Terror of the Cane! (Or: How to make a caning sexy)

I’ve been meaning to write about the cane, and how it can be used in ways that make it just the right amount of scary. It should be a bit scary, and there should be a sense of milestone and achievement about taking the cane, but it shouldn’t be so scary that it gets in the way of it being sexy.  

No really, you can always trust a man with a cane in his hand...

No really, you can always trust a man with a cane in his hand… (From Restrained Elegance )

The truth is that the cane’s reputation is somewhat more fearsome than the reality. I know it’s all very well for a dom to say that, since I’m never going to be at the receiving end of a caning. But doms learn by paying attention. 

What I’ve learned about making the cane not too scary is that you talk about it first.

A dom about to introduce someone to the cane should mention that it doesn’t have to be as scary as it’s made out to be. The dom should say – and they’d better be clear on this in their own minds – that they’re going to take care. There are rewards for the submissive, like the hotness of the “you’re going to get the cane” scenario, the sharp clear sensation of a cane-stroke, and the beauty of the cane stripes afterwards. 

How getting consent works depends on your relationship. With Arethusa and I, there wasn’t any prior discussion because it wasn’t that kind of relationship. I was her master and (conditions applied) consents had already been given. It was a punishment caning and not for pleasure. Well, not hers, anyway. I’d warned her that I’d cane her if she missed another assignment deadline, and she did. So there was nothing to discuss.

Instead I told her how disappointed I was, produced the cane, flexed it in an alarming manner and told her to get her clothes off and bend over the table. She could have used her safe word or said it was a hard limit, or she could obey. She chose to obey. Neither of us had any doubt that she would.

In other relationships I’ve talked about it first, and introduced the cane in a sexual context rather than a punishment one. Of course  a punishment scenario is a sex scenario too, just a couple of layers of rhetoric deeper down. Anyway, the wise dom goes at the submissive’s speed, and doesn’t just get driven by their own desires. Or not completely.

Anyway, once they’ve got informed consent, the dom should usually start with a slow warm-up before introducing the cane. The idea is to focus on things that the dom knows the submissive enjoys. Usually, that means using hand-on-skin at first, and some of the more familiar instruments that the submissive partner already likes.

At some stage the dom switches to the cane, but it should be with continuity, not with a sudden “and now we’re going to get serious!” change of pace and mood.

caned-russianThe idea is to keep the intensity of the cane low, at first. I like to give four or five light strokes, like a drummer using brushes on his drums, and then one stroke a bit harder. Repeat, and repeat, for a long time. Without going harder. Usually, the submissive getting the cane will find that quite pleasant, in a floaty way.

Stay there for a while, with lots of stroking in general and cunt-stroking (or cock-stroking, if that’s your submissive’s equipment) in particular, and the submissive and the cane will settle down together. After a while – the dom should be watching his or her submissive very closely – it may be time to increase the intensity and make the strokes a bit harder.

The dom’s job is to watch the submissive and back off any time it looks or feels like it’s hurting too much for it to be sexy, and take it back to the level the submissive was enjoying before. Towards the end the intensity should increase, and the strokes should get harder. But the aim is to get pink stripes, not red, or raised (much) or bruising.

The dom shouldn’t be too ambitious the first time, but the next time, taking and applying all the things that worked best the first time, it can probably be taken all the way up to leaving marks that outlast the caning by a few hours and have it be sexy, at least for submissives who like impact play at all. 

By the way a hard caning leaves marks that last over a week. That’s not a good idea for a first time, though you will know your own relationship. Usually, with a first, pleasure-focussed caning, a few hours is fine.  

caneThe stripe in the First Strike picture is unusual, because it was Arethusa’s first, and it’s a punishment stroke. There was no warm-up and it was a firm to medium hard stroke. The marks of that caning lasted about four days.

It’s not the stroke you’d deliver first if you were wanting to demonstrate that the cane is good, sexy fun. What I wanted to demonstrate was, “You want to graduate? From now on do your assignments on time, or you’ll do them standing up!”

But even then, as I said, she finished up liking the fact that she was a girl who got the cane, though not exactly loving each instant of impact. 

The point is, based on reactions and comments from submissives, there’s ways of making a caning pleasurable, and the cane probably is worth exploring some time, Especially for submissives who like impact play but are freaked out by the cane’s reputation.

I'm nerd enough to have three canes. The bamboo, the lighter rattan (whose effect can be seen above) and the heavier dragon cane, also rattan. But the point with a cane is not the implement but how it is used.)

I’m nerd enough to have three canes. The bamboo, the lighter rattan (whose effect can be seen above) and the heavier dragon cane, also rattan. But the point with a cane is not the implement but how it is used.)

Those submissive should make sure they explore it with someone they really trust and who knows that they find the idea scary.

The dom has to get the set (the emotional and physical expectations), the setting (the place where it happens and the submissive’s position while being caned) and the emotional flow just right.

The dom has to take care of the submissive before, during and afterwards.

There’s much more to be said, but on the day lust and love should do most of what’s needed. 

Note:

This post began as a reply to sub-bee (so hat-tip to her), when she commented on the First Strike post.  

Dental porn

Ah, there's porn of it. Thank god.

Ah, there’s porn of it. Thank god!

Sorry. It’s been a while since I posted. I’ve had a hole bored in my jawbone and a steel pin inserted into the hole. I’ll get a crown some time in December.

That was on Tuesday. The rest of Tuesday was a write-off, and so, surprisingly, was Wednesday as well. Probably because of the pain-killers more than the pain. 

I was a bit more battered than I thought I was. Battered like an old car, not like a fish. Or a battery. I was the batter-ee.

Now I’m still trickling the odd bit of blood, and I’m guessing that the floor of an abatoir must taste a lot like the inside of my mouth.

But I’m feeling a lot better. Thanks!

My main memory of the whole thing was the hair, hands, mouth and breasts of the dental assistant who was using one of those slurping machines to suck out the blood and bits of bone. I suppose it’s natural to focus on the best life has to offer, at a time when most of the incoming sensory information is (literally) bloody horrible. 

Maybe the reason why dentists tend to have pretty girls as assistants is so that patients, at least those who are susceptible to pretty girls, have something to distract them from the gory goings-on in their mouths. 

And male dentists also like to have a pretty girl about the place, since the inside of someone’s mouth, when that person needs dental treatment, ain’t that pretty at all.

I’ve been to two women dentists, by the way, and neither of them had dental nurses. So dentistry, like political assassinations, can be done by one person acting alone. 

I know that dental nursing is a skilled job, and it shouldn’t be turned into a wank fantasy.  

It is required by law that this picture be captioned, "Open wide." (I fought that law, but the law won.)

It is required by law that this picture be captioned, “Open wide.” (I fought that law, but the law won.)

But the people who get that job tend to be young, pretty and female, which isn’t entirely fair on job-seekers who aren’t. That’s not the fault of the pretty young women; it’s more the fault of, oh, you know, patriarchy.

In some ways it’s odd that dental fetish is such a strong theme in porn. I guess it’s the hint of bondage in the chair, though the patient is held in place by the situation, not by actual bonds. There’s the appealing contrast between the angular sterility of the room, and the curved, not-sterile human body. Cold colors against warm skin, and so on. And, of course, the dentist commands and the patient obeys.

For me, no matter how charming I might think I am, I know that dental assistant has seen the inside of my mouth at its bloodiest and worst. That’s got to be a profoundly repellant sight. 

There must be guys who spring out of the chair once they’ve got the all-clear, flashing their most brilliant smile at the nurse and trying to engage her in witty, flirtatious conversation. But me: Nah. Just … no.

The elegance of whipped cream

This blog, and this blogger, have pretty much turned into the Gretel fan club. If it’s not about Gretel, her cleverness, wit, ethical base and, oh, also hotness, I don’t currently want to write it or think about it. 

The photo below was taken before we went out for dinner last night. So it’s just a playful belt spanking you can see glowing so very prettily there. Nothing brutal. Add very stylish knickers, skin the colour of cream, at least in the unwhipped areas, and you have a really elegant image.

She wore a “spank me and fuck me” little kilt to the restaurant, with fishnets, and attracted a bit of attention. The proprietor even came out and did all the things that gauchos do instead of kissing a lady’s hand, when they want to show off to a hot girl.

So I had that thing men get when they’re squiring the hottest girl in the room around. Not mature, I guess, but fun.     

Anyway, here’s Gretel being elegant.

gretel elegant

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 109: Lynette, her cunt’s desire, and a corridor

I’d just accused Lynette, come up the stairs unshowered to watch me cane Raylene, of smelling good. I’d had a girlfriend not so long before, who’d have been horrified by that. I guess she’d taken “female hygiene” advertising seriously. Which was why I’d decided not to risk it with Lynette. And then done just that. So when Lynette squirmed out of our embrace, I knew I’d fucked it up.

pittShe pulled a face and sniffed an armpit. One of hers, I mean. She pulled a worse face. “I smell like the women’s changing room at the gym.”  

So I said, “That’s what I meant! You smell great!”

“Hmmmmm. Well, you’re the weirdo. I knew that.” 

“No, really, you do. I mean, smell great. I can’t comment on the women’s changing rooms. And you look great. Hot. In a, um, dignified, poised way. Umf.” The ‘umf’ was me deciding to shut up and take her back into an embrace.

Her belly pressed against my cock again. She put her hands back on my ass so I did the same for hers. I liked her ass, small but muscled. Yeah. I pressed my fingers, hard, into those muscles. She made a satisfied sound. So I said, “Come. Back. Here.” As though it was an order. 

She took her hands off my ass for a second and pushed me. Then she came back, and my ass resumed being grabbed. “I was already here. That was like telling a sleeping dog to play dead. And Raylene’s the one who obeys orders. I don’t. Try to give me a real order and you’d be sorry. I mean it.” 

I nodded. “Yeah. That wasn’t an order.” 

