“All right, I don’t believe we’re getting anywhere here anymore. I think we’ll have to take this up a notch.”
“What do you mean? Please, Penelope. Don’t stop now.”
“You’re liking this too much, and I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson well enough to have earned that.” She sat back. “Let’s have you up on your feet. Come on, let’s go.” I didn’t want to get up, but I felt so under her thumb right now, I obeyed without thinking.
“Oh my, you are enjoying this, aren’t you?”
I blushed, smilled guiltily, and stepped away to make room. She rose, slapped my face again. “Hey! Who gave you permission to rub your bottom?”
I stopped immediately, and apologized. Shaking her head, she tucked a hand under my arm and marched me out and down the hallway. “We are running out of time, but I am not leaving until I’ve gotten through to you,” she said loudly, in order to be heard over the echo of her own high heels.
“Where are we going?” I asked nervously, though I was loving being led around like this, with my bottom stinging so deliciously.
“It was a mistake for me to let up on you with the hairbrush just when you were starting to get the message. We’re going to remedy that now.” She turned abruptly, dragging me into a small kitchen area. She pointed to the sink. “Fill that up with hot water, and I mean hot.”
She left without answering, leaving me standing there looking foolish. I wasn’t sure what she had in mind exactly, but I did as she commanded. When she re-entered the kitchen, I paled to see the cane in her hand.
She smiled sweetly at me. “Don’t look so surprised, RR. Did you think this was just for show?” She tested the water in the sink with a tentative finger, flinching and shaking the scalding water off. “Perfect. Now, hop up and dip those buns in for a good soak.”
I hesitated, naturally. She gave me a hard, impatient glare. “Well?”
I swallowed and hoisted myself up, perching my bum over the steaming water . I looked pleadingly at Penelope, but there was no yielding in her eyes this time. “Oh, stop fussing so. You’re already numbed down. You’ll hardly feel it.”
I touched my sore buttocks to the water. She was wrong. It HURT. I hissed through clenched teeth, trying to find resolve in those lovely green eyes and shapely legs.
“Deeper, if you please. I want those buns well poached.”
I did as I was told, whimpering softly.
“Good boy. Now just relax for a bit.”
“Please, Miss Penny, what’s the point of this?” I whined through clenched teeth.
She looked at me quizzically. “What, you don’t know? Really, Red Rump. Any good spanko knows that a wet bottom is far more sensitive. The heat opens up the pores and the moisture acts like suction when the implement strikes, forming a temporary seal that pulls at the skin, and causing it to snap painfully back into place - if the implement is withdrawn immediately after impact, that is.”
I gaped at her, more than a little aghast. “How do you know something like that?”
She batted her eyes girlishly. “I’m a spanking writer, dear. I like to research my subject matter thoroughly."
While I parboiled by bottom for her, Penelope laid the cane on the table, and proceeded to transform her persona before my eyes. She tied her hair back and removed her jacket, revealing a black waist corset over her blouse. She rolled up her sleeves and donned a pair of gloves from her jacket pocket. She was no longer the upright businesswoman, but the classic image of a female disciplinarian. Taking up the cane again, she swished it to and fro, letting me hear its unnerving song. “Whush! Don’t you just love that whippy sound?” she mused, scrunching her shoulders with delight.
Before I could answer she demonstrated her stroke on an innocent kitchen chair.
My whole body tensed as though I’d taken the blow myself. Real fear twisted a knot in my stomach. My reaction did not go unnoticed by Penelope. Those green eyes sparkled like emeralds. “This is going to be so awesome! OK, that’s enough. We'll have you out of that sink so we can get down to business, shall we?”
Now I wasn’t sure the scalding water wasn’t a preferable environment for my poor bottom. But I knew better than to hesitate. I hopped down, and my knees almost gave out under me, they were trembling so bad.
Penelope laughed, a sound like little chimes tinkling in a spring breeze. “Nervous, are we? Well, you’ve a right to be. Maybe we might get somewhere here, after all. Turn round, grab hold of the counter and bend WAY over for me.”
I gulped, my heart pounding, but forced my reluctant body to obey.
She tapped my knees lightly with the cane. “No. Don’t bend at the knees. Feet wide apart. What’s the matter? Haven’t you ever been caned before?”
“Really? But I’ll bet you’ve fantasized about it, haven’t you?"
“Many times, yes."
“Well, this should be quite the education, then.” She soaked a dish towel, and ran her cane through it. “Actually, I’m sorry we don’t have more time. Caning is an art unto its own, you know? There’s so much richness in all the little rituals and techniques….I’d really love to put you through the paces thoroughly, but as it is, you’ll just have to be satisfied with the crash course.” Shaking any excess water off her weapon, Penelope took up as wide a stance as her skirt allowed, and ran the cane up my shivering legs to rest on my tensed buttocks.
Her earlier anger had faded. She was loving this as much as I was dreading it.
“Up on your toes. Good. And make that bad little butt reach for the sky. That’s a good boy! Now we can really get to the seat of the problem.” She tapped the cane teasingly a few times, a tiny bit harder each time until she saw me wince a bit, then slowly drew the cane back. She made me wait, relishing the suspense.
