Wednesday, 24 December 2014

Reflections on my punishment

Mistress and I discussed the other night’s 60-stroke caning and both agreed it was a good thing for our relationship. It was severe but any kind of discipline was well overdue and we needed something like this to put our DD regime back on track.

It helped Mistress re-assert her authority because to carry out such a disciplinary measure she needed to take complete control and, it allowed me to show my submission to her in the most extreme of situations. Had she wavered in the slightest I could have taken advantage but by maintaining her strict demeanour she showed is prepared to take no nonsense from me.

Mistress surprised me several times that night. Firstly we’d agreed to an evening of pleasurable exchanges – with more of a playful caning. I’ll admit my behavior on the previous two evenings wasn’t good but I was taken aback when it became apparent she intended to punish me.

Punishment, she said, helped reinstate our domestic discipline regime. It was, if you like, a short sharp boot-camp style shock.

The second surprise was the sheer weight she packs with each cane stroke now. I’ve said this before but it seems like she is becoming ever more proficient in her ‘duty.’ 

I’m also surprised by her enthusiasm for being my disciplinarian. She was genuinely frustrated when I’d brought things to halt on the previous night, complaining she was ‘just getting into my rhythm.’

And I was dismayed when, after handing out such an effective 36 strokes, she ordered me back over the bench for the final 24. In the past, she would have baulked at adding to such a heavily marked bottom. I think that showed he willingness to ensure my discipline was complete.

Later in bed that night, we cuddled and I asked her how she felt towards me when she was caning me and she replied: “It was something you needed to remind you of the pledge you took some time ago. I didn’t think we would achieve anything if I let you off lightly.”

But how did Mistress feel about me, wimpering after each stroke? Did she feel sorry for me – or was she happy to see me suffering, I wondered. Did she feel any disdain for this pathetic, wimpering creature before her?

“Not at all. I was focused on what I had to do. I love you dearly but you needed the discipline. I was surprised you took it so well. You still made a fuss, but nothing like I imagined you would. But it had to be done otherwise we’d both still be pussy footing around the issues.”

The issues she mentioned, being me not accepting Mistress’ authority, me not accepting her discipline – and me eroding Mistress’ confidence as a result.

“Perhaps we can treat this as a fresh start," she continued. "At least you now know the extent I am willing to punish you now if you are stupid enough to upset me. I think you can say Domestic Discipline is now reinstated in this house.”

With that statement, Mistress rolled over to sleep leaving me to analyse how I felt. My bottom still burned and throbbed. The cheeks were swollen considerably and felt very bruised and raw.

I surmised that I’d just experienced the most intense caning of my life. Even for a CP enthusiast like I’ve been for years, it wasn’t a pleasant experience but in many ways had been a gratifying one.

One of the most pleasing aspects was Mistress telling me I’d taken it better than she expected. I had tried so hard to control my reactions and emotions. But more important was that we had fully engaged our DD roles and, according to Mistress, had something to work on. I’m happy with that. I thrive on Mistress’ authority. I like the closeness it brings us and it’s great see Mistress thriving on her power.

How do I feel about the ever-present threat of the cane? On this most recent experience I’m ever more conscious of trying to avoid it’s searing sting. But the added zest of a DD lifestyle makes it worthwhile.
I’ll try to tell myself that the next time Mistress is strapping me to the bench.    

Tuesday, 23 December 2014

Punishment completed

Well, now I know what it’s like to be caned without mercy. To be taken way beyond one’s limits. To be left wimpering, sweating and shaking but nevertheless, elated to have finally overcome a hurdle that I’d been struggling to clear for many weeks now.

My fantasy had been for a nice evening of kisses and cuddles with Mistress and I wrapped in pvc and rubber. There would be a 60-stroke session with the cane at some point and I expected it to hurt, but it would be more play than punishment I told myself – a birthday celebration with a bit of festive revelry we could both indulge in as a year of work came to an end.

Be careful what you wish for. Our planned evening of indulgence was abandoned when family called to say they’d be dropping by. Mistress gave me a quick dozen cane strokes before we went to bed but I couldn’t take the second six, due to not being secured.

We tried again the next night but we’ve changed out room around and the bench didn’t fit right between other furniture. When we started the caning it felt like I was going to topple over with the bench. We abandoned after another dozen.

