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An Introduction
Julia's Way
The Long Way
A Wee Drop
Club Night
The Welcome

The Stories of Yvonne Sinclair

Alice And Anna
On The Beach
The Bisley Boy
Silk Stockings On A Ladder
A Merry Ferry Christmas
Stella and Fanny

The Sacred Feminine

The Sacred Feminine

The Dominafuhrer

The New Recruit

The Story Of T

Arrival At The Institute

VO Stories

Miss Malcahy's Detention
Nine and a Half Hours

The Weight Loss

I Sign A Contract

The Convict

The Convict


A Caning By Miss Spiteful
Always On The Bare
A Visit To Greenwich
At My Lady's Pleasure
Ball Shackle Story
I Met Claire In A Coffee Shop
Judicial Bastinado
Kevin's Poem
Long Weekend
Long Weekend Conclusion
My Visit
Robin's Electrical Torture
Shoeshine Boy
Slave To The Cane
The Basement
The Colony
The Escape Artist
The Huntress Caning
The Language School
The Worm's View
Webb Encounters

The Bossy Bank Women

A Judicial Punishment

The Valkyrie

Episode 1


The Vision
The Agreement
First Blood




Julia's Way

Julia surveyed the room. A large, luxurious room, sumptuously furnished with a deep white leather three-piece suite, shagpile carpet, silk and satin hangings in rich red and gold. Several oak doors led off to other rooms, to other parts of the large Victorian house. It was her room, she had made it, planned it, furnished it and now she lived and loved in it. She hardly needed to survey it; she knew every crevice and cranny intimately, it was never disturbed. No, she was looking for something else. She was checking that it was quite ready, not a speck of dust anywhere, all perfectly clean and tidy.

Tall, slender and beautiful she made a lovely picture standing there in her rich golden ankle-length satin cape with only her head visible with its long black hair tumbling down her back. As she turned slowly round the cape swished and gently crackled, breaking the silence which had pervaded the room with its plethora of soft surfaces. All seemed in order, as indeed it had to be, or her cleaner would have something to answer for. He would not forget in a hurry, Julia always made sure of that. But this time everything was in its place, every speck of dust removed, the satin curtains ruched precisely as they should be in their tiebacks. Everything was ready, the arrangements had been made and everyone had been playing their part in what had been a carefully planned and, so far, carefully executed operation. In any case it would be too late now to bring the cleaner back, things were about to start. It was time.

As she slowly lowered herself into one of the deep armchairs a glimpse could be had under the hem of her cape of the golden yellow rubber lining whose silky smoothness she now felt pressed against her fully naked body, made all the more exciting as the coolness of the leather chair struck through the garment as the cape slid gently over her whilst she settled herself in comfort.

She sat there for a minute or two, drinking in the experience and thinking about what was about to take place. Although desperate for the action to start, she disciplined herself to wait, to savour the anticipation. The intense anticipation. Intense anticipation was an important part of what was about to happen, all part of the plan.

In due time she reached out through the arm slit, her delicate wrist emerging and lifting a small silver bell from the little mahogany table by the chair. The bell hung suspended in the air as Julia hesitated, seemingly unsure whether to . . .

The bell tinkled. After a few seconds Carlos entered through one of the oak panelled doors. Carlos was Spanish. He was of medium height, slightly heavier that the average for his five foot nine, but it was immediately obvious that his weight owed far more to musculature than it did to fat. He was an extremely powerful man, slightly dark of skin with a round smiling face, shaved every morning. The regular shaving notwithstanding, he always seemed to have a dark shadow on his lower jaw, the jet blackness of his hair no doubt accounting for this colouring. He wore heavy black leather trousers and a black leather vest leaving his strong, hairy arms fully exposed from the shoulders. Carlos always said he was Spanish but Julia was not entirely convinced; he had an accent which did not sound quite right for Spain. Neither, for that matter, did it sound like any recognisable accent with which she was familiar. Nevertheless he was a superb practitioner of what he was here to do, of what Julia had brought him into the country specifically to do for her; indeed he was acknowledged throughout the world for his specialist skill and Julia counted herself very lucky to have him.

