“As with Robert,” I interjected.
“Precisely so. And you were minded to say your Papa also, were you not?”
“I do not know.” I twisted my fingers shyly.
“Bear in mind, my sweet, that your dear Papa is under my care and attention, intends no harm to you whatever, and is fundamentally obedient by nature, as many men are, though they do not always know it. Such punishment as he receives for his seeming sins, he enjoys, for it is a humiliation with promise. His is a privileged position, and he knows it. On the other hand, many males regard being humbled as a privilege, and perhaps also a form of titillation, as Robert does. In a few weeks’ time, he would be lost without the occasional luxury of wearing silk stockings and soft, frilly chemises. Such brings his proud pego to a condition of stiffness and readiness he might have never otherwise known. What a darling he is-we must treasure him!” she exclaimed impulsively.
“But if a girl DOES finally refuse?” I insisted, for I wondered in my heart of hearts what she would do in such a case.
“My dear, her wishes must be respected,” my stepmother said simply. “If she is one whom you like, then continue to nurture her subtly and perhaps you may still bring her to it, but if not…” she shrugged.
“You would not count her, then, a dullard?”
“How kind you are in your heart, Clara! Not if her personality otherwise pleases. One little trick is to ask her advice upon as many matters as possible. In this wise you may see more clearly into her mind and may even. with guile, make her an accomplice, for while some girls will not do such things themselves, there are occasionally others whom they would like to see doing it.”
Her frankness made me laugh as ever, but I have wandered-I trust not to the reader’s annoyance-from the scene I was about to describe and which I had imagined, perhaps hopefully, would take place in the privacy of my bedroom. It did not. I was not so much as to be made an example of as to present one, as I was told. There was a subtle and clever balance made in affairs, for Sarah was to watch, as I indeed had watched her. This would give her solace in knowing that she had not been “picked out,” as our stepmother said. Conversely, however, I would give the best of examples by not refusing, fretting, squealing or crying.
“This will place you on a rung immediately below myself,” I was told solemnly, and though for a fleeting while I thought it a bit of a trick, I soon understood that it was true and that my complicity in what had gone before had not proved in vain.
The appointed time was immediately after dinner, for a full tummy makes for satisfaction, as is said, and I had also imbibed enough wine to make me feel very pleasant indeed. From the dining room I had heard movements afoot, no doubt by Bertha whom I am pleased to say was not otherwise present. Nor was my brother, who was sent upstairs to “study.” Papa appeared to sense something, but said nothing, for my stepmother overlaid all with bright conversation and to my slight bewilderment, I must confess, he too retired upstairs unhindered, leaving me with my sister and stepmother.
“We will go into the drawing room, then,” was said. I, being the first to reach the door thereto, opened it and saw to my heartbeating surprise that a greater space than usual had been cleared in the centre of the floor and that there stood there now a stout wooden trestle-much as used in sawing wood-upon the top of which was strapped a cushion.
“Sarah, dear, your sister is to be caned. Pray lead her to the trestle, bend her well over it, fasten her wrists and ankles with the leather clamps that are affixed fore and aft and raise her dress up to her waist,” our stepmother said.
I stood perfectly still. Sarah evidently wanted to run and gazed all about as if haunted.
“Well, Sarah?” came sharply from our stepmother and, seeing that I was unresistant, my sister took my wrist hesitantly and led me to the stout wooden bar that was placed at waist-height across two sturdy pyramidal forms. Making a strange little sound in her throat, she then bent me over it gently so that my tummy came upon the cushion. My arms, hanging limp, were soon constrained by the short leather straps buckled about my wrists. I felt then such helplessness as I had never known, but at the same time a sort of distant curiousity about my posture, even envisaging other girls in the same pose and with their bottoms bared as mine was about to be.
Squatting down, my sister then drew my ankles wide apart so that they might be similarly affixed. Then, with a certain vengefulness that I could not help but sense (and even, I might say, sympathised with), she bared me to the waist, finding that I-no more than she-wore no drawers and so offered my cleft moon and pursed quim to view.
How open I felt! My legs were straddled a full two and a half feet apart and I felt a thrill of submissiveness entire. Whose cock was I to have? From whose balls would I receive the throbbing emissions of desire? Would I cry out despite all my endeavours?
Perhaps I thought an interval would then obtain. It did not. My stepmother, taking up a cane she had secreted under some cushions, whistled it softly through the air.
“Oh, do not hurt her, pray!” came from Sarah in the background, for which fond cry I loved her much.
“Hurt her, Sarah? Indeed not. She is to be inducted, even as you have been, or rather in a manner that you will be later on. Mark what I say for I will have no truck with disobedience from either of you. You know that by now-do you not?”
My sister evidently nodded, for I heard no word from her. Then came a shuffling of feet as our stepmother positioned herself and ran out the cane (as I afterward always knew her to) lovingly across her palm. I must confess that I felt a panic then. All such words as had been uttered to me had seemed fine and fair and just, but now reality was upon me. I was to receive.
Sweee-issssh!
Ah, how it bit and burned, that first caressing of the cane on my exposed globe! Caressing yes, for such was her manner that it skimmed my hemispheres, though I would have thought for an instant that it had urged white heat deep into me. I ground my teeth and closed my eyes, feeling the insurgent heat and stinging deep inside my peach. Hoooo-iitttt! came then the song of the cane once more, and this time its passage was lower, coming up beneath my bulge so that I all but squealed out loudly and felt the tongues of fire lick all about my cleft.
“What a bumptious young bottom she has, has she not?” our stepmother asked quite conversationally.
“It… it is lovely, yes,” Sarah choked.
“So smooth, so round, so pert, so beautifully offered. Mark that her hips move well but that she has not cried out. What a young Amazon she will be!”
The compliment was well taken, but not the next sweeee-iissssh! which I swear stung deeper into me and brought tears splashing on the carpet from my eyes. I wanted truly to scream out to ask her to stop, but knew that such would be my true undoing. I squeezed my nether cheeks which reared and jerked. Slivers of fire shot through me and I felt as if I had been sat in nettles, so awful was the sensation.