I used to be able to take the 36, maybe with some moans, but now I’m on the verge of crying each time.
Mistress sat in the chair beside the bench and I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed after the 36 were delivered. So often lately I’m been close to being tipped over the edge of what I can take. I need to know what’s on the other side.
Mistress sat tapping the cane against her leg, waiting, I suspect, for my breathing to settle back to some kind of normality. As I lay there face down, breathing hard, I could smell the delightful aroma of the pvc jacket I still had on. I felt a faint stirring in my loins.
I was very aware my bottom was burning. Not the overall heat you associate with a normal intense beating – but the feeling of a series of red-hot wires laid in a hap-hazard fashion on the buttocks. I’ve never quite experience such a similar feeling. But maybe that’s because I’d not been left for a few seconds for the pain to sink in like this.
Then Mistress got to her feet and started again. I wondered how I could take this next onslaught but with 12 strokes done, it was over and I was released from my bonds.
Mistress was annoyed with herself. There was one stroke, still in a ‘safe area’ but separated from the closely packed other 47. She prides herself on accuracy.
“That’s it for the cane. Put it away……And fetch the bath brush.”
I did so with faint heart. As much as the cane cuts with a stinging pain, I hate the thudding thwack of the bath brush. It’s just sting on sting and there’s normally no recovery period.
I had to kneel over the leather footstool and take a good 36 with it. But if felt like nothing after the thin dragon.
I had to kneel before the sofa Mistress was inclined on. “And why are you being punished extra?”
I recited my faults and looked suitably sorry. Mistress interpreted my look as flippancy.
“You want more I presume? Fetch the tawse.”
In days past I would have argued my case. These days I accept exactly what Mistresss commands.
It’s a three-tailed paddle in triple thickness leather - more than a school-type tawse.
I didn’t really want more but this time I had to kneel on the footstool, which made my bottom cheeks really tight
I received two batches of 12. Again, this is normally a stinging punishment. This time it was a fleabite except two that were delivered near the tops of my thighs on fresh flesh. They stung.
I was ordered to kneel before the sofa again.
“Is that enough now?”
She wasn't really asking.
She wasn't really asking.
“Yes, thank you Mistress.”
Mistress commanded me to look at her. For several seconds she stared into my eyes. I didn’t move a muscle.
“You had better behave the rest of the evening or you will have to get that cane back out.”
“Yes Mistress. Thank you for punishing me Mistress.”
By now my bottom was sore and swollen and I certainly didn’t want to do anything that might earn me another session with that cane.
Postscript: I thought my punishment was over for this evening but I was summons back to the footstool twice. Mistress was very annoyed by the length of time I’ve taken to write this update and gave me 12 more quick-fire strokes with the tawse for not paying enough attention to Mistress’ demands. And then I got 12 for not thinking to offer to make Mistress another cup of tea. That tawse has never been so effective as those two quick fire applications. Thankfully the cane stayed in the cupboard. But there's always Sunday.