Bend Over Jessica

Whilst Jessica is not a sylph, but a curvy girl, I do like to keep fit. I used to play team games like netball, but that’s harder when you have a job and a husband and a kinky life to keep up. I’d find going to the gym on my own rather dull. So three times a week, I visit my personal trainer.

Now, my personal trainer is a lovely man who knows all about my kinky life. But I emphasise that he is totally straight. He listens to tales of kink with amusement, but is not remotely interested in pursuing any aspect himself.

Despite this, I still manage to find some PT sessions quite hot in a kinky sense. Not because I fancy my trainer – I don’t. But just the situation can provoke all kinds of rude thoughts. There’s something about being forced to get tired and sweaty, to push myself hard and to be taken beyond endurance that works for me. And sometimes, my trainer can inadvertently push all the right buttons without meaning to.

Such as when he says sharply “Hurry up! Stop whinging!” or “Just make an effort or I’ll give you a heavier weight”.

Or when he says “I’m really going to work you hard today.”

Or “Let’s move up another level, shall we?”

Or the bits where he marks my latest time on a machine and compares it to my previous times, slight frown on his face as he works out whether today’s effort was good, bad or somewhere in-between.

Or the wonderful day where, convinced I wasn’t making enough effort on the treadmill, he buckled heavy weights round my ankles and made me run faster whilst exhorting me to work harder.

Now when my fantasies run on a little bit and suddenly, my trainer isn’t my trainer but Alan Rickman training me whilst dressed as the Sherriff of Nottingham, we get to the point where I haven’t tried hard enough and I’m going to be punished. My damp shorts and knickers will be tugged down and I’ll bent over ready for something to lash hard across my naked bottom, reminding me that maximum effort is always required – or else.

Oooo. I love an early morning start!