by C. P. Vanner
She heard the swish of the cane. He was swinging it as he approached her. He stopped in front of her and placing his free hand under her chin, tipped up her face to look her in the eyes. She felt again the warm ripples flowing outwards from her sex and a dampness between her legs.
‘Beth,’ he said, ‘I am going to give you six strokes of the cane. Bend over and touch your toes.’
She was momentarily crestfallen; he did not want to see her naked. Slowly she bent in front of him, parting her legs slightly so she could better touch the floor. It was not particularly comfortable but she was a supple girl and it was a position she adopted many times at the gym where she worked out.
She could sense him inspecting her afresh, looking at the part of her anatomy most exposed and nearest to him. The knickers that covered her bottom were stretched and hid very little. She felt his hand at the waistband. Now, she thought. But instead of pulling them down, he tucked them up so that they resembled a g-string; a line around her waist, another line at right angles disappearing into the cleft of her bottom, and between her legs, a small pouch containing the lips of her sex.
He did not touch the unblemished flesh of her exposed bottom any more than he had to, and she was disappointed.
She heard his voice from behind. ‘You deserve to be severely punished, Beth. This is going to hurt. It is for your edification. And,’ he added quietly under his breath, ‘for my pleasure.’
Hearing his words, Beth, with her head just a few feet above the floor, looked back at him between her own knees. She could see the front of his trousers, and with a sense of triumph she saw what she was looking for, the unmistakeable shape and presence of his manhood pressing the cloth outwards, seeming to seek her near-nakedness.
There was no more warning than that between the crack of a rifle and the impact of the bullet. She was just aware of the swish of the cane at the moment it cut into her tensed bottom. She cried out in surprise and then drew her breath in with a gasp as the pain hit her. She did not try to rise, but grasped her ankles with perspiring hands and let the pain wash over her.
‘That’s one, sir,’ she said in a muffled voice.
Richard was in no hurry. She had just begun to relax and to unclench her bottom muscles when the second stroke landed, a fraction beneath the first. She cried out in pain this time and had to fight an overpowering desire to stand up and rub her poor flesh.
‘T-two, sir,’ she gasped, and instinctively opened her legs a little wider to steady her stance. This time there was no waiting. The third stroke landed on the softest flesh just above her thighs and she felt as though she had been cut in two with a sword. She bit her lower lip hard to suppress the howl that threatened to burst from her lungs.
‘Th-three, sir,’ she managed. ‘I - I have been very naughty, sir, I know. But I’ll be good...!’
The fourth stroke landed on the word ‘good’, and she ended with a yelp. It did not seem quite as hard as the others, or her bottom was becoming numb. She stole a look back at Richard again and the mound on his trouser front was even more prominent than before.
‘Four, sir,’ she said, when she could trust her voice to be steady.
‘Yes,’ she heard him behind her, ‘you have been a naughty girl... a very naughty girl.’
He swung the cane again and the fifth stroke landed in exactly the same place as the fourth, with renewed vigour. This time Beth sobbed and started to straighten up slightly, but with a strong hand he held her in position.
‘F-five, sir,’ she blurted obediently.
The sixth stroke landed with a crack that could have been heard down the hall, hard and with deadly accuracy across the fleshiest curves. Beth leapt up as if she was on a spring. She stood in front of him, tears in her eyes, lower lip trembling and her fingers gently cosseting the tortured flesh, marvelling at the ridges where only minutes ago there had been silky smoothness.
‘Six, sir,’ she panted when she had regained sufficient composure. ‘Thank you, sir.’
She stood submissively before him awaiting his instructions, sensing that was what he wanted. He leaned back again against his desk with a faint flush to his cheeks, feasting his eyes on her delicious body.
Beth was proud of her stoicism and strength in the face of the ordeal. She was also acutely aware, now that the worst of the pain was subsiding, that the urgent warmth in her loins had replaced it.
‘You can get dressed again,’ Richard said, returning to his chair. The bastard, she thought as she picked up her blouse. He was playing with her. As she dressed she turned her back to him so he could see the welts on her bottom. Slowly and deliberately she lowered her knickers so that she was fully exposed before drawing them up again into their proper place.
