Laptop Spanking - Desktop Caning
This is a true story, originally published under my blogging pseudonym of 'Listy'.
A girl in her mid-twenties sits in a comfortable living room, opposite a middle-aged man and woman. They converse over a drink, although the conversation is a little stilted. Her mind appears to be elsewhere, eyes constantly flicking towards the desk at the other end of the room. A highly polished desk, with an illuminated desk-lamp casting a pool of light. A large blotter occupies the centre of the desk, with a couple of items laying in the semi-darkness at the far end, just outside the pool of light.
More detailed observation will begin to reveal one or two slightly incongruous details. They could be parents preparing to take their daughter out for the evening, and yet they do not appear to be preparing to leave. The older gentleman is smartly dressed in suit and tie, while the woman is wearing a print dress more suitable for a trip to church, or an office manager. While the younger woman's attire of crisp white blouse, grey pleated knee-length skirt and long blue knee-length socks is distinctly reminiscent of... a schoolgirl. Her occasional references to 'Sir and 'Miss' tend to confirm this impression.
The girl is clearly ill at ease. She shifts restlessly in her seat, clearly wanting to be somewhere else. Possibly her bottom is too warm and prickling, for not half an hour before she had been face down across the man's knee, having her bottom soundly spanked. And immediately prior to that she had been stripped, measured, and dressed in her present garb by the woman. What else had transpired within the privacy of the bedroom is a secret shared between the women, but they had been gone for quite some time.
The girl suddenly rises to her feet and goes to stare out of the window into the darkness. Silently she turns, biting her lower lip, clearly with something weighing heavily on her mind. She steps hesitantly across the room and stands beside the desk, staring intently at the objects at the far end. She touches the desk surface, almost reverently, and slowly seats herself in the adjacent leather desk chair, eyes downcast. After several minutes of intense contemplation her hand reaches towards the object nearest to her. Her eyes glance between the older couple, as if seeking permission, her finger-tips lightly caressing the strip of black leather. Curiosity gets the better of her and she gently lifts the object into the palm of her hand. Reverently she stares down at it, turning it over in her hand, gently fingering the three fingers that extend two thirds of its length. A hesitant murmur escapes her lips, but nothing more. She knows its purpose, and understands its presence on the desk.
She slowly and very carefully replaces the tawse, precisely where it had lain. Again the glance, fearing rebuke, sensing two pairs of eyes scrutinising her every movement. When none comes, her finger-tips reach hesitantly towards the other object. It scrapes lightly on the desk surface and her hand jerks away, but she cannot help herself and the hand tentatively touches again. She bites her lip harder, and lifts the long thin rod with utter reverence, resting it in her lap, gazing down. Her fingers caress its surface, tracing the nodules that interrupt its length. She turns it over and over in her hands, fixated by it, and intrigued by the U-shaped curve at one end.
The girl has fantasized about the imminent events of this night for as long as she has been old enough to fantasize. She is soon to be bent face-down across this desk. Her skirt will be raised and placed over her back, and her knickers lowered to mid-thigh. She is soon to be caned across her bare backside for the first time.
The man repeats the instructions she was given earlier. She may take as long as she needs, but when she is ready, she is to place herself across the desk in readiness. He is eager, having waited for this moment for a long time, but anxious that he controls his own desires with due regard for her naivety. The woman smiles quietly to herself, understanding the girl's trepidacious excitement, being no stranger to the cane being laid across her own bottom.
Time stands still. Then a shuddering intake of breath and the girl walks slowly around to the other side of the desk. She tentatively rests her palms on the surface, and then stretches herself forwards to rest her upper body flat against the cool wood.
'Sir' straightens her legs and guides her feet backwards until they rest on her toes, her buttocks upthrust in readiness.
"Give her twelve on her knickers and we will see how she does."
The man passes the cane to the older woman and seats himself at the desk, taking the girl's hands in his, gazing deeply into her eyes. Meanwhile 'Miss' is very slowly raising the girl's skirt over her out-thrust bottom, clearly relishing the moment. She takes her time, carefully arranging her skirt neatly on the girl's back, and then arranging and smoothing her white cotton knickers to perfection. The man talks quietly and reassuringly to the girl, ensuring she understands all that she has been told. The cane is laid across her bottom, waiting.
The girl looks into the man's eyes. "Please cane me, Sir." The signal is given.
'Miss' lifts the cane away and with a gentle 'swoosh' it arcs back down to plant the first stripe. The girl tenses, then jerks, her face winces as the pain makes itself felt.
"Good girl, good girl..." The man calms her.
"One, thank you, Miss." The signal to continue is given confidently enough. Close inspection of the girl's face reveals she is in a place far away.
The cane is raised for a second time, to be followed by its trademark low whistle through the air. The girl takes the strokes well, and before halfway she is relaxed enough to thrust her rear in anticipation of the next.
'Miss' delivers the final stroke and places the cane on the desk. She eases the girls knicker-legs up over her cheeks in order to inspect her marks, and places a lingering kiss on each bare buttock. Faint pink lines are evident, but they will fade soon enough.
The older couple smile at each other, and exchange places. 'Sir' cups the girls bottom with both hands, rubbing and tenderly squeezing the firm flesh.
"Knickers down for you, my girl."
His tone brooks no argument as his fingers hook into her waistband and he slowly lowers her white pants over her bottom. He arranges them carefully, leaving them caught around the widest point of her thighs where she will feel their positioning most keenly. The cane clatters as he picks it up, and then lightly smacks across her rear as he takes aim.
This time the cane whistles more meaningfully through the air, and lands with a distinctly audible 'snick'. A pair of white impact lines rapidly infuse with red to become classic cane tram-lines. 'Sir' canes harder.
The girl takes the stroke well, hardly flinching, and her bottom begs for more. This is what she dreamed about for all those years. The cane is raised again...