Having watched a video of myself being birched I felt incredibly sorry for the poor sobbing me I saw on the screen, I just wanted to protect her and give her a big hug, but my wonderful birch weilding man held strong and carried on birching, despite feeling exactly the way I did, wanting to comfort me and hold me and kiss my tears away, but knowing he mustn’t, not until the time was right and the punishment duly over.

I admire him so much for that, as I admire Abel for holding back and waiting for his turn to comfort and of course I admire Haron too for taking what sounds like the most amazing caning

This bit made me catch me breath. Only once did my husband and I briefly discuss the idea of someone else punishing me, and it was after a thrashing and the same day that I’d read another of your posts about a mislaid stroke, too high on Haron’s backside. The idea, at first, made me a bit queasy, despite his surprising lack of discomfort. I mean, I am his. But the thought of being freshly unbound, still gasping a bit, heaving for breath, tears in my eyes, being comforted not by the man who beat me but by the man I love is sexy. Knight in shining armor sexy. That is, a sadistic, slow-to-act, sexy knight in shining armor.

A gorgeous and all too vivid post. (And a fun typo note: while I was proof-reading my comment, I saw I had written “the mean who beat me” and “my the man I love.” That about sums up my real thoughts on that, I suppose!)