The Cane

And then I saw the cane.

The cane that could only have one purpose.

The cane that could only have one intent.

The cane that was there to hurt and then pleasure me.

The cane that I had never thought about before.

The cane that there and then, I think, I began to fall in love with.

It seemed so right. It seemed to be perfect. It was what I'd been searching for. What I needed, what I wanted, what I so utterly desired. And to think I'd never really even thought about it before. Not until I saw the two feet of bamboo with a hooked end hanging from the table. Not until that moment did I realise the dormant need that had been lying there asleep in me. Not until the cane that Adrian had placed so cleverly was staring at me did I realise that it was my ultimate. My total desire. My one wish and need. I knew then looking at that cane that my life had from that moment intrinsically changed. That not Adrian or the other men that wanted to, and indeed had, fucked me, were my lovers. No that cane I felt would have a bearing on the rest of my life.

"Stand still for me Michaela. Just let me look at you" the still unseen Adrian said to me.

Hands clasped in front of me I did as he asked. Not speaking, standing perfectly still, dressed in the, on one hand, somewhat ludicrous get up yet, on the other, a provocatively sexual, outfit I waited. He took his time saying nothing and as far as I could tell not moving. It was a little unnerving to stand there simply being stared at by the man that was going to spank and smack me. I wondered what was going through his mind, what he was thinking about as he looked at me?. Looked at me clad in the clothes that combined the innocence of a young girl with experience of a woman. The pigtails of youth with the unfettered breasts of maturity. The blouse and skirt of the playground with the stockings and panties of the bedroom.

His inspection seemed to go on for ages and more and more now, I realised what he meant by his comments about the ritual.

"Well done Michaela, you look perfect" I heard him say, feeling rather than seeing, him move silently across the room so he was next to me.

I'd been a little concerned as to what his uniform would be. What the ceremonial garb was for the spanker as opposed to the spankee? I'd half thought he might blow it all for me by wearing something totally outrageous, like a mask, or cape or, heaven forbid, a leather thong. I'm pretty sure that had he worn any of those or anything too contrived, say a headmaster's gown and mortarboard, I'd have laughed and, despite the heightened state of arousal that the proceedings had so far caused for me, I'd be unable to continue. Although sexual acts can be fun I don't think they work when they become ridiculous.

So the long, dark red, silk dressing gown that Adrian was wearing was perfect. It had plunging lapels, so that a wide and deep expanse of his fairly hairy chest could be seen, with a tie round his waist. There were no buttons so a slight tug on that and it would open and his, I assumed, total nudity would be shown to me.

I smiled and murmured. "You don't look so bad yourself Adrian."

He didn't reply but slowly walked round me looking at me from all angles. His appearance and his gaze on me rekindled my arousal and as I stood there I could feel my nipples hardening. That's something that often I don't realise has happened until perhaps a man's staring will raise my suspicions sufficiently for me to glance down and see the two organ stop like lumps poking out from my swimsuit or whatever it is I'm wearing. This time, though, I was acutely aware that the thin, nearly see through, cotton blouse was struggling unsuccessfully to hide the eruption going on in my chest. I glanced down and the bumps were both larger and more obvious than I'd imagined and looking up I saw that Adrian was also staring at them.

"Michaela's having some naughty thoughts isn't she?" He asked.

"Er yes, yes she is." I replied.

"And young girls like Michaela shouldn't have such thoughts should they?"

"No, no Adrian they shouldn't" I heard myself replying as I slipped into the role of being a young girl. I hadn't for one moment thought that we'd get into a role-play and that was just as well for that was also something that I would have thought was just a little bit too silly. But it seemed to come so naturally and far from being ridiculous, adopting such a role seemed natural and was, I have to admit, exciting.

"No Michaela" he went on, his gaze roaming unrestrained all over my body sending even more tingles of desire through me. "Young girls shouldn't have naughty thoughts should they?"

"No Adrian they shouldn't."

"Because when they have naughty thoughts things happen to them don't they?"

"Yes, yes they do," I replied seeing quite clearly the silk robe moving as his erection grew.

"Things that are happening to you aren't they?"

"Yes."

