I wasn’t wrong in my assumption that we hadn’t finished with the cane for the weekend.
Sunday was an interesting day. Mistress and I enjoyed a pleasant few hours in the city. Driving there Mistress wanted to discuss our DD regime. Between ducking in and out of shops, she discussion carried on over breakfast, and again over afternoon tea and told me that she still wasn’t happy with my continued ‘negative attitude about everything.’
I had made a comment about one shop we were in which Mistress construed to be negative. I got a lecture there and then about my behaviour and how Mistress felt embarrassed by my negative comments when we were in shops.
She suggested I keep my mouth shut unless I had something positive to say. It was pretty obvious what my fate would be later.
It was a nerve-wracking day, not wanting to step out of line, trying to remember one’s place but that’s what made it so interesting and I could tell Mistress was really relishing the authoritarian attitude she was carrying off rather spectacularly well.
Sure enough as I drove the car into the drive back home she said gleefully, “Oh look, the neighbours are out, we don’t need to worry about the noise, do we?”
As soon as we got inside the door Mistress told me to get myself changed and bring a selection of canes to the punishment room. I was secured over the bench and the caning started. First was the crooked-handled cane and 12 strokes. Normally I can take four before I start to struggle with as the pain builds. With some serious resolve I managed to get to six before starting to moan but boy was she laying it on today compared to the previous day’s session.
Then she picked the short, but thick koboo cane. Normally it’s quite a thuddy, dead feeling but these were hard strokes and stinging like mad.
Then Mistress said, “I’m giving you 12 more, in quick succession. I suggest you prepare yourself. There’s nothing really to do but hang on tight and take the pain. Even though I’m secured I can feel my hips and bottom cheeks dancing around under those rapid strokes. You start by trying to count the strokes but by three you can’t keep up and then it’s a case of hanging on to the end of the dozen. Imagine 24 or 36 like that. Well I can’t really. I’d probably lose control completely.
Suddenly it was all over and Mistress put the tip of the thin Dragon under my nose. There was blood on it. She said: “That’s a shame isn’t it? We’ve broken the skin. Now I’ll have to stop.”
It was only a tiny graze but Mistress doesn’t like to draw blood.
“But I think you’ve learned now that this negative attitude of your really does have to stop. And you had better beware I am going to keep correcting you until you start to have a more positive outlook.”