Tell Me What You Want Ch. 02 - Sex Stories

Tell Me What You Want Ch. 02

... was no point fighting it. Every word would add another stroke. It was better to just get through it.

"Every transgression it makes is punished. It's a mercy, in a way, because it's never left doubting. Same failure, same punishment, until it stops failing."

He heard a little grunt and braced. The cane swished through the air and cracked against his soft skin, sending the pain through him. Hector hissed, grinding his teeth together, determined not to give his wife the satisfaction of hearing him cry out, or the insane possibility of receiving extra strokes for verbalising.

"Just a warm-up, that one. One."

From the way she said it, Hector realised that his wife was directing the comment to Bea, as if making an excuse for not delivering a full-throated roar of anguish from her husband for her friend's enjoyment.

Hector concentrated on the pain, letting it ebb. The only warning he had of the next strike was the swish of the cane through the air. Lotte hit higher this time, striping the tops of his buttocks where the flesh was less padded, jarring the base of his spine. Again, he ground his teeth together, adamant not to make a sound.

"Two. See, you have to vary the impact. That's the secret. If you hit the same part over and over, you'll just split the skin."

Hector could hardly believe it. His wife was giving a demonstration of how to cane her husband.

The cane swished again, striking over the top of the first blow, much harder. Hector gasped, but managed ...

... to supress the cry, delighting himself that he was denying his wife what she wanted. Lotte wanted Bea to hear him, to prove her skill.

"Three. Close to the first one, but not quite. The skill is in the aim."

Hector wanted to dispute that, to let her know that she'd messed up and hit him in exactly the same spot. That she was justifying herself to her friend meant that Lotte knew she'd messed up, but she appeared to be undeterred.

The swishing sound was longer this time, the stroke more powerful that the others, hitting towards the bottom of his buttocks, sending a shockwave through his flesh into his balls, searing across his skin. Hector cried out this time, unable to stop himself, his body overruling his control as it fought to absorb the damage.

"There, see, now we're getting somewhere. Four," Lotte remarked triumphantly.

As if encouraged by his response, the fifth stroke came in quicker, before Hector's body had time to process the pain, building on top of it, making him cry out again. His wife counted the strokes steadily, no longer running a narrative for the benefit of her audience. Hector kept his head down, the only mercy being that from this position, they couldn't see his face.

Somewhere around twelve, Hector lost track. Lotte had given him twelve strokes before, bent over the same benchtop, but that had been different. Her hand had stroked his tortured rear between strokes, her fingers manipulating his erection, pumping him, keeping him hard. It ...