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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(****, M/ff, Intense, Teen caning, arousal)
Two girls learn the real meaning of Truth during a punishment session from their uncle. (Approximately 2,211 words. Originally published 1996-03.)
The cousins had been living under the dread of the cane the entire summer. It haunted their dreams at night and during the day kept them timid and meek. Neither girl had experienced corporal punishment before, and the concept terrified them. They slunk around with wide eyes alert for danger and were too afraid to act like children.
On the first day of their visit their uncle had given them a demonstration of the cane. It was early in the morning and the girls were sleepy, only half-listening, having stayed up late the night before, too keyed up from their long trip to sleep. But uncle had sternly ordered them into the living room where he showed them the cane and exhorted them to good behavior, swishing the cane dreadfully through the air constantly as he spoke.
The girls watched wide-eyed as they realized he was serious--he meant to beat them with that stick if they disobeyed! The concept chilled them, and they wiggled their little fannies into the sofa as though to protect them. But uncle didn't stop there. He had both girls turn and kneel on the couch, thrusting their little bottoms up in the air. The girls were terrified but obeyed. The cane swished two more times, twin cracks echoing in the air, and the girls were on their feet howling and clutching their precious bottoms.
"Let that be a lesson to you!" growled Uncle. "Plenty more where those came from. And if I have to cane you for real you won't have the protection of your jammies either."
So the cousins became remarkable models of proper juvenile behavior. They woke up early without being called. They went to bed on time every night without being told and didn't whisper to each other even once. They kept their room spotless and neat, and prepared and served Uncle breakfast every morning. They did all the dishes after every meal without a word of complaint, and never once had a cross word with each other.
The uncle was astonished. His sisters had told him the girls were naughty, mischievous brats, always fighting and causing trouble. "Are you sure you can handle them?" they'd asked.
"Of course!" he replied with thunder. "It's just for a couple months. How much trouble can they be?"
The sisters, of course, had raised their eyebrows at this and shook their heads. The old bachelor had no idea how to raise children, they thought sadly. He'd learn soon what trouble they could be!
But there had been no trouble, no trouble at all. Not once did Uncle have to take down that crock-handled cane that hung prominently above the fireplace. The girls tiptoed by it as though just seeing it would bring them doom. He'd watch them from the pantry, or perhaps the bedroom, the door open a crack, and smile at their terror. He felt a touch of disappointment that he'd never even had the chance to break in the cane, purchased just for this visit from his naughty nieces, but he had to admit the girls had been nothing but angels. It seemed that just the threat of real discipline had transformed them.
Until today, that is. In just two days the girls would be going home, back to mundane lives in the city where there was no threat of caning or corporal punishment. The girls were relieved to have escaped the cane so narrowly, and breathed prayers of thanks.
Thus it was quite a surprise and an even more dreadful horror when Uncle called them into the living room that afternoon, hearts frozen in fear when they saw he was holding the slim cane in his hard hands.
"What have we done!" they both thought, and frantically they began to analyze their actions of the past few days for any crimes. They found none which worried them even more.
Uncle did not keep them in suspense long, immediately showing them the shattered sky-blue china vase that had been in his family for two generations. The girls looked at each other with fear and accusation, but both denied the charge.
"I didn't do it," said the blonde.
"Well, don't look at me. I didn't do it!" cried the other.
"One of you did it," growled the uncle. "If neither of you will confess I shall have to punish you both."
The girls looked at each other with distrust and sudden loathing. "She's trying to get me in trouble," thought the brunette, wrinkling her pretty nose. She opened her mouth and out came the words: "She did it!"
"She did it!" said the blonde at the same time, both girls pausing in shock as they realized they had said the same thing.
"All right," said the uncle sternly, "if that's the way you want it." He dragged the love-seat into the center of the room and promptly ordered the girls to bend over each arm and face each other. Reluctantly the girls obeyed, their faces flushing as they realized the position thrust their bottoms up in the air behind them. The uncle carefully flipped up their skirts and pulled down their panties, exposing two naked and vulnerable bottoms.
"We shall take turns," he said calmly, as though explaining what was to be served at dinner that evening. "A stroke each until the truth is revealed. And do not think of rising up or covering your bottom with your hands--if you do you shall get three strokes extra."
The blonde was the first to taste the cane. It bit across her backside with a crisp sting she had only imagined, and the reality was far worse. Tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked them back and held on to the couch cushion in front of her with all her strength, not willing to let her cousin she how much pain she was in.
The brunette took her stroke with merely a loud gasp of astonishment, and then she willed herself to be still and actually smiled at her friend. "Tell the truth," she hissed. "Tell him you broke the vase!"
"I did not!" cried the blonde, her heart trembling as Uncle came around for another round. "You did it!"
CRACK! came the cane and the blonde hissed and bit her lip to keep from screaming. Twin lines of fire burned across her ass and she could not help but fidget, wiggling her bottom in an effort to reduce the pain. She grinned as her cousin received a sharp stroke, triumphant at the grimace that cross the other girl's features.
