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Providing real fetish content
 

  A BRITISH SLAVE
by: Mistress Caitlin 

He was an English slave who had craved the cane as a young boy. He came to the United States, and Mistress Caitlin caned him.

The British Slave

He had submissive, subservient, slavish longings his entire life. He grew up as a small boy in Britain. He was small and slight, and when he was in grade school, the other boys tormented him. He could not control himself, and he used a curse word at the big bully. Oh no!!! The headmaster heard him. He was ordered to come into the headmaster's office.

Mr. Smithley said, "Young man, you can't use those foul, disgusting words in our school. Drop your pants now, and bend over that desk. You are getting ten strokes with my bamboo cane."

Poor Jeffrey shivered with humiliation, anticipation and guilt. There was part of him that was so degraded and humbled. He felt that he was totally worthless. However, a secrect, inner, shameful part of him inside felt excited about the caning. He shook so much that he could hardly get his pants down. His hands trembled, and he could hardly unbutton his pants and get his zipper down. Finally, he got his knickers down to his ankles, and his poor, scrawny ass was bare. He bent over the desk. The rough wood of the old desk abraded his tender skin, as his stomach was pushed against the edge and his elbows slid across the top. Jeffrey felt splinters penetrating his tender skin, and he felt the tears coming from his eyes.

The office of the Headmaster was so cold, that his skin had goosebumps all over it. The anticipation of his ordeal was killing him. Mr. Smithley barked, "Young man, I want you to count the strokes of my cane and thank me after every stroke. Do you understand?" Jeffrey whimpered and whispered in a tiny voice, "Yes, Sir."

Mr. Smithley went over to the cabinet that was on the back wall of his office. He opened the doors, and there hung wooden paddles, canes and whips. He selected a bamboo cane that was one-quarter of an inch thick. He slowly walked back across the floor, tapping the cane against the palm of his hand as his heavy steps dragged across the floor. When he reached the desk, poor Jeffrey shook so much he almost fell down.
Mr. Smithley tapped the cane against the edge of the desk next to the poor, pathetic boy.

"Now count!!!" he barked. The cane flew through the air. The pain of the first stroke was searing and Jeffrey felt the skin of his bare buttocks flaming. He began to count, and after his count, he said, "Thank you, Sir." The cane whipped through the air again and again. The poor boy thought he would never make it through all ten strokes. He felt the welts and bruises being raised on his ass. Now, he began to feel a secret thrill in his groin. Could he actually be getting aroused at this? Could he be getting sexually thrilled over this caning? Was he a secret masochist? His cock got hard as more strokes landed, and he said the final count of ten. What would the future bring for him?

 

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