He had me exactly as he wished and I had to wonder what the court system of New York would say about a female member of their association submitting to such a strength of purpose. More importantly. I was wondering about how loud I’d scream. Or if I would scream at all!
I’m sure nature designed the place on which females sit as the place on which their master’s cane or crop should cut its wicked strokes. I had pleaded that twenty was far too many and more than I could bear, but Hugo was deaf to this feminine plea. I tried to cry but the tears would not come, something which goes to prove the female can be betrayed by her own body. As Hugo sliced at me with his cane, I knew for certain I should have stayed on Plessious.
When the cane cut at me the second time, I’m sure I made a diverting picture for my master. I tugged and squirmed and even kicked as though to rid my flesh of pain as if by simple motion. But I did not scream, and for that I was proud. The damned cane was worse than I’d expected, but it was being wielded by a male arm and impacted my soft flesh with male authority. I wondered if Naomi would hurt me half as much!
“Am I getting to you, sweetheart?” Hugo inquired pleasantly. “You’re killing me, if that’s what you mean. Oh. Hugo, please stop!”
“Give me a good reason?”
Number three sent me into a frenzied dance. I was desperate.
“You don’t have to do this at all,” I quickly spit out. “And you’re only doing this because you once promised it and now you feel you have to follow through.” I no longer cared what I said. Dancing around as the cane beat steadily, I could only plead, “Oh, Hugo, please stop, please stop! Would you settle for ten?”
“We’re nearly there now, sweetheart, and you’re in great shape. Here’s an extra hard one just to keep you interested.”
It was a truly awful stroke and lit my bottom into flaming agony.
But it did point out that I was not being caned nearly as hard as possible. In response to the extra hard one, I actually lifted my feet off the floor and kicked wildly at the agony. We had now reached number ten and I heard myself pleading earnestly, “Not twenty, Hugo, oh please not twenty! I can’t stand that.”
I got the twenty. But, in spite of the number, I knew that Hugo had been merciful. That one awful slash that had crossed my flesh told me all too well that the other nineteen had been no worse than I could bear. As I sobbed and panted in the aftermath. I drew some comfort from this thought, a comfort soon denied when I realized that what had been done to me now could be repeated every second day. Abjectly, I said, “Thank you for caning my bottom, Hugo. I’m sorry to be such a nuisance.” Gosh! How humble could I get!
In the approved manner, the master left me alone with my pain. I wasn’t sorry to see him go because I wasn’t in any mood for conversation. All I wanted was to wait for the burn and scorch of my beating to go away. In the course of my beginning to feel better, I now became aware I was still wearing the ridiculous legal gown and it was still pinned up on back to expose my burning bottom. I felt untidy along with hurt. I hung there, looking and feeling like a scarecrow, and disgusted with myself. The only comfort I could think of was that, had I stayed on Naomi’s island, I’d be in pretty much the same fix. But here with Hugo Markham I’d be a free girl tomorrow.
Hugo showed up to see how I was doing, and I was hating the gown more than the burn. I though I would get my hands back now but Hugo had been doing some thinking and didn’t reach for my bonds.
“I suppose you’ve been thinking about yesterday and tomorrow,” he said. “I’d be crazy if I didn’t realize you can easily walk out on me, and renege on our agreement. I don’t think you will, but are you tempted?”
“Of course, I’m tempted. But I’ll live up to my promise. Don’t worry, Hugo, you’ve got yourself a slave.”
Hugo held me tight and we kissed. And he did what I longed to do myself, ran exploring fingers across my weald and beaten bottom to make me gasp. “Sensitive, heh? I have to be honest, Diane, and admit I loved every stroke I gave you with that cane, It’s too bad you couldn’t see yourself, you put up a magnificent performance. ”
“Thanks a million.” After a second, I added. “Hugo, be a dear and take this gown off. It makes me feel horribly unattractive.”
He actually did as I asked to leave me standing nude and very helpless with my arms above my head. He then did his customary inventory of my interesting parts, his voice still thoughtful. “I expect you’d like me to untie your wrists and let your arms down. You must be sick of standing like that.”
“I sure would!”
“Trouble is, I don’t know what to do with you then. There’s something nice and positive about whipping your bottom but I never was into this sort of thing, and I don’t have much knowledge of small tortures. Could you give me a pointer or two?”
Hugo was not teasing, he was deadly serious about his lack of expertise in a field no university covers with a course I shifted unhappily against my ropes while exclaiming, “Hugo, don’t be silly, no girl is going to ask for pain for discomfort. Or any of those awful things you read about in history books. What I want right now is for you to hold me close and make me feel warm and wanted.”
“But I just did that.”
“I mean with my hands down, not tied up in the air the way they are.”
“Think you could hold out until lunch, sweetheart? I know an interesting little place.”
My heart leapt joyfully. It might still be a long way until lunch time but I’d willingly endure if a nice lunch in a nice restaurant was at the end of it. I wondered what the hidden kicker had to be... “You really mean you won’t make me wear handcuffs or a collar around my neck?” I asked cautiously.
“You see, you’ve come up with some excellent suggestions. But I wasn’t thinking of things like that. Watching you sit on your sore seat was about all I had in mind Would your conscious be happier if I put some sort of bondage around your body under the clothes?”
“No, thanks! Dh, Hugo, you’ve made me so happy!”
“Good gosh, with just lunch!”
“Well, it hasn’t exactly been a fun day so far and I have to feel grateful for the break. How much longer do I have to stand?”
“Just an hour or two, honey. Look, I’ll go and do some phoning while you stand here and meditate. By the way, I should tell you what a magnificent body you’ve got. And how grateful I am to get a good look at it. Be seeing you.” I felt absurdly happy. Goodness knows I was naked and tied up the way I was and shouldn’t have much to be happy about. But there it was! Hugo would have been well within his rights to make me uncomfortable right on through the day but he wasn’t doing this, and from this fact I drew fresh hope. In spite of a burning bottom and the shame of my condition, I kept my thoughts busy with the Estate, Hugo’s claim, and a few other related mundane affairs. I even stopped trying to free my hands.
When I was dressed and ready to go, Hugo insisted on the bracelet for my left wrist. I held out my hand and watched the two steel cuffs made snug upon my skin. I had become almost fond of the shinning steel, which reminded me of Elizabeth and which had been my companion for so long.
Hugo had allowed me to back up to the big mirror to admire my wounds. What I beheld in the glass made me nervous at the prospect of sitting down, but I knew this was to be Hugo’s reward for lunch and whatever period of rest he might be willing to grant from my day of slavery. I refused to allow the scarlet and purple lines to dampen the lovely, warm feeling of being taken to lunch by a handsome male.
Hugo watched intently as the waiter pushed my chair against the back of my knees. I clenched my teeth as I sat and hoped only Hugo saw the pain on my face. It was my first sit down since being caned and cropped, and for several moments I was breathless and wondering if it got better or worse than that. My scolded rump was a presence not easy to ignore.