‘This’ll test you,’ he said. ‘But let’s have you over my knee for it.’
He pulled out the desk chair and made Trix take her place on his lap. She protested at first, but he drove her onward with several smart smacks of the paddle and she soon complied, though not without many a cry of pain.
The sight of her draped over his powerful thighs was quite mouthwatering and I shifted in my seat, gorging on the scene. Her red, shiny buttocks were raised high and the Captain lowered his head for a good long look at them before getting to work with the paddle.
I flicked my eyes down the row to Trix, who was leaning forward in her seat, her eyes shining.
Rosie and Dimitri, I noticed, were snogging drunkenly, each with one eye on the screen. It was working for them. Was it working for Jasper?
His fingers hovered over the keyboard. He looked absolutely intent on the action, but it was not clear whether his interest was professional or perverse. Probably both.
I touched his hand, lightly, and he turned to offer me a brief smile, but then focused again on the screen.
The Captain paddled Trix with a will. I knew from experience that those wooden bastards weren’t easy to take, but her experience stood her in good stead and, though she cried out a good deal, it was clear that she hadn’t reached her limits. Her gasping and struggling were more arousing to me than the smack–smack–smack of the paddle and the worsening condition of her bottom. Our favourite role plays usually involved non-consensual scenarios and this one was so well performed that it made me feel as if I were participating myself.
‘Not broken yet?’ cried the pirate captain, throwing aside the paddle. ‘By God, you’re a feisty one. But I’ll have you begging me for mercy yet.’
The thought that Trix was in for yet more of this treatment almost made me want to march into shot and tell the Captain how unreasonable he was being. Mainly because it would probably earn me a spanking at his rather glamorous hand.
Preece stepped forward and dragged Trix off the Captain’s lap. He bent her over the desk again and, rather to my surprise, began rubbing some kind of ointment into her buttocks. Trix’s moans of pleasure were very convincing indeed.
‘Think he’s doing it out of kindness, do yer?’
The Captain’s tone was mocking and, when I looked at him, I saw that he was selecting a crook-handled cane from a variety of weapons hanging on the wall.
‘I’m going to give you a taste of something I experienced at school,’ he continued. ‘Yes, it might surprise you to know that I went to one of the best public schools in England. Didn’t learn a thing, mind you, except how to avoid getting under one of these.’ He swished the cane through the air. ‘Believe you me, it stings like the devil. And you’re going to feel it. Leave her be now, Preece.’
Preece stepped back. A close-up of Trix’s bottom revealed it as gleaming with the greasy ointment, though the bright redness conferred by her earlier punishments remained.
‘Now,’ said the Captain, lining up the rod across her cheeks. ‘I wonder how many strokes it’ll take. What’s your bet, Preece?’
‘Three,’ hazarded the sailor.
‘Oh, more than that, I hope,’ said the Captain. ‘Go to the other side of the desk and hold her hands. I want her kept down. No dancing or leaping about. I don’t want any of my strokes to land badly.’
‘Yes, Captain.’
Preece took up his post, gripping Trix’s wrists tightly.
She stared down into the wood, perfectly positioned.
I held my breath for her.
The first stroke whipped down and she howled. I was greedy to see its effect, to watch the dark line rise against her glowing skin. This was always my favourite part of the private films Jasper and I made. It was more pleasurable to watch than to feel, if I was honest.
‘That’s more like it, eh, wench?’ said the Captain smugly. ‘Now we’re on to serious business. How many more of those before you’re ready to play nicely?’
‘Go to hell,’ she managed to say.
The second stroke followed swiftly.
I flinched at each one, but at the same time my clit seemed to swell a little. I could feel it pressing against the material of my knickers. I wanted to wriggle, to increase the pressure, but I sensed that Jasper might disapprove. And besides, we were not alone. So I had to endure my increasing arousal without relief.
‘What’s the highest number of strokes you’ve taken in any one session?’ asked Jasper of Trix, his voice thickened in a way I recognised.
‘Forty-two,’ she said. ‘A double caning – one top either side of my bottom.’ She almost purred in reminiscence. ‘I’m always looking for a chance to go further.’
‘I’m surprised the marks even show any more,’ said Jasper.