Seven Scarlet Tales

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Poppy obliged, and was duly impressed at the angry crimson flush covering Emma’s rounded cheeks down to mid-thigh. The cane welts were swelling up in the midst of the redness, darker than they had been before.

It must be agony, thought Poppy, and she rubbed her thighs together a little, feeling the dampness at their apex.

‘What do you think? Has she had enough?’

‘Yes, yes, I think so,’ said Poppy.

‘You’re soft-hearted, aren’t you, love? You couldn’t do my job. When you’re in charge of a gaff like this, with sly little sluts like Emma on your books, you have to be tough. It’s dog-eat-dog, this game.’

‘Oh. Is it?’ Poppy, way out of her depth, simply nodded sympathetically.

‘You have to understand that girls like Emma need to be reined in. They need reminding. Hard. And often.’ Allyson accompanied these words with driving swats that flattened Emma’s red buttocks. ‘You’ll notice that she hasn’t even yelled out yet.’

‘I know. I would have.’

Allyson turned and smiled indulgently.

‘Would you? Yeah, I’ll bet. So look, Poppy, I’m going to offer you a choice here.’

‘A choice?’ Poppy swallowed. Something in Allyson’s eyes was too rapt, too rapacious, for comfort.

‘Yeah.’

Allyson put down the paddle and picked up the purple cane. She held it out to Poppy.

‘You can give Emma six with this, and you’ll have to make it hard. Or you can take them yourself.’

Oh God, oh God. If she’d picked any other implement, the choice would have been clear and easy. She’d have stood in for Emma like a shot. But the cane …

She looked again at Emma’s bottom. She wanted to touch it, to feel the evidence of her suffering, so that she could make a properly informed choice. She wanted to ask Emma what she thought. But of course, Emma was in no state to express an opinion.

So she took the cane and ran her fingers along it. Then she bent it. It was made of some indestructible, shatter-proof material that would fall like a thin brand on the skin.

She couldn’t use it on Emma. She couldn’t use it on anyone.

‘I can’t cane Emma,’ she said quietly. ‘I can’t, when it’s me who …’

Allyson nodded.

‘Brave girl,’ she said, and she rubbed her shoulder with awkward approbation. ‘And I think you need this. If you’re going to be one of us.’

Poppy raised her eyes to Allyson. That hard face, that professional-bitch attitude. Did she want to be one of them? She wasn’t sure about that, but she did want to bend to Allyson’s will, to feel the punishment she had earned. Allyson was strong, and strong people made her feel safe, no matter what dodgy business they might be tangled up in.

‘Everything’ll be all right, love, once you’ve got your stripes,’ Allyson said.

She smacked Emma’s bum loudly.

‘Down you get,’ she ordered.

Emma clambered stiffly off the desk and stood on the carpet, head down, looking as if she wanted to hide the ball gag from sight. Her leather hotpants were still around her ankles.

‘Get in the corner, slut, now.’

Emma shuffled to the corner she had occupied before, and stayed there.

Poppy couldn’t have told anything from her face. She didn’t look distraught, nor did she look happy. She was a perfect blank. Had she learned that? Did Allyson insist upon it?