I found the judicial caning story from which this excerpt comes here, where it had neither a title nor an author credit. I enjoy the way our heroine immediately sexualizes her helpless posture on the caning bench:
She didn’t know what to do next. The sergeant pointed to the near side of the caning bench and one of the wardens moved around the bench to the same side. She found herself standing beside it, bewildered. “Go on! Don’t just stand there! Get up on it!” ordered the sergeant. She didn’t know how to get up. She knew, without thinking, that her bottom had to go at the higher end, but the back legs sloping outwards made it very awkward to mount it.
The warden still standing at the other side, rather more helpful, said, “Put your hands on the bench and lie down on it with your hips at the end.” She bent forward, placed her hands halfway down the padding and tried to swivel upon to it. As she did so, she suddenly felt her hips lifted by strong hands and found herself moved bodily onto the bench with the two wardens hoisting her. Then she was lying down on it, head it, head near the lower end. She felt each knee grabbed and her legs forced apart as straps were quickly fastened around her thighs.
Part of her wanted to scream in furious protest, but she was rapidly being overwhelmed by an urge simply to submit. The wardens had now moved level with her shoulders, pulling her arms down and strapping her wrists to the front supports of the bench. The face of the warden on her right was just inches from her own and she heard her whisper, “It’ll be over in about 5 minutes.”
Gabrielle realized that the warden was actually trying to be kind, but it didn’t work. What was “it”? She knew that “it” was the sergeant and her cane, but beyond that she knew only fear. The warden reached down under the bench and Gabrielle felt the wide straps flipped across the small of her back and tightened. This pulled her down against the bench, forcing the hump at the rear end of the bench hard into her belly, tilting up her hips.
She suddenly recognized an utterly unexpected and highly discomforting sense of familiarity. She had thoroughly enjoyed having sex with Peter, her steady boyfriend, who liked best to enter her from behind. When she had got used to this doggy-style sex, she always looked forward to kneeling down on her elbows, with spread her legs and her bottom tilted up towards him when he was kneeling ready and rampant behind her, for she knew that offering him such an inviting view between her thighs and buttocks drove him almost crazy with the desire to thrust hard and deep into her. This sense of familiarity in her exposed punishment position, now forcibly restrained on the caning bench, almost choked her with disgust and fear, but she neverthelss suddenly became aware of her clitoris and a wetness between her legs.
The wardens had stepped back and Gabrielle saw the one on her left nod towards the sergeant. Gabrielle couldn’t help herself staring back, to where she could see the sergeant carefully adjusting her stance. She suddenly felt a thin line of firm pressure across the center of her bottom. The sergeant’s gaze was focused on it. Then she turned briefly and her eyes met Gabrielle’s. For a moment, life seemed to stand still, and then WHAP!
Gabrielle actually saw the sergeant’s arm and the cane suddenly lift high over her shoulder and start to sweep down. In the same instant her senses fused in a shockwave of pain exploding in her bottom and surging through her body. For a few seconds the unbelievable pain seemed unbelievably to grow even worse and then slowly recede into a furious burning across her cheeks.
Gabrielle didn’t hear her own shriek and she wasn’t aware of her body’s frantic jerk against the straps. But she slowly became aware of herself gasping in horrified surprise, of the shocking pain in her bottom, and her body pressing down on the bench. With mind still swirling, she heard the warden to her left call out, “One!” And then, a few seconds later, felt pressure across her cheeks again. Her mind just clear enough to tell herself, “Omigod! Another stroke!” When WHAP! again. Her brain just registered the hiss and crack of the cane a split second before another explosion of pain jerked her body along the bench and brought another shriek to her throat. “Two!” she heard the warden call as she desperately gasped for breath a second time, and then sshhwishhTHWATT! Again, once more sending her senses whirling in agony. Her mind was spinning off into chaos as her bottom exploded in continuing bursts of unbearable fire. Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten times the warden called out, as the sergeant whipped her cane down across Gabrielle’s helpless bottom in a series of ferocious strokes.
The spinning of Gabrielle’s mind seemed to slow and she became aware once again of the warden standing silently beside her, eyes shifting between Gabrielle’s bottom and her face, as Gabrielle’s recovering brain and the ghastly pain in her bottom told her that, yes, here she really was, helpless as the beating to which she had heard the judge sentence her, had actually begun. Now she was breathing deeply, trying to regain her self-control, when she saw the warden exchange glances with the sergeant, and felt the cane pressing across her bottom again. She couldn’t do anything but wait, helpless and hopeless, for the next stroke.
THWATT! It came almost immediately, then, before she could recover, it came again, slamming her into another helpless spasm of jerks and squeals and gasps. With the rapidly building pain in her bottom, a cycle of fiery explosions and throbbing, agonizing aching, this second set of ten strokes seemed worse than the first, sending her mind spinning into confusion and leaving her screaming and twisting against the straps.
Gasping for breath, she began to recover slightly in the next interval. She was normally considered the opposite of a cry-baby and her skill and enthusiasm for several sports made her seem usually tough and disciplined. But this punishment was turning her world completely upside down. Since at least the eleventh grade she had been very proud of well-shaped prominence of her bottom, and of its rounded firmness. Other girls admired it and she liked it when boys ogled. But she had never, for a single instant, thought of her bottom as her body’s gateway to excruciating pain…