Someone had thrown a towel over the top of the door, in Lynette’s room. So the door hadn’t closed when Raylene had followed Lynette. I assumed that Raylene was there to reassure Lynette that she, Raylene, was fine with the idea of getting caned. And that it would even, in some arcane way, be a good and wonderful thing if I caned her that morning.
Therefore, I expected to hear praise of me, if I waited for a second. I like praise. Maybe Raylene would say, “He pretends to be a bastard, but that’s just a game. Getting the cane is what I want, and I trust him to get it just right. So it hurts a bit, but it’s hot. And Jaime’s hot too, fucking amazing, did I mention that?” Something on those lines, maybe.
But I didn’t hear that. I just heard a sigh,a good, satisfied sigh, that had to be Raylene’s. Then a bed creaked. That was unexpected. It was also possible that it might not be good news, for me at least. On the other hand, Raylene knew she had an appointment with me, in her room, in a few minutes. and she’d been pleased with me the last time I saw her. About quarter of an hour ago.
I wasn’t about to burst the door down and carry on like an outraged husband. But nor could I simply stay outside and call Raylene. A girl’s new master can’t really do that kind of thing. It seems a little … conciliatory. So I coughed, then knuckled the door a couple of times, and said, “Hey, Raylene. Ah, Lynette, ‘scuse me.”
There was silence. But it was the kind of silence that meant they’d heard me. I pushed the door open, reasonably slowly, and stepped in.
Raylene and Lynette were on Lynette’s bed. Raylene lay stretched out on her front, with her t-shirt pushed up to her armpits. Lynette sat straddling the backs of Raylene’s thighs, so she could inspect and stroke the damage I’d done to Raylene’s ass. She’d rubbed in some cold cream.
I didn’t mind. Cold cream wasn’t going to make any difference to Raylene’s experience of getting caned. And rubbing Raylene’s bottom was definitely a pleasant thing to do, and you could even feel virtuous while you were doing it. I couldn’t blame Lynette for that. Well, I didn’t, anyway. She wore blue knickers and a little maroon blouse that I think belonged to Raylene and Dorabella’s mother. She looked at me, neither friendly nor hostile.
I said, “Sorry. You’re looking after Raylene. But I’m going to have to borrow her for a bit. She’s -” The two canes were on the bed beside Raylene’s right arm. I waved a hand in their direction.
Lynette glanced over at the canes, then spent a few seconds thinking. Then she scrambled off Raylene – as I’d speculated, she had slender thighs and a very nice ass, the hard-apple kind – and put her feet on the floor. She fumbled one-handed with the only button on the blouse that was still buttoned, and made it a little more secure. “Mmmmm. The, um, the event.”
It occurred to me that Raylene had been working in my interests, in her own way. Lynette was more relaxed about “the event” than she had been. I said, “Yeah. That. You’re very welcome to come up and watch. But you don’t have to if you don’t want. ‘Sup to you.”
Lynette frowned. “I know I haven’t got long, but I’m going to have to think about it.”
“Well, either way.” I watched Raylene roll over onto her side, staring at Lynette and me. “You’re welcome. But it’s not compul- It’s fine, either way you feel like.”
Lynette had noticed my slip, when I’d started to tell her I wasn’t making something compulsory. Before remembering that I couldn’t make anything compulsory for Lynette, and that claiming I could would be fighting talk. It was lop-sided, but I got a smile.
I grinned back at her. Trying to make it conspiratorial, between us. The smile stayed lop-sided. So I turned to Raylene. “Raylene.”
I didn’t look at Lynette to see what she thought of Raylene calling me “sir”. I doubt if her attitude on that had softened. I said, “You’ve got an appointment. And you’re late.”
Raylene nodded. She held her hand up for me to pull her off the bed. Then she said “Yo-ike!” I’d reached past her hand and lifted her up by her hair. She followed her hair, as one does, and stood in front of me, facing me. Raylene looked into my eyes, trying to communicate something. That she’d been a good girl, for all that it looked otherwise.
The t-shirt had drifted down to her waist since she’d stood up, but it hadn’t covered her ass yet.
My hand cracked across already well-reddened skin several times, setting Raylene dancing a little on her feet, waving her hands, trying to keep still.
Lynette watched without comment.