Sunday, 29 November 2015

Dawn caning and the threat of being mentored

Following a rare dose of the cane two weeks ago, nothing much happened on our FLR front. My Court case was looming but each time I mentioned it, Mistress either just pointed out she didn’t think I’d cope, or changed the subject.

I reached crisis point a few days before I was due to appear before the Court. I was nervous of the whole thing, understandably I think since I was to appear before people I didn’t even know. And I just felt that Mistress didn’t really want me to do it – despite he assurances from her to the contrary.

When we had snuggled up in bed on Thursday night, I told Mistress I’d cancelled my appointment at the Court. She was instantly fuming. “Your appointment was Sunday. Three days before you are to be in Court and you cancel?

I’d never seen her so angry in a long time.

“We agreed from the outset you would go to the Court for punishment and hopefully become more submissive. It was meant to be a real punishment you could not escape from.”

“But Mistress, when I explained about my Court punishment you were adamant I’d not cope – and I got the impression you didn’t like the idea of me going,” I feebly argued.

“You wouldn’t cope and that’s the point. You seem to think punishment is something you can play around with to suit you. You need to learn it is not and as you won’t take it from me, you need to someone who can control you.”

The Judicial Court I was to have attended was an all-male corporal punishment event in the North of England. I’d read about it just after Mistress admitted that with all her other work-related stress of the moment, she was struggling to cope with the emotions of trying to overcome my resistance to her discipline.

She had said she wanted me disciplined just the same though and had told me to arrange an appointment with a professional. When I related details of the Court, she thought it would be humbling for me to be sentenced and punished in front of the other ‘offenders’.

However, I felt that after our initial discussion, I felt she had gone cold on the idea and when she seemed non-plussed at my sentence (72 strokes in total with various canes and straps), I took that as an indication I’d best not go.

My underlying worry was that by going it would in some way have an adverse effect on our relationship.

Mistress continued: “At no time did I say I didn’t want you to go. How dare you try to put the blame on me! I’ve said all along that I thought you might learn something by going and come back with a bit more respect. You’ve deserved a good thrashing for some time.”

“The reality is that you knew you wouldn’t be able to take the kind of beating you had been sentenced to and just opted out as usual. You are just a wimp.”

The truth struck home like a knife plunged into my heart. It was true. I was scared and the closer it came to punishment day the more nervous I’d become and talked myself into several reasons why I shouldn’t go, the prime one being Mistress’ apparent lack of interest in my fate. I was truthfully worried about the effect on the relationship, but there was an underlying reason to cancel and Mistress was spot-on, it was that the thought of the reality of a severe caning far outweighed the excitement of the courtroom fantasy.

Mistress turned over to go to sleep. I lay there for what seemed like hours thinking what a dolt I’d been – again.

When I awoke Mistress was already awake. “Go and get the cane.” Was all she said.


“Don’t you dare question me. Go and get the cane now – the Dragon cane.”

I was taken aback by her mood and did as I was told.

Mistress was out of bed in her dressing gown and looking very grim-faced as I stood, naked and shivering, partly with the sudden rush of cold after being under the nice warm duvet, partly though fear.
I held out the cane, which snatched from me. “Face down on the bed.”

No sooner had I got into position than the cane lashed across my bottom. I received no gentle warm up. I didn’t deserve one. The strokes were brutal from the outset. Batches of 12 at a time – followed by a brief few seconds respite.

I think I had four batches when she told me to bed over the edge of the bed. “I can’t hit you hard enough at that angle,” she said of my position laying flat on the bed.

I got two more batches of 12, much harder as she’d promised, yet somehow I managed to keep my breathing steady and never uttered a groan.

Form the outset I was in some kind of serene place the pain of each stroke was dreadful but somehow I just soaked it up and found myself pushing my bottom up to receive another. I certainly wasn’t enjoying my thrashing but somehow I was relishing it. I can’t understand my psyche at the best of times but I’m baffled by this experience.

One theory I have is that I’ve known for some time that I had this coming to me and I was trying to blot out all other influences and just absorb every searing stroke. That’s the feeling I had from the outset, ‘please hurt me.’ I truly wanted to suffer.

