Assessment by Archana

I haven't learned anything because you've been too lenient with me, far too lenient.

"It will be an absolute pleasure to rectify this situation, Tarekh," she said, rising from her seat with a sadistic smile on her face.

"I'm sorry, Miss Archana," he said, cowering in his seat, shaking with dread. "I don't know what came over me. It was a mad thing to write. I didn't mean it."

Ignoring him, Miss Archana walked to her umbrella stand, where she selected the longest of the canes. It was over a metre long and made of a darker, thicker rattan than the others.

"I shall be using this, Tarekh," she said, flexing the evil looking cane as he looked on in horror. "It has far more weight the lenient cane I have just used on you, so it will bite in far deeper."

She walked to the door, cane in hand.

"Follow me please," she said.

Quaking with fear, Tarekh had to comply. He rose unsteadily to his feet, then followed her in dread. He knew he was about to endure agony beyond his worst nightmare, but it was what he craved.

She led him to another room off the hall. As she opened the door he saw it was empty apart from just one piece of furniture, and ominous heavy dark wooden structure, with leather upper surfaces and fitted with numerous leather straps with buckles. It was a whipping bench, and it stood in the centre of the large, bare room, on bare floor boards.

"This is a larger room, Tarekh. More room to swing a cane. You will find no lenienTarekh here."

Tarekh felt his legs might give way as she grasped him firmly by the arm to lead him to the whipping bench. He allowed her to guide him over it. Even as she began to buckle up the restraining straps around his thighs, he knew he could still escape, but her intoxicating power over him prevented any attempt. Within seconds, she had buckled leather straps around his wrists and over his back. Now it was too late. He was totally helpless and entirely at her merTarekh. The upper surface of the bench was concave and sloped down towards his head, raising his gaping bare bottom high. The leather straps around his thighs kept them well apart. The strap at the small of his back kept his back hollowed, exposing his uplifted bare bottom in the most humiliating manner. Whoever had designed this sinister structure had done so with just one objective - to render its 'guest' in the most exposed and helpless position for a serious thrashing of his or her bottom.

"You will never believe what I thought when I rose from my bed this morning, Tarekh," she said, as she took her position to his left, then placed the heavy cane acTarekh the centre of his bottom. "I thought 'I'm really in the mood to administer a very severe judicial caning'. I had no idea that you might behave so badly as to deserve one."

Tarekh, absolutely terrified, opened his mouth to plead, then changed his mind. He needed the caning. She wanted to cane him severely and he craved to please her.

"You will receive twenty-four strokes," she said, as she adjusted her footing, with her eyes locked on his gaping, wealed and perfectly presented bare bottom. "Do you have anything to say before your caning begins?"

In a voice he didn't recognise as his own, he replied, "Very hard, please, Miss."

"Good boy," she purred, tapping the cane at his bare cheeks.

A few seconds later her face turned into a grimace as she raised the cane.

The shrieking of agony began less than a second after the first, devastating stroke. A symphony of screams that rose in pitch and volume filled the room as the twenty-four strokes of the dragon cane lay a lattice of purple weals at his bottom and took Tarekh to a world of agony that made his earlier caning seem mild.

They were both wetand tired when the caning had been completed. Miss Archana, face flushed with excitement and fatigue, wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. She still held the cane. Tarekh, glistening with sweat, his shrieking now faded to a gentle groan, was still in another place.

Miss Archana reached down to gently stroke Tarekh's butt cheek with her right hand.

"Another six, to please your teacher, Tarekh?" she whispered in his ear.

"Only if you promise to make them harder," he said in the voice he didn't recognise.

"I promise, Tarekh," she whispered dreamily, still stroking his face.

She continued to gently stroke his face for a few more moments, before rising to her feet.

"Better make it another dozen," she said quietly, as she took her position.

The End