"And what is happening to you Michaela? What is happening to your young girl's body?"

I didn't reply for a moment not sure what he wanted me to say.

"You can tell me Michaela, you can tell me anything" he went on standing so close I could smell the Dior aftershave I had bought him that weekend we went shopping together. Glancing down I could clearly see the outline of his hard cock under the thin material and it took a superhuman effort on my part to resist reaching out and grabbing it. I wanted to so badly, but thought it would probably mess up the ceremony!

"My nipples are getting hard" I said in a whisper now totally into the role-play.

"Are you wet as well Michaela?" he asked.

"Yes Adrian, yes I think I am" I responded not really knowing whether I was or not.

"And that's also very naughty isn't it?"

"Yes, yes it is."

"And when young girls are naughty they have to be punished. They have to be chastised and taught to be good, don't they Michaela?"

"Yes Adrian they do."

"And you've been very naughty with your thoughts and your breasts and your pussy haven't you?"

"I have."

"That means Michaela that you have to be punished. How should I punish you do you think?"

"I don't know, I've never been punished like this before."

"Then you should think deeper little girl and tell Adrian what you think he should do to help you and punish you at the same time."

I looked into his eyes, then meaningfully down to his crotch and then back into his eyes which were very alive and gleaming.

"I think you should spank me" I whispered to him.

"Where Michaela, where should I spank you?"

"On my bottom; you should spank me on my bottom."

His voice thick with arousal he said. "Yes, yes Michaela I will spank your bottom. Go and stand behind that chair.

I did as he said.

"Hold the back of it with both hands."

I did.

"Move backwards a little."

I shuffled back a foot or so.

"Now Michaela you have to bend forward."

I did.

"Further Michaela, further."

I leaned further forward just as I had in front of the mirror upstairs. To and then past forty five degrees.

"Further Michaela further."

I knew that from where he was standing behind me he'd now be able to see my stocking tops. As I obeyed his latest order and bent forward until my upper body was almost at ninety degrees to my lower body and legs, I knew that he'd be seeing the patch of skin above the stockings.

"Rest your head on your hands on the back of the chair Michaela."

As I did that I knew the short, kilt-like skirt would ride further up my legs. He'd now be able to see all of my straightened, slightly parted legs, the seamed, white lacy topped stockings, the skin above them and, probably the lower part of my bottom clad in the pink, net panties that probably now were soaked.

Again he made me wait. Again he said nothing. Again he walked round me inspecting my body from all angles. And again my body and mind were consumed by sexual sensations, thoughts and expectancy.

As he walked past my face I could see the outline of his erection, which really was like the proverbial flagpole under the silk dressing gown. As he moved so the edges of the robe would open and I'd see expanses of his bare legs. As he stood before me I saw that the waist of the robe had loosened a little under the tie and the lapels were wider apart showing more of his chest.

The waiting, the anticipation, Adrian staring at my legs and bottom and me looking at him combined marvellously to arouse me to a level I'd don't think I'd been at before, without at least being touched. But still Adrian hadn't touched me. And that I guessed was also part of the ritual. He knew what I wanted and knew that making me wait would make me want it even more. And he was absolutely correct.

Naturally, since we'd agreed to do this a few days ago, I'd had some doubts and concerns. Getting ready and travelling here I hadn't been totally sure about it. And when changing into the young girl's clothes and taking on that role in this dimly lit basement room there was, inevitably I think, some trepidation. After all it was a very big step. But everything he'd done so far, all the deeds and the words gave me more and more assurance that what I'd agreed to was right for me.

I was starting to appreciate all the trappings. The slow build up. The stripping away, albeit only temporarily, of my own personality, even my age. The staring and the lack of fervid activity. The way the cane hung from the table. The gradual exposure of the epicentre of what this was all about, my bottom, and the way he so evidently displayed his appreciation to me. They were all details. Small parts of the whole thing. Small maybe but each in their way essential to the performance we were enacting.

And then another action that was small in some ways but gargantuan in others took place.

