There is an art to caning… and it is definitely delicious. At first after that class, the first few times Master put his hand to me, he seemed to deliberately reject all the things we learned at the class.
Lately he has approached giving pain to me in a harsher and harsher manner… starting harsher and harder each time we try until I cringe when he reaches for me. But there is still some part of me that hoped… hoped that maybe he could learn from another what he refused to learn from me.
The teacher had spoken at length about two things, one was where the muscle is deep enough to absorb the cane strike without hitting bone and two about watching your subject, taking the time to watch them absorb the energy of the blow and process it, transform it and ultimately enjoy it. And once we were home Master pushed those limits. Even with just his hands, he seemed to perversely reject the concepts of warm up and pacing. And when I would cry out and plead that when he does that, it pushes me too fast, that it is nearly impossible to bear. And he would laugh and gloat, “Oh, I know. I always knew that.”
At first I was sort of disheartened, that I was the one that asked for this, started us down the rabbit hole, and now… now… now that he has taken control, he has taken the things I ask for and distort them, mutate them into something different, just close enough to what I beg for to give me hope and yet… just off the mark far enough to frustrate the hell out of me.
I had almost reached the point of deciding to not ask, to avoid pain from Master… one can only ask for ice-cream and get a dish of pickles so many times before they stop asking for ice cream. I mean I can eat the pickles and if I try hard enough I can even convince myself that I like pickles or that maybe this is pickle tasting ice cream… or hell that maybe all ice cream is really pickles and I was somehow stupid to think it had ever been anything different.
And then last night, I had been tired, just beat… I had not slept well the night before and when I got home I just had run out of gas. He directed me to rest, take a nap if I could capture sleep. I sat there for an hour, not quite asleep, not quite awake… and an hour later he woke me. But I was dopey, waking was almost beyond my reach and he pulled me to lie across his lap and began to spank me awake. At first he just spanked my bottom and it felt good… but then as I sighed and told him that it was good, feeling really good… he hit my thighs hard. And I lunged and protested that he was going too fast, hitting too hard… not going at a pace I could manage. And finally, miraculously he slowed. And once the pace was within my ability, I found myself doing what the teacher guy spoke of, absorbing, analyzing the sensation, moving it around my body and enjoying myself.
We talked about it, about the caning stuff and he told me to come down to his lair and picked up the length of rattan we had purchased at the very beginning of this M/s relationship. He hit me really hard right from the first and I cried out, begging to ask him one more question before we started… I asked him… “Is this for you? …because if it is, then do your worst, I will bear it. But if it is for me, please be open to my words; listen to what I have to say… please.” And once again, miraculously he listened.
I found myself lying, sensually luxuriously bathing in sensation as he lightly began to tap, tap, tap, tap… raining fast light taps up and down my ass and thighs… back and forth… up and down… sensitizing me and then “whack”… an exacting blow, not so hard as to interrupt the music but a punctuation mark in the storm. And it was interesting to feel the wave of pain… if it was pain… roll up my body, accentuated by the feeling of the continued taps. I spoke… soft continual comments, “That’s good. I like that. I like the way the two feelings blend and contrast and fit. I like that a lot.”
We did that for a long time, experimenting with different positions, different styles of blows, different implements, different body parts being struck and talking about it… talking and feeling listened to. There was no loss of awareness, no subspace… in fact I felt very clear minded, very calm, very relaxed, very sensual and very safe. It was awesome.
I am sure there will be times that it will be for him… times when he will not wait for me, will not allow me to enjoy it. And that is okay… in many ways that is more than okay. In fact those scenes push me into that mental place, where I feel my submission and awe of him more than any other times. And afterwards, for days after, I continue to feel that for him. But now I know that sometimes, even if it is hardly ever… it is good to know that sometimes the ice cream will really be ice cream.
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