Dear Polly...

Story from Februs 39.

Dear Polly...
A Short Story by Sam Ramsey

Oh, I do miss Polly! We used to meet up often, and (sweetly wanton girl!) she'd ask for her pretty bottom to be spanked and paddled, and sometimes even lightly caned, before we made love. 'No pain, no gain,' she would say – for she'd discovered that these little acts of submission turn her on as nothing else does, and make her orgasms afterwards so much more intense.

But now she is two hundred miles away. My fault, of course. The new job was far too good an opportunity to turn down. There are fleeting visits still. But between times, the odd phone-call doesn't really fill the gap. So, occasionally, I write. At first, it was just cards or quick notes, with a teasing erotic tone. But she wanted more. Polly always got really turned on when I showed her the stories I had written for Februs – she confessed (so wanton again) to having frigged herself reading them. 'Make the letters more explicit too,' she said. So I did...

Dear Polly,
It was great to speak to you on the phone a few days ago. Except that, hell, I do hate phones. I always feel that I've not managed to say what I meant. Still, it was terrific to hear that you were really looking forward to meeting up again. As I said, I'm incredibly busy at the moment, but Monday week looks a real opportunity. That should be just wonderful. I'll phone you again nearer the time to wake definite arrangements. Meanwhile are you in the mood for another letter, perhaps even ready to play with yourself as you read? You are? Good!! Then I'll continue...

* * *

Have you won the lottery yet? A very selfish question, of course – for (do you remember?) after our last time together, when I had to leave, you said that if you won the lottery you'd love to come and stay in a hotel so that we could have some unrushed time together, Wow! What an idea! I've been imagining how things might be.

Perhaps we'd meet up in London: and we could have a relaxed afternoon shopping around Oxford Street. We'd start by buying you some really good lingerie (I mean very expensive, lacy, sensuous wisps of things), and then a pretty dress or two. And some sexy, strappy, very high heels – you know my tastes! Maybe we'd then move on to one of the less sordid sex shops, and buy toys for you – a vibrator, perhaps a slim anal dildo too, and a whip with soft leather strands to tease you with. We'd certainty end up at the Janus shop in Soho. You'd probably be the only woman there, as we browsed through some magazines, looking together at the pictures of pretty girls being spanked and caned. We'd select some magazines, and then we'd carefully choose a paddle and a cane for you. Would it turn you on, knowing that the other men in the shop are watching you, imagining you naked and crying out with painful pleasure as you bend over to receive punishment from the instruments that you are buying? I rather think it would...

Then it would be back to the hotel – a rather smart, elegant one (well, you have won the lottery!). And we'd have a long, lingering bath together, drinking champagne. You'd lie back against me, feeling me hard against you. I'd run my soapy hands over your breasts and tease your nipples hard, and get you to play with yourself a little. (I know how you like that, Polly – lying in a bath, drinking a glass of wine, and slowly masturbating yourself!)

We'd get out of the bath and dry each other, and it's almost time to get dressed for dinner, but would we be able to restrain ourselves? I'm not sure I could! My lips travel down your body, tasting you fresh from the bath. And you tumble backwards onto the bed, and my lips continue downward; you part your legs and you feel my tongue on your pussy; you begin to get wet; and I continue to lick you until you come to a sweet orgasm. We cuddle for a moment while you recover; and then you kneel up beside me and take my cock deep into your mouth – you suck me beautifully, as you do, and soon (all too soon) I fill your mouth with come.

Afterwards, I watch you got dressed in your new lingerie; a beautiful reverse strip-tease. First, your stockings and pretty suspender-belt; then a bra which lifts your breasts so sexily, your nipples only just covered and still visible though the fine lace; then the tiny matching panties with just a thong behind, leaving your lovely bottom quite naked. You slip on one of the dresses, balance on your new heels, and I take you down to the restaurant. You look so attractive and sexy – all through the evening we catch other men stealing glances at you. We catch up on more of our news over dinner: the food and vine are excellent, the whole atmosphere of the place a relaxed delight.

