textfiles/sex/EROTICA/K/katy.txt

Katy Caned

The following events took place only two years ago when I had
already graduated from University and had begun to train as
articled clerk to a solicitor.  

Late one Saturday evening my girlfriend Katy telephoned,
obviously in a very distressed state, and asked if she could
come round right away to see me.  I said that she could, of
course, and she immediately rang off.  I couldn't imagine what
it could be about, as Katy was not the sort of girl to get so
worked up by any minor mishaps.  

I had met her at University where she had studied English
while I had taken Law.  However after graduating she had been
unable to find a vacancy to train as a chartered accountant
immediately and she had to 'sign on'.  Then she had been
promised a position with a large firm to begin the following
March and had moved to London in readiness.  

When she arrived I asked her what had happened.  I knew that
in order to supplement her benefit money she had been acting
as a collector for a football pools company.  She now
confessed that in order to make more money she had in some
cases not forwarded the coupons and money but had kept it for
herself!  Katy had as usual checked all such coupons against
the results and had been terrified to realise that an old
couple whose money she had kept had just got a line with eight
score draws in it.  She didn't know what to do.  If her
actions were reported to the newspapers or the police she
thought that the publicity would mean her never being allowed
to become a chartered accountant.  She had come to me for help
because she didn't want her parents to know and also wanted to
avoid anyone else knowing whom she couldn't trust.  

I was very surprised to hear this confession but realised how
bad it could be for Katy.  To try to comfort her I said that
it was possible that the elderly couple, the Marlings, might
never check their coupons and realise that they ought to have
won.  Katy said she had thought of that but couldn't take the
risk that they might claim and be told by the Pools company
that there was no record of their coupon.  If that happened
she was sure that they would tell the police.  On the other
hand she didn't want to go there and confess and throw herself
on their mercy if otherwise they would never know about it.  

We talked for a long time and in the end I suggested that the
best thing would be if she went round to their house in the
morning to see if they were excited and thought they'd won, or
not.  If they did then she would have to tell them what she'd
done; otherwise Katy could take the chance if she thought it
was worth it.  

She stayed the night with me and I tried to help her to relax
a little but she stayed tense.  On the Sunday she left to go
to the Marlings at about 11 o'clock.  I wished her good luck
and asked her to come straight back and let me know what had
happened.  

She didn't come back for a long time and when she did return
it was obvious that there was bad news.  She told me that she
had arrived just as they were re-checking their coupon and
they thought she'd come to congratulate them.  She had told
them everything and begged them to give her a chance.  They
said that they would have to ask the advice of their son, the
headmaster of a local school, as they never took important
decisions without consulting him.  They phoned him up and he
came round straight away.  

As soon as he knew what had happened he said that the police
and the newspapers would have to be told.  Katy begged and
pleaded with him and told him how sorry she was, but it was no
use.  She tried to convince him that his parents wouldn't get
any benefit from telling their story and would just be
harassed by the publicity.   

 

But he pointed out that by her actions she had deprived an
elderly couple of probably several thousand pounds and that
when the story was published there would be a great wave of
public sympathy for his parents and many readers might well
donate money to them to make up.  Katy still tried to persuade
him and told him that if it became public she could never hope
to gain a professional qualification.  He simply said that the
name for what she had done was 'theft' and she should pay for
it.  

Katy told me that at this point she broke down and started to
cry.  Mr Marling looked at her for a while and then went over
to his parents and started whispering to them.  Katy suddenly
felt a ray of hope.  Then he came back and said that he
believed that Katy really was sorry and he was prepared to
give her a chance and not report her if she would agree to
accept some punishment from him.  As Katy told me this she
suddenly stopped speaking and blushed.  Somehow I guessed what
had happened - she'd said he was a local headmaster - he must
have suggested that he spank her!  I asked Katy and she said
no, worse than that.  He had told her that the only option he
would give her was a sound caning!  

He had let Katy go, saying that if she agreed she was to go
back to his parents' house at half past six that evening for
the caning; otherwise he would inform the press and the
authorities.  

I asked her what she was going to do and she said that she
thought she was going to have to let him cane her, but she was
terrified of how much it would hurt.  She asked me if I had
ever had the cane at school and I had to tell her that I
hadn't but that I knew from other boys in my class that it
hurt all right.  I asked Katy if Mr Marling had said how many
strokes he would give her.  "Yes," she said with a kind of
gulp, "sixteen!"  

I was astonished.  I blurted out, "You can't take that many on
your hands!"  Katy replied, "No, he said he would give me four
on the hands and the rest on my . . . behind."  

Once again she blushed deeply and then went on, "And it's even
worse.  He says that the caning has to be in front of his
parents and that I could only have one layer of clothing as
protection when . . . I bend over and he said that by that he
meant ordinary thin panties, and that if I tried to take
advantage by wearing thick panties or anything, he'd take them
down and cane me on the bare.  Oh, David, what shall I do?"  

I said that it was up to her, but if she really thought that
her whole future was at stake she should accept the caning.  I
said I knew it would hurt her, but she would get over the pain
of the caning and would then have all of her life ahead of
her.  But I told her to be careful because I knew the cane
really hurt a lot and this Mr Marling didn't seem inclined to
show her any favours.  

I took Katy out for a drink to try to steady her and help make
her mind up.  In the pub she told me that the worst corporal
punishment she'd ever had in her life was the ruler on the
hand at school.  She asked me if I knew whether the cane hurt
more on the hands or on the bottom.  I said that boys at my
school who'd had both said it hurt more on the hands but that
they'd been allowed the protection of trousers and pants.  She
drank four gin-and-tonics but showed no sign of getting drunk. 
We stayed in the pub until two o'clock and then went back to
my flat.  

I asked Katy if she had made her mind up.  She said that she
had no choice but to go through with it.  She asked if I would
mind please going with her as she didn't know what state she'd
be in to walk back afterwards and that, as her humiliation had
to be witnessed in any case, she would like me to be there as
a witness on her side in case Mr Marling went too far.  

I said that of course I'd do anything she wanted.  I suggested
that I draft a legal document by which Mr Marling would
promise not to report her and she agreed that this would be a
good idea.  I drafted something and showed it to Katy.  She
was surprised that I hadn't referred to her caning at all in
it.  This was because I was of the opinion that an agreement
based on this consideration would be void as contra bona mores
and I had therefore produced a covenant to be executed by Mr
Marling as this is valid whatever the consideration.  

Then I made a few more practical suggestions as poor Katy was
too overwhelmed to think straight.  I knew she was wearing
both panties and pantyhose under her skirt and suggested that
we went back to her flat so she could change.  She agreed.  

When we got to her flat we went to her bedroom where she tried
on different kinds of panties and bent over in each to see
which offered best protection.  By this time I had a very hard
erection and was on the brink of coming as I imagined what was
soon going to happen to the tender bottom that kept bending
down in front of me encased in various panties.  I suggested
that a particular pair - white with pink flowers - would be
the best.  Katy stood up and snapped at me, "You're enjoying
this, aren't you?"  I denied this, but said that of course the
sight of her bending down in panties excited me.  She said
angrily, "Well, simmer down.  I'm not in the mood at all."  

She kept the white-and-pink panties on, though, and changed
into a loose blue cotton skirt that could easily be lifted up
to disclose the target area.  Then I suggested that as some of
the strokes were to be given on her hands it would be a good
idea to remove her rings and her watch and to trim her
fingernails in case of accidents.  Katy was rather proud of
her fingernails, but agreed to cut them when I pointed out the
danger that a nail could be torn out if a stroke landed across
her fingertips.  

By this time it was past six o'clock and we got into my car
and drove to the Marlings.  Before we got out I hugged Katy
and kissed her and told her to be brave.  When we went in Katy
introduced me as her fianc<6E>, whom she had asked as a witness. 
She told them that I had a degree in Law and that I had
drafted an agreement.  Mr Marling looked at it, thought a bit,
and said that he would sign it - after the caning.  Katy and I
looked at each other and agreed.  Then he said, "Right, let's
get started," and led the way to another room.  

There were two seats at the opposite end of the room where his
parents went and sat.  In the middle of the room was a large
old-fashioned armchair which had obviously been moved there
from its normal position against the wall.  Across a coffee
table lay two canes.  They were both lightish brown in colour
and slightly curved with crook handles.  One, which was bound
near the handle with blue coloured tape, was about two feet
long and quite thin; the other was bound in red and was longer
and thicker.  

Mr Marling picked up the slender cane and beckoned to Katy to
come forward and stand where he wanted her.  He said, "This is
the prelude to the main part of your punishment - four strokes
on the hand with this cane.  It's the one I use on naughty
junior boys at my school, so it's not going to be so very
dreadful, but let me tell you - this cane stings and I intend
to make you feel it.  And let me give you a warning.  If you
take your hand away during this part of your punishment I will
not only make quite sure that you receive all four strokes but
for each such occasion you will receive two additional strokes
on your backside.  Now, Miss Notley, hold out your left hand." 


It was strange to hear him refer to her so formally, and in a
sarcastic tone, by her surname, but Katy did as she was told. 
He adjusted her hand until it was the right height for him. 
Then he raised the cane.  I was standing to one side and I
could see that Katy had closed her eyes tight and that her
lips were pressed together.  But she kept her hand held
steadily out.  

Suddenly Mr Marling slashed the cane down hard.  I was amazed
at the speed and violence of it landing on Katy's outstretched
palm.  She gasped with a sharp indrawn breath and jerked her
hand away, shaking it to try to assuage the sting.  Mr Marling
gave her a few moments and then said, calmly, "Now the other
hand, please."  Once again a hand was delicately held out and
the cane was slowly raised and then swished down to land with
a loud crack across the soft flesh of Katy's palm.  This time
her gasp was louder and she did a short dance of pain before
pressing her right hand between her side and her left arm.  I
was surprised at how hard Mr Marling was hitting her and how
little fuss Katy was making.  I was sure he couldn't cane his
school kids as hard as that.  

Then he said "Now the first hand again," and Katy had to
extend the already caned left palm for a second time.  Katy's
eyes were open again and I could see the tears welling in her
large blue eyes.  This time she cried out with the pain as the
stroke landed and it took her a long time to ready herself for
the last stroke of this part of her punishment.  I could see
that she had to use all of her willpower to keep her hand in
place.  I hoped against hope that she would be able to resist
the impulse to pull it away before Mr Marling brought the cane
down, thus earning herself the additional strokes on her
bottom she had been warned about.    

Just as the cane flashed downwards Katy did lose her nerve and
started to move her hand but the only effect was that it
lashed down right across her fingers and must have hurt even
more than the others.  Katy yelled wildly and started to cry. 
She danced about once again, waving her hands wildly.  Mr
Marling replaced the cane on the coffee table and picked up
the other, longer, cane.  His parents whispered something to
each other.  

Katy had seen nothing of this as she was obviously still
obsessed by the stinging pain in her hands.  Mr Marling
attracted her attention by walking round behind her and
swishing the cane across her back, not too hard but hard
enough to make her flinch and look up.  He then said "Well,
Miss Notley, that's got the preliminaries out of the way.  Now
we can start on the real caning.  This is the cane I use on
senior boys.  They don't often come back for a second dose!"  

He flexed the cane and clearly, despite its greater thickness,
it was just as wickedly supple as the first one.  He made a
couple of practise strokes through the air and the cane made a
hissing sound.  I dreaded to think of the effect that this
heavier cane would have on poor Katy's soft bottom, having
seen how much the lighter cane had hurt her.  

Mr Marling took hold of Katy, manoeuvred her to the armchair
and told her to bend over its side.  She gave me a glance full
of pain and fear, but than she complied.  As she slowly leaned
forward he roughly pushed her head down closer to the seat and
pulled up her skirt, pinning it into place.  The
pink-and-white panties were now displayed and clearly offered
no real protection to Katy's trembling bottom; a bottom at
which Mr and Mrs Marling senior were gazing in fascination.  

Their son spoke to Katy again.  "I intend this to hurt you a
good deal, Miss Notley, but I expect you to stay in place
until I give you permission to stand up.  Otherwise you'll get
those extra strokes you avoided so narrowly just now."

He raised the cane to shoulder height and drew it back,
pausing to take aim.  Stepping forward he delivered the stroke
so as to produce maximum force.  I heard the whack as the cane
landed and saw Katy's whole body shudder.  She squealed with
pain and kicked her legs, but remained bent over.  Before she
could have had time to recover Mr Marling whipped the cane
down for the second stroke.  

This time there was a louder yell and he allowed a longer time
before the next stroke.  Katy's sobs could be clearly heard
and I couldn't believe Mr Marling could be so completely
merciless, hitting my darling Katy so hard when she was
already in such pain.  However he showed no pity and, if
anything, the next two strokes were even harder.  After the
fourth Katy screamed with the pain and her hands instinctively
flew back to protect her bottom.  But it was only for a moment
and then by a great effort of willpower she took her hands
away and with a moan once more presented her agonisingly sore
bottom to Mr Marling's cane.  

Somehow she managed to take three more strokes delivered with
vicious force across her full-stretched panties.  Then, after
the seventh, Katy shot upright and covered her bottom with her
hands.  She hopped around and then stood jumping from one foot
to the other facing her tormentor.  Now I could see her
tear-stained face screwed up with pain.  Katy begged piteously
to be let off and screamed over and over again that she was
sorry and that she simply couldn't take any more.  

Mr Marling gave her time to scream herself out and then said
"You're only making it worse for yourself, Miss Notley. 
That's an extra two strokes - seven to go."  As he spoke I
could hear that he was panting slightly from his exertions. 
Katy would not bend down again but continued to hop about,
twisting and wriggling in pain with her cane-marked hands
holding her bottom.  Mr Marling asked me to try to persuade
her to submit to the rest of the punishment.  "Remember I can
still go to the papers," he said.  

I didn't know what to say to Katy.  I tried to comfort her and
tell her how brave she was, but it was no use.  In the end our
generous Mr Marling offered to let her off with only three
more strokes - if she would take them on her bared bottom
after taking her panties off!  

Still crying non-stop and squirming in pain, Katy considered
this awful choice for a long time - and then reluctantly
agreed.  

It was a heart rending business as the poor girl tried to use
her wealed and obviously still painful hands to ease her
panties off her devastated buttocks.  I almost started to cry
in sympathy.  At last Katy's panties were down to her ankles
and she started, ever so slowly, to bend forward again.  

Mr Marling, with an unctuous look on his face, suggested that
I should hold Katy in position for the last strokes so that
there would be no more 'interruptions'.  As I crossed behind
her I saw for the first time the horrible purplish weals and
the bruises beginning to form on the smooth white flesh of
Katy's bottom.  

I bent over her, holding her lightly, and trying to whisper
endearments to her.  I could feel her trembling and the
tremendous tension.  I didn't look at Mr Marling and the first
I knew of the next stroke was the whirring sound as it slashed
through the air.  Suddenly I felt Katy's whole body convulse
at the pain and she howled piteously, but I kept hold of her. 
She bucked and twisted frenziedly while Mr Marling waited,
watching her naked bottom, until she settled back after about
a minute, sobbing.  

The next stroke was even harder still and I felt the terrific
force of it as it smashed down onto Katy's unprotected and
terribly tender bottom.  She screamed again - inches from my
ear - and seemed unable to stop.  She was still screaming as
Mr Marling delivered the final stroke with undiminished venom. 
I continued to hold her as he admired the effects of his
handiwork etched across her backside and unpinned her skirt.  

Then I let Katy go, but she continued to sob into the seat of
the armchair as if her heart was broken.  Eventually she got
up and tried to stand still but wriggled and writhed, still
obviously in agony.  Tears were pouring from her cheek  onto
the carpet.  

Mr Marling went round and stood in front of her and said, "I
think that's taught you a lesson you won't forget, young lady. 
I don't imagine you'll be sitting down comfortably for a
couple of days.  And now I want you to go over and apologise
to my parents."  

Walking was obviously very painful.  Katy clamped her hands to
the back of the blue skirt, which had fallen back down over
her wealed bottom, to try to contain the pain and hobbled
towards Mr and Mrs Marling.  Her panties had fallen off during
her gyrations and I picked them up and put them in my pocket. 
Katy somehow managed to mumble something to the elderly couple
and Mr Marling said he would now sign the agreement, which he
did.  Then he said we could go.  

Each step must have been agony for Katy, but I managed to help
her out of the house and into the car.  I got her in it,
stretched face-down over the back seat with her feet on the
floor.  Luckily no-one was watching.  I've no idea how Katy
would have managed if she hadn't asked me to go with her.  

I drove her back to her flat and she was still sobbing when we
got there.  I helped her out of the car and upstairs.  She
went first of all to the bathroom and was sick.  I got her a
glass of water and cleared up a bit.  Then I got her to lie on
her stomach on the bed and carefully lifted up her skirt.  

Her bottom was a terrible sight, horribly swollen, covered
with bruises and marked with a frightful tracery of raised
weals.  Katy could hardly speak.  I decided the best thing to
do was to dip a couple of face flannels in cold water and
place them over her swollen bottom.  

I asked if she wanted me to stay with her but she said she
wanted to be left alone.  When I got home I couldn't help
masturbating over what I had seen.  I kept the panties Katy
had been wearing and put them away.  Next day I went round to
see Katy early, before work.  I had the key to her flat and
let myself in.  

Katy was lying on her bed, stark naked with an electric fan
directing cold air onto her bottom.  She got up when I came in
and walked very stiffly and slowly over to me.  I put my arms
around her and kissed and cuddled her, very delicately letting
my hand wander towards her bottom.  As I ran my fingers very
gently over her wealed rear I felt her quiver with pain and
press her body closer to mine.  Then she broke clear of my
arms.  I asked her how she felt and she said that her bottom
still throbbed awfully, but that her hands were all right. 
However I could still see the marks left by the cane on her
palms.  

That evening Katy felt better enough for me to take her down
to the pub - although she chose to stand up by the bar.  In
fact it was over a week before she could sit down properly
without wincing.  I tried to make love to her that night, but
she said her bruises were still too painful.  

The marks on Katy's bottom did not finally disappear until
several weeks after these events, but long before that our
relationship was back to normal again.  The experience left me
with a burning interest in the corporal punishment of girls,
but Katy, perhaps understandably, has no desire whatsoever to
be spanked.  Even if I playfully give her a tap on her bottom
she gets very annoyed.  I love Katy and plan to marry her, but
now you know why I read Janus and Privilege.  

 D R 

 London