by Maggie Ryan
"Thank you, Uncle Lucas," Louisa said, her voice soft and respectful as she glanced at him before giving her Papa her entire attention. No other sound was made as she listed her transgressions, confessed to her naughty attitude and choices. "I'm very sorry, Papa. Please help me make my atonement and accept my penance."
"I shall, little lady."
After his assurance, Lucy made her own confession. "I'm so sorry, Papa. I hope you can forgive me after I've made my atonement and my penance."
"I promise you'll know I have," Lucas said. "Go to the wall and bring me your paddle. I'll give you a hand spanking and a paddling to warm your bottom for its atonement."
*****
"Yes, Papa." Turning away, Lucy walked to the wall and lifted a wooden paddle from its hook. It was one he used every week, and as always, she flushed and felt the skin on her clenched buttocks crawl as she read the words engraved on the back. 'For Lucy's Naughty Bottom'—no matter how many times she'd take it to her Papa, those four words prepared her mind and her heart for what was about to occur. Of course, knowing it was about to bite into her bum also told her that reflection was done; it was time to accept the physical requirements of her Papa's discipline.
Lucas had moved the ottoman to allow him to sit forward enough so that his lap was free to hold his wife. Lucy stood waiting as he rolled up his sleeves, that action again preparing her emotionally to go across his knee. Glancing across the space she saw her sister, also holding a paddle retrieved from another rack, her Uncle Edward arranging his sleeves before opening his legs a bit and patting his right thigh.
"Lucy, focus on me," Lucas instructed, drawing her eyes back to him. She felt her cheeks flush as he patted his left thigh.
Both women moved to drape themselves across muscled thighs, their hair sweeping the floor as palms were planted only inches from the others'. Lucy felt the panels of her gown being parted and lifted to drape over her shoulders. Giving her sister one last glance, she closed her eyes as she felt her Papa's hand stroke across her bared bottom.
"Are you ready, Kitten?"
He asked this every week, and every week she fought against saying that no, she wasn't. Would he pull her up, roll down his sleeves and put the paddle aside if she ever gave that answer? She knew she'd never know, and her soul knew she'd never ask him to forego this weekly ritual. It was a time she needed, an hour or so in which she truly thought about more than her behavior. She thought about the vows she'd given this man, and she accepted that she needed every stroke, every bite of pain to fulfill her in ways she'd never understand. Taking a deep, calming breath, she gave the only answer her heart would allow. "Yes, Papa. Please may I make my atonement?"
"Yes, my love, you may." By the time Lucas picked up the paddle, Lucy was not only not thinking of her twin, she was praying that her Papa would consider her properly warmed with only a few strokes. His hand was as hard as any paddle, and her bottom was already burning.
Crack…crack…crack… The room echoed as crack after crack sounded, the men subconsciously or not alternating the strokes so that one crack led immediately into another. Though the girls had managed to withhold their cries during the majority of their hand spankings, it didn't take a dozen from the paddles before they were both wailing.
"Oh, please… please, Papa," Lucy cried, as hard strokes began to be applied one after another in the same spot before moving to give an adjacent spot its own five strokes. "Owww, oh, it hurts!"
"Settle down, Lucille," Lucas said, his tempo never wavering. "I still have a great deal of your naughty bottom to paddle."
His words had her wailing louder, though her ears could hear more than her own notes. She realized her sister was making an identical sound as her own rear was reddened.
She was still crying when she was tipped further forward, her hand finding her sister's. Fingers clenched as sit-spots were paddled until they were bright red, ensuring the girls would be reminded every time they sat down for a day or so of what happened to naughty little ones.
Lucy felt her Papa's hand running across her scalded cheeks once the paddling was done. When her sobs had softened into sniffles, he guided her off his knee to stand before him.
"Keep your gown up, sweetie," Lucas instructed before holding a handkerchief to her nose. "Blow for me." She did as she was told, continuing to hiccup, her hands holding the panels of her gown apart as he'd ordered, her crimson bottom framed by the stark white of the atonement gown.
