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But I made double-damn sure to keep my body straight on the way down and back up, and then to keep it straight before I went down and back up again.

At fifty-four, I started going down again, for the fifty-fifth one, and my right arm collapsed, then my left arm, and I landed on the mat with a splat.

“Fifty-four. How many times are you going to feel the cane and the belt, slave?”

It took me a few seconds to do the math. “Thirty-three and sixty-six, Master.”

“Stand, slave, so I can walk you to the bondage table.”

Master situated me so I was leaned over the table with my chest on it, but not my stomach. My wrist cuffs were connected to chains attached to the other side of the table, so my arms were stretched over my head.

I felt him doing something at my knees, and then something was wrapped around my right knee, and whatever it was clicked closed, enveloping my knee from mid-thigh to mid-calf. Next came my left knee, and I realized I could no longer bend my knees.

“Spread your legs a little more.”

I awkwardly managed, and then felt the unmistakable act of having a spreader bar fastened between my ankle cuffs.

Chapter 17

Will

I wasn’t sure Davy could keep his legs straight and remain in position through what was coming, and the object of maintenance is to keep from having to punish your slave, not to give you a reason to do so.

Eventually, I’d train him so he can stand and take a lengthy caning or belting, but we had years to get there. Or, I hoped we did.

I gave him the first ten cane strikes paced at one every five seconds, which is pretty fast for the level of pain I was doling out, but I wanted to make a point. No warmup and a whole lot of pain and heat, applied faster than he could manage to get on top of the pain.

I stopped and rubbed his ass oh-so-gently at the end of the first ten, and then gave the next fifteen at a rate of one every eight seconds. Still fast since I was hitting harder, and my boy was in tears when I stopped and rubbed his ass again.

“Some maintenance sessions I’ll only chastise two body parts, others will be three or four. Rarely will you get this kind of session, but I feel it’s important to show you how each body part can feel during this first example session.”

I truly don’t enjoy having to punish, when it’s all about pain with no enjoyment. Scheduled maintenance, on the other hand, I can get into — a reason to hurt my boy worse than a normal session, and the power trip that goes with it. The screams, moans, and especially the tears go straight to my balls every time.

I stepped back and took aim again, but determined he needed another thirty or so seconds, so I gave him some more explanation.

“How I come up with the base number will vary. Sometimes it’ll be done like today, other times I’ll write numbers from twenty-five to forty on folded pieces of paper and have you draw one for the number of cane strokes, and then use multiples for other implements. Or I might come up with something completely off the wall.”

His breathing was smoothing out a little despite his tears, so it was time for his final eight strikes. I gave him five just a little harder than the previous ones and watched the clock over his head to be certain he had a full ten seconds between them.

For the last three, I hit him as hard as I dared without risk of splitting the skin, and waited thirty seconds through his screaming and crying before giving him another. I waited a full minute before giving him the last, and then I lifted the glass of ice water, walked to his side, squatted, and held his dick so I could raise the ice water to immerse his still rock-hard dick.

Another scream, this time shrill and long. I held his dick in the frigid water until it was soft enough to fit into the jailbird.

When the scream stopped, I told him with a voice full of sympathy, “I know it’s cold, and you weren’t expecting it, but such is the life of a slave.” I caressed the root of his cock, the part not in the ice water. “What is a sex slave supposed to be focused on above all else?”

“Master’s pleasure, Sir.”

I gently patted the side of his ass, below his hip, brilliant white without any cane marks because I’m a good aim. “Exactly right.”

I removed the ice-water glass and refrained from caressing his now-soft cock, though it was tempting. Instead, I walked the glass to the edge of the room so I could put it on a worktable, and then walked back to him with my footsteps echoing in the stark room. The room has Bluetooth speakers in all four corners, but I usually prefer silence for both maintenance and punishment.

Music can help set the tone for regular scenes, but I enjoy the austerity of only the sounds of implements hitting flesh and then the screams and moans of my slave for scheduled maintenance as well as punishments.

I removed the locked-straight knee braces and the spreader bar, disconnected his wrist cuffs, had him stand, and then walked him to the cross, where I situated him facing out. He walked decent with me leading him while blindfolded. There was certainly room for improvement, but that could come later. This was maintenance, not training.

Next would be cock and balls before I belted his ass and the backs of his thighs. Having some time between the caning and belting would make him feel the latter so much more.

First, though, the jailbird. He moaned and whined a little while I put it on, and his sounds made my dick throb in my jeans.