After a month or so you began to take me out shopping. I still found it hard to realise that you would take so much time with me. I felt so proud to be with you. The clothes you bought me were clothes that I would never have dared before. They were sensual clothes. I was embarrassed by the cost of things though elated that you thought I was worth it. I tried to stop you but realised it wouldn't make any difference.

Gradually I began to understand your choices. You bought 'good' clothes and never tarty clothes. However, they were all sexy in some way. They also, generally, had to be clothes, which allowed you easy access, visually or physically, or were hugging. You preferred cardigans to sweaters, you liked blouses and shirt-dresses, spaghetti straps and wrap-overs, but also tight woollen dresses and thin clingy jumpers.

The first time you took me out shopping was for underwear. You generally preferred me without a bra though expected me to wear one for work.

"I don't want your breasts to sag." I laughed as you said it.

"But you have me without one when I'm with you."

"Yes. Your breasts are beautiful now. I don't want them to sag in the future though."

"In the future?" I looked at you. I stop walking.

"Yes."

I threw my arms around you and kissed you and cried in the shop doorway.

You spent so much on me. Walking around with you made me feel special and I enjoyed the authority you had as you determined what I should have and what was not appropriate. Each and every garment was beautiful and so sexy. They made me blush with embarrassment. They advertised the sexuality that you had unlocked in me. They were naughty, they made me feel wicked. They were often sheer, hiding yet revealing so much at the same time and often small wisps of material that almost didn't exist. The knickers were often only thongs or g-strings, my buttocks to be bared. The knowledge of what I would look like for you excited me.

Amongst the countless packages were hold-ups and a suspender belt with a few packets of stockings. You had previously told me that you did not want me to wear tights. I had already accepted your suggestions and preferences as being the way I was to conduct myself even though you hadn't stipulated them as 'rules'. There were bras, one see-through, one only a half cup.

After you had paid you asked the cashier if I could try them on. You wanted to see them, see me in them. I coloured as the girl grinned at me knowingly. I was going to have to display myself to you in them. Obviously you had seen me in far less, but it seemed so different in the shop. I felt excited in the cubicle. I looked at myself in the mirror. They were sheer and black. My hardened nipples were obvious through the thin material of the bra, my sex prominent and looking bloated enclosed in the g-string. But that was all it covered. I felt naked. The string felt strange between my cheeks. I knew I had to show you and that I was excited by the idea. I hoped that you'd touch me here in the cubicle. My neck was blotchy.

I pulled the curtain primly over me and called to you to come and see, but you didn't want that. You wanted me to step into the aisle of the changing rooms and stand for you to see. I was shocked and shook with trepidation. It never occurred to me to refuse but I was filled with a shy fear. Initially I covered myself with my hands but you told me to let you see properly and shyly I let my hands go to my sides. My breathing was shallow as I stood displaying myself to you in the passageway. As I did a woman entered and raised her eyebrows before going into a cubicle. I wanted to die, but your eyes held me together. I accepted my submissiveness then and I felt a spasm suddenly in my vagina. I was so aware of being virtually naked for you in almost a public space. I had to do a twirl so that you could see my bottom; I was showing all of it. Then I was sent back to add the suspender belt and stockings. I had never worn one in my life before. They were fiddly. I smoothed up the stockings and fastened them to the belt. My body reflected back at me, was it mine? The garments hid so little and yet emphasised so clearly how my body could be used. I felt as though I looked like a tart. I felt like one.

I stepped out again. There was another man next to you! He was holding somebody's handbag and his eyes were like saucers as he saw me. I covered myself again before I realised. As my hand brushed my breast I found my nipples so hard they hurt.

"Let me see fully!" Softly but a reprimand. I lowered my hands again. I felt eyes devouring me. I had to slowly turn again. As I did I could feel the definite wetness at my crutch. Then facing you again, you and that other man. You had taken control of me, displaying me to this man who I'd never met, letting him see me almost naked. I was shamed by the knowledge that showing off my body excited me.

