Wicked Wednesday: Will Sir cane us together?

Sir looked at me, dancing about clutching my arse. He looked concerned for a second, Then he smiled, though that was gone before Lucy saw it. He understood. And I was sure he wanted Lucy to undress for him so he could cane her. 

I think both of us hoped he’d cane us together

I don’t understand why I wasn’t jealous of Lucy. But what she had from him wouldn’t take anything from me. They’d both have a wonderful time, and I liked both of them – maybe I loved Sir a little, or a lot – and I wanted them both to be happy.

Somehow I was sure that I’d still be Sir’s Number One. And maybe he’d let me play with Lucy too, while he was punishing her. Or he could cane both of us at once: all of that was up to him.

“Maddie girl, stop making an exhibition of yourself.” He sounded furious, but I wasn’t worried at all. I knew he was happy with me. “Be quiet, girl. Go to the corner, and put your nose to the wall. Kneel down, and stay there. And put your hands on your head!”

I said, “I’m so sorry, Sir!” He’d know I was lying about that, but he’d keep my secret. Then I added, “Yes, Sir,” and dropped to my knees in the corner. God, my bottom was burning.

There was silence. Sir and Lucy would be staring at each other. “All right, Lucy. I asked you to hold Maddie down. How do you think you did?”

She had to sniff and clear her throat before she could answer. “I – Uh. I failed, Sir. I’m sorry.”

Another pause. They’d be looking at each other. “I’m afraid you did, Lucy. What did I promise you, if Maddie got up?”

Or I could stand behind Sir and watch

“The same as her. Twelve strokes, sir?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know, Lucy girl. And what will you be wearing while I cane you?”

Kneeling naked in the corner, I felt their glances on me. I blushed. Lucy cleared her throat again. I imagined the tears running down her sweet face. “Nothing, Sir.”

“That’s right, Lucy. Then you’ll be a good girl again, once you’ve taken your punishment. I’m sure you’ll take your strokes well. You want me to be proud of you. And you want to be proud of yourself, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.” Lucy’s voice sounded stronger. “Should I… get ready now, Sir? Take my clothes off and bend over your desk?”

Sir let the silence stretch. He was enjoying himself, I knew. I wondered if his cock was hard. I wondered if I’d be able to suck him after Lucy left. He was going to fuck me for the first time, when I went back to his office after school, But I suspected he needed me now. “Come here, Lucy.”

There was a sudden happy sound from Lucy. So Sir had held out his arms, and Lucy had rushed into them. There was a light smack. Lucy was still bare-bottomed from her spanking. She squealed, but I recognised that sound, since I’d made it myself. She was happy to be turning him on.

“All right, Lucy.” Another smack, and another happy squeal. “I don’t have time to deliver two canings right now. Off to class, girl. But come back… after school. Four o’clock.”

Lucy almost sang her “Yes, Sir!” She’d reached the door before Sir coughed. “Sir? Oh!” She scrambled back to the desk to pick up her discarded panties and skirt, and hurriedly put them on. 

His cock would be Lucy’s soon, sometimes and in a way. But it would always be mine

I risked a glance as she skipped to the door again. Sir was beside me when the door shut after her, and he reached down to take a handful of my hair. I tried to get up, but he twisted my hair till it hurt.

“No, Maddie. Just turn around, on your knees. We’ve got some things to talk about, but you’re not going to be using your mouth for speaking. Not for a few minutes.”

I pressed my face against the front of his pants, then, hesitantly because he’d hadn’t told me what to do,

I pulled down his zip and reached inside his trousers. His cock jumped when my hand touched it. It was so hard.

Sir breathed, “Good girl.”

I opened my mouth.

 

 

Wicked Wednesday: Get up, stand up!

I kissed Lucy’s inner thighs one last time, bending over with my head between her legs while she held me down. Sir was tapping his cane on my bottom, letting me know the next stroke would be higher, on the fleshiest part of my bum. 

Then the cane was gone, and I braced myself as best I could. Poor Lucy would get the cane herself if she let me get up. She was my sister in trouble, and I was responsible for her.

Then the cane landed, hard and fiery, slashing a new line of pain across my bottom. I cried out while the pain built, and I knew there must be a welt rising there. Did Sir love my marks? I know I would if I were in his position. Perhaps he’d let me cane Lucy, one day, and I could find out.

Sir’s hand touched my bottom, gently, where the stroke had landed. “That’s lovely, Maddie. You’ll have that to look at for the next few days.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Now, stay down, girl. The next one’s going to be harder.”

I said, “Yes, Sir.” I could feel my own drool, running from my pussy, viscous at the tops of my inner thighs. When he touched me, I’d felt such a wave of wanting him. It got stronger when he told me he was going to go harder on me. I couldn’t understand myself.

