She arrived exactly on time; seven o'clock. I heard the doorbell ring and felt a small rush of adrenalin. With Amanda, I had learned to expect the unexpected. Thus the adrenalin.



I opened the door to all 5'11" of her, and smiled. She was so good at this. Standing there with her massage table and linen bag, dressed in loose‐fitting pants, a collared work shirt and tennis shoes, she looked every bit the part of a normal masseuse. In fact, any curious neighbor of mine probably wouldn't give her a second look.



But I did. I saw the deep red lips that contrasted so beautifully against her dark hair, pulled back in a ponytail. I saw the makeup that was a bit too sultry. Her dark eyes looked me up and down. She smiled and walked in my house without a word. I knew better than to say anything, even a word of greeting. It was not my place to speak first and I knew my place. I returned her smile and watched her walk in.



Amanda was tall and leggy with nice curves in nice places. No stick‐thin woman for me, I thought, closing the door behind her. Truth be told, though, I would have likely declared whatever body type Amanda had as my favorite...because of what she brought to my life. Thrill after thrill...after thrill. And Lord knows I needed a few thrills to leave the stress of my career behind. Amanda consistently provided them....every Friday night.



After work on Fridays, I left one world and entered a completely different one. The definition of my job was telling people what to do. I directed, delegated, supervised, corrected, dictated and remonstrated all day, five days a week. I wore a suit and tie. I oozed control and importance. My job was so much about control that I couldn't wait to lose that control when I left the office. That's where Amanda fit into my life. She was more than happy to take that control and run with it.



Amanda was a professional masseuse. We'd met by chance at a Christmas party of mutual friends. After quite a few drinks, we ended up in a private corner confessing our sexual preferences to each other. Initial surprise and drunken giggles soon became delight as we realized our particular proclivities seemed perfectly suited to each other. That was six months ago, and we had tested and proven the "perfectly suited" theory...many times. I'd had relationships with good sex before, but never this exciting. Never a coupling that seemed to reach deep into my hidden fantasies, draw them out into the light and peruse them, tinker with them, play and dance with them. In a word, what we shared was Hot.



In the months since we met, our relationship had overflowed from the strictly sexual world into regular dating to our mutual delight. Still, we both voted to keep up the Friday night routine we had come to love...and look forward to with great anticipation.



Amanda was easily the most sexually provocative woman I'd ever met. There was a relaxed air of complete confidence that permeated her walk, her voice and her whole being. I found her confidence incredibly arousing in such a different way. She brought out a part of me that was intensely eager to please in a "tell me exactly what you want me to do" kind of way. No wonder my past sexual partners failed to satisfy me completely -- they had all expected me to be in charge. Not Amanda.



Wordlessly, she set up her table in the spacious living room. I closed the curtains and turned down the lights. Soon soft cotton sheets covered the table. Without being asked, I retrieved a few pillows from my bedroom and placed them on the table, guessing we would need them later. That earned me a sweet smile. Nodding at me in that deliciously deliberate manner, Amanda picked up her bag and went off down the hall to the bathroom.



I knew my part well. As soon as she closed the bathroom door I jumped into action. Amanda liked things a certain way and I so wanted to please her. Champagne came out of the refrigerator, was quickly opened and poured. Just one glass, for her. I set it on the table next to her favorite spot; an overstuffed red velvet chaise lounge that had a lush, erotic appearance to it. Visitors to my home often remarked how it was a lovely piece but didn't seem to fit in with the rest of my fairly masculine furnishings. True. It fairly reeked of sex. I would just smile and say it was a favorite.



I lit several candles and turned the lights down a little more. Then I quickly removed my suit, laying it carefully over the back of the couch. I'd gotten in trouble the last week for leaving my clothes in a heap on the floor. I was so excited to see her I forgot about my clothes. She wasn't pleased. I sat down carefully for 2 days following that incident! My cock throbbed just remembering it. I stripped down to my required underwear for Fridays; a thong.



