by Sarah Veitch
'Assume the position for cane stroke number three,' the manager instructed. Making a supreme effort, Katrina again faced the desk and got in place over it. She wanted desperately to protect her flesh from a further tanning - but she wanted even more to protect her Beauty Queen reputation and her future retail career. 'Now I have to find a nice white space on that bad bottom and turn it scarlet,' the man said.
Katrina tensed in her poor bum as she sensed him lining up the rod with it. She taloned her fingers into the desk edge and pushed her thighs together, shoved her belly into the pine surface as the cane hit home again. By now she knew what to expect, but that didn't make the chastisement any easier. She'd never get used to this.
But she could get used to that! She whimpered with need as she felt Blake Lewison gently opening her sex lips and fingering her dripping rim. 'Only another three and you get to come, sweetheart. You're doing splendidly, taking it as well as a man.'
'You could cancel the other three.' She looked back at him over her shoulder, large eyes beseeching.
'I could.' He sounded thoughtful. 'But then you wouldn't register cause and effect so strongly, might make a similar vandalistic error again.'
Katrina shook her head. 'I wouldn't. I'll never jump on another waterbed. I'll never wear stilettoes.'
'I'm pleased to hear it,' said the manager with an enigmatic smile. He flexed the rod then pulled it back again. 'But as the damage has already been done...'
This time he pitched the cane against the area where buttock meets thigh. Katrina yelped sharply and drummed her bare feet against the floor. She rubbed quickly at her punished orbs then just as quickly took her palms away from them. She wanted to get the ultimate two strokes over and done with. She wanted to come.
'Angel, are you sure you haven't spent your entire life being punished?' her temporary boss murmured. 'You've bent that bare bum so prettily over my desk and across my lap.'
Katrina flushed and bit her lip. If she was rude to him again he'd probably just lay the rod on harder. And her tender crimson orbs couldn't take much more. 'I'm ready for cane stroke five, sir,' she said as obsequiously as possible, forcing the words out through slackening lips.
'I suspect a sore bum like yours is never really ready,' Blake Lewison said. Lust flooded her as he traced the cane across her flanks.
'Please,' she whispered. 'Oh sir, please.'
'Alright, I'll play with your pussy for a little while, and maybe make it sing for its supper,' the man answered, and Katrina sagged against the table with relief. 'Do exactly as I say and do it quickly,' he continued. 'Now get your bare belly across that adjustable padded stool.'
Katrina got up carefully from the desk and followed his pointing finger with her gaze, saw the tall thick wooden stool and shuffled stiff-leggedly towards it. Her swimsuit fell to her ankles and she kicked it off and made her naked way across the room.
'Turn round for a moment and show me your tits,' Blake Lewison said crudely and Katrina obeyed him. 'Now bend over the stool and beg me to enter you, my lustful dear.'
Beyond arguing, the twenty year old did as he wished. 'Please put your cock in me, sir,' she whispered hotly. 'Please fuck me hard.'
'How hard?' Blake Lewison prompted, coming up behind her and starting to slide a teasing finger down her feverish folds.
'As hard as you want to,' the desperate girl said.
She felt him push into her, every centimetre of her hollowness being exquisitely filled. She groaned as he moved half out and her clitoris rubbed against the wood.
'I can feel your hot arse against my belly,' he said. 'I'm looking down at it as I slide in and out of you. Christ, it's like a ruby apple. It twitched so helplessly under the cane.' She heard the growing urgency in his voice. 'It squirmed every time I stepped closer to it, and you puckered up your smooth thighs and your tight little anus. That poor bum was just begging for release.'
'But you caned it anyway,' Katrina muttered.
'I've postponed the last two for a while, love, haven't I?'
Desire rushed downwards to expand her peaking pubes. 'Only because you knew I couldn't bear it.'
His tone was smooth as syrup. 'Darling if I'd wanted to I could have played your hot pussy close to its orgasmic edge and you would have begged me to thrash you soundly for another hour.'
She came then, howling desire throughout the bed-filled rooms. He came moments afterwards. They lay there breathing hard for a long time then Blake Lewison gave her some lemon-soaked clean up tissues and a lift home and insisted on waiting by the outer door of her College Hall until she'd found her key. 'Can't be too careful nowadays,' he said calmly. 'There are some very strange people around.'
