I know there are relationships where one person gives another disciplinary powers but no other rights. There’s to be no direct sexual contact. The disciplinarian can touch the person getting punished on the buttocks, but shouldn’t touch his or her genitals. Those relationships are supposedly non-sexual.

But there’s a reason why people doing bdsm for pleasure focus most discipline on the buttocks and upper thighs. Those areas aren’t just close to the genitals, they’re in direct contact. You can’t bring blood rushing to a man or woman’s buttocks without also bringing blood rushing to their genitals. You can’t warm a woman’s thighs without warming her cunt.

That’s just the physiology of it. The passion and intimacy involved in giving discipline or submitting to it is too intense, too personal, to be non-sexual.

As a side-issue, that’s one of the things I’ve never been able to understand about corporal punishment in schools in countries, like Saudi Arabia and the United States, that still haven’t banned it. What kind of a parent would let a strange adult enact dominance-submission rituals with their children, and then beat these children’s hands or buttocks? Are those parents insane? 

So I loved typing that sentence: “When I cane her, I cane hard.”

The woman I wrote it about both feared and loved the cane.

Most often I caned her as punishment for laziness or carelessness in her schooling or her training. Sometimes I just caned her because she has a great ass and I loved to watch the welts rise on her bottom and thighs, and to enjoy the way she writhed and plunged, grunted and squealed, when the cane landed. 

Being disciplined by me, for her good or my lust, made her feel safe, cared for and satisfied, and desperately cunt-greedy. 

So that phrase is about a world of entitlement. Caning her made her even more beautiful, and made her happy through her tears. I had the right to make that happen. It made her need my cock in her, urgently, wherever I chose to put it. So much heat and power. Such an entitlement.

You can work hard, and for years, to learn the skills, the right kinds of patience and strength, to try to make yourself into a man or woman who has something to offer a submissive. Something more than rope burns and an orgasm, good though those things are.

But good things don’t necessarily happen just because you want to deserve them. When bdsm brings you good things, it’s an extraordinary entitlement. It’s grace. 

“When I cane her, I cane hard,” I wrote.

It’s a faux-casual remark, isn’t it? Like, “Ah, I can never remember where I parked the damn Maserati.” 

Well, Maseratis are stylish cars. But a woman giving me the power to decide if she will be caned, and if so, how hard she will be caned, and the other rights over her that usually flow from that: that’s the most comfortable and elegant luxury item there is.

Obviously, if you have the right to cane, you’ve also acquired the right to use a paddle, a birch, a crop, your hand and so on, though you might agree not to use certain instruments that she particularly hates or fears.

More importantly, the intimacy of discipline includes sexual intimacy. A woman on a bed, lying on her front with her ass presented to be caned is also presenting herself to be fucked, and she and her disciplinarian both know it.

Mostly, men and women only want to be disciplined by someone they desire sexually. Sure, discipline-only, no-sex relationships exist, but I think even those are sexual, regardless of what the partners might say. Let’s leave that topic for another post.

When I can say of someone I desire, “When I cane her, I cane hard”, I may try to sound casual about it. But I’m amazed to live in a world in which something so wonderful can be true. 

No, Master, it’s just a cold. I should be ok tomorrow.

One of the things a Master has to do, when his slave is sick, is to get her some hot soup and other supplies from the shops and the chemist.

The surprising thing about that, like a lot of things about owning a submissive woman as property, is that it’s quite sexy.

It helps to make the ownership real, a bedrock fact of life.