Amanda had rules, most of which gave me a thrill to follow. This one I especially liked. When I dressed for work every Friday morning I was required to wear a thong. She had given me several in a variety of colors. All day I felt the thin strap of silky fabric lay tantalizingly between my ass cheeks and the pouch held my junk firmly in the front. All day my naked butt was right next to the soft fabric of my pants. I felt disconcerted and exposed, like everyone knew what kind of underwear I was wearing and what I was going to be doing that night. Controlling my cock took effort, focusing on work was sometimes a struggle. Consequently, on Fridays I tended to spend more time seated at my desk. All those sensations were a constant reminder of the pleasure that would arrive at my doorstep at seven o'clock. Though I arrived home at six, I wasn't allowed to take off my suit until Amanda arrived. No loosening my tie or even removing my shoes or jacket.



Now, I wore none of my business garb. As I stood waiting, nearly naked in my living room, I felt so clearly the contrast she intended. My suit in all of its constrained propriety was suddenly gone from my lean six foot frame, and I wore only the thong. This morning I had chosen the purple one. Gone was the power suit. Instead, my naked skin tingled with a heightened sensitivity. I ran my hands nervously through my thick blond hair and rubbed the 2 day beard I always wore. I felt bare and vulnerable. Standing with my feet slightly apart I clasped my hands behind my back and waited for Amanda.



I glanced down at my cock, still at half mast remembering my punishment from last Friday. The deep purple fabric stretched as my need for space grew. Ahh...the waiting. Anticipation brought such delicious excitement. I'd felt it all day.



Finally, I heard the click of the bathroom door and straightened my posture. I looked up to see Amanda walking down the hall -- a vision of steamy sensuality and power. She'd loosed her silky hair and soft dark curls surrounded her face and fell over her smooth white shoulders. She wore a strapless black leather bustier which presented her ample breasts for optimum viewing. Her forearms had intriguing black leather cuffs from wrist to elbow. An impossibly short black leather skirt covered neither the tops of her shocking red stockings nor the black garters that held them up. Four inch black leather come-fuck‐me heels completed her outfit. I couldn't take my eyes off the stockings, so startlingly red amidst all the black. They looked so out of place I was fascinated by them. It was then that I saw the riding crop in Amanda's right hand, held loosely at her side. The end of it brushed her calf as she walked. I shivered involuntarily.



She sauntered slowly up to me and stood so close I could feel the heat of her skin. I inhaled her scent, a spicy vanilla sandalwood mix she always wore. Now 6'3", Amanda looked down at me, held my blue eyes with her brown ones and paused, her look self-assured and playful. She was so good at drawing out the moment. Timing and anticipation was everything. Finally she lifted my chin with her fingers and brought her lips to mine. The kiss started soft, lips caressing lips and tongues dancing gently together. She pulled back, held my gaze for a moment and then returned to my waiting tongue. We kissed for a long, sweet moment. Jesus...I'd been dreaming of this all day.



Without breaking our kiss she pulled me firmly against her, her hand at the small of my back. I took a step forward to close the gap between us. Her mouth opened wide and she demanded my tongue, which I gave eagerly. Her red, luscious lips pressed hard against mine and her arm went round my neck to hold my mouth to hers...for her pleasure.



My hands remained behind my back as Amanda kissed me. I knew the rules. She broke the kiss, leaving me breathing a little harder and my cock a lot harder. Reaching up with one hand she gently twisted each of my nipples in turn and I gasped. She walked around behind me. My thoughts returned to the crop and I felt my ass tense up. She took my hands and gently separated them, placing them at my sides.



I heard her low voice murmur, "Mmmmm...I do love you in purple." I felt her warm hand caress my tense cheeks and squeeze each one in turn. I was proud of my butt, actually. I worked out hard four days a week and had even consulted with a trainer to achieve the firm, round, muscular bottom I now possessed. I knew Amanda loved it. To my surprise I did not feel the kiss of the crop. Instead, she walked away, settled herself on the red velvet lounge and sipped her champagne.



"Hello Nash."



I took a mental snapshot of the moment; a vision in red and black with creamy thighs and breasts that teased me to my very core. I watched her lay back and cross her legs, knowing the piece of leather attempting to pass for a skirt did little to cover her down-covered lips peeking out clearly from underneath, and being quite unconcerned about it. She never wore panties. She said they just got in the way, and why cover something that beautiful? I had to agree.



"Hello Amanda." I tried to sound calm, but it was a challenge, as usual. Tonight my cock was already ferociously hard, peeking its head out of the top of my thong.



