The caning has just ended, or at least paused; I have no way of knowing which. On this occasion, each and every stroke has been a real challenge but now I can breathe deeply, trying to soak up the pain, to absorb it and be ready for whatever comes next.
You might look at this picture and imagine her soothing and stroking my bruised backside. That’s not it at all. Her fingers are probing deep into the marks left by the cane. She’s hurting me again and I know why: she wants to feel the damage to the flesh underneath the bruises, the hardening the heavy strokes will have caused beneath the skin.
I think she’ll feel a little proud that she caused that.
Just as I feel a little proud that I allowed her to.
More, though perhaps less bruised, sin here: