You and the swan will float upon
A cloud of pink ice cream
Where every star is a candy bar
And the moon is a marshmallow dream
Lyrics from Cotton Candy Land by Elvis Presley

Saturday night.

Like the past weekends, we are together. No one else in the house, which gives us the freedom we have craved for years. We were both tired when we went to bed at 1am, and when I returned from the bathroom there were no implements on the bed like there were the previous week. Master T went to the bathroom and when he returned, he asked me whether I wanted to feel the cane or not.

“I thought you were the one to decide about that,” I said, and I know I was bratty.
“Yes, I am,” he said, and stood up. I was still in bed scrolling on my phone and glanced sideways. He had the plastic cane in his hand, the one I fear.
“Oh no no no,” I protested, “it’s far too early to use that one. That one hurts far too much.”

While I talked, I was nervously laughing, and I continued to do so and protest when he told me to get out of bed and bend over.
“I will first use the RVS one, to warm you up a bit,” he said.
I was okay with that, but still kept in the back of my mind that he will also use the plastic one, and if he could mark me with the deep impact RVS cane, what would he do with the stingy and oh so painful plastic one?

While bent over we had an yellow moment, as my wrists just hurt too much after leaning on them for a couple of minutes. It would be much better to have a spanking bench, I thought in that moment. Master T told me to lie down on the bed. By now he had the plastic cane in his hand.

“Careful please,” I begged, laughing nervously again, “very, very careful.”
“I will be careful,” he said and started tapping my bottom with the cane. It actually didn’t feel so bad, but deep down I knew there would be pain. He tapped me a bit harder, covering both buttocks, then a bit harder again. It still felt okay, until two strikes landed on my bottom, one left, one right, and I rolled away.

“Ouch, that hurt!”
The stingy pain lingered for quite some time, and only when it ebbed away a bit, I rolled back onto my front. Again he started tapping my bottom with the cane.

“Careful… careful…” I said.
“I’m careful,” he said.

my bottom with some cane marks on it
Not the best image (made with a mobile phone in low light) but I definitely like those marks…

I tightened my muscles as he tapped a bit harder.
“Just think about marshmallows,” he said and continued to tap, “marshmallows are soft.”

Now tell someone to think of something, or not, and they do. I thought about marshmallows and how soft they are and how it wouldn’t hurt if he hit me with those and… hot damn that hurt.
“Ouch,” I said and rolled away.
“Yep, I’m out of marshmallows.”

He had this serious expression on his face, and my bottom was hurting and I realized while thinking of those damn marshmallows I must’ve relaxed my muscles, which was his cue to strike me. I looked at him, and laughed; felt the tears sting and laughed some more.
“I don’t know whether I want to laugh or cry,” I say.
He smiled, waiting for me to roll back onto my front again.
“Stupid marshmallows,” I mumbled when I was back in position, and the tapping resumed…

© Rebel’s Notes

The September Song Project

8 thoughts on “Marshmallows

  1. Lovely. This was both cruel and wonderfully intimate. Really spoke to the sadist inside me, and I’m sure it’ll speak to any masochist out there too.

  2. Your butt is just amazing in that photo! I haven’t taken a cane in a long time and I was nervous just thinking about it. You did better than I would have at this point!

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