As I do a few times a year, I got caned Friday.
The caning was a lighter experience than I usually have, because of how I had described what I desired.
After the caning was over, among the conversation, the gal who caned me said something to the effect that I was a caring person. It was a bit funny, though I did not laugh or react outwardly. I had to spend a bit of time wondering in my mind if she was flattering me or if that is how she perceived me. I don’t think she had reason to be flattering me, but I am not sure she had a lot of evidence on which to suppose that I am a caring person . . .