Wicked Wednesday: Janie’s drop #5

The previous episode is here.

Monica had said that Janie was better, when she was afraid. There was a pause. Then Janie said, “Yes, Mistress.”

“So. Here’s why you shouldn’t come, little Janie, unless I tell you to. Have you ever spent a night hanging from the ceiling by your ankle cuffs, getting a whipping every hour, on the hour?”

Janie thought about what that might be like. She had no doubt that Monica would do it. “No, Mistress, never.” Her voice was awed.

“I’m half tempted to give you the experience, then. You’d never disobey me or your Master again. Would you?”

Janie shook her head, eyes wide. “No, Mistress!”

“But if you come, Janie, that is what will happen to you. So control yourself, little slut.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Monica fucked her for perhaps an hour, sometimes excruciatingly slow, while the little vibrator worked inside her, sometimes fast, pounding Janie’s bottom with her belly and thighs, the artificial cock bigger and longer than Paul’s. Janie had to fight the urge to release, sometimes gritting her teeth and crying with the fight to keep her orgasm at bay. 

At last she begged, nearly exhausted, “Please. Please, Mistress.” 

Monica withdrew. She rolled from the bed onto the floor. “You do not beg! Stay in place, Janie. Bottom arched up, just a little more.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Janie did her best to comply. The first stroke of the riding crop landed across her thighs, about two inches below the crease of her buttocks. It felt like pleasure, like the missing, vibrating cylinder. Janie huffed air through her nose. The next stroke landed an inch higher. Janie fought for control while Monica whipped her. She never been in danger of coming from the ministrations of the riding crop before.

Janie lost count of the strokes. Monica was panting lightly when she’d finished with her. Her body burned while Mistress warned her again about what would happen if she came, and allowed her, at last, into bed. Monica’s bed. It was after midnight, and Janie was exhausted.  

Before she slept she reflected that there was nothing terrible about how Monica tasted, or anything bad about the feel of her wet pussy in her face. It was ok. But it hadn’t done anything for her, sexually. So why was she so wet? Why did she need, so hard and so desperately, to come?

Wicked Wednesday: Janie’s Drop 4

The previous episode is here.

3

Janie spent Friday night, after her punishment, being taught to pleasure a woman. Monica kept the terrible leather paddle in her hand while Janie served her, and Janie felt it often.

There were so many things in cunnilingus that she could do wrong, she discovered. She had to discover, focus on and follow the rhythms of Monica’s desire, serving her, pleasuring her, responsive to her every change in timing or intensity.

When she was mistaken Monica used the paddle on her bottom, harshly and frequently.

She never showed Monica any lack of enthusiasm. That terrible session when she bent over the trestle while Monica paddled her: that was enough to make her forget any scruple, any distaste, any lack of pleasure in applying her tongue, her lips and nose to Monica’s cunt. Paul had sometimes punished her more painfully, but never so coldly. She was terrified of being so ruthlessly and painfully thrashed again.

In the meantime Monica lounged under her, sometimes holding Janie’s hair and pushing her head down, sometimes squeezing her face between her strong thighs. Sometimes Monica gasped with pleasure, and there was a respite from that agonising paddle.

But only for a few seconds, and never with a word of praise. 

Janie served her Mistress’s pleasure, every muscle in her body, and all of her concentration, directed at pleasing her Mistress and avoiding punishment. She would do nothing that incited Monica to punish her.  

At last Monica announced she was satisfied. (She’d come four times, Janie thought rebelliously: she bloody well ought to be satisfied. Then she turned white with terror, just for having that thought. Somehow, she feared that Mistress might know.)

Monica ordered her onto her bed, on her hands and knees, thighs widely spread, bottom arched up. Her Mistress put a blindfold round her eyes. She was aware of rustling sounds and then a click behind her.

And then a presence, cocklike, pressing at her cunt, and pushing forward. Monica was riding her, fucking her, with a strap-on. At first she wondered what could be in it for her Mistress, since she could receive no sensation from a silicon cylinder. 

