My First Thrashing

Without a thought, I knew that answer and didn't hesitate.

"Yes, Ms. Sims."

"Did you go home and masturbate after your paddling?"

"Yes, Ms. Sims."

"Have you thought about that spanking, since then, Melanie?

"Yes, Ms. Sims."

I felt like an idiot intoning the same answer to each of her questions. I also felt like a supplicant. An acolyte to her domination. It seemed that we might be kindred spirits.

"May I ask a question, Ms. Sims?"

"Of course, Melanie; ask away."

"When you lived in England, did teachers there use a cane for punishment?"

"Other than in private schools, where the tradition still exists, canes have been prohibited for some years now. Pity, really, as there's no more effective tool to bring a naughty boy – or girl – into line."

"Did they use the cane, then, on girls?"

"Indeed they did, and most effectively. Many believe, as I do, that girls are even more in need of regular, strict discipline, than are boys."

"Have you caned girls before?"

"Of course. I keep several canes in my home and there are several girls whose mothers send to me for discipline. I require only that they be of legal age; eighteen or older. I can tell you that I enjoy giving them a proper thrashing."

"How are they able to keep still for such pain?"

"I secure them to a punishment bench so that's not a problem. I always require them to take their thrashing totally nude and I believe that their nakedness adds to their humiliation.

"I believe that humiliation is an important dynamic in teaching a girl obedience and respect.

"You're asking some interesting questions, Melanie. Would you like for me to cane you?"

"Yes, Ms. Sims."

We left the club.

We went to Ms. Sims' house.

Ms. Sims secured me to the punishment bench and paddled me severely; long and hard and way past the point of my tears.

Then, still sobbing from the paddling, I was forced to endure a thrashing with a cane that had me howling, tears streaming down my face, mucus issuing from my nose, and moisture leaking from my pussy.

After she'd finished my caning, Ms. Sims released me from the bench and helped me to a bed where I was able to lay on my belly, regaining my composure after having experienced only the second spanking of my life; both of the spankings at the hand of this woman that I realized I loved.

As I lay there, my lover, as I now thought of her, massaged soothing lotion into my burning and welted bottom.

Her touch wasn't sexual but loving, caressing my bare flesh with a gentle pressure.

Ms. Sims asked me to move in with her and we moved my things the next day. We've been living together for two years now and each weekly thrashing, I believe, strengthens our bond.

I've learned to derive my greatest pleasure licking and suckling on her body. Her breasts, her pussy, her butt crack, her butt hole.

I've come to find these a privilege to pleasure. I've come to accept that both of us enjoy these things even more when my face is covered with tears.