Mistress was so frustrated and blamed me for wimping out. Which, I hate to admit, was the truth. I couldn’t face it at the rate she was applying the rod. We could have sorted it out there and then but I made such a fuss about feeling unsafe that Mistress eventually told me to pack the equipment away.
She gave me one more chance on Sunday and told me to have everything set up when she arrived home late in the afternoon from a shopping trip with a friend.

Our caning bench is two stools, one tall, one small, which we bind together when neded, but it’s far from ideal when I start to writhe around. It has to jammed up against a chair and setee so I spent the afternoon making sure everything was secure for one last go. 

Mistress adopted the strictest, no nonsense attitude I’ve ever experienced as soon as she arrived home and, if I’m honest, I was quite unnerved – more so when she told me to get ready for punishment.
It was clear there was going to be none of the playful games I’d fantasised about so by the time I’d been secured over the bench I was extremely nervous.

I had every right to be. From the outset it was obvious Mistress was determined to treat this as corrective therapy. I’ve never known her cane so hard. I’ve said that before, but each stroke left a fiercely hot stinging in my bottom that hadn’t even begun to fade before the next lash.

By 12 I was in the same state as usual. It felt like all 12 had been laid on the same spot, but probably only the last eight or nine had. If you’ve ever experience that, you’ll know how much that can hurt.
I was wimpering for it to stop. Mistress did allow maybe two minutes before the next 12. It wasn’t long enough. Somehow I didn’t scream but I was struggling close to tears. The only brief moment I recall taking my mind off the pain was when I was writhing around and from the upside down position of my head, caught a glimpse of Mistress. All I could see were her legs, wide apart, and her hips swiveling as she put every ounce of power into a stroke. I wanted to watch more but the instant the pain from that swipe landed I closed my eyes to try and block out what was happening.

The last 12 were pure agony. I got through them but I was in a desperate state, with no idea how I’d survived 24 more.

I go into a panic mode is such situations and start to imagine the damage to my bottom. It felt so swollen, such a huge target and was stinging so badly I thought the flesh had been stripped off and blood was running down the back of my legs. I really felt something dribbling. It must have been sweat because Mistress didn’t break the flesh once.

I heard her put the cane down – it rattled that dry rattle against the others – and I expected a change of cane but the next second I felt her hot breath on my face as she whispered, ‘That should do you until after you’ve served dinner,” and proceeded to release me from my bonds.

I prepared dinner and we ate in a totally normal, if very slightly tense, atmosphere like nothing had happened – apart from me finding it very painful to sit down. That’s was another first. In all my years of suffering the cane, ‘being caned till you can’t sit down,’ happened to me.

We watched TV for about an hour then Mistress said, “I think it’s time, don’t you? We still have 24 strokes left. Get ready.”

I did exactly as told and was strapped into place again. This I was dreading. My bottom was already so sore. I did well to dread. The first batch of 12 was hell. I felt sick. Dizzy. If I thought the first 36 were bad, then this was worse. Despite that, I thought I took them better though. I knew I’d not made so much noise, though I could feel perspiration rolling down my face – and my chest on the leather topped stool felt damp – which I assumed was me sweating.

For the last 12 Mistress seemed to back off a little. The first six stung but lacked the bite of the others. Then she gave me six rapid fire stroke to finish which had me yelping again. And then it was over. 
Sixty strokes. I would never had thought it possible a couple of days earlier but we had got through it at last.

After 60 strokes. The other marks were caused by several hours before punishment in PVC pants

Friday, 19 December 2014

Birthday celebration?

Although my birthday is not until early next week, the scene is set for the ‘special’ present after Mistress asked me to remind her of my fantasy last night.

“Birthday beatings seem popular,” I ventured, “One stroke for every year seems to be the way. That’s what I’d like to experience. But rather than a straightforward punishment session, I’d like to spend the entire evening in PVC like we used to do – lots of kissing and cuddling, with a little bit of CP.”

There was a time before DD that we used to spend entire evenings, some times entire weekends in PVC of rubber outfits, interspersed with mild doses of corporal punishment. But since we adopted the DD regime, the only ‘dressing up’ is my in my housecoat and pants. Mistress had gone off the idea of cat suits and raincoats because ‘they’re not comfortable things to wear around the house all the time,’ she once said. But she wasn’t even considering the clothing at this point.

“Hmmm,” she said with a worried look. “You can’t even take 36 strokes without a fuss. Sixty is going to be impossible.”

“Not if I’m secured Mistress. I’ll have no choice.”

