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.
Purchase this story in print form!
Don't like reading on screen? This story is available in print form in Erin's Adventures at the Flogmaster's Bookstore. Purchase your copy today to encourage the Flogmaster to write more cool stories.
(****, f/f, Severe, Teen caning)
Erin says good-bye to a dear friend. (Approximately 849 words. Originally published 1998-02.)
The end of the school year came quicker than I expected, and it brought with it an unexpected sadness: Ariana was leaving. We'd grown close to each other and the thought of not seeing her again made me want to cry. On our last day together we sat in Ariana's room and didn't say much, both of us too upset to talk.
"You've been a good friend," Ariana finally said. "I've never known such a good sport."
"Being caned by you is an honor," I said. Ariana didn't speak. Suddenly I got to my feet and ran to my room and fetched the cane Ariana had given me for my birthday. Returning to the room and gave it to her. "A good-bye present," I said. "Make me remember you."
Ariana smiled softly. "Twenty-four, then."
I gulped. "Whatever you say, Ma'am." I bowed my head.
We went down to the deserted boiler room and I stripped off all my clothes--I wanted nothing to distract me from this experience. Ariana had me start by bending over and grabbing my ankles. This is a tough position to hold and I was glad she intended to only give me six while I struggled to stay bent over.
The first six were certainly not routine, though the pain was no longer unbearable to me. As the stripes mounted and I felt the familiar stages of pain building I felt sad knowing that this was to be my last caning from my friend. It was strange what a difference who was doing the caning made--I resented every stroke Lydia had given me, but Ariana's I welcomed, because she was my friend and I knew she loved me.
After the first six I was stiff and my bottom sore. I knew there was much more to come, however. I walked to the table and laid myself across it. The table position was easier to bear, but my nipples were always rubbed raw against the wooden surface.
The second set was sharper, more haphazard, the strokes landing across my bottom and thighs. Now I was really getting sore. My eyes were stinging and my breathing was heavy. I had begun to sweat a little.
For the third set I knelt on the sofa and stuck my bum out behind me. This was difficult, to say the least, but it was easier knowing I was offering myself to Ariana and not Lydia or a teacher. During this set of six I began to cry and make noise--I couldn't help myself. Ariana had caned me soundly so far but now she really began to thrash me and each stroke sent waves of terror and pain through my body. I was trembling when she finished. My arse and the backs of my legs were on fire--I had rarely been caned so thoroughly. Even my regular punishments from Miss Arler (who I hadn't seen in a couple weeks as riding lessons were over for the year) weren't as purely brutal as this final caning from my friend and prefect.
It hurt to move after the eighteenth stroke, but I managed to get up and lie down across the arm of the sofa. This was a more relaxed position as I didn't have to hold myself up--I could just lie there and be beaten. My bum was thrust into the air and my legs dangled over the edge and didn't quite reach the floor. It made me feel helpless.
It was here Ariana demonstrated her true artistry. Somehow, despite the eighteen strokes I'd already received, she found fresh skin to torment. She struck me from different sides and at odd angles that seemed to dig deep into my very soul. I cried out in agony and wept profusely. At first I couldn't understand how she did it--usually at this stage of the punishment I am rather numb.
But Ariana used the tip of the cane to burn holes into my arse. For instance, the first two strokes she did from alternate sides making the tip sink deep into the fleshy base of my bottom crack. The pain was excrutiating.
Ariana also changed her position so that the end of the cane wrapped itself around my buttocks better and the tip left deep welts on the sides of my bum.
When it was finally over I could not stop weeping. Ariana took me in her arms and hugged me, and for a long time I just cried. "I will miss you very much," I finally said. "No one understands me the way you do."
Ariana nodded and to my surprise I saw she was crying too.
She left the next morning. That night I lay in bed and fondled my sore bottom, remembering every stroke of her final gift to me. It made me weep to think I'd never seen her pretty face again, hear her sternly order me to bend over, or feel the surprising power behind her slipper and cane.
I missed her already.
More to come next week!