It all started with a message in my Swinging Heaven Inbox:

"Hello - I hope you don't mind me messaging you. I have really enjoyed reading your stories. I am married, and my husband and I used to swing, but these days he seems to have lost interest in sex, whilst my own appetite is as high as ever, but I never get any attention from him. I set up this account on here again to see if anything caught my attention but have never had the nerve to actually meet anyone, but have mainly been reading the stories. And then I read your stories, and I have not been able to stop thinking about the scenes you describe. I have never tried anything like that, but I now know that is what I need. Would you be interested in chatting?"

We'd been messaging for weeks after that first tentative message. She'd reached out about my experience and thoughts, her comments growing progressively bolder until she'd suggested meeting. We had established we were both lapsed squash players, so decided to meet for a game and a coffee to see how we got on in person.

The squash ball ricocheted off the front wall with a satisfying thwack, and I watched Kay lunge for it, just a fraction too late. The ball bounced twice before she could reach it.

"Game point," I called out, unable to keep the satisfaction from my voice. It had been a close game, we were of similar standard, but I was edging it and was closing in on taking the all important first game. She straightened up, breathing hard, her face flushed from exertion. Her athletic top clung to her body with sweat, and even in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the court, she looked stunning.

I finished off the first game on the next point, and then she levelled our match with a close fought second game. "Best of three?" she proposed. "Winner takes all?" I knew exactly what she meant and knew I had to up my game for the decider. Points were traded back and forth, until I drew out a slim lead, and got ready to serve at match point. I served the final point. It was a clean ace into the back corner that she didn't even attempt to return. The match was mine, 2-1.

Kay walked to the centre of the court, extending her hand. "Well played," she said, her voice slightly breathless. When I took her hand, she held my gaze. "I suppose I owe you a forfeit."

"You do," I agreed. "My place. Six o'clock tonight?"

Her pupils dilated slightly. "I'll be there."

At precisely six o'clock, my doorbell rang. I'd spent the intervening hours preparing, anticipation building with each passing minute. When I opened the door, Kay stood there in her work clothes—a charcoal grey pencil skirt that hugged her hips, a crisp white blouse, and heels that added three inches to her height. Her dark hair was pulled back in a professional bun.

"Come in," I said, stepping aside.

She entered, and I caught the scent of her perfume—something subtle and expensive which seemed to suit her appearance. I closed the door behind her and locked it. The click of the lock seemed loud in the quiet hallway.

"You came straight from work?" I asked.

"Yes. I didn't want to be late."

I circled around her slowly, taking in the view. "Good girl. Now, let's see what you're wearing under those professional clothes."

Her breath caught, but she didn't move. I had to overcome her hesitance.

"Come on now, this is the evening you have wanted for so long. Strip for me, Kay. Slowly. I want to watch."

Her hands moved to the top button of her blouse, fingers trembling slightly as she undid it. Then the second button. The third. With each button, more of her skin was revealed—the hollow of her throat, the swell of her breasts. When she reached the final button and let the blouse fall open, I saw that she'd followed my instructions from our messages.

No bra.

Her breasts were perfect—full and firm, nipples already hardening in the cool air of my house. She shrugged the blouse off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

"Keep going," I said, my voice low.

She reached behind her for the catch of her skirt. The sound of it lowering seemed to fill the room. She pushed the skirt down over her hips, and it lay at her feet. She stepped out of it, standing before me in only French knickers—delicate, lacy things that left little to the imagination—and her heels.

"Beautiful," I murmured, stepping closer. I ran one finger along the edge of the knickers, feeling her shiver under my touch. "But these need to come off too." She hooked her thumbs into the waistband and drew them down slowly, revealing herself completely, her shaven mound exposed, and her lower lips engorged with blood in her anticipation. When she straightened up, she was naked except for her heels, standing in my hallway, waiting for my next instruction.

"Follow me."

I led her through the house to my playroom—a spare bedroom I'd converted for exactly this purpose. In the middle of the ceiling was a sturdy hook, and hanging from it was a length of soft rope with padded cuffs attached.

Kay's eyes widened when she saw it, but she didn't hesitate when I gestured for her to stand beneath it.

I took her wrists, one at a time, and secured them in the cuffs. The click of them closing was the loudest sound in the room and defined the status that we were now entering. Then I pulled the rope taut, raising her arms above her head until she was stretched up on her toes, her body elongated and vulnerable. The position thrust her breasts forward and left her completely exposed.

