TITLE    : The Master of the Cane
STORYID  : the-master-of-the-cane
SUMMARY  : A patient Master teaches a painful lesson.
AUTHOR   : Cal Y. Pygia@lit
DATE     : 2014-08-15
CATEGORY : bdsm-stories
FLAGS    : 
TAGS     : |gay|ass|spanking|cane|anal|sex|humiliation|art|dominance|submission|


He is naked. Bent over a small stand, his abdomen supported upon a stack of pillows, he stands, legs spread, firm, sleek ass already red. Between his thighs, his balls hang like the clapper of a small bell, ready to be rung.

He awaits his Master's pleasure.

On the wall to the left, a rack displays an assortment of instruments for flogging--whips and taws, mostly. There are no paddles, rods, or birches, their absence suggesting that the Master is likely to be a Man who believes in administering intense, even extreme, punishment, a Man who is apt to seem, to lesser "men," to be "merciless," even "cruel." The wall is otherwise bare, the room sparsely furnished. The one concession to decoration, a floral carpet of dubious taste, is a sign intended to show the Master's indifference to, and disdain for, art, culture, and the "finer things in life."

His shadow behind Him, on the wall, the Master appears--but He is visible only to His chest. He wears a short-sleeve shirt, a tie, a watch on His left wrist, dark-green slacks, and dark shoes. His right hand and lower arm rise; He holds a thick cane, horizontal at the same level of the naked male's bottom. Once, the cane touches the waiting male's buttocks, a mere tap, as if the Master is making sure of His aim. A second tap. A third. The bent-over male wonders at what point the Master will strike. A fourth touch of the cane. The anxiety builds inside the anxious male. A fifth touch. Then, the Master swings, and the cruel instrument slashes across the naked, defenseless bottom, furrowing the red cheeks for a moment and sending a shock of intense pain through the quivering orbs. The impact drives the victim hard against the small stand, and, as if in a vain effort to shake off the agony that afflicts him, the sufferer shakes his legs. However, he neither cries out nor offers resistance. The Master steps away, His shadow shifting on the wall.

But He withdraws for a moment only, lashing out anew, without warning; the cane falls in a fierce arc against the submissive male's buttocks, causing him to lift the heels of his feet and to flex his legs, but he knows better than to abandon his bent-over posture or to give voice to his pain. He has been well trained. He knows his place.

As He shakes the cane up and down, the Master allows His victim a few seconds to shake off--or to attempt--to shake off the pain that continues to explode in his bottom.

Then, after laying the instrument twice against the naked male's backside, tormenting him with a reminder of what is about to befall him, the Master delivers a fierce blow of the cane across the cheeks of the helpless male's ass, and, as before, the victim bounces on his toes and shakes his red, agonized bottom. Although these actions are more instinctive than deliberate and bring him no relief, he performs them automatically, simply because his poor tormented buttocks require that he make at least a pretense of alleviating the anguish they must endure.

Again, the Master, exercising patience, permits the victim a few moments' respite from his punishment as He shakes out the cane, knowing there must be a lull between the strokes of His instrument so as to intensive their effects, both real and anticipated. However, the momentary pause is soon over, as the Master again steps up to bat.

After resting the cane against the red bottom once, testing His aim, the Master lets fly, and there is another resounding whack. The unfortunate recipient of this third blow can do nothing more than he has already done: "dance" in place, bouncing, flexing, and shaking while the fiery pain sears his flesh.

The Master is at all times in control. He is cool, calm, detached. He is driven by neither His emotions nor by the reactions of the male He punishes, nor is He swayed by the lesser "man's" passionate pleas for mercy. He is is controlled only by His own will. He has nothing to prove. He is not merely a male among other males, like other "men," but a true Man, who rules others as He rules Himself. He is deliberate, methodical, purposeful, delivering or withholding the strokes of His cane according to His own designs. All that He does is done to establish, to maintain, and to extend His Mastery of Himself and His Mastery over other, inferior males.

He stands away, His shadow looming large on the wall, waiting for the precise moment to arrive before stepping again into place, laying the cane against the red bottom that He has decorated with swelling welts, and delivering a vicious slash of the cane across the defenseless bottom. The male again bounces upon his toes, flexes his legs, and shakes his hips, but his pitiful attempts to find relief from the horrific pain that fills his gut, as it does his rear end, avails him nothing. It is through repetition that the Master teaches the abused that there is no defense and no comfort from the punishment He metes out. There is only His will. He is patient; He will repeat the lesson as many times as it takes for the insignificant male he punishes to learn it and to remember it.

After a moment, the cane rises and falls again, but, finally, the poor bastard who must endure the agony does not repeat his useless "dance." The Master watches, impassively, as the male maintains self-control, standing motionless, though dreading the next blow to his beleaguered ass.

The Master stands for a long moment, examining His handiwork. His motionless victim's bottom bears half a dozen stripes, each of them red and puffy, and there is a tear in the skin of his right buttock. The wretch's balls hang between his legs, reminding the Master of the tail of a cowering dog. He sets the cane aside.

For today, the poor excuse for a man who bends over the stand has had sufficient punishment to understand that it is futile to hope for any release other than that which the Master chooses to allow--a temporary respite, the better to contrast with and sharpen the sessions during which the submissive, lesser "man," must submit to the will and the cane of the true Man, his Master.

The submissive male's striped ass, red and purple like ripened fruit, is quite pleasing--a work of art. Perhaps, the Man thinks, He will allow Himself a treat. An indulgence.

Perhaps He will fuck the spanked "man," plunging His mighty cock fast, hard, and deep, repeatedly back and forth, within the tight circle of the anus awaiting His pleasure, between the beautiful buttocks which He, with his cane, has, over the past several weeks, patiently created.

