caning – Page 11 – Contemplating the divine

Unreasonable force

He’s a lucky guy.

Planet Femdom, of course. If you like statuesque ladies brutally dominating… well, that bloke mostly. I do, actually. Rather a lot.

Cruelty-free farming has its downsides. Still, I’m glad she found a solution.

Oh dear. Another of those painful conversations.

Actually, the story is rather simple. The post of office tampon boy was advertised, so he studied, and prepared and pulled every string he knew of to get it. But wouldn’t you?

Try not to take it too badly. Just because you’ll be spending the rest of your life alone, in poverty, with your empty days filled only with the longing for her doesn’t mean you have to be miserable. It just makes it very, very likely.

Timing is everything

So I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to try out Graham’s invention. Of course, you can’t see, because it’s behind you and you’re strapped so very tightly across the whipping block. But back there, the mechanical arm holding the cane is fully retracted, so the machine’s ready to strike. When it does, the electric motor drives a small wheel into rapid motion, increasing tension for a second or two, before the arm is released and the cane lashes across your bottom.

It’s that little delay that makes it work, actually. Poor old Graham kept on trying and trying to propel the arm immediately to make the stroke, but you can never get enough force to get it to lash at the speed you need for a proper impact. It took him ages to find a solution. I was getting quite frustrated actually – he was probably getting more strokes from me manually than he was testing each day on the machine. But that delay lets the speed build up and then – whoosh, and it cracks across your buttocks. So you’ll hear a little whir for a second or so, before you hear the cane whistling through the air. I’ve asked him to work on that whirring sound – it would be better if there weren’t any warning. I’m sure he’ll be able to sort it out, with the right encouragement from me. Still – it canes hard and that’s the main thing.

So after the stroke it winds back again, going a little bit up or down so it doesn’t keep caning the same spot. Graham himself suggested that little feature, actually, after the first time I tried it on him. Twelve on exactly the same spot makes you ever so sore. He started work on the vertical motion straight away after that! Anyway, I can set it to go steadily up or down, or just let it go randomly.

Oh, you’ll find out. The pattern should be clear by stroke three or four or so.

I’m so pleased with this. I mean, I’m not going to stop caning boys manually, obviously! But sometimes it’s nice just to hand the job over. And there’s something quite relentless and brutal about being caned by a machine… the way it just keeps going, no matter what you say or how piteously you cry or scream. I mean, so do I of course, but boys still always start making a fuss after a while, in the hope that I’ll go easy on them. Boys can be so stupid. Well, this machine takes that hope away.

You look worried! No…maybe worried isn’t the right word. You look terrified. Well, so you should. You’re getting twelve, good and hard – and I’ve already programmed them in. Nothing you can do.

But you know, I haven’t told you about the cruellest feature yet. Do you want to know?

I can programme the speed. It can go at any speed I like. So what do you think is about to happen, hmmm?

What?

No. Oh for goodness’ sake. You boys are so unimaginative. You think that the worst thing I could do to you is to make it go as fast as possible? Twelve strokes in quick succession – THWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACK?

Well, it could do that. And obviously that would be sheer hell – it would certainly make you scream. But that’s not what I’ve done. Quite the opposite. Can’t you guess?

Between now and – oh about nine o’clock tonight – you’ll receive twelve strokes. It’s just gone noon, so that’s about one every 45 minutes. But they won’t come regularly. The intervals have been set to be random – anything between 30 seconds and two hours. You will get all twelve – you can depend on that. But you’ll never know when the next one’s coming, as you wait there hour after hour. Until you hear that little whir anyway… then you have a second or so to brace yourself. It’ll be so much better when Graham’s sorted that out…

Yes, you see? I thought you would. It’s much worse than getting twelve all at once, isn’t it?

Do you think the randomness makes it worse? I wasn’t sure about that. I like the thought that you’ll be on edge for all of that time, never knowing when – or precisely where – the next stroke will land. But on the other hand, it might be nice some time to try spacing them evenly – say, one every hour. And you could have a clock in front of you, watching the seconds counting steadily down. Or no clock, and you’d be frantically estimating whether the hour is nearly up. Maybe we’ll try that next time.

Hmm? Oh, we’ve already started. I switched it on about five minutes ago. Every five minutes you have about a one in nine chance of a stroke. It could have happened already. But it didn’t. It will, though. That’s certain: you’ve still got all twelve to go. It could happen any second… or not for almost two hours… it’s just up to that little microchip. Out of my control anyway, and certainly out of yours.

