Last time I tried to drill down into what it meant to me to play a BDSM session with Elita’s man, Molly, the lovely and wonderful doyenne of sex blogging suggested it was something I was only beginning to explore and would come back to. Well she was right, because here I am; coming back to it.
I like the way blogging allows me to take thoughts out of my head and write them down. It lets me examine them from different angles, looking to see how the light catches them, discovering which seem dull and which gleam with new discoveries.
As I wrote earlier, my “morning-after” thoughts were all about Elita, the incredible violence of the caning she endured and the importance of her help in getting through mine. However, and aided no doubt by the amazing cane stroke video she made after the sesssion, I keep coming back to how different it was to be caned by him.
He is undoubtedly very, very good at it. He can tap a point on my backside, wrap the cane behind him and bring it back onto exactly that point with a precisely measured amount of force. He can do that again and again, moving the cane over the target area, choosing to land strokes side by side or on top of each other at will. Importantly, I sense he knows exactly where I am in the session, when to pause a little and let me recover, when to push forward and take me to those new levels of pain, new levels of both challenge and reward. He was hitting us both very hard and yet, strange though it may sound, there was a care in how he went about his work.
He was a study in absolute concentration and exquisite focus. Something about his stance, the way he seemed so centred, so completely in control of of his body, was mesmerising. There was a stillness before the stroke as he collected himself. The back swing and the strike became somehow a single motion that discovered the elasticity in a cane that had seemed stiff when stationary, discovered the power in it as it wound behind his body, then accelerated to catch up with his wrist, perfectly straight at the point of impact. This is not merely “hitting someone with a stick;” there is skill and craft in it, artistry even.
Although we called it a “judicial” caning, there was little sense of punishment here; rather it felt like an extreme experience to be explored, relished and shared with each other. Elita and I were on a rollercoaster of his design, with soaring highs and stomach churning lows; with terrifying, adrenaline fuelled, descents and periods of stillness where we seemed to hang in the air. And when he had finished beating us, we walked off that roller coaster hugging and laughing with the boundless joy of teenagers at a theme park. We felt alive, exhilarated and renewed.
So, where next with this? How, as a Twitter friend asked, do you folllow that?
This is surely the beauty of BDSM. Elita and I have been playing together for nearly two years now, yet we are still in the foothills of the high mountains of sensations and emotions that we could explore.
But specifically, what next with him?
Well, I think that one day, perhaps not the next session or the one after that, but one day nonetheless, I would like to be in a dungeon alone with him. I would like to be, for an hour or so, the sole focus of that skill and artistry, to let him test me, push me through my limits and find new ones. I’d want him to frighten me a little, challenge me, open me up and let me glimpse those high mountains.
And when we’ve finished, I’d like to go have a beer with him. We’ll swap BDSM war stories and generally talk the kind of bollocks that blokes like to talk after they’ve done something edgy together.