“I know you’re all peeking, you rude boys love this, don’t you?” Caz runs her hands slowly, from ankle to thigh, up a black stocking-clad leg. Shares a conspiratorial look with her rapt online audience while re-fastening a suspender clip. Turning her back on the camera she bends over, allowing eager viewers the delightful vision of a curvaceous bottom. Seductively slides down semi-translucent panties, lifting each high-heeled foot to remove them completely.
“Gosh, I’m such a bad girl, you can see my bare bum, even glimpse my pink pussy lips peeking between my thighs. Damp and glistening, because I’m thinking of you and how good it’d feel to have your big cock pushing deep inside me doggy style.” Caz stays in situ, allowing her punters a long pause to ‘relieve their tension’. Big cock, fat chance, she reflects wryly.
Don’t rush to fill the silence, Caz reminds herself; goodness knows (although to paraphrase Mae West, goodness has nothing to do with it) padding these videos out to a reasonable running time isn’t easy. Careful pacing is key, the slow-build succession of familiar erotic tropes, the repetitive choreography of revelation and removal. Blessed with an enviable cleavage and, no point in being coy, excellent legs, Caz knows how best to ensure her online clients remain entranced and renew their subscriptions, however much they claim to crave fresh content, her subscribers prefer this tried and tested formula.
She teases a nipple from her low-cut bra, gently squeezing it while running her tongue salaciously over sultry red lips.
“Bet you gentlemen would love to suck on this? Look how it’s standing up ready for you,” Caz purrs. Dangles a shoe from painted toes for the foot fans, twangs a suspender strap (Americans term them ‘garters,’ Americans are wrong), and traces a stocking seam to thrill the nylon obsessives. Keeping her one-handed audience panting and wanking Caz sits on a chair, thighs spread wide, and dips a finger into her delightfully damp pussy. Acting out these scenarios is arousing, whether it should be is a question for a different time.
Half closing her eyes and pouting, she strokes her throbbing clit.
“Oh yes,” moans Caz, reaching for her favourite vibrator, thrusting her pussy into prominence to further delight the heavy-breathing aficionados, watching wide-eyed as the ersatz phallus pistons in and out. Her orgasm is completely authentic; just as well, the paying public is all too used to being conned and soon spots a fake. How strange, reflects Caz, I’m physically stimulated yet mentally disengaged, an out-of-body sexual experience. Right this moment she’d give anything to be properly fucked by her husband Ryan, who so far remains ignorant of these escapades.
A few months previously, Caz had shamelessly copied this innovative money-making caper from a feature in an impeccably woke English newspaper. Apparently, students and precariously employed professionals supplement their income by creating online web portals, catering to popular male fetishes. In contrast with most sex work, these anonymous women decide when and what to perform and keep most of the money; many operating from home. How hard could it be, Caz wondered? A self-employed web designer, already possessed of the necessary basic skills, she undertook some discreet investigations, carefully deleting her search history afterwards.
Blimey, what a revelation! A whole world of male obsession. For a beginner stocking worship websites seemed a good prospect, nothing overly explicit, most offering variations on flashing and talking dirty, filmed POV – point of view, there was a lot of jargon to learn. An initial investment in new lingerie proved pricier than anticipated; nylons, FF – fully-fashioned, another bloody acronym, the clear preference of putative patrons, but expensive or what?
To contain costs, Caz sought out revealing clothes and sky-high heels in charity stores. A blonde curly wig (bought with her standard excuse of “attending a fancy-dress party”) concealed Caz’s lustrous dark hair. This disguise further enhanced by make-up so liberally applied that even her closest friends, Caz fervently hoped, wouldn’t pick her out in an ID parade. Thick blusher, false lashes and lashings of mascara enhanced the exhibitionist, nympho girl-next-door look.
Initially just offering tempt ‘n tease upskirt views of knickers and stocking tops, encouraged by her punter’s enthusiastic (often graphic) feedback, Caz’s repertoire rapidly expanded to fingering and toying her pussy. Lately, she’d mused about adding a butt plug to her act…
Building a subscriber base for ‘Naughty Nylons’ (Caz’s domain name) began with Instagram and Twitter posts to spark potential customers’ curiosity. Short taster clips sent to free porn sites widened her appeal. Gratifying though the immediate response was, the pace of curating and creating new proved material relentless. Caz didn’t know how long she could pass this massively enhanced income off as payment for her usual line of work. At some point, she’d have to tell her husband the source of the cash.
Then disaster struck, Ryan discovered her costume stash and Caz has no choice but to confess.
“WTF is this?” asks Ryan striding into the room one evening with her dressing-up box. Caz is shocked, sure she’d hidden it securely. “How did you find that?” Not in retrospect the smartest reply. Ryan glares in response. “It’s not what you think,” Caz continues, desperation in her voice.
“And what might I think is going on?”
“I, er…”
“Joined an amateur dramatic society and cast as a tart with a heart? Taken up street walking? Having an affair? It’s not like I’ve noticed any new lingerie, or that we’ve done much fucking lately…” Only too true, Caz has been too exhausted simulating sex to have any.
“None of the above,” says Caz quickly, struggling to regain control of the conversation. “Sit down and have a drink – pour me one too. You may have trouble believing what I’m about to say, but I swear it’s true – and I’ve got proof.”
Eventually, the whole story comes out. Caz’s laptop displays clips of risqué performances sufficient to render Ryan dumbfounded. His wanton wife further astonishes him by showing the balance of a bank account created in their joint names.
“See, I haven’t been two-timing, that’s for our new home; you and me together.”
“Bloody hell, I thought I knew you.”
“I thought I knew me too.”
“Ignoring for a moment the sharing of your private parts with a global audience, which might be perceived as infidelity, how did you find the time?”
