Caning A Perfectionist

Kaelah took it into her head that she wanted some nice marks on her bottom, so she invited Ludwig to give her a dozen strokes.

“But not too hard, I am not used to being caned anymore at all!” I told Ludwig. Yes, I still try to top from the bottom. But it’s the same with Ludwig, so he doesn’t mind. When the first medium severe stroke hit my bottom, I wasn’t so sure anymore whether the cane had been the right choice.

While the pain might not have been as stingy as the pain from a whippy peeled cane, it still burned and it went deep into the muscles because of the heaviness of the cane. I shared my observation with Ludwig. Obviously he found it interesting, because he immediately continued testing the effect of the cane. Ouch! I gritted my teeth and hissed and moaned myself through the next strokes. I went on tiptoes, bent my knees and wriggled my bottom in a vain attempt to cope with the nowadays so unfamiliar pain. The strokes weren’t too severe, but the pain definitely was enough for me!

When the last stroke came, Ludwig of course had to make that one harder than the previous ones. At that stage I was already sweating. I tried to prepare myself as good as possible for the final stroke and then I heard a swish and a crack and the cane hit target for the last time. It ignited one more line of fire on my rear end and I buckled and wriggled in order to relieve the pain.

But now we get to the part where we learn that caning a perfectionist has its extra pleasures. Because when Kaelah looked in the mirror, it wasn’t enough:

Then I took a look in the mirror – and realised that there was still a gap between the strokes on the upper half of my bottom and the ones on the lower half. Plus, except for the last one, the red lines weren’t as much visible as I had hoped them to be. With my light skin I tend to get pale red lines only directly after a caning, unless it has been really quite hard. The marks easily turn blue later, though.

A looked at the mirror for a moment and handed the cane back to Ludwig. “The gap needs to be closed and I need some more clearly visible marks,” I explained. “Well, it was just twelve strokes, I can’t cover your whole bottom with that,” Ludwig replied. He then complied with my request and focused his attention on the still white part of my bottom. After a few more strokes, he had managed to close the gap.

The pain was still strong, but it had become bearable since I was warmed up by now. So I was ready to take a few more severe strokes as well to round up the picture so to speak. I figured that since I had already taken so much pain in order to get a nice picture, I could take a bit more. Ludwig remarked something about me being a real masochist, but was of course happy to satisfy my wish. And so he gave me a final bunch (was it six?) of more severe strokes that imprinted clearly visible marks on my now already very red rear end.

I made it through those as well, driven by my declared intention to get the marks that I wanted. I was glad when it was finally over, though. It had been my most intense spanking for quite some time and it had been obvious that I wasn’t used to the pain anymore at all. A look in the mirror made up for it, though, because there I saw the marks I had wanted to see. Clearly visible dark red tramlines covering my whole bottom.

Isn’t it fun when everybody gets exactly what they want?

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