the cane

I would like to share the most challenging way Sir spanks me. 

The Belt

As I’ve said before, the belt is Sir’s favorite thing, and possibly my biggest challenge. I struggle a lot with her cane, too, but that’s because she only uses it for punishments (when I’m already feeling remorse). Sir says she likes the control she feels when she wields it.  The leather snaps so audibly that we always have to be at least somewhat conscious of our surroundings.

The belt has brought me to tears in as few as three strikes. Sir is pleased by my sobs, and never lets up just because I’m crying. I’m grateful the position for a belting often puts my face deep in the bed sheets or pillows. Otherwise, my wailing and whimpering would be louder than the force of the leather. I wish I could shut my mouth, but Sir has a firm hand, and always makes sure to tell me I’m her good girl and did a good job taking it like she wanted me to. I’m the luckiest to be her girl.

I always feel like such a bad girl when I try to peek back at Sir to watch her spank me. Since the beginning, I’ve been given instruction to keep my gaze forward, and I do, but Sir has a mirror placed so close to the bed that I occasionally catch a view of our scene that’s not meant for my eyes. I wish I could interpret the look on her face, the focus she has when using my body the way she wants. I long to watch the movement in her arms and shoulders as she pulls the belt back and strikes, repetitively, at my backside.

Through years of being interested in D/s, I’ve enjoyed watching plenty of submissives take beatings, but it’s not about all that when Sir spanks me.  Instead, I am in my own space with nothing to contemplate but the sensation. I feel Sir’s gaze, occasionally, check my face for expression, but don’t get to watch from an outsider’s perspective. I just take what she dishes out and make sure to express an earnest, “Thank you, Sir,” when she’s all done with me.

We had talked about the possibility of taking photos since the first night we met at the ice cream shop. A dear friend of Sir’s is a talented photographer, and she is really into the idea. Having never had the opportunity to play like this on film, I was intrigued. The idea of seeing my D/s life from another’s perspective hadn’t crossed my mind at this point, but I happily nodded and agreed that it sounded like a lot of fun.

A wild winter, snowier than ever, interrupted many of our plans to play at events, meet up with friends, and generally express our kinks anywhere outside of the home. This was great in its own way- we obviously both love to play house, and really got a feel for what fits best for us. (Not to mention the extra appreciation we both felt for the sun when Sir took me on vacation to Puerto Rico- but that will perhaps be appropriate to discuss in another post.)

Sir had made plans to get together with her photographer friend one afternoon that her roommates would be out of town. We talked a little about what to expect, what kinds of shots we might want to take, and how Sir would like me to express gratitude for the time and effort that would soon go into photographing us. I was nervous, as he is the first good friend of Sir’s that I’ve actually met. Minutes after his arrival, I was told to disrobe and Sir got the rope. I cleaned off the living room table, as the afternoon light was excellent in the front of the house.

Sir gently began wrapping my body in her rope, and tugged my arms up backward behind my head. She laid me gently down on the table and went to get her cock. Her friend was unobtrusively taking shots nearby, and Sir filled me with her cock, bound on a table, on display for the first time.

We soon moved on to the kitchen, where I had been preparing lentil soup throughout the morning. Sir leashed me to the stove, which I love, and a few more images were captured of me kneeling for my Dominant. When we switched to the bedroom, Sir got out her belt. She had me assume hands-and-knees on the bed, and I heard the familiar jingle of the belt buckle land on the bed beside me. Sir then placed it on my back, strapped her cock back on, and looped the belt around my neck. She forcefully tugged me backward out of my position and on to her cock. More images were unobtrusively captured of me bound, filled and on display.

All of us chatted about what images were left to capture, and I suggested a few of her beating me. She cuffed my wrists and ankles to her under the bed restraints and grabbed the cane. Three strong strikes landed across my cheeks and I whispered an exhaled “Sir” under my breath. Sir picked up the belt and continued from there. I’ve never been beat like this in front of anybody besides my Dominant. Again, I was lucky to be face down in the pillows and I whispered to Sir that she would soon make me cry. A few more hard strikes over those left from the cane, and she relieved me.

