Corduroy

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Art by James Needham   www.jamesneedhamart.com

It was their second “real” date, if you didn’t count the many shared coffees and scones at Biddle’s across from the office. He didn’t. Those were encounters, conversations, quips and exchanges, each one pleasant as a warm autumn sunset but each a water bug, just skimming the surface. You could have these brushes forever and never peel away the top layer of what might be a relationship let alone approach any intimacy.

That, in his mind, could only be done at night-away from thoughts about work, the co-worker interruptions that-even if they didn’t happen were just beyond the door. For him it meant wine and small plates across town. Seemed like that worked for her too.

She was swirling her Gris and dipping a tiny wedge of toasted sourdough into a swirl of fresh hummus and green olive tapenade.

“Wine OK?” he asked.

“Think so”, she said nibbling the toast. “It’s a little too cold”.

“Just hold it in your hand. You’re hot enough to warm it in no time.”

She laughed hard for a moment, leaning back in the chair, her bright brown eyes dancing. She was beautiful, he thought just then.  He had her firmly in the cute column-eyes, button nose with a spatter of freckles, loose chestnut hair framing her face-but she was beyond cute a step or too.

“Didn’t figure you to go for cheesy.”

“You never know what a girl’s going to like”, she said.

He smiled at that and looked down into his own glass-a bold, earthy Cab Franc. Indeed, he thought.  It was about now, somewhere between the second and third dates, that he would begin to feel like a fraud. He knew he was never straight with women-at least not in the beginning. Which is why he figured his relationships never lasted very long. They were great for what they were-good conversations, some nice dinners, usually fair to good sex but nothing too deep or lasting. Maybe he was the water bug.

When he looked back up she was smiling at him.

“Welcome back.” she said. “Where did you go?”

“Oh, sorry”, He said. “Just thinking.”

“Uh huh…” she said, drawing it out.

He had the sensation of standing at the top of a ski slope. That moment when the lift was gone and your tips were headed down and there was no going back. The only way off the mountain was down. He opted to push off.

“I was thinking how I’d love to dress you in corduroy.”

“Corduroy?” she laughed pleasantly. “That’s a new one.  I could imagine silk maybe-a man could want to dress me in the finest silks”-she gave a leering voice impression. “Or leather if you’re of that mind. I’d love to see you in leather”, she mugged sounding sibilant and fey rather than the threatening she was probably going for.

“Would they be brown?” she asked dragging the joke further. “I had a professor who would wear the same brown cords every day. Unless he had a closet full of them. And I don’t know which would be worse.”

“Definitely not brown”, he said. “And maybe a little different than what you are thinking.”

“Tell me then….”

“What I see, what I’d like to do, is take you home and actually undress you.”

“Really”, she said leaning in smiling.

“Really. Get you naked and lie you face down on my bed. Then I have these canes which I would like to use on you. They are long and whippy and leave beautiful welts.”

The smile faded a little and twisted. “That sounds like it would hurt.”

“It would, I guess. It stings, I’ll give you that. Burns in spots. When applied correctly a stroke could even feel like a shock-a hot buzz. What’s key though is that I cover your whole bottom top to…well bottom, so that when you reach back and run your fingertips over them, it would feel like…”

“Corduroy” she answered.

“Exactly”, he said. That was it! He had finished the run and pulled up at the bottom of the slope.

“And this is what I could expect if we went back to your apartment?” she asked slowly.

“That’s one of the things that could happen, sure. Remember, I said I’d love to dress you in corduroy. Not that I definitely would. Or not that I HAD to. Or not that I would tonight…necessarily. But I’d be thinking about it.”

She shifted in her seat and kept his eyes.

“I think I would love that feel on you though. Thinking about it now. After I laid these ridges across your bum I’d rub them for sure. Some oil or cream to cool them down but mostly so I could feel them with my own fingers. Or tongue.”

“Oh”, she said in a small voice.

“I’d play them like piano keys, like the frets on my old Gibson…”

“Holy shit Warren. This never came up over scones!”

His turn to smile. “Not exactly coffee talk”.

Her laugh was a quick little bark that she, embarrassed, stifled quickly.

“But see, there is something else. I’d have to make the ridges high enough-without marking you really-so that I could feel them when I entered you from behind. When you’re oiled and creamed I’d want to spread your legs and crawl up between them and slip inside so that I could feel the welts on your hot little bottom rubbing against me.”

Her cheeks flushed a pretty, soft pink. Could have been the wine. But wasn’t.

She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I have to ask. When you are in me. From behind? What is your point of entry? Exactly.”

His chest fluttered. “Does it matter?”

“I cum better one way than the other.”

“You would tell me which, right? I wouldn’t have to guess.”

That twisted smile again. “I’d tell you.”

He noticed that she was swirling an empty glass. “Another?”

“Why not tonight?”

“What?”

“You said it wouldn’t happen tonight.”

“Not necessarily tonight.”

“But it could…”

He caught the waitress’ eye and asked for the check.

 

 

 

Same Dance, Different Music

“I think I need a spanking”, she said.

I heard her but didn’t react right away. There are a few things I’d expect me wife to say before that. “Look, a unicorn in the garden”, is one. “I love your clutter in the garage, it’s so cute”, would be another. In our relationship, she does initiate at times but pert near never from the bottom.

The last couple of days had been rough-family in the hospital, then out, then back. Job pressures, one particular niggling mistake at work that had cost her time and the company money, there were hurt feelings from another quarter because of a forgotten party invitation. One thing after another. The pressure had been building for a bit and now, so when she decided this was to be the relief, I wondered if it might be too late.

She was almost in tears asking for it. The veins on her neck pulsed slightly and, as we talked, her eyes filled. She ran her hands through her hair pulling it straight back, the key being pulling. A tear broke free of her right eye and etched a path down her cheek. We were both in odd places-she asking and me trying to negotiate a way out for her. “Do you want to take a run?” I asked wondering if I was enjoying this-holding back a bit. Having her ask again. “No, I don’t want to run. I want you to spank me! Jesus-Of course I’d do it.

We went upstairs and steered clear of our bedroom as we both knew this wasn’t going to be one of those spankings that led to sex. Or at least, I didn’t think so. Hard to judge, though since I’m a guy who thinks anything from having your car fixed to making scrambled eggs leads to sex. At any rate we opted for the spare room overlooking the garden where the afternoon light was golden and soft coming through the tree.

I sat on the end of the bed where I would typically undress her as she stood before me running her hands through by hair. There was none of that, though. She undressed as she would at the gym-efficiently and quickly. Shorts first, then underpants dropped to the floor.

“Take off your shirt too”, I said wanting to add something to the proceedings. “I want you completely naked.” She did as she was told and, never losing that pulled, drawn look, lowered herself without any prompting over my lap. I let her settle in and gave her a pillow for under her belly and we began.

I began at a moderate pace and force watching pink handprints overlap and meld into splotches. As she gave no reaction other than a small gasps or hisses, I picked up the pace. “Smacks” became “whaps” and my hand started to tingle. I extended my palette down the top of her legs before getting any reaction. I paused and shook my hand out. Clenching and flexing.

