TITLE    : The Sarah Owens Story Ch. 03
STORYID  : the-sarah-owens-story-ch-03
SUMMARY  : Sarah takes her first ride on The Carousel.
AUTHOR   : Cal Y. Pygia@lit
DATE     : 2009-11-29
CATEGORY : bdsm-stories
FLAGS    : 
TAGS     : |cheerleader|schoolgirl|spanking|cane|caning|


<i>Note: This series is based upon an idea by Sarah Owens. The characters in it are 18 years old or older.</i>



* * *



Coach Bigg had requested a "demonstration" of The Carousel to which Sarah and her fellow cheerleaders were strapped, each to her own pie-shaped section of the platform that ringed the gigantic spanking machine's central hub, and, at a nod from Dr. Fanner, the scientist's Amazonian assistant, Debbie, pressed the button that started the apparatus in motion.



As the wheel began to rotate, the canes suspended over the naked girls' bottoms quivered to life, and Sarah saw the grimaces of the cheerleaders who were strapped to the platform opposite her. No doubt, they, too, had seen the trembling of the long, thin bamboo canes as the wheel started to turn.



Karen Lewis gasped, her face contorting, as the cane above her struck a savage blow across the teen's sleek, round backside. Next to her, Debbie Penn cried out, the features of her face twisting as the cane above her flicked down, hard, upon her bare bottom. Susan Davis next shrieked as the cane suspended above her swept down, in a whistling arc, to cut into the smooth, firm-soft cushions of her buttocks. Then, Cindy Baxter yelped, as her cane smote her backside. Whoosh! The cane above Jennifer Adams flicked its long, thin tongue across her posterior, and she screamed. Rachelle next cried out, as the can mounted above her station struck her unprotected derriere. Crystal Rogers groaned as the cane over her descended in a vicious arc, igniting a fire in her buttocks. The cane suspended above Becky James swept down in a rushing curve, cutting the flesh of her backside.



Eight of the nine members of the cheerleading squad had been struck a savage blow of the cane; now, as The Carousel continued to turn, it was Sarah's turn to feel the lash.



Mercifully, the machine stopped, before the cane could strike.



"The operator has the ability to increase the force of the stroke, with or without altering the speed of The Carousel's rotation, directing a lash of increased severity to any one individual, or to any number of individuals, on the machine's platform," Dr. Fanner informed Coach Bigg. "Let me demonstrate."



"Please do," the coach encouraged the scientist.



Sarah squealed, louder than any of her friends had screamed, for the cane suspended above her flashed downward at twice the speed with which any of the others had been struck, biting deep into the firm globes of her buttocks, and she felt the pain tremble in her ass cheeks for a moment before the agony really sank into her bottom, and her entire ass felt as if someone had poured molten lava into her anus, filling her bowels with searing heat.



The pain radiated across her buttocks, fiery and painful in the extreme. Tears spilled from her eyes, and she shuddered involuntarily, her buttocks quivering and her thighs flexing like scissors. Could she have seen behind her, she had no doubt but that she'd see a thin red line in her pink flesh, for so savage had been the lash that surely it must have split her skin, leaving a laceration in its wake.



"The pace of the spanking can be increased either by speeding up the lashes of the cane, one or all, or by increasing the rate at which The Carousel itself revolves," Dr. Fanner declared.



"Let's see a demonstration of both features, if you please," Coach Bigg requested.



"Certainly." Dr. Fanner made an adjustment to the controls, and the bamboo canes fell at thrice their initial speed, whipping the poor girls' asses three times in rapid succession, so that their buttocks flattened, rose, flattened, rose, flattened, and rose again, lined with red welts where the cruel cane had fallen.



The flashing canes brought a chorus of miserable shrieks and cries from the recipients of their blows, and not one eye remained dry. The cheerleaders' faces were red and streamed with tears.



Sarah felt humiliated, as if the smarting blows of the cane had reduced her to the status of a mere child. She was sure her friends must feel equally mortified. How could they not, kneeling before three women, completely naked, their bottoms lined with the work of the canes, weeping uncontrollably, their makeup ruined? The girls looked a sight, as Sarah knew she herself must. The garish mask of mascara, eyeliner, eye shadow, blush, and lipstick was a humiliation almost as bad as their nakedness.



Now, the canes paused as Dr. Fanner manipulated the controls again, causing The Carousel to revolve with greater speed, and Sarah and the other girls felt nauseous. The sudden, quick motion was sickening. The canes fell again, each in succession, as the girls spun round on their sections of the spinning platform, the lashes coming fast and furious. Again, the teens made their distress known by their grunts, groans, gasps, moans, and pitiful sobs.



"Capital!" Coach Bigg cried.



The canes slashed both air and flesh, and the scientist let the great wheel complete a full revolution, the cheerleaders screaming and shrieking as the bamboo struck repeatedly, thrashing their bare bottoms. Then, The Carousel stopped, and the canes, for the moment, ceased their impersonal, mechanical punishment of the teens' backsides. The girls' blubbering, however, continued, sounding louder than ever. Their faces were blurs of smeared makeup, mucus, saliva, and tears.



