During a long weekend away Mistress decided to reacquaint me with the delights of the cane.
For many years now Mistress has always expected me to pack one of our canes in a suitcase for our holiday’s and, even though we’d not been embracing our FLR for some time, the habit of carefully bending a length of rattan to conceal it in the bottom of a suitcase, wasn’t something I’d overlooked when I packed the cases this time.
When we arrived at the hotel, Mistress was delighted to spot the red handle of the thickest kooboo cane in our collection.
“Its just as well you brought that isn’t it? The way you’ve been behaving just lately, I think it’s time you learned a few lessons. Clothes off and lie over the end of the bend.”
So, within a few brief minutes of arriving at the hotel, my bottom was being striped with the rhythmic thwack of the meaty cane. Twelve quick, hard strokes had me squirming around the bed, my bottom reddened, a deeply intense stinging burn lingering several minutes well after the strokes had been applied.
I wondered to myself what all the fuss was about on my behalf in pushing Mistress away from being so dominant what seemed like months ago? Being caned wasn’t so terrible. In fact, it was a rather luxurious, bitter-sweet sensation to be under Mistress spell after so long.
The lecture that followed wasn’t so comforting. “With nothing to distract us, we can take the time to remind you of your place and your responsibilities,” she told me with the kind of steely stare that I’d not seen in many months.
I suppose this change in persona had been precipitated by several recent discussions regarding our FLR. After many months of a vanilla lifestyle, I had been keen to reinstate our old regime. But Mistress didn’t seem interested in the up and down rollercoaster of life with a sometime submissive. We had discussed my ‘need’ for occasional discipline and Mistress ventured I should seek a disciplinarian.
I’d been that route in my previous relationship so knew the pitfalls, as well as the positives, and felt that it would be much more beneficial for Mistress to discipline me. But she wasn’t keen and I can’t say I could blame her, given my past history of refusing to accept her authority when it didn’t suit me to play to her rules.
When she insisted I seek help, I relented and, for once, did as I was told. I knew I needed real discipline and quite by chance found a group just establishing a judicial punishment event and made enquiries.
It’s a male only event, which suits me. There would be no hint of intimacy, there would be some degree of severity and there would be no ‘bratting.’ It sounded like it would be a serious event, which was exactly what I needed.
But why an event and not a one-on-one meeting? Honestly? I felt an event would add to the humiliation of my punishment, and that I would have no option to seek any mercy in front of a group, where in a one-on-one, I might be able to solicit a lesser punishment when faced with real severity.
I was required to make a confession to the Court but before submitting anything I discussed it in detail with Mistress, who then dictated a covering letter, to add to my own damning confession.
Before I received sentence from the court, Mistress and I went on our long weekend break and, it seems, with corporal punishment on her mind.
Suffice to say, after three days away my bottom was well and truly stripped and swollen. I had several 12-stroke sessions and a few sixers, and quite enjoyed the entire experience. Whether I’ll feel the same getting all the strokes in one drawn out punishment is another matter but for now I’ll just enjoy having Mistress back.
But when we returned home that Judicial Punishment Court summons was waiting for me. I’m not sure where I stand now. My official summons from the court makes no bones that I’m to suffer a very severe punishment. It’s quite scary to contemplate what I’m facing. But if Mistress is now dealing with my discipline I wonder if she sees the need in me attending the Court, preferring instead to discipline me in her own inimitable way?