Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 80: Raylene fetches the cane, I fetch her sister

Morning hair. Morning, Raylene!

Morning hair. Morning, Raylene!

I faced Raylene over her pillows. I didn’t mind waking up next to her. She stirred, looked at me and smiled. So apparently I was good news too. 

I watched her face, and in a few seconds I saw it: the moment when she remembered she was going to go down in a tee-shirt to the bamboo grove at rear of the church.

She’d cut and fetch me two new bamboo canes, and then hold still for me while I tested both canes across her ass. Possibly with Lynette watching. The micro-expressions went: puzzlement, then alarm, then amusement at me, and the thought that it might be an adventure: a kind of happiness. She laughed, very low. “Oh, you’re really going to go through with this?”

I kissed her nose. She smelled of sex: cunt, come and sweat. We were both wearing each other’s fluids: we’d got us all over us. The whole room smelt of our fucking, probably. “You’ve got lovely eyes. I don’t know if I mentioned that. And a great ass.” 

“I remember hearing something about my ass. Not my eyes though.” 

Underdressed woman at church. (Actually it's Laura Lush, bass-player with Get Shot, outside the Westborough Baptist Church.)

Underdressed woman at church. (Actually it’s Laura Lush, bass-player with Get Shot, outside the Westborough Baptist Church.)

“Yeah. You’re going to get your ass into a tee-shirt, soon. And you’re going to cut two canes for me to use on you. Remember?”

She did the face of a waiter remembering an order. “One thick, one skinny. The Laurel and Hardy of canes.” – I laughed at that – “And me at your mercy. All vulnerable. And Lynette maybe watching.” 

“Yep.” 

“Ah fuck. You’re a fucking pervert, you know.” 

I kissed her forehead, nose and cheek this time. “So true. You’d better get started.”

“Toilet. Clean teeth.” She pushed the sheets and blankets aside. 

“Little teeshirt and nothing else. Yeah.”

gettingupspankedRaylene, naked, ass still showing signs of my mistreatment, and smelling of fucking, got out of bed. She selected a tee-shirt with the pre-revision table of elements across her breasts. It reached about twelve centimetres down her thighs. She’d be at risk of flashing her cunt at the church-goers with every step she’d take. 

I watched her walk out. Cotton clung to her ass as she moved.

She might well cause heart attacks among the old men waiting for the church to open. But they’d die happy.

I rolled out of the bed myself, and put on Raylene’s robe. Pink dragons, I was wearing. I took them into Bellie’s room.

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