If you let go, that particular stroke won’t count, and will be delivered again. Do you understand?’I nodded into the desk. ‘Yes, Mrs Griffiths.�...�Good. Right, ready for the first stroke!I waited. It seemed like an eternity. Then;Thwack!‘Owwwww!’ Oh, that hurt! I could feel the searing pain right across my bottom! I concentrated desperately on keeping hold of the desk.Thwack!‘Owwww!’ A sob was wrenched from me. Oh, it hurt so much!Thwack!‘Owwww!’I couldn’t believe this – I was being caned in front. Looking back over my lifetime of men between my own legs, heaving and humping both my 'Kitty', and 'Anus', I have cried with both pleasure and pain, cooking oil and butter smeared in and around my 'Back-door', providing the dualities of 'Pain and Pleasure', 'Father and Daughter', 'Butter and Oil'. He stood by the table that morning, beside Gina, our youngest, only because she was the nearest. His hand stroked her hair as she sat quietly, his cock angry and rigid, with a small bubble of clear. More

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