They had decided to settle the bet off-base and to that end Ann had come to John’s London flat in Kensington. It was a small place at the top of a Georgian terrace house in side road off Holland Street. John told her that the landlord had had the apartment sound-proofed and that they wouldn’t be disturbed.

“Drink?” He asked pouring two large cognacs without waiting for her answer. She took one and swigged half of it down, although he just swirled his a bit as he stood watching.

Ann was as nervous as hell and not a little excited. She wore a simple grey dress which served a dual purpose of street wear and something by way of a smart-casual outfit for dinner. That was if he still wanted to take her.

The dress, although loose, clung to her in all the right places. Ann noticed his wolfish grin and wondered if she wasn’t playing with fire.

“What’s that?” He asked pointing at the large floppy black holdall she had with her. “A bit large for a handbag.”

She blushed and sucked in her cheeks and tried to put him down with a snotty look. He didn’t bite, but merely returned a quizzical stare.

With a deep sigh she pulled the zip and extracted the cane she had borrowed from home. Not the military grade one she had last felt, the very thought of that one still made her shudder, but it was a decent enough weighted dragon cane nonetheless.

“I thought you might want this,” she said as scornfully as she could manage tossing the stick onto his coffee table.

“That’s a serious bit of kit isn’t it? I was just going to give you a good spanking to put you in your place a bit,” he said smoothly beginning to wonder what he had got himself into.

“I am not going over your knee like a child. A bet’s a bet and I’ll take my licks, but not your way,” she tried to sound firm, but even to her it sounded a little sullen.

He nodded and put down his drink. “I understand.”

“How do you want me?” She was shaking a little now and the words were thick in her throat.

“You seem to be an expert, you tell me,” he said picking up the cane. “I generally spank a girl on the bare, but you can chicken out if you want to.” It was a deliberate provocation, he had no intention of letting her off now that they had come this far.

She bristled and the blushed again. In the corner was a chair exactly like the one her father had. He followed her gaze.

“School or home?” he asked as he realised what she was thinking.

“Both,” she whispered. “My father…”

He nodded. “Over you go then.” He swiped the air with the cane, making her jump despite herself.

She licked her lips and then turned her back on him. This was insane, Ann thought, as she reached under the skirts of her dress and began to work her knickers down.

He smiled as he watched her do a little shimmy, shaking her hips from side to side as her knickers appeared below her hemline and onto her thighs. As she stepped out of them something caught in his throat and he felt himself stiffen.

Ann was equally aroused now and drawing on a little bravado she gently raised her skirt to reveal her pale round bottom before sensuously sliding over the back of the chair.

“Bloody hell,” he gasped as she pushed her bottom up at him.

It was strange and exciting for Ann to be bent over offering a man her bare bottom. If she was honest then sometimes she had felt a frisson with her father, but nothing like this. Then as John tapped her bottom with the cane she gasped, shifting her elbows a little where they lay pressed against the base of the chair.

“We haven’t started yet,” he murmured as he patted her bottom some more, letting the smooth hard stick slip across her even smoother flesh.

“How many?” she asked, her voice muffled by the leather pressing into her face.

He had no idea. At school it was rarely more than eight and more usually six. For a grown woman and a soldier yet perhaps he should double it. Twice six or eight, he pondered.

“Sixteen,” he said at last.

From beneath her hair Ann’s eyes widened, but she had had worse from Daddy. “Bring it on Lieutenant Casemore,” she said defiantly.

“Only Acting Lieutenant, my bare-bottomed 2nd Lieutenant, but yes, let’s have a ‘sir’ to go with that,” he used his parade ground voice. It was true, as top cadet he had already received a temporary promotion, although officially he did not take up post for three days so they were still technically the same rank; a moot, but possibly important detail if this escapade ever came out.

“Yes Sir,” she said quickly, thrilling at the enforced submission.

The cane stroke came suddenly and she moaned in surprise through clenched teeth. It was the hardest stroke she had ever received. The hardest until the second cut across her bottom as sharp as a dress sword.

She could not supress an angry groan and this time she had to stamp her feet in an attempt to shake out the pain. Come back Daddy, all is forgiven, she prayed. I will not cry, I will not, she let the mantra run through her head as stroke followed stroke.

At seven or eight, she wasn’t certain, she yelled and began to claw at the leather upholstery, her breathing ragged like a machine gun.

“You wanted this,” he accused. “I just wanted to give you a playful smack-bottom.”

She nodded, her face wet with tears.

“Shall I commute the sentence to a simple over the knee spanking?” He asked seriously.

When she didn’t reply he caned her again, right where she sat.

“Oh fuck,” she screamed leaping to her feet and dancing around the room. Never with Daddy had it been so bad.

“That will cost you an extra stroke,” he growled.

“Please John, please I…” she pleaded with him with her eyes.

“Over my knee then?”

She nodded vigorously and ran to his arms.

“Shush,” he soothed and hugged into her. “I suppose I could always spank you tomorrow?”

“Oh you darling man,” she gushed, kissing him. “You bested me, no other man in the regiment could have done it.”

He wasn’t sure about that, but scooped her up in his arms anyway. Dinner would become breakfast instead.

The next morning he had pulled her over his knee for the spanking of her life. The first of many as it turned out. She even had the good grace to cry again, which wasn’t that difficult given that the stripes on her bottom still felt like hot wires under the skin.

To be continued…