There’s a back-story to this one. I was a bad girl, and as such I earned a punishment. Mr CK tasked a pretty girl we’re going to be playing with soon to come up with the punishment. Her task for me was to write a piece of erotica about caning… and then read it aloud while being caned. While she watched on cam. So that’s exactly what I did.
Please enjoy the piece I wrote as part of my punishment.
I hate the cane. Hate it hate it hate it. I love pain, but the thuddy, dull kind – the vicious bite and sting of the cane is something else. That’s why it’s saved for when I’ve been really bad. I knew I was in for it when he caught me with my fingers in my knickers after being strictly ordered not to touch. However much protested – that it had only been a moment, that it was really his fault for keeping me so cruelly denied – he hauled me into the bedroom telling me I needed the disobedience beating out of me. Which brings me to now – watching him take the evil implement of pain off the hook on the door and give it a couple of test-swings.
“Get your knickers off and bend over”. I squeak. “It’s no use whimpering. Hurry up”. Damn, I wish his orders didn’t make me so wet. My body is beginning to betray me. I peel my knickers off and step out of them and bend over the bed, resting on my elbows, ass pointing up – small and vulnerable. He runs his hand over my ass.
“You know why you’re in trouble, don’t you?”
“Because I touched my cunt without permission, Sir.”
“And sluts don’t get to touch their cunts without permission, do they?”
“Five strokes, and I’m not going to go easy on you.”
He brings the cane down on my ass. I let out a squeal of pain. Fuck, it hurts! I bury my face in the bed and whimper pathetically. The second stroke lands in the exact same spot. I yelp.
“Aw. Did that hurt?” I nod furiously. “Good. That’s because it’s a punishment. Three more to go.”
The third stroke makes me scream, the sound muffled by the mattress. I hate it. I hate it so much. So why am I so wet I feel like I’m going to drip all over the floor?
The fourth stroke brings tears to my eyes, but my cunt is wetter than ever.
The fifth stroke is the hardest. The tears spill over, staining the sheet. My ass is on fire.
“Aww, are you crying?” I nod. “You’ll behave next time then, won’t you?”
Without warning, he shoves his fingers between my legs and into my cunt.
“Don’t. Fucking. Come.”
That’s when I realise the punishment is far from over.
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Image sourced through Pixabay.