The final strap pulled tight over the small of my back, leather against flesh. And then to my surprise I felt Anderson's hands brushing my cheeks. Something rubbery and large was pushed gently into my mouth, forcing my jaw open wide. I bit down on it as a strap was fastened around the back of my head. I had been gagged. Even if I changed my mind halfway through, even if the cane was too much for me to stand, I would not be able to protest. Around the rubber obstruction of the gag I could hear myself whimpering softly with arousal and fear.
The next thing I heard was the sound of Anderson picking up the cane.
Seconds stretched out, and I lay there face down, unable to see what was happening behind me. I could feel the pulse pumping in my sex. I could feel my tense limbs tight against the restraints. My heart thudded fit to burst.
Just do it, I wanted to scream at him. Just get it over with.
I heard the swish of the cane cutting the air a moment before it hit my flesh. The pain was excruciating. A white hot whipline of hurt across my backside. My teeth clamped down automatically on the gag and a scream stifled in my throat.
A second stroke cracked down. Agony. I bucked and struggled against the restraints to no avail. Around the gag I screamed at the top of my lungs, but the only sound that emerged was a muffled groan. Another stroke landed, and another. My bottom was burning, the pain mounting with each stroke that landed. Hot tears sprang to my eyes and I bit down on the gag, seeking a distraction from the pain.
There was none. The lashes kept coming hard and fast. If Anderson could hear my muffled moans and screams and yelps he paid them no attention whatsoever. No matter how I squirmed there was no escaping the whip. Why had I gotten myself into this? What had I been thinking?
Another, swish, another crack, another blaze of sudden pain. I was crying in earnest now, tears falling freely down my face. My arms and legs trembled, weak from pain, weak from struggling. How many lashes had there been? Fifteen, maybe twenty? Each one seemed to fall in exactly the same place and the pain was unbearable now, overwhelming. There was no room for any thought in my head except when the next lash would fall, and the sharp, burning sting it would cause.
I clung to the bench, buried my face into the leather, sobbed and prayed that it would be over soon, that he would let me off. I wouldn't be able to stand it much longer. Swish! Crack! A scream tore from my throat, emerging as a strangled yelp aroung the gag. Tears and spittle covered my face. If I had been able to speak I would have begged, pleaded, apologised, screamed...
Everything else in the world was distant, unimportant. It was only me and Anderson and the bench and the whip.
The cane slashed across my backside again, and I shuddered. Any resistance I had in me had disappeared, drained away. I was a wreck, broken and pathetic and helpless.
Swish. Crack.
Swish. Crack.
No more, I thought desperately. Please no more. I bit down on the gag so hard it must have left marks in the rubber. But no matter how hard I willed the punishment to be over, the lashes kept falling. There was no escape; I wasn't even free to flinch away from the pain.
And then, at last, at the very moment I thought I must surely pass out from the pain, it stopped.
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