Twelve lashes of the whip for starters (I thought that was fair exchange for three touches), followed by nine swats with the paddle which left me pulling away and spitting out my thanks through clenched teeth (and I can still feel them a little now!). Once again, like last time, Mistress R was in fine form, verbally berating me for my inability to keep my hands of my cock and telling me that perhaps since the paddle and whip still aren’t getting the message over, perhaps she would have to refrai...