As you know I recently had an experience with M where we met with friends of his in Austin. He requested I write about it here. Gulp.
Alex’s fingers were nimble as they unbuttoned my shirt. Even as outwardly calm as she appeared I knew that she was as nervous as I was. I read her look when He told her to undress me. I was wearing what He asked me to wear. A skirt, a white button up the front shirt and white knee socks and panties. I cursed the eight buttons holding the tightly woven cotton together as she struggled to undo my buttons and I struggled to avoid her eyes.
He was behind me, I could feel him watching us. I had that telling tingle across my skin, not quite a chill as the room was quite warm but an innate awareness of his eyes on me. I could tell that he was absorbing how uncomfortable I was, how internally I fought her hands on me. I will never get used to that, I will never like having other people witness my humiliation. M likes this.
Once the shirt was gone he asked her to remove my bra. She commented on how cute it was and we exchanged a ‘girl’ look that said I’ll tell you where I bought it later. I relaxed a bit. I stood in just my skirt, knee socks and the simple white panties M had asked me to wear. Shamefully I could feel myself moist and damp between my legs. My nipples hardened and I could tell all eyes were on me, I couldn’t look anywhere but at the floor and at M. When my eyes met his they were filled with what I can only describe as a gentle hotness, did I ever tell you that his eyes get darker when he is turned on.
He didn’t need her any longer and she returned to the couch where L sat with her husband, Max. Max attempted to meet my gaze so many times but I couldnt look at him. M allowed me to stand for a few minutes in front of everyone, enjoying my shame. Enjoying that my modesty, that he feels is so misplaced, brought me such discomfort. As I stood there they made idle conversation, I could comprehend some of it, most of it sounded like white noise over the red heartbeat echoing in my head. He told me to go to the corner and for a second I craved the security of being put there. Hands on my head, legs open, by now I know what pleases Him. M threw me a curve. “Hold your skirt up.” I realized instantly he was serious and part of me was thrilled, is anything more naughty than standing in the corner holding up your little skirt as you wait for a punishment? The rest of me was terrified as I instantly realized if I held my skirt up everyone would see everything. Yet, I obeyed Him and lifted the fabric from both sides. I felt the coolness on the back of my thighs and the heat on my face from the embarrassment of what he asked me to do. I heard his voice again. “Would you mind pulling her panties down, please?” I heard the shuffle of her clothing as she stood and then felt her hands on either side of my hips. With a soft tug Alex pulled my panties down so they hung right at my mid thighs. I stood with my skirt lifted, my panties half way down and my face bright red. I could feel my hand shake, my fingers were damp with nervousness and I could feel the room slightly shift.
After another minute his touch on my arm centered me. He led me to the table and told me to bend over. I did so and M flipped my skirt up across my naked bottom, my panties between my knees now from the awkward shuffling walk from the corner to the table. Leaving me there the trio admired the cane that He was passing around, they also admired me as I stood trembling, humiliating and waiting bent over the table. I wished M would hurry and get it over with, the waiting makes it so much worse, doesn’t it? I wanted him to cane me now before he realized how excited I was, before he decided to touch me to check for himself. He had warned me before that I should not get excited when he was punishing me. Easier said than done.
If only He had touched me! Instead he asked her to do it, he told them I wasn’t supposed to be enjoying this and would she mind checking for him to see if I was. I held my breath and hoped she would decline, she didn’t. I braced myself for L’s touch and when it came it was quick and soft and was little more than a comforting brush. It was her words that would cause the most damage. She confirmed what He already knew. I turned my head towards him to see his reaction and he stood and shook his head slightly, his scolding voice reminding me that I wasn’t to enjoy this, that my punishment would be extra hard, that I should brace myself.
M asked her to count the strokes. I was to receive 12 strokes, six and then time in the corner and then six more. I almost stopped breathing. This was a cold caning, no warm up what so ever and I knew it was going to be bad. It was a new cane, thinner than before and M told me to expect more of a sharp sting and less of a thud. He was right and the first six strokes were sharp and deep and I struggled to hold position, I could feel a small puddle of sweat from my exertion form under my breasts as I lay naked across the table. I jumped with every stroke and the bit deeply into my skin. I couldn’t tell if it was my breath that caught or someone else who was just as shocked by the intensity of the caning. It was harder, I think the hardest he has ever given me. I am able to take a hard caning as long as he doesn’t ask me to count the strokes. If M is quiet and allows me to be -I am able to drift away into the sweet sub space that so far only the cane can do. After stroke three I was there and the pain spiraled around my body snapping and strong but it melted into my skin at the same time like a languid calming fire.
Part of me was disappointed when M stopped, I was pulled out of my little space when they jokingly argued about the amount of strokes I was still due. Apparently the handsome gentlemen felt as if a stroke had been missed and because I (stupidly) chimed in and agreed that Alex had correctly counted and that He was wrong I earned extra strokes.
Lesson One- *Never argue with one’s Master.
Lesson Two- *Never, Never, Never, Never argue with one’s Master when he is holding a cane and has an audience.
Anyway, so somehow my 12 stroke caning turned into 21 or 22 strokes depending on who you ask. After receiving my extra strokes I was sent back to the corner after M asked L to remove my panties the rest of the way. He asked her to check me yet again and see if I was more excited than before and of course being as honest as she is she told the truth, I was. I was surprised by how real the embarrassment was that I felt and I was even more humiliated for having been scolded for speaking without permission. M asked L to come around to the other side of the table and hold my hands because the final strokes would be worse. She did so and I thought it would help until Max told her to look me in the eye the entire time. As if he knew that forcing her to do taht would force me to feel the full sting of the cane without the luxury of slipping into subbie space heaven.
The final strokes were harder and I felt as if I couldn’t take anymore. I do not think He realizes how I am impacted by the cane because I am able to handle it so well. It is only afterwards when I have that stunned, hot/cold feeling that I am able to absorb what I just subjected myself to. The final stroke is always the hardest and I squeezed L’s hands so hard….I hope I didn’t hurt her. I heard his voice remind me to breath after that last stroke. I struggled to steady myself as I was overcome with relief that it was over. I was to be a hort lasting relief — I heard M offer the cane to Max. He was to have a turn.
WHAT!! I was shocked that he would offer me to someone else for a caning, especially after what he had just given me. I knew better than to argue, I only pleadingly looked up at him. He gave me the turn around and don’t you dare argue with me look. Max looked almost apologetic as he prepared to cane me. M announced I was due two extra strokes….not sure if He gave a reason. He does not require one. His strokes were gentle almost compared to M’s but the bite was undeniable especially as raw as I already was.
As hard as the caning was the hardest part of submitting on this day was when M allowed Alex and Max to touch and admire the marks of the cane. I stood naked in front of them, my back to them while M watched. Nothing quite so submissive as being forced to stand naked in front of strangers while your M talks about your body as if it isn’t your own, to have Him grant permission to others so that they may touch you. A stark reminder that you belong to Him and that you willingly stand there and submit to His desires until you forget to wonder how or why this need is so strong.