But then there was a tiny sound, and the cylinder inside her began to buzz, slowly at first and then insistently. The cylinder began to drive into her, and nearly out again, and in. Her Mistress was fucking her, her hips swinging, the device in her cunt driving Janie higher and higher. Janie made a joyous sound: so much pleasure she wanted to sing.

Then there was a flash of pain: a riding crop striking hard on her left flank, then again on her right. 

“No, Janie, you haven’t earned an orgasm. I could feel you getting near, little slut. But you’re to control yourself. You’re here to serve, not to get off, little slavegirl. You may not come, is that clear?”

Her cunt clasped that strap-on. It still pushed her, relentlessly, to pleasure and release. Please, she wanted to say: oh, please, I want it so much. Please let me come. Please. But she said, “Yes, Mistress.”

“You have a lot to learn, Janie. Still, a little fear seems to improve you. At least you’re likely to be trying.”

The next episode is here.

Wicked Wednesday: Janie’s drop #3

The previous episode in this story in here.

Monica said, “Janie, I’m going to a party tomorrow. I’m bringing you.”

Janie blinked. “Uh?” 

“It’s a party you’re dressed for, just as you are.”

Janie nodded. To see how the words felt, she said, “Yes, Mistress.” They felt alien.

Monica didn’t react. “When I told you to to undress, Janie, did you obey immediately?”

Her heart sank. “No, Mistress.”

“Did your Master instruct you that you were to obey me as if I were he?”

She knew this woman was going to punish her. She so hoped this woman, her temporary Mistress, wouldn’t punish her. But it would do no good to beg.

“Yes, Mistress, he did. In the moment I forgot. I’m very sorry, Mistress.”

“Indeed. You knew better. I don’t want you embarrassing me with behaviour like that tomorrow. What would Paul do?”

Janie thought. She’d disobeyed, though only briefly. “Cane me, Mistress. Six strokes.”

“Appropriate. I’ll use the leather paddle. But ten strokes.”

Silence stretched on. Then Janie remembered: “Thank you, Mistress!” She sounded squeaky.

“Just in time, Janie. Bring the trestle to the middle of the room.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Janie hurried.

Then there were words, the beginning of a ritual. She’d never expected to hear a woman speak them to her “Bend over, Janie.”

Janie turned to face the trestle. She placed her feet apart, so they touched the trestle’s back legs, exposing herself to her punisher. There were grips, low on the legs on the other side. She lowered the upper half of her body, and held on tight. 

“I’m not going to call you a good girl for obeying me, Janie. That’s a given from you, the bare minimum.” The paddle cracked across her buttocks, and she cried out. Paul would have said something loving, to help her get through her punishment. And she always knew she’d be given an orgasm afterwards,  

But the paddle landed again. It was so hard and hot, nearly as bad as a hard stroke from Paul’s cane. Janie cried out again, abandoning herself to punishment, holding on tight. “You will learn to obey me, Janie.” 

On the third stroke, which landed low and hard, Janie began to sob. There were tears running from her eyes, down and into her eyebrows. “Without expecting praise or reward.” 

There was a pause. Janie knew Mistress would be watching the colour rise and deepen on her bottom. Enjoying it, like a connoisseur.

Janie wondered if she were a connoisseur of being punished. Paul was warm and loving, even when he hurt her. This was colder, and more impersonal. Still – she hated to admit it – there was something hot in that.

Then the paddle cracked down again, loud, and burning like fire. “If I have to teach you this lesson again, Janie, you’ll get ten with the cane as well.”

Monica stopped lecturing now and calmly, unhurriedly, completed Janie’s paddling. Janie sobbed throughout, lost in pain and humiliation. 

At last it was over, and Mistress commanded her to stand up. Janie struggled up, weeping, her bottom sore and, somehow, heavy. Monica held the paddle to her lips. Janie knew what she had to do. She sniffed, wishing she dared to wipe her eyes. She kissed it.

 

Wicked Wednesday: Janie’s drop Part 2

[I’m taking a break from the Maddie saga, because I’m flat out working. Here’s something I prepared earlier.]

