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Apparently far too slowly as Thorne squawked, “I don’t have all day; bare your bottoms immediately!” The twins jerked but obeyed, parting their bloomers until four bare little buttocks were exposed to the light of the room.
Edward was once again amazed to discover that their similarity extended to their petite bottoms. If he had just walked into the room and wasn’t aware of which side of the settee his wife occupied, he would be unable to ascertain which beautiful posterior belonged to whom. With their preparation almost complete, the girls lowered their hands to the settee, though he noticed they each again took hold of the other’s as if to give each other support.
“You shall have a dozen each unless, of course, you foolishly break position.” Sobs sounded as the sentence was spoken and further shame colored their faces as the headmaster gave them further instruction. “Ladies, neither of you are strangers to the proper position for a well-deserved caning. I want you to show your admittance of guilt by lifting your bottoms well up for the cane.”
Lucy broke down first, her sobs choking her throat as tears streamed down her face.
Edward watched as the headmaster made his decision in who would be put under the rod first. Obviously enjoying the sound of Lucy’s fear, Thorn stepped to Louisa’s left and raised the cane.
Edward found he agreed with the man, though most likely for a different reason. Edward had no wish for either woman to truly fear him or had any desire to break their spirits. He didn’t consider himself an unkind man though he would describe himself as a stern one. He was absolutely immoveable in his belief that disrespect, blatant disobedience and deceit would be punished each and every time it was chosen. But, though both women were indeed guilty, he had no doubt as to which one had hatched the plan. He concurred that it would be far more effective if Lucille had to listen to her sister receiving her strokes and be made to consider her own punishment for the longest time possible.
Edward was well-pleased to see his small wife take a deep breath to both calm and prepare herself. He watched as she arched her back and pushed her unmarked, pale bottom high into the air, signaling her readiness for the first awful stroke. Edward wondered if she was even aware of how far she had come under his tutelage since their wedding.
She further pleased him when she spoke, only a small quiver in her voice betraying her lack of composure. “Forgive me for my disobedience, headmaster. I admit my guilt and I am ready to submit to my punishment.”
If Thorne was surprised at her formal words, he contained it fairly well. He glanced from her bare bottom to Lord Wintercrest. Edward didn’t smile or speak; he saw no need to inform the man that his wife might well have left the school behind but she had continued her lessons with him as her sole professor. The only acknowledgement he gave the man was a slight nod.
Thorne didn’t prolong Louisa’s wait. He measured the distance by tapping her upturned bottom twice before drawing back his arm. The thin cane landed with a sharp crack, flexing to wrap around her beautifully rounded rump as if wishing to caress as much surface as possible. Louisa yelped but didn’t move out of position even as the second stroke landed a fraction of an inch below the first.
Edward watched as Lucy flinched each time the cane cut into her sister’s bottom, the sound sharp and crisp in the room. It wasn’t until the sixth stroke had painted its line of fire across his wife’s posterior that Louisa began to beg.
“Please… oh, no… please!” Tears slid down her face as she straightened slightly, tucking her bottom in, her feet shuffling as she tried to avoid the cane.
“Back into position and present your bottom properly, Louisa.”
Her little dance instantly stopped, her sobs increasing when she realized it was her own husband giving her the order. When Edward’s keen eyes saw her inner thighs clench, his curiosity was piqued. Could just the sound of his displeasure as he gave his instruction cause her body to react regardless of the fact that she was standing not in their home, but in another’s office? It was definitely something he wished to explore, but that could wait. His little lady had more to endure.
“Be still, and push that naughty bottom out, or would you prefer I ask Headmaster Thorne to begin anew?”
“No! I-I mean, no, please, sir. I’m-I’m sorry.”
Edward was sure she was. She knew that he wouldn’t hesitate to make good his threat. Past experience had taught her that Edward never failed to enforce any discipline he deemed necessary.
“Then obey me and raise your bum up to accept your strokes and be grateful for the lesson.”
He watched her obey, lifting her bottom higher. Knowing pain was but a part of the lesson and wishing to assure it was one she’d not forget, he said, “Stop clenching, Louisa. Relax your buttocks. Apologize and ask Headmaster Thorne for an extra to remind you to stay in position.”
Louisa sobbed, stuttering, “I’m s-sorry, Headmaster Thorne. Please may-may I have an ex-extra stroke?”
“Certainly, Lady Wintercrest,” Thorne answered, his arm already lifting. The caning continued, and the moans turned into deep sobs, as line after line appeared across the previously porcelain skin of her uplifted bottom. Once a dozen individual weals were raised in remarkably evenly spaced lines, he said, “This last shall require great fortitude from you, Lady Wintercrest. Although you are no longer truly a student in my school, consider this as a necessary reminder to teach you to obey the authority of your husband.” With that warning, he stepped back a bit, lifted his arm and gave her the hardest stroke of all.
Louisa’s head reared back, her mouth open and yet Edward knew she’d lost her breath as total silence descended, time hanging suspended for a long moment. Finally, with a scream, the quiet was shattered as her mind registered the intense pain of the last, extra stroke crossing diagonally across the previous twelve. Her knees buckled, and Edward felt pride when she refused to fall, pushing up, lifting her well-thrashed bottom as high as she could.
He eyed Thorne’s handiwork painted across his wife’s bottom, and had to give the man credit for his ability to discipline a young woman properly. There was no overlapping of weals—not counting the darker diagonal line she had earned as her extra. Twelve red lines marched in a perfect row down her arse, each one broken only by the cleft of her bottom. It truly was a job very well executed.
His gaze shifted to his ward as Thorne moved to stand beside Lucy. Her bottom was no longer the mirror image of her twin’s, but Edward knew that would soon change as he watched the headmaster roll the cane across the pale, unmarked canvas. He saw Lucille cringe away from the touch of the implement and couldn’t exactly fault the young woman. He hadn’t been caned since he was a lad, but one never forgot how each weal felt like it was burning ever deeper into one’s skin all the way down to the bone.
“You would do well to learn from your sister, Miss Furniss. She admitted her crime and gracefully accepted the need for a proper chastisement. Surely you can do the same?”
Lucille didn’t speak, only gave a strangled whimper, her braids swinging from side to side as she shook her head. Thorne sighed deeply and looked to Edward.
Edward smiled and spoke softly, “I am afraid that Lucille hasn’t had the benefit of additional education in the area of discipline. Though I respected their father greatly, I fear Joseph had rather a soft spot when it came to his only children. Perhaps if he had taken the necessary time to properly drive the lesson home, then these two would not even now be bent over, naughty bottoms raised for a lesson in obedience. Please, forgive Lucille for her ignorance and give her a reason to reflect on her childish behavior.”
Headmaster Thorne’s smile grew as he nodded. The cane finally stopped its rolling on the cringing upturned bottom as it lifted high and then descended to take its bite.
Lucy vocalized her distress from the very first stroke. Her hand now crushed her sister’s as she fought to hold position. The second stroke landed and she shrieked at the third before finding her voice at last to beg, “Please, oh-oh, please. I beg you, stop! Please, no more!”
Edward wasn’t surprised when Thorne ignored her pleas. He was sure the man was well accustomed to many a young woman begging for mercy as he delivered a punishment. It was obvious that he took his job seriously and had become a master of the cane. His strokes always landed a hairsbreadth below the one before. Edward’s birthright might have placed him several stations above Thorne, but the men evidently shared this one thing. Neither believed in mercy. One did not go under the cane without just cause and, when one had a bottom lifted for that implement, then one deserved to experience it at its harshest.
