He explained, in turn, the canes and whips, the belts and paddles, and how each of them would deliver a very specific type of punishment. As he spoke of them, two feelings turned within Lina, swirling at times together and at times opposed: fear, naturally, of the pain, but also, a desire to feel it, to submit to Mr. Blackstone, for she sensed in his explanations a sort of protective tenderness.
“I know not which one to choose, sir,” she said breathlessly, and again she turned her face slightly, without realizing she was doing so. This time he was slower to stop her, and his lips brushed over her cheekbone before he used his hand to turn her gently back to face the wall.
Her lips moved, shaking with the desire to ask him why he always hid in the shadows, but she said nothing. Blindly, to stop herself from speaking improperly, she reached for a cane with an exquisite ivory handle. She had never been caned before, but she sensed that it would bite viciously, and she had read of canings in schools, in books in the attic, and they had inspired in her the same feelings that she had now.
Now, however, she was not only free to embrace those inclinations, she had no choice but to endure them.
“A cane, Miss Blanchet,” he said, taking it from her hand. His fingers lingered on the back of her hand, stroking her skin. “That is a most severe choice.”
Her voice shook as she breathed, “I have been most disobedient.”
Saying such a thing made the animal clawing inside of her go wild, and her cunny throbbed.
“Well,” he said, cracking the cane through the air with a snap that made her jump again, and sent a thrill through her. “A caning you shall have, then. Turn and walk to the bed.”
She obeyed, her skin tingling with anticipation.
“Assume the position of discipline, Miss Blanchet. As you did yesterday.”
She did so, trembling, the skin on her bottom reminding her suddenly of the searing pain of the whipping she had endured the day before, almost throbbing with heat as though it had been set on fire anew.
“Your bottom is quite red from the discipline you received yesterday, Miss Blanchet,” he growled behind her. The cane sliced through the air, making a terrifying sound, but when it touched her, it was laid upon her skin gently, as a caress. The cane traveled over her bottom and down her legs, a feathery touch with the promise of stinging bite. “This is going to make you cry, Miss Blanchet. But I promise that I shall not mar your lovely skin, except to leave a bit of a welt, that you may feel to remind yourself of your disobedience.”
The cane whipped through the air again, singing, and she shivered.
“Will you remain as you are, submissive for your punishment, or do you require me to restrain you?” he asked her, one hand gently pushing her lower back down, so that her bottom tilted up into the air. Lina curled her fingers against the leather.
“I shall remain as I am,” she breathed, and then held her breath, hoping that she could in fact obey, for she wanted to show Mr. Blackstone that she was obedient, even if she could not be sure whether the drive within her to do so was one of defiance, or of true submission.
“I shall cane you five times, Miss Blanchet, provided that you are well-behaved.”
The cane again sang in the air, and her spine tingled before the searing stripe of heat reached her senses. Unlike the spankings she had received, or the whipping, the power of the cane was so concentrated that at the moment it touched her skin it was so intense she could not feel anything at all. Then, like an insect bite, it screamed across her skin, and blossomed into a searing heat, making her breath leave her chest in a silent scream. The heat spread slowly, while the strip burned intensely. Her eyes watered immediately and uncontrollably, but she managed to keep her voice within her chest.
It was, after all, the punishment she had chosen for herself.
The second crack landed in a stripe below the first, and tears were expelled from her eyes, but she still made no sound. The wave of the heat of the two welts crashed against each other, spreading, biting, but the third, and then fourth canes lashed into her in quick succession, right after the now-familiar slicing through the air.
Upon the impact of the fourth stripe, she heard herself whimper. She began to push herself up, to attempt to stand, to beg for just a moment, but she stopped herself, and paused, partly raised, trembling.
“Miss Blanchet, return to your disciplining position, or I will be forced to punish you for your further disobedience.”
She slid slowly back to the leather, now damp with her sweat, and closed her eyes tightly as she tilted her bottom up for Mr. Blackstone’s final caning. The cane swept through the air, singing, and she let out a yelp, but the cane never landed on her bottom. Her eyes flew open, and she trembled, staring at her hand through the blur of her tears.
Mr. Blackstone’s fingers landed gently on the first welt, and followed the swollen skin along the strip to the end, heating the already burning welt and making Lina’s whole body shake. Though the pain was intense, the pleasure that throbbed in her cunny was more so, and it almost seemed to be enhanced as Mr. Blackstone traced each of the four welts, lighting them on fire again with the touch of his fingers.
“Ask me to give you your final stroke, Miss Blanchet. Use your most polite words, and call me master.”
Her voice was shaking as she spoke, and each word seemed to actually touch her cunny, stroking her as Mr. Doyle had done until she was screaming with pleasure.
“Please, Mr. Blackstone, sir...m...master. Cane me again.”
“As you wish,” he said softly.
And he delivered the final stroke, another neat line below the other four, so that no welt crossed over another, and her skin burned in five, hot slashes, neatly arranged.
She was panting and could feel sweat rolling along her ribs. The waves of heat on her bottom had been overcome by the ache between her legs. Mr. Blackstone’s fingers danced over the final welt and then slipped down, to where she ached most, brushing over her little button and making her gasp.
His touch was light, and he played with her, driving her wilder, providing no relief. Tears welled up in her eyes again as she realized that he might not yet have delivered his true punishment. The true punishment might be to tease her, and never give her any relief.