Mistress looked at me disdainfully. “Very well, if that’s your wish. You will take all 60 strokes though, five batches of 12, and it’ll be just any normal punishment session so that means the Dragon canes. It will hurt. I promise you that much. If I’m going to use the cane, it’s going to be used properly. Are you sure it’s what you want?”

I didn’t need to think about it. “Yes please Mistress.”

I know it’s one of those things that might seem like a good idea at the time – especially when you are in a world of fantasy. But it’s also something I’ve thought about for some time – a great way to celebrate what hopefully might be a new era. Any of you reading this blog on a regular basis with be wondering how I could contemplate such a beating after all the turbulent times I’ve been through with DD recently. I don’t understand either.

It started as a fantasy which I never thought could happen but since mentioning it to Mistress, she seems to have embraced the idea and, while she won’t admit it, she seems to be looking forward to thrashing me. Much more than I anticipated.

My heart was now racing at the thought of it becoming reality – how the evening might pan out, but I was quickly brought back to earth with a bump.

“Of course, this birthday present doesn’t affect any domestic disciplinary matters. You understand that? I shall still expect your very best behavior and even though your bottom is going to be quite heavily marked, don’t think that will save you from further punishment in the days leading up to the holiday period, should you step out of line.”

“I understand Mistress. Thank you.”

Once again, the masochist’s charter, ‘be careful what you wish for,’ seemed to haunt me.  But it’s too late to turn back now.

Tuesday, 16 December 2014

“Please Mistress, will you cane me?”

As you know, there’s been a distinct lack of discipline in our house for some time. Both of us have been so busy with work that our homelife has consisted of little else but making sure we’re eaten meals and getting sleep.

This past weekend has been the first time in a few months where we’ve spent two complete days together, a time for relaxation. We caught up on lots of things and one aspect we discussed was our DD regime – and how to get it back on track. We both agreed that even if there was no reason to discipline me for breaking any rules, we both might benefit from regular disciplinary methods in the short term, to help relieve the stress in our lives.

I’ve been through some difficult times trying to decide if I can cope with DD 24/7 but it’s pretty obvious that our relationship benefits from it - and Mistress wasn’t contemplating giving it up. It’s been difficult for us both to commit to the kind of commitment it takes from both sides to keep it working effectively.

We touched on the subject several times over the weekend, but were also busy catching up so many other aspects of home life that there still wasn’t the time to focus on what it would take to return to our once strict atmosphere.

However, all the talk made me realise that DD is as important to Mistress as it is to me so the sooner we can get back on the track the better.

We decided the Christmas holiday would be a good time to ‘re-focus’ but on Sunday evening but I still had nagging doubts about regular discipline. It had been several months since my last appointment with the cane and it wasn’t a pleasant experience – and neither had been several appointments before that.

Before we both agreed to resume DD I needed to know whether I could actually cope with Mistress’s methods of maintaining discipline and decided to take the bull by the horns.

I don’t know if there was something in the fact that I’d been relaxing in PVC pyjamas all evening and that had somehow triggered my submissive side but I went into the bedroom to speak to Mistress who was already in bed, reading.

“Mistress,” I said, immediately announcing my submissive intentions, “please would you cane me before we settle down tonight? We’ve talked about resuming our regime but I need to know if I can still cope with your punishment. It only need be six strokes, just to remind me what I might be getting myself into.”

Was this topping from the bottom? I don’t think so because for several months now, we’ve not even had any kind of hierarchy in the relationship. It’s been pure vanilla.

Anyway, Mistress stared into my eyes, then looked up and down my betwime ‘uniform.’ I squirmed in embarrassment.

“Go and fetch the cane,” she commanded, sliding out of bed and putting her dressing gown on.

I quickly did as I was told, my heart racing and I went to the cane cupboard in the spare bedroom. I was tempted to go for the school cane, the least painful of our canes – but my hand pulled out the thin Dragon – the most painful weapon of discipline in our collection.

Why did I do that? After all my inner questions about being able to cope I still opted for the most painful proposition. I’d suggest that my ‘need’ to feel the cane, still outweighs the ever-present underlying fear of corporal punishment.

Mistress took the cane out of my hand and tapped it on the bed. ‘Face down, bottom up,” she said and quickly slashed me six times, from the right side.

I managed to surpress any noise – which surprised me as much as it did Mistress – and I was about to get up, think we’d done the necessary.

