Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 139: The subtle threesome

Note: 

The last episode of this story was posted back in February, here. It’s very forgivable if you’ve forgotten, or never knew, that there is such a story. 

“Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive” is the click-baity but entirely accurate title of the story of something that happened relatively early in my bdsm career. I’d been interviewing Raylene in her kitchen about her time with a neo-Nazi gang, which she’d joined to annoy her mother, at a bad time in her life. But then we discovered that she was submissive and I was a dom, and that we fancied each other. Things happened very quickly from there, though I’ve been telling it excruciatingly slowly.

When we left Raylene, she was being caned in front of witnesses. The witnesses were Dorabella, her half sister, and Lynette, who’d been trying to get Dorabella into bed.

By now, Lynette had switched her sexual ambition to Raylene and, to my surprise, me. But although we hadn’t liked each other much when we met yesterday, we’d exchanged breath, our tongues had touched the other’s teeth, and we’d fondled each other’s genitals: through my clothes in her case, but fingertips to soft wet skin in my case.

The attraction was real, and starting to feel urgent. So we’d interrupted Raylene’s caning to take a kissing break. To Raylene’s disbelief.

Now read on. 

The subtle threesome

Raylene said, again, “Master?” 

I could see her point. Generally, if you’re getting caned in front of witnesses, you should expect to be the centre of attention. But I’d shown Lynette that being humiliated was one of Raylene’s most favourite, hottest things. She’d caught on quickly, and she’d found that humbling Raylene made her feel wicked. She was starting to enjoy feeling wicked. All this added a pleasantly perverse edge to our kisses. 

I slid my hands down to hold Lynette’s bare ass under her skirt, Lynette made a little “ah” sound, and straightened her back. She had a sensitive little arse: that was worth remembering. She explored my back under my shirt. Doing anything except pulling each other down to the floor and fucking then and there would clearly be ridiculous. But I said, “I said yes, Raylene. What do you want?” 

“Master, I’m sorry, I lost count. How many strokes do I have to go? Master?” 

I sighed ostentatiously, and said, still facing Lynette, “you’ve got the last six of your dozen to go. And there’s one penalty stroke. So far. So seven. Girl.” 

There was a pause, from Raylene. “Thank you, Master.” Her voice was small. 

Lynette smiled at me. She’d enjoyed our intimacy for its own sake and for its effect on Raylene. We hadn’t been to bed together yet – Lynette was to join Raylene and me at midnight that night – but we were already playing a pleasantly complex three-way sexual game. A subtle threesome.

Lynette pulled my shirt back down and picked up the cane, holding it the middle as Raylene had done, and passed it to me. She mouthed, “Duty calls.” Silently. She was still amused.  

I turned and shook my head at Dorabella, who was at the other side of Rayleme’s desk, holding Raylene’s shoulders down. She’d been watching Lynette and me while we pressed bodies and mouths. Since Dorabella was the only person in the room who didn’t want to fuck Lynette, she was no doubt relieved that Lynette’s interest had switched. Anyway, Dorabella read my look correctly and nodded.

Raylene was to have no warning. I swung the cane, catching Raylene hard across the other stripes I’d already laid on the lower curves of her bottom. 

The crack of cane meeting softly muscled flesh was followed by Raylene’s rising wail. Her legs kicked up, level with her body, and she fought Dorabella desperately to get up. She lost that struggle within a few seconds, and her toes touched the floor again. “Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oooohhh…”

I knew I’d have to make the next stroke harder, to get the same reaction. So I made it harder. When Raylene settled her body again, she was still making that soft, almost mumbling cry. It was her pain song.

I gave her the remaining strokes at the same intensity, but she no longer reacted so dramatically. She was getting tired, and she was learning to take a hard caning. There was a kind of acceptance, which was deeper than the mainly verbal submission she’d given me to this moment. I wondered if she’d convinced herself that she deserved to be punished this severely, though she certainly didn’t. 

When the last, penalty, stroke was delivered, I said, “that’s it for now, darling. You’ve been very good, and very brave for me. I’m proud of you, little Raylene.”

She was still producing tears, and singing her “oh fuck oh fuck” song, but she paused for long enough to say, “Thank you, master. And I’m sorry.”  

