SSC: Proper Instruction 17

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SSC: Proper Instruction 17

(*****, M/f, Intense, cane)

A girl teaches her guardian how to discipline her. (Approximately 496 words. Originally published 2000-08.)

There was a soft whistle as the cane swung through the air. Nicole had never heard anything so chilling in all her life. A scream stiffled in her throat. She arched on tiptoes, gritting her teeth and moaning.

There was nothing.

She opened her eyes, blinking frantically. Her bottom pulsed from the earlier hairbrushing, but was otherwise fine. She thought back. She'd never heard the cane strike. Had he missed?

She glanced backward. Edward was practicing swinging the cane. He gave it another swish. Nicole shuddered, and he grinned.

"Oh God," she thought miserably. "If I live through this I swear I'll _never_ want to get spanked again!"

Edward stepped forward. The cane reached out and patted Nicole on the ass. She closed her eyes and tensed.

"Relax," said Edward gently. "I want you to ask for and count each stroke."

Nicole gulped. Her breath was gone. She couldn't speak. She swallowed and croaked, "Please, Mr. Heid!"

"Ask!"

Nicole's tenseness went away. She relaxed, beaten. "Please cane me."

"Ask for it by stroke number."

"Please give me the first stroke."

Then it came. She felt the pressure of it first, pushing against her bottom. Then she heard it, the dreadful swish followed by the much worse gunshot-like report. Then came the pain.

It was agony. A line of fire across her ass. Similar to the sting of the switch, but deeper, just like the wooden paddle was more profound than the ruler. The cane didn't just wound the surface, but struck down deep. The pain penetrated. The pain was profound beyond words.

"Ahhh!" gasped Nicole. Hot tears spray to her eyes. She struggled to stay bent over and in position. The white-hot pain slowly faded, replaced by a sharp throbbing. Nicole panted for air.

"Ask," reminded Edward.

Nicole groaned. She wet her lips. "Please, give me the second stroke."

Swish-CRACK!

"Arrrgggghhh!" screamed Nicole. The pain was hideous, worse than hideous. It was ridiculous, absurd in its intensity. How could anyone endure such agony? It was ludicrous.

She felt herself smiling, then laughing. It was crazy, this pain. It was inhuman. Yet she was asking for it. She heard herself open her mouth and request more. And it was promptly delivered, harsh and cruel, across tender bare flesh. She could feel the weals forming, the raised flesh swelling and hardening. She knew the marks would show, and they would last a long time.

As the caning proceeded, she began to understand. It was intense, but not unbearable. Those first few white-hot seconds you thought you'd die, but once survived, the pain was translatable into human terms. In some ways it wasn't any worse than the frat paddle.

But it left a residue. The paddle left your ass hot and sore, but the cane left puffy weals that were ridiculously tender. Nicole shifted her ass, feeling a drop of salty sweat trickle across a weal. She smiled at the sting.

The End

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