Mr. Bliss

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Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1985-2016 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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Mr. Bliss

(****, M/f, Edgy, nc caning)

A girl suffers a severe caning with the tri-cane "soko." (Approximately 4,084 words. Originally published 2006-07.)

"Oh please, sir, won't you cane me?"

Mr. Perkins glared at pretty blonde student before him. She was the very picture of adorable with her large blue eyes, pale skin, and ruby lips, and the prim and proper school uniform added to her innocent appearance. But he was not moved.

"Of course not, Miss Walker. You know that talking is not permitted during exams. You will go to Mr. Bliss' office immediately."

"But sir, _you_ could cane me. On the bare bottom. A full dozen!"

"Cheating is a headmaster offense, and I suspect you'll get a dozen anyway from Mr. Bliss."

"I'll take two dozen from you!"

"You are trying my patience, girl. Please leave at once."

Ally bit her lower lip in fear and gave it one last desperate attempt. "Sir, I know I was wrong and I accept that I need to be punished. Couldn't you give me three, no _four_ dozen? On the bare."

The man frowned. "Let me get this straight. You'd rather have four dozen from me than a dozen from Mr. Bliss?"

Ally nodded. "Yes sir."

"Mr. Bliss must really know his caning!"

"It's the worst, sir. He cuts so low, and he's so slow, it lasts forever. One stroke from him feels like six from anyone else. I don't know how he does it but please sir, if you have a heart, cane me yourself."

Unfortunately for young Ally, Mr. Perkins was a stickler for detail. He wouldn't hear of making an exception to the rules. So it was with a heavy heart that the blonde teen made her way down the hallway toward the headmaster's office. Every step was like walking against a stiff wind. Her belly twisted in fear and her breathing grew difficult. Oh how she hated this. Why had she been so stupid? She should have known Mr. P would hear her -- he had ears like a bat (literally and figuratively).

At the door she stood for a moment gathering her courage. It took some doing. She took several deep breaths, did some quick knee bends and touch toes to get her blood flowing, and with a final prayer, knocked.

"It's from Mr. Perkins, sir."

Mr. Bliss took the note and studied it. His expression did not change. "I see," he said. "Cheating, were you?"

Ally's face drained of blood. "No sir, of course not!"

"It says here you were talking during an examination."

"That wasn't cheating -- my pencil broke and I was asking Bette if she had a spare."

Mr. Bliss' eyebrows rose, his expression unconvinced. "Talking during exams is prohibited because the student could be cheating. Since you were talking, I must assume you were cheating."

"But sir, I wasn't, I swear!"

"I have no way of knowing what your intentions were. You will be punished for cheating. Come, into the punishment chamber."

Adjacent to Mr. Bliss' office was a room reserved exclusively for corporal punishment. It was spacious and minimally furnished, but what few items it contained were likely to chill a schoolgirl's heart. There was a wooden punishment bench where a girl could be strapped for a flogging, and one wall contained a rack of slender canes and a few leather whips. There were also wooden paddles of various weights and sizes.

Ally was trembling as she entered the room, for it did not bring forth pleasant memories. It was a place of tears and screams. She was still trying to convince herself that this wasn't happening, that she must wake up any second and find this was all a bad dream. But she could not wake up.

"Get undressed," said Mr. Bliss. He did not even bother to watch to see that she obeyed his command but crossed to the cane rack where he took down a rod and began to flex and test it.

Trembling, Ally began to strip. This was another thing she did not like about punishments from Mr. Bliss. With teachers you usually would be caned over panties, but even if it were on the bare, you'd just raise your skirt. Mr. Bliss was unique in that he only punished girls who were completely nude.

There was a small dresser near the door. It was here Ally carefully stacked her neatly folded clothing, even placing her black Maryjanes next to the clothes. She was completely naked now, shivering in the cool room. Behind her she could hear the headmaster choosing his weapon and her shoulders shuddered with nerves.