Thinking about it later, I came up with another theory which was perhaps I wanted to prove to her I could cope with a heavy thrashing?

When Mistress stopped caning me I thought it was all over but she said: “I think we need the thin Dragon cane now. I know how much you hate it. It has a lot more bite than this thick cane.”

She went to fetch is as I lay there with my bottom burning – and dreading what was next. Within a few seconds the whippy cane was lashing me, two sets of 12 applied with such vigour and at such a fast tempo that I held my breath until each batch was finished. Yet again I didn’t murmur and just focused on the intense stinging pain. I surprised myself.

I’d like to relate that after the punishment was completed I had learned my lesson and I behaved impeccably all day. But about two hours later something happened while we were out shopping that quite shocked me.

Mistress stopped in the middle of the town and said, “You haven’t learned a thing have you?”

I was bemused

“You say you want a Female Led Relationship. You say you want to be treated as a submissive. And you want to show me respect. Why then did you cross the road without me and then walk on the inside of the pavement when we got to the other side? How many times have I told you that it’s your responsibility to look out for your Mistress at all times - and you walk on the side of the pavement closest to the traffic? How can you be so stupid to forget, even the basics, after what happened this morning?”

“I’m sorry Mistress.” I felt my face redden as other people passed us by.

“You don’t ever learn do you? You don’t have the faintest idea about respect or being a good submissive.”

“No Mistress. Sorry Mistress.”

With a shake of her head, Mistress carried on walking and I quickly ran around her to make sure I was on the outside of the path.

She continued: “Caning itself obviously teaches you nothing so this is what we are going to do. We are going to take advice from an expert in Female Led Relationships and you are going to learn how to become a good submissive.”

She stopped walking again.

“So I am tasking you to make some enquires. As you are surfing this kind of information all the time, I want you to find us a mentor who we can visit and discuss our issues with.”

Really? Mistress has always kept herself to herself. She’s never surfed the net for FLR information. 
She’s never wanted to go to any Fem Domme events – or meet other couples. She’s been happy just to dominate me. So you can imagine my surprise at her decision.

“I want options,” she continued. “I want to know what kind of services they offer, how much it will cost and how quickly we can set up an appointment. Is that clear?

“Yes Mistress.”

“We are going to sort this mess out. I’m determined that you are going to live the regime that I want.”

With that, the issue was closed. We carried on into the town, had a delightful breakfast and did the shopping as if nothing had happened. But all the time I had a nagging feeling that this morning might become a defining moment in our FLR. I can’t say I’m looking forward to being mentored by another strict Lady.  

Tuesday, 17 November 2015

Mistress picks up the cane

During a long weekend away Mistress decided to reacquaint me with the delights of the cane.

For many years now Mistress has always expected me to pack one of our canes in a suitcase for our holiday’s and, even though we’d not been embracing our FLR for some time, the habit of carefully bending a length of rattan to conceal it in the bottom of a suitcase, wasn’t something I’d overlooked when I packed the cases this time.

When we arrived at the hotel, Mistress was delighted to spot the red handle of the thickest kooboo cane in our collection.

“Its just as well you brought that isn’t it? The way you’ve been behaving just lately, I think it’s time you learned a few lessons. Clothes off and lie over the end of the bend.”

So, within a few brief minutes of arriving at the hotel, my bottom was being striped with the rhythmic thwack of the meaty cane. Twelve quick, hard strokes had me squirming around the bed, my bottom reddened, a deeply intense stinging burn lingering several minutes well after the strokes had been applied. 

I wondered to myself what all the fuss was about on my behalf in pushing Mistress away from being so dominant what seemed like months ago? Being caned wasn’t so terrible. In fact, it was a rather luxurious, bitter-sweet sensation to be under Mistress spell after so long.

The lecture that followed wasn’t so comforting. “With nothing to distract us, we can take the time to remind you of your place and your responsibilities,” she told me with the kind of steely stare that I’d not seen in many months.

