Free Skirt Lifted Vol. 2 by Rodney C. Johnson Page A

curve – almost forgot
herself, and the troubles which awaited downstairs in the parlor.
It wasn't long before Kaela heard her mum get in. Even though she
dreaded finishing her bathing, at last Kaela relented to the
inevitability of her punishment and turned off the water.
    Imagine it? An up and coming, twenty-two
year-old publicist, who frolicked among the jet set from all across
Europe, with celebrities, royalty (Kaela even had the privilege to
meet the Duchess of Cambridge) who continued to get her pert, sexy
little arse caned. And in this instance she thought, for a truly
anserine reason.
    Any of a number of things might get Kaela
caned. Out beyond curfew, drinking too much, a job replete with
many perks often let that particular indulgence become a hazard for
her derriere. Typically neglected chores were an issue. Excesses of
her high class lifestyle, which her occupation almost demanded, as
well as a tendency to behave like a princess earned Kaela a trip
over the chair. This time though the reason had been bloody stupid!
And all her fault too. Kaela should have known better than to
borrow mum's jewelry without permission. The ankle bracelet, which
she'd taken to wear with a posh little black dress, the clasp of it
had broken off during a work event. Mum had been none too pleased
to learn that the fourteen karat chain had been misplaced, even
angrier that Kaela had gone into her belongings without first
asking.
    Needless to say, her impending chastisement
hung over Kaela's head for the whole work week. Canings were
typically done on Friday's to give her the weekend for recovery.
Though, more often than not, she ended up returning to the office
with a tender bottom. Let’s just say, on those days, Kaela found
any excuse she could, in order not to stay at her desk.
    Toweling off, Kaela went to her chest of
drawers, where she selected an off white cotton camisole that clung
onto her washed skin, nipples poked out under the clingy material.
As for underwear, she decided on a pair of simple bikini knickers.
A perfect outfit to be caned in. Kaela smoothed out her camisole,
and went down to the parlor.
     
     
    “You know why you're here young lady.” Said
Kaela's mum Fiona, who gestured at the punishment chair, indicated
Kaela should get into place. A moment’s hesitation, absently Kaela
studied her French manicure nail tips, then, with a reluctant pout,
plodded over to the hellish upholstered antique chair, reached
forward, grabbed hold of the crossbar, her not yet bared rump
squirmed in expectancy of the rattan.
    No time wasted, her mum worked the waistband
of Kaela's white bikini briefs off, down over her hips, where they
bunched at knee level. Target completely exposed, Fiona nudged her
daughter's thighs further apart. The young woman let out a breath
as cool air nipped her private parts. A last adjustment, a push on
the small of her back, Kaela's mum tucked her camisole out of the
way, which revealed the under curve of Kaela's rather impressive
boobs.
    Fiona unhooked the cane, gave it a test
swing.
    Kaela tensed, trembled as the breeze from the
practice swish met her now vulnerable pussy.
    Tap, her mum measured, ready to deliver the
first stroke.
    Ack! What number of strokes was she going to
get? Kaela's mum always had an accelerative policy where it
concerned the quantity of lashes she handed out to her daughter.
That is, when Kaela turned eighteen, the minimum delivered had been
a firm eight, and at nineteen, she got nine. They'd never talked
about the new minimum for twenty-two. If there even were one? God,
Kaela hoped it wouldn't be a full dozen! That would really scathe
her arse.
    Whack!
    Like always, Fiona concentrated the first
stroke on that most delicate spot upon a young woman's posterior
beneath the vagina. Kaela, grunted, and yelped. The rattan raised
fresh welts as it advanced, in an orderly process toward the peak
of Kaela's pert rump.
    Whack! Kaela's generous, womanly ass mounds
wobbled. These were no