“Go to the room and get ready,” Dom ordered.
“Yes, Master,” Joan said and hurried up the stairs. Dom watched her as she walked away, wondering how she would handle the punishment he had in mind. She came to him a week ago with the request. Joan explained that she wanted a punishment — needed it — but she didn’t want to know beforehand what would happen. Dom was to decide what he would do. They discussed what things were absolute hard limits, but for the rest Joan left all possibilities open.
Dom took a last sip of his cold drink and then followed Joan upstairs. He put the cuffs around her wrists and ankles and had her lean over the old gymnastics vault. The cuffs were attached to the four legs of the vault, but it left Joan with more than enough freedom to move. Her feet were spread far enough apart for Dom to have a clear view on her pussy, which seemed slightly wet.
He turned around to the equipment and chose the ‘soft’ can, for as far as that existed. This was one where he could hit her quite hard without marking her too much. He wanted her to be able to sit the next day.
Joan had no idea which implement he would use. Dom stood behind her and looked at her pussy and her sensual ass opening just above it, clearly visible between her buttocks. He turned his attention to the roundness of her buttocks, and took a step back.
The first stroke came down hard on Joan’s buttocks. A hellish cry of pain echoed and Joan jumped up, pulling on her restraints. Dom allowed the pain to sink in before he struck again. Again Joan cried out and fought her restraints. From the sixth stroke Joan couldn’t stop moaning and screaming and fighting anymore. Her body twisted and turned in every possible direction as her body tried to consume the pain.
After the tenth stroke, Dom stopped. They were halfway through the punishment. Ten pinkish lines decorated Joan’s bottom. His eyes followed the line between her buttocks, pass her asshole and down to her dripping wet slit. He dropped his pants, put on a condom, stood behind her and pushed right into her wetness, fucking her almost as hard as he had struck her. The pain still had her body in its grip, and prevented her from climaxing.
When he was done, he took the cane and continued her punishment. The same scene as before the fucking was now repeated. His carefully administered strokes and Joan’s screaming and crying and the writhing of her body. Every time he struck her, every time she screamed, a trickle of his sperm ran from her pussy. Dom enjoyed the sight.
The twentieth and last stroke was harder than all the rest and Joan’s reaction was predictable. She screamed, her voice hoarse. She kept on crying and jumping. Some moments she stopped to catch her breath. Joan didn’t know that Dom was done. Her body tensed when he put on another condom and entered her again.
When he stopped fucking her, he stood behind her and watched as her body tensed and readied itself for a new series of cane strokes. She was crying; the floor wet from her tears. The moment Dom untied her from the vault, Joan started crying uncontrollably from a combination of relief and nerves racing through her body.
“I am proud of you!”
These words just caused her to cry harder. Dom stroke her hair and pulled her towards the couch. She stumbled with him, her legs weak, and he had to support her. In front of the couch he gently lowered her to the floor.
“You can play with yourself if you want.”
“Thank you, Master,” she said, almost inaudibly.
She stayed on the floor in a fetal position for almost fifteen minutes, before Dom saw her hand carefully moving to her cunt. Slowly she started masturbating. She was quiet at first, but soon her moans were that of the pleasure of touch, and not the pain of the caning. Her moans got louder, and exploded into her body’s orgasm.
Panting, she lay on the floor. Moments later she looked at Dom. He smiled, and watched as her hand disappeared between her legs again.
© Rebel’s Notes