I’m the female product of a marriage between an Indian mother and an English father. My parents divorced when I was seventeen and I stayed with my mother until I was nineteen. I remained at school and got a couple of A-level passes before joining the local office of a major insurance company.
At school, I was nominally a Christian (to my mother’s annoyance). As I grew up, my mother became more and more frustrated by the English culture with its freedom and the free expression permitted to young people. She hated it, never being able to reconcile it with her religion and roots. Eventually, it affected her health, although I didn’t know that then. When I was about sixteen, I wanted to spend a lot more time out with friends. I found myself subjected to what I thought were increasingly restrictive rules.
There had always been quite strict discipline at home, enforced by my mother. My father often tried to ease things and to see me treated in a kindly manner. But my mother, who I know loved me very much, followed her religious and cultural past to determine my treatment. When I was sixteen, unbeknown to me, my mother got a cane from a cleric. One evening I came home later than I had promised from a party at a friend’s house, and my mother was waiting for me in a furious temper.
My dad was out. She ordered me to lie over the arm of the sofa, lifted my skirt, pulled my panties down to my knees, and gave me eight terrible strokes with the cane. It was so unexpected and painful that I could not yell out, as I couldn’t get my breath. When she finished, I was in agony and ran up to my bedroom. A few minutes later, my mother followed and rubbed Aloe Vera into the marks on my bottom. I lay there sobbing for about an hour before I took myself off to the bathroom and inspected the damage, which was severe. There were vivid marks on my bottom, with a little blood oozing from places where the marks crossed over.
I got caned several times after that. I did not run to my dad and complain to him, but when he found me crying in bed, lying on my tummy, and rubbing my bottom, he would cuddle me. Sometimes he took me shopping for clothes, etc. He hated what my mother was doing, and they split up.
Just before they split up, Dad saw cane marks on my thighs. He found the cane, and in a bad mood, broke it up in front of my mum, berating her for treating me like that. I had never seen him so angry. My mum later visited the cleric and got another cane, thicker and heavier this time. It hurt like all hell when she caned me with it.
Over the next three years, I received several more canings like this. I knew that other Indian girls received similar treatment, having seen the unmistakable marks on their bottoms in the showers at school. In my teen years, once the canings started, I knew they were a turn-on, despite the pain.
Masturbation to orgasm about two hours after the caning helped relieve the pain. When I moved in with my friend Sarah, this stopped. I soon ceased to be a virgin, with alcohol as the stimulus leading up to the vaguely satisfactory event. I never got myself a steady boyfriend.
But I knew I missed being caned. I was still friendly with my mother, whom I dearly loved despite it all. I regularly visited her at the weekend when I would see the cane hanging on the hook on the back of the bedroom door. My mum had always made me hang up the cane, ready for use, and to act as a constant reminder to me.
At the local swimming club, I met a slightly older couple. The lady was called Joanna, and her husband was called Robert. Early one evening, by chance, I met Joanna in the town and we went for a quick drink in a local pub.
Joanna was often very submissive when in the company of her husband. She sometimes made excuses about not swimming, as I had done about not doing gym at school just after a caning. I had wondered if her excuses (which did not appear to be on a regular monthly basis) had a similar root cause.
I thought hard about how I could get the conversation around to that sort of area, so I said to Joanna, “I’ve been a bad girl. If I was at home, my mum would sort me out!”
Joanna smiled and asked, “What did your mum do to sort you out?”
I grinned. “Spank me, very hard, right up to age nineteen.”
At that stage, I did not mention the cane.
Joanna was silent for a moment and looked thoughtfully around.
“Robert does that to me if I’ve been naughty and sometimes we just do it.”
What a revelation! Joanna continued, “Would you like me to see if Robert would spank you? It would be a spanking only, of course, and I would have to be there.”
This gave me a surprise, but it seemed to be an offer I couldn’t refuse.
“Wouldn’t you mind?”
“No. Robert loves spanking me and after he has finished with you, it will be my turn and later it will be you-know-what!” and she giggled!
I blushed and was at a loss about what to say next. Joanna sensed my difficulty and took my hand under the table.
“Kamala, I will speak to Robert and work out what to do. When I’m sure of the solution, I will ring you, and we can meet here and I can tell you all about it. We can’t do that on the phone, can we?”
“Oh, you are a dear Joanna. Thank you so much!” I replied.
I didn’t have any reservations, thinking that with Joanna there I would be safe and it would be discrete.
The following Thursday, the phone at work rang late in the afternoon. It was Joanna. She began, “Can we meet tonight after work at the King’s Head?”