'Like men who cane their temporary staff?' she jibed sleepily, standing on the step.
'Like women who have multiple orgasms after being caned,' he shot back.
Katrina stared at him for a second, then looked uncertainly away. She'd hated the bite of the rod - but she'd loved the blissful orgasmic aftermath. Could she go through it all again?
'So, what happens now?' she asked, nodding as two of her fellow students hurried by.
'Well, I'm going home for a shower,' Blake said, reaching out to straighten her crumpled T-shirt.
'That's it?' Katrina asked hollowly, realising that she desperately wanted to see him and sleep with him again.
'Then you come back to Waterbed World at 5.30pm on Wednesday and take the last two strokes of the cane on your bare bottom,' the manager continued.
Katrina felt her nipples enlarge and her groin twitch. 'And what if I don't turn up?' she challenged, gazing into his eyes.
'I'll have to come here and cane you in front of your contemporaries,' Blake Lewison countered.
'You wouldn't.' She had a sudden image of him pulling down her jeans and panties in front of ogling students and lecturers.
'Want to put me to the test?' the manager said.
He left then. Katrina went to the shower and turned the temperature gauge on cool in deference to her chastened bottom. Languid with desire, the Beauty Queen washed her scented sex fluids away. The opening lines from her speech had already fled her mind, but they no longer mattered. She knew that the closing lines Blake Lewison intended to mark on her small bare buttocks would remain in her memory for a very long time indeed.
Cheryl's Game
Note to the reader: This story was written when a magazine asked me to produce a pastiche of an existing work. I opted to write an affectionate send up of a well-known horror novel which features a handcuffed woman and a feral dog in the same isolated house.
'I'm going to spank you very hard for forgetting to bring the massage oils,' Duncan murmured.
'That'll be right,' Cheryl scoffed, then shivered as he held her wrists behind her back and she heard the handcuffs click into place. The scrape of metal. That click. The start of pain that would hopefully lead to pleasure. The decision was his.
'It's my duty to pull your pants down,' her lover continued. He was a duty solicitor at the police cells much of the time so took such concepts very seriously.
'Might want to keep them on,' Cheryl muttered, pushing her belly harder against the bed. In the side wall mirror she could see herself lying on her tummy, her already-bared breasts squashed into the duvet cover, could see Duncan's concentrating gaze.
Her briefs elastic scraped against her bum and she felt the material tauten against her cleft for a second, before the cotton was pulled down, down, down. She could see both spherical buttocks being unveiled; small and pale and vulnerable. Duncan had vowed to punish them, so they wouldn't stay pale for long.
Cheryl licked her suddenly-dry lower lip as the solicitor finished pulling her pants over her ankles. Now she was completely naked, with her hands cuffed high up her back and he could do anything he liked.
'Such a bad bottom.' He started to stroke her newly-bared swell. 'So forgetful.'
'I could go out to the village shop and...'
'Good as that grocer
is, I doubt if it sells exotic oils.' He continued to caress her rear. 'No, you've reduced my pleasure, so I'll have to take it out on your naked rear.'
'But...'
'You'll thank me one day,' he added, as she went sullen and silent. She would, Cheryl thought, but only when she'd enjoyed the orgasmic release that followed the wrigglingly-scorching pain.
'Ten minutes worth of spanks to teach you the error of your ways, I think,' Duncan finished. Cheryl closed her eyes and waited for his palm to land. Nothing happened. She opened her eyes again. 'Untense those buttocks now or you'll get double,' Duncan said. Marshalling her remaining resources, she stretched her back forward and her thighs downwards until her waiting arse was unpuckered and smooth.
'Keep it that way, or else,' said Duncan, then slapped down hard. Cheryl jerked then forced her rear end to relax again. She winced as he heated the other cheek. Then she drew in her breath as he repeated the twin spanking. Always, in her fantasies, it wasn't quite this fast and hot. But she was part of Duncan's fantasy, now, and he obviously fantasised about doling out some pretty severe thrashings. Especially to the bottom of a woman who'd promised - and failed to deliver - an oil slicked massage.
'Ouch - that really hurt.'
