us now.
What Madam had arranged was that Samantha would come out and play her part. I had never seen Samantha use a cane before, and I had no idea that she had been taught. It was immediately apparent that she had indeed been taught, and no doubt by plenty of practice had become expert.
The afternoon was getting better and better for me. Already highly excited, the sight and sound of Samantha in action was the best part of the day so far. As she wielded the cane I watched open-mouthed. I’ve often mentioned her plump breasts, and they bucked and bounced more than any I had ever seen. As her right arm swung sharply across her front the arm slapped into the right breast, which in turn slapped violently into her left. Both breasts leaped upwards, then dropped and quivered. They steadied as she prepared for the next stroke, and the whole delightful process repeated. I thought it was the most erotic sight of all time.
It was made more so during the second dozen. Samantha too had paused after twelve, had been encouraged by Victoria to “Oh, get it over with!” And had carried on. Two strokes landed low, and for the first time Victoria cried out in pain. She was twitching as the cane landed, and squirming under the waist strap in a vain attempt to alleviate the agony. Canestrokes on buttocks already sore from the strapping must have been excruciating, and livid marks were beginning to appear.
At last it was over. There was a round of applause from all the girls, and calls of “Well done, Victoria!” When the straps were released she was lifted off the horse and was escorted to a chair where she sat carefully.
I tried to analyse my own feelings. Pure enjoyment of the scene, of course. But there was something powerful going on inside me. Something was missing. What emotion was forcing its way into my brain?
Envy!
I was trying to imagine myself over the horse and taking the punishment I had already witnessed. A big, big punishment, more than I’d so far experienced. That’s what I wanted, What had Joan arranged? Was this intended only to be an entertainment for me? For the two of us? Was I to go on honeymoon frustrated and denied the joy of the greatest thrashing of my life? By now nothing else would have satisfied me. Especially I wanted to be flogged in front of all these women.
I was soon to get my answer.
Everyone had been watching Victoria, but once she was sitting (more or less comfortably, probably less) attention turned to Madam. She came to stand immediately in front of me. “Stand up, my dear,” she said quietly.
“Now this is where your day really takes off.” She smiled happily. “You didn’t think your wife would allow you to escape without at least a little spanking, did you?” There was a giggle or two from the onlookers. “Now it’s the turn of your bottom to receive a few stripes.” I felt a powerful surge of excitement.
She motioned to the two attendants to undress me. They soon had me completely naked. I’d always found it exciting to stand naked before a woman, and now that I was completely surrounded by these splendid specimens I was extremely worked up. And my excitement was evident to the onlookers.
“Now since this is such a special occasion,” said Madam, “I’m going to give you a choice. Not about how many strokes . . . You’ll get twelve of the very best. But you can choose which of us is to cane you, my dear. Yes, you may choose any of us.” My first reaction was disappointment that it was to be only a dozen. My mounting excitement had made me start to wish for an even bigger punishment.
I looked round the room. My new wife sat quietly, looking at me with a half-smile on her face. No, not appropriate. I was the one who did the caning in our family. And mother-in-law had confirmed it that day. Carol? She had taken a step forward, obviously hoping I would choose her. No, my time would come with her. Madam and her maid Samantha? No, I’d already seen them in action, and there were two new and exciting people in the room. The two attendants. One blond and elegant, the other black and lithe. The black one! Yes, I had admired the way she moved. Something told me she would be a natural with the cane. I pointed to her.
“Ah,” said Madam. “You’d like Liza to be the one! What a good choice!”
Liza beamed the widest smile and came up to me, opening her mouth and kissing me wetly. The kiss did nothing to quieten my excitement, and Liza looked down at my erection. “I’m so pleased you like me,” she said, grinning. “Well, you just come with me.”
So saying, she grasped my prick and guided me to the horse, where I bent forward along the leather surface. I reached for the far end of the horse, where the blond attendant grasped one wrist. Carol came forward to hold the other. She also had a hand on my shoulder, holding me helpless in her strong hands.
Madam had been selecting a cane, which she handed to Liza, who took a few practice swings, swishing the cane noisily. I watched this in the great wall mirror. As I’d expected, Liza handled the cane with confidence. With grace and elegance too. I searched for a word to describe her movements, and came up with ‘feline’.
