The cane tapped, 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 forced my body to stay down, the desk so cold and hard under my belly and breasts. Lucy said, “That’s two, sir. And thank you for showing me what getting the cane looks like.”
But I’m going to have to cut here, though. This has been published and my publishers don’t want free competition from me. You can read it here.