“Is this helping?”

“Keep going”, she said in a clear voice.

I pulled her closer as she had squirmed and slid a little in the last few minutes. One can only be so stoic. With my left arm draped over the small of her back and circling her hip I let fly with another 20 smacks in succession-which is the number she expected and would take her over 100 for this spanking. I landed flush on both cheeks, on the sit spots left and right then five resounding slaps to the middle of her bottom which echoed up the valley of her cheeks and brought a little gasp.

“Now?”

She sighed and turned her head slightly toward me. “It’s nothing but a painful distraction. Maybe I should have gone for a run.”

I crossed my arms over her very warm rear. “You have to bring more than your bum to a spanking, kid. If you want it to work for you.”

“I kind of count on you to know exactly what I want and wen I want it.” There was a lightness in her voice that wasn’t there a while ago. Progress.

“OK, I’m supposed to be a mind reader-I get it.” I raised my right hand as high as I could and delivered the hardest swat of the session to the meat of her pink right cheek.

“Owwww!!!”

“I figured you were numb by now.”

“That one got through.”

Hand-spanking this woman reached a point of diminishing returns somewhere north of a hundred slaps. I had left my hand on her cheek where it landed and squeezed gently. “Come on, get up from there.”

She rose quickly; clear-eyed and flush. “Wow”, she said drawing it out as she gasped her butt with both hands. “That is some heat.”

“Nothing but a painful distraction, right?”

“Don’t worry about it. Some days you got it, some days you don’t.” There was a tease there-a little challenge. Another tone I wouldn’t have heard twenty minutes before. More progress.

She took my rising as a signal to get dressed and picked her shorts and underwear off the floor.

“Uh-uh”, I said. “You won’t need them just yet.”

“What? Why?” she asked frozen in mid stoop. I didn’t answer, just turned and headed out the door. “What do you have in mind?”

“Just some mind reading”, I answered as I turned and headed out the door. “Stay”, I ordered.

I smiled when I noticed not only had she stayed, but hadn’t moved in the few scant moments that it took me to go down to our bedroom closet. She was still watching the door holding her clothes when I came back into the room carrying the cane.

“Hey-I’m good. Really. This was fine…” She sputtered backing against the wall as if to shield her backside. She felt the need to repeat since I didn’t answer. “I’m fine now…”

“Get over here”, I said firmly tapping the empty desk top.

She dropped her shorts and moved grudgingly away from the wall toward me. “I hate the cane!” she pouted.

“I know”, that’s why I’m only giving you twelve.”

“TWELVE?” She was standing in front of me, one hand still absently cupping her warm bottom, unsure what direction to take.

“Sixteen”, I said. “Want to try for twenty?”

She made a show of clamping her lips closed and stepped into me close enough that when I next spoke she could feel my breath.  “These are really going to hurt, you know.”

“Promise?” she said huskily, grabbing my crotch with a firm hand.

“Promise.”

Turning sharply displaying her well-spanked pink cheeks she took a wide stance. She bent slowly and suggestively over the desk until her breasts flattened against the cool oak surface. A small arch of the back presented all of her to me. I laid the cane gently across her cheeks and patted, knowing her jaw was set and eye lids clenched tightly.

I swung hard.

 

The Intervention

Geri Potts slowed as she crested Flagstaff Hill to bring her heart rate down a bit. She felt good-her legs springing from stride to stride and her head was crystal clear. Out of the trees the morning sun warmed her back and filled the campus below with a soft golden glow. It had been awhile since mornings were something she enjoyed.

There were more people on the top path so she settled into her pace and stayed to the right of center feeling the crunch of the gravel beneath her feet. She felt someone just behind her and scooched a little further right to give them more room to pass. The heavy footfalls, definitely a guy, gained on her but didn’t pass-just lingered at her left shoulder.

“I assume those are consensual”, he said easily through shallow breaths.

It was Richard Stiffie. Or Rick, Rich, Richie, but definitely never Dick. For obvious reasons. Richard was the first guy who had tried to date her when she hit campus three years ago. He was a great guy but that “guy” thing was the killer for her. When he realized it was a gender battle he could never win he settled-unhappily at first-into the role of BSGF-Best Straight Guy Friend. It was a job that had grown on him and it wasn’t an easy one.

“Yes Richard, totally consensual. Good Morning by the way.”

His comment had taken her by surprise. She had run in longer sweats and tights for the last couple of days but this morning had been so beautiful, the air so crisp, she said, “Fuck it” and went with the red shorts.

He settled in beside her matching step for step. Not easy-she was a gazelle, he was a plow horse. “Haven’t heard from you in a while, Piggy”, he said using the nickname that only he knew. It was true, between her sorority duties, spring track, finishing up the term and all the other shit…

“My time has been crushed….”

“Yeah, texting ‘Hi’ would really take a bite out of your day.”

She reached over and punched him in the shoulder without breaking stride. “Don’t get all cunty on me Richard”, she said.

They ran along in silence. She regretted not staying with the capris for a couple more days. She spoke when the silence became uncomfortable.

“I’m okay Richie. Don’t think I’m insane or anything.” Nothing. Just his breathing. “I haven’t had a drink in almost a week.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, right?”

She began to quicken her pace to run away from the conversation more than from Richie. He held out his fist and she bumped it once before she started to put space between them.

“Call me if you need me…” he called. She answered with a two-finger wave.

He fell back and watched her spring off-pony tail swinging through the hole in the back of her hat-arms pumping in perfect synchronization and below the red shorts that tightly clung to her sculpted ass six dark stripes traversed the backs of her thighs.

They were perfectly drawn as if measured and calibrated-each with a flowery burst at the end. They were a blurred purple, faded-a few days old-and he wondered what they had looked like in their glory. Or what the shorts were hiding.

As she shrunk in the distance and disappeared into the stand of sycamores Richard turned toward the gym, torn between the desire for a hot coffee he’d had earlier and the cold shower he needed now.

“Damn, Piggy…” he thought.

A Walk in the Woods

A Walk in the Woods

I caught up with her on a flat switch-back before the trail stretched up over the top of the hill. She wasn’t even breathing heavy when I got there but it would take me a few moments to recover before we continued on. It was warming up a tad and I could feel it. A series of unforeseen events that morning had brought us to the trail later than we had planned.

The first had been her waking up on her belly with the sheet draped across her thighs. I couldn’t help myself. Awakening slowly she writhed gently to the first touches between her cheeks then yelped and rolled over when I bit her full on the left cheek. After a few kisses she play-struggled when I wrestled her back to her belly which was my excuse to pin her down and use the bedside paddle (doesn’t everyone have one?) for a quick few swats which turned into a few more back and forth which then turned into a long, luxurious Saturday morning coupling.

