Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
She does as she is told, her skirt pulling tight over her shapely rear as she gets into position. It is a pretty sight, but it is not one I intend to indulge for long. With a cane, I need to see what I am doing.
I reach down between her thighs, and pull the skirt up and over her hips, baring her ass. Today she is wearing a lacy black pair of underwear. Today she knew there was a chance I would be seeing her unclad and made an effort. Very cute. I do not say anything, but I mentally make a note to reward her a little for that.
The panties have to come down, of course. I lower them beneath her cheeks so they frame her round bottom. She is quite a pretty picture.
“I know the cane is frightening, and I know this place is scary,” I tell her. “But you are here for a reason, and it will stop being such a frightening place once you accept your place.”
Swish!
The cane makes a perfect sound as it connects with the fleshiest part of her round cheeks. A bright red welt rises across both of them instantly, accompanied by a shocked gasp.
“Marcus!”
“Call me ‘Master’,” I tell her. Having laid the first stroke and felt the rush of satisfaction that accompanies giving a very deserving bottom what she deserves, I have to pace and contain myself. It would be so very easy to simply beat her. She deserves it, and more importantly, I would enjoy it.
Pain can be a beautiful thing, especially when it is given to someone whose flesh is so responsive and whose mind is so receptive.
She tries to get up of course, but it is a simple thing to push her back down, my hand between her shoulder blades. I hold her in place firmly and apply another stroke of the cane, an inch or so below the first.
Charlie
It hurts. I can tell he likes the fact that it hurts, too.
“Easy, pet,” he purrs. “Relax. Breathe.”
It hurts to breathe. Every time I inhale, it makes the cane lines flare into fresh life. I shiver as he raises that terrible implement again. I hear a short swish and then a sharp crack. Fresh pain ripples through me, a cold shock that leaves no part of me unaffected. This stroke is worse than either of the two before it, because it lands right at the very sensitive crevice where my cheeks meet my thighs.
“Fuck!” I curse at the top of my lungs and squirm as hard as I am capable of squirming. It does me no good. Marcus is much stronger than I am, and he is more than capable of keeping me in place.
“Let me go! You’re a psycho!”
“There’s my feisty pet,” he says. “Rediscovered your bravery, have you?”
It’s not bravery. It’s desperation. I don’t like being caned. I don’t like pain. I don’t like punishment. I’ve bitten off so much more than I can chew. I can’t believe I ever had the nerve to think I could walk into this man’s world and somehow survive. He is clearly going to ruin me in every way imaginable.
“Please let me go. I’m sorry I met you. I mean, I’m sorry…”
He gives a light chuckle. “Tongue-tied are we? Perhaps you should be tied in another way. That might help calm you…”
The sound I make when he says that is something between begging for mercy and cursing at the top of my lungs.
“Easy, pet,” he says, shifting his grasp to the back of my neck. It’s soothing, mostly because he’s stopped hitting me with the cane. “You’re more sensitive than I thought you would be after all that bravado today. Then again, I suppose you did run away after a little spanking. There’s no chance of repeating that today, is there?”
I whimper and squirm, three horrible hot lines still burning their way through my flesh. He is toying with me, enjoying how quickly I have given up. It is impossible to resist him.
“You’re hurting me. And you’re scaring me.”
“I know. You deserve to feel a little fear, and as for the pain, three strokes of this cane is nothing. You will take much more than that over time.”
“Well, I can’t, unless you want to end me completely,” I sniff. This little interlude of words is feeling like a real mercy. I am so sore, and I am very sorry for myself. I have been ripped out of my world and thrown into an alternate reality.
I may have always suspected that the ultra-rich play by their own rules and answer to nobody, but it is something else to discover that it is true, and that I am stuck in the middle of it.
“Such a dramatic little pet,” Marcus says, rubbing my scalp gently with the tips of his fingers. “I told you that I would make you regret your earlier behavior. Do you regret it yet?”