‘I can see that you are prepared to learn and to improve,’ he said, when she was fully dressed. ‘Tomorrow you have the Rybix people. Show me how much you have learned. Report to me here tomorrow evening at the same time.’
Standing by the door, Beth turned. ‘Yes, Richard, and thank you for giving me a second chance.’
He had already bent his head to the papers on his desk. ‘Rest assured, your lessons are not over yet,’ he said.
Chapter 2
Beth stood in the carriage on the tube even though there were one or two seats available. She was too sore to sit. Anyone looking at her, and several men did, would have had no idea from her face of the thoughts cascading through her mind.
She surreptitiously smoothed her skirt over her buttocks, feeling again the welts under the cloth. If that is what it takes, my girl, that is what it takes. If you want to get ahead in business, if you want to do well, then you must take the rough with the smooth, the licks with the kicks. You deserved what you got, and you got it, with more still to come. Are you going to give in now? No, of course you’re not. What really matters, a successful career or a sore bottom? No contest. And anyway, you took it well. Well done, you didn’t cry, not much, and you didn’t wet your panties. So he does it again, and again. So what? So what if it is humiliating to be caned on your bare bottom by your boss? If it works, it works. And it is going to work, isn’t it? You are going to get the Rybix contract, aren’t you? Richard can do all the punishing he wants, you’ll show him.
As she approached her stop, Beth was proud of her resolve. Why then, did she feel so damned irritable? Sore and irritable. She realised with chagrin that it was the irritability that comes from frustration - from an unsatisfied sexual appetite.
She was in no mood therefore for petulance from Celeste when she opened the front door of her flat.
Celeste was sitting on a sofa with her feet on the coffee table. ‘You’ve ruined it,’ she announced coldly.
‘Ruined what?’ Beth asked.
‘The supper. I’d cooked a nice supper for us. You are always home by seven.’
Beth threw her leather briefcase into a corner with more force than necessary. She stood looking at the pouting nineteen-year-old. ‘I’ll come home when it suits me,’ she pointed out. ‘You are not my wife, you know. You are my flatmate. On sufferance,’ she added, and then changed her tone. ‘I’ve had a difficult day,’ she said.
Celeste was not to be mollified. She stuck out her lower lip and theatrically picked up the evening newspaper and scanned it, holding it in front of her face.
‘I’m going to have a soak,’ Beth announced to the sports pages, before going through to the tiny bathroom.
She undressed as she ran steaming water into the bath, scented it, and thought that Celeste was just the sort of girl who would benefit from the treatment she’d so recently received. If ever a girl needed caning on her bare bottom it was Celeste. She was a pretty girl, and bright enough, but she was just plain lazy. Beth thought to herself how she would be glad to administer it herself, and given a little more provocation she might do just that.
Celeste had come to live with her two mo
nths before. Beth was originally from Newcastle and Celeste from Sunderland. Their parents were friends; both fathers worked for the same company and were golfing partners. The girls knew each other quite well but had never been real friends or playmates, mainly because of the few years’ difference in their ages.
Celeste had left school the previous September and devastated her parents by announcing that she had no intention of going to university. She wanted to go to London, she said, to be a model. Defeated, her indulgent mother wrote to Beth asking if Celeste could stay with her until she finds her feet in London. Beth could tell by the wording of the letter that Celeste’s mother thought the capital to be a sink of iniquity just waiting to devour young female flesh. Would you keep an eye on Celeste and keep her on a short rein, Mrs Englund had written.
In theory and in practice Beth was actually quite glad of the company, and she would also have been glad of the rent money if Celeste just once came up with the full amount. But the girl did nothing. In her first ten days in London she had some second rate photographs taken of herself and made an amateurish composite portfolio, but since then she had seen no agents nor sought any interviews. Beth had no idea of how she spent her days but assumed they involved no effort of activity or industry.