“Good girl. My girl.” I raised my voice, into public speaking mode. “Raylene is going to thank you for witnessing her punishment. And she’s going to apologise to both of you for her rudeness last night. But she’ll make her formaI apology at dinner tonight. Right now, though, I think I’ve got a girl who needs looking after. Ah?”

It was Dorabella, again, who caught on fastest. She leaned down and kissed her sister’s forehead, then her cheek, and then walked to the door, bustling Lynette out with her. She said, “ok, we’ll leave you two alone for a while. And look in later and see if there’s anything you…”

Lynette said, “Need. Like cold cream?” She wanted to get back into the room. And maybe to get to apply it to Raylene’s glowing ass and thighs. 

Raylene stopped singing “oh fuck oh fuck” and said, “I’ve got some. In a drawer. We’re fine.” She looked at me. I nodded.

“We’ll see you guys later.” I shut the door. I considered jamming a chair against the handle, in case Lynette thought of another way to get inside. The thought made me smile. I knew Raylene wanted to fuck Lynette as much as I did, and if Lynette was getting keen, and devious, that was no bad omen.

I took the cold cream from her top drawer, where it nestled against knickers and a small collection of vibes, I helped her rise, though she moaned when she straightened up. “That hurt, master. Oh fuck, that hurt so much.”

It wasn’t an accusation. And we kissed. I grinned at her. She looked puzzled, but she couldn’t see how bedraggled and woeful, and how triumphantly sexy, she looked. Oh well: I had plenty of time to tell her.

“Girl. Lovely brave girl. Mine.”

“Yes, master.”

“Bed.”

Wicked Wednesday: Maddie trembles

Note: 

This was intended to follow the prompt, Recollection. Unfortunately, the story grew before the recollection part came up. So I’ll have to use this week’s prompt next week. Or, knowing me, it might be the week after. I’m slow. Sorry!

Jennifer’s pleats and pleas: Maddie trembles

Maddie returned, sinuous on all fours, with her panties in her teeth. She stopped at my feet, so the cane was beside her again. She straightened her back, remaining on her knees, and said, “‘Ay ‘anties, sir.”

I took them from her mouth, without speaking. Or smiling. She wanted the tension broken, and at the same time she’d have been horrified if it were. So I said, “You pick up that cane, and hold it out in front of you. Palms up. You’re not to grip it.”

“Yes, sir.” She took the cane and held it as I’d instructed, offering it, and of course herself, for me.

She knew I’d come back from my encounter with Jennifer highly aroused, and that I was going to take her far, as well as hard. We were going to be dramatic. 

I crossed over to the neatly stacked shelves. “Tidy means ‘clean’, girl. Do you think these shelves are clean?”

“Sir, please, I did my best.” It wasn’t like Maddie to beg. But she knew she’d lost any chance of influencing what was going to happen to her, and she was a little unnerved.

I rubbed her panties, white and lacey, on the upper surface of the top shelf. She watched me, like a trapped bird watching a cat. I said, without looking at the panties, “Because if that shelf is not absolutely clean, I should take that as an insult, shouldn’t I?”

She froze, stricken. There was no safe answer to that. Eventually she said, “I’d never want to insult you, sir.”

I held her panties in front of her eyes. There was, fortunately, a reasonable collection of dust there. “Don’t even try, girl, to say you think that’s acceptable.”

“No sir. Oh, sir, I’m so sorry!” Somewhere, she knew this was theatre, designed to ramp up her reactions, and to express my needs. But that part of her that knew that was no longer in control.For now she knew only that the man she’d surrendered to was going to punish her, and that events were happening too fast for her to even think about how to influence what happened. Her palms, holding out the cane, were trembling. 

I said, “Stand up.” This was hard, with her hands still stretched out in front of her, but she managed.

I took the cane from her at last, and said, “Now turn around. Bend over and touch your toes.”

“Yes, sir. Do I count the strokes aloud?”

“Count and thank.”

I caned her hard, poor girl, letting the stripes form from the crown of her bottom to about three inches down her thighs. And I took my time, letting her feel each one, while I watched her tremble and fight for control.

She stayed down throughout, keeping her fingers in contact with her toes. When the count got to “13, thank you, sir”, I paused.

The was a tremor in Maddie’s voice, and I liked hearing it. I’d intended to give her more strokes, but her well striped ass and trembling thighs called me, urgently.

I put the cane in her mouth, unzipped, letting my pants fall to the floor, and took condom and lube from my coat pocket.

