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Mistakes were made

New York City meets Munich

February 27th, 2001 · No Comments · Uncategorized

Counting to 20 the hard way

Never in a million years would I ever do anything to earn a punishment from Nori. Certainly she corrects me from time to time, but a gentle verbal correction from her is more than enough. Yet, yesterday, I made a gaff which became compounded by circumstance and coincidence and ended up being a serious error.

It started Monday night. Before being dismissed for the night (I’m staying with a friend while Nori has the apartment) I took a shower. I took of my collar View definition in a new window. I then forgot to put it back on… I realized this when I got to my friends. Not a big deal, but a slip.

I woke up the next morning, and I realized I had also forgotten my cellphone. Not a big deal, again, since Nori has my number at work. I didn’t think about it again, and went into the office, and got caught up in the mundane world. Since I really wanted to focus on work, I didn’t even bother to set up my laptop, so I didn’t have ICQ or my personal email all day. But on top of this, unknown to me, a phone system upgrade that took place while I was away in Munich disabled the voicemail indicator on my phone.

Nori woke up, and found the collar in the bathroom. She went to her morning apointment and called my cellphone. No answer. She later tried me in the office, and missed me, and left a voicemail. She tried my cell phone again. She sent me an email. Now, she’s starting to get worried, since I’m never unavailable. She thinks about the collar, left behind, and starts to worry that maybe I freaked out. She calls the office again, and leaves another voice mail. Again, the cell phone. Now she’s worried that something is seriously wrong. I leave the office, and go to run errands. She needs me to fetch some items from the apartment for an appointment, and has to change her plans because I’m out of reach.

It’s is after 8PM before she reaches me at home. She is not pleased, and I realize how big a goof I’ve made. We talk about it a bit, and how the whole thing made her feel, and my contribution to it. I feel horrible. Nori doesn’t get angry, which makes her words have even greater weight.

“I’m going to have to punish you for this.” she says. My heart sinks, but I know she’s right. “You’re going to get caned. Think about how many strokes you should get.”

We wrap up on an upbeat note, but it fills my mind. Not so much the fear of the punishment, but just distraught with having dropped the ball. And, I’m not looking forward to a punishment caning.

She gets home from her evening, and we sit and talk a bit as she catches up on her email. The topic of my infraction doesn’t come up, but I know not to say anything until she does. I sit quietly and still at her feet, and let her focus on her work. She dismisses me into the other room while she takes a personal call. I’m left waiting for almost an hour. Of course, it’s hard to think about anything but what’s to come. I know that’s her intent as well. It’s very, very effective.

After she finishes her call, she collects me for our unfinished business. We talk a bit more about what happened, and she asks me questions to make sure I understand the situation. She isn’t looking for an apology, she’s looking to see if I get it. I get it. Boy, do I get it.

I ask for 20 strokes. She seems pleased with the number. She grants me the kindness of being able to lie down for it. It hurts a lot more if you have to stand for it. She also says I can have a pillow to scream into, which is an offer I don’t find comforting, but I thank her for this to. In this moment, I have complete trust in her. I know it will hurt. I know she will push me. But I also know I am safe.

There’s no warm up. This is a punishment, it’s not supposed to feel good. The first stroke is like lightning through me. It’s only a hint of how bad it will get though. Her aim is precise and deliberate, her timing slow and methodical. She lands each second stripe on the preceding one which is agony. She reminds me to breathe, and to relax my legs, both will help ease the pain. She pauses after the tenth stroke to drink some water. It feels like time has stopped. Tears are escaping from my eyes, and my whole awareness is focused on my backside, and the count. No matter what, I do not want to forget the count.

She resumes, slowly, but just as fiercely. A cane makes little noise, just a quiet swoosh as it cuts through the air, punctuated by the smack into flesh. It doesn’t sound bad at all, if you didn’t hear the sounds of the person receiving the strokes, that is. At seventeen strokes, I know I am almost there. I am barely coherent enough to count, but a stronger instinct preserves me, and during her long pauses I manage to keep track. After the last stroke, I thank her for it. She’s pleased with how I received the punishment, and she dismisses me for the night.

Needless to say, I did not sit on the subway ride to my friend’s apartment.

Hurricane Nori

The weekend of lectures and workshops with Nori was a lot of work. She’s unstopable. I’ve never seen anyone with such drive and focus. Six hours of class in a row on Saturday. Never mind that she was on her feet all day, dressed in a corset and high heels. I was hard pressed to keep up with her, but I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. It was great to be on the team. I learned a lot, both about the nature of service, and from the content of her classes.

I’ll share more about the weekend soon. For now, I think I want to get up and walk around a bit…

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