Sarah had lost count of the number of times the supple cane had slashed into her buttocks, but she guessed she'd received more than a dozen strokes, as had her friends. She felt weak and faint, but the fiery pain, flooding her backside anew every few seconds, kept her alert, if not exactly oriented, wishing she could find the temporary respite of unconsciousness.



Someone appeared at her side. She turned her head, and saw the scientist's assistant, Debbie. The Amazonian brunette, breasts wobbling, bent, and Sarah heard something metal slide against something else that was also metal. The assistant had pulled a pin from its socket, freeing the wedge-shaped section of platform upon which Sarah knelt from its mooring, and now the brunette turned the pie-shaped segment of the platform on which Sarah was bound 180 degrees from its original position, so that Sarah's well-caned ass was opposite her friends' teary countenances and she herself faced away from The Carousel, looking into the interior of the squad's storeroom. She could no longer see her friends. She could see only the squad's equipment--mats, megaphones, boxes of pompoms, batons, jump ropes, stunt steppers, training inclines, octagons, handspring trainers--and, occasionally, when one or the other of them strolled into her field of vision, Coach Bigg, Dr. Fanner, or Debbie Johnson.



"Lick her pussy," Coach Bigg told one of the girls.



"No!" Judging by the voice of the protesting girl, the coach had directed her command at Cindy Baxter.



Whoosh! Sarah jumped at the sound of the descending cane, but it was Cindy, not she, who screamed. Cindy's refusal to lick Sarah's cunt had earned the rebellious cheerleader another taste of the bamboo.



"Lick it!" Coach Bigg commanded a second time.



"No!" Poor Cindy cried, but without much conviction.



This time, the cane struck her three savage blows, and Cindy shrieked as if she were being butchered alive. Sarah felt sick to her stomach. She hung her head, felt a rush of warm bile, and puked a torrent of vomit onto the concrete floor.



"Lick Owens' pussy, now!" Coach Bigg barked at Cindy.



Sarah tried to lurch forward as she felt something soft and moist flick her labia. At first, she supposed it was the cane, but, immediately, she understood that the bamboo, had it struck the tender lips of her cunt, would have left her incapacitated with agony. Instead, she'd felt just the tiniest brush of warm-soft-wetness, and, she realized, the next instant, that Cindy had complied with Coach Bigg's order, licking Sarah's pussy.



Sarah had felt the tip of Cindy's moist tongue, tentative and uncertain. The lick, light and brief as it had been, had a most curious effect upon Sarah. The cute blonde cheerleader felt a tremble deep inside her loins, far down inside her pussy. It felt the way she imagined breakers might feel as they crashed, unrolling, upon a distant shore. The waves of passion felt wonderful. Even faint and remote, they were powerful, and the pleasure that they unleashed within her depths made the pain inside her bottom seem to recede, at least for the moment, as the swells of bliss lapped against the folds and tissues of her drenched pussy, the juices of which overflowed her cunt, dribbling, warm and wet, down her inner thighs.



"Lick the bitch's clitoris," Coach Bigg told Cindy, and Sarah felt another brush of her friend's tongue as Cindy obeyed their leader's command, nuzzling the hard bud of Sarah's clit with her lips and tongue. More of the nectar of Sarah's loins overflowed her pussy, and the waves of pleasure rose inside her, swelling, rushing through her as if a tsunami were building, building, building inside her.



"That's enough!" Coach Bigg declared. "The little bitch is enjoying it too much."



Debbie appeared again at Sarah's side, slid the pin free of its socket, and rotated the wedge-shaped section of the platform that she occupied back to its original position, only, this time, instead of looking into Cindy's face, Sarah faced her friend's ass and pussy. Sarah's eyes widened as she saw that Cindy's cunt was as wet as her own. Cindy's labia were wet with the dew of her sex, and the cunt lips glittered in the harsh fluorescent light. Above the crescent curve of Cindy's pussy, the teen's tiny, puckered anus was visible between the smooth, firm-soft mounds of her ass, and Sarah shuddered at the knowledge that she herself had presented a similar view to Cindy only moments ago.



"Lick her asshole, Owens!" Coach Bigg demanded.



Dreading the stroke of the cane, but knowing that, to save face among her friends she'd have to offer at least token resistance to their coach's command that she lick Cindy's anus, Sarah said, "No." She sounded, even to herself, devoid of conviction. Nevertheless, the cane slashed down, against her naked backside, delivering a terribly painful stroke that made a deep furrow in her flattened ass cheeks, and Sarah screamed. The cane struck her again, even more savagely, and she shrieked a second time, feeling tears spilling from her astonished eyes. A third time, the cane bit deep into her flesh, and Sarah, a third time, screeched.



"Lick the little bitch's asshole," Coach Bigg repeated. "Do it now!"



