Story from Janus 27.
In Good Hands...
by Anthony Grantham
'EVERYTHING OFF!' he ordered.
She stood still and for a moment he thought she was going to defy him. Her green eyes flashed with fire showing the anger within her. Indeed it was for one of her displays of uncontrolled anger that he was now going to punish her.
'Not everything, surely?' she protested.
'Everything off!' he repeated sternly.
'But Daddy!' she began.
'Liz,' sighed her father as she began to unfasten the buttons of her white top. 'When did I last give you a caning when I let you keep on a single stitch of your clothing?'
Liz stopped at the last button. Already a considerable amount of her generous cleavage was visible. She took a deep breath knowing that she had to give the obvious answer to the question put to her.
'You haven't,' she said with closed eyes.
'Then why argue?' said her father diffidently. 'Unless of course you fancy getting an extra dose.'
He whooshed the slender 36-inch crook-ended cane through the air to emphasize his point. At that sound she could not help but quail, despite herself.
'Perhaps you think ten strokes isn't enough?' he put to her.
'It's more than enough!' snorted Liz. Again the green eyes flashed to show temper and fury that simmered just below the pretty blonde's low boiling point. It was temper and fury that had been well controlled over the years by generous applications of her father's slender stick. Without that instrument of correction, her father dreaded to think what would have become of Liz.
'You have only yourself to blame, young lady,' he reminded her. 'All your punishments have been well deserved!
Resigned to her fate, Liz removed her top and started on her jeans. Her breasts bobbed about delicately within her white, lace-trimmed bra.
The unzipped fly-front parted in a 'vee' to show the elasticated top of white mini-briefs, so skimpy that they did not even conceal all of her tight, golden pubic curls.
She let go of the top and the blue jeans slid down her long, graceful and lightly downed limbs. Balancing herself, first of all on one bare foot and then on the other, she tugged away the fallen jeans. She took care to fold her discarded clothes which she then placed neatly over the chair alongside her – the chair over which she would shortly have to bend to receive her very painful punishment.
Her father noted her tidiness with a great deal of satisfaction. The habit of being tidy had, in fact, been beaten into her over the years – as it had also had to be thrashed into his two younger daughters.
Blonde and beautiful – younger versions of Liz, they both sat demurely on the settee watching their older sister preparing herself for her punishment. Sitting between them was a good-looking young man who seemed to be a bit embarrassed by the proceedings. But his presence made the event much worse than normal for the girl who was to receive the cane.
Liz put her hands behind her back and her breasts were automatically thrust out as she started to unhitch her bra. Then she stopped.
'This is outrageous!' she complained.
'Your behaviour was outrageous, too!' he reprimanded her.
'I'm nineteen, remember!' she pouted, with an imperious flick of her golden mane.
'It's about time you remembered your age!' her father replied instantly.
'Young ladies of nineteen should not behave in the manner in which you have behaved!'
'This is highly embarrassing!' There was a hint of appeal in her voice, a crack of weakness starting to appear.
Her appeal was also directed to the audience. Her sisters squirmed uncomfortably in their seats, well aware that Liz was on the point of having more strokes added to her already stiff sentence.
Liz held up her left hand and the overhead light caused the diamonds in her ring to flash and dance.
'I'm engaged to be married!' she snapped, folding her arms across her breasts.
Her father took a deep breath, clearly trying to control his rising temper. He sprung the cane between hands. 'You are still my responsibility!' he reminded her sternly. 'If it is necessary, I shall even cane you on the very eve of your wedding!'
Liz looked straight at the man sitting with her sisters, expecting him to raise an objection. After all, he was the man she was going to marry. His only action was to avert her stare.
Liz lowered her head, reached behind her and suddenly her unfettered breasts were shuddering under their own weight with her body movements.
With a flick of her fingers in the waistband of her briefs, the tiny scrap of material fluttered down to the carpet.
Liz stood arrogantly, her breasts pointing at her father. She made no attempt to conceal the triangular tangle of golden curls at the junction of her thighs.
'Satisfied?' She almost spat the question.
'No. I'm not satisfied, Liz,' he replied coolly. 'I'm not at all satisfied with your behaviour. I propose therefore to increase your punishment from ten strokes to twelve!'
He paused and indicated the only other male in the room. 'I'm glad I invited Rodney to witness your chastisement. Now he knows what he's letting himself in for!'
It seemed as if the breathing of those present in the cosy suburban lounge had suddenly stopped. The only sound was the muted ticking of the clock on the wall above the fireplace.
Liz closed her eyes and compressed her lips into a thin line. She was close to tears.
'Put your shoes on please, Liz.' Her father's softly spoken command broke the silence.
With all sign of rebellion now gone, Liz sat on the chair. Keeping her knees pressed tight together, she pushed her feet into her shoes and bent forward to fasten the tiny buckles. Her features vanished in a waterfall of curling, golden hair.
She stood up, her high-heeled shoes showing off the superb curves of her elegant legs. Those extra few inches would also poke her bottom further up into the air when she was bent over the chair. Her face registered the fact that, her veneer broken, she was now stricken with nervous embarrassment, fear and shame. Her cheeks had crimsoned.
The soon-to-be-married blonde teenager fumed her back on her father and lowered her body by placing her hands on the soft seat of the chair.