“That’s the dilemma, this thing has its own momentum, I can scarcely keep up; the stress has made me behave like a grumpy cow and I’m truly sorry. I need another camera but don’t have the technical know-how to use two at once. The audience wants new thrills and I’m not sure how far to go. Ryan, please help.”
Thankfully her man rises to the occasion, thinking on his feet.
“OK, how about this? I pitch in and we make it a proper partnership. Set a time limit on how long to continue; ramp up the raunchy content, maximise income then quit while we’re ahead.”
“Sounds like a plan,” says Caz, with heartfelt relief.
This decides Ryan privately, is an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. Reading through comments from avid online fans he’s discovered many would dearly love to see Caz receive a spanking. Which is opportune, Ryan has long wanted to introduce this very kink into their erotic activities. Subtle hints have thus far gone unheeded; time to take advantage of the situation and insist. He matter-of-factly announces this unilateral decision to his wife who, albeit with considerable trepidation but no way out of her current predicament, reluctantly agrees.
Dressed for action on the following Sunday, she discovers their lounge transformed into a makeshift film studio; Caz wanted a second camera, there are now three. Ryan, careful to keep out of shot, directs the scenario and films it, with a tiny wireless control.
“Hi guys, welcome back to ‘Naughty Nylons’. I’m the lucky chap married to your favourite stockings star. Since she’s been extremely badly behaved over the last few months, exposing herself to you all online, I’ve decided to take madam to task with a sound spanking, perhaps you’d like to share in the moment.” If ever a question was rhetorical…
Ignoring Caz’s token protests, he nods meaningfully at the recording light, while her loyal following collectively holds its breath. Can this be happening? Caz is preoccupied with much the same thought; the answer to both is, yes.
Tentatively lifting her skirt to reveal de rigueur seamed stockings, she’s reluctantly manoeuvred face down across her husband’s lap. Ryan slowly pulls down Caz’s skimpy panties and arranges his errant spouse for chastisement, switching from camera to camera to provide punters with a panoramic view of bounteous buttocks. In common with the audience, Ryan’s cock hardens in anticipation.
Looking directly at the lens and adopting a suitable expression of outrage and distress, Caz gyrates across Ryan’s lap while he smacks her bottom for the very first time; methodically covering every inch of those glorious cheeks. Pinned across his knees, delicious derriere prominently exposed, Caz yelps as ringing slaps make contact. There’s no need to play-act, it smarts, and Caz’s pale skin is soon marked red with the imprint of his palm. Oh dear, that last slap really stung, yet overall, this isn’t as bad as she’d feared. In fact, the hotter her hindquarters get, the wetter and more aroused Caz becomes.
“Let that be a lesson to you girl,” concludes Ryan theatrically, landing a final flurry of spanks on her pink buttocks. “Enough for the moment, I’m sure the fans will send ideas for future punishments. We’re relying on you guys to tell us what you want.”
“TTFN,” adds Caz, blowing a kiss to the nearest lens as he stops recording.
“I’m looking forward to seeing the playback of that starter session,” Ryan observes, “Shouldn’t need much editing, you did pretty well for a novice.”
“What do mean starter?” A note of disquiet is audible in Caz’s voice. “And you can let me stand up now.”
“Not so fast,” growls Ryan, holding her firmly in position. “That bum warming was purely for public consumption, a reckoning for keeping your money-making enterprise from me beckons.”
“But my bottom is already sore, I can’t take any more!” Caz’s anguish isn’t feigned.
“Can and will, you don’t get to choose.” Whatever became of her laconic easy-going partner? Ryan version 2.0 is strong-willed, forceful, and frankly, Caz is delighted by the transformation.
Her man sets to work, with a new leather paddle.
“What the actual fuck?” an outraged Caz exclaims.
“Enjoying the paddle? I’ve kept the receipt as a legitimate business tax expense,” grins Ryan.
“Ho bloody ho,” Caz grits her teeth, soon discovering how it inexorably heats a broad expanse of her taut posterior and hurts like hell, when applied to her thighs. Ignoring Caz’s plaintive wails of distress, Ryan continues until there’s only one possible denouement.
Struggling to her feet Caz pushes him backwards onto the couch, impatiently dragging down his jeans and boxers to free a rock-hard cock. Kissing him fiercely, she straddles her husband, cowgirl-style, guiding his erection into her sopping slot. Responding to this urgent abandon, Ryan thrusts eagerly as Caz skewers herself fully onto his penis.
“Spanking me seems to have made you bigger than usual,” she whispers huskily, tensing her internal muscles as he sinks deeper, rocking back and forth on his pulsating girth and already close to orgasm. Ryan reaches behind to squeeze his wife’s tender moons, eliciting a pained cry. Tipped over the edge by this harsh catalyst to pleasure, she climaxes noisily. However, her man isn’t done. “Now you’re going to get properly fucked,” he announces, turning Caz onto her back and parting her legs before plunging balls deep into her gaping pussy. This is Ryan’s moment, and he pounds Caz vigorously as she responds with equal abandon.
“Make me take it all,” says an excited female voice that turns out to be her own, “hard and deep.”
“Got to come,” he warns, urgently, Caz feels Ryan’s lower body convulse, ejaculating like a hot fountain. Ankles wrapped around his waist, holding him tight, they orgasm ecstatically.
To say the punters love the special ‘stockings and spankings’ episodes that follow is an understatement, consequently the pair’s planned retirement is postponed. Website subscriptions rise exponentially; a coveted home is purchased outright within months. Ryan quits his job to run the business from a garden studio, wherein Caz’s long-suffering rear end suffers a series of new implements – cane, tawse, you name it. At this rate, they’ll need to recruit a stunt double! Good job she doesn’t yet know what other fate fans have suggested might befall her bottom…
