Resolve

A choice: don't do this thing or do it and get the cane.

And it won't be the nice cane I've met before either. It'll be more of the wicked caning that I received on Saturday for doing this same thing. "A sample", he called it. It was a sample that left a half dozen stripes across the bottom of my cheeks -- now gone but the memory of their raised fury remains. It was enough of a taste to know that I don't want the full course.



If I do it, I will confess. That is the way with us. And then it will happen just as he told me it would.

"No," I will whisper.

He will order me over the foot of the bed, without warm-up, without the comfort of restraints. He will order my panties down, will watch as I struggle to obey, will instruct me to keep my bottom high and my arms stretched out in front.

And then I will see him, standing slightly to my side, my eyes pleading with his as I watch his arm rise.

"No," I will whisper again. "Please," I will say, "I won't do it again. I promise."

In response, the cane will slice through the solemn air to bite my bottom with its licking venom.

And again. And again. He will do this six times, in rapid succession, before I can absorb the full impact of the burn. And then I imagine I will sob as the pain begins to come, pleading for it to be over, vowing that I will never do this thing again. I will try to stand but he will push me back down, swatting my hands away as they instinctively attempt to rub out the fire.

Then he will begin again. I do not want to imagine the second set of six. But I know that I will have difficulty finding my breath, difficulty staying put. No I do not want this. I want to be spanked and held on his lap; I want to skip this part and be forgiven.

Will this be necessary? Will this happen? I hope that writing this post and revisiting it will lend me enough willpower to prevent the preventable, to strengthen my resolve to avoid a session with a cane like he has described.

I will not do this thing. I will not. I will not.