But the next stroke bit into my ass, absolutely pitiless, a little higher than the last stroke. I kept still for a second and then I screamed. It hurt so much.

I waggled my bottom furiously, to release all that fiery pain while keeping my upper body under Lucy’s hands, and my head between her soft, sweet thighs.

Then the next landed with no warning, a little higher again. It was harder still.

And my mind sort of switched off. I just wanted the next stroke, and I felt sure that if he caned me for much longer I’d come. I felt so hot, but the heat was in my pussy as well as my bottom, and though Lucy would be shocked if I orgasmed, right there under her hands, I didn’t care about that at all. I didn’t care about anything.

I sighed, voluptuously though I didn’t know the word then, and hoped the next stroke would be soon. And hard. Sir noticed, and his voice was the gentlest I’d ever heard it. “Good girl,” he said. “You’re a good girl, Maddie, and you’ll be all right. Just three to go, if you stay down.”   

And then he swung the cane again, to land just below that pulsing, fiery line left by that first stroke.

I knew it was a hard stroke, but the pain seemed far away. I murmured, “ohhh….”

I could smell Lucy. She was so turned on too. I thought about how she’d be under the cane. Would she love it, like me? She’d been so sparkly-eyed after her spanking from Sir. And holding me for my caning was turning her on so much. I kissed her left thigh, and wished I could be kissing her pussy. 

The cane landed again, the hardest stroke so far. I knew what would please him most. I breathed, “Thank you, Sir.” And I arched my bottom to invite the next stroke. 

“Last stroke, Maddie. It’s always the hardest. But you’ve been a good girl so far, so don’t spoil it.” 

And the twelfth stroke landed, so hard and fast and burning. God, I wanted more. I’d had Sir’s cock in my mouth but now I wanted it properly in me. And I wanted him to cane me even longer first. No, I wanted everything at the same time. I felt Lucy’s hands relax after the stroke landed. She thought it was over.  

So I screamed again. I pushed my hands on Sir’s desk, and lifted my shoulders out of her grasp. And then I put my hands on my bottom – god, those welts were raised high – and danced, lifting my knees, joggling and jiggling on the spot.

Lucy looked at me, horrified. She’d failed to hold me down. She was going to get the cane too, now. I looked into her eyes.

What I wanted to say was too complicated, and anyway Sir hadn’t given me permission to speak. So I looked at her and, as if signalling that I’d done her a huge favour, I smiled. 

 

Wicked Wednesday: Very pretty stripes

The cane landed low across my bottom, and I yelped. It surprised me by hurting so much when Sir wielded it seriously. I tried to keep still, but of course I didn’t completely manage, and Lucy had to press hard on my shoulders. She opened her thighs a little, to push my head further down. 

It was the strangest sensation, with my face between Lucy’s lovely, softly plump thighs, and my bum out and arched up so Sir could hurt me. Lucy stroked my shoulder blades lightly with her fingertips, then resumed the downwards pressure. 

Sir said, “Good girl.” But then he swung the cane again. I heard it swish through the wind, a moment before it hit me. We were both silent and solemn, we two girls, so the crack of it landing on me seemed to fill the room. It might have echoed, but it hurt too much for me to notice. It was even lower, just above the crease of my thighs.

It cancelled out everything else in the world, and this time I cried out with the shock and pain of it. I kept myself still, so Lucy didn’t have to push too hard. After all, she’d get the same if she let me get up, so I was responsible for her. I said, “Oh, sirrrr…” 

“Quiet, Maddie. Keep that bottom up. Ten to go. If you’re good.”

The third and fourth strokes came quickly after that, each lower than the one before, so that the fourth caught me right in that sensitive junction just below my underbum. I was still yowling from the third stroke when the fourth landed, so that I screamed at the fourth, and my head ducked lower into Lucy’s softness while my bottom waggled from side to side. 

Lucy moaned slightly, and I could feel just a touch of wetness on my forehead. God! She was wet! My head had touched her cunt! Well, I couldn’t talk: I was wet too. We were both, in our different ways, loving this. I wanted to kiss that little cunt, but the angles were wrong. I couldn’t reach. I nuzzled her with my forehead again, though, and she moaned, leaning back, rocking a little, holding me tight.

 I had no idea what to do with a girl, and neither did she, I’m sure, but we both wanted to know. Maybe Sir might teach us, one day.

So I was smiling when the fifth and sixth strokes landed. Oh, I screamed and the tears ran down my face, and the stripes, all of them, hurt like fire, like being bitten by a snake, but I still smiled. 

Sir said, “That’s halfway, Maddie. Do you have any idea how beautiful you look? With your stripes?”

“I’ve never seen, Sir. I’ve never been caned, and I’ve only seen…”

“Don’t mention his name. Anyway, they’re very pretty on you.”

