'Bend over the bench. You are here to impress today...'

Miss Diana Von Rigg joins me in a rough punishment dungeon with five willing sl*ves. One sl*ve will impress us today and it just so happens, sl*ve A has been in training for the role. The additional four boys make themselves useful as implement holders, witnessing first hand the impressive punishment that can be taken by a well trained sl*ve.

I'm dressed in a tight red latex mini dress with gold accents: perfect for a special occasion. Miss Diana is in tight bl*ck latex, a waist cincher enhances her hot curves. Our chosen sl*ve is hooded and bent over the spanking horse, he is nervous and his limits are about to be pushed until he cannot take anymore.

Miss Diana, being our guest, is invited to start proceedings. She starts by using a beautiful, thick flogger. Warming his *ss ready for what is to come. She starts softly fl*gging his trembling backside, goosebumps appear on his pale skin as the strips of leather strike him. I run my hands over his back whilst is being warmed up, teasing him, reminding him of my presence. Once warmed, we select a vicious looking leather paddle. This is going to be agony.

I deliver an initial twelve strokes while Miss Diana holds our masochist steady. I deliver another 12 before continuing for another round. His *ss begins to turn a delightful shade of red already. The p*in is excruciating and we have barely even started. I hand over control of the paddle to Miss Diana; I know she is eager to build on the bruising backside. I stand bracing my sl*ve, holding him still while Miss Diana unleashes on him. We ask my sl*ve how many strikes of the paddle he thinks he should take, and he offers a measly twelve strokes as his reply. His ridiculous answer makes us laugh, for the pathetic reply we are going to double it. Miss Diana delivers twenty four strikes in quick succession, his *ss already beautifully marked and we have a long way to go yet. We admire our handiwork for a moment before proceeding with the thick oval paddle.

Our sl*ve begs for his punishment to continue. I deliver 20 strokes with Miss Diana holding him down. As I work down the back of his thighs he becomes jumpy, he needs to remember the vulnerable predicament that he is in. Soon, it is Miss Diana’s turn to choose her next implement of t*rment: She chooses a favourite leather belt strap. I pin our sl*ve, readying him for what is to come. He is ordered to count each painful strike. Miss Diana begins mercilessly raining down the bl*ws, each painful lash has our sl*ve cry out in destress, I think he can do better. Continuing with the strap, I deliver twelve lashes, by the time we are done he can barely even count.

Miss Diana chooses her many riding crops for the next round of punishment, trying out various types of crop on my sl*ves beautifully bruised *ss, she eventually decides on the perfect crop to deliver her final bl*ws to our sl*ve. He shakes under the p*in that this cruel mistress is serving him, this brings great pleasure to me, I want to see him brought to tears.

Our sl*ve is almost destroyed after being cruelly beaten. He pleads for mercy, however we will not grant it until I have fully demonstrated his exceptional ability to take my cane. Miss Diana asks our sl*ve for a number, naturally he chooses twelve, we will double it and inflict twenty four strokes with each of my three favourite canes. Seventy two strokes in total.

I begin. Slowly layering the first round of strokes across his already immensely tender backside with my long senior cane. Miss Von Rigg circles our sl*ve, enjoying his s*ffering: taking pleasure from his p*in. Once complete, I upgrade my cane to one of two reformatory canes that I intend to use.

Miss Diana holds our sl*ve steady, despite the colour of his *ss he still begs for more. Another twenty four strokes leave b*rning welts across his backside. Always sure to remember his manners, we are thanked for permitting his s*ffering.

Finally, after what seems like forever for my sl*ve, my all time favourite cane is brought into play. A thick, conditioned reformatory cane. The strokes it lays are remarkably different to those before, the thud rings br*tally though the silent dungeon. As the pace increases our sl*ves breathing becomes laboured, his legs buckle as I swing the cane relentlessly over his *ss. We break at half way, I decide to up the pace even further for the final twelve br*tal strokes. Having come this far, there is no choice for our sl*ve but to complete the punishment and that he does, albeit now c*mpletely broken.

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