As the meal progresses, though, the sexual tension starts to rise again – for, though it is all quite unspoken, we both know that after the meal, in only an hour or so now, you will be half-naked, leaning over, waiting for the fiery kiss of the first stroke of the cane. We tell each other about our sexual adventures since we last met – you describe your session with the last man who spanked you, and I tell you all about the hour I treated myself to recently at a rather classy massage parlour, playing with two very pretty young girls in the jacuzzi. By now, we are drinking our coffee, and I have moved my chair around the table to be sitting closer to you. We have fun looking round the restaurant, imagining the relationships of the other couples. There's another older man with a young woman; they obviously know each other well. She is very elegantly dressed, but around her neck there is a slightly incongruous narrow leather choker; she has a band tattooed round the top of her arm. Is she into bondage and submission? In their room later, will she be moaning against a ball gag, writhing in the ropes that bind her, as the clamps are tightened on her nipples? There's another older man with an even younger, very beautiful, blonde girl; when her companion leaves the table for a moment she sits there, looking obviously very bored, but she turns on a forced animation when he returns. Is she perhaps an escort girl, about to be very expensively fucked? And on a near table to us, a couple of very attractive women in their late twenties are flirting with each other, occasionally touching hands across the table when they think no one will notice. I tease you, asking you which of the two lipstick lesbians you would like to make love with (I haven't forgotten – how could I? – your confession that you'd really like to make out with another woman one day).

Our coffee is finished; I take your hand and escort you out of the restaurant. Shall we pause in the bar? No: we've drunk enough – so at last we go back to our room.

I hold you tight for a while, my hands on your bum. Then I gently ease up your dress so I can feel your bottom naked in my hands and caress the smooth skin. After a while, you slip out of your dress, and carefully lay it over a chair; and you start to step out of your heels, but 'No,' I say, 'keep them on.'

We lie on the bed with the magazines we bought, and leaf through them together, looking at the erotic photo-sets of girls submitting to various instruments striping their pretty bottoms, talking about which of the girls we would fancy playing with. I read you one of the stories, about a maid in a Victorian country house being punished and then made love to by one of the house guests; you read me another story, about a girl's first experience of the cane. We get more and more excited...

Eventually, I say, 'Stand up!'. You obey, and stand by the bed in your lacy lingerie and heels. I caress you and stroke you and then remove your bra, caress you some more and suck your nipples hard. Then, my voice hoarse with desire, I tell you to put your hands on your head.

You stand there like the naughty girl you are, and I fetch the whip that we'd bought earlier and begin to flick you with it. The strands play on your bottom, on your thighs, on your tummy, on your breasts (especially your breasts). You bite your lip; it doesn't exactly hurt but it teases and torments. Then the stings increase. You begin to wriggle, and you gasp once or twice. But I make you keep your position, as I give you some harder strokes on your bum.

I then tell you to lean forward with your hands on the bed; and I arrange the mirrored wardrobe door so that you can see yourself. I pick up the cane...

Oh, we've done this before... what, a dozen times now? And each time I cane you or crop you, Polly, it is just a bit harder. I love the way you submit, the way you draw in your breath in little pants as you take the strokes, the way you get so turned on. I love the way the little bars stripe the perfect flesh of your bottom.

You look at yourself in the mirror, an image of sexiness in your stockings and suspenders and g-string, as you lean forward now, your bum a perfect curve. You watch me raise my arm. I hold the cane aloft for a moment, and then it swishes down.

You feel the impact, and then – a moment later – the line of fire blazes across your bottom.

Then another stroke. And you cry out, moving from one foot to the other, until you settle again and raise your bottom.

Another line of new pain draws a sighing moan from deep inside you.

Oh Potty, it hurts – but it is thrilling too. The heat in your bum seems to transmit itself straight to your pussy. You cry out as the cane cracks down again. I reach down and stroke you; a finger penetrates your wetness and teases your clit so that delightful sensations shoot right through you. Then my finger moves back and up, tracing round your sensitive bum-hole. You press back, as if wanting me to finger-fuck your bum already; but no, you can not enjoy that pleasure just yet. First, you must take four more stripes from the cane.

One. The sound loud in the silent room.

Two. Your bottom aflame again. You moan.

Three. Your bum has become the centre of the world – but as if to put out the fire, your pussy is now so very, very wet. I touch you and you open up to me with a sigh of pleasure. But it isn't quite over.

Four. The hardest stroke you have ever taken. Tears spring to your eyes, but immediately you are in my arms and your bum is being soothed and pampered, and we are cuddling tight together.

Then I lie you down, and – as has happened so often before – my kisses run all over your body. You open your legs to me, and my tongue searches round and round, slowly, teasingly. Finally, my tongue centres home on your clit, and you sigh with pleasure, and cry out again as soon a wicked finger deeply penetrates your bum-hole.