 

 

Sinful Sunday: Without a word

“Arr-ffaa!”

As the first pain reached into her body she sobbed, not with the hurt but with relief. Her long, longing wait was over. 

He said nothing. He hadn’t spoken yet. But there had been two canes resting beside her right flank. Now there was only one.

Click on the lips for more Sinful Sunday goodness!

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 138: Kissing Lynette

Beside me, Lynette sighed pleasurably. Languorously, with shining eyes. She was taking a video of the whole thing on my phone camera. She was enjoying watching Raylene’s anguished movements, her toe-clenched kicking and the writhing of her ass and thighs.

I wasn’t sure if she liked the fact that Raylene’s arse hurt, not the way I liked that knowledge.

But at the very least that consideration didn’t interfere with her pleasure. She was also enjoying her flirtation with me. Actually we’d passed flirtation. She’d kissed me with tongue and enthusiasm. Back in the corridor, she’d put her hand on my cock.

That was the other puzzle in this room. Lynette had only come to this house because she’d been trying to get Dorabella into bed. Her first reaction to my presense, doing perverted things to Raylene on the stairs, had been openly hostile. I expected she had a fine line in “all men are bastards” conversation. I also suspected that she’d leaned on it while she was chasing Dorabella. And yet she was coming to bed with Raylene and me at mid-night. I was sure she’d demand penile, as it were, penetration.

I shrugged, mentally, and tapped the cane across the roundest, fullest, curves of Raylene’s bottom. The next two strokes would be the last of her two dozen. I was letting her know where to expect them. Raylene expelled a breath. “Master? God, it hurts… I’m so sorry, Lynette, I wish I hadn’t been rude to you.”

Lynette looked at me. A little earlier I’d encouraged her to be hard and unforgiving when Raylene asked for forgiveness. I smiled and nodded, giving permission. Lynette made her voice icy. “I know you’re sorry now, Raylene. But that’s only because you’re getting punished.”

Raylene made a shocked, nasal noise. Her arse rose and fell still, driven by burning pain. And lust.

Lynette frowned, a little unhappy with herself. Being cruel was fun, but as she’d found earlier, it was hard. She looked at me again. I made the OK symbol with my cane-free hand. “And it serves you right, Raylene. You were being a real bitch last night. Tell me again how sorry you are when he’s finished with you.”

Raylene wailed. I kissed Lynette again, for the sweet sake of it, and to let her know that she wasn’t a horrible person. She’d said the right thing, for Raylene’s pleasure and entertainment. Raylene said, “Master? Please, Master?”

She knew she was interrupting Lynette and me, and she was hesitant. In any case, she was about to ask a question, and I suspected she was scared of the possible answer.

I put my hands on Lynette’s ass, and she reciprocated. We kissed like people about to fuck. “Yes? Raylene?”

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 137: Strokes get in her thighs

So there we were, at a dramatic moment. Raylene naked and bent over the table, bottom and upper thighs already well striped. There should be 19 welts, but they’d merged and crossed each other and I couldn’t count the marks any more in a general splash of corrugated red.

I’d tapped Raylene’s thighs, so she knew where the next strokes were going to go. I raised the cane, and whipped it down, twice, across the backs of her legs. I left little pause between them.

Stung, Raylene yowled and twisted, kicking her legs in the air, since it was the only movement she could make. I watched her with awe and desire, and listened to her pain song.  

Dorabella, Raylene’s half sister, held Raylene’s shoulders down. She did it with real determination, leaving her robe flapping open.

I’d told her that if Raylene got up she’d get extra strokes, and that I’d give the same number to Dorabella. She hadn’t definitely conceded that I had the right to cane her, which wasn’t surprising since clearly I didn’t.

However, Dorabella was afraid that if I told her to take her place beside Raylene, presenting her arse for the cane, she’d do as she was told. By now, I was also pretty sure she wouldn’t disobey. 

In the meantime, she was making sure the issue, and her choice, didn’t arise. She was taller than Raylene, and though they were both strong girls she’d made sure her extra height gave her the advantage.

Raylene was going to take her caning, and she wasn’t going to get out of position.