'I'm just getting started.'
Cheryl's bum was moving of its own accord now, tightening up and driving forward, straightening briefly between smacks as it tried to find a way to deal with the prolonged steadfast sting. She pushed her cuffed hands down towards her derriere, wishing she could get her palms low enough to ward off even a single slap of the spanking. Christ, he had aggressively accurate hands.
'Enough,' she muttered. They had a code word she had to shout when she'd really had enough, but once again she delayed using it. For if she stopped her own disciplining too early, Duncan teased her clit for the remainder of the session instead. He'd tongue her, then stop, lick some more then lapse into another discussion of how wicked she'd been until her female parts were frantic with unsated need.
Duncan spanked on, his palm roasting her arse from top to bottom, knowing palms slapping at the flinching tops of her thighs, at her furrow, at her jiggling underswell. 'I can't bear it,' she muttered, hips moving from side to side in a vain bid to avoid their correction. 'Duncan... Sir... Please!'
Sometimes if she begged sweetly enough he spontaneously squirted his pleasure over her back, then took her in his arms while he rested. 'I jerked off in the loo as soon as we reached the Cottage,' he said now. 'Sorry, Cheryl, I'm not going to spare your arse cheeks today.' He squeezed her burning spheres for a moment. 'In fact I'm going to thrash you harder and longer for being such a manipulative bitch.'
Cheryl peeked sideways at her bottom in the mirror, noting how the reddened flesh sported blurred deeper scarlet prints where Duncan's last few spanks had fallen. She flexed her shoulder muscles as best she could to keep her imprisoned arms from cramping. There was enough pain to be going on with in her poor backside.
'Oh baby, you're going to wriggle for me so much this weekend.' Duncan spanked on and on. Cheryl gritted her teeth and came close to yelling out the code that would end her chastisement. Then she broke through some inner barrier, and found herself half-wanting the fast-becoming-erotic punitive heat.
Which was when Duncan stopped, of course. He knew her so well, the beautiful bastard. 'I think you'd like to come, now,' he murmured. 'And I may let you eventually if you grovel ever so humbly for each long slow thrust of my cock.'
'Might do,' muttered Cheryl. She felt his swollen promise pushing at the entrance to her wetness and realised just how much she needed consummation. 'Duncan, please, slide it in!'
'How far in?'
'Right up me.' Her crevice was craving him now, reduced to a hollow ache that longed for fulfilling friction. She lay there on her belly, pushing her hips back in a silent beg.
'I suppose I could lend you an inch or so,' Duncan said thoughtfully, and she felt herself being widened as he started to nudge in.
She wanted more, more, more. Needed... Pushed back as best as she could - given that she couldn't use her cuffed arms for leverage - and heard him swear. 'Oh dear - you scratched me with your toenails. Haven't I told you to keep them short?'
'I didn't mean...' The handcuffs prevented her shrug. She lay there, helpless.
'I'll have to go to the village shop and buy some antiseptic now,' Duncan said.
Cheryl felt the head of his cock leave her sex. She never understood how he had the willpower to do this bit, to leave her body when it was so wet and welcoming.
'Please, Duncan, bring me off first,' she pleaded, rolling over onto her hot bum and cuffed hands and spreading her legs wide apart.
'I'm going to make you wait,' said Duncan. 'And you'd better not try anything yourself.'
'I've not got access to my hands,' Cheryl pointed out forlornly.
'Good,' said Duncan, 'I intend to keep it that way.'
He played idly with the tender nipple of her right breast as he put on his shoes. As usual, he'd stayed fully dressed throughout the session. 'I'm going to take the cuffs off and tie your hands in front of you to prevent cramp setting in,' he said. 'I'll leave the scissors on the dressing table in case there's an emergency. Stay exactly as you are if there's not.'
'Yes, sir,' Cheryl muttered, finding her spirit again.
'Call me Master.' She stuck her tongue out at him them shivered as he slid a hand under her body and squeezed her buttocks. 'You'll say it with feeling when I come back.'
He left. She heard the door banging back and forward. They really must fix that lock before they returned to the city. A chihuahua padded into the room and jumped up to lick the quarter of the duvet that was smeared with sex juice. Weren't they known as lap dogs? Cheryl wished she had a toffee she could put in a strategic place.
