Jenna Stevens came by her career as a clairvoyant due to a very odd set of circumstances. Her boyfriend and dominant, Derek had returned from a business trip in one of those moods. He had purchased a carbon fiber cane while away and could hardly wait to use it on her. Although she was glad to see him return (their loving relationship was solid), the look in his eyes made her nervous.
They kissed and embraced at the door and then had dinner together. At first he didn’t mention the new toy, waiting for just the right moment to introduce it to her. But he could barely contain what Jenna would later characterize as an evil grin. And she could hardly contain her nervousness. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem, but she felt silly being nervous about something she technically didn’t know yet.
Finally, after their dessert of cheesecake and coffee were mostly consumed, Derek could no longer contain himself and said, “I’m going to cane you in an hour with my new toy.”
Jenna gulped. Although she’d had plenty of spankings from Derek, hearing that she was about to bend over to receive a painful caning on her bare bottom was still a startle for her. Yes, she did get incredibly aroused by the caning, but still there was the pain…
Derek reached into his duffle bag and pulled out what looked like a poster tube. He twisted and pulled off the cap and slowly, cruelly Jenna thought, extracted a 22-inch carbon fiber cane. It was thin and black and seemed somehow interwoven with destiny and unrelenting, painful transformation.
Derek swished it through the air and it made a quiet but fierce sound as if it were daring her not to listen to it. It seemed to say “Ignore my warning whisper at your peril.” It seemed to frown at her.
When Jenna finally found her voice again she asked, “May I ask… how many?” She hoped against hope that he wouldn’t say the number – his favorite caning number.
Derek said, “Why 36 of course. Six of six of the best.” Jenna mouthed the words along with him. This gesture might have been seen as disrespectful by some other dominants, but in Derek’s case, it was quite cute and enduring that Jenna knew exactly what she was in for, enough so that she could mouth the words of her own sentence.
The appointed hour finally arrived and Jenna met Derek in their play room. She was wearing her mid-thigh tartan skirt, a button down shirt and tie, knee socks, and penny loafers – the prescribed caning outfit. Derek was almost salivating, but remained authoritative and calm. He wanted her nervous, but not too frightened to bend over for him.
“Approach,” Derek commanded, looking into her eyes and pointing to a spanking bench in the center of the room.
“Yes sir,” Jenna said.
She walked up to the bench, climbed up on her knees and bent herself over it. Derek had painstakingly adjusted the height of the knee rest so that it raised her bottom slightly higher than it would otherwise be, but still provided plenty of support for Jenna. She stretched her arms in front of her and waited for Derek to put the cuffs on her. He did so and then pulled the middle strap across her waist and fastened it into its buckle.
Next he put her ankles into cuffs and then raised her skirt, draping it over her back. Derek then pulled down her white cotton panties, before retrieving his new carbon fiber thing of beauty. Again he swished it, the sound he loved and she hated and loved and then hated again.
He measured his strokes carefully as any good spanker would when using a new toy. The first stroke landed almost perfectly mid-bottom. It left a fiery red line and a gasping, wide-eyed girl in its wake. Jenna knew this was going to be a challenge as she ground her pelvis into the padded bench. She couldn’t believe she was already thinking about her safe word, so she chided herself and resolved to soldier on.
The caning continued, more angry red lines formed across Jenna’s once pale bottom cheeks, and her gasping breathlessness turned into squeals and moaning. Derek allowed just enough time between strokes for her to absorb the pain in all of its glorious phases. The brief pauses gave him the chance to see how flushed her face was, watch to see the tell-tale parted lips indicating her arousal, and, of course, tears. He was surprised to see tears and arousal after 13 strokes. That gave him an idea of the intensity that he could administer with this carbon fiber cane. He felt powerful and a great sense of responsibility. Knowing he could actually torture her with pain, gave him a nervous thrill. He thought about the prospect for a moment and decided that course of action was better saved for another day’s indulgence. No, the remainder of her caning would be more like one would expect to give a school girl.
Derek began caning Jenna in a steady, faster rhythm. Although the strokes were less severe, the increased speed gave Jenna just as much of a pain challenge. She cried now like a child and her tear-wet eyes had a far away look as the stroke count climbed up towards 30.
It was at that point in her caning and in her life that things changed. She began to get visions in the middle of her caning – images as clear to her as if she were being shown a video. In the vision she could see a screen with a newscast indicating the date was 3 days into the future. She focused on what one news story was about.
“Mayor Fisk is going to lose the election,” she said out loud in her current, getting caned world.
Derek, surprised at the utterance, stopped caning. He had just delivered stroke 35 and immediately wondered if she’d been driven out of her mind with the pain.
“Don’t stop caning me!” Jenna said, as she felt the vision fade away.
“I’m happy to continue caning you, but you need to convince me you’re still here and sane,” Derek said.
“There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m just seeing visions. I see the future,” she said.
Derek, having walked around the bench to look closely into her eyes for signs of … he realized he wasn’t sure what to look for, but hoped he would recognize it when he saw it.
“How do you know it’s the future?” Derek asked.
“I just know. I just feel it,” Jenna said.
He stroked her hair and caressed her face as he said, “I guess we’ll see on election day in a few days.”
Jenna’s prediction turned out to be correct. Additionally, it turned out that they were able to re-create the same conditions – the carbon fiber cane, the spanking bench, the rhythm of the strokes – and achieved the same result. Jenna saw realistic visions of the future and they came true. But there was one catch. She couldn’t remember any details of the visions when she was not being caned. So if she didn’t tell anyone what she saw, the content of the vision would be lost.
Humans and money being what they are, almost immediately, plans were made to capitalize on Jenna’s gift. The “catch’ of her having to be caned as she gave her visions actually increased interest in her service from those who didn’t mind seeing a sexy woman caned over a bench. Clients would ask for her readings on them and then she would tell them while getting caned and tears streaming down her cheeks.
Thus began the career of a truly extraordinary clairvoyant.