Three Hot Days

Time seemed to stand still. Positioned as I was, I could not see behind me. My only view was of the wooden floor and my pinioned outstretched arms. I was aware that two red-blooded young ladies were studying my bum cheeks, and almost certainly anticipating the damage about to be done to them. I imagined that I could feel their gaze upon me.

***

I heard a movement behind me and then heard a high-pitched whooping sound, and then another as Matron loosened up.

"First six, she said. Remember what I told you."

I felt her place the cane against the centre of my buttocks and gently tap them once, twice, three times, before the cane lifted away and I heard a soft whoop as she drew the cane back and then a louder whooping sound as it descended.

I had resolved to take my punishment in silence and not afford Moira the satisfaction that I was suffering, or shame myself in front of Claire. That resolve evaporated after the first stroke. When the cane struck I heard and felt the impact, and was surprised to feel no pain, until a fraction of a second later the pain arrived. It was an awful searing band of pain that built rapidly in intensity and then very slowly seemed to ebb away. If someone had told me that a red hot poker had been placed across my bum-flesh, at that moment, I might have believed them.

The pain took me by surprise.

"Oh Fuck!"

I waited for the second stroke, but nothing happened. Then, after what seemed an eternity, but was probably twenty seconds, I heard Matron's soft voice. She was almost apologetic.

"Malcolm, you didn't count, and you swore. I warned you what would happen. We'll start again. This is stroke one. Please count."

I felt the tapping on my bum and then the cane was drawn away, This stroke was every bit as painful as the first, and I sobbed and jerked in my bindings and called out,

"One."

Again, I waited for another stroke. Again I heard Matron speak.

"Malcolm, the correct way to count is one, Matron, two, Matron, and so on. I'm sorry but we'll start again."

"Oh no," I moaned, "Please no," and behind me I heard my sister giggling.

"Be quiet girl," said Matron. "First stroke," and she started to tap the cane against my bum.

This time I got it right. Matron delivered the "first" six strokes at roughly ten-second intervals and despite the agonising discomfort I counted correctly to six, said "Matron" each time, and did not swear.

She was an expert in the delivery of pain. Each stroke was deliberately timed to land as the pain of the previous stroke had peaked and was just starting to ebb away. Pain built on pain, each stroke gifting more pain than the one before. After each stroke, I wriggled and tried to stamp my feet, but it was useless. I was bound too tight.

After the sixth stroke and I had screeched, "Six Matron", I lay still. My first set of six was over,.... or so I thought.

"Just the matter of the penalty stroke for swearing," said Matron softly. "Lucky for you there will be no further penalties for bad language."

"Please no..... Matron! Please no!"

"Rules are rules, Malcolm. Please prepare yourself. This one will hurt."

Up until then, she had targeted the centre of my buttocks but now she changed her aim. I heard the cane hum as it moved up and back. The noise of the down stroke was louder than before and the pain on impact was completely indescribable. She had swung the cane across and upwards into the crease between the top of the thigh and the base of the buttocks, the sweet spot where the flesh is most sensitive.

The pain was exquisite and agonising in its intensity.

"Ohhh Fuuuuck!" I screamed, "No more. No more, It fucking hurts! It fucking hurts so much!"

Then, as I writhed across the vaulting horse, Matron quietly spoke. Her voice was matter-of-fact.

"It's meant to hurt, Malcolm. If it didn't what would be the point?"

Eventually, I lay still, and now I heard Moira's mocking voice. Her tone was gleeful, hard, and unsympathetic.

"It's not very pleasant is it, Malcolm? Your bum's already a mess. Only a dozen more strokes, and it's going to hurt like hell and I'm going to watch it all. I wish Mother could see this. She'd fucking love it."

"I told you to be quiet, Moira. I don't want to hear another word from you. If I do I will ask you to leave and I'm sure you don't want that," said Matron. Her voice was soft but broached no argument.

It was then that I heard Claire speak for the first time.

"Hasn't he had enough, Matron?"

"No young lady he hasn't. He agreed to his punishment. But if you wish to leave?"

"I'll stay, Thank you, He needs a friend right now."

After a two-minute interval, Matron started in again. She was merciless. The cane rose and fell and rose again and I bucked and strained and swore continuously as she flayed me.

