Raylene looked at me. Her t-shirt hadn’t been much protection or cover, but it had been something. It had meant she wasn’t quite naked. Losing it made her feel more vulnerable. She turned to face Lynette, and coughed again. Then there were tears welling in her eyes.
There was no way she could, or should, be especially sorry about mildly winding up Lynette last night. The punishment I was giving her was so obviously disproportionate that she had to know that her caning had nothing to do with any fault on her part.
But a tear spilled, and began its tracking down her left cheek.
She was in the scene and setting, and she was a sorry girl saying her apologies and hoping to be forgiven. So long as the forgiveness wasn’t the boring kind that would mean that her caning was over. She said, “Lyneck”.
She coughed yet again and said, less hoarsely, “Lynette, I’m so sorry I was rude to you at dinner last night. I was a silly – ” she glanced at me – “rude little girl. And I’m learning my lesson now. I hope you forgive me. Please.”
Two more tears spilled. One on each cheek. It had to be a hard appeal to resist.
But Lynette looked at me. It seemed she was going to wait to take my cue.
I softened my voice. “That was good, Raylene. You’re a good girl. Now turn round. Show Lynette your marks. And remember you’ve got another dozen and a half to come. And a penalty stroke. Whether she forgives you or not.”
Raylene said, “yes, master.” She’d found her voice again. She turned her back to present her arse to Lynette, who looked, fascinated but no longer horrified, at the red-splotched and striped state of that arse. Then, without me having to tell her, Raylene put her hands on her head.
I said, again, “Good girl.” She nodded but didn’t speak.
Lynette looked at me, questioningly. I smiled at her, and she smiled back. We had a moment of complicity, deciding Raylene’s short-term fate. She formed the word, “forgive?” silently.
I shook my head. Lynette smiled, nodded and said, “Raylene?”
Raylene didn’t answer or turn to look back at Lynette. She stood still, naked, her ass striped and glowing, her hands on her head. She was showing me that she only did what I said. Lynette said, “Raylene. You’re getting punished. Rightly. And I hope you’re learning from it.” Raylene’s shoulders dropped. She’d hoped for the comfort of female sympathy.
Lynette took a deep breath. It was hard work, being cruel. “But if you want my forgiveness, you’ll have to ask me again. Later. After you’ve had your caning.”
Lynette frowned then, looked at me and silently mouthed, “ok?”
I was grinning like a wolf prepared to share a lamb. I nodded. I hadn’t expected Lynette to know so well what Raylene would like to hear. I wanted Lynette closer to me, I realised. Where she sat I couldn’t kiss her, and I wanted very much to do that.
“Would you like to touch those marks? Across that stupid little girl’s ass? She earned them for you; you can run your hand over them now. If you like.”
There was a moment’s silence. Raylene’s shoulders rose. She’d liked that idea. But Lynette sat for a moment, thinking.
She pursed her lips.