Sir crawled her naked body over me, still bound to the corners of the bed, and whispered sweet things into my ears. Though our photographer does not like to share photos until he is finished editing them, we quickly peaked through our images from the day. One stood out in particular, and we finally have it to share. His lens captured what the bare eye cannot quite comprehend. Here is the belt at the exact moment my cheeks received the blow from Sir.

Should’ve worshipped her sooner

Between shoveling cars out of snow, Sir and I had a great weekend together. At this point, we’re “out” to many friends (though we haven’t met many of each other’s folks). For her birthday, I planned to be of service for a few consecutive days.

First up was testing my kneel. I had one prior opportunity to practice for Sir, and was not so far from my specific measurements. We’ve discussed which toys we like and dislike, and Sir knows of my disinterest in the cane. She decided on one corrective caning for every 1/16 inch out of balance. I was nervous, and according to Sir, “We both knew you weren’t going to do so well.” The tape measure does not lie- forty canes. She acknowledged the disappointment in my eyes, gave me a kiss on the head and said, “Get the cane momma.” The first ten came before bed. I counted them off obediently and Sir admired the distinct red lines on my ass that followed. Thirty canes remained for the morning, just after I brewed Sir her morning beverage, presenting it with another kneel at the bedside. I sensed Sir’s compassion for me, and these strikes seemed to go by ever more quickly than the first ten. Though, I lost count around 25-28, which made me feel contrite.

After late breakfast, I wished her off to work and had a long list of duties to finish before she returned. I picked up her pants from the tailor, bought groceries for the week, prepped the vegetables, baked granola and muffins, cooked rice for weeks ahead, made food for the cats (yes, really), and managed to have a chicken roasted with sweet potatoes and veggies warm, ready to eat for her arrival. I greeted Sir with a grin and offered an old fashioned (her favorite). She was pleased with the amount of work I’d accomplished in a few hours, even though the ironing had hardly been touched. After our meal, I cleaned up and ironed until 9pm as Sir relaxed in the living room.

In bed that night, my guts were a flutter with enthusiasm for how well our weekend was going. I waited until the lights were off to ask, “Sir, would you please spank me? I think I need it tonight.” “Oh yeah, momma, why is that?” I struggled to find the words to express the butterflies in my stomach. This seems to be working so perfectly, I must need to be put in my place. “I assume you want me to use my hand?” Sir asked. “You can use whatever you’d like, Sir.” Turns out, she’d picked up a gorgeous wooden paddle from Etsy just this week.

I was instructed to retrieve it from the closet and sprawl out over Sir’s lap. A mix of hand spankings and paddles ensued, Sir told me I was a good girl and we ended up fucking until much later than we intended on going to bed. Although I asked please, Sir decided I was not allowed to come. 

On Sunday, I had permission to begin my day with my head between her thighs (even before the coffee and kneel). Sir told me she was proud of me for coming around to the spankings, and presented me with a pink butt plug. It was honestly my first time wearing one, and I moved cautiously about my morning. While she showered, I made us breakfast. It is so damn satisfying to watch Sir enjoy the meals I prepare. We stopped at the local winter farmer’s market to pick up some final items for the meals I was instructed to plan for Sir.

Returning home, she told me to take off my pants and panties and lay face down on the bed. My ankles and wrists were secured to its corners, and a scarf tied around my eyes. I felt Sir’s belt land next to me on the mattress. The belt is Sir’s favorite thing, and probably my biggest challenge. After five minutes of beating, she reminded me that not much time had passed and there was plenty more to go. I’ve learned it does not take long to bring me to tears. I tried to take deep breaths, almost choking on the bed sheets as I dug my face further into them, sobbing. The thing with each beating is there is always an end. My body is left warm; My mind, quiet. Sir crawled on top of my bound, exposed body to whisper that I did a good job and she was again very proud. She removed my blindfold, released my limbs, and fucked me deep with her cock until I shook and came all over. “You see how wet you made me, momma? I want you to lick me clean.” “Yes, Sir.” (This is my new favorite responsibility.)

I made the bed with fresh sheets, fixed dinner and had only the bedroom floor left to clean. Frustrated with the vacuum, I opted to wash her floors with a rag and a bowl of soapy water, on my hands and knees. Sir grinned as she watched, saying it was even more pleasing than the first time I made her bed.