The Making of a Masochist

What choice did I have? I nodded.

"Good. I had a teacher at school who always used to make us wait a week before we were caned, She told us anticipation was better than realisation. This was of course untrue. Imagining the pain is nothing like the reality of it. On Wednesdays at three o'clock the house is always empty. We will be alone in the birching room where I will tie you over the block and you and this cane will become reacquainted. I think you understand why you will need to be tied. I assume you don't want any extra strokes for not staying still although I advise you to watch your mouth."

She rose from the chair and stood for a moment. "Come to see me the Monday before. I will sign a note exempting you from sports that Wednesday afternoon. We're finished for now. Goodnight."

Then she was gone.

I was alone. My buttocks both burned and throbbed and for the second time that night, I stood in front of the mirror and inspected the damage. Now, superimposed on the marks of the birch, there were five parallel rope-like welts with a further welt superimposed diagonally across them, and I wondered how these would heal before my next punishment. Then I lay in bed and felt my swollen, hot, ridged bum with my hand and wondered what Natalie's bum must look and feel like after the punishment that she had received. A little later I was asleep.

***

I woke late on Saturday morning and missed breakfast. My bum cheeks still hurt, particularly if I sat, but I didn't mind because it served as a reminder of what had happened the previous evening and what was to come in two and a half weeks.

My mind replayed the events of the night before and things became clear to me. I was a masochist. I had welcomed the caning that Matron had delivered and would welcome the dozen more that she had promised me. Even though I feared them, my penis grew hard at the thought of them, and I reached down and started to stroke. As my pleasure grew I thought of Matron. I now knew that she would have enjoyed watching my birching. She had enjoyed caning me and I was sure was looking forward to delivering a more severe punishment in two weeks. She had told me herself that she enjoyed doing it and her proficiency was undeniable.

I need not have worried about my bottom healing. On the Monday morning before my appointment with the cane, I went to see Matron during sick calls. She examined my bottom which showed only faint residual marks from the cane and declared herself satisfied. It all seemed a little perverse; a little like making sure that a condemned man is well..... Before you hang him.

Two days later I was tied down over the birching block for the second time in under a month and Matron eagerly and energetically applied the cane to my bare buttocks for the second time.

It took her just a few minutes to carve twelve overlapping ridges into my arse and make me vainly howl for her to stop what she was doing. I remember her grunts of exertion as she pitilessly swung the rod and when she untied me she was flushed with excitement and her eyes shone, and I thought she was beautiful.

This time she did not come to my study with salve but gave me a tube to apply myself and I think I know why. Later I locked my study door lay naked on my bed and stroked myself to orgasm. As I lay there on the bed I liked to imagine Rose Lavington lying naked in her bed with her legs spread and her fingers busy....and I hoped she was thinking of me.

Epilogue

Six weeks later I sat my A levels and shortly afterward with absolutely no regrets I left my schooldays behind me. I was successful in my examinations and was accepted onto a French and German course at a University in London.

I never saw Natalie after the evening I was birched. Rumour has it that one weekend her parents went away and when they returned she had stolen all of her mother's jewels and run away.

I have never been back to school. In an old back-copy of the school magazine, there was a reference to Miss Rose Lavington: Matron, who had left the school the year after I had. She had found a new job at an all-girls school in the Midlands. The headmaster thanked her for her services and wished her good luck in the future.

Twenty years on I am married and have found my perfect partner. She is warm and intelligent, tall, and beautiful, and she understands me well. When necessary and when the need arises she is only to satisfy our mutual kinks and apply the cane to my bare arse. That, as they say, is a different story.

Martin Walters, Aix en Provence, July 1982