On the wall opposite each end of the punishment bench were large, full-length mirrors. These were positioned so that when the schoolgirl was in position across the bench she could not only see her face as she was punished, but watch her own buttocks thrashed in the reflection of the other mirror. Psychologically this was devastating -- it made the punishment far worse to actually see the damage caused by the cane as it was happening.

As she reluctantly approached the bench, Ally couldn't help but see herself in the mirrors. She saw a frightened figure in little girl blonde pigtails, her pretty face drawn and wan, lower lip being nervously bitten by a row of clean white teeth. Her pale blue eyes were wide as she stared at herself. The girl in the mirror was petite and slender, very much a fragile girl, yet recently her body had blossomed with sudden maturity, developing apple-sized breasts and swelling hips and buttocks. On her small frame the generous curves looked slightly absurd, an almost cartoonish exaggeration of womanhood. In particular it was her buttocks that astonished her because the growth in girth of her hips had produced such a wide, full, decidedly feminine bottom. That those plump cheeks were about to be severely chastised terrified Ally. The flesh was so soft, smooth, and unblemished it was hard to imagine the violence that would be worked on those rounds in a few short moments.

"On the bench," said a stern voice, and Ally's tension doubled. Trembling slightly but trying to be brave, she laid herself across the wooden structure.

The punishment bench had a dreadful resemblance to a coffin. It was essentially a wooden box thirty-six inches wide, six feet long, and two feet tall. However instead of a flat surface, the top was sloped to a peak in the middle, rising an additional ten inches in height. At this peak there was a wide leather pillow that crossed the full width of the bench.

It was thick and soft and it was across this that Ally stretched, resting her hips against the padding. It was surprisingly comfortable as most of her weight was supported by the soft pillow, except the design had the disconcerting consequence of forcing her buttocks to be the highest point of her body. Her legs sloped down behind her and her torso slanted forward, leaving her head well below her arched backside. Her newly enlarged breasts were pushed flat against the hard wooden surface of the bench, something Ally found extremely uncomfortable.

Mr. Bliss took his time fastening Ally in position. First, he carefully wrapped wrist and ankle cuffs to each of her outstretched limbs, securing them soundly so they would not slip off but not so tight that they would cut off her circulation. Each cuff was attached to a tough elastic strap. The headmaster started with her left foot, looping the band through an iron ring at the corner of the bench. He pulled her leg taut and fastened the strap securely.

Next, the headmaster did the same with Ally's right arm, pulling her apart diagonally. The elastic straps were tight and stretched Ally so much that she gasped. When her right foot and left arm had also been pulled cruelly apart, the stretching was so tight as to be uncomfortable.

Ally was completely helpless, unable to do more than wiggle her hips slightly. She felt horribly exposed and vulnerable. Her legs were splayed wide leaving nothing to the headmaster's imagination. She could feel his eyes upon her and fear pulsed through her veins in enormous quantities. It was almost time for the thrashing to begin. She wanted to cry but knew that she would weep soon enough.

Mr. Bliss was not quite finished. He produced a small chin pad. Leather straps went through Ally's mouth and behind her head, securing it to her lower jaw. The pad served the triple duty of keeping her from banging her chin against the bench, as a bite protector, and as a rough gag. Though it wouldn't keep her from screaming, it did prevent articulate speech and reduce the volume of her cries.

The final indignity was a small cord that went from the chin pad to the far end of the bench. Pulled taut, it forced Ally's head forward, her neck flat against the bench. This simple string prevented her from rotating her head and meant she had no choice but to stare at her own reflection in the mammoth mirror that stood on the wall before her. The mirror was angled so that she could clearly see her own spread buttocks on the mirror behind her, her blush deepening when she saw how clearly her sex was on display for the man.

Mr. Bliss was standing behind her, off to one side, studying her. Though his expression was bland, he seemed fascinated by the sight of her proffered buttocks. The yellow wand of willow in his hand seemed forgotten as he watched the trembling girl.

