I was shaking hard and asked if I should put a shirt, or something, on. She said that while I might be cold, at least part of the shaking was a reaction to my punishment and that we should take a break. I was profoundly grateful to hear that my punishment, at least this phase, was actually over, although I was apprehensive about what she had in store for me after the break. She turned the heat on (she had a very noisy space heater) and got me a blanket. I wrapped myself up and sat on the couch with my head resting on her shoulder, shaking all over, while I relaxed and began to recover. I tried not to think about what might happen next. I rested like this for a long time until the shaking had mostly subsided.
We talked. Time passed, nearly an hour. And then the amazing part started—the transformation. I didn’t realize it until she said it was all over.
J- said that in her judgment I had taken enough for one night and we'd save the cane for another day. You’ll recall that perhaps an hour earlier I was in torment, begging her to stop punishing me.
Now I wanted more. I wanted the cane.
Something had happened; it was as if a switch had been thrown, as if I had a new relationship with pain. I can’t find words to describe or explain this, but it was real. I not only wanted more pain, I particularly wanted to feel the cane, although I knew that it would probably, once again, be more than I could endure.