It was a crisp fall afternoon as I approached the three-story brick house. My hands were tucked into the pockets of my short wool coal against the chill, and I clutched the essentials in my pockets as I walked: phone, wallet, keys. My heart was racing, and my breath came in quick gasps that the wind whipped away.
I was dressed as he had told me he wanted: school-girl inspired without being crass or ridiculous. I had chosen brown leather oxfords, a pleated burgundy skirt, and a black long sleeve v-neck t-shirt. Matching black lingerie underneath. I normally would have worn a garter belt and stockings but it wasn't quite cold enough, and I liked to feel the crisp air against my legs and under my skirt.
I checked the address on my phone a final time before taking a deep breath and walking up the flight of stairs to the door. I could feel my heartbeat in my ears. I could still turn back. But I knew I wouldn't. This was what I wanted so badly; I wasn't afraid, just nervous.
I had been very clear in my personal ad: college girl seeks older, college professor type for hard caning. No sex. Not at first at least. Anyone could give me sex, and I most definitely needed something more right now. He had responded, and he was just what I needed. An attractive, successful, tenured history professor at a renowned university. With plenty of experience beating willing little girls.
I smoothed my bangs with one hand and then rang the doorbell. After a moment I heard footsteps quickly approaching. A quick click and he opened the door.
He was just like his pictures; just like I had wanted. Tall, late 40s, salt and pepper hair. Handsome and fit. Black leather dress shoes, charcoal slacks, pale blue button-up rolled up to his elbows.
"Hello. You must be Ruby." He didn't smile but his eyes were bright with excitement.
"Yes. Hi," I smiled and almost laughed with anxiety. But lord knows I didn't find this funny.
He smiled very slightly in return. "Please come in".
He stepped aside and I slipped past him into the hall. The house was beautiful and old: I was standing in a hallway, ornate staircase to my left, closed doors all the way down. I think the back opened into the kitchen. Dark wood paneling. Tall ceilings. My body shivered with excitement.
"May I take your coat?" he asked. His hands were already on my shoulders.
"Oh! Yes, please." The simple touch was making my heart pound all over again.
He slipped the coat off my shoulders and hung it on the rack by the door.
"Second door on the right," he instructed with a slight touch on the small of my back. Without saying anything I obeyed; the door was closed but the knob turned easily in my hand. I walked into what must have been his office or study. Every wall was floor to ceiling bookshelves, a huge mahogany desk under the window and a large leather sofa opposite. He was every bit the respectable college professor I was looking for.
He followed me in and shut the door behind me. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to sit, so I stood in the room awkwardly, my hands playing anxiously with the hem of my skirt.
He easily strolled past me to lean against the desk. Damn, he smelled good too. He took me in for a minute, and I imagined what he must see: 21-year-old college girl, medium height, brown hair past my shoulders, large breasts for my frame, slender but curvy. I hoped he liked what he saw.
"So, Ruby, why don't you tell me why you came here today?"
I felt myself grow hot. "I...ah...I want to...I want to be caned, please."
He smiled. "Is that so?"
"Yes," I whispered.
"And is that how you'd like to refer to me?"
I felt hotter, I must be bright red by now. "Ah...no. No, Sir."
"Oh, that's better." He lifted one leg so that he was now sitting on the desk, one leg on the floor, the other spread out. "So, Ruby, why do you want to be caned?"
"Because...I like the way it makes me feel, Sir."
"And how does it make you feel?"
"Happy. Calm. Cleansed." I paused. "Sore."
"You're not looking to me punished, are you."
It wasn't a question, but I answered anyway. "No. I want this because I like it."
He chuckled. "Silly little pain slut, aren't you."
I swallowed but didn't respond. I felt like I could feel everything in the room. And I was so aware of my body. The air against my skin, the cotton of my shirt, my feet on the floor. And the growing electricity in my pussy.
"Why don't you make me a drink, Ruby. Do you know how to make an old fashioned?" I nodded and he pointed to a bar by the desk that I hadn't noticed before. I could feel his eyes on me as I mixed the drink. I knew he was looking at every inch of me, watching my actions, thinking and judging. I was fully clothed but somehow I felt naked.
When I was done, I turned and handed him the drink. I didn't make eye contact.
He took a sip. "Good girl. Not bad for a little pain slut."
I felt my pussy clench at the words.
"Now, why don't you turn around and bend over the arm of the sofa. Put that cute little ass in the air for me." I didn't hesitate. I wanted this so badly my body ached. I did as he said, feet planted firmly, ass high in the air, face pressed into the leather. My hair fell and covered my face so I couldn't see anything but the seat in front of me.
For a long time the room was silent except for the clinking of ice as he sipped his drink. I could feel the air on my upper thighs but my skirt still covered my ass. I wanted to feel the sting so badly. My heart beat fast with anticipation.
After what felt like forever I heard him walk over to me. At first he just stood there. I could hear him breathing, smell his scent, feel the warmth of his body near mine. Then he touched me. I wasn't expecting it: he stroked my hair, traced his hand down my back to my waist, scratched his nails over my hips. He skipped my ass entirely, rubbing my thighs as he sipped his drink.
The whole room must've smelled of my arousal, I thought.
Then, he very slowly slipped his hand up my thigh and under my skirt. He gently pulled the skirt up around my waist, revealing my ass and my black lace thong. He let out a very soft moan. It was almost like a growl.
"Slutty little black panties..." he breathed. His hand rubbed slow, deliberate circles over my ass. "And such a white little ass!" He feigned surprise, and carefully slid my panties down to just above my knees. "Too bad it won't be that color an hour from now."
Moments later I felt the first smack on my ass. It was fairly hard but I didn't react; I've been spanked many times before. He would work in a pattern—rub,
smack
, rub,
smack
. What merely stung at first compounded and as he warmed me up I began to squirm, making small noises of discomfort. He pulled his hand back and spanked me as hard as he could. I unthinkingly let out a small cry and one of my feet jerked upwards. He caught my ankle in his hand and flung it back towards the floor.
"You can make as much noise as you want but you stay in this position and do not move an inch. Ass stays up, head stays down, feet stay on the floor. Understood?"
"Yes, Sir," I gasped.
"Good. I know you want this but I can still make it hell for you. Trust me."
With that I heard him walk away from me, setting the drink down and opening the drawer below the bar. He came back over to me and placed several items on the sofa in my range of vision. I quickly took them all in: flogger, paddle, cane. We had only discussed the cane, not the others, but before I could think too hardly on it I heard his belt coming undone.
No sex
, I almost blurted out, though my body most certainly would have betrayed me at this point. But his intentions quickly became clear as I heard the sound of leather in the air milliseconds before the belt cracked on my tender ass.
I cried out, I couldn't help it. The belt had always been hard for me.
"Count for me. 10 strokes with the belt and then you can get what you want so badly."
The next was softer.
"One," I mumbled into the sofa. Sometimes you have to save your energy.