“Yes, sure,” I replied quickly, my heart rate going up in anticipation.
We met at the appointed time, and Joanna was smiling sweetly.
“Kamala,” she began, “Robert and I were wondering about what you wanted. Would you like him to do it in the same way as your mother?”
Not expecting this, I thought rapidly, “In for a penny, in for a pound,” looked around and there was no one in earshot.
“Joanna,” I began in a low voice, “When I was sixteen, (hesitating as I tried to pluck up courage), she caned me for the first time and I want to be caned again.”
I put my head in my hands and leaned forward with my elbows on the table, not daring to look at her. She clutched my arm.
“Kamala,” she replied, “That’s what we do all the time and why I sometimes make excuses about not swimming. I don’t want to show off the marks. Are you sure you want that?”
I lifted my head, looked her in the eye, and nodded. “Robert was wondering if that was the case. We’ve got three canes to choose from, a very light short thin one, another cane a little longer, and about the size of a pencil. Robert uses a thicker one on me if it is a punishment caning or if I have been a truly bad girl.”
This was stunning, and I could not have known it would be that easy. “Why don’t you think about it for a few days?” Joanna went on. “When you are ready, let me know and we can talk it over. Take your time. I know what it’s like.”
I was so grateful to Joanna. She was such a dear. After a bit more chat, we parted, and I made my way home. Back there, I sat down in a daze to gather my thoughts. Joanna had guessed right about me. There must have been a sort of intuition between us. I was on the verge of getting what I badly wanted. Over the next few days, I thought long and hard and resolved to get back to Joanna whilst it was still very fresh in her mind.
I was worried about my emotional response because I knew I would cry during and after the caning. Afterward, I needed to be alone to get over it. How was I going to get that over to Joanna?
The following Wednesday, I called Joanna, and she came over to the flat in her car. We went for a drive to a local beauty spot. Sarah was a little curious about what was going on, and I had to take care not to make her jealous, given my developing relationship with Joanna.
Joanna parked the car and said, “Kamala, love, what’s on your mind?”
I bit my lip.
“If it’s even a moderately hard caning, I will cry. After the caning, I need to be alone for a while to have a good cry and get over it.”
Joanna smiled sweetly.
“I thought that might be the case. When it’s over, you can go to bed in the spare room until you feel like coming out, or stay the night if you are sore. If you like, I can come and massage you. Take your time, recover, and feel normal again. I know what it can be like, even though I had been married to Robert for a while, the first time he caned me. Afterward, I just wanted to be alone for a couple of hours.”
I was speechless again. Joanna understood exactly how I felt.
She took my hand and said, “I expect you would like a day or two to get over being caned. Why don’t we do it on a Friday evening, then you have the weekend?”
I had hoped that I could arrange something like that and agreed immediately. A caning on a weekday evening was not a pleasant scenario. I would have to go to work the next morning feeling very sore and in pain when sitting down.
Joanna smiled and said, “How about this Friday at my house at eight pm?” which I accepted like a shot.
This was so exciting that I had trouble sleeping well for the next two days. On Friday, I left work early, went home, and had a shower. In a cute little short skirt, frilly panties, and a lace-edged blouse, I took a taxi round to Joanna’s house, paid the driver, walked up the path, and rang the bell.
Joanna let me in. She was wearing a pair of slacks and a blouse. She took me in her arms and hugged me, leading me through into her living room. Robert was there and shook my hand gently. He asked me if I would like a drink. My heart was beating in double time and I thought a gin and tonic would steady my nerves, so I said as much.
A large gin and tonic appeared quickly. Joanna sat down next to me on the couch and took my hand.
“Kamala, you came ready to be spanked tonight, didn’t you, or have you changed your mind?”
I smiled and shook my head. It was too embarrassing to speak.
“You told us that your mother gives you a hand-spanking before the caning. Robert and I thought that a good idea if you went over my knee, and I hand spanked you first to warm you up. If it’s all a bit much for you, we can leave it at that, or we can move on when you are ready. There’s one thing to consider. If for any reason at all, you want us to stop. You can just say one word, called the ‘safe word’. Can you think of a word that you will say if it is all too much for you?”
I sat there and remembered what I had done when my mum caned me. As a small girl, I had a pet rabbit called Mopsy, of whom I had been very fond. Thinking of Mopsy took my mind off my pain.
“Will ‘Mopsy’ do?”
Joanna grinned and said, “Sure, just say ‘Mopsy’ and we will stop right away.”