So yes, we were late hitting the trail but it was still well before noon. The morning’s sex-buzz wasn’t entirely gone and watching her bottom on the trail before she completely outpaced me kept it smoldering. Standing on the flat my eyes scanned the saplings on the uphill side. An idea was born. She followed my eyes but didn’t see what I did.

“What?” she asked.

“You know, I think you could use a good switching.”

“You really think so?” She asked in a faux stick-out-your-bottom-lip petulance.

“I’m pretty sure of it.”

“I do try to be good…”

“I know you do girl. We just have to keep working at it…”

Her eyes washed over the area. “Hmmmm”, she said thoughtfully. Then, “What must I do?” she asked quietly but precisely.

“Here”, I took her by the arm and led her to the edge of the trail. “Face the tree…”

She did and I patted her bottom; firm through her jeans. “These will have to come down.”

“Really, Sir? I’ll be embarrassed…” She looked at me over her shoulder and even in the shadows of the trees I could see the tiny smile playing at the corner of her mouth and the color rising in her cheeks.

“I’m afraid so, Miss…” I stood back to watch her unbelt, unsnap and wriggle them down. She stood for a moment running her hands up the backs of her legs then over the black briefs which sheathed her bottom before slipping her thumbs into the elastic and slipping them down. Her bum was still a tiny bit pink from the paddle that morning.

She stood, a picture of docile submission, as I arranged myself in the front so I could walk over to the saplings. I wanted the right combination of stout and whippy-at least I thought so. Not much of a switch guy, but how hard could it be? My trusty Leatherman shook in my hands as I cut a couple of likely looking branches.

With three in hand I stepped beside her and patted her lightly. “Stick it out a little for me.”

She did and I took measure as best I could then flicked with my wrist hearing it swipe high across her bottom. She didn’t react immediately then looked up into the trees as if bored. “Was that the wind? I thought I felt a breeze.” She said.

“Cute”, I said stepping back to get more swing. “Here’s number two.”

The switch cut the air and landed full across both cheeks wrapping around to nip at her right hip. She didn’t move.

“Nothing?” I asked.

“That was a little better. You’re getting there. Maybe by nightfall you’ll get the hang of it.”

I grumpily tossed the switch away and picked up another. She’s a bit of a caniac so I needn’t have been so careful. The second stick felt better in my hand and really whipped when I cut the air to loosen my arm. She heard it too and gripped the tree tighter.

The switch whistled through the sun dappled air and bisected her bottom perfectly, raising the bloom of a tiny strawberry in the middle of her right cheek. She hissed between her teeth and lifted her eyes skyward.

“There it is”, she sighed lushly and thrust her target backward.

I was too busy admiring my handiwork and preparing for the next stroke to hear the voices coming down the trail from above. I froze as they got louder and looked up but couldn’t see anyone yet. In the instant it took me to look back to my wife, her pants were up and she was zipping feverishly as she jogged back the way we came trailing peals of laughter behind.

Damn! I reluctantly tossed the switch aside and hobbled after her-my third leg hindering a clean escape.

 

Special Delivery

Canes

To say that my wife is a “shopper” is a bit of an understatement. Like saying Donald Trump has an ego. If shopping were an Olympic sport, she might not medal consistently but she would definitely make the team. She excels in internet commerce and daily-since I work at home-I am greeting the UPS driver or the postman and bringing boxes large and small into the house. I set them aside and when the Love comes home, she spirits them away, never to be seen again. Unless it’s a scarf or sweater she wants to show off right away. This shipment was different though-it came when I was out of town and upon my return I found these leaning against the wall in my office. I’ll point out that she positively hates the cane. Receiving it at least. Hmmm…

Liz Needs a Soak

Follows “The Boys Like It!”

Liz drove languidly toward home after her session with the boys. A day smoldering in sexual heat-from Angie, to the woods, to Bobby in the house-with no release had left her curiously spent but edgy. Truth is, she was in no hurry to go home or to be by herself. She passed the exit that would have taken her that way and headed toward the south side of town. She pressed a number on her dashboard display.

John’s phone burst into the opening bars of Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way”. His headlamp swept the rafters in front of him as he reached into the back pocket of his jeans. “Hey, you”, he said into the speaker.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“Up on Troy Hill”, he answered stopping his lamp sweep at a pile of something that looked to be raccoon shit. He hated raccoons and raccoon shit. He had walked away from properties based solely on the amount of raccoon shit in the attic. “I’m looking at a place that’s coming up for Sheriff’s sale…”

“Oh”, she said, not meaning to sound like a disappointed little girl.

“Why, what’s up?”

“I need a good soak.”

“Long day?”

“You could say that…” It was midafternoon but the day had turned cloudy and gray so it felt later than it was. She had slipped off of the parkway and was starting down the mixed residential and commercial streets of the South Side toward John’s place.

“Go ahead over…” he said. “I’ll kill the alarms from here.”

She navigated the narrow streets heading up toward a rise that overlooked the neighborhood and, across the river, the city. “You know”, she said smiling, “It’s not just a soak that I need.”

“Uh huh…” said John interrupting his square foot calculations and the cost of insulation. “I’m almost done here-I’ll finish up and be there.”

“OK, but hurry”.

Now he smiled in the darkness and felt a stirring in this crotch. “Don’t start without me.”

She pressed the disconnect button on the dash and made a left down Sarah. The buildings here were all over a hundred years old built to house and service the steelworkers that had immigrated here from all over Europe. The neighborhood never really “gentrified” and was comfortably industrial chic.

John’s place had once been a service station and a horse livery before that so it was unique in the congested neighborhood that it had off-street parking for two cars. Liz always felt like she was sneaking into the Bat Cave when she hit the automatic opener on her visor because the doors were disguised to look like a concrete wall. She slipped her car comfortably into the right side bay.

She stepped lightly up the metal spiral staircase and through the thick wooden sliding door that had been reclaimed from a butchers’ freezer. Counterweighted, the door slipped closed behind her as she turned to the right and slipped into the dim kitchen. She was fine with the gray glow from the skylight as the wine cooler built into the wall had its’ own lighting that came on when the door opened. She chose her favorite crisp chardonnay and opened it at the counter and placing it into an ice bucket. Then, bucket and glass in hand, she headed to the front of the house-to what she considered the heart of the small space.

Though she was with John every step of the way during the design and the remodel of his place-even sitting in the tub with him to make sure the two fit perfectly-it was, with the exposed metal, ceramic and concrete work, a man’s house through and through. That profile manifested perfectly in the master bath.

The room was tiled completely along the floor and three walls to the ceiling. The openness of the space was emphasized by the shower in one corner with no door or curtain of any kind and to the right of the door was the two-person soaking tub built embedded three stone steps up into a concrete counter that John had fabricated on site.

She turned the water on in the tub and let it fill a little before throwing in some salts. Then, facing the windows and the neighborhood beyond, she began to strip off her clothes. She wasn’t as free in this room right after John had installed the floor to ceiling windows. Knowing it was two-way glass and feeling comfortable disrobing, showering or anything else they did in here in front of two way glass is another. She had to experiment herself from outside with John in the shower before she gave in.

