A Pinch of Pain

She had not yet begun to beg, though, which meant that she had not, even naked and bent over a spanking bench, with her ass blossoming like a ripe, beautiful flower, lost all dignity and composure. Kevin smiled, knowing that she would, and soon. He almost regretted stripping away the last shreds of her self-respect, because, then, the caning of her ass would be more physical than emotional; at the moment, it was both, which made her howls of anguish doubly joyful.

Still, reducing her beyond tears, to begging, was always his ultimate goal, for, when the spanking reached that point--and only when it had reached that point, and she was begging and pleading for his mercy--would he have attained his objective. Of course, her pleas did not mean that he would respond the way she hoped and put an end to her suffering, not at all. The caning would continue until the predetermined number of strokes had been delivered, no matter Gail's state of mind or the condition of her ass.

The cane flashed, landing a resounding whack across both cheeks of Gail's highly decorated ass, and she shrieked, her face a mask of unadulterated anguish. She staggered upon her high heels and would have doubtlessly toppled had it not been for the cuffs that restrained her. Her buttocks flexed, then trembled, and she gasped as the full measure of the cane's most recent lash blossomed in her badly bruised (and now -lacerated) cheeks. Grinning, Kevin smote her derriere again, even harder, the impact of the cane furrowing her battered bottom, and, as before, Gail screamed, the sound of her agony sweet in her husband's ears. A clear drop of Cowper's fluid, or pre-cum, adorned the tip of Gail's purple glans, a diamond, as it were, formed of the agony she received at her husband's cruel hands.

Without pause, he raised the cruel instrument and swung it downward, in an arc, fiercely, against her enflamed fanny, and his wife howled again, as he completed he fourth set of three strokes. Normally, he paused between each trio of blows, but, this time, having delivered twelve strokes of the cane, he continued, slashing the cane down, fast and hard, into her ravaged bottom, delighting in her screams, her squeals, and her shrieks as the red lines seeped blood and red welts rose, in lines, across her buttocks.