She waited to feel his hand caress her taut flesh, as was his usual manner, but he didn’t. Then she remembered his edict. There was to be no affection and minimal touching. Then suddenly she yelped as he grabbed her hair and abruptly pulled her up straight. He placed a blindfold of unyieldingly heavy leather across her eyes, and there was nothing sensuous or comforting about it.
‘Open your mouth,’ he ordered curtly.
She did so, and he gagged her with a musty piece of cloth.
‘Wrists.’
She blindly offered them to him, lifting them before her. He bound them together then pulled her forward. She fell across the bed and immediately felt his hands at her ankles, tying them together with some sort of rope.
She then heard him moving around the room, the opening and closing of a wardrobe door, then the dreaded cane was resting on the silky smooth slopes of her vulnerable bottom.
He held it there for long breathless moments, admiring the vision before him. Her porcelain-white moons were delectable indeed… she was delectable indeed.
There was no escape for her now. He’d outlined the punishment and she’d accepted it, and now the first stage was to be carried out. He slid the cane back and forth across her skin, concentrating on his target, adding to her apprehension, and then raising the whippy implement meaningfully he paused again, hand high above his head, then swept his arm down with the full weight of his shoulder behind it. The cane hissed through air, landing across her flesh with a cruel crack!
The gorgeous girl stiffened, as though unable to believe the pain or import of what he’d just inflicted upon her, and had the air not caught in her lungs she would have screamed the house down. As it was her mouth gaped and she chewed the gag, but no coherent sound emerged from her tensed body. Instantly a bright red stripe rose and dissected her bottom from one buttock to the other, spanning the deep and shadowy divide.
He rested the tip of the rod on the small of her back, leaving it there, then leaned forward.
‘Stroke number one,’ he whispered callously.
A branding iron could not have been worse, searing her flesh. She felt the tears trying to squeeze from the corners of her tightly clamped eyelids, but strained to fight them back, not wanting to admit to herself or to him that the very first single strike had almost broken her. She was panting through the gag. The burning in her bottom wasn’t easing, and she still had five strokes to go. Feeling the rod resting on her lower back, she wondered how long she would be made to wait before the next appalling stroke was applied.
Then she realised something was tickling her clitoris. It didn’t feel like a finger, but whatever it was, it was insistent, sliding back and forth, circling her most sensitive button. She could not help but writhe a little, at least as much as her bonds would allow. Whatever it was rubbed more aggressively and she felt herself growing wet from its attention. It was insistent, toying and playing between her sex lips, and she moaned into the gag with pleasure. She wondered if she’d misunderstood him, because she could already feel a bubble of bliss beginning to grow. Just a minute or two more of such delightful teasing…
She felt the rod being moved from her back, and it settled a couple of inches below the throbbing mark of the first stroke. Lord Michael heard her take a deep breath, then lifting it he paused ritually, eyed the delicious target below, then swept his arm down with equally vehement velocity as he used for the first strike. The cane sank into her flesh with savage force and she jerked her head up, writhing in torment, squealing through the gag.
‘Stroke number two,’ he declared precisely, watching her squirm, the cheeks of her bottom gyrating unintentionally salaciously.
‘Should I stop now, Elizabeth?’ he goaded. ‘You can always save yourself such punishment and go home; return to your former life.’
Despite being very nearly tempted to do just that, she shook her head fervently, determined to overcome.
‘I did warn you,’ he continued. ‘There is no pleasure in this, is there, my dear?’ Again she shook her head. ‘You wanted your bottom warmed, so perhaps this will teach you to be careful what you ask for.’
Resting the cane on the small of her back once more, he moved the riding crop and began to tease her again, and very soon heard the telltale panting of arousal and removed it, then smiling with satisfaction at the two wicked welts he’d adorned her exquisite rump with, he moved silently away and left the room.
