I was not abnormally sensitive to pain, and took the occasional hair brushing applied to my bare bottom by my Father, unhappily, but stoically.
Those spankings however, were as moonlight is to sunlight, or as water to wine, in comparison to that caning.
The caning was fearsome, and I did fear it very, very much after those four strokes. I tried to do nothing that would open me to the risk of an encore.
The memory of the pain I suffered lingers to this very day. The thought of what six would be like leaves me with a shudder.
I simply cannot understand those that refer to their canings as mere inconveniences.
Anybody who describes the cane, forcefully and diligently applied, as anything other than the most awful and agonising torture, has either never received it at all, or is prevaricating for some
reason.