Several years ago I saw the new year in by caning Robert. The caning began as the first chimes of Big Ben wafted from our radio, and continued until the final chime. I haven’t timed it, but it’s a long time, especially if you are caning briskly. It excited me that the last Robert’s final sensation of one year, and his first of the next would be the same – excruciating agony, as the cane bit repeatedly into his writhing bottom. I caned him briskly and hard, and I remember being quite out of breath at the end of it. The chiming seemed to last an eternity, and I can’t imagine how long it must have seemed to Robert. My goodness, what a sore bottom he had!
I decided to do something similar this new year, but instead of Big Ben to accompany the thrashing, it would be fireworks. In our area the first fireworks are often to be heard long before midnight on New Year’s Eve. I instructed Robert to have the whipping bench assembled early in the evening, then informed him that he would be secured over it as soon as we heard the first firework, and that he would remain over it until the crescendo at midnight had tailed off. I told him that he would be punished at my leisure, with plenty of pauses to reflect, but the finale, at midnight, would be brisk and hard. Robert was mortified when we heard the first firework at just after 8.00 in the evening.
“That means I’ll be over the whipping bench for over four hours!” he complained.
“Yes it does,” I agreed, “It does seem rather a long time, but it can’t be helped, rules are rules. I want you over the whipping bench, naked, in less than one minute. Otherwise there will be consequences.” I looked at my watch to emphasise that I wasn’t joking.
Robert knows not to argue with me. He looked terrified as he began to undress. I love it when he’s terrified. But what was I going to do for 4 hours? Imagination was required. As I stood over him, looking down at his perfectly presented, and totally helpless bare bottom, I had a lovely idea. I would treat Robert to 4 hours in a state of heightened suspense and anticipation, punctuated with agony.
We both love classical music, and we have a compact music centre and a pair of high quality headphones. I fetched these from the lounge, together with the first CD I would treat him to: Ravel’s ‘Bolero’. I also fetched the blindfold I keep with my restraint equipment.
“I don’t want to hear a word from you until next year, Robert,” I said, as I placed the blindfold over his eyes. “If I do, your punishment will be even more severe.”
“We’ll talk again next year,” I said, as I placed the earphones over his head.
A few seconds later, the gentle introduction of my first music choice began to fill the punishment room, and also Robert’s headphones. I was quite sure that he would now never know whether I was in the room, or not, and he would never know when agony was about to sear across his helpless bare bottom. I left the room, then went downstairs to select the second piece of music he would ‘enjoy’. I decided to treat him to at least one, perhaps two short thrashings at random times during each piece of music, using a variety of implements. I’d already decided on the finale: the ‘1812 Overture’. It would be quite fun to work out the timings of each piece of music so that the canons at the end of the 1812 would coincide with midnight, and the eruption of fireworks outside. This is when I planned to administer a blistering final caning, starting in 2019, and finishing well into 2020.
As soon as I’d chosen the second piece of music, ‘Pictures at an Exhibition’, I returned to the punishment room to administer Robert’s first thrashing of the night. With Bolero blaring into his ears, and the blindfold securely in place, Robert must have been oblivious to the hellstrap being raised over his bare bottom.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
What a shock it must have been for him! His body jerked as the twin tailed leather strap bit into his bare flesh for the first time. I couldn’t stifle a giggle as I unleashed a barrage of six venomous strokes. The music was still pumping out, but now it was accompanied by squealing. His bottom began to writhe deliciously within the confines of his restraints. My hellstrap is very, very stingy, especially when applied briskly and hard.
I waited with Robert until ‘Bolero’ had finished, then put on ‘Pictures at an Exhibition’. I went back downstairs to choose the next piece, then returned to administer the next batch. Robert hadn’t felt the hairbrush for some time, so as Mussorgsky strode solemnly around his late friends art exhibition, I set Robert’s bottom ablaze with my ebony hairbrush.
I had a wonderful evening. Robert and I listened to a glorious selection of music. I tawsed to a waltz, caned to a can-can, and spanked to symphonies.
The final caning was surreal. My timing was perfect. While the canons blasted Robert’s eardrums, and the fireworks glittered, banged and shrieked outside, his bottom writhed in a frenzy as I administered the cane with blistering venom. A perfect start to 2020.