Adrian stood behind and just to one side of me. He stood very close, almost touching my hip. Almost but not quite. I couldn't see what he was doing but then I felt the lightest of pressure on the short skirt. The gentlest of touches that was almost imperceptible. But without doubt I knew that he was touching the skirt. And then I felt it being lifted. Felt it by the weight being lifted from my bottom and by the very slight touch of the cool air on the backs of my thighs.

I'm not at all sure that I have the composing and describing skills to put into words what I felt. What I felt as I realised for sure he was lifting my skirt up and away from my bum. As he lifted it then pulled it over the curves of my bottom. As he rolled it up so it was bunched round my waist. As he exposed my bottom to his gaze. My bottom that was covered in just the tight, diaphanous material. The pink, see through net panties. The gossamer like knickers that I knew hid nothing of me at all.

I could feel the thudding of my heart, the racing of my pulses and the panting of my breathing as I knew his gaze would be taking in every detail.

The waistband of the panties that ran from hip to hip. The thin skirt bunched above that. The stretched material showing the deep crevice between my slightly opened cheeks. And of course the plumpness of my blood engorged lips that would be glistening with my female secretions. All of my most private and personal places were under his scrutiny. The merest touch, a slight more excitement, a gesture or a light caress would have been enough to have made me cum, so emotionally aroused was I playing my full part in the ceremony.

But of course he knew exactly what he was doing. After all he'd written the script. So he didn't touch or caress me but once more made me wait as he stared. It really is the most excruciatingly pleasurable, but at the same time, enormously frustrating thing. To be wanting something to happen and to know that it's going to, but for it to be continually delayed. It was so atmosphere building, so mood creating and so integral to everything else that I realised it was the perfect way to prepare me.

I jumped with surprise when he spoke. It seemed to have been ages since either of us had said anything. But then we'd both got so many other things on our minds that there wasn't room for talking as well. So the words would have been a surprise in any case. They'd have given me a jolt what ever they were. But when I heard him calmly and slowly though a little hoarsely say.

"I'm going to pull your panties down Michaela," I nearly fainted with the surge of sexual excitement that gave me.

"Oh my God," I gasped. "Yes Adrian, yes."

"Yes Adrian what?" He asked his fingers sliding just inside the elastic of the waist band.

"Take my panties down, please Adrian take them down," I heard myself pleading, even though I could hardly believe what I was saying.

"Yes Michaela your panties have to come down so I can spank your bare bottom, don't they?"

"Yes, oh yes," I groaned as I felt him slowly rolling them down.

Rolling them down the flat part of the back of my waist, over the bulbousness of my hips, and onto and then over the roundness of the cheeks of my bottom. They were half way down my cheeks meaning that half the crease between them would now be bared meaning that the entrance to my anus would also be bare. I was shivering with expectancy, sexual desire and the anticipation of my first spanking.

"You have a glorious arse Michaela," he said as he ran his fingertips over it. "Just think how beautiful it will be when I've spanked it and it's all warm and stinging and, of course, red. Can you imagine it Michaela?"

"Yes Adrian I can."

He stroked and softly caressed all over each cheek running his fingers between them, hovering by and then pressing fairly firmly right on my bum hole. That made me grunt and I squirmed a little fearing he was going to slip his finger inside me. I didn't want that, it would just be too much and would, without doubt, make me cum.

He tugged them a little more so that the waist band was now beneath the bottom of each cheek a little way down my thighs. I could feel the gusset sticking to me and knew that the wetness would cause that. I also knew that now everything I had was exposed to his wonderfully lustful gaze.

I visualised the view he had of me.

My opened legs in the white, lacy-topped, seamed stockings. My breasts were hanging down, their weight pressing the meaty flesh against the thin, worn cotton. The plaid skirt bunched around my waist and my body bent at ninety degrees at the waist. My bum, my cheeks, my anal entry and my wet lips were all there for him to see.

"It's time Michaela," he said slowly and quietly sending a chill through me. I was scared yet so excited as he went on. "Stand up, but make sure your panties stay exactly where they are."

I did as he asked not understanding why he wanted the panties to be half way down my thighs, as opposed to off my legs completely. He walked round the chair and sat on it. Signalling to me to stand next to him he said very thickly.

"Lie across my knees Michaela, I need you across my lap."

