From a tall Chinese jar, Mary selected a thin, whippy cane, knowing it would sting horribly and redden Pete’s buttocks, but not leave serious marks on him. She was playing the nurse after all and didn’t want her patient damaged. Haha, she smiled to herself at the silly thought. She approached him and showed him the instrument of his correction.
“You may kiss the cane, Pete. Pay homage to the source of your impending pain.”
Pete touched it with his lips and looking Mary in the eye, licked the cane too. Mary beamed at him.
“Oh, so willing to submit! Well, Pete, I shall do as you request. Six strokes. You may count them aloud, counting out the number of remaining strokes, then thank me and beg for the next one. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mistress Mary. Thank you.”
Miss Marx spoke up now to remind Pete that she was going to listen carefully for miscounting. “Errors earn additional correction, remember, Pete. First mistake is three, then six, rising by three for each subsequent failure to please during your caning. And, there will be no reprieve – you will receive every stroke that you earn!” she informed him in a strong, dominant voice.
“Yes, Miss. Thank you Miss. I understand.” Pete a little cowed by this strict attitude coming from the gorgeous teacher. I hope she takes her gown off if she’s going to cane me, he thought to himself and his cock throbbed happily remembering the image of her see-through thong.
A hush fell on the room as Mary positioned herself to strike Pete’s upturned bottom. He clenched and unclenched his buttocks in unconscious anticipation as Mary tapped his backside to prepare her aim. Then she raised the cane and with a loud whoosh it carved the air and a sharp crack announced its arrival on Pete’s skin.
“Ooooff!” he expelled his held breath as the sting passed through his ass cheeks to the pain receptors in his head. “Gaah! One, thank you mistress. Please give me another stroke.”
Silence, followed by whispering, and Pete suddenly recalled the instructions. “I’m sorry mistress. I should have counted backwards.” He admitted.
“Indeed you should, Pete, and already you have earned your first bonus of three. Well done!” Miss Marx acknowledged Pete’s folly. “Do try to do better, Pete.” She added.
He kept quiet and waited for the next stroke. Again he heard it before it struck and the sting was immense.
“Aieee! Thank you Mistress.” His mind in turmoil but he had the presence of mind to remember to count backwards. He had started with six, so this must be … “Five. Thank you Mistress. Please cane me again.”
Miss Marx was not impressed. “Are you doing this deliberately, Pete? May I remind you that six minus two is four. You have four strokes remaining from Mary, and a second bonus from me. You have now earned nine strokes of the cane from me. What fun!”
In fact, it hadn’t really been deliberate. Pete quickly worked out his error and knew he deserved to be punished for his idiocy.
A third stroke. Equally painful on his un-warmed up bottom, the sting raising his concentration and he called out correctly this time. “Three, Mistress. Thank you, please cane me again.”
Three more to go, and by the time they were done, Pete’s buttocks were beginning to glow, red from the stimulation and a pleasing after-sting warmed him up. These girls are good, he thought, they are in fact warming me up before the serious stuff begins.
Mistress Anita stepped forward and selected a different, heavier cane. Whipping it through the air and flexing it to prepare it for the task ahead.
“My turn, Pete. I awarded you two Red Stripes for letting your erection grow in my hands and failing to control yourself as I stimulated you. That will be twelve strokes, Pete, from this heavier cane. It will leave marks on your buttocks, Pete, I hope you don’t mind.”
“Thank you, Mistress Anita.” Was all Pete had to say.
“And, you will start your count backwards, as you did with Mary, but when we get half-way, you will count forwards again. Miss Marx will be listening out for mistakes so be careful. Do you have any questions?”
“No, Mistress. I understand.” Pete was preparing his mind, not only for the caning itself, but also for the complicated counting. Twelve strokes to endure with a clear mind.
The first one was somewhat harder than those applied by Mary. Pete hadn’t expected that from this smaller girl but had the presence of mind to remember to thank her and count.
“Eleven. Thank you, Mistress. Please cane me again.” She did. Again and again, each stroke a little harder as her aim improved and her arm warmed up. Pete lost concentration around the seven mark. He was mentally ahead of the game and trying to work out if he needed to call out ‘six’ twice or just once, when another hard stroke struck him.
Oh god, what was the last one? Was that seven or six? I’m sure I called out seven already so this must be six – or is it seven. Surely I have to count out ‘six’ twice, or is that ‘seven’? and that last stroke really hurt.
“Six, Mistress. Thank you. Please cane me again.”
Another silence. More whispering. A derisive snort from someone.