She slipped off her jeans for the second time today and lay them over the redwood shower chair. She followed with her bra, then finally, her panties which had been wet at least twice today. She rubbed her hands over her breasts then down her thighs-not trusting herself to touch between her legs. How the hell long would John be? Did he say?

She padded up the steps and sat on the edge of the tub dangling her feet and sipping her wine and the water tumbled in and the steam rose. She was trying to decide how much to tell John about her afternoon. It had been about an hour and a half after she left the boys up on the hill before she stepped onto their porch and knocked-realizing the doorbell didn’t work. The house was a small ranch in the state of disrepair you could expect given that it had been given over to student housing.

She had carried a bag over her shoulder that Frankie eyed curiously when he let her in. He looked even younger than he had up on the hill but she quickly realized that he had shaved. And showered. In fact, the whole house smelled of soap shampoo with only traces of sweet cologne or body spray. As she stepped through the door she had a “what am I doing here?” moment that evaporated completely in the light of Frankie’s smile. She returned the smile of the initiated and asked conspiratorially, “Where’s our boy?”

“Right this way”, he bowed his head slightly and waved his arm through the entrance hallway into the living room. The switches that they had brought off the hill were laid out precisely on a low table against the wall. The room was sparsely furnished-an overstuffed chair and couch. Bob came into the room from the other direction looking scrubbed and pink in a T-shirt and jeans. “I see you found the place”, he jabbered going for nonchalance. “Oh yes-it was easy.” Being in their house offered her some options that she didn’t have on the hill. “Why are you dressed?” she said in a tone that didn’t invite an answer. “Take everything off”, she ordered.

“Everything?”

“Do you want to argue with me?”

As he quickly slipped his T-shirt over his head she cut a quick glance to Frank and winked. His eyes smiled back wickedly. She would find out later what sport Bob played. He was well-muscled but not thickly so and perfectly proportioned. She was betting wrestling rather than football. No matter, she thought as he slipped his jeans off and kicked them aside. This is a body that many girls have wrapped themselves around who had no idea what it was in for now.

“Very nice”, she stepped closely appraising every inch but touching nothing. He kept his gaze downward and she followed it to his growing erection. “Turn around.” He did and she softly caressed the back of his shoulder startling him.

“Easy”, she cooed as if to a skittish colt. “Here. Step over to the chair.” She slipped her hand to the small of his back directing him. “Now over”, she push gently. The chair back was low enough so that both hands rested on the seat and his now-bulging cock wasn’t crushed against his belly. He was breathing quickly. “Easy”, she said again-stroking his back then down over his thick cheeks. “Here”, she said sliding her hand between his legs, “Spread for me a little.”

He did and jumped as she reached between and cupped his balls lightly. Then his knees buckled slightly as she ran her finger up his crack to tickle at his tight little button. “You have got to settle, boy. You are much too jumpy…” she said while continuing to rub his anus lightly. She was pretty sure that was the first time for that.

“OK-alright”, he gasped lightly.

“Alrighty then.” Like a surgeon she held out her hand and Frankie handed her a switch. She cut the air once and watched him come up onto this toes. “Be ready”, she said. “But don’t tense.”

She brought the switch back and stroked across this cheeks. “Owwwww!” he howled jumping straight up into the air. “That…FUCK! That hurt!”

“Of course it hurt, Boyo. I’m caning your bare ass-it’s going to hurt.”

“I didn’t think it would burn like that. OW!”

“Welcome to Frank’s world-Huh, Frank?”

He bent back over and she stroked him again-about the same strength-about the same place. Again he yelled and jumped up. But then gathered himself and got back into position.

“It’s in your mind, Bob. You know what it feels like now. Just take a breath and let it out. You know what’s coming-I’m going to give you ten more like that before we move onto anything else. You just have to take them. OK?”

“OK”, he gritted his teeth. She watched his bottom rise and fall as he breathed. She stroked again. Again, he yelped and jumped straight up.

“I’m sorry!” he pleaded, kneading his butt. “I’ll take them-however many. …it just hurts. Don’t get mad. Here.” He bent again offering his bottom that wore three distinct pink stripes. She stroked again, this time a little lighter but more than a kiss. “Owww!” He jumped up again and rubbed with his right hand where the tip had dug in a bit.  “Sorry-Sorry…Damn, that burns. Sorry.” Yet, he bent over again.

Most of the people she got into this position knew what was coming. They already understood the bargain. To get where they wanted to go required some fleeting, but at times intense, pain. The pain opened the door to the dark pleasures they were ultimately seeking but the pain was part of what they signed up for. What they needed. Bob was still trying to figure that out. Her heart went out to him and she wanted to do what she could to help him through his first bottoming.

She turned off the water and hit the switch that would keep the tub warm. Thinking of Bob taking the strokes, one after another and begging for more of what he needed but might not want, started to heat her up again-as it had back in the boy’s living room. She slipped slowly into the water and sighed as she lay her head back on a folded towel. She allowed her hands to slide down her stomach tickling at the well-coiffed bush below. “Don’t start without me…” John’s voice echoed in her head.

She yanked her hand away and reached for her wine as the garage door rumbled open below her.

To be continued…

Mt. Ashby Academy – The Chancellor

Girl's Boarding School

Girl’s Boarding School

Continued from Mt. Ashby Academy – Part 3

Alex Tao stood frozen looking at the doorknob just out of reach. All she had to do was take a step, turn it and leave the Chancellor and his cane behind. The chill in her belly blossomed and spread up and down…

She spoke through clenched teeth. “What do I have to do?”

“Do you want me to bring Marianne in?”

She shook her head.

“Well, you know the drill, don’t you? You can hang your blazer over the back of the chair there.”

She kept her eyes down as she doffed the jacket-not so much out of embarrassment but to conceal the burning anger that she feared would burn out of her eyes. She had put herself in this position, she knew. She had given him the upper hand. Dammit! It would be so wrong for Colleen to have to deal with this…better to just get it over with.

“The desk”, he said almost impatiently tapping the cane on the wide polished walnut top that seemed to extend forever. Stepping into place she remembered miserably the bruises that were fading but still visible on her backside. Nothing to do about it now but she wasn’t giving it up easily. She stood silently with her back to him and began to lower herself into place.

“Uh-uh”, he said. “Slacks please.”

“I just thought…”

“You thought wrong. This will be on the bare-just the way you and Colleen deliver them.”

Without any outward emotion she unsnapped her slacks and pushed them down over her hips to slip to the floor. Not wanting to wait to be told-nor having him do it himself-she slipped her thumbs into the elastic of her panties and pushed them down as well. They didn’t go as easily, rolling across her cheeks and catching at the bottom but finally sliding down her legs.

She felt the gooseflesh rise on her nakedness as she stood facing the desk.

“Well, well”, he said eyeing the faint bruises on her bottom. “I see the rumors are true.”

“What rumors?” she asked without turning around.

