The third and final instalment of this story. Now there will be some caning. Quite brutal, I must say, maybe a little too brutal but I got a little carried away whilst writing it.
She froze as she felt the cane being placed against her buttocks. It was strangely cold and she was amazed how shapeless it felt. She could hardly sense it. It felt like an odd presence more than anything.
Without a word he removed the cane. She knew it was time. She knew he was going to hit her. She was amazed how calm she felt, how matter of factly she thought about it. She didn't notice that her heart was beating hard. She imagined herself calm.
She heard the hissing sound of the cane through the air quickly followed by a sharp report, like a gunshot, like something very sharp and dangerous. A sound that didn't, really, remind her of soft skin.
The pain was excruciating. It made her body tense, as if a bolt of lightning had travelled through her body and tensed all her muscles. She held her breath, not comprehending the immensity of the sensation.
She was utterly in shock. She could not imagine something hurting like that. She squirmed and tried to gather her thoughts. She started to breathe as she felt how numbness gave way to a burning pain, a hot band across her buttocks.
So this is what it was like being punished. Her head felt dizzy. She draw her breath and froze again as she realised that there was another one coming. She was to be hit again and her whole being protested. She couldn't understand how it was possible for her body to endure another of those whacks.
Then the hissing sound and the sharp report. She cried out this time. It was as if the brutality of the cane forced a scream over her lips. It felt good to cry out as the pain made its way to her brain.
The third whack brought tears to her eyes and she screamed again. She squirmed as she tried to cope with that she couldn't cope with. She wanted to run, to turn away and just flee. She couldn't. She felt as if she was tied to the armchair. She had no choice. She was at his mercy.
'Please!' she heard herself plead. That was all she could do. She was helpless.
When he hit her the fourth time she was crying and squirming, overcome by the humiliation of this pain being inflicted deliberately. She cried in agony as she knew he hit her only to make her suffer. He wanted this. He hit her with the cane and wanted her to suffer.
She felt no hate. She felt only humiliation. She cried out as the fifth stroke hit her naked skin and left a burning band of pain on her buttocks.
She cried like a baby as he caned her. Time and again did his sturdy cane hit her soft and tender skin and she could do nothing but scream and cry. She was helpless and powerless as he whipped her.
He waited between the whacks. He let her compose herself just enough to feel the next one with full force. He kept her on the verge of collapse, almost breaking her down but she seemed always to be able to take another breath and endure another hit with the cane.
The relentless whipping of her naked bottom was grinding her down. She lost count, she lost track of time. She only lived to endure the next stroke. She didn't think any more. She just felt the pain, the searing pain that seemed to drive the screaming voices in her head away, all of them but one, the low murmuring voice of red desire. That voice grew stronger.
Then it was over. She didn't realise it at first. She drew her breath and waited but there was no more caning. She took another breath and she knew that he had stopped. She felt the sweat on her body. She felt the relief of no more new pain. She didn't dare to hope it was over.
'You may rise now!' he said.
She heard his voice as if it was coming from a distance. She didn't comply immediately. She drew some deep breaths, composing herself. Her head was empty.
'I have been punished,' she said. Her words seemed strange.
As she rose to her feet she felt the armrest against her lower belly and felt how she had been grinding her body against it. She felt the warmth from it and blushed as she felt how aroused she was.
She got to her feet and looked at him. She looked at him and felt how naked she was. She wanted him to touch her, to comfort her. She knew she could cry on his shoulder. She had been crying but of pain. Now she wanted to cry because it was over.
He didn't comfort her and she knew it was not for him to comfort her. He had punished her. That was what he had to do.
He left the room without a word and she was left on her own. She felt naked and was overcome with a sudden desire to put her clothes back on. She wondered if she should ask him. She didn't.
She took her clothes from the table and dressed. She dressed quickly, eagerly, wanting to be on her way before he came back into the room. She was clumsy and almost started to cry because it was so hard to dress.
He didn't come back and she didn't see him again. As she stumbled out into the deserted street she wasn't sure what had happened was real. She put her hand under her skirt and felt her buttocks. The welts were real and the pain was real and the heat she felt was real.
She walked slowly back to the pub. The cool night air made her thoughts a little clearer. She wanted to go home but she had to see some familiar faces and hoped her friends were still in the pub.
She had to put on a brave face as she met them and she felt she was succeeding. They knew something had happened but they also knew she didn't want to talk about it. They asked her about the man, who he was. She just shook her head. They said that they had never seen him before and wondered if he was one of her friends. She shook her head and they knew she didn't want to talk about it.
She sat in silence, happy to be among her friends, disregarding the worry that was on their faces. She didn't care. She could not explain. They would not understand. She felt that they could wonder. She didn't care. She knew she was changed. She knew she had been shocked.