Elizabeth barely heard the door open and close, but she was aware of it. She was beside herself with desire, but the scorching pain in her buttocks compounded this. She was paying dearly for her misbehaviour, and he was right; she would never, ever forget this. At that moment she hoped she would never again give him cause to cane her so stringently.
The minutes ticked slowly by, and Elizabeth had no idea how much time was passing. The lull seemed endless, she was beginning to ache from being in one position for so long, and her stinging welts were no less keen.
When she heard the door open again she breathed a sigh of relief, but it was momentary. Without a word the rod was lifted off her back, and seconds later it landed across the middle of her tensed rear, wrenching an unbidden muffled shriek from her lungs.
‘Stroke number three,’ he proclaimed, and before she had time to engage her thoughts it landed once more, blistering her skin with a line of fire. She shrieked again, and despite her best efforts the tears started to squeeze from beneath the blindfold.
‘Stroke number four.’
He slid the rod between her thighs, skimming it between her sex lips, and despite the scalding anguish of her bottom she could not help but surrender to the erotic torment. She wriggled, and Lord Michael enjoyed the view of her movements and her striped bottom as she tried to pleasure herself against the teasing stick. But it was to no avail. As soon as her panting sighs revealed the state of her arousal he returned it to its resting place, where it forewarned of its potency, across her lower back.
Nancy entered silently, carrying a blanket and pillow, casting a glance at the victim’s punished behind. She knew how she felt, for once upon a time, not so long ago, she’d suffered the same sentence. And even now, on the first day of every month, she would lift her skirt, bend over the back of the sofa in the sitting room, and Lord Michael would give her a single powerful stroke. It was all she needed to remain submissive and compliant, and the truth was there were times when she looked forward to it immensely, for it helped her maintain an emotional balance.
She laid the pillow and blanket on the floor next to her master’s bed, and with a curtsy, left and closed the door. Elizabeth had been completely unaware of her brief presence.
He began to prepare for bed. He went to the adjoining bathroom and ran a bath, then disrobed, folding his clothes neatly and placing them in the hamper. He took his time, and when the bath was full he returned to finish the caning.
He picked up the rod, and without a word or fuss he laid it against the lower curve of Elizabeth’s bottom. He raised it, swept it down again, and listened to the now familiar muffled shriek.
‘Stroke number five,’ he said uncompromisingly, wondering if he should lay on the last cut immediately or wait until after his bath. He decided to finish the job, untie her, and order her to her place on the floor. He could then go directly to bed after bathing.
So having decided he raised the rod again and cut it swiftly down across the milky cheeks, savouring the delicious sight of them quivering as the wooden implement sank into their softness. He knew very well the beaten area would now be acutely sensitive, and the stroke would smart immeasurably more than those that visited her rear previously, but that did not cause him to ease up on her. She deserved all she received, and no mistake.
‘Stroke number six,’ he said as she howled into the gag, her toes curling and her fingers clutching at thin air, and then he returned the rod to its cabinet.
He returned to her, viewed his handiwork proudly, and then waited until she appeared sufficiently comp
osed. He removed the blindfold and the gag, and untied her ankles and wrists. Then helping her to the blanket and pillow he ordered her to bed, and then took his bath. He could hear her moaning softly throughout, and was satisfied that the girl had been soundly caned.
As Elizabeth lay under the rough blanket she ached for his comforting arms. Her bottom was scalded and throbbing horribly, and she had no idea how much she would miss his affection after such a punishment, but it was all part of her sentence. She had to pay the price to prove her commitment and remorse, and she was a very sorry girl indeed.
By the time he emerged from the bathroom Elizabeth felt a deal calmer, though the intense burning had barely eased at all. He climbed into bed, and as he doused the bedside lamp he gave her one last instruction.
‘No touching yourself, Elizabeth,’ he said. ‘You may comfort your sore bottom if you need to, and if you can bear to touch it, but you are not to relieve any sexual frustrations in any way. Do you understand me?’
‘Yes, sir,’ she said weakly, her voice a whisper.