You drift far away into your own world, until suddenly an intense, deep orgasm washes over you. You lie there shattered for a moment; but then you smile and kneel up beside me and start stroking my cock. You take me into your mouth until I get very hard – and then you look at me and say, 'Please fuck me now.'

A bit later you are standing again, looking over your shoulder into the mirror, proudly inspecting the marks across your bum. You are still on a high, the heat in your bum still transmitting itself to your pussy. You want more sex.

I'm exhausted (twice in one evening is the limit at my age!); so I hold you in my arms as you play with your new vibrators, and I watch you come again as you masturbate with one while the other is plugged deep in your pretty striped arse.

Well, Polly, do you like the idea of that scene? Is your pussy wet? Have you started playing with yourself as you read this? God, how I wish I was caning you and fucking you right now!

But if that first night in our hotel is wonderful sexual fun, the second is even better for you – because it is the night you at long last have the first lesbian experience that you have imagined so often.

* * *

It is middle of the evening; after a light meal, we are sitting in the hotel bar. You are excited but a bit apprehensive. We have arranged with a very expensive upmarket agency to send us a girl, and she is meeting us here so that if you don't take to her, we can back out. She is a few minutes late.

Then a young woman is standing at the entrance to the bar, looking around. She's of medium height, shoulder-length very dark hair, olive-skinned, large brown eyes, rather beautiful. Her coat is hanging open, and underneath she is wearing a low-cut little black dress, showing a slim figure and long legs. We catch each others' eyes, and she comes over.

'I'm so sorry, I had real trouble getting a taxi.'

She calls herself Alice, and – it turns out – she is a student, working her way through college. She is immediately relaxed and friendly and we warm to her straight away. And when I go to the bar a little later for a second round of drinks, I notice that you are already chatting animatedly, and you obviously like her. So a little later I say, 'We'd very much like it, Alice, if you would join us in our room.'

And she smiles and says yes, she'd like that too. So we buy a bottle of champagne, and take it upstairs.

'Well, the agency told me a little, but do you want to say what you'd like to do?'

We do, and she nods and smiles acceptingly. 'That sounds fun,' she says.

So Alice begins to undress you completely, and lies you down on a towel on the bed. She then asks me if I'd like to help her undress; and who am I to refuse? I take off her dress and then her bra; I kneel behind her and take down her little lace knickers, kissing her bum as I do. But now she is naked apart from her heels I am dismissed to the role of a happy spectator.

Out of her bag she gets some scented massage oils, and she begins to work on your back. A long, expert, slow sensuous massage. It feels quite wonderful. Hands knead and stroke and rub. Occasionally, Alice rubs her breasts too over your body, so they begin to glisten slightly from the oil. She moves down from your back and massages your legs, moving up to your thighs and bum. She parts your legs slightly, and her hand sometimes strays to the very top of the inside of your thighs, brushing across your pussy lips.

'Turn over,' she commands at last.

And her ministrations continue on your thighs and tummy and eventually your breasts. By now you are very aroused, and when Alice bends down to take your nipples into her mouth you moan aloud with pleasure.

She continues down, her lips tracing patterns on your body, getting closer and closer to your centre. Then at last, her mouth is on your pussy, her tongue is seeking your clit. And for the first time you are been licked out by a woman. The sensations are gorgeous; subtly different from anything that you've ever experienced before. She knows exactly what to do, exactly how to pace things. Soon you are floating away, you are utterly wet and opening out to her, and from afar an orgasm begins to build and build until suddenly the waves crash over you.

Alice lies on the bed next to you, cuddling you tightly as you come down; I'm sitting on the bed next to you both, a caressing hand wandering over your bodies.

She kisses you on the lips. You smile into her eyes.

'That was wonderful,' you say.

'I'm glad,' she says. 'I'd very much like it if you'd do the same for me. Please will you?'

The moment of truth for you. But you are on a high now. So Alice lies down on her back, and you kneel over her and your lips begin to wander over her smooth, scented skin. You feel the springy flesh of her breasts, and take a nipple into your mouth, sensing it get erect. You savour, explore, nuzzle, kiss. Then your lips travel on. Past her belly button. On downwards to the small patch of hair above her shaved pussy. She parts her legs.

And for the very first time you taste another woman's pussy. Sweet, moist.

'Oh yes,' she cries, 'lick me there, just there...'

