Diane was a woman I met in a bar, through her brother. It turned out, once we started to have sex, that she was a bit obsessed by vampirey stuff, and liked the colour of blood. She was happy to bite me, or for me to bite her. I didn’t want either option.
But it occurred to me that I’d never birched anyone before, and I’d always wanted to. And the Victorian accounts of birching that I’d read seemed to suggest that I’d be able to draw blood with a birch, on Diane’s arse, and so Id have increased my experience, and she’d be a happy girl.
I took her to the nearby park for her to collect the switches for a birch. You’ll have to go back to read the full story, but in the end Diane was heading home from a public park with her bottom already stinging, and carrying the birch I was going to use on her when she got home.
And, for very good reasons, she was wearing only a ripped shirt, a belt and sandals.