November 6, 2013

The List 2: Caning

Posted in stories tagged , , at 7:05 am by littlesubmissions

This story starts here:

The First Part of The List

He was waiting for her in the bedroom, naked, sitting on the bed with his feet outstretched. She nodded in approval at the towel under his ass, and the cane in his hands.

“You don’t like the cane much do you?”

He shook his head. “No ma’am.”

She shrugged. “No point in warmup then. I think I’ll do one foot, then the other. That way it can last a little longer.”

He grimaced and she slammed the cane into the sole of his left foot, watching the meat and skin distort with the force of the blow. His leg jerked, the force traveling up his body in a spasm. He exhaled sharply, forcing the air out of his lungs, trying to breathe through the searing flash of pain that erupted in his foot.

She felt a sudden warmth travel through her, and her eyes slid half closed as she watched the pain travel through him. “Do you want to count them, or should I?” She pitched her voice several octaves higher, and tilted her head to the side. “Because I’m such a silly billy sadist, I might make a mistake.”

“One!” He breathed in and clenched his fists. “One ma’am.”

She nodded. “Smart boy.” Then she hit him again.

His body jerked and his breath rushed out of him, more pain erupting in his foot and traveling along every nerve ending in his body to his brain. Somewhere in his chocking pain he croaked out, “Two, ma’am.”

She pushed him as hard as she could, her own excitement building, barely letting him recover before hitting him again. The cane whipped through the air, the sound a charming prelude to his sounds of torture. The meaty slap as it hit his flesh, the shock that coursed back through the cane and down her arm to some place deep inside her, the sound of him counting out the strokes.

“Three, ma’am.”

The cane slashed through the air, and his body jerked again. “Four ma’am!” The pain started to pile up faster than he could deal with it. “Five ma’am!” He wasn’t trying to breathe through the pain anymore, just to breathe. “Six ma’am!” His body jerked further and harder with each stroke, and her breaths got faster. “Seven, ma’am!” His hands were balled into fists, holding tight to the towel, and she could feel her fingers itching to play with her cunt. “Eight, ma’am!” His eyes were clamped shut, trying to block out the pain, and she licked her lips at the sight of his contorted face. “Nine, ma’am.” He was holding his leg down with his hands now, forcing it to stay flat on the bed, and her thighs were trembling at the sight of how hard it was for him to submit to this torture for her. “Ten, ma’am, fuck!” The last blow bounced off his foot, ten angry red lines across the bottom of his left foot. She loved the contrast, the sight of the horizontal streaks on his skin. She wanted to run her tongue across them, to taste and feel the broken skin and popped blood vessels.

She exhaled sharply, and smiled at him. “Good boy. I’m very proud of you.” She watched him rock back and forth slightly, looked at his still clamped shut eyes and his posture. He needed a break. For that matter, she needed to get herself a little more under control as well. “Go get the black marker from the dresser.”

He nodded and slid off the end of the bed. She watched him hobble over to the dresser, favoring one foot, hopping slightly each time it hit the floor. She slid the cane through her hands, itching to make his other foot match, to restore symmetry to him. He hobbled back, wincing with each step, and held out the marker. She shook her head. “Oh no, that’s for you. I want you to write what your foot is for on your foot, the top I think, and then we’ll start on the right.”

He nodded then sat back on the bed and pulled his foot up to himself, sitting half cross-legged. He pulled the lid off the marker, and awkwardly scrawled “For caning” on the top of his foot in blocky, jagged letters. His hands still trembled slightly in pain, and her fingers twitched in pleasure. He put the lid back on the marker, and set it down on the bed, then looked up at her expectantly.

She grinned back, and stepped to the side, lining up her body to start working over his right foot. The cane smacked into him, and he started counting again. It happened faster this time, both of them were closer to the edge, more eager to get there. The initial doubts and hesitations, the uncertainties about whether they were in the mood for this sort of thing, if they’d be able to connect, if there were too many other things going on had disappeared.

She inflicted pain on him, and it reflected back onto her as pleasure. He saw her pleasure, and it made him want more pain. His hands still held his leg down, his body jerked and spasmed and complained regardless of what his mind wanted. Nerve endings frayed and fired, and he began to sweat. She swallowed hard, almost drooling at the sight of him suffering, and forced herself to set a deliberate pace and not just hit him as hard and quick as she could. To let the pleasure build rather then gorge herself on it all at once and swallow it as fast she could, let it run down her chin and splash on her tits.

“Ten, ma’am!” He counted out the last stroke, and her breathing was as hard and fast as his. She waited for his eyes to flutter open, and pointed at the marker. “Write it down.” She tried to think of a way to make it funny, to add a joke or a comment, but all she could think of was the wonderful feelings bouncing around her body and mind.

His hand shook as he scrawled out the big, block letters on his other foot. She nodded when he was done, and thought about the list. “Next is crawling, I believe.” She chuckled then, and smiled. “Maybe you’re smarter than I thought.” One eyebrow bounced up. “Or maybe not.”

Preview: The List 3: Crawling

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: