We pick up from where we left off last week with Alun Thomas' short story, "Why Can't I be Caned", from A Janus Collection of Spanking Stories. If you want to refresh your memory of part one, it's here.
"Oh good heavens! That must be Toni! I told her to arrive at this time. Please help me to dress!"
In a daze, I grabbed the sides of her slacks and yanked them up. Swiftly she pulled up the zip, then went to the mirror and ran her fingers through her hair.
"What a pity," she sighed "We'll have to leave it till later, won't we! I'd better let Toni in now."
With a little pout she went out of the room and later I heard her say:
"Hello darling!" Then there was a short sotto voce conversation which I couldn't hear properly, after which mother and slightly nervous daughter entered the room.
"Good evening, sir. Mummy told me to come." Toni said respectfully.
"Yes, so I understand," I replied. "Your mother has just informed me of the...er...arrangement."
Mrs. Sharpe, standing just behind her daughter, made a face at me, then taking Toni's arm, brought her to the centre of the room. "Slip your coat off dear, and we can get this over ever so quickly."
Before Toni could protest her coat was off and she had been turned to face the table.
"Now bend over the cushion dear," her mother ordered, urging her forward. "That's right! Now hold the other side of the table and bend your knees. Yes, that's it. Now be a good girl and it will soon be over."
"Are you ready?" she asked, turning to me. I nodded, picked up the cane, and stationed myself to the girl's side.
Turning back to her daughter, Mrs. Sharpe gathered up the hem of her little skirt and the slip beneath it, and folding them neatly, tucked them firmly round Toni's waist.
Stepping back she cast a critical - or approving - eye over her daughter's rear aspect, then went quickly around the table, laid her hands on Toni's shoulders, and looked at me expectantly.
Raising the cane, I held it poised while I studied the view presented to me. Long, slim, suntanned legs pressed tightly together, and, from the junction of her thighs to her tiny waist a pair of gleaming, white cotton panties filled beautifully with a pair of plumply rounded buttocks. A smaller edition of her mother, and just as spankable, but with an aura of girlish innocence that was quite alluring.
Somehow it seemed churlish to bring pain to those sweetly rounded cheeks which appeared to implore caresses and cherishment, but then common sense prevailed. This naughty little minx deserved, and had asked for, the punishment she was now waiting so expectantly for.
Hardening my heart, I zipped the cane across the soft bulge of her bottom just above her thighs. The effect was dramatic. A moment of silence, then, as her bottom jumped in reaction to the sudden sting of the cane, her head turned and she gave me a look of anguished astonishment, emitting a long, shrill "oooooh!" of pained protest.
I'm no sadist, and I don't believe in prolonging what I know is a very painful experience, so I delivered the next one the moment her bottom reflexed up again. The cane was obviously a lot more painful than Toni had imagined it was going to be, and she didn't like it at all. Her legs kicked wildly as she struggled to get up, but her mother had other ideas, and pressing down hard on her recalcitrant daughter's shoulders, she said:
"Toni! For goodness sake stay still! You've only had two!"
"B-b-but Mummy!" Toni blubbered, "it hurts! Please let me get up. Please mummy!"
"No!" came the uncompromising reply. "You asked for the cane and now you are going to get it!"
Mrs. Sharpe gave me a little smile and a nod, and I swept the slender rod hard and full across the middle of her daughter's still wriggling bottom.
"Aaaaaahhh no! No! Please sir, please mummy!" Toni wailed desperately, twisting her hips from side to side in a natural effort to escape further punishment, but unfortunately for her as she rolled away from me with her legs drawn up, the left cheek of her bottom was thrust up so invitingly that the cane seemed, of its own accord, to find the perfectly presented target.
A strangled gasp followed by a sob, then a flood of tears, testified that it had hurt considerably more than the previous strokes, and I wasn't surprised to see Toni collapse across the table sobbing bitterly.
Mrs. Sharpe looked at me with raised eyebrows as I stepped back and dropped the cane onto a chair. Realising that I had no intention of completing the punishment, she helped Toni to her feet, and with soft, soothing noises, led the weeping girl to the bathroom.
There was just enough whisky left to make it worth drinking, so making a mental note to get more tomorrow, I upended the bottle and, with a glass in one hand and a cigarette in the other, awaited the return of the ladies. Mrs. Sharpe appeared first.
"Toni's all right now. She's stopped crying and is dabbing her eyes - and her bottom - with cold water" she said cheerfully, then looked at me quizzically and commented, "You're a strange man you know. I'm certain that most men, given the chance to cane a naughty girl's bottom, especially one who had connived to get a caning in the first place, would have thoroughly enjoyed themselves, yet you didn't seem to be getting any pleasure out of it at all. When she started to cry, you even let her off the last two strokes. Why? She could have been trying it on! Girls are perfectly well aware of the potency of tears!"
"Do YOU think she was kidding?" I asked.
She shook her head. "No I don't."
"Well I didn't either, and I stopped because I thought she'd had enough - for a first time caning anyway. Her bottom will show the evidence for a day or so!"
"Ooh you should see it," said Mrs. Sharpe enthusiastically "Three angry weals right across both cheeks and one really thick one on the left side only. That last one you gave her was a real zinger, wasn't it! Funny, I always thought weals were bright red, but that one's white - like tram lines!"
"It will turn red, blue and then purple," I told her, "and the marks will show for several days. I expect she will sleep face down tonight and find it a bit irksome sitting down tomorrow. Still that was the object of the exercise, wasn't it!"
"Oh I think it will work," her mother said. "I don't imagine she will be at all eager for a repeat performance." She paused, hesitated and then murmured, "Tell me honestly, would you have stopped after four if it had been me across that table?"
I laughed. "Ah now that would be a different thing altogether. Sometimes women are caned for reasons other than the obvious one."
"Oh are they?" she replied, with an air of innocence that belied her expression. "But supposing I had done something really naughty and deserved a jolly good whipping -"
"Well, the answer is to do something really naughty, then you'll find out!" I replied lightly, and in my mind was the vision of her bottom as her slacks had fallen.
"Does it still sting?" I asked, for her hands were behind her, cradling her bottom.
"Sting? Oh no," She seemed to have come out of a daydream. "Not any more. I can still feel it but it's just a little tingle, a glow. It's really quite nice."
"A damn good spanking produces a nice glow too and I believe it can be quite...stimulating!" I remarked casually.
"Oh does it really? How interesting!" she said, blushing, then picked up Toni's coat. "I think Toni should be ready to go home by now. Perhaps I could come round one evening -" she paused "and we could have a long chat about spanking. Soon?"
"As soon as you like," I said confidently " but don't wear slacks next time."
"Don't you like women in trousers?"
"Oh sure...and on you they look fabulous. Just that skirts make things...easier."
She grinned, her face flushed. "Really! You are a dreadful man! I suppose you'd like me to leave my knickers off too!"
"Good idea!" I grinned and she gasped in mock reproof, then walked off in search of her daughter with gait that produced an eye catching sway to her hips.
I wonder if she will, I mused, or is she just having me on?
Toni looked little the worse for wear as she was led from her retreat. Cheeks a little pink, and walking rather stiff-legged. She kept her eyes downcast, refusing to meet mine as I opened the door for them.
"Good night and thank you," Mrs. Sharpe said on the doorstep. "Toni, manners. Say goodnight!"
"Night sir," Toni muttered in a husky whisper then her mother touched my hand and mouthed the word "tomorrow".