A Punishment Cane is an awesome thing. That simple, 32 inch yellow notched stick, with its iconic curved handle. Somehow you have accepted that it is going to be used on your bottom, and as you stand there now, while it is being slowly flexed in front of you, you begin to question your own sanity and work through dozens of potential ways to get out of it.
But you continue to stand there, mute, and inwardly trembling with absolute fear and wild excitement. You feel sick. Your heart is pounding against the inside of chest, breathing is an effort, your skin prickles with heat and perspiration, and all he can do is drone on about why you are there, and why you deserve this punishment, and how disappointed he is in you.
You have been lucky, sort of. He has already put you face down across his knee and given you a damn good spanking. Your bottom is still warm and gently throbbing, but the time you had to spend contemplating your fate in the corner has given it a chance to recover slightly. You are lucky because that spanking has already woken and then dulled the nerve endings in your bottom, and endorphins are surging around your brain, acting as natures own pain suppressants.
The atmosphere in the room is electric, your eyes are glued to that cane. He forces you to look him in the eyes, you manage to glance at his face for a split second but that softly gleaming thing is magnetic, polished against a thousand bottoms.
A single sharp word penetrates the fog, requiring you to rewind what he just asked you. Are you ready? Swallowing is hard, and your tongue disobedient.
“Ynn..” His eyebrows raise. “Yes, S-Sir.” You give him the go-ahead signal, eventually.
He points. You move, shakily. The wood of the desk cold against your stomach as he presses you down and positions you to his satisfaction. Air wafts around your upper thighs as your skirt is raised and arranged carefully across your back. There is a sensation that the entire world is staring at your rudely proffered backside. A sudden urge to rise and get the hell out of there. But the cane is already tapping against the crown of your bottom. Too late to run now, it fixes you in position. Some final instructions about staying in position, and then a ‘swoosh‘, and a ‘snick‘ and your world explodes.
You are amazed, everything you read in Part Two happens precisely as described. And now the cane it tap-tapping again. You suddenly become aware that you aren’t breathing. Several deep breaths and some of the tension goes out of your body, but then the tapping is gone…
Each one of those six strokes is an immense test of your willpower. The pain is extreme, but somehow rising isn’t an option.
Then he is lifting you upright. You remember hearing words in the room now, but you did not take them in. He holds you tightly, and through that embrace all the gathered tension leaves you. A rest, and a gentle rub soothes you. There are reassuring words wafting around you.
And when you are told to bend over again it doesn’t matter. You can do this, you want to do this. Bare this time, you absorb the strokes and thrust yourself back to meet the next one. You are lost, floating in a dark sea of pure eroticism.