“Stay still,” she snapped, as I realized she was walking around to the other side of the bedroom.

I felt the cane tap my bottom again and braced myself. Another six from the left side. Again, taken in silence.

Silence maybe but I was under no illusion that this was only 12 strokes, where regular discipline had previously been 36. Even so, the stinging strokes still had squirming around. It was the painful experience I knew only too well.

“Now you can get up. Put the cane away and come to bed.”

I did as I was told and snuggled up in bed with Mistress.

“Do you feel better now?”

“Yes thank you Mistress. Thank you for caning me.”

“I thought I had better not be too harsh with you so I wasn’t caning you full strength. But I take it this is your acceptance to a return to our regime?”

My heart dropped when she said she'd been treating my lightly.

“Yes Mistress. Thank you,” I said, but realized the gravity of the situation. I could now expect to be corrected at any time and the next time I would feel the cane would doubtless be a very different experience.

How would I feel about that? Right now I’m happy we’ve moved on and I’m happy that Mistress is clearly relishing the opportunity to ‘take command’ again. Being caned is a small price to pay for having a little bit extra zest in our relationship. I wonder if I’ll still feel like that after a few doses of her discipline?

*I think I might find out much sooner than later. Some time ago I told Mistress a special fantasy fetish day would be a great way to celebrate a really landmark birthday I am due. I’d almost given up on the idea but out of the blue Mistress mentioned it at the weekend. The fantasy of course included the cane. I’ll let you know if it happens... 

Wednesday, 5 November 2014

Reflections of the cane

Well, I hate to disappoint you all, but it didn’t happen. I wasn’t punished last night after all. Mistress was delayed so she got home late and by the time she did, it was late and she just wanted me to serve her dinner and then relax after a hard day of work.

She even apologized for not having the energy to discipline me.

I understood and was relieved I avoided the cane yet again. But with relief came a tinge of disappointed. As I said, I still don’t know if I can face going back to regular discipline and the thought of being secured for a thrashing fills me with dread. But I had done my best to prepare myself for the worst. Can you understand my bitter sweet feelings?

This morning, after Mistress leaves for work I go to face my demons – or more specifically, to look in the cane cupboard. I need to try and embrace my lost willingness to accept discipline.

I get dress in my baggy PVC punishment pants, my longest PVC mackintosh and shiny boots. The feel of the pants and the sweet musty odour of the mackintosh stimulate my senses.

I pull the two Dragon canes from the umbrella stand that resides within, locked away in the wardrobe. One is thick and offers a deep thuddy feel. I run my fingers over the soft texture of the leopard-skin handle that Mistress so loves to grip. It’s a stark contrast to the thick, unyielding rattan cane, beautifully sanded smooth, it’s varnish bearing a multitude of hairline cracks where the rod has flexed so much over the years of use.

I forcefully disturb the air with its whooshing sound. I wince at the impact such a full-blooded stroke would have on my bottom. The  deep, thudding sensation that builds from a narrow line of impact into a bruising sting across my entire buttocks.  I shudder at the thought.  I pause to think how many strokes of this rod has been applied to my bottom over the years. It must be in the hundreds.

I look at the thin Dragon. My nemesis. This is the cane that, with Mistress’ help, has tipped me over the edge. It’s shorter than the thicker Dragon cane and so innocuous to look at. I pick it up. It’s so light but just flexing it’s shaft reveals just how whippy it can be. You wouldn’t think such a lightweight rod of rattan could evoke such a powerful effect on an adult.

I slice this through the air and the high-pitched thwip sound makes my stomach churn. I know  this sound so well. And I know what 36 strokes feel like. That intense burning sting that focuses on that thin line of impact and just builds and builds with burning agony. You wouldn’t think such a lightweight rod of rattan could bring an adult like me to the point of tears.

I put the cane back on the table and stare at the two rods of torture. I sit and think of how I got to this moment in time.

My years of fascination with corporal punishment, tied up with my schoolboy fear of the cane.  How my fear turned to fetish and a need to experience the cane.

I think of how Mistress has embraced my strange ways and embellished it to the point that it became a desire in her to punish me.

I think how my fetish has turned back in to fear – that same fear of the cane I felt at school.  And I realize that no matter how much I may fight it I am going to continue to feel it’s disciplinary sting. It’s something Mistress has decreed. And she knows, that deep down inside of me, there still exists a need in me to experience its devastatingly delightful dsicplinary effect.