You told me to take off my bra! Your words excited me. The man looked at you, shocked too. He would be able to see how much I would do for you. I went to enter the cubicle, but you told me to do it where I was. It was as though you were showing me off, allowing him to see me unclothed, and I knew I wanted it! It would mean me being disgraceful, wanton. He would see my breasts, how much of a slut I was, what I'd do if you told me to. My heart pounded in my chest. My arousal was obvious to me above the shame. I wondered if you could see it, how wet I had become. I did it. My breasts were bared. You both could see my breasts. I stood, pushing them out for you, and him. They rose and fell with my breath. My nipples ached.

"You look very nice like that." Under my tension I glowed inside. "Yes. Turn around." I did know how I would look. I turned back to face you again. "What do you think?" You asked the man!

"Oh yes. Very nice. Mmm."

You released me, telling me to put on my clothes over the little I was wearing. In the breathing space of the cubicle I shook. My breasts were visibly shaking as I looked at myself in the mirror. I was virtually naked! I looked at my exposed breasts, blotches covered them! I wanted to touch myself but dare not. Unable to control my blushing I returned to you, trying to ignore the man as he grinned stupidly. As we walked the string felt strange between my buttocks making me vaguely uncomfortable, very aware of my body, making me roll my hips. The feeling of having something between my cheeks, yet having them bare, the movement of my skirt over my cheeks and the rubbing of material against my sensitive nipples made me very aware of my sexuality, making me wet.

Over coffee you lifted my chin.

"Exhibiting yourself like that excited you didn't it?"

"What? No." Trying to pretend. Scarlet again. Liar! Liar! The face of the man looking at me.

"I rather think it did. Would you have done that normally?"

"No! Of course not."

"Was it because I made you or was it because you enjoy exhibiting yourself?"

"Yes. No."

"I didn't expect you to lie to me."

"I know." Serious.

"Well?"

"I... Yes. It did. I don't know why. I've never done anything like that before. I just don't know why. I didn't really want to. I didn't really have a choice, did I? You made me didn't you?"

"Yes. I'm proud of your body. It's beautiful. But you still have a choice, you could have refused, but you didn't want to. You wanted to display yourself wantonly yet have me take the responsibility for your wicked behaviour, didn't you?"

"Yes," mumbled into my coffee. Your hand slid inside my blouse, holding my breast, I pushed against it as I looked around frantically, squirmed as you pinched my nipple deliciously. I wondered if anyone noticed.

"Good. I like to show you off. You'll do it again when I tell you." It wasn't really a question this time. I shivered involuntarily. The idea not totally repellent, but exciting.

"Yes. Do you... do you really think my body is beautiful?"

"Yes. Yes I do. Yes it is. But you lied to me."

I felt my eyes widen. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I really am."

"Your discipline is slipping. You are a naughty girl."

"Yes. I am. A naughty girl." I felt delightfully and playfully submissive. I wondered what you would do.

I didn't have long to wait.

On our return I was made to strip off my skirt and top as you sat before me. You sat on that sturdy upright leather chair with no arms in the bedroom. Being ordered to undress like that, as you watched, always made me aware of the trepidation and my excitement mingling.

"Are you a bad girl?"

"Yes." Quietly.

"Do you wish me to discipline you?"

"Yes."

"Are you ready to accept my authority to do that?"

"Yes."

"What do you think would be appropriate?"

"I ... I don't know."

"A spanking?"

"What! A spanking?" My breasts shook as my breathing went awry. You looked at me silently waiting. "Yes. I deserved to be smacked."

"Then you have to ask me to." This was surreal. Having to ask for punishment, yet it was exciting. I'd accepted your 'punishments' in the past. Now I had to ask for one.

"Please will you... smack me Stephen, I should never have lied."

Before I knew it you took my arm and lay me over your knees. I couldn't stop trembling. I couldn't believe it!

"No one has ever...."

"Does that matter?"

"No."

