Whippy Cane

Sir hid a new cane among the other toys. He laughed when I missed seeing it several times. It was right out in the open, too.

The new cane is short, super-flexible, and has a darling, red silicone handle. It is very whippy.

Sir had me remove my trousers and kneel in my spot on the floor. He had me cross my arms in front of my chest to reduce the risk of an unwanted hit. Then he started.

As he does with any new implement, he started comparatively gently and increased the intensity with every blow. The hit that made me yip! and shudder in reaction became the baseline for this session.

He backed off from the intensity, but chose to hit the same spot five times in a row. Five times in the crease where my thigh meets my ass on the left side. Five times in the crease where my thight meets my ass on the right side. Five times across both cheeks. The pain is immediate and exquisite, with the sting racing along my nerves just under my skin.

So sensitive.

He ran his nails over the fresh stripes when he was done. I shuddered and shook.

One of the things I value from maintenance–besides feeling as though his love and care for me is locked into my skin–is that it roots me into here and now. There is no room for worry or anxiety because¬†OUCH “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” becomes my whole world for a short while.


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