Coasting on Bruise Control

When I first started out on this journey I was under the impression that my unique situation would prevent me from exploring a spanking that would result in anything beyond a red bottom. Email exchanges between potential play partners always stressed that my bottom was not to be marked. The first spanker claimed to be an expert spanker and guaranteed that I was not going to be marked in any way. Guess what? I came home with a bruise and was pisssssed. Looking back, I don't see how anyone could possibly know how a person marks, never having played with them. In contrast, after my first spank date with the Englishman, I brought up the possibility of getting caned during a certain time of the month when my bottom would undoubtedly be hidden behind the iron curtain of granny panties. It would be my monthly consolation prize... a caning for the sacrifical shedding of my uterine lining.



I've noticed that it takes more and more to mark my bottom. Many days I'm left with only minutes of heat from a red bottom, hours with the beautiful red stripes left by the cane and maybe a day with a stray bruise. I never would have guessed how attached I've become to my marks. Anyone looking over my shoulder would assume myself to be a narcissist, staring at pictures of my bottom. But it isn't my bottom that I'm admiring, but the lovely marks that once graced its surface.



Unfortunately, there have been some marks that haven't gone away. I'm not sure what to make of these new found freckles, but they certainly weren't there three months ago. I am a bit worried that they might be permanent, as they now appear as stains on an otherwise unblemished canvas that begs to be painted every week.



This is from a previous caning, but you can sort of see them in this picture:

One unexpected benefit to our extended break seems to have been a rediscovered ability to mark. I thought it would be an interesting study to see the progression of healing. Here are my fresh marks:

the next day:

the two days later:

Today, is almost six days after our last encounter and I'm left with a single bruise. This one has hung on much longer than expected, but it's not unwelcomed. I wonder if the Englishman will know that it is his mark when I see him next. I would hate to be unduly punished for presenting a bottom he assumes to be marked by another man. Who am I kidding? The punishment that would result from such a heinous misunderstanding makes me quiver in delight just thinking about it.