Tag Archives: Bastinado

HOUSE OF CARDS

Take two decks of cards, shuffle them together, and divide them into two piles of 52 cards. Each draw a card and the highest card wins. Even I understood it!
If I win, Mistress Angela said, I will pick a punishment for you. In the unlikely event that you win, you can pick any punishment you like. How’s that?
I smelled a rat, I didn’t like it.
I like it, Mistress, I said with a pokerface.
She won the first three in a row, which resulted into severals kick in the groin, nipple torture and bastinado. Bloody hell, we had just started and I was bruised and battered already. But then I started to win. Not once, not twice, but over and over again. So foot-worship joined the fun, facesitting, ponyplay, ass-worship and much more. I started to love this game.
I’m starting to hate this game, She said with a clear threat in Her voice.
It’s a game of luck, Mistress, I panicked.
She drew a card: three of diamonds. I began to sweat like a waterfall in spring. I drew mine: Queen of hearts. If looks could kill, I would be living in an urn right now.
I’m going to take you to Hell and back for this, She fumed.
So there you have it! No matter how successful, important, populair, rich or victorious you might be; you are, and always will be, a fucking loser.

DANCE OF THE CANE

It was a beautiful Monday morning with not a cloud in the sky, not a worry in the world. She asked me if I knew the meaning of the word ‘bastinado’. I didn’t want to look stupid (which wasn’t easy), so I frowned and tapped my lips. I told Her I thought it was some sort of dance, like the tango or the merengue. Let’s dance the bastinado, cha-cha-cha. Made perfect sense to me, to be honest. But I was wrong. Bastinado means caning the soles of someone’s bare feet. And you’re definitely not in the mood for dancing after that! I know all about it, because She decided to put it into practice right away and caned my feet as if She was beating the big drum. Not because I misbehaved or deserved a punishment or anything like that. She simply:

needs no reasons,
‘cos there are not reasons,
what reasons does She need,
oh, oh, oh, tell me why,
I don’t like Mondays

She just wanted me to suffer. And suffer I did! The pain was absolutely excruciating. The cane made a high whistling sound and each stroke landed with the accuracy of a Swiss watch. I howled, mewed, bellowed, barked and squeaked in pain and begged for mercy. She put me through hell and back and I will respect and fear the bloody bastinado as long as I live.