There were puzzles there: Dorabella seemed to be enjoying herself too much. It didn’t seem to be sororal spite, where one sister will sometimes enjoy mild misfortune happening to the other. It was more that there was some sort of unacknowledged sexual vibe between the two of them. This was turning Dorabella on. I didn’t understand quite what was going on, but there was no doubt that Dorabella was aroused. 

I gave Raylene two more strokes, quite firmly, and fast. This time I aimed high, getting them as close as possible to that wonderful fleshy crease where the thighs and buttocks meet. Raylene screamed, head shaking and hair flying. feet lifting from the carpet, and kicking in the air, until they were the highest part of of her body. Dorabella fought Raylene down again until she subsided.

Dorabella wasn’t looking at Raylene. She looked me in the eyes.

Wicked Wednesday: The return of Jennifer!

I should have had more faith in Maddie. The message that Jennifer Perch was to report back to the headmaster’s office, immediately after her last class, went over the PA system just before the lunch break.

That gave her fellow pupils an hour to tease her about how she must really be in trouble this time. And the rest of the school day trying to concentrate on her work while she worried about what was in store for her, when she entered my office for the second time.

So she was pale, and her voice trembled when she stood in front of my desk. She was acutely self-conscious. She’d give anything not to be here. But she said, “You wanted to see me, sir.”

I looked at her, unsmiling, saying nothing, until her bare knees shook. She was fighting back tears, certain she was about to be spanked again. Or worse.

Finally I said, “Your uniform.”

“Yes sir?”

“Jennifer, you’re out of uniform. In school hours. That’s a serious offence. The school regulations clearly state that the uniform will be appropriately fitted. Yours is at least two sizes too small.”

Jennifer blushed furiously. “I know, sir. But my mother bought it without me. And when I put it on, and found it was too small, the shop wouldn’t take it back. My mother had already ironed it. There’s a … well, you can see where she she’d set the iron too hot, when she started. But … but she said she’d talked to you, and that you’d said it would be ok.”

She sounded almost frantic now. She’d realized that she couldn’t be sure that her mother had told her the truth. She watched me like a rabbit watches an approaching dog.

I still hadn’t smiled. “Yes, she did. And I did agree. But that, Jennifer, was before I understood that you were taking advantage of your uniform to make an indecent display of yourself. Yes?”

Jennifer thought. I meant before school this morning, how she’d displayed herself for the boysl. The tears spilled at last, and she hung her head. “Yes, sir.”

“Look at me, Jennifer.” She did, and I finally smiled at her. She took a deep breath and gulped, and some of the tension left her face and body. “And we dealt with that this morning. Thoroughly, I think?” I looked at her. After a second or two she smiled.

“Yes, sir.” Her bottom would have recovered by now, and the memory of her spanking was not entirely unpleasant. More embarrassing than painful, and some of her feelings had had nothing to do with embarrassment. Her thighs had trembled, slightly parted, while she’d hovered on the brink of orgasm.

And the thought of her experience made her smile. We shared a moment of complicity.

“Well, Jennifer, I haven’t called you back to re-visit that incident. I’m more interested in making sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Sir?”

“Jennifer, you know that this morning you were playing up to the expectations that had been created for you by that uniform. You were being teased, and boys couldn’t take their eyes off you. Your immodest display was your way of dealing with that. Or trying to take control of it. Yes?”

“I suppose, sir.”

“I don’t think it’s naturally you. And the way you tried to deal with it didn’t turn out so well, did it?”

The flush was back. That bare-bottomed spanking over my knee. It was never far away. “I – I suppose it didn’t, sir.”

“I don’t just mean your spanking, girl. That put a stop to it. Or it better have.” She nodded fervently. “If that happens again, I’ll cane you, Jennifer. Twelve of the best. Understand?”

She put her right foot over her left foot so she stood cross-legged before me. “I do, sir.”

“You possibly heard that I had to paddle two girls from your class yesterday. Yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You know what they were wearing when I’d finished with them?”

“No. They haven’t talked about it. Not to me, anyway.”

“Well. I can see that they wouldn’t want it known.”

I was giving her a powerful gift, of course. In her class, and in her circle, gossip is power. “The pair of them were wearing red paddle marks across their bottoms. Nothing else. Nothing at all.”

“Oh.” Jennifer was wide-eyed.

She swore that she wouldn’t need to be caned. But we both knew that was nonsense

“I am authorised to specify what pupils will wear while they’re being punished, Jennifer. Now, if I have to give you those twelve strokes, Jennifer -“

“You won’t! Sir, I promise you won’t!”

