Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 120: Raylene says sorry 1

assuprayleneRaylene bent herself back over the desk, getting her ass up, knowing the effect that would have on me, and keeping her face turned to Lynette, knowing the effect that was having on her. I could see the side of her face. She was smiling peacefully.

She was nearly naked, showing off fresh stripes across her arse. She was the centre of attention.

She was enjoying her caning both for the cane-induced spikes of arousal and for the notion that she was a girl under discipline, being properly submissive. And – it just can’t be said too often – she was near-naked and the centre of attention. 

So I made the seventh stroke hard, aiming low, meaning it to hurt. I could feel, as the cane landed across Raylene’s arse, something of the softness and firmness of her flesh, transmitted by the feel of the cane in my hand at the moment of impact. I loved that sensation.

stripedrayleneRaylene’s sensations were less subtle. She howled and shook while the red stripe formed and raised itself into a welt. But though her face was anguished, stricken with sudden pain, she fought to keep her breasts touching the desktop and her face turned to Lynette.

We watched in silence, broken only by Raylene’s gasps as she struggled to ride the pain out without losing her position. I felt proud of her, and of myself. The seven stripes were well spaced, three of them much brighter and darker then the others, and likely to remain clearly visible, I expected, for the next three or four days. That seemed about right for a first experience, even for a girl with a high pain tolerance.

Eventually Raylene was still, and breathing normally. The room smelled of sex, or more specifically of female sexual arousal. That would be mostly Raylene, but Lynette and Dorabella were both making their own contributions. This will always effect my judgment. I felt light and elated, elevated: sex-drunk. Fortunately, most of the important decisions had already been made. 

“Right. You’re a good girl, Raylene. Now get up. Off the table, stand straight.” 

Raylene muttered a quiet, “Yes, master.” I didn’t make her repeat it louder: she was nearly beyond words. She complied, straightening a little stiffly. 

I said, “Good. Hot girl.” I meant that her arse must be burning, and also that she looked utterly, unutterably fuckable. Raylene only smiled. She had no words. “Now turn and face Lynette.”

Raylene whispered something; I assume it was an even quieter “yes master”. She stopped smiling when she faced Lynette. What was coming was serious.

tshirtoff“Get that t-shirt off.” Raylene obeyed. Orders were good. They kept her focussed. “Now tell Lynette you’re sorry for being a silly, rude little girl, and that you’re learning your lesson now.”

Raylene made a little sound. It was lust. Her pain, her humiliation and her consciousness of her own obedience had delivered a sudden lightning blow, direct to her cunt. She opened her mouth, and no sound came. She coughed.

Lynette waited, expectant. 

Taking my Leda: the Swan’s tale

Leda lay face down over a pillow, ass upraised,

Fresh and pinkly paddled, human, dangerously beautiful.

(Danger? I could get lost in there.) My talons scratch

Down the backs of her thighs, slapping brutally,

Then tightening to possess her athlete’s relaxed

Softness. I pull her thigh closer, to open her,

Hard cock yearning at the soft, sweet, sea-shelled clasp

Of her cunt. I knead my human girl.


leda from behindShe makes that short, low moan that drives me to hold

And hurt her, and I must put my knees between hers,

A feathered god mounting his mortal. My bone-like need

Thrusts forward. She engulfs me in her universe.

I gasp amazed and wordless love, awed by unity,

Then I take my girl and she takes my divinity.

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 119: Raylene’s caning 6

betrayalRaylene was looking into Lynette’s eyes again. But it was too late for that. And I could see she was slightly shocked. She dropped her gaze suddenly, not wanting to look at her betrayer. 

I took the cane out of the clasp of Raylene’s cunt, making her gasp.

She gasped again when I tapped the wet section of bamboo against her arse. “Well, Raylene, it seems you’re a bad girl. Even when you’re being punished. You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“I’m sorry. I did try.”

“But not hard enough. You know Lynette’s coming to see us tonight.” Lynette didn’t react to that. She hadn’t definitely said she was coming to our bed at midnight. But by letting that pass she was conceding what everyone in that room already knew. “So I’ll deal with you then.”


