“Executive Retreat, Part 2: Dickie-boy On the Job” – by Steve McHalperin

Chapter 28

The Cane

I guess I was lucky growing up that my step dad never discovered the cane.  We had abundant trees on the farm and a few were willows which, I’m told, make for good switches.  I heard guys talk about getting punished with thorn bush branches, nettles, even rose bush stems.  Caning is actually worse than a lashing with a whip, depending on the type of cane.  Instead of a branch, however, a real cane is the worse.  Branches are supple and can bend to absorb some of the force.  A stiff cane cannot.  The full force is delivered to your skin.  And the thinner the cane, the worse it can be ‘cause a thin cane concentrates the force in a narrow strip of skin.  Sir had the worst cane of all:  a thin, clear plastic rod about three feet long.  The rod had a black plastic handle.  And that’s what Sir was going to use on me tonight.

He held it up in front of me, saying nothing.  I almost threw up my dogfood in fear as my stomach knotted tightly.  My body gave an involuntary shudder when went behind me and started to tap the rod on my ass.  My ass cheeks were super-sensitized from the whip.  I imagined them criss-cross with red welts.  And this was going to be the target of the freakin’ cane. 

He kept tapping my ass, varying the pressure and the timing.  I knew the second He stopped tapping, the real caning would start.  And I was right.

The rod sliced through the air and Sir actually grunted as it hit my ass.  The pain was blinding, like a flash of lightning right in front of you., blood red lightning.  I have never felt that level of pain before; that’s the unique power of the cane, especially when wielded by a Master.  My throat hurt when I screamed the loudest in my poor life and I braced like a nutcase against the chains.

Getting whacked with a paddle produces a wide-spread pain.  It peaks but quickly fades.  A belt behaves the same.  A whip with multiple tails hurts even more as each tail cuts into your skin, but the pain is still spread out.  A single-tail, like Sir had just used on me, really focuses the energy and the pain.  But, like I said, the rod-type cane is absolutely the worst.  Maybe getting branded is worse, but Sir promised that would never happen, so the cane was going to be the ultimate discipline tool for my foreseeable future.

The cane pain peaks like Mount Everest and takes its good ol’ time ramping down to a raw sting.  Tears were streaming from my eyes as my body tried to handle the insane level of torment.  Drool was dripping from my open mouth and I think some snot hung from my nose.  OMG, my ears could have bled for all I knew.  I was panting from lack of air.

Then Sir started the tapping again, and again I shuddered without even willing it.  The tapping was psychological torture leading up to the real thing.  He tapped and tapped and I was going insane with anxiety and fear.  Then He struck.  Another stab of blinding pain from my ass.  I simultaneously screamed and flexed every muscle.  The level of punishment was insane.  I started to wonder if I’d survive.  Sir knew exactly what He was doing and had perfect control over the level of force He was using.  He took me to the peak of agony, but not enough to make me pass out.  That was the diabolical nature of His punishments.  He was a very experienced torturer. 

More tapping.  Did I start to cry?  I’m not sure.  I know I was pleading and begging Him to stop in between screams and gasps for air.  “No, no more, Sir!  Please!  Stop, please, Sir!  I can’t take any more, Sir!” alternated with “:A-a-gh!  AAAAAAGH!” when the cane struck again.  The gag garbled my begging, but not the screams.   

Terry told me later I got six strokes.  I hurt like it was six dozen.  My ass stung like hornets had attacked it, deep, throbbing sting of fire.  It decidedly did NOT ramp down, at least not right away.  The residual pain from a caning is unique; it lasts and lasts. 

Again Sir stood in front of me:  “I think that shook you up a bit, b oy,” He said, again lifting my head up and locking eyes with me.  “Most guys have no idea of what the cane can do.  Now you do,” He added.  “Just so you know, I’ll use the whips and belts a lot.  We’ll save the cane for when you do something really bad.  And I can see from your eyes that you are still willful, still have that little voice in your head that thinks you’ll win this tug of war we are in.  You won’t, I assure you.  I always win.”

He let His words sink in, and then He and Terry headed for the stairs.  He turned to me:  “When I come back, I think you know what’s next,” He leered as they went up the stairs.

I was confused for a few minutes.  My mind was still shattered by the pain.  Then I knew.  another Master fuck.  My shredded ass was going to be abused once again. 

NEXT: Ch 29, Dickie-boy Gets Gut Punched

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