Chapter 11

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Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1995-2009 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.

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Erin's Adventures
Chapter 11
Chosen

(****, f/f, Intense, Teen slippering and caning)

Erin gets a mistress. (Approximately 1,658 words. Originally published 1998-02.)

Time went by and I became used to my life at St. Esther's. It wasn't nearly as bad as I had expected. Most of the girls were very friendly and I became close with a number of them. Because of the hardships of our situation we were drawn together, like prisoners under the rule of a cruel warden. And except for my initial terror of punishment I soon grew to understand and accept discipline as a matter of course. I didn't let it rule my life. There were a few girls, the very shy types, who practically refused to leave their rooms for fear they'd get in trouble. I decided early on that I would do whatever I was going to do, and if there were consequences to my actions, I'd accept them gracefully, like an adult.

This meant, of course, that I was often beaten, either by my regular teachers, by the head, or by one of the prefects. Generally these were mild slipperings or a few strokes with the cane. I did not mind, not really. I deserved everything I got. It was part of life, part of growing up.

One morning, a couple months after I'd joined the school, I awoke very early. I didn't know why I was awake--everyone was still sleeping. Then I saw Ariana, my prefect, sitting on the edge of my bed, watching me. It startled me at first. I thought she'd come to slipper me as she does once a week or so, but it was much too early for that. She looked like a ghost in the dim light. She was dressed in a white robe and her long dark hair hung down from her shoulders in shimmering waves. Her eyes gleamed.

"Come with me," she whispered.

My eyes wide with alarm and wonder, I quickly put on my bathrobe and followed the older girl. She led me downstairs and into the boiler room. Here I hesitated. I had not been here since my caning from the prefects. But there was no one in the room but me and Ariana now, so I followed her.

"Strip," she said. It was scarcely a command; more like a statement. But I felt the power behind her words. For reasons I did not know or understand I began to disrobe. In a moment I was completely naked.

Ariana had gone to a small table in one corner and pulled out a wooden chair. She motioned for me to get across her lap. In her hand was a large black slipper. With my lower lip trembling slightly and tears stinging my eyes, I obeyed, laying myself across her thighs. I was shifted far forward so I had to brace myself on the floor with my hands leaving my naked bottom thrust into the air on Ariana's lap.

"Please," I whispered. "What did I do?"

"Shhh. Be quiet," ordered Ariana. And she began to spank me. It was like no spanking I'd had in a long time. If I had to describe it I'd guess I'd say it was a loving spanking, as strange a concept as that was to me at the time. It wasn't that it was gentle or mild--it definitely hurt--but Ariana's touch was warm and comforting and made me feel secure. She often paused during the spanking to rub my bum and she talked as she whacked me, whispering soothing rhythms of words that I didn't understand but calmed me anyway.

Finally she put the slipper on the table and laid her hand on my bottom. My ass was very hot and stingy and her hand felt good. She rubbed me occasionally as she sat there, not saying anything. Slowly my panting returned to normal breathing and my tears dried up. I felt awkward lying naked across her lap like this but there was a certain naturalness about it that calmed me. My stomach felt nervous but there was a glowing warmth going through the very core of my being that felt wonderful.

"You've got a beautiful bum, do you know that?" asked Ariana.

It was a strange thing to say. "It's too big," I said, blushing, and thinking of how my hips were growing so wide it was almost embarrassing.

"Nonsense. It's very spankable like this. Whenever I see your bum I want to spank it."

I didn't know what to say to that!

"Do you like it when I spank your bum?" Ariana said.

I shook my head. Then I nodded. Then I shook my head again. "I don't know," I whispered lamely.

"Do you need more practice?"

"No!" I shouted. Realizing how loud I was I lowered my voice to normal levels. "It's just that... it feels so good right now, like it is. It's perfect, just right. My bum is nice and warm. Don't change it."

Ariana nodded and her hand did little circles on my bottom. This sent shockwaves of pleasure courses through my lower belly. "I've decided to make you my servant," said Ariana in a crisp, no-argument voice. "You will assist me in my prefect duties, do little errands for me, and so on. In general you will obey me at all times. And I will discipline you as I see fit."

Again I was speechless. I was not sure if this was what I wanted or not, but just thinking of Ariana spanking me on a regular basis sent chills through me. Slowly I nodded.

"And what do you say for this honor?"

"Thank you, Ariana."

"Good," she said. "Now, let us get your caning over with and you may begin your duties."

A lump formed in my stomach as I was slowly helped to my feet and led to the table. I watched without speaking as Ariana went to a small wooden cabinet and took out a handful of canes. She tested them, bending and swinging them. Finally she selected on and put the others back.

"It shall just be six this time," she said pleasantly, as though telling me what beautiful weather we were going to have today. "You have generally been a good girl."

I bent forward across the table, my legs slightly apart, my bum arching up to receive the cane. Ariana commented on my "excellent" positioning as she got behind me. I waited, scarcely able to breathe. A part of my brain was trying to scream out, "Run! Why in the hell are you standing there!" But I didn't listen to that part of my brain. It grew fainter and fainter and soon all I could hear was my own ragged breathing as I waited for the first stroke.

It came, a fierce corker that knocked me forward causing my full weight to be thrown onto the rickety table. The sting was astonishing, and after a moment, the deep down throb began. I gasped and blinked away the tears and held as still as I could.

Swish-CRACK! came the cane. This one was low, just above my thighs. Tears burst from my eyes unbidden and I couldn't help but let out a small yelp.

Three was just slightly above two, in the plumpest part of my bum. It hurt very much. I suddenly became very aware of my breathing, and I realized my throat was dry and sore.

Four was a diagonal. It broke me. The pain was dizzying. I began to sob and struggle against the table, quivering and trembling. I gripped the edges of the table and held on for dear life. Every instinct in me told me to get up and run, to grab my burst ass and rub, to protect it from the next stroke.

But I didn't. Though I wept and moaned, I did not run. Even when the fifth blow struck I did not run. I cried out in pain--it was another diagonal, this time in the other direction--but I did not run. I couldn't understand it at all. There was nothing to prove here. This wasn't a caning from the headmistress. I had done nothing wrong. Yet for some reason I was accepting this caning as though I deserved it, almost as though I wanted it, or even needed it.

That was it. A peace settled over me as I came to the truth. I needed it. Why, I didn't know. But I knew that I needed to feel that cane, be overwhelmed by its passion, be broken by its insatiable demands. That satisfied some inner longing that I couldn't begin to comprehend. But I accepted it. I couldn't explain it, but I could accept it as the truth that it was.

I received number six with a smile on my face. The smile became a grimace as I grunted under the impact of the blow, and for a moment I thought I would scream. Then the peak of the pain washed over me and I was free. Slowly I got up off the table and stood, trembling, scarcely daring to believe what I had just experienced. I felt like a different person. Not just changed, but completely different. It was as though there was a new person inside of me--perhaps the real me I'd never let out--and suddenly she was taking over.

I turned to Ariana, my beautiful, cruel mistress. She was watching me intently, the long cane gripped in two hands and held across her chest. She looked astonishingly beautiful, her dark eyes as black and deep and mysterious as space itself.

"Thank you," I whispered, and I meant it with every fiber of my being.

She smiled at me, and her hand went out and caressed my tear-stained cheek in a gesture that was so quick and fleeting but struck me as dumb as if she'd slapped me.

"Thank _you_," she said simply. And I knew she meant it.

More to come next week!

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