“Come on, Alex. This is a small campus…But whatever. You and ‘your secretary’ are consenting adults-whatever you do is officially fine as long as it doesn’t impact Mt. Ashby.”

The hot coal of anger that had burned in her chest broke a bit and settled miserably into her belly and then, further down. Her mind swam back to times when she and Colleen might have been overheard…maybe when she might have been seen coming to her home. Nothing wrong in that…not in that alone…God, how could she have been so careless?

“Bend, please”, the chancellor’s voice interrupted her tortured reverie.

She focused on the surface of the desk as she lowered herself slowly. She knew that even with her legs together, her cheeks spread to give him more of a view than she would have wanted. She stopped when her palms and elbows were on the desk and focused on a dark brown whorl in the grain right below her nose and waited. She felt him positioning behind her then a quick swishing sound.

The first slash bit deeply into the sweet spot at the bottom of her cheeks leaving a harsh red weal in its wake. “Very nice”, he said, admiring her stoicism. There were two more before she revealed anything and then it was only a sharp gasp.

“No need to be the strong soldier”, he said brightly. “Marianne knows what’s going on in here. You can cry out if you’d like…”

“I’m fine”, she gritted through her teeth.

“OK, just don’t bite your lip off or anything silly like that”.

His next cut was the hardest, searing her exactly across the middle of her bottom.

“Owww…” she whispered almost whimpering. Her eyes stung with the realization that she would not be able to hold back. The last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of this bastard but she felt the tears welling. Two more strokes dug into the bottom of her right cheek and she coughed and rose on her toes unhappily exposing herself.

Once she settled back onto her heels she yelped as two more struck soundly across the top of his target then another along the bottom. She was ready to burst into tears when he paused and she felt his hand-his fingers really-stroking along the welts on her tight backside.

Funny. He had made her strip and bend over his desk. He had whipped her with a cane. He had looked deeply into her asshole and happily let his gaze wander over the spread lips of her womanhood has she writhed across his desk, but she didn’t feel violated until his hand touched the suffering skin of her bottom.

“Wallace”, she said firmly turning to look over her shoulder.

“What?” he said huskily, pulling his hand back quickly as if bitten. “I was just checking this…”

“Never mind”, she said turning her head back facing front. “Just finish what you were doing.” The tears that were in her eyes fell unbidden onto the desk surface, but there would be no more. The anger bloomed back into her chest burning away any tears.

She reacted not at all to two more rather perfunctory strokes that landed high then he said, “That’s enough.”

Alex stood stiffly feeling the ripples across her bottom move and tighten. Now it was her turn to do the awkward bend and straighten shuffle of pulling up her slacks and underwear. The exercise was made that much more difficult because her panties had rolled themselves inside out when she took them down. She had to stand half bent, legs apart straightening them under the unceasing gaze of the chancellor watching every move she made.

“Oh no-of course. Go forth and sin no more.” He smirked.

Again, she was just at the door when he said, “Would you have Colleen report to me tomorrow morning?”

The icy fingers gripped her again. “Colleen? Why?”

He was finally laying the cane aside; placing it across his desk-not away.

“I just want to have a conversation with her…get to know her a little better. She is of course, about to be granted tenure, correct?”

Alex opted out of speaking fearing her tone might reveal something. She didn’t know what exactly but this was one of those times when silence seemed the best course. She turned the knob and stepped into the outer office. “I’ll expect her here at 8:30. Sharp!” She closed the door on him and was passing Marianne’s desk when the older woman handed her a tissue. Her eyes had a clouded look to them that Alex had never seen.

“We’ve got to do something about him.” Alex said simply.

Marianne simply nodded.

Across town, in the big green house, Camilla was working her hips against her brothers probing fingers which he worked both inside of her and along the outside of her vulva. “Please”, she gasped, “Do it Phillip.”

He had already slipped his shoes off and, at her command, quickly slipped out of his pants and underwear in one practiced movement. He spread her legs wider as he knelt between them and stroked both oily striped cheeks of her bottom before grabbing her hips and pulling her backward as he thrust forward. He entered her wet pussy deeply and easily as she moaned loudly.

Mt. Ashby Academy – Part 3

Continued from The Twins

Camilla still hadn’t said a word as she walked up the steps and unlocked the apartment. And as he had a number of times since leaving Alex’s office, Phillip bringing up the rear forlornly, tried to engage his sister at least to apologize. Again he was silently rebuffed as she walked through the living room, down the hall and into her room closing the door behind her.

Alex stepped through the door to the Chancellor’s Office and greeted Marianne, Wallace Foster’s secretary. A handsome woman in her fifties she was married to a Spanish professor on campus and had put two boys through Mr. Ashby. She had a warm smile and seemed proud of her well-earned salt and pepper hair which she never darkened but kept in a rather youthful cut around her face.

“Hello Alex, nice to see you,” she smiled rising and extending a hand.

Alex shook gingerly. Marianne was tall and strapping given to long hikes over the mountain trails and long laps in the university pool.

“Is he available?” Alex asked, nodding toward the closed door.

“He’s on the phone right now”, she widened her eyes in comical emphasis, “Benefactors, you know”, and smiled. “Have a seat, he should be off in a moment.”

Phillip knocked softly at his sister’s door. “Cammie? Cammie? Can I come in?”

Camilla was face down on the bed dry-eyed and fully clothed. Her bottom felt tight and hot encased like two little sausages in her snug panties. “Cam?” She knew she had to eventually let him in or he would paw pitifully at the door all afternoon. But she let him knock a little longer before she gave a muffled “Come in…” into the pillow.

The door opened and he crossed the floor mercifully silently and sat on the bed. He patted the back of her leg down by her knee-well away from the affected area. “I won’t apologize again. You know how sorry I am…Cam, I just couldn’t let her…”

“Enough, Phillip. I know. Don’t apologize anymore. My fault. I dealt with it.”

He sighed loudly. “Thank you. You can’t imagine how it felt watching you…”

“Spare me.” She said.

Yes, probably bad form telling her how much it hurt him watching her take his strokes. After a moment he pulled at loose corduroys. “You should at least get these off. Your bum still has to hurt. Let me rub some lotion on you. Make you feel a little bit better anyway.” There was no response and her steady breathing almost convinced her brother she was sleeping until she said, “Take my shoes off….”

He slipped her loafers off one at a time and dropped them to the floor. She rolled onto her hip so he could undo her belt and pants and for the second time in the last hour they came down, pulled all the way off from the bottom. In the sunlight beaming through the blinds Phillip could see the welts and bruises from the cane below her sheer panties as well as through them.

She lifted slightly so he could gently roll them down and off. It did feel better having the cool air caress her skin. “Poor Cammie”, he whispered rubbing the back of her thigh.

“Lotion is on the dresser. In the green bottle.”

He knew the bottle. It was aloe and Vitamin E mostly-very soothing on sunburns and any other such burn or….abrasion. He sat back on the bed and squeezed some onto his fingers which he applied gently to the welt that crossed the exact center of her bottom. She sighed gently and raised her bottom ever so slightly so that he would have easy access to the burns where her cheeks met her legs. Her eyes stung a little at the relief.