She paused again. Now the room was silent as each one of us remained alone with our thoughts. I lay quietly. I was no longer frightened and knew that I could take the last part of my punishment. Minutes later, when Matron resumed her exertions something had changed, a calm had descended over me, I relaxed and remained still, and as I did the pain became almost pleasurable; something to be savoured and not endured.

Then in my fugue-like state. I had a thought. Who enjoyed this most? The giver or the taker?

***

The caning was finished. It took me several seconds to realise that all movement had stopped, and my punishment was over. Matron, who only a little time earlier had done her best to hurt me, spoke almost kindly to me.

"I'm going to untie you but don't try to get up yet, Lie where you are, and I'll rub some cream onto your bum."

She knelt by the buck and unbuckled the leather straps around my wrists and just for a moment our eyes met, Her's glinted, and I saw her face was flushed and her lips moist. Later, her touch was almost loving as she slowly rubbed the healing salve into my bruises.

When I had recovered sufficiently I stood. I was unsurprised to see that Moira's chair was empty and she had gone. Claire sat silently. I could see a complicated mix of emotions on her face; concern. sympathy, guilt, and embarrassment. To my surprise, her face was also flushed, and just for a moment, I wondered whether some little part of her had enjoyed watching my caning.

Claire watched me stand, and as she did her eyes strayed to my groin and almost imperceptibly they widened, and I realised that now my penis had grown hard and erect and was pointing directly at her. She pretended she had not seen it, even though it was impossible to miss.

"Are you OK," she asked.

"I'm bloody sore," I said and tried to smile.

Gingerly, I pulled my boxers on and then put on my tee shirt.

"Take him home and look after him," said Matron.

***

Back in my room, I stood in front of the full-length mirror on my wardrobe door. Once more I was naked as I surveyed the damage that the cane had wrought. My arse was swollen and black and blue. It was covered in multiple parallel welts extending from top to bottom. Here and there a few specks of blood were visible. Matron had delivered exactly what she promised.

I removed the duvet from my bed and lay on my belly before pulling on the cord above my head to switch off the light. Then with my arms folded under my chin, I fell asleep. I didn't dream.

And then I thought that I was dreaming, A warm naked body lay beside me on my bed. In the dark, I could not see a face.

"Can we put on the light?" said a voice that I recognised as that of Claire.

I was shocked and excited in equal measure.

Slowly my eyes became accustomed to the light, and I saw Claire smiling across at me.

"I thought you might need company,..... May I see?"

"There's nothing stopping you."

She knelt beside me, and then I felt a finger gently trace a path across the ridges on my bum, and I heard her sigh. Her voice was gentle.

"You poor man. You were very brave."

"I deserved it."

"Of course, you didn't."

"I wanted her to cane me. I needed it."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Just like I don't know why I'm telling you these things."

"Maybe because you don't expect to see me again. You know I'm going to Canada soon. I'm away for a year."

"Or maybe because none of this seems real," I replied.

She stopped talking briefly and lay back down beside me, raised herself one elbow, and looked across at me.

"I'm real enough, as you are about to discover. Can you lie on your side and face me?"

I did as I was asked, and as I turned to face her she had her second view of my erect penis.

"That's starting to become a habit," she remarked. "I can see I'm going to have to look after you, just as Matron asked me to."

"I don't think this is what she meant," I croaked as Claire reached down and grasped my foreskin between her thumb and fingers and slowly moved it up and down.

"Of course, she did. Matron's a sexual sadist. She enjoyed caning you. She got off on making you suffer. I'm sure she fantasised about you later......Did it hurt?"

"Like hell, at first, and then not so much."

She stopped rubbing.

"And you wanted that pain?"

"Yes. Well no, I needed it."

"And you enjoyed the pain?"

"Of course not. The pain is all-consuming..... Indescribable. The anticipation Is the thing. Before I was caned I was so horny and after she had finished... Well, you saw."

"Thank you for your honesty. I felt guilty for earning you your punishment and now I know I shouldn't. I've got an admission to make. I didn't think I would, but I enjoyed watching you take your caning. Even though I did feel sorry for you, it turned me on......I was horny as hell."

She paused and smiled.

