The story begins here.
At 12:20 Melanie Bandford saw a clique of women from one of the rich and elitist sororities approaching with evil smiles on their faces. As they got closer, Melanie remembered the prank, she and her sorority sisters had played on them last month. Clearly their presence was no coincidence. They immediately formed a queue and the one who seemed to be leading them reminded them that they were to limit their turns to twenty lashes each.
Melanie tugged at her bonds again, involuntarily seeing a queue of ten women forming, a gleaming look of sadism in their eyes. The first young woman picked up the 2A cane from the group’s leader and immediately began swishing it through the air. She was blond and athletically pretty and seemed to know just what she was doing somehow. She even measured the distance from the tip of the cane to make sure it wouldn’t wrap. Taking a step back, she whipped the cane right across the center of Melanie’s bottom cheeks.
Enough time had passed for Melanie to no longer be accustomed to the pain of caning. This blow was calculated to inflict the most pain possible without breaking the cane or hitting an illegal spot. Melanie threw her head back, wide-eyed and let out a long whine. By the end of this whine a tear had begun to drop down her cheek and her mouth was drawn down again into a frown.
A larger crowd was gathering now that this group of pretty young women was involved in punishing one of her own. There were various reactions to seeing this whipping begin afresh. Several winced in sympathy to the obvious pain she was going through. Some looked evilly gleeful. Some appeared to be aroused, while others seemed to work very hard at disguising their arousal.
The current caner waited until Melanie had almost stopped wriggling her hips in a vain attempt to wriggle some relief from the pain. Melanie turned to face her caner, saying nothing but showing by her pained expression that she was really sorry and with her eyes begging for mercy. None was forthcoming as the young woman whipped in again. Another big tear rolled down Melanie’s blushing cheek.
Her shoulders began to shake with sobs as cane stroke followed cane stroke, deliberately aimed to hurt her as much as the law allowed. It took 8 of those strokes before Melanie was able to put herself back into the head space of accepting that she was being whipped, there was no way to stop it, and it must simply be accepted and lived with. At that point she closed her eyes and let the tears flow.
She cast her mind back to a spanking she had received across the knees of her uncle Tyler when she had told him she had no intention of going to school any more. She was fifteen and strong and stubborn. He had held her down and given her 200 spanks on her short skirt. He never pulled it up, but then again he didn’t have to. The material was thin and he was a strong man. After he’d gone past 100 spanks, Melanie had realized this wasn’t going to be a run of the mill spanking. She knew she was in big trouble. He let her up after 200 punishing spanks. She wiped tears from her face, rubbed her bottom, and again told him she still wasn’t going to school. He had shrugged and pulled her back over his lap for 200 more. Then when that 200 was done, he paused for a moment to shake out his hand. Then he gave her 50 more spanks. The second time she was let up from his lap, she couldn’t talk for a couple of minutes, clearly stunned and uncertain of her next steps. She had rubbed her bottom during those minutes, deciding on what she could take. Then, a third time, she swallowed hard and informed her uncle Tyler that she still wasn’t going to school. He had actually looked somewhat impressed, before pulling her back over his lap for another 300 spanks. This last time, she still cried, but it was mostly from the pain of really wanting relief from being spanked, but knowing that relief is not coming for quite a while. Also, she knew she didn’t have the personal fortitude to talk herself into a forth spanking. At that moment, she could only imagine that receiving more than 750 spanks was just not good for a growing girl. She knew she wouldn’t ‘ask’ for a fourth spanking. She just couldn’t take it.
At this moment, receiving this sadistic caning, Melanie would have gladly traded places with her fifteen-year-old self. But she was also aware that such a trade would not be fair to her younger self. Four years had made quite a difference in her level of self-awareness and self-confidence. Now she could take more, deal with more. She now knew she had a gift for taking whippings and would make the most of it.
The young woman eagerly enjoying caning Melanie, noticed the change in her attitude. Melanie was still crying, but the expression on her face had changed to almost a daring defiance. Melanie looked the woman straight in the eyes as if to say, ‘Yes, this hurts like hell, but you are not about to break me. I don’t break.’
Having reached twenty hard cane strokes, the young woman reluctantly, almost sheepishly stopped caning Melanie and handed the cane to the next woman in line.