I watched as she took position on my left. She tossed her hair aside and immediately swung into the first stroke. She looked to be putting little effort into it, but the effect was massive. It was done with a long slow swing, backed by the momentum of the whole body. I sensed the impact of a heavy cane, and a split second later the pain struck. The sting was huge, and suddenly I was glad it would be just a dozen. Even twelve would take all my limited fortitude, and I began to worry that I might disgrace myself by failing to take the whole beating.
So I concentrated on my strategy. By now I knew that by concentrating on the swinging breasts of my tormentor I could take my mind off the pain. Sufficient to make the experience fiercely pleasurable. Concentrate on the pain, and I was lost. My strategy worked. Liza was magnificent, and I just loved the way she moved, the way she put her athletic body into each stroke. After each one she paused. This was a relief to me as the sting had mostly died away before the next arrived. After every two or three strokes she passed a cool hand over my rump to assess the effect she was achieving. I loved that. A brief respite before the next blazing impact.
After six she walked to my end of the horse and bent over, lifting my chin and putting her face close to mine. “Had enough yet, bridegroom?” she said.
I looked her in the eye and replied, “You are superb at this, but I think I can take the other six.” Hopefully this was not too provocative, as I didn’t want her angry. She could I think have made it much worse for me. Cowardly? I wondered how provocative Joan would been.
How much worse I discovered when the twelfth and last stroke arrived. It was double the strength of the others. So if I had angered her, and taken six of those dreadful stingers, I would probably have failed the test.
Once back in my place I watched as they lifted my bride. She was the only person in the room still fully clothed. They laid her carefully over the horse and started to lift skirts. First the brilliant bridal gown had to be folded over her back. This revealed lots of white underskirts. Each had to be folded high and forward. When the last one rose I saw legs encased in ivory stockings to match shoes and wedding dress, suspenders the same colour, short areas of bare thigh, and finally ivory knickers, very fine and evidently of silk. They were not finished. The knickers had to come down, and for the first time in my married life I saw Joan’s bare buttocks. Framed by masses of white and ivory skirting, the delicate pink bottoms looked perfect. Except that they needed livid cane stripes for absolute perfection.
These stripes Liza proceeded to lay on. I was in heaven. I loved the sight of Liza at work, her lithe black body constantly in motion. The effort was causing her to perspire and I watched the naked body gleaming in the spotlights.
Samantha and the blond attendant had trouble keeping the masses of skirt clear, and after a few strokes Liza had to pause while the girls struggled to pull the skirts right up to Joan’s shoulders. Joan was taking it well, uttering no sound as yet, but I watched as she squirmed her body against the horse and tried to move her legs, suggesting she was trying the ease the pain in her flanks.
With measured rhythm the twelve strokes were laid on. Most of the stripes were concentrated low on the buttocks, and were twice as angry on the right side. One or two had gone rather high or low, but mostly I was able to admire the accuracy. Several stripes appeared to lie directly on top of one another, and I was surprised she had not drawn blood. Madam stepped forward and ran a hand over the ravaged flesh. “Well done, Liza,” she said. “You’ve done a splendid job there.”
Joan stood up by herself, the masses of skirt falling into place. She was pale and reserved. I guessed she was fully stretched by the beating, but determined not to show weakness. I wondered if that was partly due to the presence of Carol. She kicked off her shoes.
At a sign from Madam, they unzipped the wedding dress and drew it forward from Joan’s shoulders. It fell to her ankles and she stepped out. They removed her underskirts, Madam pointed to Joan’s bra. “She won’t be needing that, so you can take it off. Besides, it will be uncomfortable for John.” I didn’t know what she meant.
My bride looked a picture. Quite naked except for ivory-coloured stockings and suspender belt. My gaze roamed over her lovely body. Suddenly I longed for nightfall, when I could fondle and lie against my bride.
But the ceremony was not over. They fitted wrist straps, and strung her arms up towards the overhead beam, making her stand on a small low platform. They came for me, and fixed straps on my wrists too. They put me face-to-face with Joan and hoisted my arms along with hers. Since I was not standing on the platform my face was level with Joan’s. As they passed a large strap round our bodies, pulling us firmly together, it was natural to kiss. We opened mouths and lingered in our passion.
We were interrupted by Madam, who informed us our ordeal was not yet over. I watched horrified as she unclipped the cat from her belt. The cat with at least a dozen thin leather thongs.
