If I do say so myself, I believe I’m quite proficient with the cane. I’ve administered countless canings to many bottoms over the years and it now takes only me a few strokes to get the feel of any cane and get into ‘the swing of things’. My preference is to cane hard and I like to exceed pain thresholds so I can delight in the recipients reaction as they fail to cope with the agony. I only cane one bottom now – Robert’s. He has a very high pain threshold, so I have to work quite hard to breach it – I generally do, so he is always restrained.
The tawse is another matter. I’ve been using a variety of tawses for many years, and, as Roberts confirms, I’m getting pretty good at administering the tawse, but I still feel there is room for improvement. So more practice is needed, and that’s what I did today. Robert was informed of my intentions yesterday and was instructed to prepare the punishment room to be ready by 10.00am this morning. It takes him about half an hour to assemble the whipping bench and arrange my implements and restraining straps ready for use.
The whipping bench, as many of you will remember, is a converted, very sturdy, coffee table, and having used it for a few years, I have to say that I’m very pleased with it. I don’t have to worry about hiding it when we have visitors, as I did when I used a professional whipping bench. With the addition of two substantial wooden beams bolted at low level to either side of the table, extending at one end to support a kneeling platform, the conversion is complete. The business end of the whipping bench is raised by placing it on blocks, so Robert’s bottom is raised to a more convenient height for me to thrash. He is secured with heavy leather straps that keep his knees well apart, one strapped to each rear leg of the ‘bench’, while his torso is held down onto the sloping top of the bench by a strap that passes over the small of his back and under the top of the bench. His wrists are cuffed, then padlocked to rope loops attached to the front of the wooden side beams. Once restrained, Robert’s gaping bottom is perfectly presented for punishment. It’s impossible for him to clench his bottom cheeks and attempts to escape are utterly futile (that doesn’t stop him trying, though). I do, however, allow him the luxury of wearing a protective thong when I tawse him, to keep his ‘bits’ safe.
As I picked up my extra heavy Lochgelly tawse, I was pleased that the weather has cooled recently. When I tawse Robert I have to wear protective clothing – leather boots, long skirt, long leather gloves. Stray strokes are always possible and I have to be confident that my own delicate flesh is protected before I have the confidence to tawse Robert with maximum severity. I can get uncomfortably hot wearing all that protective clothing in warm weather while administering energetic tawsings.
Sometimes I like to keep Robert in ignorance and suspense, but today, as it was just a practise, I decided to tell him exactly what I had planned for him: My intention was to hone my skills, using two tawses. The objective was to cause maximum agony in three areas:
The top of his right thigh, using the XH Lochgelly tawse.
The top of his left thigh, using a lovely little heavy rubber tawse.
The sensitive area between his bottom cheek, using the XH Lochgelly tawse again (This requires a very skilful, ‘wrap around’ stroke, causing the tawse tails to follow the contour of the left buttock and the tawse tips to accelerate into the bottom cleft – absolutely delicious when one gets it right).
The good thing about aiming for these three areas, I explained to Robert, as he began to tremble in anticipation of the agony to come (lovely!), is that his right bottom cheek should remain unscathed, and so in a good state to conclude with a penalty caning, should the need arise.
The idea of concluding with a penalty caning was quite appealing, so I informed Robert that I expected him to accept his tawsings in total silence – failure to comply would result in six strokes of the cane for each offence.
It was time to begin. He took the first three strokes aimed at the top of his right thigh surprisingly well. I was a little disappointed. I could tell from his body language that he was struggling to cope with the nasty little rubber tawse as I cracked it down across the top of his left thigh, but although he began to struggle and there were sharp intakes of breath, he managed to keep his vocal chords under control. However, as the second stroke aimed into his bottom cleft bit in, I scored my first penalty. Every now and then I’m able to achieve that near perfect stroke – hard, accurate and where the leather lands flat with a satisfyingly sharp ‘CRACK’. It had him howling and his body went into a frenzy of desperate struggling. He was still howling as stroke three bit deep into his bottom cleft. He went berserk – wonderful!
“I’ll count that as just one penalty point, Robert,” I said, when he had quietened down, “Although I would be quite justified in calling it two penalty points. I suggest you try to keep control of yourself. I’ve only just begun. Do remember that each penalty point earns six of the best with the cane.”
I decided to administer six strokes of the tawse to each area next. They were a little harder, and to his credit, Robert showed early signs of heeding my advice. Although his body shuddered and tensed, and he hissed in air to his lungs, he managed to stay relatively quiet. That is until the tawse began to explore his bottom cleft again. I had to award a further two penalty points.
“Now, Robert,” I said, tawse in hand, as I prepared to conclude the practise, “You will need to exercise as much self control as you can during the final tawsings. I will conclude with a dozen strokes to each area. These will be the hardest of all and I expect them to be taken in complete silence”.
Robert was physically shaking with fear as I raised the tawse. The door bell rang.
Ordinarily, I would probably have ignored it, but I was expecting delivery of a new implement called a ‘priest strap’ (more about that later). It would need a signature, so I had to take off my gloves, leave Robert shut in the punishment room, while I answered the door. It was Julia, one of my neighbours, returning a cake decorating fondant mould I had loaned her. She was very excited about the cake she had just made and wanted to talk about it, so I invited her in for tea. If she wondered why I was wearing long leather boots and a long leather skirt, she said nothing.
It was forty-five minutes before I got back to Robert. My word, his weals had matured to a nice colour! His left bottom cheek was an angry red, ans the top of his thighs and bottom cleft were a mixture of red and purple weals. He looked very sore indeed, and we weren’t even half way through. The next thirty-six would be interesting.
“Remember Robert,” I said, as I picked up the tawse, “In complete silence.”
He tried so hard, but it was inevitable that he would fail. In the end it was difficult to tell when one shriek ended and the next began. I’ve warned him countless times that shrieking and pleading for mercy is counter productive – it simply encourages me to thrash him harder still. He never learns.
I gave Robert a few minutes to compose himself after his final thirty-six with the tawse, before announcing that he would receive a penalty caning of thirty-six strokes. I administered them immediately with maximum severity using a dragon cane.
I cleaned Robert and the cane up with surgical spirit, before releasing him and leaving him to clean the blood speckles off the ceiling.
I feel satisfied that my tawsing continues to improve. The final thirty-six included a few real gems – strokes that really ‘hit the sweet spot’. The sound of leather cracking down on bare flesh with the report of a firecracker is blissful, and the resultant squealing and writhing of the recipient is a joy to behold. If only I could achieve 100% perfect strokes. The practice must continue.
The door bell rang again. My priest strap had arrived. What a shame I will have to wait for Robert to recover before I can fully test it.