“You mean he let her take his caning too? He just stood for that?”

“Yep. She took all twenty.”

“What a little shit he is…I figured that.”

Wallace Foster was tallish without being actually tall. His rangy build and long arms made him look taller. Shoulders and chest were overly large and rounded-evidence of too much time in the weight room for a guy his age but who was she to judge how someone stays in shape. He wore his thick dark hair short on the sides with a razor sharp part on the left. Nothing fell onto his forehead.

His nervous energy made it seem as if he was always chewing gum or snapping his fingers through he did neither. It was a constant internal fidget that manifested in rubbing his fingers together or waving his hands.

“Did you really bring it? Was it a good punishment?”

“Very adequate. Truthfully, I did let up in the end a bit. I might have gone harder for a few strokes just to shame him.”

“Good luck with that.”

“What’s with them, anyway?”

“Oh, don’t know…not drugs or anything nefarious. I think they took off to Italy before last term with the money earmarked for school. Thought it would be easier to put us off than to let their parents know. I’m thinking we disabused them of that notion.”

“They are coming to see you about a payment plan.”

He waved his arm, dismissing the subject. “Of course. It will be taken care of. But you, Ms. Tao…”

“Ms. Tao?” thought Alex as alarm bells began to go off in her head.

“It was you who delivered the caning, correct? You. Alex Tao.”

“Of course”, she said firmly betraying nothing.

“Not your secretary, Colleen, then?”

”No. It was me. Why?”

“You realize that we have a trust here, at Mt. Ashby. Not a sacred trust necessarily, but a trust nonetheless. A trust with the student body, with the parents who send their precious little shits here, with each other to do things a particular way. You’ve been here long enough to know that.”

“Yes, I know that. I don’t see…”

“Having your secretary, or anyone who is not a faculty member nor tenured staff member carry out punishments would be a betrayal of that trust.”

Alex bit her lip to avoid saying anything.

Foster stepped out from behind his desk and moved to the window, speaking to the view beyond. “I’m not going to embarrass us both by asking the question that we both know the answer to so I’ll ask instead how many canings did your secretary participate in?”

“Well…she’s been a witness to….”

“I’m not talking about witnessing. I’m talking about swinging the cane. How many?”

Alex pretended to have to think for a moment, then said “Six.”

“Six.”

“Always under my supervision. I was there. It was under my supervision and direction. You know I was…incapacitated…” she raised her arm weakly though Foster wasn’t looking.

“You were OK today.”

“Things heal. It’s taken awhile…”

The silence between them ticked off until he finally said, “This could have been serious. If anyone would have complained or raised an issue, we all could have been in a bit of a jam. You exposed us pretty severely.”

“Look, my understanding was that..”

“Your understanding was wrong.” He bit the words off severely. He turned to face her. “What I have to do now, what we have to do is going to be good for Colleen but…We’re going to have to fake a special board session later this week to grant her tenure. About three years too early but we can make the paperwork look like she’s had tenure all along. A special circumstance.” He then continued as if to himself as he paced around the room…”Not exactly the Mt. Ashby way, but you’ve put us in a spot here…”

Alex had a chill radiating from her stomach. She had never thought this would turn into a….thing. She still didn’t think so, but if the Chancellor was this put out by it, she might have misread the situation. She would have to go back and scour the bylaws and handbooks to see if…She froze when she heard the closet open behind her. There was only one reason for him to be going into his closet. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed her fear-Foster was taking a cane off the hook inside the door.

She shot to her feet. “Wallace! There is no way you are going to cane me!”

“Alex”, he said closing the door behind him. “As I said, you’ve put us in a spot. You could have come to me about….” He waved the cane toward her arm…”your incapacity-but you chose not to. You chose to do it your own way-as if you had no superiors here to report to…or confide in.”

“Look. I’m sorry but I’m sure we can figure…”

“I already have figured. And it wasn’t just me. Unlike you I opened the situation to other staff and faculty to discuss and we found our way out of it. We will fix this. This mess that you made. This”, he flicked the cane in the air, “isn’t about fixing the problem. It’s about punishing the person who caused it.”

She tried to control her voice-to modulate the rising waves of…what? Fear? Embarrassment? “We’re peers. I’m in a tenured position here.”

“That’s true-but the bylaws of the institution allow for corporal punishment among peers.”

“But I would have to consent.”

“That’s right, you would.”

“And I certainly do not!”

“I see…”

“I don’t think this is as serious a breach as you do and I think given some time to investigate…”

The Chancellor placed the cane on his desk and went back to the window, dismissing her words with a wave of his hand. “Been done-we know the course we are taking. If you are not going to accept your caning-as is your right-you are free to go.”

She stopped trying to speak. That was it? “Alright then. I’ll go…I’m sorry for this Foster. I really am. I just didn’t think.”

“No problem”, he said to the mountains out the window. “Go about your day…nice job with the twins. Thanks for that.”

“OK, fine. Thank you.” She was almost to the door when he asked, without turning around. “Send your secretary Colleen over would you?”

She froze. “Colleen? Why?”

He thought of Colleen. He didn’t really know her-just had seen her around campus-big smile, long coltish legs…”Somebody has to pay for this breach of protocol. You, as is your right, have passed. Your secretary though was a willing participant…”

“She only did what I told her to do!”

“That’s clear. You misguided her. But she will have to pay for it since she doesn’t have tenure yet.  Doesn’t seem fair does it?”

Camilla had begun to cry softly has Phillip gently applied the lotion to her hot bottom. She wasn’t crying against the pain, which had begun to subside but out of relief that the whole affair was now over. She was grateful for the attention her brother was giving her and that she could count on him to be by her side…for most things anyway.

She spread her legs slightly to allow his soothing fingers to get a little deeper between her cheeks. “Don’t”, she said softly as they probed directly between her legs where no cane had bitten. “Shhh…” he whispered gently as she raised up slightly and he extended further….

To be continued…

Mt. Ashby Academy-The Twins

Lifted from Pentych's awesome Tumblr Blog

Lifted from Pentych’s awesome Tumblr Blog

Fresh out of the shower and alone in the locker room, Alex Tao twisted to look over her shoulder into the mirror. She had given up ever being entirely happy with the size of her bottom but she did like it better dusted and crisscrossed with the light blue bruises that Colleen left her with weekly. A couple of the darker ones were fading to an autumnal gold color signaling the time was nearing for a fresh set. The girl had learned the art of the cane quickly and Alex, in turn, was feeling more relaxed and able to focus on the tasks of running Mt. Ashby.

She dressed slowly-leisurely-knowing that her secretary would have the office open and tea made by the time she got there fresh from her morning workout and elbow rehab. Slacks today and a white silk top under a smart navy blazer that covered the elastic brace that she still wore on her elbow. She laced up her sneakers for the brisk walk across the quad and up the steps two at a time. Her mood was bright and she wore one of those goofy “just happy” smiles people wear when they were in a good mood for no real reason. Then she opened the door to her office suite and felt the smile, along with her mood, freeze then drain away.

