She’d failed to get university assignments in before. But that stripe was the first she’d ever had in her life. It was the first time she’d ever felt the cane.
I’d warned her that I’d cane her if she didn’t get the work done and handed in. But it turned out that the warning wasn’t enough.
She knew there were 11 strokes to go, and that she deserved each and every one of them. But with that first strike, and that first stripe, her life changed.
I haven’t written about this woman often, but her name, for blog purposes, is Arethusa. That really is her first ever cane stripe, and that’s the reason she got it, even though it sounds like a cliché. Her motivation went right up.
In the short term, anyway. She started liking the cane, or at least she liked being-a-girl-who-gets-the-cane because her Master cares, and she liked just-having-been-caned so the slate is clean, and it’s sexy. So it stopped having the same behaviour-modifying effect. Oh well. I helped in other ways.
Anyway, the photo. I took several shots of this moment, because she’d want a record, but I like this one best. She stayed in position, so this is just a few seconds after the stroke. I suppose it’s the way her lovely bottom rises, freshly decorated, with the promise of more: including a change in our relationship.
It represents a new dawn.
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