So I almost asked for more – though I never did. Perhaps I feared that if the authorities knew how much I got out of being caned, they would find some other punishment.

Among the cane’s refined pleasures is the sound it makes – the whirring swish as the caner prepares to use it – perhaps wanting to try our several before making a choice – and of course the delicious sound that comes just before it bites into naked flesh.

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