 

Janie’s Drop #2

The previous episode is here

 

Monica was tall, dark-haired and slender, in a tight black dress. She’d kissed Paul at the door, ignoring Janie. They talked quietly. Janie looked around an ordinary room. Ordinary except for the trestle in the corner. She had to admit she knew what that was for.

Paul and Monica were watching her. Monica nodded. “Strip, dear. Completely. Kneel beside your Master.”

Janie looked at Paul, beseeching. He said, “I told you to obey her as you do me. You’re being insolent, Janie.”

Janie removed her shirt, then wriggled out of her skirt. She took off her sandals and knelt, body upright, hands by her knees. She stayed close to Paul. She was afraid of Monique.

Monica looked at her the way Paul did, as if she were the most fascinating thing in the universe. She didn’t think she liked it from Monica. She loved Paul. Anyway, she didn’t like women. Not sexually. Monica smiled at her, but addressed Paul. “She has lovely breasts, and a perfectly adorable little bottom. I’m sure you make her serve you often.”

Serve, thought Janie. She pleased Paul any way he ordered, but they made love. But Paul only said, “Yes. She’ll serve you too, of course.”

Oh god no, please, Janie thought. She could feel the heat in her face.

Monica walked behind her. “Oh! And she’s been punished!”

Janie wanted the floor to swallow her. She wore the trace of Paul’s cane. Twelve strokes, for not calling her mother. Three days ago:  the marks had barely faded.

Paul smiled. “You can discipline her, for your pleasure or as punishment. But tell me if you have to punish her.”

“Naturally.”

“Why’s that, Janie?” The sharpness in his voice helped her guess.

“So you can give me the same when you return. Master.”

 “Good girl. Clever girl.” She liked his praise. Janie relaxed a little.

Paul said, “The airport’s waiting. Janie, kiss my feet.”

Janie dropped to her elbows and knees and lowered her face, touching her lips and tongue to his shoe. Her cunt felt it hard, as always: it was something loving she did for him, and it made her feel utterly and deliciously submissive.

While she moved to his other shoe, Paul said, “I expect her back in good condition. Stripes and bruises, fine, but no damage.”

“Understood.”

Paul shook Monica’s hand. It was a transfer, thought Janie. He looked at her, hand on the door, and she knew that, harsh as he was trying to be, he’d miss her too. Then he was gone.

 

The next episode is here.

Wicked Wednesday: Lucy’s face

The previous episode is here

 

Sir, the cane in his hand, said, “All right Lucy. Now bend over the desk. Good girl.”

I watched Lucy, her eyes fixed on mine as she bent lower, her lovely breasts descending, and then flattening as her body touched the table. Now I could only see her back, and the upper slopes of her bottom.

“Put your hands under your Mistress’s thighs. Good. Hold her, and don’t let go or you’ll get extra. And where does your face go?”

“In Mistress’s pussy? Sir?”

“Clever girl. Bend a little tighter now, so you can reach.” Lucy wriggled forward. I felt her hair against my thighs, and then her nose and mouth.

Then she kissed my cunt. I sighed. The joy of it was so intense I nearly fell backwards.

“Now pleasure your Mistress, Lucy. Have you licked a girl before?” She couldn’t speak, and the head between my thighs turned, side to side, as if she was burrowing in: No, she hadn’t.

Sir caught my eye. He smiled. “Well, Lucy, this may be your first time. But I think you know what to do. Put your tongue out, and keep it busy. The cane will do the rest.”

Sir lined the cane against Lucy’s bottom, across the fleshiest part. I wished there was a mirror, so I could watch it land. But I’d know, of course, every time Lucy jolted. “Maddie, I expect you to keep Lucy behaving, and obedient. If she stops pleasuring you, even for a second, I want you to tell me. Is that understood?”

Lucy was already tonguing me. I had trouble speaking. “Yes. Hrrrm. Yes, Sir, I – Uh! – will.”