“Well, we’ll see. But you see how what those two silly girls were wearing will apply to you?”

Her mouth dropped open.

“You won’t be worrying about uniforms, if you earn yourself a dose of the cane, Jennifer. Twelve strokes. Naked.”  

“Oh sir!” Oddly, I had no idea what she meant by that.

Sinful Sunday: Shake it all about

God! It’s huge!

Uncomfortable?

Master! You should bloody try it and see.

Actually, I don’t think I will, girl. Who’s Master?

The man who just shoved a plug up my bum? 

The same. Ah, would you like me to take it out?

Er, no. It’s kind of ok. I think I could get used to it. Thank you. No.

Click on the lips for more Sinful Sunday goodness!

Sinful Sunday: Consolation

Arethusa said, Oh, Master. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Master. I – 

No, it’s over, darling. And you were brave and good. And your – the fault’s forgotten. You’ve paid for it, the slate’s clean and you’re a good girl again. I’ll never mention it again. 

[I was telling the truth. I’ve genuinely forgotten what the fault was that led to the stripes in this picture. It would be something that I felt harmed her interests, and that I’d warned her about. And that she’d repeated anyway. It’d be laziness or carelessness, because she doesn’t wilfully disobey.]

But I hate disappointing you. I feel … [She shook her head, still on all fours on our bed.]

Shhhh, love. You’re a good girl. Wonderful fucking girl. You’re a good girl with a sore arse, right now. But I do know how wonderful you are. I know that I love you, little one. 

[Arethusa isn’t a brat. She likes to be good. The worst thing about being punished, for her, isn’t the pain, which happens often enough for purely sexual reasons, but having to feel bad because she’d disappointed her master and lover.]

I know that too. And I love you, Master. But I let you down. 

Here. Relax, ‘thuse. You’re the world to me. And …

Ahh… Yeah, yes…

[And that’s when I took this photo, left-handed. Just before I put my right thumb where any person of sense, in love with the woman on that bed and wanting her to feel good, would put their thumb. And hold her firmly and begin to stroke, and then pump. There was no more conversation for some time, and no more talk about feeling guilty. Eventually, cuddled in spoon position on the bed, we slept the rest of the afternoon away.]

Click on the lips for more Sinful Sunday goodness!

Wicked Wednesday 240: Jennifer’s pleats and pleas 13: A fresh slate?

Maddie had asked me if she could suck my cock. It was true that she enjoyed giving head, and under some circumstances she could come from it. More or less. Actually she could come if she could find something she could press her pussy against, like her ankle, in some positions, or my leg. Still, she certainly enjoyed it, and was rightly proud of being good at it. 

A good girl: Maddie at 4.30, Version 1

But this time she’d probably offered because she was worried I was annoyed with her for being free with her advice, and for the shambolic condition of the photocopy room. And I had the cane in my hand.

So she  hoped that her lips around my cock would distract me from giving her more of that cane.

But I’d fucked her only a few minutes earlier. Probably I would get hard once she took me in her mouth, and even come, because she really was skilled and enthusiastic. But the urge was no longer urgent. And I knew it’d be an urgent need later today. 

So I stepped back and zipped up, while she watched warily. “No.” 

“As you wish, sir.” Maddie sounded dismayed. She watched, with alarm, the hand that held the cane. 

Erwin Schrödinger: famous for thought-experiments involving pussies

“Get Jennifer into my office after school, giving me a good reason to have called her. And have this room tidy and spotless. If you do both of those things, to my satisfaction, then you can suck me off.” 

She nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

“Stand up.”

Maddie stood, her skirt still around her hips. I smacked her pussy, hard, with my hand. She grunted with the impact of my palm on her most sensitive skin.

Her eyes seemed to glaze. I liked the feel of her pussy against my hand while I hurt her, so I smacked her again. And again, while Maddie kept herself open, and still. Then I smacked her left inner thigh, hard, and she spread her legs wider for me. I put the cane against her labia. “Step forward.”

“Sir.” Maddie obeyed, so that the cane, where it had been touching her, disappeared between her lips. There was both excitement and fear in her eyes. She wanted to ride it, press the bamboo deeper into her and slide wetly back and forth on it, but she didn’t dare.

