Miss Hunter had Abigail stand and she walked them both into the room he had viewed from the outside. She noted that his face had a distinct look of shame, rather than guilt. As Abigail walked eagerly to the chair, looking back to ensure he had not lost his senses completely and fled, Miss Hunter took his arm;
"I know this is all difficult for you to take in, but I intend to make things very comfortable for you here; all the young ladies at this establishment are over 18" she looked deep into his eyes and smiled wickedly;
"I know just why they appeal to you, and you should not be ashamed of yourself-it is a basic failing in all males. This particular penchant you have goes hand in hand with an opposite attraction for older women does it not?" She stroked his erect cock, which jumped to attention; he could not deny he had just as strong feelings for assertive mature women, and he knew she knew this.
"Please smile for me. I intend to take a personal hand in your guidance now you have agreed to stay; I promise you will not regret your decision." He knew his 'decision' was really hers.
He smiled just the same and Miss Hunter squeezed his cock as she leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips. He knew from that moment on that she would have a hold on him that he could never be released from.
Abigail had been tied to the leather chair by the two red-headed attendants who had secured Cindy. They now kneeled out of the way of the cane and eyed expectantly the mature male with erect phallus who was going to punish the captive. Cindy was sprawled over the knees of the naked Miss Proctor, who was gently applying cold cream to the grateful nymphs red cheeks.
He looked down the room and noted there was a bed with white silk sheets at the other end with chairs arranged either side of it. Miss Hunter saw him glance at the bed whispered encouragement to him;
"When you have administered the five strokes we will all go down there; everything will be ok, trust me" he was not sure what she meant but was compelled to do as she asked, and was eased by the enthusiastic atmosphere of those in attendance. Miss Hunter strutted over to Abigail and rubbed her hand on the delightfully exposed cheeks. He noticed the sweet sex of the red-head quiver and protrude as her mistress taunted her;
"Abigail Fisher, you have been a very bad girl indeed. You have been deceitful to a man who is now in my employ. What should we have him do?"
The sweet waif flexed her slender arms and legs against the tension of the silken cords that bound her, her white flesh glowed against the soft black leather, Miss Hunter pulled her soft red hair away from her back and laid it over her shoulder.
"Please may he cane me, Miss Hunter" The two attendants discretely fondled themselves as the spectacle unfolded.
"How many strokes are you owed" Said Miss Hunter.
"I should want five; Miss Proctor has shown me one already" said the captive, flexing her bottom as she eyed the hairy middle-aged man with arms which were a great deal more muscular than either of the women who had both enjoyed caning her before. His cock bobbed as he watched that sweet bottom quiver.
"You shall have six! Our new man was cheated of the first; we cannot have that, can we?"
"Oh yes please", said Abigail, rubbing her face impatiently on the soft leather chair. She looked at him as he came closer to her; she looked up almost lovingly at him. He could sense she was scared, but this seemed to excite her all the more.
"Oh Miss; I think I may wet myself", she pleaded with a studied tone of embarrassment.
"You know if you do you shall suffer an extra stroke!" said Miss Hunter, in a studied assertive tone, as she smiled at the waif as if to congratulate her. She stood back.
"Cane her!" She commanded. He faltered as he lifted for the first stroke; he was not sure that he really wanted to do this- the form before him was the epitome of innocence and it wrangled with his conscience. She looked up at him and pushed her little round white bottom as far up as she could manage.
"Can me, I beg you!" she cried out with impatience; he brought the cane down with a whoosh that was delicious to her ears. He struck her just above the line of her thighs at the lowest part of her bottom. She squealed with pain and her bottom flexed for the second time that day, but this time she felt a hidden ecstasy too. He was caning her, and she knew what was to follow.
He brought it down again, this time cutting a perfect line mid buttocks which produced just as excited a squeal as the smart line of impact blushed from pink to bright red. She sobbed with joy and pain as she watched him flex again. The third stroke bit home with the most elegant of deliveries; the two mistresses clapped at his accomplishment as her bottom lifted and splayed as she enjoyed the kiss of the rattan.
Whoosh! The fourth had the tears dripping from the poor waif's face, and he noticed her sex was almost as equally moist. The fifth had her buck as the tensioners loosened slightly with her punished reactions. She sobbed and never took her eyes from him until the point of Impact. Her bottom glowed.
He was beginning to enjoy tormenting her now, and the ladies clicked away with cameras. He knew they had him now, with all that evidence. He lifted his arm for the sixth and final stroke; he would make her pay for her deceit. She looked away from him and lifted her head and whimpered as the cane cut through the air to meet its soft reward. Whup! She wailed and looked at Miss Hunter; the waif's sweet little womanhood bulged and she gushed a stream of hot pee which trickled down the black leather. Miss Hunter crossed her arms and smiled at him;
"She has earned a seventh stroke; make her pay dearly for wetting my furniture!"