We have just returned from an extra long weekend break – a few days, which gave us both a chance to re-charge our batteries and re-connect on every level of our relationship after being so busy in recent months.
One level was our FLR and, luckily, I had I remembered to pack a couple of implements plus my ‘regulation’ punishment pants. Sure enough, we had barely got on the road when Mistress turned to me and said, “I trust you packed something?”
She needed to say no more. I knew what she meant and I was happy to inform Mistress that I had indeed packed a can and the Loopy Johnny whip. She said nothing but smiled.
From that moment the atmosphere changed. Mistress adopted he more authoritative aura and it wasn’t long before I’d incurred her wrath.
We had been discussing whether or not it was time for a break and a cup of coffee and I had in mind, which services to stop at. However, that meant driving past the first one we came to.
As we zoomed past, me oblivious to the services, Mistress said: “And what about my coffee?
I could tell she wasn’t pleased.
“You didn’t specify when or where you wanted to stop Mistress – just that you wanted a coffee.”
“How dare you question me? I said I’d like a coffee. I would expect you to think of pleasing me by stopping as soon as possible. This is not a good start, is it?”
Nothing more was said on the subject that day and we both slept well on the first night in the hotel, our long-distance travel having taking a toll on us both.
Day two was different however with Mistress waking to tell me she wasn’t pleased with my attitude and seeming to gain enthusiasm for dominating me as the day progressed. It didn’t seem to matter where she voiced her disappointment in me, in shops, in the street. My blushes weren’t her concern as she berated me for any small matter where I didn’t show the correct submissive attitude or spoke out of turn.
From my point of view I have to say I was quite enjoying seeing Mistress asserting herself again but my pleasure was tinged with a degree of fear of what was brewing.
Sure enough back at the hotel it was time for punishment. The only cane that fitted into the suitcase was a thin Kooboo, and then it had to be bent in arc to fit.
We used the bed bolster to raise my bottom off the bed and, after turning up the volume of the TV, Mistress applied the cane slowly and methodically to my bottom. I wasn’t counting but I’d say she gave me 18 strokes. I was impressed by how well I took them – considering the state I get into when I’m caned at home with the thin Dragon. I uttered not a sound. But then these strokes were mere fleabites to the stinging cuts of the Dragon cane.
Then she gave me a vigorous thrashing with the Loopy Johnny, which makes far less noise than any other implement we have. The sting is quite intense and after Mistress made sure my sit spot got some fresh swipes to ensure, my self-composure disappeared and I was starting to make a bit of noise again.
Straight after punishment, Mistress ordered me to perform a routine of exercises: sit-ups, press-ups, as well as some pilates-style ones to improve my posture. She’d never done this before.
“You need to start working some of that fat off,” she said bluntly. Normally such comment might hurt, but in the heat of this moment I took them in the mood delivered – to humiliate and punish me.
Later in bed I disappointed Mistress again – my over-excitement producing soiled sheets before we had even got started. Now I really was in trouble.
As part of the discussion about my terrible performance, Mistress said how disappointed she was that she’d not been able to elicit more of a reaction from me when she had used the cane – and therefore hadn’t experienced the same pleasure in thrashing me as normal.
This took me aback slightly because I’d assumed all along that Mistress caned me purely because it started out as something that I’d wanted and she’d realized along the way, was needed to keep me on the straight and narrow.
I know it sounds strange but since we had stopped playing CP games and used punishment to correct real faults, I’d not even considered Mistress might derive sexual pleasure from caning me.
A typical case of me thinking the world focuses on me!
It does sound strange but then my only pleasure from CP these days is the actual anticipation. The reality is not enjoyable at all. And, as Mistress always seems to casually indifferent, it never occurred to me she derived pleasure from it.
I needed to know more and humbly asked Mistress if should would be kind enough to explain.
“I enjoy seeing you getting more and more stressed before a punishment,” she admitted. “You do get yourself worked up so. It’s rather amusing to see you squirm so much and listening to your pathetic attempts to wriggle out of being caned.
“If I’ve had a really tough day myself, caning you is such a great stress relief too. That’s when I really like to watch you suffer.
“That’s the most pleasurable moment - seeing you get your self into a such a state when I’m caning you. In some ways it annoys me that you make so much fuss because your pathetic whimpering is so loud at times that the neighbours might hear. That’s my only worry.
You are such a wimp. And all that wriggling about makes it difficult for me to keep the stripes nice and accurate - I do love it so when all the stripes are perfectly lined up. But on the other hand, it’s so enjoyable to see you suffering for all your failings. That little bottom of yours clenching. Your head jerking all over the place. The heavy breathing – and you begging for me to stop because you can’t take anymore. You are such a sight.”
I lay there, my heart pounding, barely able to speak. I was strangely excited by the picture Mistress was painting of me being such a pathetic male - and scared. Scared that she derived so much pleasure.
Mistress must have realized what she was doing to me. We were in a tight embrace throughout this discussion.
These inner thoughts were quite a revelation but I wasn’t complaining. I knew she wanted me to pay more attention to her, to do more around the house and show my respect, but I’d always assumed she only played this role to please me.
There I go again- thinking the world revolved around me!
“Well Mistress, I never realized how much this meant to you. No wonder you get so frustrated by my on-off attitude to your dominance. It sounds like we have an interesting future to look forward to as far as out FLR is concerned?”
“Only if you start to behave as a good submissive should and start to treat me with extra special respect,” she warned.
Mistress rolled over and went to sleep. I lay pondering prospects and my future fate.
The next day was similar to the first. We spent the day out walking, Mistress taking time out to occasionally berate me about some minor misdemeanour.
Late afternoon we went back to the hotel before our planned evening meal – and out came the cane again. This time Mistress used a more rapid tempo and oh how I wished we were at home, with me fastened to the bench. It’s so hard to maintain position laying on the bed with only loose sheets to grip on to.
After a dose of the whip she gave me another stream of exercises to work through that left me breathless.
Last night we were back home and Mistress revealed more gems. “I was going to punish your properly tonight but I’m too tired to put the kind of effort into it that it needs. It’ll have to wait.”
I can’t deny I was relieved – yet disappointed at the same time.
“But I’ve also been considering how I can get you to remember your place,” she continued rather sternly. “I’ve decided that from now on, as soon as you come in the door from work I’m going to give you a routine of exercises to work through. You need the exercise anyway to get you in shape. And I need to get you into the mindset of me being in charge and can’t think of a better way to instill my authority.”
We discussed the idea in some detail and I told Mistress I was very happy with her decision to help with my weight issues. It probably didn’t matter what I thought, but it did really seem like a good idea.
She asked me for comments how I thought we could improve on her idea and I said the one thing that helps me into a submissive mindset is wearing something different to my everyday vanilla clothing.
Mistress knew exactly what I meant – pvc pants and housecoat - and nodded, as if to tuck that idea away for later. I said it wasn’t so much a pleasure thing, though it is that. But it’s also a way of triggering my submissive side. Perhaps the ‘uniform’ combined with her training regime, would act as a powerful stimulus for me to become more in tune with my position, I ventured. She said nothing and we again rolled over to get some sleep.
Now I’m left wondering what’s coming next. Whether Mistress is going to implement her new physical training regime. If or when she will carry out the threat of punishment held over from last night. And how Mistress’s desire to discipline is going to manifest itself in the long term.