"Now you get your reward. Don't worry about me. I saw to myself before I came to you tonight. I wish that I could fuck you. I really do. But I'm not on the pill and I don't trust myself. Besides, you might be a little limited in your ability."

I felt her fingers grip my cock again and slowly start to move again.

"Please suck my tits. Lick around the nipples. I love it. You can think about fucking me or relive your caning as I wank you off. I'm not telling you what I'm going to fantasise about. A girl has to have some secrets."

She pulled herself up the bed to give me access to her tits and as I started to lick around her nipple it stood erect, and I heard her start to moan quietly. I watched her left hand working on my penis and then she placed her right hand between her thighs and started to frig herself. It was then that I took her other nipple in my mouth and slowly licked her areola, and her moans grew louder. The hand between her thighs was moving quickly, her right hand gripping me firmly, when she stiffened, raised her bum off the bed and her pelvis into the air, and groaned in ecstasy.

I felt her hand started to move again. My shaft was hard between her fingers as she drew my foreskin rapidly back and forth and I watched my swollen mushroom head disappear and reappear. I was in heaven. This was my first real experience with a woman, but I wasn't about to tell Claire that, and in any case, she hadn't asked. As I nibbled on her beautiful tits my pleasure grew, and then, when I thought I could stand it no longer, my penis seemed to swell and pulse, and rivers of cum erupted over her hand and my belly.

She lay beside me and kissed me briefly on the mouth.

"Now sleep," she said.

***

When I woke in the morning it was after ten o'clock and I was alone. Claire had disappeared sometime earlier. I had woken late, exhausted by the events of the night before. J showered and dressed and was about to visit the kitchen for something to eat when I noticed a white envelope that had been pushed under the door. It had my name written on it and inside was a handwritten note.

Dear Malcolm,

I would imagine that the last day or two has been an education for both of us. I have certainly found out things about myself that I never knew. I have also discovered things about your family that I never suspected. I was going to stay here for a few more days before flying to Montreal but I don't want to stay in this nest of vipers any longer. I fear if I did I would end up murdering both your mother and your sister. Claire was my friend and yet I knew nothing about her.

Your mother hates men and she has brainwashed all of your sisters to a greater or lesser extent. Claire is a real zealot. I am disgusted by what she thought she was subjecting you to. I don't know much about your family dynamics, but they are truly fucked up. My advice - get the fuck out and don't look back.

Good luck with your zoology. Enjoy Liverpool, It's a great city.

Believe me when I say that I will never forget you.

Love

Claire XXX

"Get the fuck out" is exactly what I did. I didn't wait for Mother to return. The same morning, I bought two suitcases cases, filled them with my books and my stamp collection, and headed for Liverpool. There, I booked into the Atlantic Towers Hotel and the following day I started to look for a house to buy. I knew that I was going to be in the city for at least the next three years and it would be a good investment. I was able to pick up a semi-detached three-bedroom house with a garden in Wavertree for twenty-five thousand pounds. Auntie was happy to advance me the money, and late In August I moved in, and two weeks later James joined me.

I worked and played hard in my first year at University. I joined the rugby club and played for the first team. In the summer I played cricket. In my first term, I had a couple of one-night stands and lost my virginity. In the New Year, I met Allison, and although she was a good fuck something was missing. I knew what it was, but I was too embarrassed to broach the subject of my kink, and in the summer term we parted company. This allowed me to apply myself to my studies and easily pass all my exams that year.

Despite my busy life, at first, I often found myself missing Claire. I wondered what she was doing and wondered whether she ever thought of me. To begin with, it was painful, but with time I thought about her a little less, just occasionally wondering where she might be. I had no way of contacting her anyway. Canada was a big place and she had simply disappeared. I wondered what might have been but told myself I must move on. Despite this, sometimes late at night, I felt that I had lost something important. Then I would tell myself that we had only met for three short days and hardly knew each other. That was the lie. She knew things about me that no other person had ever known.

***

It was after Christmas in my second year at University, and the spring term had started two weeks earlier when I was in the Students Union Building at lunchtime. I had just sat down in the lounge with some friends drinking a coffee when I heard someone calling my name. The voice sounded familiar, and I turned toward the person speaking to me.

