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: Six Buckets
(*****, M/F, Intense, caning)
A woman is punished by her husband. (Approximately 490 words. Originally published 2000-08.)
Jill tentatively slid open the glass door to their backyard. She hated this. She always felt some neighbor would be watching or listening. Sure, they had high walls, but with technology these days, who knew? Jill might be starring in an Internet video next week!
Jacques was waiting. In one hand he held the curled handle of a slender white cane. Jill shivered, and it wasn't because it was March and she was stark naked.
She was going to go into the explanation she'd prepared, but suddenly she knew she wouldn't say anything. It wasn't just that she knew it would do no good, that it wouldn't change anything, and that it wouldn't convince Jacques that she didn't need this thrashing, but it was, she realized with a gasp, exactly that she _did_ need it. In fact, she _wanted_ it. Her excuses were just that: excuses. She truly deserved to be punished, and it was just lucky that she was married to a man who wouldn't hesitate to take her in line.
"Six buckets," said Jacques, his voice cold and hard.
Jill shivered and nodded. She walked to the yard faucet and began to fill the big white plastic bucket. It seemed to take forever, but in a way she wanted to take even longer.
When it was full, she carried to Jacques. It was heavy and she struggled, but he handled it easily. She stood on the concrete slab with her hands behind her head as Jacques poured the freezing water over her nude body.
"Ah!" gasped Jill, but then it was over. Her body gleamed and dripped. It was time. She turned and bent over, all the way over, until her hands were flat against the concrete. (Her legs were splayed obscenely, showing Jacques everything, but then she had no secrets from her husband. If she had, she wouldn't have found herself in this situation.)
The stroke of the cane was like a red-hot branding iron. Jill felt the weal pulsing across the cheeks of her ass. Damn that hurt.
She rose slowly, and went to fill the bucket again.
After another ice water bath, there was another blazing stroke of the rod. Jill winced as she carried the heavy bucket of water back for another dunking.
The water was so cold, her skin so wet. The cane seemed to cut her in half. Tears glistened in her eyes and blended with the water flowing from the bucket. She bent over and received the fourth stroke, then the fifth, and after a final bath of liquid ice, the sixth.
Jill stood, her body trembling. Six ridged lines marked her bottom. The cheeks felt swollen and hot, and the weals throbbed. Jill shivered. She slipped a hand between her legs. It came away wet. Warm wet, not cold wet.
"Can we go inside now, Jacques?"
Her husband adjusted his pants and grinned.