Hmm? Yes, I know it’s cruel. I am.

Anyway, it’s not much of a spectator sport, so I’m going to go about my day and leave you to it. Don’t worry, I’m not leaving the house, so I’ll be able to hear you scream from time to time. You’ll be quite secure here, though. And if you start to feel thirsty – and I think you will, if you keep sweating like that, or if you start crying – just remember that it’s supposed to be a punishment and you deserve it.

See you.

Oh – you know, I just had a thought. Maybe instead of designing out the little whirring sound, Graham could design it in! So that – I don’t know – about five times out of six or so, there’s the sound but no stroke. Wouldn’t that be fun? I’ll have to have a word with him.

Enjoy the rest of the day.

The lady here is of course the formidable and beautiful (and formidably beautiful) Mistress Cassie Hunter, The Hunteress. Visit her web site if you’re feeling interested and want to see more, visit her in person if you’re feeling guilty and need to suffer.

You can get more with a harsh word and a whip

… than you can with just a harsh word. To misquote Al Capone.

And perhaps not. It really doesn’t have any say in the matter anyway.

I wonder what’s in the box?

Very practical.

Anyway, it’s not really a problem if he does suffocate: she’ll still come.

She has my attention already.

Servitor says: new widget! Try the new lucky dip feature, over to the right there.

Words of discomfort

And of course, you do. It’s a question of how much you want it. Or rather, how much she does.

It’s good that he feels he can get these things out in the open. And good, as well, that she feels she can beat the shit out of him if he does.

Who’d have guessed?

…and then?

You mustn’t assume from this that they cruelly starve all their slaves to death, because that’s just not true. Some they fatten up for slaughter.

Fatale attraction

Normal service is now resumed. And I can use the letter ‘i’ and everything.

Impalas! Intrepid! Vicissitude! Inimitable! Mississississississipipipipitipie!

Oh god, that felt good.

On we go.

It’s not a good idea to make her cross.

That’s right, Dave. Stand up for yourself, mate.

Oh, it’ll be OK. Everyone has to start somewhere. Big whip, huh? Small room…

I asked my SO for a regular date to be fixed for my masturbation day. She chose 29th February.
She can be cruel like that.

Yeah, don’t beat yourself up about it. That’s her job.
(joke copyright the Addams Family movie. It’s better when Angelica Houston says it.)

The four stages

It is a well known fact that the development of any skill passes through four stages. Let me illustrate:

1. Unconscious incompetence

The individual does not understand or know how to do something and does not necessarily recognize the deficit.

They may deny the usefulness of the skill.

The individual must recognise their own incompetence, and the value of the new skill, before moving on to the next stage.

The length of time an individual spends in this stage depends on the strength of the stimulus to learn.

2. Conscious incompetence

Though the individual does not understand or know how to do something, he or she does recognize the deficit…

…as well as the value of a new skill in addressing the deficit

The making of mistakes can be integral to the learning process at this stage.

… and then apparently there’s another two stages, but I have never got beyond conscious incompetence. I’m really good at that, as regular readers of the blog will know.

Frankly, Mistress, spank me

The title of course, yet another attempt to gain a veneer of artistic respectability by quoting someone with talent, in this case The Smiths.

The song speaks to me, though, and especially this line:
I didn’t realise you wrote such bloody awful poetry

No poetry today, you’ll be pleased to hear. Onward, with feeling:

I’m not sure what this caption is on about, to be honest. All lesbian couples look like this, don’t they? It must be true – the Internet sez so.

Keeps you fit. Very good for your health. Until she reaches five, anyway.

One day I’ll meet someone who appreciates me just for what I am – a pathetic, desperate and unattractive loser who’ll willingly hand over cash for a brief moment of pretence that I am otherwise.

The lovely Princess Kali, being lovely as ever.

Just another attempt to make some positive use of the flood of male-dom pictures swirling around and polluting our beloved Internet.

Locked in abasement

It’s where you’ll usually find me. If you can be bothered to look.

Chastity femdom picture that kind of thing

She feels your pain. But not quite as much as you do.

Caning femdom picture that kind of thing

It’s supposed to look like that. But then – you’re supposed to be caned, too.

Let’s hope it’s not a third six. It can happen, though. I once rolled a huge pile of dice and almost all of them came up six. I can’t remember exactly how many, but it was at least seven of nine.