I suppose this change in persona had been precipitated by several recent discussions regarding our FLR. After many months of a vanilla lifestyle, I had been keen to reinstate our old regime. But Mistress didn’t seem interested in the up and down rollercoaster of life with a sometime submissive. We had discussed my ‘need’ for occasional discipline and Mistress ventured I should seek a disciplinarian.

I’d been that route in my previous relationship so knew the pitfalls, as well as the positives, and felt that it would be much more beneficial for Mistress to discipline me. But she wasn’t keen and I can’t say I could blame her, given my past history of refusing to accept her authority when it didn’t suit me to play to her rules.

When she insisted I seek help, I relented and, for once, did as I was told. I knew I needed real discipline and quite by chance found a group just establishing a judicial punishment event and made enquiries.
It’s a male only event, which suits me. There would be no hint of intimacy, there would be some degree of severity and there would be no ‘bratting.’  It sounded like it would be a serious event, which was exactly what I needed.

But why an event and not a one-on-one meeting? Honestly? I felt an event would add to the humiliation of my punishment, and that I would have no option to seek any mercy in front of a group, where in a one-on-one, I might be able to solicit a lesser punishment when faced with real severity.

I was required to make a confession to the Court but before submitting anything I discussed it in detail with Mistress, who then dictated a covering letter, to add to my own damning confession.

Before I received sentence from the court, Mistress and I went on our long weekend break and, it seems, with corporal punishment on her mind.

Suffice to say, after three days away my bottom was well and truly stripped and swollen. I had several 12-stroke sessions and a few sixers, and quite enjoyed the entire experience. Whether I’ll feel the same getting all the strokes in one drawn out punishment is another matter but for now I’ll just enjoy having Mistress back.

But when we returned home that Judicial Punishment Court summons was waiting for me. I’m not sure where I stand now. My official summons from the court makes no bones that I’m to suffer a very severe punishment. It’s quite scary to contemplate what I’m facing. But if Mistress is now dealing with my discipline I wonder if she sees the need in me attending the Court, preferring instead to discipline me in her own inimitable way?

Wednesday, 8 April 2015

CP training in progress

My bottom cheeks are mass of knotty ridges. Not sore, but quite bruised and lined with twin-track cane marks. Its two days since Mistress let loose with the cane – all part of my ‘retraining.’

It’s not worked out quite how I expected. It’s not the full boot camp we discussed and Mistress hasn’t insisted on things like uniform each day, me keeping a diary, or even adhering to the most basic of rules but there is an under-current of tension in our relationship. It’s the kind of tension that tells me to mind my step, do as I’m told and make sure I show respect at all times. Something our relationship has been lacking and I think we’re both happy to have back in place.

We’ve quickly reached that stage of ‘awareness’ thanks to some intensive moments. Mistress, if you recall, was tired of my lack of willingness to bow to her authority or take punishment. So we embarked on this re-training programme, which kicked off with me getting the cane, just to remind me of how discipline will be maintained. The difference now is Mistress had done away with restraints and will punish me as and when she sees fit.

She’s seen fit to do so quite a lot in the past few days. Initially I found it impossible to take the cane without losing my position over the waist-high ladder. We used to use this all the time but as punishment got ever more severe, I couldn’t hold my place so we adapted two different height stools that I could be secured over.

Mistress wanted to instill more self-discipline in me so now it’s over the ladder and hold on best I can.
We were away during the weekend but Mistress insisted on us taking the Loopy Johnny to maintain discipline all weekend.  It’s a neat little whip, with three thin loops of rubber, which creates very little noise so can be vigorously used in hotel rooms. It could be if the sorry recipient, ie me, could maintain any kind of composure. I felt the Loopy Johnny many times over our weekend break. Mistress wasn’t giving me any leeway. When used vigourously, it can evoke a burning stinging sensation.

Monday night we were back home and I received a memorable thrashing with the cane. Thankfully, we’ve not progressed to the thin Dragon yet, initial training is helped along with copious use of the crook-handled school cane – which still has a very effective thuddy sting.

We had agreed on a tariff of 12 strokes in any one punishment, with extras for moving or creating too much of a fuss. But Mistress was clearly displeased with me and told me I was to be punished for a lack of respect and not doing what I was told quickly enough.