Not satisfied with her position, her father pushed Liz forward by pressing his hands on her bumcheeks until her head was in the angle of the seat and the chair back. His fingers went under her hips to raise her haunches.
He took the cane in his right hand and positioned himself to the left side of his erring daughter. Those on the settee would have a clear view of the cane rising and falling and of the devastation it would cause to the lovely firm buttocks in its path. They saw Liz clench her bum until the cleft was just a thin line. Her knees were locked tight together. How dreadful she must feel now, waiting for the cane.
Liz inhaled urgently as the thin wand of wood bit into her flesh. She did not yell out however.
Her body shook and her breasts shuddered as she gasped with the pain caused by the second stroke.
Two red stripes, one inch apart from each other, now disfigured her peach of an arse. The blows had been heavy, but no heavier than was usual.
Her father again raised his cane into the air. Although Liz had caused him countless problems over the years he loved her dearly; and she knew how to take a beating! He admired her for that!
The rod whistled down once more to land with a resounding whish-thwack!
'Ooohh!' moaned Liz. She waggled her bottom from side to side in an effort to cope with the fiery sting which was now added to the throb left by the first couple of strokes. The pain was beginning to build up, but she had a lot more suffering ahead of her before the cane would finally be laid to rest at the end of the session.
'Aagh!' croaked Liz as the next cut buckled her knees. However, she managed to keep her legs pressed together. Her head twisted from side to side. Liz was fighting to keep back the tears but all concerned – victim, chastiser and rapt audience – knew it was a fight she could not win!
Liz had so far suffered only one third of her punishment. Previously, the highest number of strokes she had taken was eight. Her father wondered just how his daughter would cope with the extra strokes. Liz was thinking the same thoughts, too!
Then the acute pain from the next stroke completely obliterated her thoughts.
'Ow... ow... ow... wow!' she cried out, raising herself up to her full height. Her hands clenched as she fought to keep them away from her backside. Those watching could not see, but the tears had now started to flow.
Her loss of control was only momentary. Gamely, she bent down again and offered her bottom for further chastisement. Gone completely were all traces of the fiery temper that had got her into trouble in the first place. Yet there was a blazing fiery sting across her welted bottom.
Her father cleared his throat before addressing her. 'You know what's next don't you, Liz?' he asked her, tapping the cane against his foot as he spoke.
Liz raised herself up to arm's length. She turned her head to look at him and flicked away stray curls from the front of her eyes. 'It's a five-barred gate, isn't it?' she asked tearfully.
'Yes Liz,' he confirmed. 'It is.'
'Oooh!' she groaned.
'I'll let you stand up and rub your bottom after you've had it,' he offered.
Liz managed a smile through her tears. 'You must be getting soft in your old age, Daddy!' she told him.
Her father smiled too. Liz was being funny, not cheeky. It must have taken some courage, seeing the discomfort she was experiencing.
He sighed deeply as his eldest daughter resumed her position and prepared herself for a 'five-barred gate' – a weal which would cut diagonally across the five horizontal bars already disfiguring her bottom. Added to the sharp sting of the sixth stroke would be a re-awakening of hurt from the five earlier ones.
Her father bit his lip as Liz moved her bum-cheeks ever so slightly in anticipation of the awful torment. Liz had always received a 'five-barred gate' from the very first time she had received a caning. If he backed off now it would be a sign of weakness. Liz herself would not admire him for that. Furthermore, the other two girls would expect a softening of attitude when their turns came round again.
The cane landed diagonally but before the fresh red imprint could appear, Liz had shot upright and was clutching her scorched buttocks in a shock of pain. She continued to wail and she cried unashamedly.
Her father decided to stop, but Liz was not being spared the remainder of her ordeal. Far from it. As far as the lovely blonde was concerned, far worse was in store for her.
Sensing what was about to happen, Liz turned round quickly. She made no attempt to conceal her blonde triangle – her hands were needed to provide some comfort to her bum.
'No Daddy! Please no!' she croaked. 'You can't!' She blinked away her tears and appealed with big, watery, green eyes.
'I can Liz,' he told her, the determination evident in his voice. 'And what's more, I'm going to!' Here he paused before continuing, 'It depends of course if Rodney wants to.'
He held out the cane to the dark-haired young man in the smart casual clothes sitting between Liz's two younger sisters on the settee.
'Yes Mr Kennedy, I do,' said Rodney grabbing hold of the cane. Mr Kennedy detected a trace of eagerness in his voice.
'No Rodney! Please don't!' wailed Liz as her fiancé stood up and took off his denim jacket.
'Bend down again please, Liz' was his only response to her request.
Mr Kennedy detected signs of rebellion again as Liz squared her shoulders. Rodney held up the cane. Her shoulders slumped and she again bent over the chair, her bottom sporting a pretty picture of a five-barred gate. Tears of mortification poured down her cheeks.
Mr Kennedy was delighted that Rodney was taking up where he had to leave off. Liz needed to be tanned regularly. He sat back on the settee to watch the remainder of the punishment.
When the first stroke bit into the rich moons of her backside, he knew that Liz was in good hands.
Of course he would miss taking a cane to her bottom; but he had two other daughters who would not be ready for marriage for some years yet!