“Oh? Do you think? It is also not doing things you should do-but that is a mystery saying, as my Mama used to call it, and you will learn the meaning of it soon enough. Suppose after dinner tonight when we are all in the drawing room, I told you to raise your dress and push your knickers down. Would it be naughty to refuse?”
“In front of all? Oh no, I couldn’t!”
“Be not disturbed, I shall not ask you to. There may be occasions-other occasions-where I shall, however, and if you do not then I shall cane you.”
“Oh!” I stepped back. I truly believed her. “You would not,” I gasped.
Instead of replying, she ran the cane lovingly across her palm. “It stings beautifully. You should have seen Sarah’s hips waggle!”
“But what did she do?”
“Does it matter? Perhaps it was something she would not do. Will you not trust me to behave in your best interests always?”
“Yes.”
I could reply in no other way. Most curiously or not, after what had occurred I trusted her completely. I knew no strain of cruelty in her and so was more intrigued than fearful at her words.
“Let me lay it a little across your own adorable bottom. Shall I?”
Was it in truth a request or a command? I stood rigid and in that moment squeezed my nether cheeks together.
“Please don’t,” I stammered.
“You are refusing? What a naughty girl you are!” But her tone was only that of a tease, then she beckoned me and I softened and moved back to her. “I would adore to cane you, Clara-to make your bottom hot and ready,” she murmured. Quite as one mesmerized, I stood still though my legs trembled as with slow but certain hand she raised my dress inch by inch until first the back of my thighs and then my knickered bottom were revealed.
“Stand still,” she said severely. I blinked and did so. Then, holding up my dress higher, she laid the cane at a right angle across my chubby cheeks and there held it as if to give me the feel of it. I did not move nor could have done without her command and knew it. “The cane may be cruel or it may not. It may act as a punishment or a spur. I use it only as a spur, Clara, and never cruelly. You trust me in that, do you not?”
I nodded. Though wary at that moment, I did trust her. She tapped the cane lightly across my pert moon, causing me to utter a sharp “OOOOH!” though I felt little from it.
“Now again,” she murmured, “bend forward, keep your dress up and your bottom well stuck out.”
“B… b… but…,” I stammered. This briefest of rebellions was however quelled by a single look from her… As she stepped to one side of me, I obeyed a little miserably, feeling that I had somehow been trapped. Withal, however, I also entertained a certain sense of daring and excitement that I could not explain. Keeping my legs straight, I reared my bottom and waited.
“I adore your obedience, Clara. Remain obedient still.”
I knew then that she meant to cane me. My dress slipped but was soon drawn up again. In a businesslike manner she then turned me about so that I found my hands placed on the side of the bed. I wanted desperately to speak, to plead with her, but could find no manner of words to utter.
“Now your drawers down again,” I heard, and as recently as they had been donned so now as easily did they cascade, gliding down to my ankles and there subsiding in a forlorn pool. Her hands touched my bare bottom and I wilted. This gesture of defensiveness was ignored.
“You will learn the correct posture, my pet. Make a hollow of your back so that the moon of your bottom is made the more prominent thereby. Do not arch your back in the reverse direction for it looks absurd and is indeed naive.”
Her words were smooth enough but firm. Obeying hesitantly, I presented myself in the best fashion.
“Have no fear. I do not mean to scorch you,” came her voice. I heard then a hiss as of the cane slicing through the air.
“THOOO!” I squealed, for light as the stroke was, and full across my young orb, it stung me and I reared.
“Still now, Clara!” she barked.
I gave a little wailing sob and waited. Then my next and longer wailing cry was uttered as this time I received another scorcher, though in truth I know it to have been but a skimming motion of the cane at which she was so adept.
“NA-NAH-NAH!” I heard myself sob and worked my hips madly, endeavouring as one does to shake off the tongues of fire that were leaping through me. Even in the midst of my cry, however, a third bit into me, and this time truly did for I leapt and clutched at my bottom, not caring about my posture nor indeed about obedience. I was not however admonished for this nor did she attempt to still me but instead cast down the cane and drew me about so that I sagged against her and sobbed my protests to the world.
“Dear little one, it is but your first taster. Did I deal with you so harshly, my sweet little dear?”
I blubbered only because the thought of it had proven perhaps worse than the deed. Her hand stroked my hair, my face was pressed into her perfumed bosom. Her words ran over me like softly drifting leaves as, instead of chiding me, she praised me for my fortitude. This causing me to sob louder, I was kissed on my moist and wobbling mouth and once more found myself clinging to her.
“Are you not grateful that I did not really sting you? It does not hurt? Does it really hurt-really, really?”
I cried on for effect a little and she knew it, stroked my hair continually and kissed my nose and brow.
“You come up well, darling-you lift it well. We call it presenting, you know, and I shall teach you a little more about that later. There now, let me soothe your nice hot bottom. A little hot, is it not, but you cannot say that I truly hurt you, can you?”
I shook my head, face hidden. It had stung me awfully, yet I could not describe it as a pain.
“Now, darling, the final salute. Your tongue, quickly,” she breathed. My face was lifted. I surrendered anew, but therewith her forefinger found the tight, warm cleft of my bottom and rotated its tip around my puckered hole. Feeling the strange sensation of that touch I pressed myself into her involuntarily, which was what she desired for her finger followed and gently rubbed me there again all around the rubbery rim of my secrecy. Thus our bellies and legs were tight together and I could not escape, intoxicated anew by the sweet lashing of her tongue. Curiously enough I felt then with her progressive caressing a slight moisture in my bottomhole and my knees sagged. Then, withdrawing her mouth from mine but keeping the tip of her finger ever pressed demandingly there, she smiled down at me.
“Oh yes, truly you are my favourite,” she whispered, and you have now had your first trials.”
CHAPTER TWO
I was learning a new vocabulary: first “training,” then “presenting,” and now “trials,” but at the time could scarcely have given much thought to them. My entire concern in this moment was that my bottom still stung and tingled and that I had actually been caned, as I thought, for nothing. Indeed, after a few more moments I ventured to say so. My stepmother regarded me gravely.
“Yes, it must seem so to you, Clara, but all has its purpose. You did far better than Sarah, I am pleased to say.”
“Perhaps you caned her harder,” I murmured. I still felt resentful, yet an intense excitement burned in me at what had gone before and the instinctive knowledge that I had not been dealt with vindictively. To the contrary, I felt that her true love for me was now emerging.
“No, I did not,” she laughed, “though in fact I did give her six to your three, but it was not in any event as with you and I.”
I had no need to ask what she meant. Sitting gingerly on the bed, I wriggled my bottom, constantly tightening and relaxing my burning cheeks. Those who read this may wonder at my sudden advancement at my age. Girls of tender years can indeed be led, but they also have a greater instinct than males of similar age. I was being led, but not misled and little by little my confidence in asking questions increased.
“Why did you cane Sarah?” I asked. Without replying immediately she drew upon the bellpull which
