She returned to the drawing room. Marion was standing in the middle of the floor, her
lips quivering, while Arthur sat on the sofa trying to look stern and judicial. As Vivien
entered, they both eyed the wicked and much-used hickory cane in her hand, a long, dark,
knotted and slightly twisted thing with a large curved handle. Arthur licked his lips,
unable to hide his interest. Marion played her part admirably, staring at it hot-eyed,
breathing so thickly that she sounded like a panting horse. Arthur tried not to look too
eager when Vivien handed it to him, though he could not resist making a few cuts through
the air. It whistled sweetly as she knew it would, and she could see from the glint in
his eye that caning Marion was going to be a genuine pleasure for him. She turned away to
hide a smile: all three of them were playacting.
“I suppose we’d better bend her over something,” she suggested, matter of fact, feeling
she ought to steer him along.
“The back of that armchair will be ideal,” Arthur said with ill-disguised glee, pointing
to it with the cane as though he were commanding the situation now that his staff of
authority was in his hand. He cut the air again vigorously and the whistle rose in
pitch.
“I can see that you know what you’re doing, Arthur,” said Vivien disingenuously as she
led Marion heaving towards the chair. “I’m so glad I asked an experienced man to help
me.”
She bent Marion over the deeply upholstered chair back and immediately lifted her skirt,
throwing it over her back, so that a pair of white knee-length drawers confronted Arthur.
By virtue of the climate, they stuck to Marion’s bottom and her bulbous cheeks ballooned
through them like two puddings boiling in their cloths. Arthur licked his lips.
“Shall I take her drawers down for you, dear?” Vivien persisted as he hovered. “It will
be more seemly than leaving you to do it.”
He cleared his throat and tried to look grave. “As you wish, dear. Thank you.”
Vivien peeled down Marion’s drawers and pulled them right off her, leaving her bare
legged and bare bottomed. Marion parted her legs slightly to show Arthur the thatch of
thick brown hair thrusting out between the tops of her pudgy thighs, and from it her pink,
moist slit winked at him.
“You’d better grip her wrists,” he said, taking the opportunity to turn away once more to
free his tangled erection from his underpants. “She’s going to struggle fearfully.”
“Of course, dear.”
Vivien seized Marion’s wrists, forced them down onto the chair arms and leaned on them
hard. Stepping forward, she arched her thighs over the back of the victim’s neck so that
it pushed hard against her pussy, allowing her to enjoy every jolt of Marion’s body as she
received her ‘punishment’. She had done this with Jane dozens of times when she had
applied the tawse or strap vertically to her lover’s bottom. Delicious memories flooded
back and she started to become wet. She remembered how she had placed Jane face upwards
with her mouth between her legs and forced her to lick her pussy while she thrashed her
slit.
‘Up my cunt, slave! Right up my cunt!’
She became wetter as she gently stroked herself on the neck between her legs. Marion’s
entire body was heaving. All three of them would enjoy this, but she could not let Arthur
see her pleasure – not just yet.
“Now, Marion!” Arthur rasped, raising his voice above the groaning woman’s labouring
breaths. “I am going to give you twelve strokes of the cane and I’m going to lay them on
hard.” Marion’s panting redoubled as her excitement grew. “If, after you have received
them, you apologise to Miss Trefusis and faithfully promise never to steal again, we shall
stop. But if we are not convinced of your sincerity, we shall continue the punishment
until we are.”
Marion was gasping now. Vivien knew that her pink slit had opened further, as it always
did when a severe thrashing was about to start. From the look on Arthur’s face, he would
have given anything to quench his engorged manhood in it. He licked his lips and gave
Marion’s trembling bottom a few ranging taps. Vivien could feel the excitement through
her pussy, and her own increased.
“Please promise not to do it again, Marion, dear,” she pleaded, as though even now she
was willing to relent.
Arthur looked terrified at the prospect. “Now, now, Vivien! Softness has brought you to
this extremity. Let’s have no more of it. Leave this to me!”
She blenched dutifully as the male in charge reprimanded her. “Of course, Arthur. I’m
sorry,” she said in a submissive voice.
He unleashed a terrific stroke that struck Marion right across the middle of her bottom.
She grunted with surprise and her body jerked, sending delicious waved of pleasure up
Vivien’s vagina and right through her. How she wished she were bending bare-bottomed over
the chair with Jane wielding the cane in one of her most spiteful moods! How she wished
that she were the one receiving punishment at Arthur’s hands! She glanced up at him from
under lowered lids. He licked his lips and prepared for the second stroke.
Arthur tapped Marion’s bottom several more times, and then lashed her again. Her legs
jerked, lifting her clean off the chair back. She gasped with delicious pain, sending
more delightful shockwaves radiating through Vivien’s body before she wriggled her bottom
again and opened her legs further. Arthur laid a third stroke across the middle of her
plump cheeks, directly over the previous two. He was getting into his stride now and
visibly starting to enjoy himself too. His fourth stroke seemed to knock the wind right
out of Marion. She gave a throaty gargle and her plump bottom twitched several times.
Vivien knew that the lucky bitch was cumming.
