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Something about the contrast of my owner’s shaved scrotum, its frank presentation of a part of him that should have remained hidden in darkness, struck me as the most dominant thing he had done yet, but of course he followed it up with something even more dominant: his left hand still working my pussy, forcing me to move wantonly with his fingers’ rough caress, he grabbed the back of my head again with his right and bent my head to the side so that he could bring my mouth and nose up against his ball sack.
“Lick them,” he commanded, his voice stern. “And give them a little kiss, and then I’ll whip you. Girls used to kiss the rod before they got their bottoms caned. I want you and your bed sister to know that my cock and my balls are the real implements I train you with. The cane is just a symbol.”
Oh, my God.I didn’t even know why Master Hendryk’s terrible, degrading words made me sob with need and thrust my backside out to try to get more of his fingers inside. My brow creased hard as I felt the cane again, across my bottom, under my owner’s big, strong hand.
I knew if I didn’t do the shameful thing he had commanded he would whip me even harder with the horrid thing. I knew I had no choice. With a tiny whimper I put out my tongue and lapped gently at the wrinkled, salty flesh, just as tenderly as Master G had taught me.
CHAPTER5
Renee
I knew the most important spot to lick and kiss, the one underneath, just where the hard length of my master’s cock rose from the softness of the wrinkled purse. I tried to get my tongue there, to demonstrate my skill and my eagerness to please the man who had purchased me. Master Hendryk knew the spot too, and he helped in his own cruel way, twisting my head further to the side and pushing it down so that I could tend to his pleasure the way an owned bed girl must always do.
The tip of my tongue found the place, and licked there, and my owner rewarded me with a grunt of pleasure. I felt his hips thrust forward a little with the same kind of needy, involuntary movement that gripped my own lower body. Despite my fear I couldn’t keep back a tiny rush of pride at drawing a response from him with the sexual skills I had learned here, the shameful school from which I would soon depart.
“Kiss now,” Master Hendryk said from above me, and I obeyed even though I knew it meant the time had come for my punishment. I pursed my lips and planted not one but three kisses on my owner’s scrotum, suddenly wanting to try to plead in that wordless way for mercy—wanting to show that I really did mean to be a good girl, if only to escape a little of the severity he clearly intended to use in bending me to his will.
A chuckle drifted down from my master, and I knew with a shudder of shame that he had seen through me. To my abject dismay, he spoke not to me but to the audience of his wealthy peers, in a clear voice, laden with mockery.
“This little slut is hoping she can get off easily if she pretends she loves kissing my balls.”
As a ripple of quiet laughter went through the crowd, Master Hendryk used his grip on the back of my head to jerk my face back so that I could only look up into his face, my eyes streaming from the face-fucking he had given me. At the same time he pulled his left hand away from my bottom, so that he could hold the cane in front of my eyes, between my face and his. Just below the cane his hard manhood hovered and his balls hung, so close to my nose that I smelled the dark, musky scent of sex very intensely—so strong that I knew I had it smeared across my lips and my cheeks as well, like a reminder of my master’s lewd use of me.
“Well, Renee,” he said, the cruel little smile once again on his lips and his voice soft and patronizing, “I am, in fact, going to go very easy on you with the cane this evening. I want you to understand that it’s not out of pity for you, or affection for you, though. I’m going to give you three quick strokes because it’s been a long evening already, and I want to spend the majority of our time up here in front of these kind folks fucking you.”
Something about the tone with which he delivered these words scared me terribly, despite the very welcome news that he meant only to cane me three times. I gasped, and despite myself I started to struggle against the straps that secured me to the horse.
Master Hendryk shook his head slowly, clucking softly with his tongue.
“No, my dear,” he said. “You mustn’t try to get away. What will your training master and your dean think?”
He stepped to the side, turning so that he could keep his grip on my hair while making me look at Master G and Miss Charlotte, still standing stage right, their faces grave.
“Good girls,” my owner continued, “stay in place for their masters, even when their masters must punish them very severely. If you can’t do that, you’ll have to be restrained whenever the time comes for me to enjoy you.”
I felt my face twist into a sob of shame. I tried to find somewhere to look besides at Master G or Miss Charlotte, but the only place my eyes seemed able to go was to the screen on that side of the stage, where I could see, in a close-up that made the picture four or five times life-size, my bare bottom. Thanks to the parting of my knees on the horse, I couldn’t help seeing the cleft of my pussy, too, waxed smooth according to the Institute’s rules, the pink inner lips just peeking out between my paler outer labia—paler, but still mortifyingly rosy with the stimulation Master Hendryk had forced on me.
He let go of my head at last, and as I tried to twist my head to get a glimpse of him, I heard him move back behind me. A tiny sob of fear escaped my lips. I turned my face forward again and saw that the image of my bottom had pulled back a little to show Master Hendryk, holding the cane in his right hand again and tapping it on the left.
I watched him lift it higher, and then I saw it laid across my bottom and felt it at the same moment. I tried desperately to pay attention to my breathing—Master G had taught me that punishment was one of the best times to use the technique, since it could keep a girl from tensing up and bruising much worse than she did when relaxed.
This man doesn’t care about that, I thought with a shudder.He’d rather make it hurt worse.
Master Hendryk tapped the cane on my bottom. My breath in through my nose came much faster than I wanted it to. I couldn’t hold it in before releasing it, the way I should.
He put his left hand on the belt that crossed my back.
“Oh, no…” I whispered. It had all started to happen much too fast. Even as I breathed my words, I watched my master, on the screen, raise the cane high—all the way to shoulder height. “Oh…” I started, but I didn’t even get tono.
I had always told myself, when I had seen fellow concubines caned, that the scariest part must be the sound. My heart seemed to jump out of my chest when I heard the whistling of the rattan through the air behindme, rather than some other girl. My body tensed despite every effort I could make, and I let out a cry of fear before I even heard the other sound. That one—the horriblethwack—had made me whimper softly to myself even when kneeling to watch a friend receive her old-fashioned lesson in obedience.
Even over my cry of fear, though, I heard the impact, the sharp sound that ended the whistle, and then, a nanosecond later, I felt it—the fiery line across my poor bottom that for a tiny moment didn’t seem so bad, and then seemed almost bearable, and then… just as I saw Master Hendryk, on the big screen, raise his arm again and start to bring it down with terrifying rapidity, and I heard the cane whistle through the air a second time… just that first stroke made me gasp in pain before the second one even made its horrid noise.
It landed just below the first one, and I watched my bottom on the screen squirm desperately, my cheeks clenching in a vain attempt to soothe away some of the pain. It built even as the red double line of the first welt my master had inflicted became terribly clear, its searing agony more intense.
Master Hendryk raised his arm again. I screamed, in pain and terror, my limbs writhing within the leather restraints, all my muscles straining to escape the torment. I couldn’t bear it… I couldn’t bear even the third stroke, and I had watched girls take twelve of them, screaming the whole time. My eyes went to the face of my new owner on the screen, and I remembered his reasoning for administering so few strokes. My chest filled with fear; I could see in those blue eyes that the next time I got the cane my bare bottom would receive many more.
That third stroke landed. My body tensed at the thwack, at the split second of pressure, at all the accumulated agony in my bottom-cheeks, and then the tension seemed to release itself into a sob of pain and humiliation. On the screen I saw a pretty bottom with three livid double lines across it, and for a moment, bizarrely, I forgot that it was mine, despite feeling at the very same time that my master had made me ride a seat of fire to teach me to obey him.