"Go to Diabla," Lucas went on, turning her towards the black horse.
"Yes, Papa." Turning from him, she walked towards the version of the black stallion he'd had made for her. Diabla wasn't a proper name, but one he'd christened the horse in her punishment parlor. She knew his choice of name was to remind her that this wooden version would be the only black stallion she'd ever ride.
"Choose whatever you feel will best serve your little one," Lucas told Edward before he stood. "If you wish, you may wait for the horse."
"Thank you," Edward said, helping his own wife off his lap and helping her to blow her nose after she'd calmed a bit.
Lucas left the couple, walking to the rack to rehang the paddle, making sure the side with the words was visible. He'd heard his wife state that just seeing it helped put her in the proper frame of mind for her discipline. Lucy was obediently waiting as he walked towards her.
Lucy blushed hotly as he reached for the ends of the ribbons holding her gown closed, tugging gently until all three had come undone.
"No need to become tangled in the cloth as you ride," he said, as he pulled the soft fabric off her shoulders—where it slid down to be trapped by her arms as she'd not yet released the panels she'd been required to hold open. Lucy could feel her Papa's eyes on her as they gazed at her breasts. Her nipples had been pebbled from the moment she'd heard the door opening to admit him. At his gaze, she felt both draw up tighter, their normal, soft pink coloring darkening into the hue of ripe raspberries, protruding from the areolas surrounding them.
Her body quivered as he bent forward, trapping her left nipple in his mouth, the very tip of his tongue flicking back and forth until she wanted to drop her gown and press his head harder to her. His head lifted and his smile had her insides turning into a pool of lust, the liquid seeping from her quim as he gave her right nipple its own kiss.
"Perhaps next week I'll clamp your sweet little berries before you ride. Today, however, they shall remain free to bounce as you trot."
His words painted an instant picture in her mind and her cheeks colored hotly. She knew she'd be very conscious of every bounce, every jiggle of her breasts once she was seated in the saddle and her ride began. When he moved to cover her hands with his own and took the fabric from her, she released it to allow the gown to fall to the floor. The stiffening of her body was not in reaction to his scooping her into his arms—it was because of the distinctive snap of leather across bare flesh and the sharp cry that accompanied the stroke. She looked towards the other side of the room to see her uncle lifting the leather strap he'd chosen to continue Louisa's punishment. She could see nothing of her sister's face; only her spread legs, ankles held in soft cuffs, and her lifted bottom where she was bent at a ninety degree angle, her wrists and neck securely held in the stocks. As the strap landed again, the jerk of her sister's bum and her cry gave Lucy another picture to consider. This was what she looked like when in the stocks, this was the view her Papa saw as he whipped her backside.
"Focus on me, Kitten." Her Papa's reminder drew her back and she nodded, embarrassed that he'd had to repeat the phrase. He lifted her onto the saddle, the cool leather causing her to gasp, and she felt embarrassed at the fact that it felt comforting against her hot core. She watched as he adjusted the stirrups, raising them high. Any comfort she felt disintegrated as he guided first one foot and then the other into the stirrups. Her knees were almost as high as her hips, the position splaying her thighs wide on the saddle.
"Take the reins," Lucas instructed, draw
ing them up until she could take them. As she'd been taught, she wrapped the leather around her hand before closing her fists. She'd pull hard on each one, yet knew that to release was cause for an additional amount of time spent riding.
Though she was still sitting upright, when Lucas bent down and removed the blocks of wood that held the horse immobile, she bent forward, readying herself for the command she knew would be issued.
She felt the horse dip forward a bit as the final block was removed, the thick curved runners making no sound as they rocked against the floor. Her heart began to beat faster, her loins growing slicker as she tried not to look towards the wall. She didn't really wish to see which of the canes her Papa would choose.
"You may begin," Lucas said, giving her a bit of assistance with a heavy swat against the leather horse.