“Master. Um. Please, master” – it seemed I had my rank back – “can I please take the extra strokes now? Please? I don’t want to have to spend the rest of today waiting for them. And” – she waggled her striped ass at me, which should have been persuasive enough – “having to think about it.”


canedcuntI touched the bamboo back to her cunt. “But you should think about it, Raylene love. I said I’m going to punish you later.”


Raylene dropped her arse, to press herself onto the cane. “Uhh… Yes, master. I’ll be thinking about it all right.”


“See?” Now I was talking to Lynette. “She is a good girl. Really.” 


“Master, do I apologise to Lynette now?”


I said, “No.”


Lynette stared at me, also shocked and betrayed. It seemed she’d been looking forward to that.


“Raylene, you’ve got a penalty stroke you’ve already earned. When you disobeyed me about looking down at the floor. You can have that now, as an add-on to your first six, or you can take it at the end of the second six. Do you want it now?”


Raylene rolled her hips, so her cunt took the cane in a little deeper. “Now, please master. I’d much rather.”


“That’s fine. Then you can apologise.” Raylene and Lynette both sighed. Happily. I wanted them, both at once, right then and there. And Dorabella: I wanted her mouth on my cock while I caned her sister. But I said and did nothing. Those things could happen some other time. I raised the cane. 

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 118: Raylene’s caning 5

over tableRaylene’s head bobbed, though she carefully kept her eyes on Lynette. “Yes, master. I’m ready to say sorry.”

“Good. Get your ass up a bit, girl. Straighten those legs.” 

“Yes, master.” She shuffled her feet a little further apart and arched her back.

Like a cat wanting to be fucked. Like a submissive girl wanting to display her cunt for her master, wanting to be good and wanting to be admired. Her cunt was puffy, and wet. The red stripes across her buttocks, two of them darkly raised, seemed to point towards that soft, sweet flower. So we were agreed, Raylene and I: she urgently needed to be fucked.

I raised the cane, though. There were things that needed to be done first. Or maybe this caning wasn’t just going to merge with our next fuck; it was already part of it. “Do you think you look hot, Raylene?”

“I hope you think so, sir.”

Sir? I don’t think she really meant to drop me in rank. But though I’d never asked her to address me as master – she’d started that, spontaneously – I missed the title. I minded.

I delivered the next stroke fast, and hard. The cane bit loud and merciless into the crease of her bottom and thighs. Raylene’s head shot up, blue hair flying, and she howled, wordlessly, the pain rising through her body and expelled from the back of her throat. Her upper body rose from the table while she shook her arse. But she kept her grip on the table-legs. The howling became sobs, and she bawled like a baby for a few seconds. Then she quieted and fell back to the table. 

raylene cuntcaned“Yes. I do think you look hot.” I put the cane between her thighs and pressed the bamboo upwards, into that viscous groove between her lips.

Raylene’s tone changed as she rode the cane, keeping her cunt around wet bamboo. Her cries slowed and quietened, becoming the heavy panting of a long-distance runner.

I looked at Lynette, who was also red-faced and breathing heavily, her mouth open. “Do you think her eyes are pretty when she’s crying?”  

Lynette shook her head. “Oh, yes. I – She looks very pretty.”

“But that wasn’t eye contact, was it?”

raylene over tableLynette hesitated, again. But she’d done solidarity for Raylene already, and the lying had cost her. Also, though she had no reason to be, I felt she was a little frightened of me at that moment. Or of her own reactions to Raylene’s caning.

I guessed she was enjoying her fear, at the same time as knowing she was safe. I had no right to do anything dom-ly to her, or any intention of doing so, without her consent, and she must known that as well as I did. Still, I was a man with a cane in his hand, and I’d been providing scary, sexy fun, like a roller-coaster ride.

Anyway, she looped the loop. “No. That wasn’t eye contact. She wasn’t looking at me at all.”