Caning Barbara’s Tender Bits

Barbara has agreed to go to a most exclusive and mysteriously special school to please her old-fashioned and extremely wealthy grandmother. When she’s stripped and trussed to a punishment bench for a “welcome” caning by her enthusiastic young prefect, she begins to apprehend what a painful mistake she may have made. And then the fun begins:

Barbara was about to make another heartfelt plea for sanity when, without warning, her tautly curved bottom exploded in scalding agony.

“Caught you by surprise, didn’t I!” Thisbe sounded proud.

“Oh . . . oh . . . oh!” Barbara’s voice was a series of choked moans. “Oh, how could you! Oh, don’t you ever do that again.”

Thisbe did it again. To the ungrateful recipient it felt as though she had been cut in two. She was certain of some shocking wound. Try as she would to remain mute, small choking whimpers proclaimed her pain.

“Really hurts, doesn’t it!” Thisbe queried by way of consolation.

The wounded girl could think of no words awful enough for her need. But her main concern was that the blows should not continue. Undoubtedly this enthusiastic moppet was exceeding her authority unaware of the frightful damage she was doing to the frail flesh. “You mustn’t hit me anymore, Thisbe,” Barbara said firmly. “Please ask Miss Amory to come down here for a minute.”

“Why?” Thisbe sounded genuinely puzzled.

“Because I can’t stand it, that’s why.”

“Oh, is that all!” Thisbe laughed. “We all say that, y’know. I’d have thought a big girl like you would hardly notice a few with the cane. You’re almost a woman.”

“Age hasn’t anything to do with it. Such agony is impossible. It’s positively inhuman.”

“You mean like this?”

Thisbe struck with all her slender strength. Barbara screamed without restraint. The bound bottom seemed resonant with the sound. Its nerve ends radiated agony throughout the fastened nudity.

“You’re getting some lovely marks, darling.” Thisbe spoke with the assurance of a connoisseur. “You’ll be so proud.”

“Thisbe, stop it!”

Thisbe struck shrewdly into the lower curves. She knew from past experience where it hurt the most. “I expect that one touched you up a bit across that thing you don’t like to talk about,” she offered blandly.

“You’ve destroyed it,” Barbara affirmed vehemently when she had finished screaming. “I insist you call Miss Amory.”

“It just feels as though it’s ruined,” Thisbe explained casually. “Actually, they take an awful lot. No bones, y’know, they sort of flatten out.”

“Call Miss Amory. I’m seriously hurt. This can’t go on.”

“It can, y’know, darling. I’m going to give you an extra stroke very hard in a tender spot every time you ask about Miss Amory. Poor dear, she can’t be bothered with things like this. Now here’s the first.”

Barbara was quite sure it was hard. She had become convinced all her spots were tender. Wherever the cane struck it seemed to enter within her flesh so that she would be scored for life. Her screams and moans had no time to totally subside before the next blow elicited more. “You must . . . you must! Please get her, oh please. Help! Help!”

“You do make a fuss!” The maiden with the cane paused and surveyed her work and its result. Her air was judicial and impartial. “I suppose though I made a lot of noise myself the first time. It’s quite a long time ago and a girl forgets. I think we’re sort of peeved about the whole thing. I expect that makes it hurt more.” She struck again.

Tears and sobs were mixed in with the screams. It was now evident to the bound girl that no help would come. Thisbe would continue to wield the cane within whatever terms of reference she might possess-if any! The only hope was to play upon her sympathy. Barbara was finding her total inability to move frightening. “Well, then, please don’t cane me so hard?” she pleaded. “Surely you can do that?”

“It’s no use unless it’s hard, darling. Can’t you understand that? I mean, it wouldn’t be real otherwise.” The younger girl was sympathetic but implacable. “You do understand, don’t you?”

“No. I don’t! You’re being cruel. I wouldn’t have thought it of you.”
“You see, you’re beginning to come around. We all do.” Thisbe evidently glimpsed some reaction of which her victim was unaware. “I expect you’re strapped too tight to be able to rub your cunt on the pad?” Her voice dripped regret.

“Thisbe!”

“You said that before. You must have lived a very sheltered life. I’m going to make this one lap right across those lovely lips.”

“Nooooo . . . No! Oh . . . .” Whatever Barbara intended to say was lost in her fresh screams. She was bitterly ashamed of the screams. But she used them freely as her only means of protest − someone might hear and intervene. At least they were a partial vent for agony.

“I think I should gag you, darling? We have the loveliest gag.” Thisbe must have read her thoughts.

“No! No, no no! You mustn’t! Oh, please . . . .”

“Then how about toning down on the vocals? You’re being terribly noisy, y’know.”

“I don’t think I can. You hurt me so much I can’t help screaming.”

“Would you like to bite on something, Barb? There’s a bit of wood?”

“No thanks. I . . . I’ll try. Honest, I will try. If only you’d help a bit by not hitting me so hard.”

“Try anyway, darling. If you think I hit hard, just wait for Miss Amory to have a go at you. How about this . . . . ?”

The naked and helpless girl did her best. The scream was there as the fire burned its way deep into the flesh of her behind but she contained it into sobs and gasps that escaped control. Her loins were aflame with agony. When she could again manage words she asked brokenly: “How . . . how many must I have?”

“Never really thought about it.” Thisbe said casually. “It’s nicer for me and worse for you if there’s no number. We can sort of go on and on without having to keep count.”

“No, Thisbe, no! You just can’t! You’ll whip me unconscious.”

Thisbe giggled. “You do like to be dramatic. I suppose it’s because you’re older. None of us girls ever went unconscious. You won’t. I did try and act it once, but Miss Amory tricked me and I got caned twice as bad for my pains.”

“Tricked you?”

“She pretended her only way to test was to rest a live coal on my back. When she was halfway to the fireplace my courage gave out. I remember I screamed quite a lot that afternoon.”

“If you screamed, why can’t I?”

“Oh, alright, if it means that much! But I won’t make the strokes any lighter. I do have a duty, y’know.”

Barbara screamed. She screamed for quite a long time.

From Barbara by F.E. Campbell.

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