The canine midget left. Duncan would be gone for some time. Cheryl rolled over onto her side and pulled the bedside cabinet drawer open with her teeth. Now she could see the ten inch black ribbed multi-speed vibrator. Come to me, baby. She edged her tied hands forward. The free end of rope looped round the handle of the drawer by mistake.
Damn it. Carefully Cheryl edged her arms back, then up. The rope slid away from its impediment. Try again. She went in above the drawer at a right hand angle this time. Held her breath, then caught the end of the dildo between her fingers. Thank God he hadn't tied them or her thumbs. She had some movement in all ten digits which gave her leeway, used a swinging sideways throw to bring the sex toy onto the top of the bed. Then she pushed both pinkies upwards against the switch till it flicked to on, and the pleasure-promising buzz filled the room.
Now all she had to do was get it inside her. He'd bound her hands too high up for them to reach her labial lips. Cheryl trapped the toy under her belly then made rolling movements to push it down, down, down. Going, going... She caught her breath as the tip vibrated against her pubis. But she wanted it deep inside it, where Duncan's cock had so briefly been.
Left a bit. Up a bit. She half-raised onto her knees, looked under her body at the sweet sexual substitute prick. The dog trotted into the room again. Cheryl ignored it, realising it was just a diversion of the author's, who having cuffed his victim to a bed in a holiday cottage, doesn't know what to do with her for eighty thousand words.
'Damn you, Duncan,' she muttered, then added 'Didn't mean it.' God knows, the intrepid solicitor might well hear. Three weeks ago she'd brought a tape-recorder to the cottage, meaning to listen to Wet Wet Wet lyrics whilst she got the same way with her lover. He'd gone out to buy a replacement lightbulb leaving her chained to the settee. She'd struggled to bring herself off by squatting over a cushion and squeezing her thighs against it. 'Fuck you, Duncan,' she'd muttered. 'Screw you!' On his return he'd rewound the blank tape he'd sneaked into the machine and listened, mouth tightening, then he'd picked up the thick leather martinet...
She had to come. Like now. Like yesterday. Cheryl sat up again and grasped the vibrator between her ankles.
She steadied it against her bound hands, then lowered herself slowly down. Almost, almost. The top of it opened her up. She wriggled until her body could take another inch, and another, only stopped when most of it was in.
Such pulsing promissory heat. Pleasure thrilled through her sex leaves to her belly. Even her anus felt more alive. And her clit! The area behind it and beneath it was a spreading network of near-bliss, thighs tensing as nirvana got nearer. Head pleading, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.
Bound hands, a spanked bum, a vaginal vibrator and a lover who's forbidden you to... she moaned three times as the sweetness began to peak, hearing her own cries turning into something guttural and wolverine as she ground herself against the surging sensation and came and came.
'Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.' She hadn't heard him come back, but then she'd been making lots of her own noises.
'You were gone so long,' she said, pleadingly, trying to wriggle free of the vibrator.
'Mmm. And do you know why? Because the village has now got a little gardening centre.' He unzipped his sports bag. 'And do you see what I bought there? That's right - a cane.'
'It's bamboo. Too thick. You're supposed to use a specially made rattan or...'
'I know. But in the circumstances your bum needs something severe.'
'I just...'
'You didn't wait for my seven inch cock, so that means seven of the best for starters.'
'So many?' Cheryl whimpered.
'Stop complaining girl, or I may make it ten.'
He untied her wrists. 'Right, let's get you over the breakfast bar stool, arse at the ready. No, bring it into the bedroom and place it in the centre of the floor.'
Cheryl did. Her face, her rump, her mons felt flushed. 'You'll fuck me till I come after my caning?'
'As long as you take every stroke without touching your sore rear end.'
Swallowing nervously, Cheryl bent over the piece of furniture until her bottom was raised high into the air. God, her cheeks felt vulnerable. Still, giving him an excuse to go to the shops had earned her time for self-pleasure before the next punishment began. She fancied that next weekend she'd forget to do the food shopping but would remember to leave that temptingly vibrating anal plug on top of the kitchen table. She knew that when it came to plotting out correction she was the real unrecognised King.
