F Campbell - Margo

"Isn't she a darling?" Penny giggled appreciatively. "She comes up with the cutest things. I can't wait to hear what she has to say when I cane her bottom."

Margo was feeling surplus to the occasion. Boa was completely helpless, and Penny was well on top of the situation. The youngster had already checked the bindings on her captive's wrists, since she would take no chances. But when the mistress suggested, "I'll leave you two together," and then turned to leave, Bea's reaction was instant.

"Margo, please don't go. Don't leave me wit this young twerp. I'm scared of what she'll do to me."

"You see!" Penny was delighted. "She knows I'm going to cane her ass, and she wants you here to make sure I don't do it too hard." She turned to her captive and admonished, "You're so silly. With Margo watching, I'd have to cane you much harder, because she's a mistress and will expect only the best."

The captive with the bound hands sniffed in disdain. She could think of nothing devastating enough to say. She was becoming increasingly aware of a helplessness and impending doom. Her glance at Margo was imploring to the point where Margo decided to stay and watch. Penny's insouciance would carry the thing off in a manner of obviate embarrassment. She smiled and shrugged at the unhappy victim and grinned at the waiting girl.

"Go ahead, Penny. She's all yours."

Margo reproved herself silently for a certain feeling of tremendous zest. Bea was probably 26, compared to Penny's 16. The decade wide gap was bitterly humiliating to the older of the two. It was widened by Bea's former authority and her close association with the master of Rossland, whereas Penny was nothing but a nymphet consigned to the Academy by outraged parents. Now the woman was to be punished by the girl! Margo could understand and sympathize, but that was all. Feeling like a bitch, she got herself a chair and made herself comfortable. The nymphet with the cane was in charge from the beginning. She led her dubious prisoner to the whipping bench and sweetly invited her to drape her person upon it. Bea's retort was predictable, and so was her youthful wardress's response.

The cane flashed, Bea yelped, and even as the scarlet line proclaimed itself on virgin skin endeavored to turn and flee, only to be dragged back by the implacable leash in the young strong hand. As though imparting amazing information, Bea exclaimed, "That hurt! It hurt something awful. Don't you ever do that again."

There was an engaging quality of innocence about the young woman who had just received her first cut from the cane. Corporal punishment had been entirely absent from her life, her thoughts, her conceptions. For several moments, she stood glaring at her companions, then abruptly demanded, "What is it you want me to do? Show me again."

To strap and buckled down the feminine curves was a task Penny Pendleton undertook with relish. Watching her, Margo realized the excitement in the girl. She realized too the female perplexity of the owner of the female curves. Miss Bea Maxwell was entering a world which she had only previously guessed but never quite believed.

Penny's choice of a method by which to restrain the former secretary while the caning of her bottom took place was shrewd. She could hardly have picked any implement or posture more shaming. The bench was on two levels. The victim knelt on the lower one and then bent forward to drape her body across the larger surface above. An arm went down each side, and her hands were securely strapped. Another strap circled the waist and was cinched quite cruelly tight. The resultant effect was to protrude and raise the twin curves to be caned into a delightful prominence. There were straps also for knee hollows and ankles. But the most shaming facet of the whole design was the half circle into which Bea's neck frantically fell as she was pushed into position. No sooner was it neatly in place titan the top half of a stock was pushed over on its hinge to totally encircle the lovely neck in a yoke of wood. The effect of this was not only to immobilize but to rob the unfortunate girl of any vision of what was taking place at her rear. Her view was restricted to the floor below to brief, sharp glances to either side, revealing little.

For all her youth, Penny was an artist in control and an expert at punishing young ladies. Having been punished herself in every imaginable severity and posture, she was enriched by painful memories she could now put to good use. Bea was in the hands of a past mistress in the skill of caning feminine bottoms. Penny circled her victim, tightening a strap here and another there, until the flesh bulged around each leather strap. She now gently pumped the lever which thrust again Bea's pubic patch to further raise and stretch the already taut spheres on which were emblazoned a perfect scarlet weal.

"Stop it! You're breaking my back!" Bea strove desperately to look back at what might be happening to a portion of herself over which she had lost control. Her cinched waist was taking the stress of the upward thrust within her loins. Her figure was becoming exquisitely arched and curved in an exaggeration of every feminine feature. Margo herself watched. Bea's derriere was thrust and molded into a prominence beyond anything in preparation for punishment. A bottom thus curved and bent would absorb the cane with twice the agony of the conventional "bend over and touch your toes." Penny had achieved genius in her delineation of a delinquent derriere.

The teenager was in rapture. Her victim was not. Penny once more circled the strapped-down nudity and intently patted portions thereof. It was inevitable that she come to the close clasped thighs between which a black tendril coyly proclaimed itself, along with a pair of plump lips, which could scarcely fail to share in the impacts of the cane. Coyly, Penny reached down and gripped a single hair between a thumb and finger, and slowly pulled.

"Stop it! You're not supposed to do that! Margo, stop the little bitch. What she's doing is too much!"

"She's simply plucking a hair, Bea. That's all. You can spare one little hair, can't you? You've got a really luxurious bush."

"Don't be horrid! Audi hope you realize I'm breaking in two. I can't see, and I'm sure I look disgusting. Margo, please make her undo these straps."

Margo sighed. Being a mistress, was not all that much fun. Patiently, she explained, "Darling, you're in Penny's care now, and Penny won't pay any attention to any of these things you're saying. I think you're in one of those situations where a girl simply just has to grin and bear it."

The exuberant nymph did not deny herself the pleasure of the preparatory motions and sounds. She swished the cane to make it sing its unkind song with a high, whining note of promise. She rapped the waiting bottom experimentally, as though to gauge the distance. Watching the act, Margo could not help but think of ripened melons which split open under the rapping of knuckles.

Her neck firmly secured by the yoke, Bea was striving fruitlessly to turn and see the offer the sensations now felt. Her hands tugged as fruitlessly at the straps as they had previously twisted at the ropes. She felt much abused and was desperately afraid.

The blow was swift and sure, and the sound of the cane on female flesh was as potent as ever. Margo winced in sympathy. The strapped down limbs and torso did not move. But the yoked head twisted frantically from side to side while Bea screamed and screamed while every emotion strove for ascendancy. In the gasping aftermath of the first stroke, the second stroke impacted its own exquisite mark on virgin skin. Bea scream was cut off halfway through by her own determined control to say something she was convinced needed saying.

"I can't bear it! It's too awful! You absolutely must stop! Don't hit me again! Don't you dare!"