|image from Cane-iac|
*Note- If you are wary of canes and/or heavy marking, you may want to skip this post. R, you’ve been warned.*
Canes are one of those things that used to terrify me. (Okay, sometimes they still do.) When I ventured out into the spanking world I said no #%*! way! It was a hard limit. This is where some annoyingly wise kinkster pops in and says that you’ll end up doing whatever you said you’d never do. Yeah, yeah. Pipe down. This is my story!
Back to canes. A friend I trusted eventually got me to try it. And I loved it. Sometimes I love/hate it. Whatever. You get the idea. There are a LOT of canes out there that create different sensations. Most who have read here before know that I’m Team Sting all the way. No, not that Sting! I have a strong preference to sting over thud. I can handle a lot more stingy pain than I can that deep tissue thuddy awfulness. That’s just me. YYMV, as they say.
Besides the lasting sting, for me there is a big mindfuck factor to caning. There’s a structured feel to it. I feel the anticipation (sometimes verging on anxiety, but in a good way) beforehand. Feeling it tap against me before the hard stroke comes. Hearing the swish of the cane in the air. I’m not often in a position to easily see the person caning me so I rely on the sounds and sensations of it all.
There are times when I crave a good caning. And recently I got one. A is very skilled at caning, amongst other things, and this was the first time I’d been caned by him. He has about a million and a half canes I think. Rattan, delrin, it was all there. I was a bit wide-eyed surveying the collection. I expressed that I like sting over thud and about half of them were put away, still leaving many options. Once those were all picked out, I got undressed and lay on the bed. (Is it “lay” or “laid”? Fuck, I can never remember that.) I was a bit nervous but it faded as we talked about what my experiences with caning have been like.
He was a pro at giving a good warm-up. I don’t think I would’ve been able to take nearly as much without that. It started slower as I got a feel for a few of the canes and the different sensations of each one. You can see from the picture that I received full coverage and it was kept pretty even. For much of it he was using more than one cane at a time and would get the same spot several times before switching to the other side. It was a steady pace that allowed me to handle the harder strokes when it worked up to that. He swapped to different canes a few times and I tried to give feedback on how they felt compared to the others, but I’m not always good at verbalizing that. After a few “I don’t know’s” he said he’d run through them again so I could compare. He struck me with 5 or 6 different canes in quick succession and asked again which one I liked best. When I had stopped squirming I looked back at him with a glare and he continued with an evil smile on his face. I vetoed the last one as too stingy even for me and tried to give clearer answers.
The intensity increased as he continued and there was much more squirming and moaning on my part. Probably an “oh fuck” or two in there as well. We were still talking throughout and he seemed to be judging my reactions well. At one point he paused and asked, “How did you say you feel about blood?” That freaked me out a little. “Am I really bleeding?” I looked back at my bottom and couldn’t really tell amidst all the color and welts. I don’t have a specific weak spot prone to breaking like some people do, so I was surprised. We had been at it for quite a while though. He had it covered and fixed me up with his first aid kit. Before the bandaid was put on I asked if he could take a few pics so I had proof of my battle scars. I asked if people often bled when he caned them. He said no that it doesn’t usually get that far and I was able to take a lot. Yay, I’m a tough ass! Haha. Well, I can pretend for at least a little while. That is certainly not a challenge to anybody! And so ends the story of my Sunday caning.
Love/hate, like I said.