Good evening, Saturday Spankings Bloghoppers. In Ken Charles's "Psyche & Metaphysic" found in the Two Sides of a Bent Mind 10 story collection by Ken Charles and Charlie Kenmore coming soon, a young lady is gravely wronged by a school mate Priscilla Andrews who steals away her beloved. She takes exquisite revenge, but first....
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Thwack!
“Twenty-two. Thank you, Sir. May I
have the next?”
I was sentenced to two dozen strokes
with a cane. Have you ever been caned, Cousin? It was horrid. Do you remember
the time when Auntie caught us helping ourselves to Mrs. Johnson’s preserves? I
thought Auntie’s lesson in manners with her hairbrush would never end. But the
cane is much worse!
First, I had to bend over the
Deacon’s desk, and grip the far side. Mrs. Tomkins came over and turned up my
dress and petticoats. I was scared and embarrassed. Someone was lecturing me
about my outrageous behavior, but I really did not hear much of it. At some
point, Mrs. Tomkins lowered my knickers. Matters became much clearer a moment
later.
Thwack!
A line of fire exploded across the
middle of my bare bum! I gasped. Surely that stroke was more than sufficient
punishment.
“Since you failed to thank me and
count the stroke, we will begin again!”
“Count the ...?”
Thwack!
I remembered! I was to receive
twenty-four strokes, which I was required to count. Further, since this woeful
procedure was for my edification, I was required to express my gratitude for
each stroke.
“Two! Thank you, Sir!” May you burn
forever in the hottest depths of Hades!
“That was only one, Miss Ginn.
Perhaps you forgot that I had to start over.”
“No, Sir. One, Sir.”
Thwack!
A third line of lava erupted just
below the other two. A fourth, fifth and then a sixth searing stroke soon
followed. Six flaming furrows blazed across my backside. I wept softly, but
kept track of each cut. A seventh stroke cut diagonally across its six parallel
predecessors, “barring the gate”. I screamed and jumped up. My hands flew to my
poor bottom.
“Get back into position! No one gave
you permission to rise or to rub your bottom.”
“P-Please, S-Sir. Let me have a
moment.”
I have never known such exquisite
pain, and pray never to know it again. There was no way that I could take
another seventeen cuts. I was certain that I would swoon.
“Back into position! Andrews, go
around the desk and hold her hands.”
Strangely, aside from a commutation
of my sentence, that was the nicest thing the Deacon (may he choke on a chicken
bone) could have said. The pain was in no manner diminished, yet suddenly it
was no longer foremost in my mind. Instead, all of my attention focused on the
smirking visage of the one who would soon pay for these atrocities. I wiped the
tears from my eyes. I wanted to watch Andrews without any distortion. As I
leaned back over the desk, I knew that I would get through this ordeal, without
shedding another shameful tear.
The doleful depuration continued, as
the Deacon was determined to deracinate my depravities. The Deacon changed
sides to deliver strokes eight through twelve from the other side. It did not
really matter, a thousand bee stings is a thousand bee stings. I counted
dutifully and obsequiously. At thirteen, the Deacon changed sides again.
Thwack!
“Thirteen, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
Thwack!
“Fourteen, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
It is extraordinary how time distends
itself. Although I was in the Deacon’s study for no more than fifteen minutes,
I had hours to plan an appropriate reward for the treacherous Miss Andrews.
Most certainly there would be pain, and copious amounts of it in fair
recompense for my extraordinary discomfort and discommodity. But there would
have to be something more. Indeed, there would have to be something to show
dear Robert that I, alone, was worthy of his affections.
Thwack!
“Twenty-three, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
Thwack!
“Twenty-four, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
I looked up at Priscilla, and caught
her eye. I smiled. Priscilla shuddered, and released my hands. Curiously, she
was no longer smirking.
KC Copyright 2005; Moral rights to be identified as the author of “Psyche & Metaphysic" asserted worldwide (including in Great Britain in accordance with Sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act of 1988)
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Check out the great new review by Rollin Hand for The Mercies of Cinderella at Spanking Stories Book Club.http://writercelestejones.blogspot.com/
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An Open Apology for “Capcha”:
I love to hear your comments. Every author loves to hear positive comments. Every author who is serious about improving her or his work should at least give thoughtful consideration to constructive negative comments, the key word being “constructive”. Sorry about the “Capcha”, but I had a run in with some nasty trolls a while back. I’d no sooner block a name, than the same individual (same misspelled words and grammatical errors) would post under another name. I had to add moderation to the comments. I didn't realize that moderating at my end added a “capcha" at yours. Once again, sorry for any inconvenience. CK
I love to hear your comments. Every author loves to hear positive comments. Every author who is serious about improving her or his work should at least give thoughtful consideration to constructive negative comments, the key word being “constructive”. Sorry about the “Capcha”, but I had a run in with some nasty trolls a while back. I’d no sooner block a name, than the same individual (same misspelled words and grammatical errors) would post under another name. I had to add moderation to the comments. I didn't realize that moderating at my end added a “capcha" at yours. Once again, sorry for any inconvenience. CK
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Check out the rest of the fun at the Saturday Spankings Bloghop http://saturdayspankings.blogspot.com/
Filled with emotion... "Curiously, she was no longer smirking"... just about sums up this very visual and wonderfully exampled snippet's tale...
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