Caned? On A Train?

I think we all know where this is going:

We were in Australia, leaving Sydney by train. As we had just been visiting kinky friends there, HH was armed and dangerous. I can’t honestly remember now what it was I did or said (possibly nothing), but HH looked around and commented that the train was virtually empty, that we had the entire carriage to ourselves.

“Don’t even think about it,” I muttered, eyeing my surroundings warily. (Note to bottoms: NEVER say this to a top.)

His eyebrows climbed to his hairline and I saw the gleam in his eye as he stood up slowly to get his case down from the overhead compartment. I looked around frantically. “Someone will come!” I insisted.

But he was determined to take advantage of the situation. And to be honest, I was a little excited by the prospect. I’m all in favour of taking risks.

So he made me bend over the seats on the right side while he stood in the aisle and measured the cane across my bottom. Tap, tap, tap… Then he paused.

“This isn’t going to have much effect,” he said.

Thank God, I thought. He’s come to his senses!

“Take your shorts down.”


But I was a good girl and I did as I was told. I even managed to restrain my yelps as he brought the whippy rattan down on my bare cheeks again and again.

And go there it does — thanks, Niki!

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