I had no redress with the decision and bent over with some degree of confidence I could take the 12. Only it wasn’t 12. Mistress carried on to 18 – and then 24. By 18 I was losing grip and standing bolt upright, delaying each stroke while trying to regain composure.

When we reached 24 Mistress said, “Right, I’m going to give you three more and if you stay in position, you can get up.”

I recall groaning and gripping tight. Mistress unleashed the most incredible cane shots I’ve ever had and on the third, I lost grip.

“Three more,” she said.

Again, I lost grip. By now I was blubbering and wimpering like a child.

“If you think it’s that funny we can carry on all night boy,” she said.

“I’m not laughing Mistress. I’m crying.”

She bent down to look at my face and could see the tears I was squeezing from my tightly shut eyes at each stroke.

“It’s surely the easiest thing in the world to hang on to that bottom bar for three little strokes?” she asked, mocking my plight.

She was right of course. But each time the pain was beating down my fortitude to hang on. Three more. I held on but she spotted my finger and thumb relax and let go.

“Oh dear, three more,” she said.

The same happened again. But finally I manage to hold on and Mistress allowed me to get up.
She ordered me to kneel before her and said: “You have yourself to blame for that. If you’d done as you were told it would have been all over after 24. You had better get used to holding on tight, hadn’t you boy?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Better still you could improve your behaviour so we don’t need to use the cane anymore. But with your appalling behaviour I think that’s very unlikely, don’t you?”

“No Mistress.”

Thursday, 2 April 2015

DD training underway

“We need to discuss discipline,” said Mistress, whispering in my ear as we lie in bed the other night.

“I know. I’m becoming obsessed by the thought of corporal punishment. The fantasy of it is always on my mind yet I’m frightened by the reality,” I admitted.

“It’s time we implemented that training programme we discussed,” she said.

My stomach churned, but I found myself saying, “I’d like that please Mistress.”

Mistress rolled over and went to sleep. Needless to say, I didn’t, wondering what her next move would be.

The next evening I came home from work and was met at the door. Immediately I knew what was coming.

“I want you to go up upstairs, get changed and bring me the cane,” said Mistress.

“Do I need restraints Mistress?” I asked humbly.

“You know the new rules,” she said and waved me away.

The new rules of course were that there would be no restraints. Remaining in place for punishment without restraints was intended as a way of teaching me self discipline. I was hoping I could take our early re-training tariff of no more than 12 strokes without too much fuss.

Why only 12? When we discussed why I’d lost the ability to take the heavier punishments – normally 36 strokes – I explained to Mistress that I suffered a fit of panic early on in a punishment, knowing I’d not take the full amount without a fuss.

She decided that to re-train me properly, we’d start at a maximum of 12 in any one batch – like we did all those years ago. But there could be an unlimited number of  batches of 12 in any one day. I’d not escaped severe punishment.

Upstairs I put on my punishment pants and took the crook-handled cane from the cupboard, then presented myself to Mistress in the living room. The ladder I would soon have to bend over was already in place.

There was little dialogue. Mistress took the cane from me and then used it as a pointer to motion me to bend over the ladder. My ankles were pinioned on the inside of a rail at the bottom of the ladder. I had to grip the bottom run of the other side.

Mistress peeled down my plastic pants and within seconds I felt the familiar tapping of thin rattan on my bared bottom, followed by a whoosh and an intense sting.

The pain of the cane is something I’ve never got used to and it’s always a shock how much it stings. She gave me six and stopped.

“Take a deep breath,” she said. “Six fast ones.”

I broke the rules when I let go of the bottom rail after four of them and stood upright while she finished the final two.

“Back over for six more.”

I groaned but bent back over, fearing I’d incur even more if not. The final six were delivered at a more time-honoured steady pace. I honestly think she was lenient with the final six, which allowed me to maintain my composure.

“You deserve more,” Mistress said, “but that will do for now. I think it’s safe for you to assume that this is the start of our new DD regime. You can go and make my dinner now.”