I have sessioned with my Manchester Mistress many many times and I was always reluctant to take a caning, in spite of Mistress Helena’s frequent, indeed insistent, urging.
Pain has never much appealed to me.
I always sought pleasure in my beautiful Mistress’s hypnotic nylons and delicious shoes.
But on this occasion my Manchester Mistress was even more persuasive than previously.
Before I knew it I was bent over my own couch, naked as the day I was born, completely submitting to the whim of the Manchester Mistress Helena.
“Take it like the BITCH that you are” she commanded.
I was in no position to argue!!
She began fairly gently, but made me thank her after each stroke.
Then, in addition, she made me count each lash.
I noticed they began to get harder. And harder.
My threshold of pain is not particularly high and fairly soon I began whimpering.
It was not long before I was standing up after each stroke, clutching my ass in agony, and grimacing in acute pain.
This merely amused Mistress.
I was hoping my actions would evoke in her a modicum of sympathy.
That was a forlorn hope at best.
I did not detect any pity, empathy or regard for my suffering.
Quite the contrary; it encouraged my Mistress to increase her efforts.
She patronizingly stroked my face and said I was ready for more.
Before I could agree or disagree I was over her knee once again, pleading for Mistress Helena to lessen up on me.
Not surprisingly this fell on deaf ears and the intensity increased exponentially.
I was crying out after each stroke, to the point of pleading and begging my Manchester Mistress to let up.
What a complete waste of time!
Mistress Helena made me realize that I had to accept my punishment, that I deserved it, that it pleased Mistress, and, really, that is all that matters.
My feelings are really secondary to those of my Mistress.
I understand and accept this now.