There, in the outer office, sat the twins, Camilla on the couch and Philip on the hard backed chair. They weren’t “twins” actually more-what used to be called in less enlightened times-Irish twins; born eleven months apart sharing the same age for a few weeks. Camilla, slouching, affected the infuriating insouciant pose that held most people, including her professors, at arm’s length. Her clothes-though the most expensive and fashionable money could buy-blue corduroys and oxford cloth striped shirt and sport coat-were intentionally oversized and thrown together to give her the look of a very expensively dressed asexual ragamuffin. Her short blond hair, cut in a boyish bob, lay just over her ears, as her bangs fell across her forehead from the side part.

Philip, making a perfunctory move to rise when she entered the room, shared his sister’s slight build but was darker, more of a sandy, straw blonde than Camilla’s lighter yellow. She had probably dyed it, of course. While she was small and pretty behind the perpetual indifferent pout, his face was more pointed and feral.

“Please, Philip, sit. No need to get up”, Alex said closing the door.

Why had she said that? Of course he should have gotten up when she, any woman, entered the room. What was it about these two than forced everyone who crossed their paths to defer to them? Was it because they were rich and that the gym annex carried their grandfather’s name? A lot of people here were rich-Ashby wasn’t for everyone. Most of the bottoms she crossed with welts were attached to walking wallets whose monthly stipend exceeded Alex’s yearly salary.

“Is Colleen, my secretary, here?”

He nodded to her office door.

Colleen was in her office looking out the window. “We have guests”, Alex sarcastically whispered.

“Sorry, yes.” Colleen turned to face her boss. “I couldn’t stay out there with them any longer. They don’t talk and when you do they look at you like you’re speaking another language. I figured I’d come in here and….file.” She shrugged.

“Why are they here? Do we have any reports on them?”

“Nothing that I know of but they brought that”, she nodded at a sealed envelope on the desk. It was addressed to “Ms. Tao” and adorned with the seal of the Chancellor’s office.

“They said Mr. Foster sent them over.”

Alex opened the envelope and read the typed notice.

“Let me be, would you?” she asked Colleen, picking up the phone. Colleen left as she dialed. “Mr. Foster, please…Thank you”

While she waiting to be transferred she read the note over again. She was to cane the twins due to their ‘recalcitrant behavior as regards their financial obligations to Mt. Ashby…’

“Foster here.” His voice was hard and deep. Probably an affectation for phone conversations to make him sound older than he was. Which was a few years younger than Alex.

“Good Morning Wallace. Alex Tao…I have the twins over here…”

“Did they give you my note?”

“Yes…it’s….I thought this was the kind of punishment you would deal with in your offices.”

“Typically yes. But I’m so close to the family in all of our….dealings and the finances. I didn’t think it was especially proper, nor that I could do-adequately-what needed to be done.”

She was silently calling “Bullshit” on that one. He didn’t want to get on the wrong side of the twins.

“I see. Any guidelines for me…given your background with them?”

“No. Use your judgement. If it was me…” And it should be thought Alex, “I’d guess twenty should be right. Ten good ones each. And I mean good ones.”

“We can handle that…”

“We?”

Christ. “I mean I. I can handle that.”

“Considering the recent goings-on over in your offices I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

A chill dropped into Alex’s belly. “What goings-on would they be?” she asked?

“When you finish with the twins, come over to my office so we can discuss that, alright?”

“What did you…” she further questioned but the line was dead. He had hung up on her? What the hell?

She went into the outer office where the twins hadn’t changed their positions or postures. Colleen was busying herself with a spreadsheet on her laptop that Alex assumed was the recording of the twins’ accounts.

“You know why you are here, right?” Alex addressed them both.

Phillip leaned back in the chair. “It appears we are in some sort of arrears…”

“I should say”, said Alex. “Colleen?

“Nine months behind on payments. The sums are significant…and there has been no response to any formal or informal entreaties.”

He tossed his chin toward his sister. “She handles the disbursements. That-the money-just leaves me cold. We can go now and she will take care of it.”

“It’s my understanding that the chance to do that was extended to you many times, and it’s gone on and on. This is a significant bill that you’ve been ignoring.”

“Not ignoring really…it just…” he let his hands rise from his lap flapping his fingers…

Camilla shifted a bit and seemed to bite the inside of her cheek. Alex was already tired of this conversation. If she could have gotten them-or Camilla apparently-to pull out a checkbook and just pay the bill now she would have happily done so just to get them out of her office. But she didn’t think it was that simple. She walked into her office and out of sight but the trio left behind could hear the rattling that Colleen knew were the canes in the umbrella stand. Alex came back holding two decidedly wicked pieces of bamboo.

Philip sat bolt upright, losing the air of indifferent cool. “You are not caning me!”

“I’m afraid I am”, Alex answered. “Both of you. Those were Mr. Foster’s instructions.”

“Foster!” he snorted half under his breath. “That functionary.”

Colleen smiled into her collar behind everyone but Alex didn’t show a thing. “Be that as it may,” she said. “You are to be punished for dereliction…”

“What if we pay today?”

“That doesn’t change the last nine months.” Then, after a pause, “Can you pay today?”

He cut a quick glance at his sister who had shrunken further into her clothes and deeper into the couch. She shook her head almost imperceptibly. “Great!” Philip barked. “Great. She’s the one you should cane then. This is her doing….” He caught himself and folded slightly. “What if we refuse…”

It was simple as she laid it out. They would be expelled. With the expulsion would come an open hearing of cause, and in this case, an airing of financial dirty linen. Playing a hunch, Alex pointed out would mean that their parents would find out that they hadn’t been paying and that the money might have gone elsewhere.

Camilla spoke quietly without moving or looking up. “Can we get onto a payment plan, you think?”

Got them! Thought Alex. “Of course, I’m sure something could be worked out. That would be between you and the Chancellor though. I only have one role to play here”, she said tapping the cane almost without thinking against her own leg.

“Good”, said Phillip breathlessly. “Good-cane her then. She was the one who…”

“Oh for Christ’s sakes Phillip, would you shut up please.” She finally looked up, her cheeks flushed either in anger, frustration, embarrassment or all three. “Just shut up.” He folded back in the chair properly cowed. “What do I have to do?” Camilla looked directly at Alex, her eyes clear and fiery.

“Take off your jacket. Just leave it there. And step into my office.”

The girl had merely to straighten her arms upon rising to leave the oversized jacket behind. She slinked through the door followed by Alex and her brother who had remained in his chair until Colleen had motioned that he follow. Colleen, bringing up the rear, marveled at the girl’s outwardly calm exterior betrayed only slightly by the flush in her cheeks. Red-faced Phillip, on the other hand, seemed a nervous, fidgety wreck.

