I lay bent over the bench after the thrashing had ended. My stinging, burning bottom felt swollen. I was breathing heavily and still shaking involuntarily.
As I gradually composed myself I remembered that oft used submissive’s cliché, ‘be careful what you wish for.’
Maintenance punishment last night was the first caning under our new regime of 36 strokes delivered at a set tempo with no break. No more batches of 12 and few seconds to regain some kind of self-control. No more six or 12 strokes delivered rapid fire that used to help get things over faster.
Mistress delivered the 36 strokes methodically at a set tempo – with barely enough time between strokes for me to count, ‘One, thank you Mistress,’ She stopped only once for a brief second, she later told me, to check how low, the low stroke she applied to the tops of my thighs actually was.
When you’re caned in 12s you long for that break. When it’s 36 in one go, you just have to hang on the best you can. I didn’t do well.
Several times Mistress told me to be quiet. But it didn’t stop her lashing the cane down again. I can remember thinking after number 13, ‘she’s not stopping for the normal break after 12.’
At 18 I thought, ‘oh, my god, we’re only half way.’
But it wasn’t until the last stroke that I realised Mistress had only been caning me at probably 80% of here true venom. How did I know? The last one really was full force and took my breath. And then I got two extras I earned for snatching my left hand away when Mistress had been fastening me to the bench.
The last two were equally full force.
As I composed myself over that bench, I could only wonder what state I’d be in if Mistress used that same force for all 36.
We followed the same post-punishment practice of parading my whipped bottom in front of Mistress for her to admire the total accuracy of her handiwork.
“Lovely parallel lines,” she said with pleasure and then waved me away to my chores in the kitchen.
So this is how Thursday nights were going to be again, I told myself. I pulled up my plastic pants, slipped my pvc housecoat on and went to do the dishes. Better get used to it. But then does one ever get used to a 36-stroke caning?
Maybe some of you do (get used to a set level – of not 36 strokes). I’d be interested to know. But I haven’t so far. It’s always seems to tip me over the edge, which I suppose is how punishment is meant to work.
I get a strange kind of subservient feeling after punishment, a real sense of satisfaction from doing my chores that I don’t get every other night, which I suppose show that our system has some benefit.