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“Dora… there’s more.” He put his hand to her face. “I haven’t had bottom surgery. I don’t intend to. What you’re used to—”
“I’m not used to anything. I’m a virgin.”
“Your expectations—”
“My expectations are fluid. I’ve never even fantasized about anyone until you. You’re the first person I’ve been physically attracted to. I can’t explain it. I’ve always known I was submissive. I’ve always known it was part of my sexuality, but not the only part. I knew I wanted a Daddy, but it would have to be someone who touched me here…” She put her hand over her heart. “Someone who reached me here.”
“There’s a word for that.” He rubbed a pad of his thumb over her lower lip.
“There is?”
“Yes, my beautiful little girl. You’re a demisexual. What a multi-faceted, amazing creature you are. And how lucky am I?”
He kissed her again and Dora felt her heart soar. His embrace this time was stronger, more possessive. Her knees grew weak. She moaned against his mouth.
“There is one small issue.” His mouth had moved to her ear, his breath was hot against her lobe.
“What?”
“Daddies have rules for their Little girls. When Bobbi told you I have a reputation for strictness, she spoke the truth. I will coddle and spoil you in every way imaginable, Dora. But should you flagrantly break rules or put yourself in danger, you’ll be sternly punished.”
A shudder rippled through Dora’s body, then a quake at Alastair’s next words.
“You lied to me yesterday, my little one. As your Daddy, I can’t keep you safe if you aren’t completely honest with me. We’d best establish the bar now, early on, so you will know what to expect if you do anything to thwart my attempts to keep you secure.” He paused. “Do you trust me, Dora. Do you trust me to teach you this lesson?”
Her palms were wet and so, she realized, was her pussy. Dora looked up at Alastair. His eyes were kind, but the resolve in them could not be mistaken.
“Are you going to cane me?” Her voice quavered as she asked the question.
“Yes. Unless…” He crossed his arms. “This is your first time being punished?”
She nodded. “You will be my first for… everything.”
“Well then, I think we will start with a hand spanking.” At Dora’s obvious relief, he quirked a brow. “Don’t think this means it will be any less… memorable.” Alastair retrieved the cane from where it hung by the board.
Dora’s mother had been a fan of theAntiques Road Showprogram; it was probably the only thing they had in common. Dora often watched with her after work and was fascinated by the history and value of items that people found languishing in the attics of old houses. She could tell this cane was not just an antique, but quite remarkable.
Its slender yet sturdy structure was carved from rich mahogany, which had aged gracefully, displaying a deep and lustrous patina. The smooth surface, polished to perfection, invited one to run their fingers along its length to trace the whispers of the past. The handle of the cane was topped with a silver cap engraved with a delicate filigree pattern. Each twist and curve in the design reflected the skilled craftsmanship of a long-forgotten silversmith, capturing the spirit of elegance and refinement of the Victorian era.
Alastair noticed her staring in fascination. He pointed to the cap and here Dora noticed the wording.Presented to Mr. Reginald Worthington on his retirement from St. Augustine's Grammar School, 1898.
“A relic,” he said, “from a time when education was held in high esteem, and dedicated educators were honored for their service. And, perhaps, more than a little feared as authority figures.”
“You sound wistful,” she said.
“Perhaps just a bit.” He raised the cane, examining the perfect patina of the mahogany finish. “In the hands of a revered schoolmaster, we can envision it as more than a mere tool of authority. It becomes a symbol of wisdom, discipline, and the passing down of knowledge from one generation to the next. Through its touch, generations of young minds were guided, molded, and inspired to reach their full potential.”
He looked at Dora. “Of course, that was a bygone era. We’re evolving past the physical correction in schools, but here… with a consenting Little who wants to be molded, well, that is quite a different story, isn’t it? A second life for this piece, and what could be more noble?”
Alastair grinned. “You know, my dear… if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were deliberately trying to take my mind off of matters at hand.”
There it was again, that quirk of the brow that let Dora know that the dryly delivered words were, in fact, said in jest. She would have to get used to Alastair’s distinct British humor. She wasn’t laughing now, though, as he tapped the desk with the silver tip of the cane.
Never in her wildest dreams could Dora have imagined when she came to Rawhide Ranch that within a fortnight, she’d be bending over a heavy oak desk at the direction of a handsome British schoolmaster wielding a genuine cane. Never could she have imagined the delightful cocktail of dread and excitement that would swirl within her, or how it would coalesce and settle into her pelvis as a throbbing knot of arousal.
She whimpered as Alastair began to lift the hem of her skirt, then suddenly panicked. He was going to see her bottom in all its full, jiggly glory. An image flitted through her mind of Maribel with her tight, round backside. Dora reached for the hem of her skirt, stopping its upward progress, and bolted to standing.
“I can’t,” she burst out.