Lucy bent forward, her cheek resting on Diabla's mane as she rocked back and forth. Her feet pressed hard in the stirrups, pushing them forward so that her bottom was pushed back to her Papa. She hadn't been ordered to post, and the saddle had not been exchanged for the other he'd had made for her. This wasn't to be a ride that brought her indescribable—though embarrassing—pleasure. There was no phallus for her to mount as she posted up and down, forwards and back as her Papa flipped a leather riding crop against her bottom. Nor was her Papa behind her, his cock buried to the hilt inside of her as she rocked back and forth, his hands tugging and twisting on her nipples until she screamed in ecstasy and he filled her. No, this was a ride that ensured she'd not want to sit in another saddle for quite some time. A ride where her arse would be welted before she was allowed to dismount.
"Present."
The command had her lifting from the saddle, her torso stretched along the horse's neck, her feet taking her weight as she pushed her naked posterior up and back. The horse continued to rock as she bent, using her leg and arm muscles to keep it in motion as required, never knowing when the backward rock would meet with the stroke to be given. She wasn't sure which was harder; the anticipation of that first stroke, or the reality of how a thin rod of bamboo could sear her backside. All she could do was obey her Papa and concentrate on riding Diabla, lifting her bottom on each backward roll.
Whish…crack! Lucy's head reared back as the first line of fire was delivered. He'd chosen the thin cane, the one that was flexible and able to wrap and mold against a bottom. The force pushed her forward, her bottom bucking before Diabla's momentum rocked back on its runners. Whish…crack! Another line flamed across her flesh. Her teeth held her bottom lip as she tried to contain the wails she knew would soon escape, despite her effort to accept her discipline in silence. She heard the sound of the cane whistling through the air and the sharp crack as it met its target three additional times before her Papa spoke again.
"Gallop, Lucy. Ride hard and fast and push your bottom back. I want to see it lifted high so I can do it justice." He assisted her again, his large hand pushing hard against Diabla's flank as Lucy forced her torso lower, her arse higher, her thighs beginning to burn with the required flexing and unflexing of muscles to keep the horse rocking faster and faster. Her hands pulled on the reins and, with the faster pace, she lifted her roasted rear for her Papa.
Whish…crack; whish…crack; whish…crack!
"Papa!" Her cry filled the space around them but did nothing to stop the cane from falling. The strokes fell faster, biting into her with every tilt of the horse.
"Stand," Lucas ordered, and when she straightened her legs to stand in the stirrups, her body practically bent in two, the cane stroke was adjusted by his upward swing to bite directly across the tautly stretched skin of her sit-spot.
"Ahh, please, Papa!"
Another stroke was given, and then a final one before the cane stopped falling. Her tears streamed down her face, her chest heaving as she drew in great gulps of air and she felt Diabla come to a gentle stop beneath her. She had no wish to sit in the saddle, the fire across her buttocks and those lines painted where buttocks met her thighs were burning as if her Papa were holding a flame to her skin.
"Shh," Lucas said, as he moved to the side of the horse after returning the cane to the rack. "I've got you, Kitten." He held her with an arm around her waist until she'd released the reins to fall to the floor. He plucked her from Diabla and her legs instantly wrapped around his waist, her arms around his neck. Her tears were absorbed by the collar of his shirt as she buried her face in his neck. "Shh, you rode very well, little one. You made me very proud."
"I'm sorry, Papa," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry I was naughty."
"I know, Kitten. I know you want to be my good girl." He held her until she had stopped sobbing and gulping for breath. Once she'd calmed, he led her to the kneeling bench, gently pulling her arms from their tight hold. "Kneel and consider what you've learned, Lucy."
She knelt, her hand swiping across her face to remove her tears before she folded them once more. She was no longer contemplating what was to come, her burning backside told her that the physical atonement was done. She was not even aware that her sister was kneeling beside her until Louisa's hand moved to take hers. Their fingers entwined, giving silent and loving support to each other as they knelt, heads bowed and eyes closed.