Suddenly he appeared to come to a decision and moved. The yellow cane was replaced on its shelf and Mr. Bliss took down a different weapon. Ally could only hear him moving as he was out of her field of vision. She waited patiently for his return for she could do little else.

"I don't believe you've had the pleasure of the soko, Miss Walker," mused the headmaster thoughtfully, slowly crossing in front of the prostrate girl. Ally's body shuddered and her eyes wavered frantically when she saw the terrible instrument of correction in his hands.

"The soko is serious discipline but cheating is a serious offense. I think you will benefit much from a good lesson today. I shall do my best to make it memorable."

Ally tried to beg, to plead for mercy, but her words came out as mere grunts and cries. She wiggled frantically but scarcely moved. She could do nothing. She stared at the man in horror, real fear widening her pale blue eyes. "Gnnnoooo," she moaned, flailing helpless on the bench. Tears glistened in her eyes.

The soko is strict. It is made up of three hardened Malacca canes, long and slender, fastened together like a birch. Each is slightly narrower than a typical cane, to give the soko less weight and keep the wands more flexible. At the handle, which is wrapped with many turns of a leather cord, small pieces of wood are inserted between each rod to separate and fan the canes. The three blades of the soko can splay to an area of several inches in width. Each stroke leaves three distinct points of pain; unlike other multi-limbed instruments of punishment like a "cat 'o nine tails" where some tails strike softer than others, all three canes of a soko are always equal in force.

Ally had heard horror stories of the soko but had never imagined she would be forced to endure it. It was said to be the worst punishment the school could give, worse even than the birch. If a routine caning had frightened Ally, the prospect of a soko beating had her dumb with terror. It mattered little anyway as she was quite unable to move or even talk. Her naked bottom was already presented for discipline and she could only weep at her misfortune.

The poor girl watched with growing distress as the headmaster calmly lifted a rag from a bucket of water and squeezed it. The damp rag was then brought above to her buttocks and squeezed again, releasing the trapped moisture. Ice splashed across her bum. Droplets coursed down her spine, tickling her. Others found their way between her cheeks, washing her anus and trickling over the lips of her sex.

The rag began to mop her buttocks, moistening the skin thoroughly. Ally shuddered. The sensation was not unpleasant at all, but she knew wet flesh stung more than dry. Were there no limits to Mr. Bliss' cruelty?

Apparently not, for now he proceeded to practice with the soko. He swished it through the air several times, getting a feel for the weight of the instrument. Then he tapped it roughly across Ally's bare seat several times, increasing her dreadful anticipation.

But still he did not strike. He knew the value of patience and took his time, lining up his feet, stretching out his arm, making sure that everything was perfect. Ally gritted her teeth and held her breath, waiting. The arm was raised, the canes of the soko quivering in the air, but still nothing. Slow seconds ticked by and Ally finally could wait no longer, she had to breath. As she gasped for air the soko fell.

Though Ally had been waiting for that first blow for so long, the timing was such that it still caught her by surprise. The slight distraction as she took her breath was all it took. Suddenly there was a swoosh of air and her buttocks were covered with pain. The three rods each bit in cruelly, scoring the round peak of her bottom with a trinity of agony. It really was like getting three vicious cane strokes at once. Instantly she felt that all the nightmare stories of the horrible soko had been dreadfully understated.

Pain gave Ally strength. Her body froze, taut, at the initial shock of the blow. Then, as though struck by a lightning bolt, she went into a spasm of frenetic activity. Her legs and arms threshed wildly and she actually managed to pull an inch or two of movement into her tightly stretched bonds. But it was only for a moment, then she collapsed in exhaustion, her buttocks quivering with outrage at the three bluish weals that decorated the pale cheeks.

Ally's cry was eerie, like that of an unknown animal. It was a scream but low and deep, one of a profound wounding. It startled even her, as she listened to the echoes while she waited for the next stroke.

It was a long wait. Mr. Bliss always caned at a leisurely pace, one stroke per minute. It was just one of the things Ally hated the worst about headmaster punishments. As though from far away she heard his crisp "That was one" count. It made her cringe. Her buttocks burned furiously but much worst was the knowledge that this was just the beginning.

