Saturday, 8 September 2012

My Caning (erotica)

This story is based on various real life experiences squished together into one delicious scene. If you're fine with canings and D/s, this shouldn't disturb.

“Please, sir, please no, I didn’t mean it.” I was running through the cottage naked but for the collar around my neck, trying to get away from my Master. “Please, not that, it hurts so much.”

Marcus stopped and casually leant against the wall. He looked beautiful, in his suit trousers and smart white shirt. I couldn’t help but want to stroke and lick and caress all of him, despite the torture he was giving me. I knew he could tell how terrified I was. I caught him glancing at the bruises he caused when he paddled me earlier. I could see how excited he was at the prospect of feeling me squirm, of hearing me beg. I knew I had to learn and I wondered if he was sorry for the pain or happy it was making me wet for him.

“Slave, come here and I won’t increase your punishment further. If I have to chase you, you will get 10 strokes of the cane, not 6. You will crawl to me here and kneel before me, you will take this stick. You will hit your breasts with it and between each stroke you must tell me a different reason why I have to punish you. One reason per strike. If you fail to come to me now, if you fail to hit yourself, if you fail to prove that you are genuinely sorry, it will be extra strokes of the cane. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.” I crawled on my hands and knees. My brown hair tied up in a high ponytail so it was easy for my Master to handle. My knees scraping across the stone floor.

I was, and am, frightened of the cane more than anything. I know it only happens when I really deserve it. Like then, I knew it and I knew my Master meant every word. If I did not please him it would be so much worse. It hurt to kneel but I took the stick from him. It was about a foot long and thin, it looked like a wand. Protrusions stuck out along the length of it. I took it in my right hand, my knees increasingly sore. My bum still stung from the earlier spanking. I was desperately aroused. I hadn’t been permitted to orgasm in the two days we had been together. I was wet and every part of me was tingling with anticipation. It meant I was prone to spontaneous orgasms no matter how hard I tried to control them. This is why I was in this predicament now. I had come while my tongue was thrust deep inside my Master’s sweet anus. It tasted so good. He farted on me while I was doing it, like the bitch I am. It made me feel slutty and used. He was hitting my cunt with the same stick I now had to beat my breasts with. How was I not supposed to come like that? The ecstasy was short lived, and it meant I was even more aroused. Worse, my skin was so sensitive that everything was going to hurt that much more.

“Look at me.” Sir grabbed my slave collar and lifted it up, forcing my face up. “Now begin.”

Swish! I could not see what I was doing so I hoped my aim was true. The first stung a little, but I could quickly state my crime: “I deserve to be punished because I did not obey my Master.”

The second strike made me wince. I took a breath and said: “I deserve to be punished because I am a bad slave.”

The third strike hit my nipple hard and I whimpered. It was hard not to swear, but I had been learning that Sir does not like that while I was being punished. I had to pause a little before I could say: “I deserve to be punished because I am a filthy whore.”

The fourth strike was when I almost came, the situation so intense my body tried to release all the tension it was feeling: “I deserve to be punished because I did not add the milk to my tea before I added the hot water, as my Master commands.”

The fifth strike hurt. I had to pause. I knew a welt would come from that. “I deserve to be punished because I am a bratty slave.”

At last, I hit my breasts for the sixth time. I almost cried with relief, but I knew what would come next. “I deserve to be punished because I make my Master’s job so difficult.” I felt my wetness drip on the floor beneath me.

“Good slave.” My master stroked my hair gently. He leant down and his hands caressed and teased my breasts. “Now, open your mouth.” I obeyed as he thrust his cock into my mouth, choking me. His juices leaked into my mouth. They tasted salty and sweet and bitter and delicious. He thrust in and out, in an out, in and out. His hand was grabbing my hair. He took his cock out and wiped it on my face, it was nothing more than I deserved. He put his fingers through the loop on my collar and dragged me to the kitchen. “What do I have to do now, slave?”

Shaking, I answered, “Punish me, sir”

“How should I do that?”

“With the cane, sir”


“My thighs, sir”

“How often?”

