“I can see this type of punishment just won’t do. You’re one of my more stubborn cases.”
“I . . . I suppose you will be forced to use your cane?” The tremor in her voice wasn’t entirely theatrical. Wouldn’t the cane hurt?
“That’s right. Now, stand up and remove your clothing.”
“All of it, Sir?”
“All of it but your socks.”
She crawled off his lap, hating the absence of his heat. She got to her feet and opened her eyes. Suddenly the darkness was there, swallowing her.
“I’m here,” John said suddenly, his voice somewhere to the right of her. He touched her shoulder, his fingers warm and reassuring.
“I . . . I know . . . S-sir,” she managed, scrunching her eyes closed. She kicked off her boots. Fear had pierced her secure cocoon of sexual arousal, but she didn’t want to succumb to it. She wouldn’t. She shivered a moment later, standing on top of John’s coat, naked except for her socks.
“It’s cold, isn’t it?” He’d stood. His voice resounded just to her right. He brushed his body against hers.
“Yes,” she whispered, entirely focused on the feeling of the hard male heat residing behind his button fly as he pressed it lightly against her hip. She felt vulnerable, standing there naked while he was clothed. He ran his large, spread hand along her right hip and up the side of her ribs. Her nipples pulled so tight she winced. She shivered uncontrollably. It suddenly struck her how small she was in comparison to him.
“You have a very firm bottom, but you’re very tender and soft. I would prefer to use my paddle on your ass, but you’ve been so bad, I have to punish you with the cane,” he said gently.
“Do you own a paddle?” she asked impulsively, the question for John and not the punishing principal from their sex play.
“Yes.”
“Oh,” she replied breathlessly. She wanted to ask him what other types of sex toys he owned, but was distracted. He began to stroke her skin with his long cane. The well-worn leather slid erotically against her hip and then her belly. Her skin felt so sensitive beneath it. She held her breath when it rose, and he rubbed it against her nipples. She gasped raggedly and put her hand between her thighs, desperate to staunch the sharp pain of arousal that pierced her.
Somehow he recognized her intentions. He removed her hand and pulled it to the small of her back. “None of that. Not now.”
“But Sir . . . your punishment is too harsh.”
“It will be over soon enough. You will have your relief,” he soothed. She felt cloth against her wrist and recognized the texture of her scarf. He must have retrieved it at the same time he’d gotten his cane. “But in the meantime, I’m afraid we’ll have to bind these busy hands of yours.”
She panted softly while he drew back her other wrist to her lower back and tied her hands together.
“Now, bend over to receive your punishment.” He put the tip of his cane between her thighs and batted gently at one, then the other. “Spread your thighs some.”
Jennifer bent at the waist and opened her legs, feeling the cool air kiss at her wet pussy. She didn’t think she could stand the anticipation much longer. Anxious excitement, a tiny flicker of fear and potent sexual arousal created a strange brew in her blood. She thought her heart had leapt into her throat when she felt John press his black cane at the top of her thighs, just beneath her buttocks. He lifted, plumping her ass cheeks. He squeezed one buttock, then the other, before he slapped each lightly.
“As I said, you are very tender, so I’ll be careful. Tell me if it hurts too much.”
She opened her lips, but her reply was cut off by the sensation of the cane striking her bottom. She gasped. His hand was immediately there, stroking the sting, soothing it. It had shocked her a little, the sharp, focused burst of pain. But it was fading now, sending prickles of sensation through her, causing her anus to tingle and her clit to twang in arousal.
“I’m thinking this bottom is more suited to my hand for punishment,” she heard John say dryly.
“No . . . I mean . . . it did hurt a bit more than your hand, but now . . .”
“Yes?” he asked, removing his hand and replacing it with the cane. He stroked her bottom and the tops of her thighs with the leather covered wood.
“Now it tingles. I think . . . I think I might deserve another stroke, Sir,” she said cautiously.
“You bad girls always do ask for it,” he said, a smile in his voice. He caned her bottom again and she cried out at the quick pain and then the burn. His hand was immediat
ely there, his fingertips seeking out the heated skin where the cane had just struck.
“All indications are that your punishment is nearly over,” he murmured. “I think four more swats with my hand and then one final one with the cane will be all for now, but let me check the other indicators.”
“Other indicators?” she asked shakily.