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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SSC: The Appointment
(***, M/F, Intense, cons caning)
A man canes a woman. (Approximately 476 words. Originally published 2000-06.)
Ian sucked in his breath sharply and watched the video monitor more intently than usual. It was his nine o'clock (exactly on time, of course -- few members of the Payne Clinic were tardy more than once). He'd never seen her before. The name of the datasheet read Cassandra, but that meant nothing.
She was dressed like a professional -- perhaps an attorney -- in a long tight-fitting dress that showed off her magnificent figure. She was tall and dark, with large, picturesque eyes. Her eyes showed no fear as she pushed the buzzer.
When Ian unlocked the door, she entered and handed him the form. He almost had a reaction. Only ten years of experience helped him mask his excitement. The woman had selected the 36" cane, maximum force. She'd also checked the maximum number of strokes.
His mouth opened, intending to confirm her request. Then he caught her eyes. They held a horrible pain. He sensed confidence and determination in her posture. She knew what she was doing. She needed this. He didn't know why, but that was none of his business.
The woman smiled, realizing she had won. "I'd like a shower first."
Ian pointed. In sixty seconds he heard water running. He ached to look, but didn't, instead concentrating on practicing with the long cane.
Then she was there, dripping on the carpet. She walked to the front of the sofa. Her body glistened. Her movements were uninhibited. It was like she was by herself.
At a nod from Ian, she expertly bent at the waist. Her legs were a foot apart, her back smoothly arched, her arms gripping her ankles. Her buttocks were magnificent: full and round, gleaming with wetness, with a deep chasm between the cheeks. Ian almost hated to mark them. Almost.
He lashed out with the rod. As usual, the thwock of the cane striking bare flesh aroused him fiercely. He watched as the woman tensed. A thick red weal was rapidly rising across the top of each pale hillock. The woman said nothing.
Ian calmly added two more stripes, then a third and fourth. The woman was trembling, her body swaying slightly, but she didn't speak. The cane caught her again and again. A full dozen cuts. The stripes stretched across the full width of her ass, deeper into the right flank as the tip curved around her hip.
He paused, studying the lines. They were mostly parallel, though a few were askew. Where lines crossed the welts had thickened and gone purple. He lightly traced a puffy weal with a fingertip, making Cassandra shudder and moan. Her back glistened with sweat.
She was eager for the conclusion.
Ian let the girl wait, knowing the anticipation of the twelve remaining strokes would be worse than the actual pain. God he loved his job.