The Liminalpassage

Carrot and Stick

The first thing she noticed was the cane.

Still wedged into the bookcase, at waist height. Her height.

Waiting for her.

Realising the nature of her imminent punishment, she dragged her feet as he led her by the hand towards the stick. She considered protesting, a bedtime spanking was delivered over his knee, it always had been. A bedtime caning was unheard of, but she had been very naughty.

Nevertheless, she took up her place in front of it, turning round to make eye contact as she lowered herself, opening her legs shamefully wide, positioning herself so he could see her wiped bottom cleft and puffy wet lips. The cane’s cool surface kissed her bottom cheeks.

“Now, young lady. We’re here again because you disobeyed my instructions - but I’m going to ensure you follow them correctly this time. You are going to show me how sorry you are for deceiving me, and give yourself your own bedtime spanking.”

She heard a faint squeak, as he sat down behind her in one of the comfy leather armchairs.

“Remember, I expect you to be properly whacked. You may begin…”

She reached back, pulling the cane, the wood gave a creak of complaint. She inhaled deeply, then let go, shooting up onto her tiptoes as the cane whipped back.

“O..one sir.. Oooo. I’m sorry sir”

From behind her, he admired the view. He knew she enjoyed exposing herself, and exposure required someone to watch. It was a duty he was happy to fulfil. His view was now embellished by thin pink line on one of her buttocks.

“Good girl, carry on…”

Her bottom was still stinging as she reached to bend the cane back for a second time. She yelped pitifully, and continued her counting.

The varnish on the bookcase had a worn away in one particular spot, because this was where the cane was always positioned, at a height devilishly determined to be just above the tops of her thighs. Hence during a caning, she would try to bend her knees and push out her bottom, so the cane would strike higher up, on the round globes of her bottom. He’d indulge her for a few strokes, allowing her to turn previously white regions pink, before instructing her to straight up and resume whacking her most tender areas.

After twelve strokes he instructed her to turn around, so the force of the cane fell on her other cheek. Now she faced him; so he could see her grimace with each stroke. He watched her breasts quiver for a few strokes, then moved behind her, to better monitor her whacking.

A creak. A swish. A thwack. A yell. A moan.

Another stripe. Another look back at him, imploringly.

He looks back sternly: carry on.

And so she pulls the cane back one more time, dearly hoping this will be the last.

“T…tw…twenty f…four, sir!” she panted.

“Good girl!” he commended.

He stepped forward to survey her bottom’s red patchwork, quickly satisfying herself that she had indeed been properly punished. Then his fingers explored her cleft, finding a puffy, slippery groove, her clit hot and swollen. She purred with relief as she felt his fingers in her slit, this was his way of saying her punishment was over, and she had made him proud. He didn’t want to become too predictable though, so he pulled the cane back one last time, letting it smack back across her cheeks, surprising her. She yelled out loud in indignation.

Without explaining himself, he took her by the hand and led her, a gesture that spoke to her deepest needs.

Come with me: I’ll guide you.

Come with me: I’ll take care of you.

Come with me: I’ll take you places you long to go…

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