“I, uh, I’m glad you like them, Sir.” That sounds ridiculous now, when I say that’s what I said, but I meant it. I still do, whenever I get the cane.

There was a pause. With my head between Lucy’s thighs I had to imagine his smile, but I knew it was there. “Oh,” he said, “they’re something to be proud of, Maddie.”

“Yes. I think I will be. When I see them in the mirror.”

“Would you like a record? I mean a photo? Now and after the twelve?”

“Yes! I’d love to see. And …” I would have blushed, except that my face was already as red as a tomato. “Maybe it’s something to remember.”

“Good girl, Maddie. Lucy, it’ll be quite hard to take those shots without your thighs getting into the picture. Nothing else, just a pair of thighs. You can say no.”

I expected Lucy to say no, but she didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Of course. It’s an important moment.”

Sir said thank you. Sir faffed around with his phone for a while, and I said, “thank you,” too. I kissed Lucy on the inside of her thighs, twice on each side.

Then I felt the cane tapping against my bottom again.  

Wicked Wednesday: Maddie earns extra strokes

So I stayed down, bent over his desk, not even wearing a wristwatch, waiting for the light touch of the cane across my bottom. There had been two taps of the cane against my bottom, to help him to aim, and that told me where Sir was going to put the next stroke. It told me where the next fiery line of pain would land.

The tap came, twice, against my lower bottom, just above the crease of my thighs. Where the skin was softest and most sensitive, and it would hurt me most when I sat down afterwards. Then the cane swept down, and the loud crack of the bamboo on my flesh, and that line of pure pain reached my brain at the same time.

I yowled, and my hands clenched and unclenched while the pain built up. I forced my body down, the desk so cold and hard under my belly and breasts.

Eventually, I could arch my bottom out and up, the way he’d told me, to present myself for his next stroke.

Lucy said, “Two, sir. And thank you for showing me what getting the cane looks like.”

I could hear the choke in her voice. She didn’t like herself for it, but watching me get humiliated and hurt was turning her on. I could have hated her for that, but I didn’t. She was obeying orders, as I was, and we can’t help what makes us aroused.

Eventually Sir said, “Good girls. Both of you. Keep that bottom up, Maddie.”

The next three strokes were delivered with the same delicious slowness and deliberation. I knew he was watching each stripe forming, and thinking about where to put the next. He was like an artist, not a disciplinarian. He was decorating me; my pain was real, but my stripes were beautiful, to him.

I felt proud, and incredibly needy. Cunt-greedy. All I wanted was for him to fill my cunt. I needed to be fucked so badly.

I wouldn’t even care, I’d decided, if Lucy watched that too. I imagined her saying, in that high, choked voice, “Good stroke, sir! And thank you for showing me what getting fucked looks like.”

I chuckled at that thought, and that sealed my fate, I think. Sir said, “Last stroke, Maddie. A nice, traditional six of the best.” 

And I spread for him, moving my feet further apart, when he tapped the cane again, still low on my bottom. I wanted him to see how greedy my cunt was. And, I suppose, Lucy. A second passed, while he held the cane above his shoulder. And then he swung it down, across my underbum, at least twice as hard as the other strokes. Then all I knew was fire and pain. 

I screamed, and my body rose from the desk. I howled and reached back to clutch my bottom. It hurt so much! I was standing up, hands across my ass for comfort and protection, while I hopped in place and swore and swore and swore. 

Sir said, “Hands away, Maddie! Put them on your head!”

When I’d obeyed – I knew I was in trouble, and I put my hands up as fast as I could – he strode forward and spanked me hard, several times, on my bottom, already sore and striped from the cane. I managed to take those in silence, though the tears of pain and shame streamed down my face. 

He turned my face towards him then, and we were close enough to kiss. I wanted to melt into his arms, but I knew I couldn’t. It wasn’t that Lucy was watching: she was already part of this strange intimacy between us. It was that I was in disgrace. 

Sir looked at Lucy then. “What do you think happens now, Lucy?”

She was so pale. She started to speak, and cut herself off. Finally she managed to say, “I– I don’t know, Sir.” 

“If you lie to me again, Lucy, you’ll get the same as Maddie. Do you understand?” 

Lucy’s little pink tongue passed around her lips. Eventually she said, “She’d get the same again, Sir.” 

“That’s right. And if she gets up again – you hear me, Maddie! – she’ll get another twelve. All right, Lucy. Maddie’s got six strokes coming. Do you want to watch her get another twelve on top of that?”

There was another silence. I watched Lucy. She was wearing only her shirt, and perhaps a bra. Her thighs and knees were trembling, and the tears in her eyes had spilled. She said, “No, Sir.”

Then another silence. Sir and I both knew Lucy was lying. Or part of her was. But Sir said, “Then you’re a kind girl, and I’m sure you’d like to held young Maddie, wouldn’t you?” 

