We hadn’t planned it as such but it became an intense and very, very strict two-day boot camp.
I might have guessed the severity from the second I lingered too long in bed after being told to get up on New Year’s Eve. I was told to fetch the cane and got a good 12 cuts, face down on the bed.
Over breakfast Mistress told me that for the next two days I would be serving her and that I should be suitably attired in a ‘maid’s outfit’. She also said she wanted to discuss how to progress our regime.
Mistress instructed me to come up with a schedule for the evening, bearing in mind there were several issues outstanding. New Year’s Eve was already allocated at a maintenance punishment day – so that was 36 strokes of the thin Dragon from the outset. Mistress also reminded me there were my faults during our few days away that needed addressing, then there was an issue during shopping earlier in the day.
I went to get changed into a black pvc housecoat under which I wore tight-fitting pvc bloomers. I also wore flat court shoes and ‘regulation’ mop cap in black shiny pvc, edged in white lace. I felt suitably humiliated in such attire.
I washed the breakfast things then prepared the New Year’s Eve agenda which I presented to Mistress as follows:
Maintenance punishment. 36 strokes, thin Dragon
Meal and discuss 2012 regime
Wash-up and tidy kitchen
Punishment for today’s faults. Main one was showing dissent over meal choice in M&S
Continue 2012 regime discussion and discuss my New Year’s Day chores
Punishment for holiday faults – main one was not stopping taking pictures when asked. Also disappointing Mistress in bed – twice!
It was mid-morning and instead of looking at the schedule I presented, Mistress told me to run her a bath. There’s something rather intimately special about helping bathe Mistress and then applying body lotion.
But my joy was short-lived. Mistress said I lingered too long in applying the cream in certain areas. 12 strokes of the cane followed immediately with Mistress still in her dressing gown.
We went shopping and then lunched out. Everything felt back to normal but as soon as we got home I was changed back into the ‘maid’s’ outfit and severity resumed, Mistress quietly issuing commands to do things around the house as I kept her topped up with tea.
Six o’clock came all too soon and by that time I was a bundle of nerves. I prepared out meal and reported to the lounge with the cane for my maintenance punishment. It was 36 as usual but Mistress delivered them in haphazard fashion leaving me almost begging for the next stroke at times.
Over dinner we discussed our 2012 resolutions at length, with long pauses, spent looking across the dinner table at each other, both wondering what the other was thinking. It was a surreal experience, both of us happily discussing quite heavy details about how my attitude could be improved – and what severity of correction might be required if not.
We broke off for Mistress to retire to the lounge while I cleaned the kitchen. Once finished it was time for a lecture about the day’s faults followed by another dose of the cane. 24 this time.
We continued the regime discussion. I made notes and typed the final draft which I presented to Mistress – and which you can see in a previous post. Mistress checked them and then dictated New Year’s Day’s chores. It was a lengthy list of cleaning duties and meal preparation.
The evening finished with more punishment. This time for the numerous faults during our few day’s away. I had no idea how many when Mistress secured me to the bench. Normally I’m caned in 12s with a brief break to recover. We got to 12 and the cane kept falling. The gap between strokes was so quick I didn’t have time to complete the mantra ’12 thank you Mistress’ but merely count the number.
I was suffering. We got to 24 and still no break. My voice had faded to a whisper and I felt my mouth change shape from one of steely determination to my lips curling downwards and beginning to tremble as one does just before tears begin to flow. ‘I can’t cry,’ I told myself but I could feel my shoulders shaking as I continued to whisper, 28, 29, 30.
Mistress reached 36 and stopped. I was released and dropped to my knees beside Mistress who was now stretched out on the couch. My shoulders were still shaking. My breathing was ragged and I had tears in my eyes. But there was no flood as I’d feared. But oh how I wanted to let go and weep – not for the pain but for the sheer joy of being whipped beyond my limit of endurance. This was something I’d wanted to experience ever since becoming aware of my masochistic self. I finally knew just how much I lusted after each terrible stroke that Mistress was so lovingly applying.
It was the first time I’d every experienced such feelings and I just wanted to hug and kiss Mistress and thank her for such care and attention. But Mistress told me to stop whimpering and pushed me away.
I understood. I think both of us were deeply embarrassed by my reaction and didn’t know how to deal with it. We went to bed and just cuddled quietly.
The next morning I was shooed out of bed to prepare breakfast. I didn’t linger this time!
I spent most of the day dusting, hovering, washing floors - and preparing food and cleaning the kitchen after meals. Mistress constantly checked my performance. I loved every minute of my chores. There was no more punishment.
That was just as well. My bottom still bore a mass of swollen welts from the previous day but late in the evening, when I was updating the blog, Mistress came into the computer room and saw the bath brush and tawse out on the side table.
‘Why are these out?’ she asked in a worryingly firm tone.
‘Just in case you needed to use them during the day Mistress,’ I offered.
‘I had no need to punish you today. You were a very good boy and did you chores well. However, as you took it upon yourself to get them out we had best make use of them.
So I went to bed with a burning bottom again. A couple of dozen with the bath brush and triple-tailed tawse meant I went to bed with a burning bottom again.
It was a stinging end to our impromptu boot camp, two days that we hope will set the trend for much better behaviour on my part this year. Two days very well spent.