Last week the theme was marks and the very first theme for Kink of the week was spankings. Spankings in the past have left quite some beautiful marks on my bottom and on occasion the cane has marked me too. I can confidently say that I have a love-hate relationship with the cane. I love the marks it leaves on my bottom, but damn, I hate its pain.
I still remember the day that Master T bought the cane (thankfully we only have one). He stood at the stand, looking at the different canes, picking them up, holding them in His hands, weighing them and deciding which one He wanted to buy. I almost did not dare to watch, I was so nervous. I kept myself busy looking at other things in the store, hoping that my disinterest would make Him not buy any cane. I was so wrong.
From then on I have felt the cane on my bottom quite a couple of times. Mostly when Master T uses the cane, I have to count too. Counting makes me focus on the pain, whereas not counting might allow me to drift away into subspace and maybe not feel the hurt as much.
I like to be spanked and I like to be whipped. Yes, those hurt too, but with a spanking I mostly manage to relax and just accept the pain. When being whipped, it definitely hurts too, but it’s never as bad as with the cane. Does this mean that I avoid the cane at all costs? Oh no, it does not. One one occasion I even asked Master T to use it. The cane is definitely not a hard limit for me. It’s not like I’m smiling and jumping up and down with joy when I see the cane, but I try to take it as good as I can. I accept the moments when Master T decides it should be used.
In our D/s relationship the cane is not specifically used for punishment. However, sometimes I look upon it as an instrument for punishment. Maybe I do so because it hurts so much. Other times, even though I am on the edge of being afraid of the pain it causes, I also get incredibly wet when it is used on me. And when the caning stops? Then I want more.
I asked Master T whether He would write something for this post. Those who have met Him know He is a man of little words. This is what He wrote:
It pleases me to see how your body reacts when you feel the pain.
How you get tears in your eyes and how you long for more.
I like to use the cane because of its impact. It does not require much space to use. The only downside is the noise.
Even though He does not use a lot of words, these words of Him made me smile. I can picture His face in front of me as He smiles down on me while I have tears in my eyes. I always turn my head away, but He forces me to look at Him. He wants to see my eyes. He wants to see my tears. He wants to see my pain. Every time I cry, I am ashamed of my tears and every time He wants to see my tears and I see the expression on His face, my shame disappears.
Master T likes to use the cane because of its impact. I hate the cane because of its impact. I hate the pain but I love the marks. Maybe the words Jade use in her introductory post apply to me: I love to hate them (canes).
Another thing Master T mentioned is the noise. Yes, that is a problem in this house. With two kids still living at home and with both of them not being toddlers anymore, it is difficult to really get into serious sessions here at home. We have to make do with what we can, and sometimes we do take the risk to use the cane or the whip or Master T spanks me. But we keep any noise-related activities down to the minimum, which sometimes irritates me immensely. I totally understand and accept that it has to be this way for now, but there are moments when I really wish for us to be home without any kids or for the kids to be out of the house (it will be a couple of years before this dream comes true) and then, maybe then Master T can use the cane on me a lot more than He can now.
(Don’t get me wrong, I do love my kids!)
Having written that and thinking about my love-hate relationship with the cane, I wonder whether I should really be happy if the day comes when we have all the freedom I long for and I know the cane will be used more. Then again, I close my eyes and see this image in my mind: me, cuffed, on the bed, waiting for Master T to enter the room. In my hands I hold the cane, offering it to Him to use as He wishes.
(This photo was staged, but when He took the cane from me to put it back in His closet, I felt it’s sting once. “Ouch,” was my reaction and to that He said: “It’s just so you know it still works.”)
© Rebel’s Notes