The following morning Elizabeth was woken sharply by the blanket being pulled from her aching body. He was standing over her, fully dressed, ready for the day, holding a tapered crop. He tapped the insides of her thighs, forcing them apart, and then placed the tip of the leather implement directly against her clitoris.
She was startled and still half asleep, but that didn’t stop her body from responding. He probed and toyed and soon she was squirming, wanting more. It was a cruel instrument indeed, and with his skill it was enough to drive her mad with lust, but deliberately not to the point of taking her over the brink.
How long he tortured her she did not know, but eventually he ordered her to her feet, and she stood unsteadily. He reached between her legs, and satisfied with her wetness, he heartlessly turned and left the room.
She was burning with need and she was craving release. Her bottom was tender and sore, but she did not have time to give it any real thought, for the door opened and Nancy appeared, carrying towels and some fresh clothes.
Suddenly embarrassed at her nakedness, Elizabeth snatched up the blanket and attempted to cover herself, but her state of undress did not seem to bother Nancy at all. She barely glanced in her direction, going straight to the bathroom to run a bath.
Still clutching the blanket Elizabeth tentatively moved to the open doorway, and Nancy looked up and smiled at her.
‘It appears you’ve been forgiven,’ she said cheerfully.
‘Um, yes,’ Elizabeth concurred, a little unsure of herself, ‘it would appear so.’
‘Your punishment will be over before you know it,’ the housemaid opined. ‘Lord Michael has sent for some of your things, but in the meantime here are some fresh clothes.’
‘Thank you,’ she said gratefully, a little surprised by the familiarity the maid was still showing her. It was a very different situation than that to which she was accustomed.
‘When you’re dressed you are to come downstairs,’ the maid informed her. ‘There’ll be some breakfast waiting for you in the dining room, and you may then do as you please for the rest of the morning, although Lord Michael has said you will report to him in his study at one o’clock.’
Then glancing at the bathwater she added, ‘I’ll leave you to it now.’ She gave Elizabeth another smile, and then left her alone.
Elizabeth folded the blanket and placed it next to the pillow, then went back to the bathroom. Lowering herself into the hot water she winced as it lapped her ravaged bottom, but gradually the severe sensations eased and submersed herself up to her shoulders, lying back and relaxing in its revitalising heat.
As she picked up the soap and began to wash, she knew she had to get through the next few days. Letting out a deep sigh she focused on what lay ahead. She would persevere. She would show him just how determined she could be, that she wasn’t just a spoilt, flighty girl.
The clothes Nancy left her were simple; a plain pink cotton dress, but no undergarments. She assumed that was in accordance with Lord Michael’s instructions, and did not ask about the lack of a petticoat or drawers when she went downstairs.
She realised she was hungry, which was not surprising since she’d barely eaten any lunch or dinner the previous day, and considering the exhausting and dramatic rigours her body had been put through. When she sat down to eat she felt the mark of the cane acutely, but in a strange way it was comforting. It was a reminder that she was back under his authority and paying for her wayward behaviour.
By the time she finished eating she felt much better, and spent the rest of the morning looking through his library, selecting some books she might read over the following days of her confinement period.
She wasn’t hungry at midday and so skipped the lunch offered by Nancy, and when the library clock reminded her it was twelve fifty-five she hurried to his study, and then waited outside the door until she heard it chime one o’clock. She wanted to be right on time.
Knocking tentatively she waited, and then heard his voice beckon her. She entered, and saw him sitting at his desk. He stood up, walked past her and closed the door, turning the key in the lock. Without a word he then took her by the arm, walked her to his desk and unceremoniously bent her over it, lifting her dress up onto the small of her back once he was satisfied she was positioned just as he wanted her.
He studied the ridged tramlines of his handiwork. They were almost perfectly formed, and he knew they would still carry quite a smart. Reaching between her legs he touched her, significantly finding the first evidence of moistness on her pouting labia.
