Apparently good girls get caned. I was very polite with him, yet he pushed me down onto the bed, rubbing his filthy hands roughly against my ass. I wiggled, and whimpered but he drew his hand back and laid it upon my ass hard! I gasped, I wasn’t ready, but he didn’t care. He struck me again and I wriggled against His hand as he held my thigh against his groin. I could feel hard cock rubbing against my left thigh through His khaki slacks.
My ass grew red as he continued his attack on my soft, plump cheeks. I cried out, sobbed, but nothing would stop him! Then he took it out, from his bag of tricks. It was the cane. I was terrified, I attempted to get away, clawing at the sheets. He laid the horrid piece of wood across my ass cheeks. I knew at that moment, whether I wanted it or not that I had to lay still and take it. His first few were light, working me up, to the searing pain that I knew would come at any second. The first hard stroke made me gasp, my body still under the strike of his cane.
I could barely understand my reaction. I wanted more. I wanted more strokes, harder, and faster. I grew giddy and giggly as he continued to thrash my pale white ass into a frenzy of pink stripes. His hand grew steady against the back of my neck as he snapped the cane against my flesh. I moaned, arching my back. He gave me 10 good swats and then changed sides to continue his warfare on my body. I cried out “I’m not ready!” the idea of enduring any more without his coaxing hand on my ass, rubbing the pain away, was enough to instill fear deep in my soul. I began to cry. I just couldn’t stop, I was sobbing. That little bit of fear had broken me, I wondered what something stronger would do…
My ass grew red as he continued his attack on my soft, plump cheeks. I cried out, sobbed, but nothing would stop him! Then he took it out, from his bag of tricks. It was the cane. I was terrified, I attempted to get away, clawing at the sheets. He laid the horrid piece of wood across my ass cheeks. I knew at that moment, whether I wanted it or not that I had to lay still and take it. His first few were light, working me up, to the searing pain that I knew would come at any second. The first hard stroke made me gasp, my body still under the strike of his cane.
I could barely understand my reaction. I wanted more. I wanted more strokes, harder, and faster. I grew giddy and giggly as he continued to thrash my pale white ass into a frenzy of pink stripes. His hand grew steady against the back of my neck as he snapped the cane against my flesh. I moaned, arching my back. He gave me 10 good swats and then changed sides to continue his warfare on my body. I cried out “I’m not ready!” the idea of enduring any more without his coaxing hand on my ass, rubbing the pain away, was enough to instill fear deep in my soul. I began to cry. I just couldn’t stop, I was sobbing. That little bit of fear had broken me, I wondered what something stronger would do…
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