J- had said, “No more,” but I pleaded with her to reconsider, saying that at least she could give me one stroke with the cane. And I asked her to tie me up for it. I was thinking to myself that one stroke would probably be more than enough, and would enable me to at least have felt a taste of the famous implement.
J- agreed to give me “at least one stroke”—and to tie me up.
She put a pillow on top of an armchair and had me bend over it, then stretch my arms forward. She put cuffs on each wrist and tied them together behind a concrete support pillar. I asked her to hit me hard and she promised to do so. So somehow, in the aftermath of more agony than I thought I could endure, I was ready, and in fact eager, for more suffering. Please don’t ask me to explain this.
I waited. I felt the cane tap my butt lightly as she measured the distance. There was a pause.
Then I heard the “whirr” and felt the cane stroke. It was a solid slap, and it hurt, enough to make me gasp, but it wasn't incredibly painful the way I had expected. There was a pause and I thought she would probably untie me, although there was always the chance she was going to give me a second stroke for good measure.
Suddenly I felt another stroke cutting into my sore flesh—pure pain bloomed brightly again. Then a third. It was rapidly getting much worse—now it was incredibly painful. The cane came down again and again and I held my head in my hands, gasping and moaning with each stroke. After a while I was kicking my feet and shaking my bottom and yelling in pain and begging again “It hurts too much! It hurts too much!”
J- ignored my pleas and continued my punishment. It went on and on.
Finally she stopped; I lay there, gasping and panting hard. She put the cane down and untied my wrist cuffs. I was shaking again, my bottom was on fire, and I do not know where my next comment came from, but what came out of my mouth was this: "I'm not sure, but I think that might have wonderful." She replied, "Well, it was wonderful for me."