You lick around, feeling your way with your tongue. You hear Alice moan, and she is beginning to play with her own nipples. Seeing you lying between her thighs, your bum in the air, I'm so tempted to fuck you there and then – but no, I don't want to distract you, I want you to savour every moment of your first lesbian encounter. Alice's legs stretch wider apart, her pussy now aflood with her sweet wetness; you lick faster, and then, quite soon, she cries out two, three times loudly as her orgasm overwhelms her.

A little later, Alice is leaning over the bed as you did the first night. But tonight it is you who get to wield the whip and cane, to fulfil your dark desires (oh, Polly, how could I forget that you told me too about the rest of your lesbian fantasy, about having a pretty girl to be your slave for an evening). I watch, entranced, excited almost beyond endurance, as you begin to tease and torment her. First, the fine tails of the whip search out her tenderest spots, and she begins to writhe and grimace. You pause, and the two of you stand up pressed together for a while, kissing deeply; then you make her bend forward again. You pick up the cane; tentatively at first, and then more firmly, you begin to apply it to the curves of Alice's sweet behind. I watch the impacts, the play of mingled pain and pleasure across her face, the fiery stripes developing across her bum, while between strokes you frig her so gently, so sensuously. You too get more and more turned on by her submission, as Alice cries out and moans; she is obviously as into being punished as you are (the agency followed their instructions well!). She looks straight into my eyes, her eyes damp from the smarting pain, as you cane her once more, and then a final time.

Alice stays bent over when you have finished, panting, and together you and I put lube around her pretty bum-hole and you hold her as I push my cock into her arse. She cries out but then relaxes into it, pushes back slowly and suddenly I'm deep inside her. You then slip round in front of her, kneel before her, and – in compensation for her all suffering – lick her pretty pussy again, as her arse is being fucked. Soon she is crying out in a different voice, coming to her second orgasm; as I hear her moaning in pleasure, my come pumps into her anus.

And then at last it is your turn again. Would you like to sixty-nine with Alice? Would you like Alice to fuck you with the strap-on that she has brought in her bag? Would you like me to whip you as she sucks you another orgasm? Would you like to be forced to masturbate in front of us?

No, I think what you would like most of all is that poor punished, sodomized, Alice would wreak her revenge and punish you in your turn. I'd watch her naked body glisten as first she paddles you, and then she renews your stripes from last night. The fire in your bottom lights again, the excitement courses through your body burning, burning. I hold you tight, kissing you, frigging you, as Alice plies the rod; I feel the strokes judder through you, and already I feel my own excitement mount again. Then, when you can take no more, our two sets of lips would travel all over you, fingers, tongues, dildos penetrating every orifice, until you came to the most shattering orgasm of your life.

So babe, you really must win that lottery!

Love and kisses
Sam

* * *

That's the letter I sent before visiting Polly a few days ago. It was indeed great to see her, to feel again the curves of her body pressed against me. She had a lovely surprise for me too.

'I've something to tell you!' she said, as I began to undress her.

'Don't tell me! You've won the lottery.'

'No. But I have been with another woman for the first time...'

She tells me about her experience; by strange coincidence, it must have been the very same night I was writing the letter. A few days before, Polly and some girl friends had been talking about their fantasies, about the ways in which they'd like to experiment. Polly confessed her desire to make love with another girl, and one of her friends set her up with a date – a very pretty young blonde girl of twenty three (who, it turned out, had a lovely figure and a shaved pussy). And so, a couple of nights later, having drunk a bottle of wine together, at first slightly awkwardly, Polly made the first move; soon they went to bed, and suddenly it all felt relaxed and utterly natural. The two spent the whole night together, making love repeatedly.

'I lost count how many time we came. It was wonderful.'

'Do you want to do it again?'

'Oh yes, oh yes...'

'Did you spank her?'

'No, not really. My only regret that is that we didn't have toys to play with... I would have loved to whip her.'

'Did you do this?' I asked, as my finger strays inside Polly's sweet rosebud.

'Oh yes,' she whispered, 'I asked her to finger-fuck my bum the second time; then I did her, which she loved too.'

She tells me more.

'You have been very naughty,' I said. She sighed again. 'You should be punished.'

'Yes, please!'

Lying on the bed, a whip and a cane, and other instruments of pleasurable pain, lay ready to play with. Polly lifted her breasts towards me; I kissed her nipples hard erect, and slowly picked up the nipple clamps...