Practice makes perfect.

I stand with my knees locked, even though she keeps telling me to relax. The cadence of her voice makes me weak and nervous all at the same time. I'm bending over just enough to where my ass is out, already red and marred with red and white stripes.
I hold the book in my hand, and try to keep it so steady, try and make it easier to read. But as my eyes try and focus on the tiny text and my shaking hands, it seems like this lesson will never end.
Her hand runs through my hair, which is again falling into my face. Her delicate fingers run themselves over my skin and through my bangs. My breath is ragged and it catches when she touches me.
"Read it again."
I open my mouth, and stammer. This is unacceptable.
I feel her bring the cane down again. I count each one with a cry and a corresponding whimper. I count to seven, each number accompanied by a burn, a sting, a line of white heat coming down on my ass.
"Thank you, Mistress."
"Good girl. Now again."