I looked shyly at them and plucked up the courage. “Please, could I use the bathroom first? I don’t want an accident if I’m scared?”
(I had peed myself once during an early caning by my mum). Joanna took me upstairs and showed me the bathroom. Getting quickly out of my clothes, I had a pee, and then washed my bottom front and back with a hand-held shower attachment.
After quickly drying myself, I put my skirt back on but left my panties off (I wouldn’t be needing them soon) and went back downstairs. I was ready physically and mentally.
Joanna waited for me to sit down and said, “This house is on a hillside, and at the rear of the house we have what is almost a basement room. It’s relatively sound proof so we use it as our spanking room.
“There are a couple of upright chairs, an easy chair, and a trestle over which you can support yourself. There is a ceiling hook, chain, and spreader to suspend the person being spanked if you like that. I doubt if you are going or want that yet. Would you like to look?”
I was so surprised; Robert and Joanna were really into it in a much bigger way than I had thought. Joanna led the way down the hall and into the “basement” room, which had one high, narrow window on one side.
This window was double-glazed, so the room would be quite soundproof. There were all the items that Joanna had mentioned. A couple of rugs covered the varnished pine floorboards. It was very snug, but quite cool. The canes hung on a rack on the wall and my heart missed a beat as I looked at them.
Joanna looked at me and smiled. “Kamala, shall I sit on one of the upright chairs? It might be an idea to start with me giving you a hand spanking over my knee to warm you up.”
I took off my miniskirt, hung it on the back of a chair, and got over her knee. Joanna gave a little gasp when she saw I was bare bottom!!
Robert was looking on intently.
Joanna gently caressed my bottom and said, “Kamala darling, are you ready?”
“Yes,” I breathed,
The thought of an imminent spanking is an enormous turn-on for me. Joanna began steadily and firmly smacking me, leaving about five seconds between swats. The force steadily increased. It hurt and stung more than I thought it would, and after about twenty swats, hot tears were building in my tightly shut eyes. I was squirming about on her knee. After about thirty swats, I said, “Mopsy.”
Joanna stopped smacking me, and I just lay there for a few moments as the pain receded. I got up and a few little tears were oozing out of my eyes. Joanna stood up, grabbed my hand, and gently pulled me towards her.
I collapsed into her arms and burst into tears! Robert discreetly left. I had a good cry with Joanna patting my back saying, “There, there, I hope I didn’t hurt you too much!”
The pain had died away rapidly, and I just felt so hot! The crying was a great release for me. Wiping my eyes, I said, “No, I just feel like that always. After a spanking, I’ve always cried, and I think it’s perhaps a learned reaction now.”
Joanna looked at me and said, “Are you sure you want to go ahead with the caning?”
I thought for just a second and said, “I will be over that trestle, won’t I? Is there any way you could give me the caning rather than Robert? It’s not right that I do this with your husband?”
Joanna looked at me, put her fingers to her lips, and then said, “Robert ‘switches’ sometimes. I have caned him a few times and I know how to do it. Robert was going to cane you because he is more experienced than I am. If you prefer it, I will cane you.”
“Oh yes, please, I would prefer that.”
“Give me a minute, I will tell him.”
My pussy was twitching in anticipation and fear! Joanna left the ‘spanking room’ and returned a couple of minutes later. She was smiling.
“Robert was relieved. He wasn’t entirely comfortable caning you bare bottom like that. He’s not married to you, is he?” she said and laughed. “Which cane would you like, please?”
I went over to the rack. Three canes were hanging from it. I selected the middle one. It was a little thicker than a pencil and probably about thirty inches long. This was my choice, and I handed it to Joanna. It was like the first cane that Mum used on me, but was not as long or as thick as the cane on the back of the bedroom door at my mother’s house.
Without a word, I arranged myself over the trestle. I had always had a problem with standing up and rubbing frantically between strokes when my mum caned me and I resolved to keep still and just take it this time. I heard Joanna swish the cane in the air and flinched.
“Joanna dear, please, rest the cane on my bottom first and give me a little warning before you hit me with it.”
“OK, darling, I like a little warning, too.”
I gripped the cross-bar that ran just above the feet of the trestle and felt the cane going tap-tap-tap on my bottom.
“Are you ready?” Joanna asked.
“Yes.”
The tapping stopped. I heard the “swish crack,” and a line of fire exploded across my bottom. It was not as hard as I had received from my mother, but it stung and burned. I gasped and jerked but hung on to the crossbar and stayed in place.
