I saw the bloody thing as soon as I walked in. It was sat on a table with her two-tailed Hydra whip. Jesus wept! It was longer and thicker than any cane she had ever used on me, and I knew for sure, even without picking it up, that it would be heavier and stiffer too. I was transfixed by it. It was frightening.
Just sat there, even with nobody yet on the handle end of it, it was very frightening.
I’d seen this kind of cane in a couple of rental dungeons and always wondered what type of hard-case, ex borstal/ex public school, corporal punishment addict would regard being hit with such a thing as a recreational activity. When given the choice, I’d always picked something more realistic, a proper cane for sure, never just a toy, but not….not… not that bloody thing.
Elita gave me a few taps with it early on. Just little taps. Even that caused me to jerk about.
I found it hard to concentrate on the rest of the session, knowing what was coming at the end. Elita did her best to distract me, using the Hydra whip on my back, a challenging and erotic first for us. She lay me on the bed and jumped on top of me, working my nipples over, putting her hand round my throat, playing with my cock and my balls. It was wonderful; the whirlwind of pain and pleasure spiralling upwards into ecstasy. It always is wonderful, because she’s exceptionally good at this.
There was more, though. She was intimate and affectionate, somehow closer to me than normal. She lay with her cheek next to mine at one point. It moved me to be so close to her.
“It’s because she knows what she’s going to do to me,” I thought.
And so it was, though not quite in the way I was imagining.
Deep into the session, my focus strongly on what was to come, she suddenly sat up on my chest and said: “I wasn’t going to tell you this until you were back next door and over the sofa, but I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to tell you now. It’s not me that’s going to be caning you today. It’s him!”
Have you ever experienced the full force of your body’s Fight or Flight response? That moment as the roller-coaster tips over the edge at the top of the climb perhaps, or the moment when the surf board is picked up by the too-big wave.
A slug of adrenaline hit me, an unstoppable surge in my veins. I could feel it pass through my body the way you can feel too-hot coffee pass through your oesophagus. This is the thrill that thrill-seekers seek; the thrill that sends the roller coaster rider straight from the end of one ride to the queue for the next; the thrill that gets the surfer back out for the next wave.
I’d been here many times before.
And yet, not quite here.
Not this amount of fear; not this sick, cold feeling in my stomach; not this sense of being small, too small for what was about to happen. This needed a bigger man than me; this needed a hard-case, ex borstal/ex public school, corporal punishment addict.
“Come on then!” she said, and led me into the other room.
not all canes are created equal
What happened next is described here.
Leaving Imagination of the other room, lets me think the very best caning, causing his already known fear and pain! -for Her!