The novel this is from was unpublished when I put this post up.

Now it’s about to be published, so free segments from it have to be taken down.

In this episode, a girl who likes to show off gets two witnesses to watch her first caning.

She laughed again. “You! You’re not making it up as you go along. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

I decided to leave that unchallenged. It wasn’t remotely true, but it was good that she thought so. So I shrugged, I hope ambiguously. “Anyway, I’m falling in love with you. And, you don’t have to fall in love with me. I just blurted.”

“Yeah. It’s okay. Seriously, it’s much better than okay. Just .. give me time, ok?”

“Yeah.” To mark of the end of one sensitive conversation, and to remind her of other sensitivities, I smacked her ass, hot and welted under my hand.

Raylene jolted. “Yah fuck!”

So I smacked her again, then let my hand stay, stroking her. Firm, beautifully rounded, a little rough where the cane had directly landed, and blazing heat.

She said, “Jesus, my arse is sore. How long does it hurt for?”

“Well, this is peak hurt. It lasts maybe half an hour from the last cane stroke, though it’ll keep on hurting quite a lot, slightly lower level, for a couple of hours. Especially after I’ve given you the second dozen.”

“Yuh. I haven’t forgotten. Master.”

“Good girl. It’ll maybe hurt most of today. Though it’ll be at a lower level. You’ll feel it, but it’ll be background. And you’ll probably like it. A nice, sexy, buzzing feeling. And I’ll be looking after you. And for the next couple days you’ll get a reminder any time you sit down. Or, I don’t know, walk backwards into anything. And don’t forget I can bring you back to peak hurt anytime, just by smacking you hard with my hand. And I won’t hesitate, if you’re out of line for a second. You put the Me in Master.”

She frowned. “And without the ME it’s a-s-t-r. Star! Ah! You’re a star Master!” 

“Yeah, it was really stupid when I said it. Now it sounds cool.” 

“You’re going to hurt me when you fuck me.” That was a demand.

“Promise. That’s a promise. Not accidentally.”

Her eyes shone. She might not be in love with me, but we were perverts. “Yeah.”

I heard the bathroom door open. “Yeah indeed. Now. Running on the spot, Raylene.”

“What?”

I put the cane in her mouth, for her to hold. And I put my cock all the way back inside my jeans “On the spot. Running. Get your knees up.”

“Ub.” Raylene took her hands down from her head, and shambled into action.  

“Knees higher or I’ll beat you. Girl.”

Raylene lifted her knees. I could hear Dorabella, still talking, in the corridor. Raylene jogged and jiggled, with her spectacular back to the door.

I’m a good host.

There was a pause while Dorabella, Lynette and I gazed at Raylene, who stood straight, her hands on her head forcing her gaze down slightly. The floor; the visual fascination of floors, for submissives. Her buttocks well and redly striped, with a few downward-sloping welts on her upper right thigh where the end of the cane had whipped. Those would be hurting.

Her face was flushed with sobbing, and her cheeks still wet with tears. Her upper lip was shiny, unromantically enough, with phlegm. I took the tissues box and stepped in front of her so she could watch me.

“Good girl.” I wiped her face clean and dry, dabbing at the tears and wiping her lip, then holding a handful of tissues to her nose. She leaned forward at the waist and blew. After four fierce snorts, head shaking and many, many tissues, she smiled and straightened up. She could breathe through her nose. Then we looked into each other’s eyes.

Dorabella suddenly sang out, “Loo break! Loo break!” She put her arm round Lynette’s shoulder – Lynette had been slower to react – and bustled them both to the door. “Come on, we can, oh, powder our noses. Girl stuff! Exciting!”

Lynette said, “Buh,” and then she was gone. 

So Raylene and I were suddenly alone, in a silent room. I put my hands on her back, just above the highest cane stroke, and pulled her close. “Subtle, your sister, isn’t she?”

Raylene laughed suddenly. She hadn’t expected to be laughing anytime soon. “Like a truck!” She shook her head, amused, then lifted her face up to be kissed. I provided kisses. Time passed. I could hear Dorabella and Lynette in the bathroom, though I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Dorabella was doing most of the talking. 

Eventually Raylene looked up. “Did you say you were falling in love with me?” 

“Yeah, sorry. The awkward declaration. You don’t have to … reciprocate. I mean you have to do as you’re told. But your emotions, they’re mostly up to you. It’s true, but I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. You know. I can’t take it back, but – ”

“Shut up.” I must have looked astonished. “Shut up, Master. I don’t know, Master. I know you weren’t trying to put me on the spot. And it’s not like it’s a bad thing. How can I mind you falling in love with me? “

“Yeah. I lead with my chin, me. Possibly my mouth.”