"So how's my boy tonight?"



"...Excited." I had difficulty getting the word out.



"Excited? Good. Because tonight, I brought a new toy for you." She held up the crop that had not left her hand. It was medium in length with a flexible rod. Attached to the end was a soft piece of doubled-over leather. She whistled it through the air and my ass clenched again.



"Come here, Nash. Undies off." Amanda's voice was soft but there was no room for disobedience. I could think of nothing but the crop, but I complied.



I had the thong off in a flash and was standing at Amanda's side. I watched as one hand brought the champagne to her lips while the other hand ran her fingers over my hard cock, now at her eye level. She spent time teasing and caressing my cock and balls with a light touch...a touch that made me want nothing but more and harder. I resisted the urge to slip my hardness between those full red lips; definitely against the rules. I was in heaven as her fingers traced around the head of my cock, producing my first moan of the evening. The delicious sensations ceased when she held out her empty glass to me in a wordless request. I dashed into the kitchen to refill it, my cock waving in front of me. When I returned and handed her the glass, she smiled and sipped more...and then her eyes fell upon my thong in all its purple glory, on the floor.



"Nash, baby...what's that?" She gestured with her glass.



"Uhhh...my thong." Damn. What could I say?



"Why is it on the floor?"



"I'm sorry Amanda. I was so excited..." I trailed off. I quickly picked it up, folded them and placed them next to my suit.



"Yes." She smiled. "You did say you were excited. But that is no excuse for not taking care of your things...especially a present from me."



"I'm sorry...Y..You're right."



Amanda gave a low throaty laugh. "Yes...I am. Prepare for your punishment, Nash." No matter how many times I heard those words uttered, even though I knew they were coming...still the thrill.



Okaaaaay. The adrenalin returned big‐time as I walked to the end of the massage table, spread my legs and laid my upper body down on the soft cotton sheet. That crop scared me. Amanda had a bag that she'd pull new toys out of pretty regularly, but I'd never seen a crop. Last week with the suit mistake she'd paddled the hell out of my bottom with a wooden hairbrush. This could be worse. I took a couple of deep breaths.



"You really need to take care of the things I give you, Nash." I heard her approach me and I willed myself to relax. No matter how many times we played this way I still felt the slight rush of fear. I loved it...it got me off like nothing else. Nearly every Friday Amanda would discover some transgression of mine; a reason to punish my ass. I looked forward to it. I loved the helpless, vulnerable sensation of my naked ass in the air, waiting for Amanda's hand or paddle to fall...or tonight I guess it was her crop. I trusted Amanda and would do just about whatever she asked...but a riding crop? Jesus Christ.



She stood behind me and slowly spread my cheeks, again stroking my ass gently with a finger and sending pleasure coursing through me. Ahhh...that choice again...open to the pleasure or anticipate the punishment. It was an interesting push pull I was very familiar with.



"What will you do with your thong when you take it off next time?" Her voice was stern behind me -- she meant business. Her touch was gone.



"I will fold it and lay it carefully next to my suit."



"That's right." The first stroke came as she emphasized the word. My mouth opened in a silent O as I pushed my face into the table. Yes, it stung all right, and the heat followed quickly. "Don't say another word," she commanded, landing another stroke on my other cheek, just as hard. I kept silent as she had asked. In fact neither of us uttered another word for the rest of my punishment, which kind of freaked me out. I was so used to Amanda announcing the number of strokes I was to receive and then I had to count them aloud as she applied them to my ass. There was a reassurance in that; knowing how many were left, steeling myself to be able to handle that number.



But this was craziness... I lay there flinching from the strokes, feeling completely un‐tethered. I was so unnerved that I didn't even think to count the strokes in my head. As the crop cracked down again and again, sometimes soft and sometimes hard, I felt my cock, rock hard and throbbing against the table underneath me. Again, and in a different way, I was in heaven.



Amanda paused occasionally to caress my balls or perhaps to give my red, angry rear a break. Some of her pauses were so long I thought my punishment ended. Then another sting would land on my hot, sore ass, and I'd jump and squirm. Her crop was not actually any more painful than the other implements she had used to punish my butt in the past, just scarier. The way it whistled through the air...the way it stung.