"You lost the match," I said, circling her slowly. "And now you pay the forfeit. You're going to receive two dozen strokes. A dozen with my hand, and a dozen with the flogger. You'll count each one. If you lose count, we start over. Understood?"

"Yes," she whispered. The tension was solid, and you could have cut it with a knife.

I positioned myself behind her, admiring the curve of her back, the swell of her bottom. I rested my hand on her right cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin, the slight trembling of her body. Gently I stoked her buttocks, enjoying every touch, every second.

"Ready?"

"Yes Andy"

I raised my hand and brought it down with controlled force. The slap echoed in the room, and I saw a red handprint form on her skin before my eyes.

"One," she gasped.

I delivered the second strike to her left cheek, with the same response. "Two."

I established a rhythm, alternating cheeks, each strike placed with precision. The sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the room, punctuated by her counting. Her voice grew more strained with each number, but she never faltered.

"Six... seven... eight..."

Her bottom was glowing now, pink and warm under my palm. I could see her fingers gripping the rope above her head, her body swaying slightly with each impact.

"Eleven...Oh God...... twelve..."

I paused, running my hand over her heated skin, feeling the warmth radiating from her punished flesh. She was breathing hard, her body trembling. Sweat was covering every inch of her flesh from the tension and the adrenaline.

"Well done, Kay," I murmured. "You took those well. But now comes the flogger."

I walked to the cabinet in the corner of the room, and pulled out my flogger, a long braided leather handle rested nicely in my hand, with 20 or so leather tails flowing from it. A beautiful piece with that would deliver a different sensation entirely. When I returned, I let the tails trail across her back and then her breasts and finally her buttocks, letting her feel the leather against her skin.

"Twelve more," I said. "Same rules."

I removed my shirt as I too was feeling the heat of the moment and stood behind her bare chested. I drew the flogger back and let the leather tails lash across both cheeks. The impact was broader than my hand, the sensation more diffuse but no less intense. The leather falls created a satisfying thud.

"One!" Her voice was stronger now, accepting.

I continued, each stroke placed with care, watching the leather kiss her skin, seeing her body respond. The flogger left a different kind of mark. It made the whole area a deeper flush, a more pervasive warmth.

"Five... six... seven..."

She was crying now, but not from pain—from release, from surrender. Each stroke seemed to drive something out of her, leaving her more open, more vulnerable. She was hanging more from the rope now, letting her arms take the strain, swinging around with my rhythm.

"Ten... eleven... twelve!"

I set the flogger aside and released the rope, lowering her arms. She collapsed forward, and I caught her, supporting her weight. Her skin was hot against mine, her breathing ragged.

"You did beautifully," I said, guiding her to her knees.

She looked up at me, her eyes glazed with submission and desire. Without being told, her hands moved to my belt, undoing it with practised ease. The trousers were undone and pulled down with my boxers and my erect cock sprang to attention in front of her face. I stepped out my clothes, and then her mouth was on me, warm and wet and eager.

I groaned as she took my cock deep, her tongue working magic, her lips creating perfect suction. She knew exactly what she was doing, and I let her work, my hands tangling in her hair, guiding her rhythm. The sight of her on her knees, her punished bottom still glowing, her mouth wrapped around me—it was almost too much.

"Enough," I said, pulling her up. "On your hands and knees. Now."

She positioned herself on the floor, her back arched, presenting herself to me. I knelt behind her, running my hands over her heated bottom, feeling her shiver. I positioned myself at her entrance, my hands and fingers feeling how wet she was, how ready.

I pushed inside slowly, feeling her stretch around me, her warm wet pussy eating me, hearing her moan as I filled her completely. She was tight and hot and perfect. I gripped her hips and began to move, each thrust deep and controlled, maintaining the dominance I'd established from the moment she'd arrived.

"Yes," she gasped. "Please..."

I lost track of time, my thrusts pushing her back and forward again and again, my body slapping into her red buttocks again and again. I increased my pace, one hand moving around to find her clit, circling it in time with my thrusts. I could feel her building, her body tensing, her moans becoming more desperate.

"Come for me," I commanded.

She shuddered and came like a woman possessed letting her demon escape, her body clenching around me, crying out as the orgasm crashed through her. The sensation of her pulsing around me pushed me over the edge, and I followed her into ecstasy, emptying myself inside her with a groan.

We collapsed together on the floor, both breathing hard, our bodies slick with sweat. After a moment, I pulled her against me, holding her close.

"Worth losing the match?" I asked.

She laughed breathlessly. "Absolutely. I knew you could give me what I needed. Though next time, I might try to win."

"Next time," I agreed, already planning what I'd do with her then.