The Mistress had him over the arm of the couch, his bare ass up and to be used as she wished. He felt a hand on his back and then heard what he would find out was the swish of the cane coming towards him. It hit, the intensity of it blocking out everything for a moment. He couldn’t even react until the third or fourth strike on the back of his thighs. He closed his eyes to the tears that almost stung as much as the stripes he was getting from the cane in her hand. The pain was excruciating and got worse if she paused, letting the welts come up, the blood rush to the injured area.
She stopped, lightly rubbing the skin where she had been hitting him. He could feel the fingertips running along the lines she had just laid out. She smacked him with an open palm, his hips jerking into the couch arm. She laughed lightly at that and her palm hit his other cheek. He tried to stay still, but the combination of the caning and her starting to spank him was almost too much. Almost.
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