Friday, 23 November 2012

Feeling like a punished schoolboy

Do you suffer the same degree of pain from similar punishment sessions or is each time different?
Are you strong sometimes and not others?

Do you always have the same submissive feelings when you submit to your dominant partner?

Does it feel really real when your partners points out the errors of your ways?

I pose these questions because today’s 36-stroke maintenance caning had a different dynamic from any other but at first there seemed no specific reason why.

Today I genuinely felt like I had some inkling of what it must have been like to have been caned by the headmaster/mistress – or a prefect at school. The caning I'd longed to experience but never did. I’ve often fantasised about what the experience would have been like had I faced such consequences back then – but I’ve long accepted I’ll never discover those feelings. Or have I come close to that reality?

Tonight, while I was bent over the bench, it suddenly occurred to me that this is what it really must be like when that cane thwacks against your schoolboy bottom and leaves that searing, burning sting.

I’ve been caned hundreds of times as an adult but never even linked it to a schoolboy connection so once my punishment was over I tried desperately to understand what triggered those faults.

I think it started with my initial lecture. Maintenance had been postponed from Thursday because Mistress was out with friends.

We both happened to be at home today and I was working from our little office upstairs but I half expected Mistress would deal with me later this evening.

I vaguely heard Mistress call but was finishing off some work and ignored her.

That was my big mistake. The next thing I became aware of was Mistress towering over me, telling me to stand up.

We stood face to face, inches apart. “You ignored me calling. I should not have to come upstairs to you. It is your place to come to me. You are a very naughty boy.”

I could feel and smell Mistress’ sweet, warm breath as she stood berating me. When you are that close and your eyes are transfixed on each other, there’s an incredible bond. It’s normally the split second before a loving embrace. But this was the dominant partner is putting her submissive in his place.

“Yes Mistress,” was about the best I could offer in response.

“I’m not happy with you. There was the car park incident yesterday too.”

I was leaving a car park when someone began reversing out into my right of way. Mistress shouted at me to watch out. Instead of thanking her for her keen observation, I got angry that I’d not spotted the car first, got very offish with Mistress and shouted back.

“Your attitude was appalling yesterday. I wish I had been home in the evening, I would have thrashed you. You are such a naughty boy. I want you to prepare yourself for punishment.”

I scurried off as ordered and was duly caned over the bench. 12 strokes in, Mistress stopped and left the room. I’ve no idea what she was dealing with, but she was gone for a minute or so. 12 more strokes and she left the room again. By now, as you can imagine, my bottom was on fire.

It was this during this break – several minutes this time - when I started wondering about how I’d have felt bending over in the head’s office and waiting when he or she dealt with some other matter. I imagined the nervous tension. In fact I didn’t need to imagine – I was feeling it.

I desperately wanted my punishment over, no matter how much it hurt. Just being bent over, my bottom stinging, throbbing and feeling very swollen seemed to amplify my suffering and set my nerves jangling. I knew what was still to come.

And I think this was the parallel. At school – or within an old judicial system – you would have no choice but to accept your punishment. And here was I, an adult male, well into his 50s, with no choice but to remain bent over this bench and await Mistress’ pleasure. I finally knew – I convinced myself – how I would have felt being told to report to the head.

My reverie was broken when Mistress returned. I knew she still had the cane in her hand, there was that dry clatter of rattan as she caught it on the door coming into the room.

Moments later the sound was one of a short, sharp swish and that cane bit into my bottom again. I took my last 12. They seemed even harder than the first 24.

Mistress released my wrists and left the room. I picked up the cane and returned it to the wardrobe upstairs and returned to my work.

Maybe five minutes had passed. I was called back downstairs.

Mistress was waiting at the foot of the stairs. Again she stood inches from me. I could tell by the look she was far from happy. “Did I tell you to put the cane away? Did I say I had finished with you?”

She wasn’t shouting but she was angry. I could see her lips twitching as she tried to control herself.
“No Mistress but…..”

“But nothing. You have had maintenance. There is the small matter of the car park and ignoring me earlier. Extras! Go and fetch the leather paddle.”

We have two. One spoon-shaped, one like a short three-tailed tawse. I got both.

I rushed back downstairs. Mistress chose the spoon-shaped one.

“Bend over the stairs.”

I knelt on the bottom stair and put my head on my hands. There was an onslaught of hard slaps to my bared bottom. She targeted my left cheek because it’s never as marked as my right one, Mistress applying the cane right-handed.

I have no idea how many. They were too fast to count and I was writhing around too much to care.
I stood when told. She handed me the implements.

“Now you may put everything away.”

I went to take them.

“What do you say?”

“Thank you for punishing me Mistress.”

She motioned with her eyes for me to leave her sight.

Her demeanour amplified my feeling of being treated like a naughty schoolboy. And I don’t think it’s a bad thing. In fact I’m rather happy with the tone that Mistress adopted today. I felt that she displayed the kind of real authority that I need.

I’ve always felt a degree of submission in those situations but this was different. I felt inferior, if that’s the right word, like Mistress was truly in charge of me for the first time. The telling off felt very real and had poignancy. I suppose it felt to me like Mistress wasn’t playing a role to suit my whims. It felt like she really wanted to put me in my place.

I don’t think she’s really had a hold on me like that before but I wonder if it was a passing moment, a collection of circumstances when everything fell into place, or if it’s a state of mind for us both to carry forward. I suppose only time will tell.


  1. In country school over 50 yrs ago I was a spanked school boy and a big strong 13+ 8th grader--Our teacher was a rabby old woman--I will say she made the other students go away from the school when she paddle my bare butt over her lap--I felt like a fool---I may have been a big strong guy--but she made my bare ass very sore

    1. Hi dave b. I suppose that's the way it was in those days. Not a nice experience. But maybe she was an effective disciplinarian?

  2. Good stuff. Thank you for another enjoyable post, as usual.

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