She felt so vulnerable and embarrassed, bent and exposed to his whims and fancies as she was. He’d certainly seen her naked charms before, but it was the detached and brooding manner in which he was dealing with her that made her pulse quicken anxiously. She wondered how her punished bottom looked to him, but despite her discomforting predicament, when he touched her pussy lips she wanted to wriggle against his fingers.
But she didn’t get the chance to, for he moved away and walked to a cabinet. She stole a glance over her shoulder, and saw he was returning with a crop in his determined grip. Surely he was not going to use that on her, not after what she’d suffered only the day before!
As he had done in the morning, he tapped between her thighs, signalling she should separate her legs. He touched the tongue of the crop against her pussy, and began to lightly tap it, delicately spanking her labia, and then locating and doing the same to her clitoris.
Her unquenched desire from the morning was still upon her, and she responded quickly. She began to writhe lewdly, and to her surprise he did not tell her to stop.
He liked her erotic display. Watching her striped behind moving so salaciously was extremely enjoyable. He already had quite an impressive erection, so he instructed her to close her eyes, and then without missing a beat with the crop, opened his trousers and held his pulsing cock in his free fist. He began to pump himself as he tormented her, avidly watching her twisting, striped bottom as he did so. His first spasm was soon upon him and he relaxed and submitted to it, taking immense pleasure and gratification from the release, and as he ejaculated over her squirming buttocks he heard her panting increase, at the edge of her own moment, and hastily withdrew the teasing crop.
As his breathing calmed he took his handkerchief he wiped his residue from her mouth-watering bottom, and the tip of his wilting penis, then refastened his trousers, but left the tormented girl as she was so he could enjoy the delicious picture for a few more minutes.
Feeling quite refreshed from his activities he touched between her legs again, and found her to be very wet – exactly as he wanted her. He moved away and unlocked the door, instructing her to stand up, straighten her clothing and leave.
Elizabeth was in a terrible state. She felt unsteady on her feet, her pussy was tingling and she was light-headed with her craving for release.
She took herself straight upstairs to his bedroom, knowing it w
as forbidden for her to touch herself, but hoping perhaps a lie down might help assuage her suffering.
Without really thinking about it, she instinctively lay on the blanket on the floor, resting her head on the pillow, which was a very wise move for Lord Michael looked in to check on her, wanting to make sure she did not take any liberties with his bed, and to confirm she was not furtively bringing forth her own release.
Later that evening during dinner Elizabeth was reserved and extremely gracious, only speaking when spoken to and granted permission to respond. The simple pink cotton dress suited her mood perfectly, and he enjoyed the way it outlined her shapely figure, leaving nothing to the imagination, and he loved the thought of her wearing no undergarments, easily available to his eye or his hand at any time.
After dinner he told her to take her bath and retire for the night, and later, lying beneath the blanket, she felt a deep tranquillity. This was how she wanted to spend the rest of her life, under Lord Michael’s authority, where there were rules and consequences, and a deeply abiding devotion.
When he woke her up she did not know what time it was, but he was sitting on the edge of the bed and he ordered her up and across his lap. She was naked, not having been given a nightdress, and once over his knee he touched between her legs again. She was wet, her lips acutely sensitive to the touch, and using his forefinger and thumb he quickly brought her to the edge of a climax, but as soon as he had her on the brink he cruelly ordered her back on the floor and told her to go back to sleep.
The days that followed conformed to the same format. His teasing switch would wake her, then Nancy would appear with a fresh cotton dress. Frequently she wondered if her clothes had arrived from home, but dare not ask him.
After lunch he would summon her to his study for more tormenting, and after dinner it was straight to her blanket on the floor, only to be disturbed when he retired and left in a state of desperate longing until she fell into a restless sleep. She missed his affection terribly, and she missed his company, for though she was in his house, sleeping next to his bed, he was removed and aloof.
Elizabeth's Education (Forbidden Lust) Page 15
