by Alice Dark
“I’m going to cane you tomorrow.” It was a simple statement, straight-forward and without undue emotion. She sits down beside me on the bed and gently rubs my bottom.
I open my eyes and stretch against her body, twisting until I am on her lap and able to look into her face. I wasn’t easy to get my body over her knees, and the wriggling that I’ve done to get into this position has left my pajamas in disarray; I am exposed from waist to mid-thigh. I am also still foggy with sleep, having just wakened at her touch upon my skin. I remember yet the glow of the evening before, when my was bottom bare and smacked hard. Even now, it feels well-spanked and rosy, a lovely blush that seems to spread across both cheeks, filling me with warmth.
I love looking up at her. Her dark eyes shuttered with long lashes, the curve of her lips in smile, the swell of her cheeks as looks down at me: these things give me peace and contentment. Yet her words seem to hang in the room. But it’s more than just the words – not just the sounds they make as the break through my morning haze. It’s the way she said them.
The words were simple and casual, as though she was announcing a lunch partner, or a trip to the mall.
But that’s not what she said. Rather, it was a pronouncement of a caning.
I knew better than to think otherwise. When she said that something would happen, that’s exactly what she meant. No hesitation. No forgotten plans. Tomorrow, I would be caned.
The fog cleared as questions dashed into my mind to take their place. Which cane would she choose? Would it be the long one, she had inherited from her father, or the rattan she’d recently purchased? How many strokes? How much would it hurt? Would I have to count aloud? Would I be over her knee, or over her desk? Would she cane me before breakfast? Before sleep? How much would it hurt? How much would it hurt? How much would it hurt?
I want to ask her these questions – all these and more. I want the answers to my fears, but realize my greatest fear is that I won’t be brave enough for the caning. That what I fear most of all, because I know that she’s doing this for me.
And yet, I see in her dark eyes, as the lashes flutter to hide and then reveal, that she knows my fears; knows each and every one of them. All of my fears and more. She will gather me and my questions to her breasts, and hold on tight. I’m safe with her. I know this. My questions fade away one by one, as I realize that she’ll never let anything bad happen to me. And knowing that answers all of my questions.
“All right,” I reply. My voice is soft, and I’m not sure I actually say the words.
She licks her lips and smiles down at me. I know that she’s heard me.
I roll over in her lap and close my eyes as she rubs my bottom again.
I shiver with the anticipation of tomorrow.
- Excerpt from “Misty’s Whipping at the Hands of Sister Mary” (bentalice.com)