Machine gun

Last week when Mistress stopped by She gave me twenty strokes. Ten were a punishment and ten were for discipline, so She gave them to me in two sets of ten. Each set was fired off like a machine gun, rat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat ,tat, tat, as if swatting a load of flies. One set from one side of the bed, the next from the other.

The strokes still hurt, but the impact of firing them off in this machine gun manner was that no one swing received anything like the attention of power it could have done if it was treated as an individual in its own right.

I was thinking about this yesterday as I anticipated my strokes this morning – ten for cumming without permission, plus whatever else Mistress deemed fit. If I was going to suffer ten for cumming without permission, then since they are going to hurt anyway, my preference would be for them to really hurt, so that I never forget them, and always remember as I approach the possibility of an orgasm that has not been permitted – because then I’ll learn and be a better submissive for my Mistress.

Therefore my preference would be to receive each stroke as an individual work in its own right. Contemplated, aimed, swung and teaching as intended.

I contemplated speaking to Mistress about this. In my mind I discussed with Her the machine-gun approach and how less effective the strokes were, and asked if She did not prefer the idea of landing each stroke separately and painfully. In my mind, I went on to offer the help of my submission towards this end.

If after each stroke I had to say “Thank You Mistress. Please give me another one” then Mistress would have sensible opportunity to pause between strokes. Or, of Mistress did not like this, then She could just pause, contemplate my arse (!), choose where to land the next stroke and lay it on more forcefully.

In my mind Mistress chose to let me thank Her and request another one. In my mind I did this twenty five times as She caned me, and in my mind each stroke bit into my arse like fire, teaching me Her will and refining my submission. My cock grew rock hard at the thought.

But having spoken to Mistress about the frequency of my orgasms so recently I decided not to broach this subject, not wanting to appear to be too critical or suggesting of how She should run me, so I kept my own counsel.

For whatever reason, Mistress chose not to stop by and apply the cane this morning in any event, and so my arse is not smarting in any event.