Tears streaming down her face, Sarah stuck her nose into the cleavage of her friend's sleek, smooth ass, feeling the sleek cheeks pressing against her nose and mouth, and, sticking her tongue out, an inch between her lips, she gave Cindy's anus a dainty lick. Sarah expected to taste something unpleasant, but she was surprised (and glad) to taste nothing whatsoever.



"Again!" Coach Bigg demanded. "Harder. Probe her asshole!"



Sarah licked again, slobbering a little, and her saliva dripped down Cindy's cleavage and perineum, past her labia.



"Not like that!" Coach Bigg directed. "Stiffen your tongue; jab it into her asshole!"



Another savage stroke of the cane fell upon Sarah's ass, and she quickly made the tip of her tongue rigid, poking it into the tight circle of Cindy's sphincter, and felt the tip of her oral appendage press through, and into, Cindy's bottom. Again, Sarah expected to taste something nasty, but was glad to have her expectations thwarted. Cindy's rectum was as tasteless as her asshole. 



Cindy moaned, and her pussy released a flood of lubricant that dribbled down her smooth, ivory thighs. Sarah felt her own cunt fill and overflow with her own juices. Was Cindy a lesbian? Sarah wondered. Was she herself a lesbian, too? No, she told herself, no way! She'd been made to lick Cindy' asshole, just as Cindy had been forced to lick Sarah's cunt. Neither of them had performed such a perverted action voluntarily.



No, but you liked it, didn't you? her own thoughts charged her. You enjoyed it.



No, I didn't, Sarah told herself--or started to, but stopped, admitting that, yes, she had enjoyed licking Cindy' asshole and inserting the tip of her tongue into her friend's butt, between the soft, sleek cheeks, and into the void of her friend's bowels. It had been both humiliating and exhilarating. Maybe it had been exhilarating, in fact, because it had been humiliating. Maybe, deep down, Sarah got off by being humiliated. Maybe, somehow, Coach Bigg had known or suspected that Sarah was masochistic and needed to be degraded and disgraced.



"Did you enjoy licking your friend's pussy, Cindy?"



"No, Coach!"



"You sure?"



"Yes, Coach!"



Sarah saw Coach Bigg pat Cindy's bottom gently, with a tenderness of which neither Sarah nor any of the others would have guessed the woman capable. It was a sensitive, compassionate, even loving touch, a sweet and kindhearted caress.



The coach walked around the circle of buttocks to Sarah. "Did you enjoy licking your friend's asshole, Owens?"



"Owens" again, never "Sarah," Sarah thought. Why had the coach singled her out? Why was the coach on her ass? "No, Coach!" she declared.



"Liar!"



The cane suspended above Sarah's station on the platform whistled, cutting the air, as it rushed down to slash her backside, and the teen howled with renewed anguish as the bamboo left another red line in the flesh of her well-caned bottom.



"Did you enjoy licking your friend's asshole, Owens?" Coach Bigg demanded again.



"Yes, Coach," Sarah whispered, fearful of receiving yet another lash of the cane.



"What? I can't hear you!"



"Yes, Coach!" Sarah yelled.



Around the circle, she heard a chorus of giggles and whispers.



Now, the coach gave Sarah the same gentle pat as she'd given Cindy, and, although the coach's touch had been tender, it awakened another wave of pain in Sarah's beleaguered buttocks, and she repressed a cry.



"You may wonder why I asked Dr. Fanner to include all of you in this afternoon's demonstration," the coach said, addressing the squad. "What could you have done to merit a group punishment of this sort? The answer is that none of you did anything to warrant such treatment--none of you, that is, except Owens. Because of her attitude, her sarcastic quips, and her clumsiness in performing even the simplest cheerleading feats--" Sarah thought of the petroleum jelly on the mat that had caused her to slip and fall while she'd attempted the toe-touch--"you have all been punished, as you shall all be punished again, any time any one of you develops an attitude or otherwise screws up. You can thank your friend and fellow cheerleader, Owens, for your glowing asses and the pain in your butts."



As Coach Bigg finished her lecture, Dr. Fanner and Debbie released the teens, and they dressed as quickly as they could, their pain notwithstanding, and hobbled and wobbled from the storeroom. Although Sarah dressed alongside them and limped from the storage facility with them, none of the other teens paid her a moment's notice. It was as if she didn't exist.



Finally, as they were about to part ways at the edge of the campus, Cindy turned to Sarah. Tears of pain and humiliation still in her eyes, Cindy said, "Thanks a lot, Owens!"



Now, even her friends were calling her by her last name, Sarah thought. Correction, she told herself, her former friends were. Sarah didn't have any friends anymore, it seemed. Coach Bigg had made her a total outcast.



Sarah winced as she turned toward home, the fiery pain in her ass rekindling with each movement she made. She could hardly walk, but she had to hurry home. If she were late, her dad would tan her hide good, and she couldn't stand another lick, whether of his hand, a paddle, or a belt.



Besides, she thought, it wouldn't do to let him or her mom know about the caning that she and her friends had received this evening, courtesy of Coach Bigg and The Carousel, not if she and the other girls wanted to win the Nationals this year, the last year most of them would be students at South Catholic High School. 

