The Cane

She never took her eyes from him. He entered as he should, wearing only ankle and wrist cuffs. They were the beautiful set she’d had fashioned for him. The leather soft and soupple, they fitted him perfectly, no suds or adornments of any kind, he needed none, he was a beautiful man a delight to behold and the simple elegant cuffs he wore signed for all to see that he was hers owned body and soul by her.

For a large and powerfully built man, he move with the grace of a dancer, the economy of his movement was faultless to behold. In one fluid movement he came and knelt before her, bowed his head to her, remaining silent. She smiled. Leaning forward she caressed his cheek tenderly, her long red nails tracing softly across his skin. Her voice a whispered purr “My sweet sweet boy.” She smiles as she felt a shiver run through his body at her touch.

“Yours,” he whispered.

He kept his eyes downcast as she rose, from his position, he could see the tips of her scarlet thigh boots, she trailed her hand over his shoulder as she moved around him. Viewing him, surveying him, assessing him. Kneeling behind him, she clicked a padlock onto the rings of his ankle cuffs, securing them together with a short length of chain. She then moved to stand before him, her legs straddling his kneeing form she deftly fastened a tall posture collar around his neck, this brought his head up and for the first time he looked up into her face.

This was a man, who would hold himself proudly, no simpering sniveling unic, but in his eyes she saw no hint of rebellion, no hint of anything but total acceptance of her complete sovereignty over him. He was hers, to do with as she wished.

As she leaned close to him to lock the small silver padlock into place, she felt him shudder and she smiled. She knew that her essence filled his nostrils that once More he breathed in her scent and it thrilled him. She cupped his chin, tilting his head further back so she could better lookinto his eyes, she whispered “Who’s?”

His reply came in a hoarse sight of utter devotion, “Yours.”

This was her boy and she knew him, knew him better than perhaps he knew himself, knew his fears and his desires, knew his strength and his endurance. Fasting a lean to the D ring at the front of his posture collar, she gave a sharp tug. Silently he stood and followed her. The crisp clean click of her heels Contrasted sharply with the near soundless pad of his bare feet on the paved floor. She walked at a brisk pace, tugging on his lean occasionally to force him to move more quickly. Slowing her pace only marginally to accommodate his difficult negotiating the garden steps, she led him out into the large terraced garden. Moving across the gravel path she felt him stumble, but did not slacken the pace at which she walk, He curried to keep up with her… Abruptly she stopped, turned looked deep into his eyes and smiled. She produced a leather hood from the small pouch she cArried over her shoulder and fixed it firmly in place over his head, pulling the leather thronging tight, he stood motionless, now in complete darkness, the sounds of the garden muffled by the hood. She set off in the direction of a large oak tree at the centre of the garden; he followed her, his stride confident in her ability to keep him safe from harm.

Upon reaching the tree, she guided him to lean forward, his chest pressed against Its rough bark. With practiced skill she lashed red silk ropes through his wrist cuffs and tied his arms around the trunk. With still more rope, she circled the truck, binding him to its trunk in a tortures embrace. Finally through an eye hook hidden at the base of the trunk she secured his ankles.

Once he was firmly secured, she stepped very close, so close she could feel the heat of his body against her skin, smell the scent of his sweat. Through the thick leather of the black hood he wore, he heard her voice purring close to his ear, “Mine.”

An involuntary shiver ran through his body, this made her smile, as she stroked his bare back lightly with her nails. Purring soft words of comfort offering tender touches before, without warning, she rakes her nails harsh down the length of his spine. His muscles tensed, but he remained silent. Seeing the red tracks her nails had left on his skin she seemed pleased.

Leaning beside the tree were a Collection of canes she had left there earlier. Taking up the thinnest of them, she stepped back. With the speed of lightening, she brought the cane down across his exposed buttock, instantly red welts appeared. 6 quick strokes produced a starred pattern across his ass. His body went rigid, and he sucked air had through the zipped mouth hole of the leather hood. Before his body had time to relax, she stepped in close behind him, pressing the full length of her body against his, licking a bead of sweat from between his shoulder blades. Purring softly into his ear, ‘Such a good boy,” she murmured.

After selecting a thicker cane she stepped back and began working with accomplished skill to stripe his butt. Never landing on the same place twice she paused from time to time to move close to him, telling him what a good boy he was. Softly running her long nails across his tender buttocks or slapping his bared ass hard with her open palm, overlaying a bright hand print on the red welts of the canes harsh kiss. At each pause he did not know if the touch would be tender or cruel. With each temporary halt she selected a new cane, each slightly different from the last. Longer, shorter, thicker more flexible, stresser, each cane leaving its own unique mark on his buttocks and thighs.

His body gleamed with sweat and his breathing came in rough gasps, her breathing became a panting care against his skin. Her eyes shone with delight. She was so proud of her boy and she told him so.

Finally she stepped back and surveyed her handiwork. His bottom appeareda mass of unforgiving red welts. Slowly she caressed his back and buttocks, feeling the heat the welts gave off, the goose bumped texture of his tortured behind. With infinite tenderness she removed his hood. Tenderly she finger combined his sweaty hair, soft lips brushing against his neck and ear, purring words of pride. Quickly she untied the ropes that had held him captive and she stood strong and tall, allowing his weakened body to lean against her, allowing him to draw strength from her. After a moment or two standing together in this intimate embrace she guided him to a blanket that she had arranged on the ground under the shade of the oak.

Lying down beside him she gathered him to her, stroking his skin softly, pressing her lips softly against his sweat soaked skim. He nuzzled against her, clinging to her, quiet sobs racked his body and he clung to her as if his life depended on it. Drawing strength from her, they lay together quiet and still, him cradled in her arms.

This was her boy and she was proud of him.