The pound coin in my other hand is annoying me and I need somewhere to put it so I bend down and slide it into your quim and tell you not to let it drop out. I can sense that you squeeze your thighs a little tighter and that makes your bottom cheeks tense and I spank them hard, leaving red imprints on each globe. Three minutes pass and your bottom glows; a beautiful rich ruby that I want to kiss all over but I am playing the stern master and so I go and fetch the feather duster and slide its tickling end between your thighs and tease you. I remind you not to let the coin drop as I see the edge of it sparkling and then I tickle you along your groove and watch you wriggle and squirm before I start to spank your thighs hard, edging them apart and making your job harder. The duster returns to your pussy and you writhe and wiggle and suddenly the pound falls and thuds on the carpet.
I pick it up and place it on your tongue and tell you to look after it there as I begin to spank your pussy lips, punishing them for dropping the coin. They react differently to your buttocks, softer, squashier, slipperier and the pain is different too as I can tell from your moans that increase in pitch and frequency. Three minutes there is enough to make the lips swell and throb under my palm. I roll the paper a little tighter then insert one end slowly inside your wetness, easing it up as your quim spreads wider then out as I see the staining patch decorate the print. Back in further and further until at least nine inches are inside you and then I make you stand and hold it in place as you face the wall in the corner of the room-a maid in disgrace.
Twenty minutes pass and you keep it there even as the paper becomes soggier as your wetness soaks into it and finally I pluck it out of you and toss it away. You bend over obediently and I take a peg and attach it to your labial lip on the right side. I thread a thin piece of elastic through the metal hole in the spring and tie it tightly then pull the elastic round your buttocks and hips and attach it to another peg which I clip onto the other labial flap and I hear you squeal as the pegs pull you wide. I allow you to drop your skirt and then I give you other tasks to complete and I watch you wince as the pegs bite into you as you walk out of the room to begin your jobs. There are tears in your eyes when you have finished and my heart goes out to you but I stay stern and strict and I tell you to go upstairs and after removing your clothing, to bend over the foot of the bed.
I walk up silently several minutes later, standing still on the landing and staring through the doorway to find your bare bottom facing me, raised and ready, while your head rests on the bed with your arms outstretched in front of you. It is such a marvellous sight that I leave you there longer as I stand and admire the glorious fullness of your bottom and then the wide splayed lips of your labia and the glistening pinkness within which contrasts with the darker fringed hole above it. I watch your buttocks flex and then tense up before spreading wider as you relax while the thighs tremble slightly with the effort of holding your bottom so high.
The first crack of the thick cane across your arse cheeks makes you howl and jerk forward as I give you no warning but creep into the room and bring my arm down hard. The second is gentler, a tickling stroke across your quivering rump as is the third and then I cut deeper and hard with the fourth. I allow myself no set pattern so that you cannot prepare yourself in advance for the searing strokes that leave thick red tramlines of bruised flesh behind. Twelve strokes leave you sobbing and wriggling desperately to try and ease the pain and I know that you are so keen for me to slide inside you and take your mind off the agony that is spiking into your body. I am strict though, a Victorian master in outlook and attire and so I lay six more strokes on, tracing a series of parallel stripes across your tender thighs.
Each makes you cry out and I think of the saltiness that is being shed for me and smile widely before I slide the tip of the cane into your tight groove and move it gently back and forth. I make you stand and put your hands on your head as the cane slips through your quim lips and then I still it halfway and tell you to clench it tight and to bring your thighs in together. Then I spank you, filling in the gaps where the cane has not touched you, warming your arse and reddening it, painting a picture in mottled reds and purples and pinks while you stand with tears dripping down slowly and steadily, a miniature waterfall that bathes your breasts. I catch a droplet and smooth it round your nipple slowly, feeling the bud rise and swell at my touch. I retrieve the cane and find it stained with your sweet nectar and I place it against your mouth and make you hold it between those lips instead so that you can taste yourself while I spank you harder, long crisp smacks that make you hiss and gasp.