“Good girl. Mind you do.” He tapped the cane twice against Lucy’s bottom. “All right. we begin. Be a good, brave girl, Lucy, for me and your Mistress. We’ll make sure you come to no harm, little one.” I felt her nod. Every movement she made felt good.

Sir stepped to Lucy’s left. Poor Lucy sensed that, and she licked me harder. Our good girl.

Sir raised the cane over his shoulder. 

Wicked Wednesday: Maddie’s tale

The previous episode is here

Sir had said I was going to enjoy helping him to give Lucy her first caning. I felt a little guilty about that because Lucy was only going to get the cane because she’d been told to hold me down, and I’d deliberately got up, just to get her into trouble. I planned to start disciplining Lucy myself, soon, but I didn’t want to hurt her just now. So I said, “Sir?”  

“Maddie, I want you to sit on my desk.”

“Yes, Sir.” I rested my bottom on his desk and swung my legs. “No, not perch on my desk. I want you to get right up on top. And right over to the other side of the desk.” 

“Ok, sir.”

And I clambered up, aware of both Lucy and Sir watching me. So I sat in the middle, my knees up, arms over my knees, looking at them. 

“Good girl. Now skootch a little further back. So you’re on the far side of the desk. When my chair is.” 

I skootched. His desk was oak. The wood was so hard and cold, under my bottom and thighs. “Sir?” 

“Good girl. Now spread your knees, wide apart as you can. Good. What do you think, Lucy?”

Lucy stood beside Sir. Her thighs were trembling. She said, “She – Mistress. She looks very hot, Sir.”

Sir put his arms round Lucy and turned hewr to face him. He cuddled her, and whispered, “Don’t be afraid, Lucy. The cane hurts, but you’ve known it was going to be part of your life since this morning, haven’t you?”

“Y-yes, Sir. I have. But I’m still afraid.” She leaned in against him, put her arms round him. I knew how lovely and luscious Lucy felt. I wished it was me, in her arms. 

“Lucy, what you’re afraid of, lovely little one, is mostly the unknown. All the terrors of your imagination. You’ll find this is going to sting, and it’ll mark for you a few days. But it’s not as terrifying as you think. You’ve got Maddie to thank, for you being just about to get your first caning. You know that, don’t you.”

“Sir! I let her get up when you told me to hold her down. I failed, Sir.”

Sir smiled and smacked Lucy’s bottom lightly, then let his hand stay there, squeezing. Lucy wriggled.

“Yes, but she got up, Lucy, darling. She wanted you to get the cane today. She was turned on and she wanted to watch you be punished too. But she also did you a good turn. It’s better to get the cane early, than to fear it and let the fear build up until it becomes something terrible. So I want you to turn now, and thank your Mistress for getting you caned.”

“Sir!?” Lucy sounded shocked. Then she thought, and nodded. She looked at me. Her tongue came out and wet her lips. I felt it in my cunt, when she did that.

Lucy swallowed, then spoke firmly. “Maddie. Mistress, thank you for making sure I got the cane today. It is better if I don’t have to wait. So thank you.”

Sir smacked Lucy’s bottom again. A little harder, leaving a pink print this time. But he said, “That’s good, Lucy. Well done.”

Lucy smiled and cuddled in again, her breasts heavy and so pale, crushed against his jacket. Sir kissed her forehead, then looked at me. “Good girl, Maddie. Now lean back. Put your hands on the edge of the desk, behind you. And push your pussy forward a little. No, more. That’s good. Don’t move out of that position until I say.”

He stepped back from Lucy, then picked up the cane again. She was being brave, but now her caning was about to happen I could see tears glistening in her eyes. He whispered something to her. I couldn’t catch it but it was loving, encouraging.

He held the cane under her chin, to lift her head. Then he touched it to her mouth, and she kissed it. Slowly, almost reverently.

Janie’s drop, part 1

She’d kind of hoped he’d take her with him

“Why do you have to go, anyway? Can’t I come with you, Master?”

Janie knew she only sounded querulous. No one likes a whiny sub, she’d been told. She knew, too, that Paul had little choice about this trip. It was work. But Paul had never punished her for needing him.