Suddenly she applied 5 strokes in quick succession to each cheek, no pauses. I struggled mightily to stay in position. Usually Amanda would crank up the intensity just before my punishment ended...but tonight I wasn't sure about anything. She placed the crop on a couch next to us, right where I could see it, and then caressed my hot bottom gently with her cool fingers. I felt myself unwind, relax, open up. She bent down to kiss the back of my neck. I felt her hot breath. My cock, balls and ass -- sore as it was ‐ all ached with a need for...more. God, just more. It was insatiable, that desire. A Pavlovian response? Perhaps. With Amanda, my body had certainly learned that good things always came after "punishments".



"Come here, Nash." Amanda's voice was rough and smoky. I straightened up from the table, turned to face her and she took me in her arms, pulling me close and soothing my sore cheeks with her touch. Then she took one of my hands down between us, pulled up that leather skirt and inserted my middle two fingers into her slippery wetness. I dared to caress her clit briefly and she pushed against my fingers in response.



"Taste." I pushed my fingers deep inside her and then brought them to my mouth, savoring the flavor of her. I knew our games got Amanda off just as much as me. She drew me to her lips for a breathy kiss, tasting herself on my tongue. My body melted into hers and she held me firmly, possessively, gently teasing my lips with hers. I felt her pelvis push against my cock, acknowledging its presence. The cool leather of her skirt felt good against my nakedness. As we kissed, Amanda pulled my ass cheeks apart and trailed a finger up my crack, producing an involuntary gasp when she paused to tease my anus. I so wanted it.



Her next words were a surprise, spoken in a whisper. "Touch me." That was my permission to unclasp my hands from behind my back and explore Amanda's soft loveliness...within limits. In times past I had been clumsy and too eager, going straight to her nipples and crotch. The paddle had fallen hard on those occasions. Through trial and error (and let's face it, even the errors had pleasant outcomes) Amanda had basically trained me to know exactly what she liked. And no matter how wet she was she liked a slow start. I ran my fingers slowly and sensuously over any place I could find bare skin...the tops of her thighs, her soft bottom, her shoulders and neck, her arms and hands.



Our lips were connected again in another kiss, my head tilted up to hers. The way she held me, her height in those heels and her confidence all combined to turn me buttery soft inside, utterly willing to do as she pleased. Being subjugated for Amanda's pleasure rocked my world in a way I had a hard time explaining to myself. I wasn't into humiliation. The most pain I was into was a good spanking to warm up my bottom. But the thought of basically being Amanda's bitch, to do with as she pleased? That was a kick I never tired of.



I trusted her with my willingness. And parts of me emerged with Amanda that surfaced in no other way. Writhing, ecstatic, impossibly hot parts. Gone was Nash the CEO, Nash the guy in charge, Nash the Head Honcho and the Craving, Nasty Nash appeared. My kink drawer was open, I enjoyed my spankings and looked forward to obeying every command Amanda gave me, shamelessly. Because she knew me...all of me.



My hands soothed and caressed her soft skin, lifting her skirt and tracing circles on her smooth, round butt. She sighed in pleasure and pushed against me a little harder, rolling her hips rhythmically. I felt her take my hand and push my fingers back inside her wetness, and I zeroed in on her g-spot, another thing she'd trained me to do. As our endless kiss continued, my hand and her hips created a nice rhythm for a lovely slice of time. The head of my stiff cock rubbed against her thigh, teasing me. Amanda moved away slowly and reluctantly, leaving me with cock waving and hands that returned to their position behind my back, with no soft curves to touch...but not until after I'd licked her juices from my fingers.



Draining her glass of champagne, she turned and smiled at me. "On the table, Nash." Yes! I loved it when she let me lay on the table. It had been a long time since we played that way. I took the pillows, placed them under my hips and lay face down. Ass presented for your pleasure, Ma'am, I thought. I flexed my ass cheeks for show. Her teasing earlier had been a clue -- it was an ass night.



So right when I thought I knew what was happening, Amanda threw in a twist. A silk scarf came around my face. I lifted my head slightly to allow her to tie it snugly into place over my eyes. Damn. Now I was Amanda's blindfolded bitch. The alliteration was not lost on me, even with my rear in the air, hard cock pushing in to the pillows and my ass still hot and sore. I laughed a little giggle of nervousness.