You wouldn’t think dommes would be so indecisive, would you?

At least one of these magnificent ladies is the awesome* Madame Sarka, formerly of the OWK and now of herself. If any ‘readers’ can help identify the other lady, I will be grateful.

One art critic described her work as ‘a joyful celebration of life, movement and freedom’, which is rather ironic, when you think about it.

* When I use the word ‘awesome’ it should be understood in its original sense, meaning ‘inspiring awe’, rather than it’s modern sense (pronounced ‘ossom’) meaning ‘quite good’.

Forensic examination

Ah, Mr Sandwick. How are you feeling?

Yes, well no bones were broken, fortunately.

It was a nasty crash, though. You had bruises all over.

Now – we’re going to need your help with something. The police need us to put together a full report on the injuries you sustained, so they can determine what happened in the crash. Obviously, your chin got that horrible gash as the dashboard crumpled upwards, and there are bruises around your shoulder, where you jarred against the seatbelt…

…but there’s some quite severe and sustained bruising on your buttocks that we’re trying to understand.

Any thoughts?

No, well I suppose you were losing consciousness at the time. Not really fair to expect you to remember! I just thought, maybe…

Only…it’s odd, because there are two quite distinct patterns of bruising, on your buttocks and upper thighs. The majority of the bruises – and we think these were sustained first – are consistent with some sort of heavy, but soft and flexible object repeatedly impacting your buttocks horizontally. Like – I don’t know. Maybe like a leather or a rubber belt. But probably heavier than a normal belt. Was there anything like that in your car that could have caused your injuries? Maybe a fan belt from the engine, next to the driver’s seat? I mean, it seems unlikely it could whip about repeatedly like that, but…

No? No, well that’s what the police said too. Very hard to understand.

And then there are some really nasty bruises from something long and straight and thin – six of them, almost perfectly evenly spaced across your buttocks, starting on the upper thighs and going up. Those look very sore. I expect you can still feel them when you sit down. Any thoughts how those might have happened? It was probably after the first lot of bruises. Oh – and we’re pretty sure your buttocks were probably stretched taut at the time of the impact. As if you were doubled up… or bent over.

No? Well, it is a mystery, isn’t it? We’ve been discussing it, here on the ward, and none of the doctors or nurses can make head or tail of it. Everyone’s fascinated. Quite the little medical mystery – just like a TV show!

Do try to remember, though, if you can. We’ve been wondering if you might – perhaps – have been doing something before you got in the car, that caused you to sustain these bruises? Some kind of activity that might have involved the kind of repeated impacts that I just described?

No? Can’t think of anything at all? Oh well.

Only the other car’s driver is disputing liability for all of the injuries, you see. So I expect you’ll be asked about it as a witness in the court case. In court. Under oath.

What’s that? Oh good lord, no, you can’t just drop charges now, I’m afraid Mr Sandwick. The insurance companies are involved, and they’ll want to make sure they’ve got to the truth.

Anyway, I need to take some photos. If you could just pop your pyjama trousers down? That’s right. And if you wouldn’t mind – it’s better if you stretch a bit, so it’s easy to see everything. So if you could stand here – that’s right – and then bend over with your bottom up in the air. That’s right. Don’t worry about the pyjama bottoms, down there around your ankles is fine.
Ooops! Silly me – I forgot the camera. You just wait in that position. I won’t be a moment. If anything jogs your memory about what might have happened, you will say, won’t you? Only it’s probably better now, than in court.

School bullying

Scenes from Servitor’s so-called life part 2 (of rather too many).

I guess it won’t surprise regular readers of this blog to learn that I was bullied at school. It was rather traumatic actually, still something I can’t really face properly when I look back upon it. There was this gang of older girls at break-time, and they’d take my lunch money, and beat me up, and pull my trousers down and spank me… and all sorts of frankly quite sexual humiliations. Then one day they refused to take the lunch money any more, so it all had to stop. They never told me why, never told me what had changed. A heartbreaking moment.

SNIFF!

OK, on with the therapy.

You’d think that having biology teacher as their test subject would have helped, but he never made one useful suggestion the whole time. Just cried, and pleaded – that sort of thing. Very disappointing.

They later got married! True story.

Oooo! Do you think they’re planning some sort of surprise for him? What fun!

I used to find these big decisions really difficult, so it’s great not being allowed to take them any more.

A new femdom fetish meme: dommes feeling humiliated. Really, you don’t want to stand too close to one.