I looked from his face to the bulge in his dressing gown that was now almost open and then to his lap. I had thought he'd have started spanking me when I was standing up bent over but then I saw that being "put across his knee" was all part of the process, the ritual and the ceremony.

Almost kneeling and resting my hand on his silk covered leg to help me balance I lowered myself down across his lap. His knees pressed into my waist just beneath my breasts, although the side of the uppermost leg, his left, was pressing into the bottoms of them. I reached one of my arms out before me and downwards and managed to grip the leg of the chair just as once more he went through the slow motion movement of raising my skirt up to bare my bottom. We were so near now. I knew it and he did as well. I could feel the tension in both our bodies as he again stroked my buttocks sending shudders of pleasure and excitement through me. My bottom has always been fairly sensitive but I'd never realised just how much until now.

There was no warning. He gave no hint. There was no sign that we had begun. There was no indication that my "punishment" was underway. He didn't tell me that he was going to smack me. He did nothing to warn me that he was starting to spank me. I didn't hear anything and of course I couldn't see or feel anything.

Again it was the sound that made the most immediate impact on me. Thwack, I heard, before I felt anything. Smack rang in my ear before any feelings. He hit me twice in quick succession once on each cheek.

I was still hearing the sounds of the two smacks when he stopped and gently ran his fingertips over where the blows had landed. As the stinging started, so he rubbed each cheek a little harder. As he did that, so the relatively modest pain coincided with the rather nice sensations his hands were producing on my bottom. I was just getting used to his caresses when again, with no warning, I heard the thwack and felt the pain. It was a little more acute this time. There was also more smacks, five, six, seven, I counted. And I felt that they were harder, firmer and quicker.

They made me cry out with pain. I squirmed on his lap. I moaned and grunted as the smacks landed all over my cheeks and the tops of my thighs.

It seemed as though he was carefully deciding where to hit me, for by now every part of my buttocks had been smacked. I was hurting, everywhere was burning and stinging, I was in pain and beginning to worry that corporal punishment was not for me. I thought that I might start to cry. There was no pleasure, I was starting to think, just discomfort.

But then, just as a few sobs escaped from my lips, he stopped. Again I felt his hands so gently and softly running over the places where he'd just been spanking me. The combination of the sensations I'd been gaining from being hurt with those he was now giving were unique in my experience. Heat, softness, stinging, tenderness, pain, excitement, anticipation, concern, thanks, trust and pleasure were all rushing through me. I'd never experienced so many differing emotions and sensations at the same time.

I was now squirming and moving my body for other reasons. For reasons that were all to do with arousal, and strong sexual arousal at that. But the sexual arousal was not merely coming from his fingers that were softly roaming all over my bottom. No, I wasn't becoming hugely turned on just by his caresses. It was also, actually mostly I think, the thrills I'd got from the spanking. The emotions I felt from being under his control. The sensations I gained from being held captive-like over his lap together with the fervid anticipation of more to come. Yes, all that combined with his sublimely, tender touch, were building up and up and up.

The rather orderly position we'd started in had changed. His legs had opened and the gown had fallen away from them. My squirming and movements had flipped some of the buttons undone on the blouse. His caresses were no longer being restricted to my thighs and bottom but were now covering my back and neck and head as well. He'd pushed the blouse up at the back so that was bunched around my shoulders. My left side, just above my waist, was pressed firmly against his erection or, I suddenly thought, was his erection pressed firmly against my side? And one of my breasts had slipped out from the blouse.

More blows, more thwacks, more smacks and spanks. More stinging and warmth, more pain and tingling. More caresses, more excitement, more anticipation and yet even more pleasure.

His gown had fallen open. My breasts were dangling down alongside his leg the naked skin of both rubbing together. His penis was bare. It was rock hard, hot and pressed against me just beneath my boobs. It felt glorious and I squirmed eagerly against it.

Alternating the cheeks and the positions on my bottom that he smacked, Adrian continued my induction into corporal punishment in the most wonderful way for some time. Ten minutes, twenty or half an hour? I had no idea. Time along with everything else other than the magnificence of the feelings and the sensations ceased to exist.