I nodded at her. I’m not sure if she saw me. All her attention was focused on her pussy, and the effort to keep still. I said, “Fail at either task, and what do you think happens instead?”

A bad girl: Maddie at 4.30PM, version 2

She shook her head, trying to concentrate. “I’d have to undress and bend over your desk. And you’d cane me. Sir.” You could hear it in her voice: I was a monster.

“We’ll discuss your recent behaviour, yes. For a very long, painful time, Maddie.”

She nodded. She knew that was true.

“And when we’re dome you’ll find driving home very uncomfortable. And you’ll be standing up or lying on your tummy for the next few days. That’s a guarantee.”

Maddie looked at my shoes. “Sir.”

I took the cane away from her pussy, and smacked the top of her right thigh. Then I held it so she could hold the middle. “This has got you all over it. Clean it, and put it away.”

“Yes sir.”

“I hope I do have to cane you, Maddie. It wipes the slate clean. It’s always a new start for you, whenever you’ve been punished.”

“That’s true, sir. I hope Jennifer comes to learn that.”

 I stepped back. “Right. We’re done for now. You may leave.”

“Thank you, sir.” She stood and tucked her top back into her skirt. She retrieved her panties from beside the photocopier and lifted her foot to put them on.

“No. Put them in your drawer. However today ends, you won’t be needing those.”

Maddie blushed. That meant she expected to pass both tests. If she’d expected to get the cane instead of the cock, she’d have paled.

I knew she was happy as things were, so I resisted the urge to smack her bare bottom fondly, or to say something approving or reassuring to her. I turned without a word and walked through the door into my office.

 

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 136: Ambiguity and the cane

Lynette had watched Lynette’s struggles, now with extra red stripes across the tops of her thighs, and Dorabella’s breasts while she fought to keep Raylene in place across her desk.

She stepped closer to me so we watched together, breathing in unison. Lynette whispered to me, “Fuck, that’s hot.”

“Yeah. They’re hot.”

“But you’re not doing that to me. You’re not going to cane me.” 

I kissed her. She put her hands on the back of my head and kissed back. She meant it, as did I. So we were engrossed for a time.

Lynette did nothing to keep her body away from my erection, even when I slipped my free hand under her skirt, to cup and then squeeze her ass. Eventually I took a breath and smiled. “Well, that’s up to you.” 

William “Neckbeard” Empson, of Seven Types of Ambiguity fame. I’d used Type 3: the same word or phrase expressing two conflicting ideas

“Ah. That’s one of the types of ambiguity.” She was right.

At surface level it meant I wouldn’t cane her unless she asked me too. But I’d also meant that I wouldn’t cane her if she behaved herself, but I might if she didn’t: and how she behaved was up to her. 

“Can’t have play if you don’t have ambiguity,” I said, which can’t possibly be true, so I distracted her, reaching my fingers under her ass to stroke damp, soft, perineal skin. Lynette closed her eyes, still kissing me.

So there was no more discussion, even though the topic was interesting and all. 

Dorabella made an unconvincing cough noise. She hadn’t let Raylene get her body off the desk, so she’d been good. And Raylene was back under her own control, her body still and expectant, her feet well parted and her bottom posed and poised for the cane.

So I gave Lynette the look that means duty calls, and she nodded. But my fingertips reached, and pressed against, the outer folds of her cunt, and she made a sweet, soft sound. But I withdrew my hand after a few seconds, shaking my head. “We’ll want you here one minute past twelve, Lynette. Don’t you be a second late.”

“Is that a threat?” But she was bright-eyed, amused by me again.

“Well, it could be. But mainly it was desire. Um, extreme desire.” 

“Ok.” We looked each other in the eyes. We were both going to fuck Raylene after midnight, and then each other. And so the night would pass. But right now… 

I picked up the cane, looked into Dorabella’s eyes for a few seconds, and said, “That was well done.” She glanced for a second at the cane in my hand, but said nothing. Silence is another type of ambiguity.

I tapped the bamboo across Raylene’s upper thighs. She’d already taken a few strokes on that most sensitive flesh, but now I was going to mark them properly.

She said, “Oh fuck…” She knew what those taps meant.  

Those stripes would still be burning when I fucked her, whether I put her on her back or took her from behind. And I was certain that Raylene wanted that pain as much as I did. 

I said, “Ready?” She laughed. I raised the cane.