But then Uncle was back to her again, lifting the cane high and swinging it in a deadly arc that concluded with rattan meeting bare flesh. It struck the girl right at the base of her buttocks, just above the thighs, where the flesh was so tender and soft the girl could not help screaming aloud and bursting into tears. For a moment she completely forgot about her cousin watching her and lay with her eyes closed in agony, whimpering and crying.
When she finally opened her eyes she saw her cousin was reacting the same way, sobbing openly, her hands white with tension as she gripped a sofa cushion. Uncle towered above her, his face hard and grim.
"Will you tell the truth?"
"Please," she begged. "I'm telling the truth! I did not break the vase. I don't know who did but it wasn't me! I'm telling the truth!"
The girl's voice was too frightened to contain deceit, so the man turned to the brunette. "And you?"
"Absolutely not, Uncle! I didn't do it! It must be her, it must be!"
The uncle frowned. "I think you both need a taste of truth," he said sternly, lifting the cane. Both girls howled in protest but the man was resolute. He stepped behind the blonde girl and without warning, gave her three sharp licks.
The girl squealed and cried out in terror and pain. Her body was overwhelmed with feeling. She'd never felt so much pain in all her life. The stinging strokes seemed to seep into her skin, soak through the blubbery layers of protection and conquer the very core of her being. She wept without shame, she wiggled without control. She was only dimly aware of the cane cracking down again and again, this time punishing her cousin, but it sounded distant and remote. The tears of her cousin meant little to her. All she was conscious of was her own pain, her own torment as fever flooded her ass, hot throbs of pain and boiling bubbles of agony.
Then Uncle was back, the cane swinging down without mercy, delivering three more severe cracks that each caused the blonde's breath to freeze and her heart to halt its motion. It wasn't the pain that was so bad--it was the fear of the pain. She did not quite understand it, but was only aware that the pain did not bother her as much as the concept of it hurting her.
She howled and begged for mercy but there was none. The cane struck her cousin three times and then came back to her for another trinity of exquisite feeling. She was raw, broken and incomplete. The strokes of the cane seemed to imbibe her with passion, with potential, and she wept because she did not comprehend what was happening to her.
When Uncle against asked her for the truth she could not speak but only moan and shake her head, and this time it was five strokes that greeted her ass. She could not even howl, but only groan and arch her back, thrusting her bottom up toward the strokes, offering herself to be punished. She could not see how her cousin was reacting for her vision was blurred with tears, but as her ears rang with terrible cracks of the cane she heard her cousin's low moaning, an almost guttural sound, pitiful and profoundly wrenching.
"This is truth," she thought with a bizarre calmness as her uncle approached her once more. "There is nothing more true than this--this pain, this feeling of utter abandonment of the senses, this ultimate despair." She relaxed in the understanding of her defilement and as the strokes descended, each sending spasms of intense emotions through her soul, she sighed and felt an explosion happiness swell through her body. This was what she needed. This was what she was: a naughty girl being punished for her crimes, being disciplined in the severest manner possible, accepting her torment with a sigh of contentment and relief that finally she was obtaining what she so deserved.
With a gasp she struggled to the surface of her emotions and like a drunk awaking from a stupor she vaguely saw the light of day. "Please," she whispered, her voice hoarse, thick, rough and uncultured. "Please. It was my fault. Punish me. I broke the vase."
"No! It was me!" cried and echoing voice, the sound desperate with longing. "I broke the vase. I smashed in a rage and I'd do it again! I'm not sorry at all. Punish me, Uncle--I deserve it."
The blonde felt angry heat rising to her face as she struggled against the enemy she was barely conscious of. All she knew was that her prize was being taken from her. "It was I!" she screamed. "I deserve the pain. Punish me!"
"I shall punish you both," said the booming voice, and relief mingled with terror flooded the two girls who began to sob as though their souls were being tore apart.
Down the came the cane, again and again, the thin rod of polished wood leaving welt after welt across the naked buttocks and thighs of the two girls, their moans and cries of pain scarcely louder than the smacking of the wood. Both girls rode the pain to its climax and beyond, discovering fantastic new truths within its mysterious depths, truths of pleasure and ecstasy few have experienced, pleasure so intense it blocks out all other senses, where all senses become one, an overwhelming ache of desire that causes one to weep and laugh at the same instant.
And when it was over, it was like a curtain was pulled aside to allow sunlight to illuminate everything, and both girls awoke to a new world, a world where everything was not as it seemed, a world that they knew without being told was now their own, a world of adult truths, a world of adult pleasures and adult pains.
Uncle watched them go, meek as kittens, eyes stunned with the knowledge of their discovery, hands clutching blood-red bottoms as they frantically rubbed the swollen mounds as though the act would transport them back to their land of ecstasy.
He smiled softly at their naivety and carefully began to clean up the shards of the broken vase. The vase was a small cost for the priceless education of his nieces. He felt a twinge of guilt at the knowledge that it was he who had broken the vase, but he couldn't let that bother him. In truth, the girls had needed the release of the cane whether they had known it or not.