It has been four months since I was last able to cane my collared slave. It’s time to place my mark on him again. I will not be going easy on him. We have time to make up for.

Wearing a crisp white blouse, jodhpurs, leather gloves and riding boots, I have him secured tightly to my spanking bench. He won’t be going anywhere.

I have selected my prized smoked reformatory cane for his caning. I adore how it feels in my hand and the extra weight that it carries will cause him additional pain. I’ve been missing this.

As I prepare to make up for lost time, he prepares hi...

It has been four months since I was last able to cane my collared slave. It’s time to place my mark on him again. I will not be going easy on him. We have time to make up for.

Wearing a crisp white blouse, jodhpurs, leather gloves and riding boots, I have him secured tightly to my spanking bench. He won’t be going anywhere.

I have selected my prized smoked reformatory cane for his caning. I adore how it feels in my hand and the extra weight that it carries will cause him additional pain. I’ve been missing this.

As I prepare to make up for lost time, he prepares himself by slowing down his breathing. The first stroke lands. Hearing his moans puts a smile on my face. That feels good.

After 10 strokes he has his stripes back. But I’m not finished. By the time we reach 30 strokes I am really enjoying myself. I order him to stick his bottom out, presented proudly for his Mistress for another set of 10 blisteringly painful strokes.

“Let’s take it up to 50,” I say, the skin already torn from his bottom. He prepares himself for the final onslaught of the gift of his Mistress and her cane.