Thankfully he didn’t tell me to drop my pants. Just took me by the shoulders, turned me round to face the door. and I bent over and presented my bottom to him for whatever punishment he decided I needed. He would decide. And he would punish. The waiting for that first stroke. The agonizing pain and the certainty that more were to follow. That awesome swishing noise that preceded each stroke, the sound of the cane whacking stretched trouser seat and then the pain, that awful burning.

Log in with your credentials

Forgot your details?