Extract

 

It took a lot of will power to strip naked in this strange man's living room but, I did as he said. Half an hour later, he returned with a three-foot length of fiberglass rod cut from the middle section of the fishing pole.

I had certainly considered leaving, but to his delight, I was lying down on the upturned table. I did modify his directions slightly by taking a pillow from a chair and I had placed this under my head to protect it from a ridge of timber that projected along the edges of the table.

He told me that I looked beautiful as I lay with my legs wide apart. I could feel that my labia were widely spread and the entrance to my womb felt cool as the air played over my moist hole.

The wine bottle that he had given me was lying beside the table, it was empty.

He showed me the newly created cane and I closed my eyes and winced, but I said nothing.

I continued not to speak to him as he produced some soft rope and bound my wrists and ankles to the table legs.

Then he moved to where, with my head lying back, I could not see him. But he soon returned, and he was naked. He straddled me again and I could look up to see his anus and the rear of his scrotum fully displayed between his widely spaced legs.

I had been searching the web to find out what being caned would be like. The various reports by people who had experienced it varied a lot, but all reported on how intensely painful it would be.

So, I expected it to hurt a lot but that first stroke of the cane on the inside of my left leg was the most painful thing that I had ever experienced in my life. Even though I had resolved not to give him the satisfaction of hearing me scream, I bellowed as the terrible pain surged through my entire body. Immediately, I began gasping and struggling to free myself from the ropes. I was not in control of my body; the pain had triggered a reflex that was autonomic.

Jefferson waited for me to stop struggling and settle down.

I remembered that somebody on the web had described a stroke of the cane as being an initial sudden impact that caused the whole of your bottom and thighs to quiver violently. This was quickly followed by a severe stinging pain which lasted for a few seconds before it was replaced by a deep burning pain which was to last for days. This description was quite correct, and I was becoming acutely aware of the burning.

I knew that this burning was coming from the twin lines of red flesh that ran either side of the stroke and which was caused by capillaries which had ruptured as the blood had surged away from under the point of impact. Each stroke would create a further pair of burning lines.

'I can't do this,' I gasped. 'Untie me - I quit.'

Jefferson crouched beside me and gently stroked my hair. 'I will let you go if that is what you really want,' he said. 'But in an hour, maybe less, this will all be over, and you will be free to do get on with the rest of your life.'

I lay whimpering softly for some minutes before I whispered, 'OK get on with it.'

The next stroke was no less painful, and I reacted in much the same way. But at least I knew what to expect. He waited for my screaming to stop and to for me to settle down after that horrible stroke.

He stepped away from straddling me after the sixth stroke on my left leg and I noticed his huge erection. He had obviously enjoyed printing the six livid strokes along my thighs. I could see clearly what he had done to me since the cushion had elevated my head.

He brought a tissue to me and helped me to blow my nose and he wiped some sweat sodden strands of my hair out of my eyes. Then he kissed me and to my amazement my body responded.

The next six strokes on my right leg were every bit as painful as the first but a strange trance-like euphoria of intense emotions was gradually sweeping over my body and relaxing me. It was weird because my conscious mind was saying fight and scream but my feelings were to be passive and accepting.

I was dreamily aware of him undoing the ropes and carrying me to the settee. He didn't lie me on it as I sort of expected but he lay me over the end with my knees on the floor and my body face down on the seat. I realized that in this position my bum was perfectly positioned for the cane and my vagina was readily available for him to take me at any time.

'Aren't you going to tie me over the table?' I asked lethargically.

'We'd have to turn it back over and I don't think that you are up to that.' He replied. 'Trouble is that I can't tie your hands here, so I'll need you to promise not to try to protect your bum with your hands.'

"I won't, I promise."

He didn't rush the next part of my punishment but instead, he got me to rest up on my elbows and poured another glass of wine from a fresh bottle and helped me to drink it. He kissed me some more and played with my dangling breasts and at one point, he even put his fingers up my very wet vagina.

Despite the beautiful lethargy flooding my brain, I was in no doubt when he picked up the cane that I was about to suffer terribly all over again, when he unleashed that instrument on my proffered behind.

I wasn't wrong. The pain was horrible, and I screamed. Instinctively, I brought my hand back and covered my cheeks in a silly futile effort to protect them.

'You promised not to do that!' he admonished loudly.

'I'm sorry,' I cried. 'I didn't mean to do it.'

'I will punish you for that, hold out your hand, palm up.'

My right hand was trapped between the side of my body and the back of the settee, but my left hand was free and gingerly, I held it out as instructed.

'Close your eyes, I don't want you pulling it away when you see the cane.' He instructed.

Submissively, I complied and soon, I was sucking my sore fingers after the wicked rod had sliced into my hand and bruised each finger along the second joint.

'You'd better get used to that if you can't keep your hand from protecting your bum. I can probably cane your hand three more times before I need to cane it over places where I've done it before.'

I got into position and folded my hands under my chest below my breasts. This lifted my chest which prevented me putting my head on the cushion, but which allowed my breasts to hang which did make them more visible but I was more comfortable because I was no longer lying on them.

Moments later, I was to howl again as the cane seared into my buttocks. Because I was resting on my arms, I was able to resist the urge to protect myself.

A very weird thing happened on the third stroke, it seemed as if I had lifted my bum to receive the stroke. Through my howls, I wondered if I had imagined it. But No! On the next stroke, this crazy pain induced euphoria really made my bum instinctively rise as the cane was whistling down to place yet another pair of red stripes on it.

The last stroke was placed right across the crease where my bum meets my thighs. It was wickedly painful, but I didn't care.

He wasted no time in positioning himself behind me and thrusting his huge penis into me. It was delightful and despite myself, I was soon screaming as the most intense orgasm that I had ever experienced in my life caused the most delightful convulsions to surge through my belly.

Not long after, he put a blanket over me and put the pillow that I had previously appropriated near my head and then disappeared, leaving me lying on the settee.

I woke next morning to hear him moving around in the kitchen.

He asked if I wanted some tea or coffee.

I said, 'coffee.'

When he brought it to me with a cookie on the saucer, I asked, "You haven't put anything weird in it like you did to the wine last night?'

'I didn't put anything in the wine.' He responded with irritation in his voice.

'Then how come even though you were beating me, I felt so relaxed and happy?'

'I think that you were experiencing an endorphin rush.' He said. 'I've never seen it happen before but then again; I've never caned anyone before. My brother canes his girlfriend often and she loves it because of that.'

I replied that regardless of how I felt, I could see that he got great pleasure out of hurting me and that I never wanted to see him again.

I was still hurting. My legs and butt were striped with nasty burning bruises that were turning black and purple. My left hand was sore, and my fingers hurt whenever I tried to hold anything. Even my pussy was sore from having been made to accommodate the vigorous thrusting of his great big cock.

I finished my coffee and got dressed.