What both flattered and disturbed Beth most was that Celeste seemed to live her life vicariously through Beth. She fed on all the details of Beth’s working existence, her ups and downs, successes and failures. Most evenings Beth would have to give her details of her day, the comical moments and stories, often embellished, of office shenanigans. Celeste knew the names of all the people she worked with most closely.
It was not natural, Beth thought, picking up the lilac bar of soap. She should get a life. What Celeste needed, Beth thought again, was the smack of firm discipline. It would not have occurred to her before - before Richard had dealt with her - but that was just what Celeste needed, to have her knickers taken down and her bare bottom spanked.
With that thought, Beth turned over in the relaxing water and lay on her front. She closed her eyes, resting her chin on her forearm on the rim of the bath, and sighed with pleasure... and she was still like that when Celeste appeared. They would never lock the door on each other and would often have discussions, one in the bath and the other peeing or using the make-up mirror.
‘I’m just reheating the...’ Celeste paused in mid-sentence, transfixed by the sight of Beth in the bath, ‘...chicken casserole... What on earth happened to you?’ Apart from her head and shoulders the only part of Beth to show above the bubbles on the water’s surface were her buttocks, twin islands in a foamy sea divided by a ribbon of water. Instead of their normal unblemished beauty, they were ridged with red and purple weals.
Celeste fell to her knees beside the bath and reached out a hand, wanting but hesitating to touch them. ‘What happened?’ she asked again.
Beth rested her head on her arm and looked back down the length of her body. She could not quite see the focal points of Celeste’s attention.
‘Get the mirror,’ she said, ‘and show me.’ Celeste lifted the mirror off the shelf and held it above Beth, adjusting it until she found the right position.
Beth studied her magnified bottom with awe and no small measure of pride. She had taken that and hardly cried out or shed a tear.
‘You’ve been hit with a stick,’ Celeste deduced, horror in her voice. ‘Who did it?’
‘Richard Cross,’ Beth said, her voice muffled by her arm. ‘But I deserved it.’
‘Wow,’ Celeste gasped. She had heard quite a lot about Richard Cross in their evening chats. ‘Did he enjoy it?’
‘Oh yes,’ Beth chuckled, ‘he enjoyed it. I could see that all right.’
Celeste ran her fingers gingerly over the ridges. ‘I bet you didn’t though, you poor thing,’ she said. ‘You are so beautiful, and he’s so cruel.’
‘It was that or the sack,’ Beth said simply. ‘I have cost the company a lot of money.’
Celeste picked up a large bath towel from the warming rail and held it invitingly. ‘I want to hear all about it - every detail,’ she said. ‘But first let me make a fuss of you. You need something on it.’
Beth happily acceded. She felt like being pampered and the good-for-nothing Celeste might as well be good-for-something. As she stood up in the bath, Celeste enveloped her in the soft towel and began to pat her dry. The younger girl was as gentle as a mother with her baby, and when she put her arms around Beth to reach her back, their cheeks touched and Beth could feel her breath on her ear. Then taking down a smaller towel, Celeste sat on the floor and dried each of Beth’s feet.
‘I’ll finish you off in the bedroom,’ she said, putting her arm around Beth’s shoulders and leading her out along the hall to Beth’s bedroom. Gently pushing her shoulders she made Beth lie down, still wrapped in the bath towel, on the bed.
The evening sun flooded the room with a strong, warm light. Tenderly Celeste opened the towel as if she was unwrapping a present while Beth watched her handmaiden with grave eyes. She lay still, face up, her naked body gleaming like a pearl in a pink shell.
Celeste took the second towel and began to pat Beth dry, starting with her shoulders and then circling around and around Beth’s breasts, which were firm and held their shape even though she was supine. Celeste took her time, teasing the small pink nipples with the towelling, and continued long after every drop of water had disappeared.
‘That tickles,’ Beth giggled.
Celeste towelled the flat stomach and the small patch of fair pubic hair which, when dry, was as soft and fluffy as a kitten’s fur. Beth moaned and instinctively opened her legs slightly so that Celeste could dry the creases at the top of her thighs on either side of her labia. Slowly and gently, Celeste then rubbed the towel up and down the pink, inviting lips.
‘What are you doing?’ Beth asked, but there was no anger in her voice.