"Hello, Malcolm."

I was stunned. Standing in front of me was Claire. When I had first met her eighteen months previously I had thought her to be ordinary-looking but when I looked at her that lunchtime I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

"Claire, is it really you?"

Then I crossed towards her, took her in my arms, held her tight, and kissed her, I kissed her long and hard and she kissed me back. We stopped kissing but I did not let her go but held her with her head against my chest. I kissed her gently on the top of her head.

"Thank God. You came back" I murmured.

She stepped away from me and smiled There were tears in her eyes.

"I told you that I would never forget you."

"Nor I you," I replied.

I looked her up and down,

"You look wonderful, Come and sit down."

Then I eased into the bench seat I had been sitting on and slid along to make room on the outside for her to sit. She squeezed in next to me and it was then that I realised that my group of friends had fallen into an embarrassed silence.

"I'm sorry I'm being rude," I said. "This is Claire, We're old friends."

"Hi," said a young lady called Angela, "I am pleased to meet you, but I get the feeling you two would like to be alone, Come on guys,"

We sat together, and then I took her two hands in mine and held them in my lap.

"How did you find me?"

"That was easy. I knew you were studying zoology at Liverpool University and that is a fairly unique address. I went to the faculty office and a nice lady confirmed that you were registered here. I came to the Union hoping you might come here for lunch. And here we are."

She took a deep breath. Her voice became serious,

"Listen, Malcolm, I had to come here for my good. I've thought about you a lot and had to see you. If you don't want to, you'll never see me again. I'll know it was a silly crush and I'll get on with my life."

I was a few months shy of twenty years old and inexperienced in every conceivable way. The only things that I had going for me were a house; half a million in the bank and almost half a degree in zoology. I was a naïve young man and completely unaccustomed to the flood of emotions I was feeling.

"I think I love you," I said. "I've spent the last year of my life missing and thinking about you. I don't think I'll ever let you go again."

She looked across at me, smiled radiantly, and then looked down into her lap and, as her emotions overwhelmed her, started to cry gently.

When she recovered she smiled at me again.

"I'm so happy," she said.

***

We sat and talked. She told me of her time spent at Notre Dame University in Montreal. She had loved it there but had found the harsh winters hard to get used to. She discussed her master's degree, of which she was rightfully proud. I asked her what her plans were, and she told me that she planned to get a teaching job.

She had returned to the UK three days ago and had travelled to her parents in Manchester where she was staying for the interim with her parents. Having told them she was job hunting; she had come to Liverpool the previous evening and was staying at the Atlantic Towers. It wasn't all a lie, there was a job in Liverpool that had been advertised. It was for a history teacher, and she was well qualified.

It was then that I told her of my father's death, of my bequest, and of how I had bought a house In Liverpool.

We talked about ourselves, and our childhoods, and my time at school, and hers. She told me about her parents, and I told her about my Auntie and Mrs White.

We never spoke of Moira or my Mother or of the caning she had witnessed, and which had brought us together.

And then I looked at my watch and it was half past five and four hours had passed.

"Are you hungry," I asked.

"Yes, but not for food. Please take me back to the hotel."

It was a half-hour walk from the Union to the hotel and it was already dark. The weather was freezing cold and windy, but Claire didn't seem to mind, wrapped up in a heavy Canadian winter coat. My coat was not as thick, and I vocalised this as we left the Union.

"Bbrrrrrrrr."

"I'll soon have you warm," she said.

***

Back at her room we shed our overcoats and embraced.

"I want you clean for what I have in mind for you," said Claire." So let's take a shower together. I've imagined this a hundred times when I was in Montreal. I haven't been with anybody since the night I last saw you. She looked at me and smiled but must have seen the panic in my eyes.

It's all right, Malcolm, you're forgiven -- for now. You didn't think that you would ever see me again."

We stood together in the shower cubicle, the hot water and the steam warming our naked bodies. We kissed and I held her tight against me, with my hands on her firm round buttocks and her breasts against my chest, I felt her take my penis in her hand and hold it by the tip, and I slipped the fingers of my right hand between her thighs. She knelt in front of me on her knees, took my penis in her mouth, then gently sucked as I held her head between my hands, and the warm water splashed off my head and down her back.