Lucy frowned. “Yes, Sir?” 

“Good girl. I want you to pull your shirt up to your waist, and sit on the edge of my desk. Maddie’s going to put her head in your lap while I cane her. You’re going to hold her in place, Lucy, with your thighs and your hands holding her down. And if she takes her nose out of your … lap, just once, then she’ll get the extra twelve. And you’ll get them along with her. Do you understand?”

Lucy hesitated. 

 

 

Sinful Sunday: A moment’s peace

There’s a moment of peace after her Master puts the cane down, and tells her that it’s over and she’s been a good, brave girl. 

Her mind is at peace. She was caned for her Master’s pleasure, and hers. There was nothing for her to forgive herself for, nothing for him to forgive. He’d just woken up needing her submission, urgently, and he’d cuffed her to their bed, and reached for the cane.

His strokes hurt as they fell on her, of course. But how quickly those individual flashes of pain turn to warmth, to a kind of sensual glow, and then to sexual longing. She watched him as he raised the cane. His cock lifted with that movement: caning her turned him on. 

He takes photos for her to admire later, and then puts on a condom. And he leaves her cuffed, wrists and ankles spread for him, while he poises his body above hers, ready to take her. And then that moment of peace is over. 

Click on the lips to see other Sinful Sunday entries!

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 140: Raylene’s pain does not matter

Raylene looked at the bed. While her freshly-thrashed arse burned, she didn’t want anything to touch her bottom, not even the air. So a simple order like, “Bed,” presented her with challenges she didn’t know what to do with.

I kissed her. “I said ‘bed’, Raylene darling. Yes, you’ve had your ass caned. Looks nice and sore, too. Now you’re going to get your ass into bed.”

She grimaced. “If you don’t mind, Master, I think I’d prefer to stand for the next couple of years.”

I held her to me, her head pressed loving and trusting against my chest.

And I reached down and gave her ass an open-palmed spank, as hard as I could. Raylene cried out in pain and some indignation. If I wasn’t going to feel sorry for her under those circumstances, then … when?

“Darling, you’ve got a Master. What does that make you?”

“A slave, a slavegirl of some sort?”

“Yes. We won’t say so too often, but yes, that’s exactly what it makes you.” I wasn’t sure that was true. But in the moment, sometimes I just say what I think will be hot.

“You’re property. I own you. I mentioned I’m falling in love with you, and I’ll look after you. But you don’t choose what you do, not anymore. Not once I’ve told you what to do.” 

Raylene said nothing. She put her arms around me and let her breasts weigh on my chest. She clung to me like a jasmine. 

“So you’re worried that the sheets are going to hurt your poor little ass, right?”

She looked at me, big-eyed. “Well, I can’t think of any way of being in bed where the sheets won’t hurt me. Even if I lie flat on my tummy.”

“Ok. Now, guess something. Does it matter, even a tiny bit, if the bed hurts your ass?”

“Oh.” That was a new thought. “I suppose it doesn’t.”

“That’s right. You just got a hard lesson in behaviour. It’ll go on hurting a lot for an hour or two, I expect. But it’s over. And I don’t care that your ass still hurts. Understand that. You having a sore backside: it’ll happen to you whenever I see fit, and it does not matter if it hurts. Your pain does not matter. Not during. Not afterwards.”

Raylene had listened to this open-mouthed. She didn’t disagree. These were just things that hadn’t occurred to her before. “Oh. Ok.”

“So, get onto the bed. I’d going to fuck you. I need to fuck you. I think you need to be fucked. As if what you need matters.”

She looked solemn. Then nodded. “No, of course that wouldn’t matter.”

I kissed her. I suppose I don’t cane for irony. “Get up on the bed. Hands and knees. Get your ass up, and keep it up.”

“Yes, master.” And she scrambled up onto the bed, pulling the top sheet and blankets aside, and posing like a cat needing fucking.

A cat with the yummiest, reddest, striped ass in the universe. She looked so beautiful.

“Good girl. I’m going to fuck you, pressed against that nice hot ass. I’m going to enjoy your heat. And I’m going to hurt you while I fuck you. What do you know about that?”

Raylene arched her back, presenting herself as spectacularly as she could. “I know now that it doesn’t matter if it hurts, Master.”

“Good girl. I knew you’re a clever girl.” And I took my clothes off and climbed up onto the bed with her, wanting her more desperately than I was going to tell her, and put my hands on her hips.

Sinful Sunday: the castle and the cane

Time slowed almost to a stop. The cane landed, branding its line of pain and fire across her body. She would absorb it. Eons later the cane would land again.

Perhaps time was all submission and fire,. Perhaps this never would end.

 

Note:

Still in the dining room of the castle. The light: wood and leather. And girl. And bamboo. 

 

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.

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