Thumper Ch. 05

George balanced a cane in his hand and approached Britt. With the tip of the cane, he undid the belt that loosely held Britt's robe together. The belt unwound and the robe opened slightly, revealing that Britt was nude underneath. He stood at her side and inserted the cane between the thin fabric and her breast. He ran the edge of the cane down the slope of her breast, over the nipple, and around its tender curve of its base. Britt's nipple hardened instantly and he repeated the movement in reverse. Britt purred.

Using the tip of the cane, George opened the flap of the robe to reveal more of Britt's voluptuous body. He lifted the robe over her shoulders on each side until it fell and pooled at Britt's feet. He walked around her, allowing the tip of the cane to circumnavigate her waist.

From any angle, she was perfect. George suppressed a twinge of guilt for even thinking it.

Using the tip of the cane, he drew a gentle circle around each nipple and played the edge of the cane quickly across it. He ran the cane down Britt's flank to the floor and up the inside of a thigh, pressing at a slight angle across the vulva. No complaint. Emboldened, he used the tip of the cane to trace the labia up to the pierced clitoris. He gently inserted the cane into the ring and lifted it. Britt responded with a gentle pressure against the cane.

So far, so good, thought George.

He led Britt by the hand to a tall padded bench that occupied the far corner of the attic.

George had Britt straddle the end of the bench. Britt regarded him expectantly.

"Close your eyes and put out your hands," said George.

Britt grinned, recognizing the words she'd used to entrap George.

George pulled her forward and fastened her wrists beneath the bench with the same handcuffs he'd worn.

He moved behind Britt and slid his hands under her thighs and pulled until her tender parts overhung the edge of the bench.

"Professor, what are you doing?" asked Britt in a lilting voice.

George decided to play along. "Cheating can get you expelled."

"Oh, professor, I can't afford to be expelled. Dad would kill me."

"Perhaps a suitable punishment?"

"Anything but expulsion."

"We'll see."

George retrieved a flogger from the wall and splayed its falls on Britt's upper back and ran them down to her ass. With gentle swings, he underhanded the falls to splash gently against the folds of her pussy. Britt swivelled her hips and edged her pelvis further out and arched her back to present her vagina more clearly. Taking the cue, George swung the flogger with greater intensity.

"Professor, that feels nice."

"Nice, unfortunately, doesn't qualify as punishment, does it?"

George swung the flogger in controlled circles just above the surface of her ass. He gradually lowered his hand until the falls brushed her flesh with a series of muted thwacks.

He then stepped back and worked the falls into a tight figure eight that he landed with increased authority. There was nothing muted about the sounds now. Each concussion was pronounced, and the skin grew red beneath the onslaught.

Was this too much? wondered George.

In answer, a purr of pleasure issued from Britt's lips.

George took a deep breath. "I've evaluated the gravity of your transgressions and it's clear to me that a more severe punishment is needed."

Britt said nothing.

George returned with a rattan cane and stood at Britt's hip. He tapped the length of it against both cheeks simultaneously. Experimentally, he tapped lightly half a dozen times on the right buttocks and then stuck with increased force on the seventh stroke. Britt yelped on the seventh, but didn't ask him to stop.

"Are you okay?"

Britt murmured in the affirmative.

George repeated the rhythm on the other side, increasing the intensity of both the lighter strokes and the final one in the pattern. He alternated several times between the left and right buttocks, both growing increasingly flushed.

The sound that now came out of Britt now did not belong to the coquettish student persona. This was Britt. Entirely Britt.

"Five more, okay? Then you're absolved."

George matched the intensity of the first stroke with the last of the previous cycle and worked it up from there. By the fourth, the slice of the crop through the air became louder and more insistent. The concussion against flesh became sharper and more biting. One the fourth stroke, he left the crop impressed on her flesh on the point of impact, nestled in the cross-hatching of the strokes that had landed before. The tender skin was pink with angry ridges of red, George saw with some alarm.

But Britt hadn't stopped him. Instead, she'd moaned, but it was a moan of pleasure.

Britt had demonstrated mercy on the last stroke that she'd applied to George. Surely she would expect him to do the same. George waited several seconds.

"Here's the last one," he said. Then, lightning quick, he thwacked the same spot with more force than he had yet applied.

Britt yelped and allowed a contented sigh to escape her lips as she relaxed.

Suddenly guilty at his own enjoyment of the scene, George bent and kissed each heated cheek where the angriest welt rose. Silently, he unlocked Britt's wrists.

She swung her legs over the bench and hung them over the side, grimacing as she adopted a seated position.

George stood before her, expectantly, but fearful. Here, he thought to himself, sat a woman upon whom he'd applied force. He shook his head slightly. Applied force? I'm kidding myself, he thought. He'd hit her. And he'd enjoyed it. Whether or not he'd crossed the line, it was still wrong.

Britt, naked and vulnerable, regarded him silently, her face an inscrutable mask.

Then, with the brightness of a tropical sun cresting the horizon, she broke into a wide smile. "That was brilliant, professor."