With the dynamic playing out between these two, it was a relief that Alex was apparently resuming her caning duties. Colleen was fine with the compliant students who bared and bent on demand but hadn’t been exposed to a level of tension like this. Happily it was Alex standing at her desk. “Come over here, Camilla. Stand here”, she pointed with the cane and the girl had the open view of the campus and the hills beyond in front of her. “Lower your pants.”

“Really!” said Phillip. “Is that necessa-…”

“Shut up Phillip!” his sister hissed while unbuckling her oversized belt buckle. With the weight of the belt and the size of the pants, they fell directly to the floor upon loosening. Camilla’s shirt though, untucked as it was, covered her to mid-thigh.

“Lean forward and put your hands right here”, Alex ordered tapping a spot on the desk top. As Camilla positioned herself, Alex continued. “This will have to be on the bare bottom”, she paused imperceptibly to give the brother a chance to chime in but he said nothing. “So I’ll have to do some arranging…”

With the girl bent over, Alex put the cane down and lifted her shirt tail up over her back revealing a perfectly rounded bottom peeking out from under a pair of sheer high cut panties. The panties, revealing as much cheek as they did, would offer little protection against the bamboo but rules were rules. Alex stuck her fingers into the waistband and slipped the panties down until they too fluttered into the heap at Camilla’s ankles.

Witnessing canings always made Colleen nervous-more nervous than giving them actually- so she usually brought something into the room to occupy herself. She looked up from the folder of reports when the girl’s panties came down and marveled at the rounded perfection of her pert bum. You would never know it from the baggy clothes she wore, but that was probably the point. No hiding it now though. She held her legs primly together so she showed nothing else. Colleen’s gaze settled on Phillip who had stopped his fidgeting and was seemingly mesmerized by the sight of his sister’s bare bottom. To an almost inappropriate degree. It was her imagination of course but she would almost swear she saw him lick his lips as he leaned forward slightly.

Alex began as she always did with two taps of the cane across the middle of the bottom-as much a signal to the unfortunate that she was about to start as a range finder for herself. Camilla jumped at the touch and then settled-assumedly embarrassed at the break in her cool. But Alex, as was her way, was counterintuitively gentle and understanding.

“Is this your first caning, Camilla?” she asked softly.

“Yes”, the girl answered quietly, in a small voice, all edge and attitude gone.

“OK. Relax as much as you can…pick something out of the window to concentrate on and keep your eyes there. If you feel you have to tense, tense your shoulders or grit your teeth. Make fists. It actually hurts more if you tense your bottom.” Colleen noticed the girl’s cheeks soften a bit. “You don’t have to do anything-I’m doing all the work…just maintain position and it will be over before you know it.”

There was another pat-pat-pat across the bum then Alex let fly with a strong stroke right across the middle. Camilla gasped but nothing more. One more just below the first elicited a low “MMMM!” but her posture was unchanged. The third across the crown of her bottom-right at the top of the dividing crevasse-brought a loud “OUCH!”

“You’re doing fine”, Alex coached as the three matching pink stripes practically glowed against the milky white skin. The fourth stroke landed stiffly at the bottom of the cheeks-digging deeply into the heavy flesh that settled there. Alex wasn’t being entirely truthful though. Camilla was not taking this well-it had to be tough never having been caned before then having to endure this. She sympathized, but what could be done?

“OOOWWW!” Camilla yelped and rose on her toes. Wanting to take advantage of her distracting movements, Alex delivered the fifth stroke in almost the same place. Camilla cried out again and fell back onto her heels. Phillip, in the attitude of someone watching a horror movie, leaned back covering with his legs and arms crossed his chin in his hand.

Camilla began climbing after the sixth stroke: heel-toe, heel-toe one foot, then the other, in an effort to disperse the burn that was spreading across her backside. “Ouch!” she cried and slapped the desk moving her hand for the first time. Then after the eighth she slid her hands backward and pushed her bottom out almost lewdly-again trying to gain some respite from the sting. Alex waited for a moment for her to recover and delivered strokes nine and ten hard across the middle. “OOOO!” Camilla wailed shortly and sagged a bit.

“Ten!” Phillip barked. “That’s ten. She’s done.” Alex looked away from the striped bottom that was heaving slightly as Camille’s breathing returned to normal. “Yes”, she said. “That’s ten. Now it’s your turn.”

“My…? No way! I already said that I wasn’t taking a caning…”

“Chancellor Foster’s instructions were clear. You were to get twenty strokes-between you. I had assumed it would be ten each. You’re sister has taken ten…Now it’s your ten.”

Phillip looked ready to jump out of his seat as he patted his jacket and fidgeted about as if looking for a set of keys. “Well, ah…I can’t…I can’t do that-have that…”

“I’ll take them”, Camilla said in a tiny voice. “I’ll take his strokes…If that’s OK.”

“Cammie, I…” Philip started to say.

“It’s OK I guess”, Alex interrupted him. “If that’s what you want. If that’s what you both want.” She glanced pointedly at Phillip who was looking at the floor. “Ten more then-your brother’s ten.”

Alex renewed the caning just as she had begun the first stroke. There was the tap-tap-tap in the middle of the already bruised bottom then a solid stroke right across center. Camilla slapped the desk with an open palm but said nothing. Two more hard strokes landed low-covering purple stripes that instantly widened. Colleen thought Alex was going harder on this ten to further shame Phillip who sat by miserably, no longer showing the evident prurient interest he had in his sister’s bum.

Camilla kept her silence through the rest of the caning though she did raise her right hand off the desk then into the air as if hailing a cab. She also chose to ignore Alex’s advice to not clench as her cheeks were hard and flat and the cleft between them a thin shoestring. That was when Alex’s compassion took over and she delivered the final two strokes as mere flicks across the top where there weren’t many stripes. Colleen saw that a light sheen of sweat had broken out on the part of the girl’s back visible below her shirt.

“That’s it”, said Alex stepping away. “That’s twenty.”

The girl’s bottom displayed a crisscross of pink and purple welts as she remained in position catching her breath. “Can I get up now?” She asked.

“Yes, you’re finished.”

Camilla straightened unfurling her shirt down in back covering her. She bent over awkwardly and pulled her panties up gently over her tight, hot skin. Then her pants. It was always uncomfortable watching them dress afterwards. There had been no evidence that Camilla had cried during the caning but when she turned from the window her cheeks glistened and a single tear splashed onto the punishment form that Colleen held out for her to sign.

She stood then, head down and submissive. “I can go now?” she asked taking the tissue that Colleen had held out.

“Yes, we’re done here…Just report back to Mr. Foster for the payment plan we talked about.”

With that, she slinked back out of the office with Phillip in tow, still not looking up from the floor. When the door to the outer office shut Alex asked, “They like together don’t they?”

“Yes-big, green Victorian on Center. They have the second floor. Why?”

“It’s going to be a quiet evening there I bet…” Then…”I have to go see The Chancellor.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know….probably to do with this” she hoped. She gave Colleen the cane. “Put this away will you and hold down the fort…I’ll be back soon.”