Caning Stories Novels & Stories

It added to the trill for them, and added to our humility. To say I was shocked was an understatement. I barely heard what Cain said during his speech. I was too busy trying to figure out a way out of it. Unfortunately, I couldn't find a way. I knew there was no way out of it. I wasn't the first, but I was taken twice. I was first fucked by a master trainer and then by a master guard. I was lucky; others were taken three or four times.

Mikhail approached her with a stern expression. "You brought this upon yourself," Mikhail said coldly. "Five hundred strokes of the cane, and no food for seven days." Her eyes widened with fear as the executioner stepped forward, cane in hand. The first strike landed with a sickening thud, tearing through her thin garment and drawing a sharp cry from her lips. Each subsequent stroke was a symphony of pain, the cane slicing through the air and biting into her flesh with merciless precision.

Caning was a rare and humiliating penalty, usually reserved for the most serious offenses. “Ten strokes each,” Paul continued, his tone unyielding. “And it will be done publicly, as an example to others.” Jolie collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably, and I knelt beside her, trying to offer comfort. “Jolie, please... we have to be strong,” I whispered, though the words felt hollow. Cara, her smug grin plastered across her face, couldn’t resist taunting us. “They should be grateful it’s only ten strokes. I would have demanded more.”

"Over the years, I have gotten to know the subs, and in turn, they have gotten to know me. I have a couple of favourites who enjoy the kind of pain I dish out, but there is no exclusivity or anything, and I certainly don't have any relationship with them outside the scene." "Oh," I say softly. I can see from the openness in Alex's expression that he is telling me the truth. "I didn't like it!" I blurt out suddenly. "The caning. It was too much and I know that I could never do it again." I feel a shudder run through my body at the memories flooding through me. "I did it because I wanted to help you, but I know that I am not strong enough to do it again." I realise that I am babbling and take

A rattan cane? Gage turned the ambassador away from the flogging, his eyes still glued to the screen. Chantal tried to fight, and the cane whipped at her hands and her head. When she curled into a shuddering ball, Gage swore his revenge at the screen. The lashings didn’t slow as she begged for mercy. The bastard grabbed her by the neck, and the camera zoomed in on her terror. Blood coated her face as the voice-modulated asshole spoke. “Say cheese. Day one, Madam Ambassador. Tomorrow gets a whole lot worse.”

Not them. Lady calantha stepped forward, nodding once. And then the punishment began. The cane came down across my back, the first strike searing like fire through my thin dress. I gasped. The second strike made my knees buckle. By the fifth, I couldn’t breathe. By the tenth, I was tasting blood. I didn’t cry out. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Twenty lashes. Each one echoing through my bones, branding my skin, reminding me how low I had fallen.

I cried as the long thick cane collide with my wet back. It was painful and I could swear I felt my back twirk and the bone that broke earlier hurt more. But another cane landed on my back before the first one could fully subside. And then another, and another, and another until I lost count of the number of canes that came in contact with my back. I cried in pain as I gnashed my teeth My cloths were torn and shredded in pieces and my whole body smelled of blood. "miss, are you ready to admit that you're the one my master is looking for now? As much as I love tormenting people I don't like beating up weak women..

Then came the caning. She struck my ass and thighs with dozens of precise, vicious strokes until my pale skin was covered in deep purple welts. My fat ass jiggled and rippled with every impact. She moved to my breasts next, caning them from below and the sides until they were bright red and throbbing. Every time I cried out she pulled my septum ring harder and told me to thank her. I thanked her through the gag like the broken whore I was.

" All right , dear . Granted. " I once read an article about a tribe that punish people by ignoring them. They'd look through you , pretending you did not exit . It normally would take long . They consider that alone is more painful than anyother punishment. Imagine no one talking to you . Passing through a hall of people and it seems you are invisible . That treatment alone would kill you. I mean , you would actually die .