Paul smiled. “You won’t be missing me much, Janie. You won’t have time.”

Huh? “Master?”

“You’re meeting my friend Monica. She’s in charge of you this weekend. You’ll address her as Mistress, and you’ll obey her just like you obey me. Until I collect you on Monday. Understood?”

Janie felt near-terror. She’d never obeyed, or served, anyone but him. “Yes, Master?”

This was her calm space, and they were both leaving it

Yes, Jane.”

“How can I- ?” She wanted to say, “serve anyone but you?”, but she knew this was already decided. And although this frightened her, she didn’t want to displease Paul. “How do I get to her place? Do you have her address?”

“I will deliver you, little love, and I’ll come to collect you when I’m back. And we’re leaving right now.”

Panic! She felt the sudden jolt, the lift in her heart rate. “Master! Please! I, I have to pack!”

“You’re wearing your collar. You won’t take that off, and you won’t need anything else. Now, girl.”

 

The next episode is here.

Wicked Wednesday: Maddie’s elegant caning

The previous episode is here

 

I don’t mean that last cane stroke didn’t hurt. It burned like fire. I felt like I was being branded. It was just that… that felt right. There was something sweet there. Something deeply sexual, like it was below my human brain. Something atavistic, like an animal. An animal in love and lust. 

The next two strokes climbed up my thighs. “Nine, Sir. Ten, Sir,” counted Lucy.

I squealed and sobbed again, continuously, no longer trying to control it. But now the sobs celebrated what was happening as much as they protested it. The tenth stroke burned just under the crease of my bottom. I dreaded the moment the cane would land directly of my crease. I knew it would be too much for me.

And I yearned for it, for exactly the same reason.

The next two strokes whipped across my bottom, as low as they could go, just above the crease. I moaned. How could this feel good? How could I take the fear of what was coming? I was learning something, something that changed my life, but I didn’t understand it yet. That need for discipline in my life, to give myself and lower myself to a Master. And to the pain he might give me: I needed that too. But I hadn’t processed that, just yet. It was my first inkling.

“Eleven, Sir. Twelve, Sir.” Was there discomfort in Lucy’s voice now? She knew she was next. She was a softer girl than me. 

“Good girl, Maddie. Now, I want you to keep your legs straight. And bend a littlke tighter for these last two strokes”

“Yes, Sir.”I obeyed, quickly.

“Good girl.You look so neat, so very elegant, my darling.”

“Oh, Sir.” I felt so exposed, so completely his. 

“Good girl. You always look perfect for me, my little one.”

I wanted to break and cover him with kisses. I turned my toes inwards, just to expose myself a little more.

I hope he thought my pussy was elegant, too. There was silence, while he looked at me.

At last he said, “Brace yourself, Maddie. I want you to take these two in silence, because they’re not part of the twelve strokes. You know where they’re going, and you know they’ll hurt you. So be a good, brave girl for me. I rely on you, to show Lucy an example, You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes Sir. I’ll be…” I was going to say ‘good’. I said, “quiet.”

“Good girl.” I smiled, despite myself. The next two strokes came hard and fast, only about five seconds between them. That crease is some of my softest skin. I wanted to wail, and jump across the floor holding my arse. But somehow I could stand it, though part of me knew they were the worst strokes of all. Another part of me felt so good, that I was so strong, so controlled and so much his. 

“Thirteen, Sir. Forteen, Sir.” 

“Good girl, Lucy. And Maddie, you’ve been a brave, beautiful good girl. I’m very proud of you. But don’t move, little Maddie.” 

I said, “Ohh, Sir.” It wasn’t a protest. I felt so His. I was His property. And that made me feel so floaty. 

“Lucy, put two fingers in your Mistress’s pussy, girl.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

A moment later I felt her touch me, then enter and explore. This was more intimate touch that we’d ever had. But we both wanted it; Sir had made it happen. I sighed as Lucy probed and stroked inside me, and my whole body shook a little, with the emotion of it.