This she always wore when dressed for domination, but I had never known her use it. “Six strokes with my little beauty,” she said. “Six strokes each!” And she lashed out, catching Joan full on her sore bottom. I felt the heaviness of the impact transmitted through Joan’s pubes which were pressed against mine. I knew she was hurt when she cried out. “Too much for you, darling, is it?” laughed Madam.
“Joan turned her face away from me and shouted, “Do your worst, blast you!”
“Oh, I will,” replied Madam. “My worst is two strokes extra.”
With that she let go two terrible lashes, which had Joan writhing and squirming against me. I realised she was sobbing, too. The contact and movement was deeply erotic for me, but I knew the next stroke would be into me. Since Joan had cried out, I saw no shame in making a noise myself. The pain was easier to bear if I gave a shout each time the cat struck my buttocks. I tried to make it an “Oh!” but what emerged I was too consumed with pain to worry about.
It was the weight of the cat which made the experience so different from a caning. It landed with a thud which drove the hips forward into my partner. As with a heavy cane stroke, the pain arrived a moment later.
After the extra strokes Madam alternated between us. Before her next stroke Joan placed her mouth against mine, and on impact the shout went inside my mouth. I felt I was sharing the suffering of Joan’s punishment, and I shouted into her mouth too when I was flogged. Soon our faces were hot, and wet with tears and liquids from our mouths.
It was wonderful having our naked bodies strapped together, and our up-stretched arms increased our sense of exposure. But I was glad when I had taken the last thudding whipstroke from Madam. By the end of the flogging our buttocks were red raw, especially where the cane stripes had been.
“There, my darlings,” said Madam. “That’s the end of your whipping for today. Well done . . . you’ve both taken it very well. I’m proud of you.” There was applause from around the room,
I thought they would take us down from the beam, but not so. They did unfasten the strap holding our midriffs together. Cool air came between us; delightful.
“That’s enough of pain. Now you must have your pleasure,” she continued. Madam slipped a hand between us and found my member. It had been anything but rampant during the whipping, in spite of the proximity of my bride’s hot body. Now the punishment was over, there was nothing to prevent my sexual excitement from taking over, and I was rapidly beginning to show my true colours. When Madam’s hand enclosed me, I was already stiff and getting ever harder. “Yes,” she said smiling, “you’re ready for your bride, I can tell.”
Carol had come up to us, and was sliding a hand between Joan’s legs, a task which I had expected to be the first to undertake. “She’s ready too, well wet, I can tell you,” said Carol. “The sooner she gets a good hard cock inside her the better.”
Willing hands lifted Joan’s legs either side of my body, and she squeezed them round my waist. They were taking her weight, though she was still attached to the overhead beam by her wrists. Meanwhile several hands were at work between my own legs, stroking and grasping everything they could find. Someone grasped my prick and thrust it forward as they lowered Joan over it. Hands behind my sore buttocks pushed me towards Joan as I slid gratefully into her.
We both came at once, to cheers and congratulations from the onlookers. We stayed locked together. We were still like that when they lowered our arms and removed the wrist straps. They laid us on the floor, Joan lying over me, as we alternated rest and more orgasms.
When we came to our senses and looked up, they were all well into the third glass of champagne and getting noisy. They helped us up and I stood sipping bubbly surrounded by my group of happy and very naked women.
I noticed Carol with an arm round the blond attendant. They kissed from time to time, and I noticed a hand burrowing deep between Carol’s legs. Even Madam had lost her basque. Quite a plump tummy she had, and I loved her breasts which were full and round. It was the first time I’d seen them properly; quite an honour, I thought.
When we reached our hotel room that night we were ready to drop.
We undressed. I collapsed onto the bed and Joan lowered herself onto me. She was as bushed as I, and all we wanted was sleep. I was flat on my back as Joan lay over me. She seemed no weight at all, just warm and comfortable. I was barely half-hard, but as we drifted off to sleep Joan managed to slip me into herself.
I’ve no idea what time it was, but when I woke Joan still lay on top of me. My prick, still inside her, was on fire and my whole groin area glowed with sexual pleasure. I was hard again, and when I stirred she did too. I tried to push upwards into her, and she came to life, working her hips and making me wild.
We came almost at once, long and quietly. Eventually, as our bodies calmed down, we held each other and kissed. At last she rolled off and we slept. Slept the clock round.