After the sixth stroke, Marion’s legs wriggled like fury and her neck was scrubbing
Marion’s clit so vigorously that she too would cum soon.
“Do you think I should apply the next six lower down?” Arthur asked lamely, as though his
better self was kicking into play. “Twelve on top of each other might be excessive.”
Marion jerked, as though she was urgently telling Vivien to let him carry on, but Vivien
had to play her part even though she was sweating with pleasure under her linen dress.
“I leave these judgements to you, Arthur,” she said with all the equanimity she could
muster in her aroused state. “You’re the judicial authority here. I’m entirely in your
hands.”
He grunted and looked unsure, but then nodded. “Very well.”
The cane whistled as it scythed down again, catching Marion just above her crack. She
jolted with pain and emitted a long sigh. Five more merciless strokes followed, and
Vivien knew from Marion’s rhythmical heaving and moaning that she was enjoying climax
after climax. Vivien was cumming too, and the suppressed pleasure released tears of joy
that cascaded down her face.
“Now, now, Vivien! Don’t weaken,” Arthur cautioned her as he eyed her sternly. The
silly man had no idea of what was going on – none at all.
“Sorry Arthur,” gasped Vivien thickly, scarcely able to articulate the words. Arthur
came round to stand beside her, flexing the cane and looking judiciously down at Marion.
“Well, Marion?” he demanded. “Have you anything to say?”
Marion moaned again, and heaved her big red bottom from side to side.
“Marion?” said Vivien sharply, unable to conceal her secret pleasure for much longer.
“Come on now, dear. Tell Mr Briggs how sorry you are.” It was a clear injunction, but
Marion seemed not to hear it. Her lacerated bottom rotated more urgently and her moaning
became bestial.
“Now, now, Marion,” snapped Arthur. “I have warned you about what will happen if you do
not properly apologise to Miss Trefusis after your twelve strokes.”
“Marion?” groaned Vivien, scarcely able to remain standing as she felt a massive orgasm
coming on.
“Now, now, Vivien!” said Arthur sternly. “Well, Marion? Which is it to be? An apology
or more of the cane?”
Marion was evidently enjoying a huge orgasm and she was far beyond words. She lay across
the chair back drawing heavy breaths and wriggling her big, striped bottom cheeks.
“Dumb insolence!” hissed Arthur with judicial outrage, marching back round the chair to
address Marion’s bottom again. He had the look of a man who meant to make it dance as it
had never danced before.
He delivered the next stroke ferociously across Marion’s slit. She screamed and her
bottom leapt off the chair back.
“Will you apologise and promise not to steal again!” he roared.
The bottom leapt off the chair back again as the fourteenth heavy stroke crackled across
her delicate pudenda. On the fifteenth, she jack-knifed so hard that her cheeks almost
smacked Vivien in the face. On the sixteenth, Marion started screaming with pleasure.
Arthur stopped then. Vivien had suspected that he had his limits. There was a haunted
look in his eye as if Marion’s screams reminded him of those from Paget’s punishment
compound, of which he had spoken with such eloquent feeling. He swallowed hugely. He was
no longer enjoying himself but, typical of a man, he could not back down either. “Come
now, woman,” he blustered. “Speak up! I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”
“Please, Marion,” pleaded Vivien, whose knees buckled as a great orgasm thundered through
her. Luckily, Arthur could not tell the difference between a woman’s orgasm and strong
female emotion. The tears streamed down her face and she trembled. “Please, dear,” she
begged. “Be sensible. Think what you’re doing to me.” She looked across at Arthur
through lenses opaque with steam. “Give her a moment to calm herself, Arthur. Please.”
“Of course,” he said huskily. “Let her collect herself.” He looked hard at Marion’s
bottom, and Vivien could see the anxiety in his face. She knew what he was thinking. She
too had experienced anxiety after frenzy – in the early days. He was less experienced
than he thought he was. They were so much alike.
“Come on now, dear,” she coaxed Marion again, and the thrashed woman emitted a huge sob
and relaxed.
“Sorry!”
“Really sorry, dear?”
“Yes, miss. Very, very, sorry.”
“And are you going to be a good girl in future, dear?”
Marion sobbed again. “Yes, miss.”
“And are you going to steal again?”
“Never, miss. Never again,” groaned Marion with admirable presence of mind, given her
aroused condition, for she had never stolen a blessed thing since arriving at the
Bridewell.
Vivien released her wrists and the punished woman’s hands flew like darts to her bottom
cheeks, which she extravagantly massaged in an apparently desperate attempt to stroke away
the pain.
“Let her rest a moment,” Vivien said quietly as she tottered to a chair and collapsed
into it. Reaching across, she took Arthur’s hand and squeezed it confidingly. She
understood him so much better than he knew. His relief at this gesture of approval was
overwhelming.
“I – I feared I might have gone too far,” he whispered, laying down the cane on a table.
“But… erm… I had made the threat in good faith, so - ”
“Of course you had, dear.” She stroked his hand to reassure him “And like me you
couldn’t back down from it. I understand.” She put her tongue firmly in her cheek.
“Neither of us enjoyed it, dear, but it had to be done.”
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