‘Nothing much,’ Celeste said huskily. ‘Don’t say stop.’
Beth placed an arm across her eyes. ‘I’m not going to.’
‘Tell me what happened,’ Celeste said, her voice almost sounding too urgent in the quiet, sunlit room.
Beth spoke almost dreamily as Celeste continued the slow up-and-down movement against her sex. ‘Richard caned me because of my figures - I received six of the best,’ she said throatily. ‘I deserved it. I accepted that necklace when I did well. I got this because I did badly.’
‘Were you naked?’ Celeste asked breathlessly. ‘Turn over...’
Beth obeyed reluctantly; she had wanted that to go on forever. ‘No,’ she said, rolling gracefully over onto her stomach. ‘In my undies. He pulled my panties up so they were like a g-string.’
Beth’s back was already dry from lying on the towel, so Celeste patted it and her thighs quickly and then concentrated on her tender bottom.
‘Did Richard do anything?’ she asked, a tinge of jealousy in her voice. Very tentatively she placed her towelled hand on the punished flesh.
Beth winced. ‘No,’ she said, her head again buried in her arms. ‘But I wanted him to.’
‘Open your legs,’ Celeste said. She dried between Beth’s buttocks and again between her legs. She lowered her head and began to kiss the stripes on the warm flesh, counting aloud with each kiss. Beth did not move but drew her breath in with an audible gasp when Celeste kissed ‘Five’ where it crossed with ‘Six’. Totally engrossed in her task, Celeste intuitively ran her tongue along the welt on the left cheek, down into the unmarked valley to Beth’s pink and puckered anus, and then back up the other side, along the welt on the right cheek. Beth moaned with discomfort and pleasure.
‘Don’t move,’ Celeste said, and disappeared off into the bathroom as Beth lay immobile in the evening sun. She was beginning to feel drowsy but was awoken when a blob of cold cream landed on one buttock. Celeste smoothed it in and then did the same to th
e other cheek.
‘Richard taught me one thing,’ Beth said.
‘What’s that?’ Celeste asked, absorbed in her work, rubbing her hand in a circle around Beth’s bottom.
‘What I am going to do to you one of these days, if you don’t pull your finger out.’
‘Like this, you mean?’ Celeste giggled, and she ran her greasy forefinger into the valley between Beth’s cheeks and slipped it gently into the girl’s anus. Beth groaned, as she cheekily eased it in and out.
‘Yes,’ she sighed, ‘something like that.’ She lay still, enjoying the delicious sensation. Celeste again put her finger into the cream jar and stroked Beth between her anus and vagina.
‘A good spanking on your bare bottom might do you the world of good,’ Beth mumbled.
‘Would it make me as hot as you are now?’
‘We’ll find out... very soon.’
‘Promise,’ said Celeste, and she slipped onto her knees at the end of the bed and put her face between Beth’s thighs. Then she did with her tongue what she had done with the towel, licking up and down the length of Beth’s labia. Beth, who had been simmering sexually since her encounter with Richard, relaxed and spread her legs wider to allow Celeste entry. Celeste’s tongue penetrated Beth’s moist and eager vagina while, with her right hand, she gently teased her anus. As the tongue darted in and out with increasing speed, Beth started to moan and to move her hips, but she still had time to think that the good-for-nothing girl was good-for-something after all. It may be unorthodox, it may even be wrong, but it was what she wanted, and wanted desperately at that moment.
As Celeste removed her tongue and ran it upwards along the line of perfumed ointment until it reached and tickled and teased her tiny anus, Beth could hear Richard’s voice again announcing that he was going to give her six strokes of the cane. She lifted her bottom to Richard’s cane, and to Celeste’s tongue.
While Beth’s bottom was still arched in the air, Celeste slid back down again and found the firm bud she sought and sucked on it as if it was a grape she wanted to swallow whole. Beth stopped thinking and simply felt. Her body knew it was finally going to have the release it had yearned for so long. She ground and rotated her wet sex against Celeste’s mouth and tongue, moaning and grabbing handfuls of the duvet.