“That’s not what you’re leading with.” She rubbed her belly against my cock. 

I said, as I had to Lynette in similar circumstances, “Ah fuck…” But to Raylene I added, “And I really need to fuck you.”

“Yeah. Oh, yeah.” That was enthusiasm. She took her hands down and stroked me. My mouth fell open, information from my cock and its soft handling over-riding all else. I had nothing to say.

“Anyway, you’re my Master. That happened fast. And I didn’t actually ask you if you wanted to be.”

“You can’t have had any doubt, though. Very happy to be your Master. Fucking happy. Going to fuck you.” I was still being stroked. 

I had both hands on her burning ass now. My body was moving with her hands.

She didn’t stop. I couldn’t tell her to stop. “Well, we’re going pretty fast. If I’m calling you Master, that’s a pretty big commitment anyway. And I don’t mind that. And I mean it too, I mean everything that goes with it. Whatever that is.”

“We’ll make it up as we go along.”

She laughed, as if I’d said something ridiculous and she was in on the joke. 

Raylene dropped again, squatting then leaning forward to rest the weight of her upper body on her hands. Her face was face was red, with effort rather than embarrassment.

I watched her shoot her legs out, so her scarlet ass was the highest part of her body, now resting on her hands and toes. 

It occurred to me that I should make Raylene exercise more. 

Not because she wasn’t fit. Her ass proclaimed, in blazing color, that she was a naughty girl and now she was being punished for it. That’s always a distracting sight, at least for people like me. And for Lynette, it seemed. But Raylene’s ass and thighs also told of hours spent on gym equipment, or more likely just walking up and down the hills of this harbourside city. She was a fit, strong girl.

She straightened up again. “Seven, Master!”

“Good girl.”

“Thank you!” But her breasts bobbed and jiggled so beautifully when she had to move quickly that it’d be a shame not to make her do it more often.

Even if I couldn’t always get her an audience, other than just me.

“Ah, eight, Master!”

I looked at Lynette. “Do you think she needs an exercise program? Something like cycling in the air, and more squat thrusts every night before bed?”

Lynette was watching Raylene’s ass. Fervently. But she looked up and said, “Yes. I think so.”

“Nine, Master!”

“Good girl.” That was to Raylene. To Lynette I said, “Well, we’ll see. Perhaps we’ll hold it off till midnight tonight.”

Dorabella laughed, I guess at Lynette’s expression. Or Raylene’s. “Ten, Master!”

But Dorabella tried to sound serious and helpful when she said, “She’s always wanted a coach. Haven’t you, Raylene? She thinks she doesn’t exercise enough. So, Jaime, I think it’d be good for her if you make her.”

“Eleven, Master!” Raylene’s voice had taken on that whiny tone again. She wasn’t sure she liked the direction this was going. Which, because life is sexy when it’s complicated, meant that she loved it.

We all watched her last squat thrust. She stood straight, breasts still quivering, ass still glowing. “Twelve, Master.”

After a second she put her hands on her head.

Raylene dropped, as I’d told her, squatting on her toes. She looked up at me, still in slight disbelief, and I nodded. She let her weight fall forward onto her hands, fingers and thumbs on the carpet, and kicked her legs back.

She paused in plank position, her weight resting on her toes and her straining arms. Her arse, still freshly, redly, caned and – she’d complained – burning hot, squirmed appealingly with the effort. Then she came back to squat position. She paused. 

I touched her side with the cane. The heavier cane that was going to deliver the next twelve strokes. “Keep going and don’t stop for a second. And count them. Out loud. Say, ‘one!'”

“One! Master.” There was a slightly whiny tone to the second word, as if a kind master wouldn’t do this to her.

I was unsympathetic. “Just do as you’re told.”

She dropped and performed again. “Two, Master.”

“And anyway, it’s for your own good. It’ll keep you from being too stiff tomorrow.”

She nodded as she came upright again. “Three, Master.” She sounded better.

I had no idea whether the exercise would reduce muscular stiffness from her caning. No one in their right mind should take health advice from an obvious pervert.

But I did know, or strongly guess, that Raylene was enjoying the display she was making. And I knew she could feel Lynette’s cool, appraising interest, watching her move as she worked her ass and thighs. As well as my more overt pleasure in her.

“Four, Master.” She sounded a little winded. I brought the cane down on her upper hip, very gently, and she sped up.

“Five, Sir. I mean Master!”

“You’ve already got an extra punishment stroke coming, Raylene. There can be more.”

“Yes, Master! I’m sorry. Six, Master.”