Victoria is left to reflect

Victoria’s mind was a whirl. She lay on her bed, reliving the moments of her caning. Images flowed through her mind. Her body bent over the bed, naked from the waist down. The whistling of the cane and then the impact of it landing on her bare cheeks; the sudden burning pain. Her tutor standing over her, strong, confident, talking to her, helping her, encouraging her. His cool hands helping her, lifting her onto her bed; the smell of him, a strong masculine smell. Her fingers traced the marks left by the cane across her bottom, thin red lines, still sore to the touch. She felt confused. Her body felt different, tingling, and almost alive after the caning. The picture of the tutor, tall, cool, confident, standing over her, caning her, her naked buttocks lifted up, presented to him was too vivid; her fingers moved lower pressing between her legs. She gasped as she found herself already damp. Her fingers were busy as she counted each stroke in her mind, her other hand touching each mark in turn as she remembered it landing. Suddenly her body was bathed in warmth, and she was gasping for breath, moaning softly to herself, one fingered buried as far as the knuckle in her tight little groove between her legs. Gradually the orgasm died away, leaving her with a feeling of calmness and well-being, and she drifted off to sleep, her hand still buried between her legs.