Wednesday, 8 April 2015

CP training in progress

My bottom cheeks are mass of knotty ridges. Not sore, but quite bruised and lined with twin-track cane marks. Its two days since Mistress let loose with the cane – all part of my ‘retraining.’

It’s not worked out quite how I expected. It’s not the full boot camp we discussed and Mistress hasn’t insisted on things like uniform each day, me keeping a diary, or even adhering to the most basic of rules but there is an under-current of tension in our relationship. It’s the kind of tension that tells me to mind my step, do as I’m told and make sure I show respect at all times. Something our relationship has been lacking and I think we’re both happy to have back in place.

We’ve quickly reached that stage of ‘awareness’ thanks to some intensive moments. Mistress, if you recall, was tired of my lack of willingness to bow to her authority or take punishment. So we embarked on this re-training programme, which kicked off with me getting the cane, just to remind me of how discipline will be maintained. The difference now is Mistress had done away with restraints and will punish me as and when she sees fit.

She’s seen fit to do so quite a lot in the past few days. Initially I found it impossible to take the cane without losing my position over the waist-high ladder. We used to use this all the time but as punishment got ever more severe, I couldn’t hold my place so we adapted two different height stools that I could be secured over.

Mistress wanted to instill more self-discipline in me so now it’s over the ladder and hold on best I can.
We were away during the weekend but Mistress insisted on us taking the Loopy Johnny to maintain discipline all weekend.  It’s a neat little whip, with three thin loops of rubber, which creates very little noise so can be vigorously used in hotel rooms. It could be if the sorry recipient, ie me, could maintain any kind of composure. I felt the Loopy Johnny many times over our weekend break. Mistress wasn’t giving me any leeway. When used vigourously, it can evoke a burning stinging sensation.

Monday night we were back home and I received a memorable thrashing with the cane. Thankfully, we’ve not progressed to the thin Dragon yet, initial training is helped along with copious use of the crook-handled school cane – which still has a very effective thuddy sting.

We had agreed on a tariff of 12 strokes in any one punishment, with extras for moving or creating too much of a fuss. But Mistress was clearly displeased with me and told me I was to be punished for a lack of respect and not doing what I was told quickly enough.

I had no redress with the decision and bent over with some degree of confidence I could take the 12. Only it wasn’t 12. Mistress carried on to 18 – and then 24. By 18 I was losing grip and standing bolt upright, delaying each stroke while trying to regain composure.

When we reached 24 Mistress said, “Right, I’m going to give you three more and if you stay in position, you can get up.”

I recall groaning and gripping tight. Mistress unleashed the most incredible cane shots I’ve ever had and on the third, I lost grip.

“Three more,” she said.

Again, I lost grip. By now I was blubbering and wimpering like a child.

“If you think it’s that funny we can carry on all night boy,” she said.

“I’m not laughing Mistress. I’m crying.”

She bent down to look at my face and could see the tears I was squeezing from my tightly shut eyes at each stroke.

“It’s surely the easiest thing in the world to hang on to that bottom bar for three little strokes?” she asked, mocking my plight.

She was right of course. But each time the pain was beating down my fortitude to hang on. Three more. I held on but she spotted my finger and thumb relax and let go.

“Oh dear, three more,” she said.

The same happened again. But finally I manage to hold on and Mistress allowed me to get up.
She ordered me to kneel before her and said: “You have yourself to blame for that. If you’d done as you were told it would have been all over after 24. You had better get used to holding on tight, hadn’t you boy?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Better still you could improve your behaviour so we don’t need to use the cane anymore. But with your appalling behaviour I think that’s very unlikely, don’t you?”

“No Mistress.”

Thursday, 2 April 2015

DD training underway

“We need to discuss discipline,” said Mistress, whispering in my ear as we lie in bed the other night.

“I know. I’m becoming obsessed by the thought of corporal punishment. The fantasy of it is always on my mind yet I’m frightened by the reality,” I admitted.

“It’s time we implemented that training programme we discussed,” she said.

My stomach churned, but I found myself saying, “I’d like that please Mistress.”

Mistress rolled over and went to sleep. Needless to say, I didn’t, wondering what her next move would be.

The next evening I came home from work and was met at the door. Immediately I knew what was coming.

“I want you to go up upstairs, get changed and bring me the cane,” said Mistress.

“Do I need restraints Mistress?” I asked humbly.

“You know the new rules,” she said and waved me away.

The new rules of course were that there would be no restraints. Remaining in place for punishment without restraints was intended as a way of teaching me self discipline. I was hoping I could take our early re-training tariff of no more than 12 strokes without too much fuss.

Why only 12? When we discussed why I’d lost the ability to take the heavier punishments – normally 36 strokes – I explained to Mistress that I suffered a fit of panic early on in a punishment, knowing I’d not take the full amount without a fuss.

She decided that to re-train me properly, we’d start at a maximum of 12 in any one batch – like we did all those years ago. But there could be an unlimited number of  batches of 12 in any one day. I’d not escaped severe punishment.

Upstairs I put on my punishment pants and took the crook-handled cane from the cupboard, then presented myself to Mistress in the living room. The ladder I would soon have to bend over was already in place.

There was little dialogue. Mistress took the cane from me and then used it as a pointer to motion me to bend over the ladder. My ankles were pinioned on the inside of a rail at the bottom of the ladder. I had to grip the bottom run of the other side.

Mistress peeled down my plastic pants and within seconds I felt the familiar tapping of thin rattan on my bared bottom, followed by a whoosh and an intense sting.

The pain of the cane is something I’ve never got used to and it’s always a shock how much it stings. She gave me six and stopped.

“Take a deep breath,” she said. “Six fast ones.”

I broke the rules when I let go of the bottom rail after four of them and stood upright while she finished the final two.

“Back over for six more.”

I groaned but bent back over, fearing I’d incur even more if not. The final six were delivered at a more time-honoured steady pace. I honestly think she was lenient with the final six, which allowed me to maintain my composure.

“You deserve more,” Mistress said, “but that will do for now. I think it’s safe for you to assume that this is the start of our new DD regime. You can go and make my dinner now.”