From my very first spanking, I knew I want to experience all the spanking instruments. One stood out like no other: canes. I have no idea why, because there are tons of photos online that look like something straight from a slasher horror flick. Canes definitely have a reputation of being the most severe of spanking that inspire unaltered fear among subs and slaves. So of course my interest spiked. For couple of months I’ve been fascinated by this little instrument of torture, the weapon of choice of the Singapore government for their spanking sentence. Last week, my order of two rattan canes finally arrived, a 8 mm and a 10 mm. Although I never would have thought that my first encounter with the canes would be a punishment (in case you wonder what I did to deserve the cane, read it in my last post).
Alright, the canes. Let’s just say that the reputation is well-deserved. I received my punishment of thirty hits from the canes on Wednesday. The pain is something nearly describable. It stings like a m*therfucker, with a sharp edge to the pain and no residue fire (that I happen to love). The pain from the cane just practically leaves behind more pain. Mostly anything I can breathe through and relax, not the canes. I had no control whatsoever of tensing or working towards relaxing my muscles before the next hit lands. My surroundings blurred and everything became simply a world of pain. No breathers. It was Hell on Earth.
After Wednesday, I was scared of the canes. I have this unholy ability to get into trouble with my two Doms, but not even I manage to piss off two. The other one just want to test-drive the canes for fun. You know, sadistic evil-grin brand of good ol’ fun mastered by Dominants. So on Friday, just two days after my cane punishment, like a good little sub that I am, I carried them to my Dom’s place like a maiden offering her virginity to the Devil. To say it hurt would be an understatement. It hurt so badly that my masochistic side crawled out to play, out of the deep hole I buried her in. I usually don’t let my maso out because she gets me into trouble. Once she’s out, my sense of self-preservation goes out of the window. No pain would be enough, no pain would be too much. I would become extremely vulnerable, with not nearly enough wit to say no if a Dom decides then to abuse his power over me. I had bad experience about that once before. This time around, I did feel safe and taken care of. The line of my limit did become a little blurred, without my maso-side in full display, I would have said “Yellow” already (yellow means I can take more but not any harder). I would discuss more in detail about Friday later in another post, because while being a little chaotic (in my head that is), definitely painful and terrifying, it did give me more confidence to let my masochist out more.
After Friday, I was thoroughly and completely fucking terrified of the canes. I literally cringe from the memory of them on my skin. And I mentally involuntarily take a step back from the sight of a Dom holding one. “Get the canes”, finally, a threat that would work on me. I don’t care how pretty marks they make. Canes are evil.