“Six times, sir”

“Bend over the island.” I bent over the island in the center of the kitchen, my legs were straight and my breasts touched the counter. It was cold. The granite top added to the sensations that were already swimming around my body. Master placed my arms straight, telling me to grab the other side of the island, “slave. You may scream, but not move.”

“I’m scared, sir.”

“I know, but you know why you must be punished.”

“Yes, sir. I disobeyed you.”

“After each strike you must count and repeat that phrase. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”

He bought the cane down across the back of my thighs. It stung as only canes do. I screamed. “One. I disobeyed you.”

I felt the second one a little higher up, the pain was intense but still I remembered not to swear. The third time I was not so lucky.

“Fuck! Please, stop. It hurts”

“For that I add a seventh.”

“Yes, sir. Three. I disobeyed you.” My master put a wooden spoon in my mouth so I had something to bite on.

The fourth strike was the hardest. I felt the spoon fall from my mouth. I screamed loudly and begged my Master to stop. Yet still I was able to say “Four. I disobeyed you.”

The fifth strike led to tears streaming down my face. I couldn’t feel anything other than my burning thighs. My legs weren’t holding me up. I was just lying on the counter, breathing heavily, trying to absorb the sensations and control the terror and the agony. “Five. I disobeyed you.”

My Master waited awhile after that. I started to feel myself sinking into a warm bath of peace and bliss. The sixth strike was a blur. I was pulled out of my space just long enough to say “Six. I disobeyed you.” After the seventh strike I was in a deep, deep zone. The next thing I knew, ointment was being rubbed on my legs. It stung but was soothing.

“You are a good slave, you took that well. Would you like a reward?”

I nodded but didn’t move. He moved into the lounge, pulling me with him by my hair. He sat on the couch.

“Put a knee either side of me and slide down onto my cock.”

My cunt throbbed and I desperately wanted to feel his cock inside me, but everything hurt and I could barely sit. I had no energy to slide onto anything. I tried putting one leg over him but all I could do was collapse on top of him. He slapped me for that. Across the face. It was humiliating being chastised for something I couldn’t help. But it was my job to please my Sir. I used all my will to straddle him. He grabbed my arse. As he squeezed my spanked bottom, gentle throbs coursed into my cunt. It felt warm and soft and exhilarating compared to the agony of my thighs. The sensations were barely controllable. I slid onto his cock, straight down, my wet cunt embraced him. He told me to look at him.

“You cannot come without my permission, do you understand.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I want you to move up and down, I want to feel your arse hit my thighs, I want my balls against your cunt. Do it. Now.”

I had to bite my lip not to come as my walls milked him. Each time my arse met his thighs I could feel the paddle marks. Each time my thighs moved I could feel the beating I had been given. Even my breasts were not safe. As they bounced up and down the welt I had left was pulled this way and that. Every movement made me wince. Every movement bought ecstatic bliss.

“What do you want, slave?”

“I need you to come inside me. Hard. Just come deep, deep inside me.”

“Good slave.” His breath was short and raspy. “Anything else?”

“To come, sir. Please. Master, please may I come?”

“You may come, you may come.”

The explosions came in rolling waves. Tears of relief ran down my face. Ecstatic screams leaving my body.

“Thank you sir.” I managed to cry out as another orgasm rocked through my whole body. My Master did not come. He stopped and slid me off his cock.

“Take position, slave.” The position was all fours. It always was. I will never know how I managed to muster that last bit of energy. Only that the need to do as Sir commands is greater than any physical weakness. I knelt on the floor, my limbs shaking, my head down. I was so wet my Master used my juices to slide his cock into my arse.

“Please, come inside my arse Sir. Please come inside my arse.” I repeated it like a mantra, each time I said it he thrust deeper and harder. I said it faster and faster as he fucked my arse harder and deeper. He came as I had one last final orgasm, milking the last of his juices deep inside me.

He took his cock out and wiped it on my arse. “Thank you. You are a good slave.” I collapsed on the floor and slept.

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