to such an intense level that she kicked her feet up trying to block his hand.
This made him pause. “Do I need to restrain your legs, Joanna?”
“Yes Sir. I can’t hold still, it stings too much.”
Silently, he wrapped the leather restraints around her thigh just above her knee and secured them to the ottoman. “Do I need to get a spreader bar for your feet, too?”
“No Sir, I’ll be good.”
“We’ll see, won’t we?” He resumed with the hard stinging slaps until she was yowling for him to stop.
“Please Sir, spank my thighs, my butt can’t take anymore.”
“You’ll feel my strap on your thighs, Joanna. Hang on, I’m almost done here.”
He obviously had a number of minutes or swats in mind and Joanna knew arguing would only up th e tally. So she endured somehow; the burn on her bottom now a fiery inferno of flames which he stoked higher with each swat.
Peter knew he was being harsh with his girl, but he was intent on giving this lesson one time, and one time only. After he landed another dozen swats on her bright red bottom, he stopped. Using his left hand because his right was practically numb, he smoothed it over her inflamed cheeks checking for welts or bruises. There were some deep red marks but none of the purplish areas that foretold a bruise.
“You’ll get ten with the tawse, five on each thigh then we’ll finish with five strokes of the cane across your bottom. Understand?”
She nodded because she was gu lping in long breaths of air and couldn’t speak. He rubbed her gently, soothing her tender skin as he spoke softly, reassuring her she was a good girl, an excellent wife and mother and that he trusted she would learn from her mistake. When her sobs had decreased to a few shuddering breaths and sniffles, Peter took up the tawse.
Peter had acquired the h and-tooled piece of leather while in Europe a few years ago. The Europeans seemed more tolerant of alternative lifestyles and domestic discipline had been practiced in households there for centuries. He had picked it up in a leather shop in Amsterdam. The two-tongued Scottish tawse was a sturdy piece of leather with a smooth reinforced handle. It was of medium weight and 2 ½ inches wide. It had been broken in quickly on his naughty girl, but the need had trickled off lately. Still it held up well under use, still rigid enough to sting but flexible enough not to injure if used with a cool head and skilled hand.
“Five on each thigh, on my count. This is going to go fast.”
He wasn’t kidding. He applied the biting piece of leather in parallel swats down her thigh; starting at her sit spot and ending just above the top of the restraint above her knee. There was little overlap and by the time he was done the entire back of her thigh was on fire.
“Oo… ah… eeeee , Peter stop that burns like fire!” She hadn’t thought anything could be worse than the heat on her ass. She couldn’t remember him having used the strap on her thighs before. The double tongued strap swung together but the air separated the two straps so it was like getting two lashes when it landed. She heard him count five and exhaled in relief. Foolishly she thought he would give her a break, but her brain exploded when he moved right on to the other thigh and laid down a blazing trail of fire that would make the devil himself envious.
“Yowwww!” was her sustained cry until the fifth and final thwack landed and she relaxed her tight muscles.
Again , he knelt beside her and his warm hand returned to soothe, stroke and assess for damage.
“Peter if the cane is worse tha n the tawse, I think I may pass out.”
“I expect you to take the punishment you agreed you deserved, Joanna. Did you know that the y still use the cane overseas to punish crimes such as yours? Imagine if you got pulled over tonight and a judge sentenced you to a public caning?”
“I would die.”
Peter huffed
This made him pause. “Do I need to restrain your legs, Joanna?”
“Yes Sir. I can’t hold still, it stings too much.”
Silently, he wrapped the leather restraints around her thigh just above her knee and secured them to the ottoman. “Do I need to get a spreader bar for your feet, too?”
“No Sir, I’ll be good.”
“We’ll see, won’t we?” He resumed with the hard stinging slaps until she was yowling for him to stop.
“Please Sir, spank my thighs, my butt can’t take anymore.”
“You’ll feel my strap on your thighs, Joanna. Hang on, I’m almost done here.”
He obviously had a number of minutes or swats in mind and Joanna knew arguing would only up th e tally. So she endured somehow; the burn on her bottom now a fiery inferno of flames which he stoked higher with each swat.
Peter knew he was being harsh with his girl, but he was intent on giving this lesson one time, and one time only. After he landed another dozen swats on her bright red bottom, he stopped. Using his left hand because his right was practically numb, he smoothed it over her inflamed cheeks checking for welts or bruises. There were some deep red marks but none of the purplish areas that foretold a bruise.
“You’ll get ten with the tawse, five on each thigh then we’ll finish with five strokes of the cane across your bottom. Understand?”
She nodded because she was gu lping in long breaths of air and couldn’t speak. He rubbed her gently, soothing her tender skin as he spoke softly, reassuring her she was a good girl, an excellent wife and mother and that he trusted she would learn from her mistake. When her sobs had decreased to a few shuddering breaths and sniffles, Peter took up the tawse.
Peter had acquired the h and-tooled piece of leather while in Europe a few years ago. The Europeans seemed more tolerant of alternative lifestyles and domestic discipline had been practiced in households there for centuries. He had picked it up in a leather shop in Amsterdam. The two-tongued Scottish tawse was a sturdy piece of leather with a smooth reinforced handle. It was of medium weight and 2 ½ inches wide. It had been broken in quickly on his naughty girl, but the need had trickled off lately. Still it held up well under use, still rigid enough to sting but flexible enough not to injure if used with a cool head and skilled hand.
“Five on each thigh, on my count. This is going to go fast.”
He wasn’t kidding. He applied the biting piece of leather in parallel swats down her thigh; starting at her sit spot and ending just above the top of the restraint above her knee. There was little overlap and by the time he was done the entire back of her thigh was on fire.
“Oo… ah… eeeee , Peter stop that burns like fire!” She hadn’t thought anything could be worse than the heat on her ass. She couldn’t remember him having used the strap on her thighs before. The double tongued strap swung together but the air separated the two straps so it was like getting two lashes when it landed. She heard him count five and exhaled in relief. Foolishly she thought he would give her a break, but her brain exploded when he moved right on to the other thigh and laid down a blazing trail of fire that would make the devil himself envious.
“Yowwww!” was her sustained cry until the fifth and final thwack landed and she relaxed her tight muscles.
Again , he knelt beside her and his warm hand returned to soothe, stroke and assess for damage.
“Peter if the cane is worse tha n the tawse, I think I may pass out.”
“I expect you to take the punishment you agreed you deserved, Joanna. Did you know that the y still use the cane overseas to punish crimes such as yours? Imagine if you got pulled over tonight and a judge sentenced you to a public caning?”
“I would die.”
Peter huffed
Similar Books