“Now withdraw, Lucy. Hold your hand up.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

There was a pause. Sir said, “Nicely sopping. Good girl, Maddie.” He sounded so happy with me. “Lucy, clean your fingers now. With your mouth, girl. It’s time you tasted your Mistress.”

“Yes, Sir.”

A second later Sir was holding me by my shoulders. He helped me up. I turned and embraced him. God, I wanted him to fuck me then and there. But he just cuddled me.

He kissed my forehead, and when I dared look at him, my mouth. I was held in his arms, my ass burning, I heard him say, “Good girl. My girl. You deserved that, but you were very brave, and the slate’s wiped clean. You’re my very good girl again.”

There were tears streaming down my cheeks, now I was upright. I didn’t ask for his permission; I kissed him, and I looked at Lucy, warning her to stay back, and I took his cock in my hand. He kissed me back, and we rocked together for a while. 

But at last Sir put his hands on my shoulders and set me back a pace. “Now, I’m going to need your help, Maddie, while I give Lucy her first caning. I think you’re going to enjoy the way you help.”  

 

The next episode is here

Wicked Wednesday: Maddie learns a lesson about pain

The previous episode is here

Even while my pain was building, I could hear Sir’s breathing, with his mouth open, responding to Lucy’s hand on his cock.

“That’s lovely, Lucy,” Sir said. “Keep that up.” Lucy giggled, and there was a slap. Sir’s hand on her bottom.

“The next time we find ourselves doing this, Lucy, you’ll be using your mouth. Would you like to be taught how to please me best, when you’re sucking my cock?”

Lucy said, “Oh god yes, Sir. Sir–” She stopped, uncertain.

“Yes, Lucy?”

“I want you to teach me everything. All the things there are. Please Sir.”

“Ahhh, Lucy.” I didn’t dare look, but I knew he’d drawn her in close, holding her. They were kissing. Another time I might have wondered whether I felt jealous, but the burning pain iacross my bottom still held all of my attention. Lucy gasped: he must have touched her pussy, and then she made a little moan. He was stroking her. 

Then I heard Lucy stumble. He’d broken the cuddle and set her back in place. I imagined her hand, stroking the length of Sir’s cock. I’d sucked Sir off, but I hadn’t done that with my hands. Lucy got to do that first.

“Maddie.” That was all the warning I got. Then the cane landed, hard, across my thighs. Usually I minded that my thighs still held a little puppy-fat, though I did my best to work it off, But in that second I thanked the gods that tiny bit of extra padding was there. I screamed again. I couldn’t help myself.

Lucy said, “Two, Sir.” She must have done something with her hand, because I heard Sir gasp.

“Oh Sir,” I said. “It hurts soooo much.”

“Don’t speak again, Maddie. Now, I’ve marked out the top line and the bottom line of this caning. The rest of your strokes are going in between. It’s going to hurt.”

“Going to? Sir…”

“But I need you to be a good girl, Maddie. You’ve got an example to set for Lucy here. And I know you can do it. Bravely. Obediently. Like the best of good girls.”

I smiled and sniffed. He cared for me. I knew that, but that reached me through all the pain. A second later the third stroke landed, a little lower on my underbum, perhaps half an inch below the first stroke. God, it burned.

I screamed, and my hands left the floor. I wanted so strongly to clutch my arse, and rub it. But I managed to stay down, and I returned the palms of my hands to the floor.

Lucy said, “Three, Sir.”

Sir said, “I’ll pretend I didn’t see that, Maddie.”

I’d thought I was in trouble. I gasped, “Thank you, Sir.”

“But if you were to rub your bottom without permission, or even take your hands off the floor again, you know you’ll get extra. So,” and his voice was icy now, “be more careful, girl.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He wasn’t warning me any more. The next stroke was a little higher on my thighs. I screamed again, as the pain built, and then started to sob. I couldn’t stop. Sir was punishing me, mercilessly. I also felt that he was making me his, when he marked me and hurt me, and some of the sobs were from that. It was emotion more than pain.

