“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.”