The Ritual

Tap Tap Tap At last the waiting was over. My stepfather was at my bedroom tapping the door with that horrid cane. God how I loathed that man.

"Come in."

In he came with that sickening little smile of his. Without a word he closed the door quietly behind him and looked at me sitting on the side of my bed with its quilted pick cover. I had offered to prepare myself for my caning by being in my pajamas or bra and panties but he would have none of that. No, he relished the slow undressing at his own hands. I had offered to have the lights dimmed but again he would have none of that. Why dim my humiliation?

At eighteen my body was in full bloom. And who was it offered up to love and cherish? Not some handsome young guy my age but to this horny middle aged man who had married my mother on a condition I was later to learn that he would have a free hand in disciplining me. She had consented.

"Stand up."

I stood and looked him in the eye with defiance.

"Aren't you going to kiss your step father?" I lifted my head and gave him a kiss on each cheek.

With that little ritual done he lifted my chin and put his nose almost to mine. From past experience I knew not to close my eyes at this close range but to look at him eye-to-eye as I smelled his fowl breath.

"I'm going to enjoy this my sweet. Oh how I am going to enjoy this."

He kissed my lips as I held them tightly closed. Then I felt his hand stroking my long brown hair as he continued to hold his lips to mind but with no attempt to part them.

He took a seat on the side of the bed and placed the wicked cane down beside him. As I looked down at him he began to unbutton my blouse ever so slowly. In defiance I continued to look at his eyes so that each time his turned away from the task he was performing they met mind. This was my way of communicating my contempt for him.

When the last button was unfastened he waved his hand. I understood. I took my blouse off and laid it neatly on an armchair as was another part of our little ritual. I returned to resume my stance before him.

He put his hands on my bare waist just above my skirt and started in with his lustful caressing. As his hands meandered about he looked me in the eye and gave me that ugly smirk of his with his upper lip curled up on one side.

"You like this, don't you?"

He didn't expect a response and I didn't give him one.

"I know you do. You don't need to say it. Your body says it for you."

I looked down to see that my breathing had indeed quickened as shown by my rising and falling bosom. For a moment I held my breath to stop that but of course couldn't hold it for long.

He widened his smirk as I felt his hands make for the fastener of my bra there on my back. In an instant he had it undone leaving me to hold the bra on by pressing my arms against my sides and the straps. Now his hairy hands were free to roam over my entire bare back.

Once he tired of that he pulled the bra towards him and looked down. We both could see my breasts down almost to my nipples. When he pulled on the cups I pressed my arms tighter against my sides to hold the bra on.

"Present your hands."

I raised my forearms and presented my palms knowing what lay ahead. He picked up the cane began to strike them one at a time. Not hard, but without letup as I continued to press my arms to my sides to hold the bra on.

I continued to look him in the eye as he continued on tap tap taping my sore open palms. He smirked. I hated it when I felt tears begin to form in my eyes from the unrelenting little caning of my palms. His smirk became the more hideous as it went out of focus because of the tears which I couldn't stop.

"Put your bra away."

I walked to the armchair where I deposited it neatly along with my blouse. Knowing better than to return to my stance before him with my hands covering my breasts I simply walked back with my burning hands at my sides.

I stood there before him as he continued to sit on the bedside and moved his head all about as he visually inspected each breast. Then his hairy hands went to work as his fingers roamed over them. When he lifted them and looked up I could no longer look at his smirking face. As I stared off into space over his head I knew that I was losing this round. Then he went into his little game of lifting them and letting them drop only to repeat this over and over as my caned hands burned.

Now his fingers began making little circles about my nipples. Damn it I thought as I felt them harden. Then I felt my breath quickening. Double damn it. My mind flashed to my mother who had to know what was happening from this silence. Oh God she must be picturing what is going on. I wondered if she ever asked.

"Why don't you just cane me and be done with it?"

"You are a sassy brat. Don't tell me you weren't aroused."

"Damn you. I hate you."

With that he squeezed my hardened nipples. "It's not nice to hate, girl. Put away your skirt."

His fingers came free of my nipples as I stepped back and unzipped my skirt. I put it neatly with my blouse and bra and retuned wearing just my mini poker dot panties. My fortitude returned enough for me to resume my eye-to-eye contact as he lustfully examined my abdomen and legs. His hairy hands took hold of my bare hips and began to rove about.

"Spread."

I spread my legs. Oh how I wished I was wearing full size panties instead of these mini ones. But that was a no-no. You see only these mini ones could be tucked into the crease in my ass so as to bare it without my panties being removed. That way he could truthfully say that he had allowed me to wear my panties as I was caned so as to maintain my modesty. What an asshole.

With my legs spread his hands caressed my inner thighs. They wondered about over my stomach and my rear and my naked breasts. Now one hand went to my covered crotch which it messaged as his other hand returned to my breast. When his eyebrows lifted as he gave me a knowing smile I could no longer maintain eye contact. Again I went to staring into space over his head as one of his fingers went into the crease in my panties over my lips of Venus.

"Nice; huh?"

No response.

Damn it if my breath wasn't quickening again. Damn it. As my mouth opened to draw in my air I turned my face to one side. His finger was working my panties-covered clic now.

Damn it all to hell. He was getting me aroused. Damn it. Damn it. To break the spell I tried to think of my waiting mother and of what she must be thinking as my bedroom remained silent. And I thought of my punished hands. But I was getting even more aroused. Suddenly he stopped.

"Don't stop," I whispered. I couldn't believe that I had actually said that out loud. I had meant to say that only to myself.

"Time to move along, I'm afraid."

With that I felt him tuck the seat of my panties into the crease of my two ass cheeks. Lord if I hadn't almost forgotten about the caning.

He stood. "Get the mirror and take position." How well knew this routine.

I went to my dresser and took the sizable mirror with handles on each side much like a tray. I knelt down on the bed with my exposed butt up high and searched for him in the mirror. You see he had this rule that I had to maintain eye-to-eye contact with him as he caned my ass. He insisted on his getting double pleasure from seeing my ass reverberate from the impact of each stroke and my facial expression in response.

I found him in the mirror almost salivating as he studied my upraised butt with my poker dot panties stuffed into my ass crease awaiting the cane. Then I saw him look into the mirror to check that I was eye-to-eye with him. As I saw him raise the horrid cane far back over his shoulder I closed my eyes and grimaced.

I waited. I waited. And so did he for me to watch his attack.

Slowly I opened my eyes. When our eyes met he unleased the first cut with a raw vengeance.

We stared at each other in the mirror as we both waited and waited. And then with that hideous little smile of his he watched my facial expression change as I felt the first line of fire materialize and intensify. And intensify. And my face grimace in pain.

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