“It’s seven, Mistress, isn’t it? I’m sorry. I lost count.”
Miss Marx spoke up again. “Oh dear, Pete. You lost count? Think back. How many strokes has Anita given you?”
Pete cast his mind back and counted them. He was right. Six. Definitely.
“I was right, Miss. It’s six. I have taken six strokes so far.”
“Yes, Pete. It was six. You were doing so well that I was worried you would not earn any more bonus points, but now you have, for your foolish question. This one brings you an additional nine strokes, Pete. Oh, I am enjoying this!”
Annoyed more at his loss of concentration than anything else, Pete accepted his fate. He had half planned to earn extra strokes anyway, wanting to be tested more thoroughly than on his first visit. He had enjoyed several wanks in the intervening days just thinking about that, and as this all came back to mind, Pete’s cock gave an extra throb. Between them, Mary and Anita would give him eighteen, and now he had another eighteen from Miss Marx to take. Not much more than last time, although it is different people administering the punishment. The first six are almost forgotten already they were so light.
“Thank you, Mistress. That was six. Please cane me again.” He repeated to Anita who had decided to increase the strength of the remaining six strokes.
Tap, tap, tap, whoosh, cracckkk! Pete lurched in his bondage as the screaming pain erupted. “Nggghhh! Aaaaah! Fuck, that hurt!” but he remembered that he was to count forward this time and called out in a less brave voice, “Seven, thank you Mistress. Please cane me again.”
“I am appalled at your outburst, young man. I can hardly believe my ears! Did I just hear you shout the word ‘fuck’?” Miss Marx appeared to be incensed.
“Yes, miss. I apologise. It was just so sore.” Pete tried to sound contrite.
“Well, wait till it’s my turn to punish you. I’m sure you will appreciate that I have no choice but to award another penalty for that. Twelve strokes! They will be sore too!”
A general murmur from the assembled staff penetrated Pete’s buzzing ears. Miss Marx turned to her colleagues and a brief discussion was held. She nodded as they came to an agreement and stood up to stand in front of Pete.
“Look at me, slave. Your behaviour has been deplorable, and I have been very kind in simply adding three strokes for each new bonus you earn. However, my colleagues and I all agree that if you make any further errors, your next bonus caning will involve you receiving six strokes from each and all of us. That will come to thirty-six strokes of the cane for one single error. And have no doubt, we are all keen to deliver on that promise!”
Oh, god. I’ve already earned thirty strokes from the schoolmistress, on top of the eighteen I am currently taking. Forty-eight. Another thirty-six would total eighty-four. I’m not ready for that. Not today.
However, it certainly sharpened up Pete’s concentration and that helped to reduce the increasing pain in his buttocks. Anita completed her dozen strokes without further reason for extra strokes to be awarded and as she stepped back, Pete heard the familiar sound of an iPhone camera taking pictures.
“Just to let you see the result of eighteen strokes on your poor backside, Pete.” It was Ming, and she held the phone so that Pete could see for himself the state of his arse. It wasn’t nearly as bad as he had expected, although it did seem bright red and there were several stripes across it.
Thank heavens for that, Pete thought, with thirty more to come. I know I made a bit of a fuss, but I’m coping just fine so far. Damn that blue pill though – my cock is aching. I wish it would go down for a while.
“My turn now, unless you are thirsty, Pete. Would you like to take a break from the caning to have a drink?” Miss Marx spoke kindly to him.
“Yes, that would be nice. Thank you, Miss Marx. I would like a drink.”
“Excellent!” cried out Ming, who immediately stripped off her leather skirt and removed her underwear. Pete watched, fascinated to see Ming’s cock emerging from its constraints once again and growing longer and thicker, and harder, as he gazed at it.
“Then you can drink from this, Pete. Use your tongue and think of my cock like a tap; you can drink whatever comes out of it.”
Pete was losing his embarrassment at the base actions he had willingly brought upon himself. Live to enjoy the moment, and all these people witnessing my humiliation adds to the experience. Ming held her now stiff weapon in one hand and guided it into Pete’s open mouth. He rolled his tongue over the mushroom tip and began to apply suction.
Ming knew that he had no experience of deep throating and decided this was not the time to teach him. She gently pushed in and out until, after what seemed like rather a short time for her, she felt her orgasm building and wanting release. Warning Pete not to remove his mouth, she gave herself a little rub and started to spray her cum into Pete’s mouth. Jets and jets of it, and Pete hungrily swallowed as much as he could.
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