Looking in the mirror, I watched my face contort when each cut landed. I watched as tears formed in my eyes, and as the salty liquid fell down my cheeks and ran down my chin. I watched as each of the twelve cuts of the whistling implement landed on my bared ass, and how my breasts jiggled beneath me, how my body shook with each strike. I watched my lips as they contorted in an angry grimace, and how my clenched hands gripped the rail.
And yet, for all that I witnessed with my eyes, it was the pain, the sheer torture of the strikes that cut like a knife blade across my skin, that I will not forget. It was the pain I’ll remember most. The way my poor striped bottom was used as a place to remedy my fallen behavior.
After the caning, once Torey allowed me to stand again, I was ordered to loo
