«It was a strange experience. The first two blows were horrible, but I don’t think I really felt them. I was too out of it. It was like I was so scared I couldn’t bear to experience it. I felt it from a distance. It was like I was a doctor or a scientist studying an experiment and monitoring the results. It wasn’t me, it was just this naughty blonde teenager getting the blow she deserved.
However, as the beating continued, the pain brought me back to reality. Soon, I was crying, writhing in the back of that chair. I clung to my position as if my life depended on it. As for me, that was it: after experiencing the searing pain of one blow from the cane, I knew I didn’t want another. I screamed and gritted my teeth and let out a sort of groan of agony. Tears streamed down my face. Somehow I held on. Somehow I managed to say, “Two, thank you sir, three, thank you sir, four, thank you sir,” and so on. My words weren’t very clear, and sometimes Daddy had to ask me to repeat them, but he was patient, never rushing me.
When Daddy wasn’t cutting with the cane, my bottom just throbbed terribly. I could feel every wrinkle left by the wooden rod, the bumps swelling even as I writhed in pain. Daddy gave me eight strokes, eight extremely hard strokes. The first four or five were the worst, then the pain subsided and the other strokes lengthened the process. I just wanted it to stop and it didn't, the shaft kept going down my ass, cutting me in two.
After the sixth stroke, the pain reached a kind of peak and I felt a kind of peace come over me. It's kind of strange and hard to describe. It's not that it didn't hurt anymore or that I didn't want it to stop (I would have done _anything_ to make it stop), but it was like I was less afraid. It was like I somehow knew I had survived the worst whipping Daddy could give me. I noticed a bulge in Daddy's pants. When he whipped my bare ass Daddy always had a hard cock.
Oh, my poor ass. I'm writing this lying on my stomach, of course, and I'm completely naked. I can't stand having clothes on my whipped ass. I have an ice pack on my ass. Mommy put cream on the marks (which are horrible purple streaks!) and that felt good, but it hurt terribly. I was thinking about Daddy's huge erection. When I think about my severe whipping, it makes me so hot. I can't wait for another spanking from Daddy. On my bare ass, always By Mastercane»
«It was a strange experience. The first two blows were horrible, but I don’t think I really felt them. I was too out of it. It was like I was so scared I couldn’t bear to experience it. I felt it from a distance. It was like I was a doctor or a scientist studying an experiment and monitoring the results. It wasn’t me, it was just this naughty blonde teenager getting the blow she deserved.
However, as the beating continued, the pain brought me back to reality. Soon, I was crying, writhing in the back of that chair. I clung to my position as if my life depended on it. As for me, that was it: after experiencing the searing pain of one blow from the cane, I knew I didn’t want another. I screamed and gritted my teeth and let out a sort of groan of agony. Tears streamed down my face. Somehow I held on. Somehow I managed to say, “Two, thank you sir, three, thank you sir, four, thank you sir,” and so on. My words weren’t very clear, and sometimes Daddy had to ask me to repeat them, but he was patient, never rushing me.
When Daddy wasn’t cutting with the cane, my bottom just throbbed terribly. I could feel every wrinkle left by the wooden rod, the bumps swelling even as I writhed in pain. Daddy gave me eight strokes, eight extremely hard strokes. The first four or five were the worst, then the pain subsided and the other strokes lengthened the process. I just wanted it to stop and it didn't, the shaft kept going down my ass, cutting me in two.
After the sixth stroke, the pain reached a kind of peak and I felt a kind of peace come over me. It's kind of strange and hard to describe. It's not that it didn't hurt anymore or that I didn't want it to stop (I would have done _anything_ to make it stop), but it was like I was less afraid. It was like I somehow knew I had survived the worst whipping Daddy could give me. I noticed a bulge in Daddy's pants. When he whipped my bare ass Daddy always had a hard cock.
Oh, my poor ass. I'm writing this lying on my stomach, of course, and I'm completely naked. I can't stand having clothes on my whipped ass. I have an ice pack on my ass. Mommy put cream on the marks (which are horrible purple streaks!) and that felt good, but it hurt terribly. I was thinking about Daddy's huge erection. When I think about my severe whipping, it makes me so hot. I can't wait for another spanking from Daddy. On my bare ass, always
By Mastercane»