Unbelievably the second stroke was worse than the first. A moment earlier she never could have imagined such a thing, but as the fires coursed through her buttocks she became a believer. The soko was by far the worst pain she'd ever experienced. She was hoarse with screaming before it was time for the third.

As she writhed and sputtered like a dying fish on the shore, waves of pain washing over her, she reflected that she now understood three standards of cane pain. The first was the gentle sting of the classroom rod, something all girls felt routinely as an ordinary punishment for mild offenses like tardiness or sloppy penmanship. At one time, a time that suddenly seemed long ago when she was but a mere child, that pain had seemed significant to her. She had feared and dreaded classroom canings and thought six too severe a punishment. Now she knew better. Six with such a feeble rod was nothing more than a hand swat, a mere mosquito bite!

Her second standard of pain was the cane from Mr. Bliss. The headmaster's canes were longer and heavier than the light classroom ones, yet he oiled them regularly and kept them wickedly flexible and whippy. The result was an agony so pure that a single stroke dwarfed a classroom six. She didn't understand how the man did it, but every cut seemed to eat through the flesh of the buttock like a living worm of acid. For hours afterward the pain was still significant, a tender reminder to stay away from the headmaster. The thick marks lasted days and days, purple and black, slowly turning ruby and yellow.

But now Ally was privileged to experience a new threshold of excruciation. The bite of the tri-tipped soko was beyond a mere three cane strokes -- the simultaneous delivery somehow magnified the result to stratospheric suffering. Ally couldn't breathe it hurt so much. It was pain piled on top of pain on top of pain. She was delirious with it. She could think of nothing else. It was long seconds before she was back to earth, in her poor body, gasping for air and sobbing uncontrollably.

"Nnnnooo ooorrrr," she moaned loudly, unaware her garbled words were scarcely understandable. All she could think about was wanting the pain to stop.

"That was three," Mr. Bliss announced cheerfully. He got the wet rag and daintily mopped Ally's buttocks again, the smooth flesh now corrugated with nine swollen lines of purple. The wet felt cold and good, but Ally could scarcely tell the difference between pain and not pain. Everything hurt.

When the beating resumed, Ally was lost in her screams. Drained of energy she could hardly resist. Her body just lay there, quivering, as fresh weals blossomed across her haunches. She was dimly aware of the headmaster announcing she'd taken six.

_How many more?_ Ally thought miserably. _Surely this is more than any child is meant to bear._

But even as she thought that she realized that she was no longer a child. She'd come into this room a trembling little girl but no girl could endure this. This was a senior punishment, discipline for a big girl. Instinctively Ally knew she would never be the same after today. If she survived -- something her heart sincerely doubted though her mind told her this was just a beating and she'd live -- the world would be different. The scales of everything she knew had been adjusted. Nothing weighed the same any more. Her perspective on everything was different. Gone were any sort of childish thoughts: this was serious, grim reality and she must adjust and face it. Adulthood was all about suffering. She was experiencing a transformation into the world of the grown-up.

She did not like the transition at all: it was harsh and cruel, impossible to bear, forced upon her like foul-tasting medicine. She had no choice but to swallow the bitterness. No doubt, in the end, it would make her a better person. That was the purpose of discipline, wasn't it? To better her. To teach her. To guide her.

It was not a pleasant journey. Through the blur of her tears Ally could see herself in the mirror. She saw her face, bloated and red-eyed and tear-stained, looking more like a nightmarish monster than a sweet young girl. Behind her rose the double mirror, and in its reflection were even more horrors. The once smooth, delicate rounds of her bottom had been obliterated. In its place were twin rounded lumps of roasted flesh. Charcoal grill marks scored the tender meat with cruel red-hot irons.

As she watched, the swollen hinds jerked mindlessly as another stroke of the soko splattered across the spread flesh. She watched, astonished, as the wooden rods ripped into the crimson flesh, sinking deep before rebounding and departing, leaving behind nothing but unspeakable anguish. There were weals upon weals now, writhing like living snakes across her backside. Her skin sizzled as they crawled across her, many gnawing and biting as they overlapped and fought with one another for dominance.

"That was eleven," said the voice of Mr. Bliss. "One more to come."

Relief flooded through Ally's body, relief coupled with fear that she still had one final insult to endure. She knew the last would be the most vicious and that in her state a butterfly landing on her butt would be unbearable. It would not be good, this final thing, but at least the lesson was almost over.

Mr. Bliss waited a long time. He mopped Ally's bottom twice with the wet rag, and on two occasions he palmed her buttocks, squeezing the blistered flesh roughly, pinching it as though measuring its weight.

Ally was long past crying. She had no tears left. Even her terror was gone: she'd left it behind months ago. Now she was nothing but a lump, a thing waiting, a mere collection of raw flesh stretched across a bench.

The soko whistled through the air. The sound was chilling, but Ally scarcely heard it. She felt more than heard the thump as it thudded heavily across her hindquarters. Her body reacted without her, heaving and shuddering at the outrageous treatment.

Relentless new pain tore through her. This was fresh agony, slightly foreign, of undetermined vintage. She could only hiss at the nightmare sting.

"That was twelve." The headmaster put away the soko. He carefully untied the chin strap that held Ally's head immobile. He disappeared and returned with a cup of water which she gulped down noisily as though she had not drunk in a year. It was by far the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted.

"Thrashings make one thirsty," Mr. Bliss said. He took the cup away, letting her pant for a moment. "You're dehydrated. All that sweat and tears."

"Please, more!" gasped Ally, grateful when the cup was returned. She drank it dry, then silently pleaded with the man for more. He refilled it and let her drink again, telling her slow down or she'd choke.

"Now tell me, what did you think of your first experience with the soko?"

Ally lay panting. She was still bound at wrist and ankle, stretched painfully in four direction. She was so tired it took an effort for her to answer. "Never again," she sighed weakly. "Never again."

"Ah, so it worked!"

"That... that was the worst thing I've ever had happen to me."

"Stings a bit, eh?"

"'Excruciating' is an understatement, sir."

"You profited from it, I hope?"

Dimly, Ally nodded. "Yes sir. Thank you sir. An excellent beating. I shall remember until the day I die."

"That's good to hear," beamed Mr. Bliss. "It would be sad to go all that trouble for little effect."

He left her on the bench for a quarter hour while he wrote up a report in his office while she lay there and pondered how much her ass hurt. It was maddening to not be able to touch herself. She couldn't even fidget!

When Mr. Bliss came and released her, Ally had trouble getting to her feet. Her whole body throbbed. It felt like she hadn't walked in a year and had to relearn how. Her bottom weighed thirty pounds, a lead anchor behind her. When she touched her cheeks discretely, she thought in amazement that her bum was covered with hemp ropes. Finger-thick weals crisscrossed her buttocks from one side to the other, and her skin was hard and rubbery. She didn't even try to put on her knickers: there was no question they wouldn't fit the swollen mass that used to be her ass.

Ally had never felt so thoroughly punished. Though only her bottom had been flogged, her whole being felt devastated. Just dressing exhausted her.

In Mr. Bliss' office she read the punishment report with relief, just glad the ordeal was over. Even on paper the words "twelve strokes with soko" sent a chill of doom through her. Her mind was suddenly excellent at math as she reflected that though the punished claimed only twelve strokes, the soko had left thirty-six weals across her arse. She shivered at the thought. Her hand trembled as she signed her name.

"Let's not be seeing you again in here, Miss Walker." Mr. Bliss took the report from her and put it in the filing cabinet.

"Yes sir. I mean, no sir, you won't sir."

Ally spoke with fervent conviction. Never in her life would she do anything to earn herself another session with the soko!

Too bad she was mistaken in that prediction.

The End

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