I was draped over you, so vulnerable. It was so humiliating. I squirmed around on your lap. My toes were just touching the floor with my legs straight, my hands on the floor on the other side of your legs. You pulled down the string that covered so little until it was just above my knees. You moved my thighs as wide apart as they would go given the restraint. I knew it would hurt, I mumbled my apologies. One hand in the small of my back held me imprisoned. I felt more exposed over your knee than ever before. More so than I had been in the shop in front of that man. I was so bad.

You began by caressing my buttocks. I just couldn't believe it. It felt so good. You caressed my buttocks and thighs, but not my sex, until we both knew I was aroused.

"My dear, your cunt is flooding!" I knew. I was pushing myself up to you. Then you spanked me three times on one cheek, then three on the other. I realise now that they were fairly soft smacks but at the time I didn't. I was whimpering. Nobody had ever done anything like that before. Nobody would have dared. The sound of the smack, then the shock, then the stinging, and then another. I felt the vibration run through my cheeks. I felt like a little girl, a bad girl. My bottom was hot. My bottom was so hot. The heat was spreading all over, all through me. I heard myself sobbing softly.

After that you stopped. I thought it was over. I was pleased that I could feel your cock hard in your trousers. You caressed me again over my sensitive spanked bottom. Then it was another spanking. I sobbed. That was the rhythm, the pleasure and the pain, until they strangely blended together. The heat had travelled suddenly to my sex. The sudden shock hit me when I found myself impatient of the caresses, wanting you to begin spanking me again!

"Please. Please!" I was ignored. I wanted to be ignored. I didn't know what I was pleading for, it to end or to continue!

I began to cry out and make little keening noises in my throat. You spanked my buttocks all over and then on the tops of my open thighs. I found myself pushing up and opening myself to each slap. My bottom so hot, my sex so hot. I couldn't believe it; it felt like an orgasm was building!! I hoped you wouldn't see my disturbing secret. My mind was in turmoil. I couldn't think, couldn't understand. You smacked me again and again. I was gasping. My sex was so wet. I would have come then if you had continued! I lay sobbing more in frustration and humiliation than anything. I was so embarrassed because I didn't want you to stop.

"You have to thank me."

"Oh God. Oh God. Thank you. Thank you for spanking me." My breath came in short gasps. I was so incredibly aroused. I couldn't understand it. I didn't want to, just accept.

Your hand was softly insistent high on my leg but without touching my sex. I wanted you again! I was becoming insatiable. You made me so wicked. I wanted to push up so I could feel your hand on me.

"Please!"

"What do you want?"

"Touch me. Please." I couldn't believe I was asking.

"I am doing."

"You know. You know. Please."

"Where?"

"Please. My... my sex. Please touch my sex."

"It's your cunt from now on, not your sex. Say it."

"Please. Touch me, my... cunt. My cunt. Please... finger my cunt! Please, make me come. Oh please."

Your fingers moved up slowly until they held my cunt in your hand. I could feel how unbelievably wet I was. My knees bent a little, pushing against you. I groaned softly.

"You enjoyed your discipline." Your fingers began to work in me. They were wonderful fingers. I felt so lewd, so dirty.

"Yes! Oh yes!"

"Do you want me to discipline you again?"

"Now?"

"When you need it."

"Yes. Oh please!"

"Such a slut!"

"Yes! Yes! Your slut." Fingers ignored my clit, they opened and plundered deep, I don't know how many. "I'm yours. It's yours, your cunt!"

You let me come. It was amazing. I bucked lewdly on your hand, spraying my juices.

After, I crawled between your legs and sucked you off. I loved your cock with my mouth. I took you deep. I rubbed my face over its hard wet length. I kissed it, licked it. I was desperate to pleasure you. You came in long spurts into my throat. You filled me. I was yours. We both knew it.

After, you cuddled me on the bed. Kissed me softly and cuddled me. You held me tightly and let me know I was safe. I would always be safe.

I felt so utterly submissive all weekend. I was always so wet, so ready for you. I begged you to use me. I begged you to let me please you. I loved it.