Carlos crossed the spacious floor towards Julia and they smiled at each other. He could tell that she was eager and tense and had a familiar look of excitement in her eyes which was not only due to the voluptuousness of the golden cape. She gave him a nervous, barely perceptible nod and without a word he left the room.

When he returned a minute or so later he was not alone. He was preceded by two men, dressed in black, carrying something long and evidently very heavy but which was concealed from view by a black sheet draped over it. They set the burden down in front of Julia. Carlos gave some directions and they moved the burden a little this way, then that, until he was satisfied with its placement. The two carriers stood back whilst Julia gazed breathlessly and the black bundle. Something seemed to move under the sheet.

With tantalising, frustrating slowness, Carlos gradually lifted one end of the black sheet. First to be revealed was a pair of ankles encircled by thick leather straps attached to some sort of framework. The slow process continued, uncovering a pair of legs astride this framework and, eventually, a pair of firm, round buttocks. From the view afforded by the spread legs it was now confirmed that this was very much a male. The body was still largely covered by the sheet but was clearly horizontal, bent forward over the frame. Carlos stopped lifting the sheet at this point, folding back the section in his hands so it laid over the back of this evidently helpless person, leaving the naked buttocks exposed to the cool air of the room.

As Carlos stood back slightly, Julia gazed fascinated at the firm rounded flesh.

"I want to see him" she said - there was a tremble in her voice. Carlos moved to the other end of the sheet and, again, slowly lifted it to reveal pair of wrists, also encircled with heavy leather straps attached to the front of the frame, stretching a pair of arms separated as if embracing. The head appeared, its eyes blinking in the unexpected brightness of the room lighting. It was a youngish looking face, fresh, clean shaven but with a look of abject terror in its sunken eyes. It frantically turned left and then right, looking alternately at Carlos and Julia, not seeming to know which was the more frightening. The prisoner was pulling ineffectually at the heavy straps; they were not going to give, come what may, that was very clear.

Again Carlos folded back the sheet and laid it on the miserable creature's back, leaving his head now exposed as well as the rear end. Julia drank in the scene, almost drooling at the sight, anxious to proceed but reluctant to let go of the moment.

Again the slight nod towards Carlos. He barked to the men still standing back from the scene "Bring it!". The men disappeared.

When one of them returned a minute or so later, he was carrying The Cane. It was fully five feet long, perhaps one inch in diameter at one end, tapering to about a quarter of an inch at the tip. The first eighteen inches or so of the thicker end was wound with black tape to form a handle. Carlos took the weapon and dismissed the servant with a nod. The servant left. Now there were just Julia, queen-like in her golden robe, Carlos, in his world renowned role of Lord High Executioner, and their charge, strapped prostrate and helpless to what was clearly a whipping frame.

There were more straps, hanging loosely at the back of the frame. Carlos took one and passed it round one of the prisoner's legs as high into the crotch as he could go, then pulled it very tightly so the leg was held immovably against the frame, the strap digging a deep groove into the soft flesh just beneath the buttock. The same with the other leg. The prisoner struggled furiously, arms and legs wriggled in their straps, the head thrashed from side to side, moaning, but the buttocks remained quite still. Carlos was satisfied.

The Executioner held the formidable cane, gripping it in the same double-handed manner as a professional golfer at the tee. He looked expectantly at Queen Julia. A bare arm reached out of the golden cape with the hand holding a silk handkerchief which was raised up to shoulder level. Julia revelled in mediaeval practices, the jousting, the barbaric punishments and these quaint procedures like dropping the handkerchief. She was in her element now, ecstatic in the power she held in that one hand - between just two elegant, dainty fingers. She gazed into the terrified face and the sunken eyes, smiling gently and savouring the long moment. It was at least a full tension-charged minute before the handkerchief fluttered to the floor.

The cane was raised; Carlos swung it right back - again as in a golf swing - until it was fully behind him and high in the air. Then, with a mighty effort, putting all his considerable strength into the swing, the cane descended as quick as a lightning flash and, with immense power, landed with an almighty crack against the bare flesh of both rounded buttocks. Immediately the air was rent by an ear-splitting scream; half a second later it reached an even higher intensity as the full agony of the stroke registered. Wrists and ankles tore at their tightly buckled leather straps, the head was thrashing violently as the scream continued for what seemed and age, but was probably twenty seconds or so. But the buttocks remained still, as they had to because the next stroke called for great precision. Very gradually the noise subsided into sobbing moans. Julia was smiling broadly at the contorted face and regarded the single bright red line across both buttocks with mounting excitement.

