Whipping Redux

One of my favorite things about the lady of the house is that when she has made her mind up, while she will take a little while to reflect, she makes sure that her decisions are put into effect as quickly as possible. She called me up to her sewing room shortly after the conversation I described below and my confession that I had not felt this morning’s whipping really met the need. Hannah took me along to the bedroom.

I knew what to do and, having unlooped my belt, stripped to nothing more than my t-shirt. I knelt on my belt, wrists at my ankles. Hannah fetched her cane and, as she cinched the belt tight and put me in position said, “You are quite right. You were not properly punished this morning. You were deliberately deceitful.” Now her hand was swatting my bottom. “What you should have done,” her hand stopped and I braced myself for the cane, “is to have been honest, (crack), and brought home the right receipt (crack, crack). You could have confessed then and there and I would have dealt with you.” The cane fell on the words, “confessed”, “then”, “there”, “would” and “dealt”. But now Hannah stopped talking and really got to work. Have a dozen more strokes were delivered quite quickly.

Hannah paused. I heard her step back, presumably to judge progress. But my whipping was not over. With just a little more force Hannah delivered another dozen strokes. Four or five strokes in I began to struggle a little against the belt, and by the last two or three I was vocalizing at each stroke. I honestly to not know how many strokes I received, I suspect Hannah has no idea either. I was in a beautiful submissive high as I felt the belt loosen around my wrists.

“Now,” said Hannah, “Take off your shirt and get into position. I rushed to comply and, in a few moments received my lady’s gift as I made my most intimate submission.

I was in my place, a man in my position.

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