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Once again we signaled the tower and made our way onto the strip. Once again we were soon airborne.Again the sensations were exhilarating. The weather was beautiful in New Jersey. My companion was wonderful. She was talkative and looked so hot.As we made our way along the coastline, it was my turn to take the controls. Since I was still relatively new at this I really had not been controlling the plane till now."Your turn, Alan. Pull back on the yoke to gain elevation slightly," Jill said.I pulled back on the yoke and watched the needle on the altimeter rise. The way she spoke to me made something else start to rise. An idea flashed into my head. I spoke."Hello, this is Alan and I'll be your captain this evening. We will be flying at an altitude of 5280 feet. That is exactly one mile high. Kindly unfasten your seatbelts and I will unfasten the rest. Thank you."I looked over at Jill and she gave me a huge smile. She unfastened her seatbelt and I unfastened mine. She then reached over. The paddle softly rubbed back and forth across the spot where it had struck her bottom, easing the sting only slightly as he rubbed the wood across those red marks on her ass. Then quickly Sam struck each of her cheeks sharply, and she cried out a bit before gasping at the fresh pain to her buttocks, gripping the covers of the bed with her hands. 'Wow Sam!' she gasped. 'This is completely different from using that paddle on myself!' 'Of course it is Carol. You can't get a solid swat from yourself. I think we need to save this position for when you have a bit more experience dear. Why don't you go ahead and lay on the bed, but keep your legs over the edge just below the knees.' She readily accepted his suggestion, rubbing her butt tenderly with one hand as she lay across the bed. Her real surprise came as his hands spread her legs apart as he said, 'I need to know if you are being aroused by this Carol.' And he slipped his hand to her crotch before she could speak, easily sliding.
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The film company who were bound to ‘love me’ had gone down the toilet, together with the film I had auditioned for, and where was my half-completed course at drama school going to get me now? Where I was, at that moment, trying to make impossible figures stack up, was in the grotty office of a big video rental empire, which had thirty stores in nearby towns. ‘What’s up, sweetheart?’ asked Carla, my work-colleague, a spiky-orange-haired, much-pierced Goth wisp of a girl in a black shift over black tights, ‘you look proper pissed-off!’ ‘I am, Carla,’ I said, and gave her a brief run-down on my fiscal status. ‘Shit!’ she said, then went off to answer the phone. When she came back, I was filing away papers. ‘Hey, Julie,’ she said, ‘can you stand having your arse caned?’ ‘What sort of a question is that?’ I asked. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I’m serious. Do you think you could stand your arse being caned – hard?’ I looked at her earnest little face and burst out laughing. She turned half away. ‘If.

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