The skin had not broken. Carlos gently stroked the tip of the cane upwards over the buttocks. As it crossed the red stripe the prisoner shrieked, testifying to the extreme tenderness that the first stroke had left behind. Carlos, oblivious to the screams, carefully positioned the cane along the line of tenderness and took up the stance, never taking his eyes off the red aiming line. Everyone knew exactly where the next stroke would fall: Carlos, who knew what he was doing and knew he never missed; Julia who had seen it all before and was drooling with excitement, and the prisoner, still in agony, who was wishing as he never wished before that he could die before the second. That wish was not to be granted.

Carlos waited. He was not one to rush things; leave that to the amateurs.

Again the cane was raised high as the prisoner moaned and wailed in anticipation of what he could not comprehend, what he could only fear in almost mortal desperation. Although the impact was at least as heavy as the first, the crack was less as the skin broke and spongy tissue absorbed, with indescribable agony, the remaining force of the stroke. Blood started to flow, the screams reached a new intensity. Despite the desperate writhing of arms, legs and head, the buttocks remained still and in place.

Writhing was also apparent inside the golden cape as Julia pulled the smooth rubber against her body and slithered ecstatically within its caresses. Carlos now lowered his aiming point, searching out the virgin flesh for the next stroke. He continued, searing stroke after searing stroke, until he could not see flesh for blood, then he aimed the strokes at his whim into the red pulp. Julia's ecstasy continued to heighten, she was now bouncing up and down in the armchair so much that the crackle of the cape

could be heard even above the prisoner's hoarse screaming.

* * *

Suddenly the screaming stopped. The writhing body was still. At long, long last the merciful veil of unconsciousness had descended. Carlos checked that the head was forward, the tongue clear of the back of his throat so the prisoner could breathe freely. He rested the cane.

* * *

As consciousness slowly returned to the prisoner, he could not work out where he was or what was happening. He was firstly aware of a steadily increasing agony which seemed to pervade his whole body. He also became aware that he could not move without having any idea why and saw an unfamiliar shagpile carpet in front of his face. The agony was increasing as his mind began to clear and then the terrifying realisation struck him and he knew where he was and what was taking place. Tensing himself for the next stroke he looked round but did not see Carlos. There were strange noises in the room. He moved his head round to look in the other direction. Carlos was leaning over the caped Julia, one arm reaching down inside the cape through one of the arm slits, Julia with her head back, moaning a crescendo. As he realised what he was seeing, Julia exploded into wild ecstatic screams, throwing herself into the air and falling back into the chair, her cape awry, where she remained motionless and breathing very deeply, her eyes closed. Carlos withdrew his arm.

Carlos, ringing the silver bell, fetched the two men back into the room where they started cleaning up. They took the prisoner away to the waiting ambulance which would take him to the single room, reserved for him without his knowledge, at an understanding private hospital.

* * *

He lay on the bed with his still stinging buttocks facing upwards, covered in bandages, his head to one side looking towards the window. The doctor had just been in to see him and had pronounced himself quite satisfied with the progress of the extensive wounds, although they were extraordinarily severe for a caning case. But it was all over now, the pain remaining was sufficiently bearable to allow clarity of thought for the first time. Already he was beginning to realise that when, in future, he was to look back at these events, he would remember today as by far the best day of his entire life, by a long way.

He heard his door open but didn't see the ward sister as she walked in. "A cup of tea for the patient" he heard as he turned his head awkwardly round to the other side of the room. He could see her feet and the lower part of her uniform, and, as he manoeuvred himself round for a better view, something was stirring in his mind, trying to get through. A few moments later he was seeing her properly. "I don't think you'll let yourself be caught smoking in my dungeon again", said Julia, placing the cup on the bedside table. His nose told him that it was laced with a generous slug of whisky.


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