"And, if you happen to have a nice chunk of meat like this," she adds, "you can even strike the upper arms or legs." She circles Jimmy, working up and down his body with the tip of the cane to demonstrate her example for the engrossed students. Regardless of his respect for the Mistress of the house, Jimmy can't keep from flinching with every strike. It's frustrating, because he's been punched and kicked in the head and fought back multiple times throughout his career; yet this woman half his size is putting him through a miserable experience with just a tiny stick. He wants to please his Mistress, desperately, and as a former teacher himself, there's little he hates more than not following instructions.
Jimmy is... large. Powerful. Tall. Jacked. So he decides to make use of every muscle in his body to hold still under the stinging assault.
"Hmmm..." Mistress walks around him and cradles the back of his hard head in her hand. "Do you feel a difference between this -" she strikes him, hard, across both buttocks with the cane and he can't help but flinch and yelp his discomfort. "-and this?" She squeezes his cheeks together in the universal sign for "open your mouth" and he takes the cane between his teeth. She gives him a light reassuring squeeze on the back of the neck. "Good." Jimmy can't help but glow at the small praise.
She leans forward and back, moving around the furniture and caressing Jimmy's skin. "Relax..." She rubs circles over his lower spine, over and over until he finally trusts and sags in place. "I'm going to hit you again Jimmy."
"This time I want you to remain peacefully in your body. Instead of flinching, let the sensation just... roll through you." Her sensual voice makes his eyes feel heavier and heavier.
"Yes, Mistress." Yes. Anything. Just please be happy with it.
"Open." He obeys and she takes the cane from his mouth. She caresses (and did he feel a grope there?) his ass and thighs before unleashing another assault or five, maybe six strikes to his lower body. This time he's determined not to fuck it up. He breathes in real slow through his nostrils, and each time the cane strikes, Mistress lets out a breathy moan that he echoes.
She strikes him again, right where his ass meets his thighs and he lets out a strangled squeal.
"Let it out!"
"Yes, Mistress," he breathes, which rolls directly into a Muay Thai grunt as the cane connects again.
"Mmm," she vocalizes back. It's like the dance they are doing is not just one of bodies, but one of voices also. "You feel the difference."
It's not a question, not exactly, but he answers anyway. "Yes, Mistress, absolutely." His voice sounds... strange. Far away, even, like he's simultaneously bent over this bench and floating away in a hot-air balloon.
"So how do you like the cane now, Jimmy?"
He wants to be respectful, but... "Still pretty awful, Mistress." He smiles at her in an attempt to mitigate the punch of his words. "But... it's different n - UNGH." This time he automatically rolls with the miserable sensation, sharp cracking heat spreading deeper and wider across his nerve endings.. "It's like... awful, but... also... not?"