“Four, Sir.”

Two more strokes whipped in, hard and fast on my thighs, each line a little higher than the one before. I was in agony, all through my body, and we weren’t even halfway yet!

“Five, Sir. Six, Sir.” Lucy was a little short-breathed. She was turned on, watching her Mistress getting punished. 

Then, with two hard strokes across my bottom, working their way lower, I was past the halfway point.

“Seven, Sir. Eight, Sir.”

Just six strokes to go. But something had changed in me. I didn’t scream for that last stroke.

I felt as if that girl getting the cane, Maddie, was very small and far away. In one way I was in the worst pain I’d ever been in in my life. At another level, I was only aware of how completely I’d given myself to him, and how entirely he’d taken me. I belonged to him, for him to do with as he wanted.

There was a kind of sweetness with the pain, all the way through my body and my mind, that I hadn’t experienced before.And I knew we were going to continue, as my caning would continue, until I found my way entirely into that sweetness.

The next episode is here

Wicked Wednesday: I perform for Lucy

The previous episode is here.

 

So I went to the cupboard in his office. I saw more than I’d expected or even imagined, when I opened it. He had three canes of varying sizes,  including one comically short one that I expected was for use on girls who were over his knee. I imagined what that would be like, and then I felt that vision in my cunt. I hoped he’d do that to me.

There were strips of leather in varying thickness and widths, straps and hawses, and paddles, two leather and one thick wooden one with holes drilled in it. I thought I’d try to avoid the wooden one. Once he knew me, he’d know that was the only implement that would really punish me.

There were leather strips, with buckles, for securing a boy or girl who wouldn’t stay in place for punishment, and there were other things whose use I couldn’t even guess.

But Sir was a man to obey exactly and quickly, so I selected the longest and thickest cane and turned to hold it out to him, offering it out to him with my arms outstretched in front of me, and my palms open.

He looked at me, letting me know I had to do more, so I lowered myself as elegantly as I could, without dropping the cane, to one knee, then the other.

Kneeling naked in front of him, stripes from my caning this morning still warm across my arse, I didn’t think I could feel any more lowered, more submissive to him. I was wrong.

He stepped forward, so his feet were between my spread knees, unzipped quickly and took out his cock. He was hard. I opened my mouth quickly, and he thrust into me, not gently, as far as he could. I choked and fought back the urge to cough. It was easier when I made myself relax, his cock thrusting into me. I kept still, allowing him to fuck me. My drool ran down to my chin while he used me. If he’d touched my cunt with his shoe he’d find the leather gleaming with my juices. I could feel I was about to leak onto the upper slopes of my inner thighs.

Without breaking his stroke, fucking my mouth, he said, “Come here, Lucy.”

“Yes, Sir.” She stepped forward. I was focussed on Sir, but I could see her cunt and thighs. She was standing beside Sir and me.

“Are you good at this, Lucy?” His cock in and out of my mouth, fucking me casually while talking to my girl.

“I don’t know, Sir. I’ve never–“

“Never? You’re a virgin? I mean, your mouth?”

“Yes, Sir. My everything. But I know I’d be good. For you.”

“You would be, little Lucy. I wouldn’t even have to cane you, I don’t think. And Maddie can help teach you. She’s good.”

Still working on his cock I made a little pleased throaty noise, so he knew I’d heard and liked that. I still had the cane in my hands, pressed lightly against his shins. “The cane, Maddie.” I reached up and he took it from me. He pressed his left hand firmly against the back of my head, so his cock was deep in my throat. Then he raised the cane over his shoulder and whipped it down my back, catching my right cheek. “If I want to hear from you, girl, I’ll ask you.”

I would have cried in pain, but his cock gagged me. A few seconds later, his cock still moving in my throat, he whipped the cane down my left buttock. I wanted to moan. But somehow that second stroke felt good. And the third, and then the fourth, one side then the other while he fucked my mouth, deep, unhurried. It balanced the hurt, and I knew it was right that I hurt.

I could see Lucy watching, her mouth open too.

The next episode is here.