“I’m not sure that I –“
The impact was so severe that it took my shocked nerve endings a moment to react. But react they did, screaming in protest. I gasped, buckling at the knees while a thin line of hornets drove their lances into my soft flesh.
Penelope waited patiently. “Yes, I know it hurts bad, dear. Take your time.”
I had no idea the cane would be so wicked. As the pain slowly receded, I straightened up, gripping the counter with white knuckles. It had hurt more than anything I’d ever felt, and we were just beginning. I looked at her through bleary eyes as she bent the cane back and forth in her hands, a look of patient, but unyielding expectancy on her face. No, Miss Penelope was not done with me yet. Come on, the voice said. You can do this. Remember, you love being punished by beautiful women…. I gritted my teeth and resumed the proper stance.
Penelope nodded. “Good boy. But aren’t you forgetting something?” I pushed up on my toes and stuck my bum out to receive her next stroke. She chuckled. “Yes, there’s that. But that’s not what I meant.”
Of course…. “That was One. Thank You, Ma’am. May I please have another?”
“Ahh, so you are familiar with some of the proper etiquette, aren’t you?”
“I’ve done a little research of my own.”
“Oh, I’ll bet.”
She rubbed the cane on my hot stinging flesh, enjoying how my legs quivered in anticipation of her next stroke. She employed the same technique as she’d done before, tapping the cane lightly, but did not slowly graduate to a hard stroke, just delivered it with a sudden unexpected force.
I twisted, a little squeal escaped my lips, but I stolidly held in place. “Two, Ma’am! Thank You!”
Her tone was casual, almost as though she were discussing the weather. “You know, you might want to let it out. It’s OK - there really is no one else around to hear us.” Her next stroke caught me low, right across the ‘sweet spot’. I gasped, but still held my tongue.
“My, you are a stubborn one…” She delivered me two more rapid, withering slices that broke my lips open. I let out a howl, and crouched, unable to keep my stance.
“That’s better! Aren’t you quite the little choir boy?”
While I squatted there, clutching at the counter against the burning lances that assaulted my flesh and my will with equal zeal, Penelope stepped closer, leaning her butt against the sink. Taking up the dish towel, she re-soaked her cane. “What’s our count, young man?”
Real tears were welling up now, blearing my up close view of those lovely curving legs only inches away. “Five, I believe, Ma’am…”
“It’s five, Ma’am. And thank you.”
She squatted down and lifted my chin. She spoke softly, even kindly, but those green eyes bore into mine. “Let me explain something to you. A proper caning has rules, strict protocols, sort of like a tai chi exercise. Both parties have to display the proper respect for the ritual. For your part, you show compliance, humility and gratitude. For my part, I’m required to demonstrate an unrelenting strictness, unmoved by pleas or pity. It’s not easy, you know – I’m not naturally a cruel person. Now I know it hurts something terrible, dear, but you do want me to punish you, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I whimpered.
She placed a hand to my face. “Now, as I’m seeing real tears, I’m willing to accept that you’re learning your lesson. I’d be willing to stop right now and give you a nice cuddle. Would you like that?”
God, yes! “Oh, Penny, that would be so wonderful…”
She let me dwell on that thought a moment, then burst my little bubble:
“But here’s the thing. A proper caning really should be delivered in portions of a dozen, or half dozen – you know, ’six of the best’ and all that sort of thing. So, like it or not, I have to give you at least one more stroke. You understand, don’t you?” She gave me one of those vixenish smiles that always turned my resistance to water.
I nodded meekly. “Yes, Ma’am.”
She kissed my forehead and rose to resume her place, waiting patiently for me to take up mine. I lifted up on my toes and pushed my welt-laced bottom up for her.
Penelope ran the cane lightly over the weals. Even that feather touch made me wince.
“I should tell you, RR, that the final stroke should also be the hardest.”
I cried out again, then crumpled to my knees, blubbering out the obligatory thanks and giving way to the sobs that the pain demanded of me.
“There’s a good boy. Let it all out for Penny.” She let me sob quietly for a few moments, while she let the sink drain. “Please assume the position again for me, RR.”
A wave of panic ran through me. More strokes? I almost protested, but thought better of it. If Miss Hasler was not yet done with me, then who was I to contest her judgment?’
Whimpering softly, I complied.
“Feet apart, please.”
Instead of laying the cane on my abused bottom, she poked it between my legs, prodding, exploring.
“Hmm. Not so aroused as before, and still willing to accept correction without question. We have managed to teach you something today, haven’t we?”
“I hope so, Ma’am.”
She laid the cane aside, and applied a lotion to my bottom that cooled the fire.
I shuddered with the sheer delight of it. Then she drew my underpants back up and patted my bottom a last time. “You can stand up now, RR. We’re done.” Instead, I fell to my knees at her feet, relief and gratitude overwhelming me.I thanked Miss Hasler sincerely for all her efforts on my behalf. She hugged me tightly. “It was a kick, wasn’t it?” she breathed in my ear, sending a shudder of gooseflesh down my back.
“Profound, to say the least.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
I’m not sure ‘enjoy’ was the right word, but despite the excruciating pain, I knew I would leap at the chance to do this again. And I even promised not to draw any more naughty spanking drawings.
She laughed. “There, there. When did I say to do that? Go ahead and draw what you like. Just be aware, young man, that you may have to face the consequences afterward….”