I sent her a picture of my tawse, with me holding it in what I hoped was a suitably menacing manner. I told her it would impart a stinging, smarting kind of pain. I said after a while, when the endorphins kicked in, she’d find herself getting nicely warmed up, with a glow spreading down through her skin into the muscles, and from her bottom into her loins generally.
I told her that when I judged the time right I would switch from the tawse to a cane. I sent her a picture of this too, a thin rattan cane which I told her made a delightful swishing sound as it descended towards impact. I said she would find this kind of pain more biting, more penetrating, and more focused, therefore sharper. I said she probably wouldn’t be able to endure nearly so much of it as with the tawse, but that I hop
