He Called Her Back To Feel The Pain Of That Cane For A Reason Only They'd Understand

Anonymous Anonymous in Dirty Picture on 15 April, 2020

Read first part here

"Put down your trousers and underpants, Cyrus," she commanded firmly. "Oh...surely not," he pleaded, "That's not right! You can't expect.." "Always on the bare, Cyrus. Always on the bare," she said patiently, "There's no other way. Now take them down at once or I will double the number of strokes. "Whimpering with fear and humiliation, Cyrus slowly undid his trousers and allowed them to drop to the floor, then, with his face now glowing an even brighter red, he eased down his underpants.

"Now bend right over the desk," she said quietly, placing the long cane across his back to encourage him. Hesitantly, Cyrus leaned forward, excruciatingly aware of the sight his bare bottom would present to this elegant lady. With all his weight on the desk, he had never felt more exposed in his life. The warm air on his bottom only adding to his feeling of exposure and humiliation. "I do so like an unblemished, white bottom to cane," she purred as she looked down at his offered buttocks. "Tell me, Cyrus, have you been caned before?" "No Miss," he whispered. "Excellent. This will be fun then. The cane hurts so very much more then you might imagine, Cyrus. I do love to observe the reaction of a first caning. Perhaps we'd better make sure you stay in place."


From somewhere, she produced a coil of rope, and before Cyrus had grasped what was happening, she had secured his wrists to a heavy brass drawer handle on the far side of the heavy oak desk. "Now, twenty-six strokes I think we agreed." Cyrus couldn't believe what was happening to him. He felt the cane tapping gently across the center of his bared bottom cheeks. He had no idea what to expect, but he was dismayed that even these gentle taps stung unpleasantly. He screwed his face up in dread in anticipation of something considerably more painful with - CRACK! Nothing, but nothing could have prepared him for the excruciating agony as Miss Seema brought the cane down with amazing force to bite deeply into his virgin white flesh. His whole body tensed in shock and disbelief at the ferocity of the stroke and the intensity of the line of fire that erupted deep in the flesh of his bottom.

As he hissed in a lungful of air, he clung to the thought that she must have made a mistake, she hadn't meant to cane him so savagely. SWISH - CRACK! Stroke two confirmed it had been no mistake - it was even harder. Cyrus shrieked in agony and began to struggle. SWISH - CRACK! Agony overlaid agony. It was more than he could stand. The pain was at a level that was beyond his ability to comprehend. He was writhing and screaming now. His legs were weaving around in a frenzy, but his wrists were held firm as the cane continued to find its mark, again and again, biting ever deeper into the writhing buttocks.

Miss Seema's face was a picture of determination and concentration as she wielded the cane with merciless venom. At twelve strokes, Miss Seema paused for a break and took a seat behind Cyrus to enjoy watching the weals mature across his squirming buttocks. "I beg you, Miss, no more, please, I beg you, I can't take any more." She smiled at his pathetic pleading. "But we're not even halfway through, Cyrus," she said, cheerfully. "I'll come back another time to take the rest. I promise, but I can't take any more now, please Miss."She stood, then walked up to stand behind him, then gently traced a finger across the lattice of angry weals that covered his bottom. "You do look rather sore," she said after a few moments, as her hand continued to caress his blazing bottom.

"If I did agree to postpone the remainder I would need to be quite sure that you would return." "You can keep my money until I do," he replied at once, desperate to say anything to avoid any more strokes of the cane biting into his burning, throbbing bottom. "Very well, I think I can agree to that," she said after some thought. She took her hand away from his bottom and picked up the cane again. "But I think I'll add four strokes for the inconvenience. Better get them out of the way now."



Before Cyrus realized what was happening, the agony erupted with increased intensity across his bottom and the room filled with screams. Miss Seema sat down with a sparkle in her eye, flushed with excitement and a smile on her face, as she waited for the screaming and writhing to subside. She eventually released him and he rose unsteadily to his feet. He was erect.

"I expect you back within two weeks," she said, "And if you take your caning well I may do something about this." She gave his erection a gentle tap with the end of her cane.

With a shaking hand, he picked up the phone and punched in the number. Sweat stood out on his forehead as he listened to the phone at the other end ring. He whimpered as his call was answered.

"Hello, Miss Seema. It's Cyrus. I'd like to come back to receive the remainder." "But it's been only three days, Cyrus. You must still be very sore." "I am, but I still want to come." "You do realize that it will be very, very, painful," she said sincerely, leaving him in no doubt that she meant it, "I intend to cane you very hard, Cyrus, very hard."


There was a long, long pause, before Cyrus answered in a whisper, "That's what I need, Miss." There was another long pause before she answered quietly, "Then I shall make sure it is, Cyrus. Come here at once. I want you here in ten minutes and I will add an extra stroke for each minute you are late." "Is that a promise?" he found himself saying. "That's a promise," she whispered.

The line went dead. Cyrus took off his watch and put it down on the table in front of him. He spent fifteen minutes watching the minute hand as it slowly traced an arc around the watch face, then he strapped it back on his wrist and rose from his chair. He decided to walk to the "Wood End House".

It would take longer than driving, but he knew she wouldn't mind him being late. As he set off on foot at a leisurely pace, Miss Seema looked at the wall clock in her study. She ran her tongue over her lip, then picked up the cane she had just placed on the old oak desk. It was the cane she had used on him three days before. She put it back in the cupboard then removed another cane.

This one was longer, darker, and because it was made of a denser wood, much heavier. She swished it through the air a few times, then placed it on the oak desk, next to the rope - two coils this time, as she didn't want his legs thrashing around so much.

Ten minutes later, she looked at the clock again and smiled. "Oh, Cyrus... Cyrus.... You really have no idea what you are in for," she said quietly to herself, as she settled back in her chair to watch the minute hand of the clock steadily add to the number of strokes she would soon apply to his bare bottom.