I can use my safeword at any time and stop this torment. I won’t unless I absolutely need to, though. Why? Because if I do, that will show weakness. I am a submissive. I am not weak. Besides, I knew what was coming tonight, and I 100%, of my own free will, agreed.

Sir, a well respected instructor, is conducting a class on spanking. He is training newbie Dominants on technique, implements, and observation. He has four “students” in this class who each will use all the implements they have requested.

Their hand, naturally, a pingpong paddle, a wooden spoon, a leather paddle, a tawse, a crop, a cane, birch branches, and a leather belt. All four of them will train on all nine implements.

I am strapped to my spanking bench, unable to move. I requested to be gagged, but Sir won’t allow it. He says it’s important for the trainees to hear my cries and evaluate them.

They focus on one implement at a time, Sir first giving a demonstration. He requires each trainee to continue with that implement until He is satisfied with their competence. We are up to the cane now.

My ass, thighs, and cafes are on fire. There is a puddle of tears and slobber beneath my face. I still have the cane, birch, and belt to go.

I’ve said “Yellow” once already. Sir allowed me a ten minute respite. Between students, he also allows me to drink water from a straw. Actually, he requires it. I say “Yellow” again.

“Yes?” he asks.

“Sir, I’m so sorry,” I sob, “but I have to pee.”

He rubs my back, kisses my hair, and tells one of his trainees to retrieve the bucket in the corner.

“no, no, no,” I plead.

“Now, does that sound like her safeword?” he asks.

The trainees answer in the negative. “Joshua,” he says, “place the bucket beneath her appropriately. By forcing her to hold her pee, we can prolong her agony, but by forcing her to pee publicly, we add to her torture by giving her the element of humiliation. Joshua? Ready for the cane?”

Sir is right. I am absolutely humiliated by the sound of my pee hitting the metal bucket, distracting me from the caning Joshua is administering. Luckily, he is adept at this implement and we move on to the next man after only three stripes.

Time moves on and I am no longer in my body. I have peed twice now, no longer caring. I hear Sir discuss sub space, the color of my welts, which ones will bruise, how to hold the crop, and so on. I don’t care. I’m floating in a different plane.

Eventually, I felt Sir’s hand stroking my back, soothing my welts and bruises. “Would you like your reward now or tomorrow morning when you’ve had time to heal?” he murmured to me.

“Are the students gone?” I asked.

“No, they are still here, awaiting your response.”

I paused. Every muscle in my body ached. The skin on my bottom, thighs, and calves was tortured. Even my pussy had been paddled lightly with the crop and wooden spoon.

“I am yours, Sir. The choice is yours,” I say in a strong voice.

I hear applause.

“And that, gentlemen, is the correct answer for a very well trained submissive.”