Lucas replaced the blocks of wood to keep the horse still before using a cloth and cleanser to wipe down the saddle. He then gave it a brief rubbing of oil before unbuckling the stirrups to return them to the lowest position. He'd found it far better to have his little one wondering how they'd be adjusted after he'd placed her in the saddle, than to have her understand how he expected her to ride the moment she saw Diabla. Once he was done, he rolled his sleeves down, accepting his coat from Edward who'd come to stand beside him.
"Beautiful horse," Edward said softly, as his palm ran across the leather. "Absolutely beautiful ride as well."
"She amazes me every time she rides," Lucas said. "Not only is she incredible when riding for punishment, it is like watching a goddess when she rides for pleasure."
"I can see how that is possible. My plans for Louisa's parlor have just changed a bit."
"Feel free to ask for the key while you are here." Lucas grinned as he bent to pick up Lucy's gown from the floor. "Shall we finish so our ladies can find their rest?"
At Edward's nod, the men moved to the prie-dieu, each taking the arm of their loved one.
Once Lucy stood, Lucas helped her back into her gown, tying the bows before bending to kiss her lightly. His cock was rock hard, and twitched when she moaned and pressed her lips hard against his. Though the men always required a final penance, sinking into their wives to spill themselves into their willing bodies, they had decided that the very intimate penance required after a naughty bottom had been strapped or caned was best left to be given in private.
Scooping the women into their arms, the men left the parlor, carefully walking down the narrow stairs. Edward turned into his room as Lucas carried Lucy a bit farther, pushing his own door open and carrying her to the bed.
He gently massaged her arms, his fingers loosening the muscles before he slid his hands between the gown's panels to massage her thighs. Her soft moan told of her relief as cramped, tight muscles relaxed under his ministrations.
"Thank you," Lucy said, her eyes lifted to his, watching as he undressed. "May I make my penance now, Papa?"
"Yes, Kitten."
This time the bows were undone by her own fingers, the gown slipped off as she moved to lie over the wedge he'd placed in the center of their bed. Using her fingers to pull apart the hot, swollen globes of her bottom, she then splayed her legs wide to offer herself to him. "I'm sorry I was naughty, Papa. Thank you for spanking me. Thank you for my paddling, and thank you for caning me as I rode Diabla. Please forgive me."
"I have, and always will," Lucas said, climbing to kneel behind her, reaching for the pot of lubricant he'd placed by the wedge. Her gasp as he applied the cream to her flower told him of the contrasting sensations; the cold lubricant against the heat of
her skin. He applied a generous amount to his cock before moving forward to gently insert a finger into her pink, furrowed opening. Another finger joined the first as he began to work them in and out of her, taking the time to prepare her before he accepted her penance.
Removing his fingers, he traced them along the crease of her sex, the lips swollen and parted, her clit standing tall.
Lucy gasped at his touch, wanting to press down against his hand, to beg him to slide his fingers deep inside. She was gushing, the wet sounds as he continued to touch her causing her face to flush as a soft moan of yearning floated past her throat.
"Such a wanton, naughty girl," he said, bending forward to kiss her shoulder. "Such a beautiful, passionate woman." He lifted off her back, the head of his cock pressing against her flower signaling that it was time.
She pushed back, opening herself for his entry, accepting his dominance and craving his every touch despite the sharp pain as her sphincter advertised its reluctance to stretch around his girth.
"Open, Kitten, let Papa into your bottom."
She pressed harder, impaling herself on his cock, biting back her squeal as a burning pain told of his success in entering her most intimate opening.
"Good girl, you may release."
Lucy moved her hands as he began to slide into her, her fingers finding the bedcovers to clutch, her cheek pressed to the mattress as her body continued to accept every inch of him.
Despite the shame of such possession, she'd come to enjoy anal play. However, this was not play—this was penance. She knew that once he was fully seated, his balls pressed against her soaking wet cunny, he'd extract the last of her penance by pounding in and out of her. Though it was always a struggle to accept the hard fucking, she was also grateful for it. She didn't want to spend, didn't want to reach a culmination, as doing so would warrant her bottom receiving another dose. No, this was for his pleasure only, and one she'd willingly offer every time she received permission to perform her penance.
*****