Chapter 11: The Agony of Choice

Candy carefully locked the front door, the last flickers of daylight gone as October’s evening chill settled over the quiet streets outside. As she turned back into the store, her eyes drifted to the slate. The total had risen to twenty-seven, courtesy of a few last-minute presales, each chalk line increasing the knot of anticipation in her belly.

She moved through the closing tasks in silence, her attention split between tidying up and the mounting anticipation of her impending discipline. Finally, Nick took her hand, his grip warm and firm, guiding her through the door and into the kitchen.

The shop was hushed, enveloped in the cool darkness of the late October night. Candy felt her pulse quicken as she slipped out of her jeans, her awareness heightened by the subtle, earthy scent of her own arousal mixing with the lingering sweetness of fudge and candy on her skin from hours spent behind the counter.

As she slid her jeans down, the rough denim grazed against her bare, sensitive skin, sending a wince through her as it brushed over the welts and bruises he had given her that morning. Nick watched her intently, his expression a mix of desire and authority.

He ran his hands over her body, exploring and teasing. His fingers traced her curves, his palms pressing against her breast, kneading, then squeezing. A sharp slap rang out as Nick swatted her tender abused bottom. She gasped, bruised flesh, protesting the impact even as a fresh trickle of arousal slipped down her inner thigh.

The pain made her dizzy and she whimpered, her legs threatening to buckle. That had only been his hand. She shuddered at the thought of how much worse her caning would be.

Nick lifted her arms helping her out of the turtleneck, his touch on her soft skin, trailing down her neck, across her chest, teasing the outer edges of her breasts. “You’ve got amazing tits,” he murmured, his touch lingering.

“Thank you, Sir,” Candy breathed, a blush staining her cheeks. She was hyper-aware of her nudity, her breasts swaying gently with each breath.

Nick’s gaze traveled down her body, settling on her pussy, and she felt a tightness coiling within her. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice a low murmur.

Candy swallowed. “Yes, Sir?”

“You’ve been very good today, even with all your slips.”

“Th-thank you, Sir,” she stammered, her stomach twisting in response.

Nick walked over to the range, retrieving the wooden spoon. A knot of anxiety twisted tighter in her stomach. He was going to cane her with it.

“I’ve decided,” he said, turning to her, “to let you choose.”

“Ch-choose?”

He nodded, giving the spoon a sharp crack that sliced through the air, its sound splitting the space between them. “Your punishment. Where you’ll receive it. Tits or ass?”

Candy felt her mouth go dry at the impossible choice. The spoon would carve into the soft flesh of her tits, leaving her a red, sobbing mess, but her ass was already bruised and tender—pain layered on pain. She recalled the feel of Nick’s hand slapping her ass only moments ago, and she bit back a groan. The spoon’s bite would be worse. Far worse.

“Well?” Nick was watching her, his gaze expectant.

“My ... my tits, Sir,” she whispered, the words barely escaping her lips.

Nick raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise flickering across his face.

Candy inhaled deeply, summoning her courage. “Please cane my tits, Sir,” she added softly.

“Very well,” he replied, a grin creeping across his lips. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a spool of black-and-orange Halloween ribbon. He took a length and extended his hand toward her, guiding Candy to the edge of the table.

With his help, she lifted herself onto the cool surface, wincing slightly as her tender bottom made contact with the wood. Nick leaned over, wrapping the ribbon around her wrist, his fingers brushing lightly against her skin. Each loop he tied was snug, securing her wrist to the table leg with a deliberate firmness. His movements were methodical, unhurried, and when she tested the ribbon, tugging against it, she felt the slight bite as it tightened on her wrists.

He moved down the table, pulling her legs apart and binding her ankles to the two remaining legs, ensuring she was securely tied down.

She was face up, her pussy completely exposed. With a shudder, she tested the bonds, squirming, her muscles tensing, tugging, as she realized that despite her struggling, she was trapped. She could hear him moving around the room, the sound of his footsteps circling the table.

When the spoon cut sliced through the air and cracked against her breasts, she wasn’t ready. The sharp blow cut into her, and Candy cried out, instinctively trying to curl up. But unable to avoid the next blow, which struck her squarely on the nipple of her right breast.