My Secretary

(***, M/F, Severe, consensual caning)

A man canes his secretary. (Approximately 1,542 words. Originally published 2020-05.)

I cane my secretary at least once a week. It's healthy exercise and keeps her on her toes. (Literally, as I repeat a cut if a heel touches the floor.) I usually use some tiny mistake as an excuse, but we both know the real fault is her bottom. It's just too round and pert to resist.

Lucy doesn't do much to hide it, either. She wears tight skirts or slacks that look like they've been painted on. She knows those outfits inspire me, but I suppose that's the point. When you're an English girl, getting your bum caned is a way of life. That's why she insisted I learn how to do it properly.

I was taught by an expert, Headmistress Jennifer. She was never a real headmistress, of course, but based on her caning ability she could have been. She knows how to wring all the potential pain from slender willow of rattan.

From her I learned both ends of the cane. Let me tell you, "six of the best" sounds modest, but it's just about the most painful experience ever. The sting is mind-blowing. I'd question the sanity of anyone volunteering for the lesson, except I can see it. It's not my cup of tea (as they say in England), but there is an odd pleasure to the experience. It's just so intensely memorable that it's thrilling and stimulating.

That said, I'm baffled as to why Lucy needs it so regularly. Sometimes I cane her several times in a week. You'd think her bottom would constantly striped and sore, but she heals quickly. I know this, because I get to see that beautiful bum each time she lowers her "knickers" for a thrashing.

I often examine it just for the fun of it, feigning concern about the marks from her previous beating. She never complains about this. After all, that's not nearly as bad as baring her bottom for another six!

Of course, there's always the danger that if I find her bum well-healed and unmarked, I might be inspired to mark it, so there is some risk for her. That's what she likes, though. The risk. The unknown. The knowledge that at any time, for almost any reason, I can order her into my office and to doff her knickers for a sound six strokes across her bare nates!

If you've never been caned, you don't understand the true agony of such a punishment, and how its potential haunts you. The dread is palpable, the suspense worse than any film. Lucy loves being on that edge. Her terror is real. Even after hundreds of canings, the experience is still one of true horror, and she legitimately fears the rod.

She might be deliberately cheeky as though asking to be caned, but she doesn't really want it. She just wants the threat of it.

Of course, for the threat to be real, she has to get it occasionally, otherwise with too many false alarms the thrill would fade. So I make sure that at least once a week she gets a good thrashing. I make a formal event of it, calling her in and scolding her for whatever horrible thing she's done.

Sometimes I cane her right then. More often I make her wait, announcing that we'll take care of the matter after work. Then she gets the afternoon or whole day to ponder what's coming. A few times I've even told her on a Monday that she's got a 3 p.m. caning on Friday coming, letting her dread it for the entire week. (That doesn't work as well as it sounds, since it's initially too far away to produce real doom.)

Once it's time for a caning she comes into my office and closes the door. She undresses below the waist. Being half naked is far more humiliating than full nudity, especially when it's the lower half. It naturally feels a bit ridiculous. I make her wait, either standing in front of my desk or in the corner. Sometimes I'll make a phone call or conduct some business just to further delay her beating and torment her extra.

Seeing such a lovely young thing in the corner, bottom all bare and smooth, absolutely flawless, is pleasing to me. It can be distracting, however. I rarely get much work done, but at that point, I don't give a fuck. I just want to sit back and admire and think about how that gorgeous butt is going to look with half a dozen bright red stripes crisscrossing it.

There are several positions I use for caning Lucy. There's the traditional touching toes, but that's difficult to maintain, so I rarely use that. Plus, I like her bottom high and thrusting, so having her on tiptoe is far more pleasing. I might have her bend over the back of a chair or davenport, or across my desk. (Often my desk is too messy, so that's not as common.)

When she's perfectly placed, her cheeky backside is in the most rude display, sticking up and out as though asking to be smacked. Lucy's got a wonderful behind, of course, firm and youthful, bouncy and springy like a drum. Her skin is silky, her flesh warm and inviting. I always tap her bum a few times with the cane before I get started, and it's a joy to see those cheeks ripple and twitch.

For the actual beating, I start hard and finish hard (in both senses of the word). I never give Lucy any easy strokes. What would be the point of that? I lash in with all the whippy power of the lithe rattan -- imported special from the Philippines -- and it digs deep into her rotund flesh and leaves behind a swollen red weal as thick as my finger.

I give her at least a minute before the next stroke. While I admire her bottom and study the developing mark, I keep a close eye out for any violations that earn Lucy extra strokes. She knows this, but fidgeting is almost inevitable, as is the occasional lapse in concentration that causes her to reach back to massage her stinging bottom.

These forbidden actions cost her ass as I repeat the cut. I do it promptly, while the pain is still fresh, and I strike in the exact same place. After all, it's a repeat -- the first stroke didn't count -- so it only makes sense that the blow should be a duplicate. It's not my problem if this hurts more, driving into the previous weal. If Lucy doesn't want that to happen, she can just endure her thrashing more stoically.

She usually does fairly well, often taking six without a murmur, but about twice a month she earns an extra for moving or reaching back. This happens most often when she's gotten more than one punishment during a week, because then, even if her bottom looks pristine, it's extra sensitive and she can't get through a thrashing without a fault or two.

After the caning she has to stay in position until I give her permission to rise. I stand there and admire her rump, watching the weals swell and redden with time. Often it's several minutes before I allow her to stand. Then she returns to the corner or perhaps just stays there with her hands on her head. If she rubs, she gets the entire caning again, so that rarely happens. Perhaps once a year she does that, I think to see if I'll notice. I always do and she always regrets it.

I'll work, or pretend to work, while she waits to be dismissed. Sometimes I'll do that after a few minutes, or maybe my mood makes her wait for half an hour. The whole time her bottom is stinging madly and she's not allowed to touch or cover it. If she's standing, it's with her back to my desk and that glorious bum just inches away from me while I drink in the sight.

Eventually, of course, it's all over and she has to go. She dresses, moving gingerly, perhaps even shedding a tear or two. Movement, after a delay, is painful. The flesh of her bottom has drawn tight, the weals hot and throbbing. She feels the sensation with every step. I can see how the exquisite torment thrills her and it excites me to no end. In many ways it's better than the actual caning, since that happens so fast it's a blur. The aftermath I can enjoy at my own pace. Watching that bum jiggle, the red lines quivering, and knowing from experience just how much they burn, is so exciting.

Once Lucy has gone I'm free to relieve myself. I've been hard for maybe an hour at this point, which is amazing at my age. But that's what that girl's sexy bum does to me. Those cheeks are so juicy, the cane weals so vividly red, and her prettiness so full of anguish that I can't help but be aroused. The climax is over too quickly, which is why I cherish the arousal. Once I've come, all I can think about is when do I get to cane Lucy again?

The End