I don't know how the women's changing rooms smell, except in general terms. But the internet thinks it knows what they look like

I’ve never been in a gym’s women’s changing room. I guess they smell like one sweaty woman multiplied by a dozen or so, plus air freshener. But the internet thinks it knows what they look like

Lynette decided to let that pass for agreement, though she knew what I’d conceded and what I hadn’t.

We were playing, showing off to each other that we could both give and interpret ambiguous signals. As ambiguous as you can be while holding each other’s asses.

It’s not everyone’s favourite form of flirtation, but we seemed to be enjoying it. And we were liking each other for that.

She said, “All right. For now. Ummm… You’re the gate-keeper, aren’t you?”

“The what? Oh. You mean, I control access to Raylene?” 

“Yeah. I want to fuck Raylene. Well, you know why. She’s lovely. She’s barking mad, if you ask me, I mean this thing she’s doing with you. But she’s seriously fucking hot. ” I nodded. That was true. She said, “Course I want her.”

“And you think -“

“You’re the gate-keeper. I don’t get to fuck Raylene unless you give her permission. Actually, you could tell her to, even if she didn’t want to fuck me. And she would, wouldn’t she?” She didn’t mean she wanted me to do that. She was just pointing out what a bastard I was.

 

Nudity warning! Food for Thought Friday #7

The Food for Thought Friday team is asking:

Nudity

Are you at ease being naked? Do you feel more comfortable clothed or unclothed? Can you explain why you feel this way? 

Response

I’m at ease with being naked. It helps that I’m a straight man, and that heterosexual women seem prepared to overlook flaws that a gay man perhaps wouldn’t. So I try to keep fit, but my fitness does fluctuate. 

That doesn’t seem to stop some women from desiring me. There’s a real difference between my self-assessment of how sexy I look naked, and the assessment of most straight women who get to look at me naked. They don’t run out of the room screaming. Well, mostly, with honourable exceptions. (Those ones I chase. It’s part of my fitness program. Er, I mean that in a playful sense, not the dangerous-stalker sense.) 

He seems happy to be a naked man on High Street

Happy to be a naked man on High Street

I don’t understand why some women fancy me, but once I understood that it’s their judgement that matters, not mine, and that they were prepared to give me a pass mark, I got comfortable with it. I’m not going to question it. 

Whether I prefer to be clothed or not depends on where I am. On High Street I don’t often prance around naked, because it would only upset some people without any great benefit to me.

(Also, I live up a mountain, and most of the year it’s c-cold. If some girl was overwhelmed with lust at the sight of my naked body in mid-winter, and grabbed my penis, it’d probably snap off. (If it was warmer it might come off. Tish-BOOM.)

In my bedroom, I’ll be naked in a woman or girl’s presence once t’s clear that it wouldn’t be actually weird. When sex is at least on the cards. Because being coy strikes me as bullshit, and because either she’ll have undressed herself or I will have undressed her, so by that stage I’ll be feeling over-dressed. Alternatively, I may undress first if we’re being sexual but she seems to be feeling nervous about her body. It can help make the thing more relaxed, especially on a first time. 

And she seems happy to be a naked girl on the street.

And she seems happy to be a naked girl on the street.

The thing is, I like girls to be naked when we’re being intimate. I really, really like naked girls. Quite enthusiastically, really.

A girl in lingerie, or dressed as a Japanese schoolgirl or something, is very charming. But once we’re in bed, or nearly, I prefer bare female skin more than anything else in the known universe. And I have to be naked too, so that I can feel her skin everywhere, and she can feel mine.

Especially when fucking. This may not be a terribly original thing for me to say, but it’s just true.

That’s all.

 

f4tf_button2

Mouth to mouth 14: “I’m a virgin” she said. “Well, my ass is.”

king qingA long silence followed before Qing reacted. Slowly, as if she were a statue, unused to moving, she raised herself and pointed her ass at me. Her slender weight shifted from her tummy onto her knees. I imagined her like an ancient treebranch, pushed into reluctant movement by the wind and making creaking noises.

That thought was stupid enough to make me laugh.

Qing frowned at me, but she was puzzled, not angry. “So what’s so funny?”

“Ah, you, actually. What’s so hard about getting your ass up?”

She shook her head. “Well, it’s all right for you. You’re not the one about to get her asshole fucked.”

I said, befuddled, “Wha-?” I hadn’t known that either of us were going to get fucked up the arse, but now she’d mentioned it, if it had to be one of us I’d prefer it was her. Her arse was prettier, for one thing. But I hadn’t even mentioned her asshole, as far as I could remember. “What? But I didn’t say…” 

qing lordQing arched her back, her spine and slender ass bowed like a female cat presenting to a tom, and I stopped speaking about whatever I’d been intending to say. She said, “And it’s like, it’s my first time for that too. I’ve never even been whipped before. Or tied up, either. I mean, it’s been incredibly hot just now, but… I hardly even know you. Uh. Um. Jaime!”

She produced my name with some triumph. I said, “very excellent,” and kissed her bottom, as one should.

Qing smiled, but she wasn’t going to be distracted. “Well, it’s a lot to take in. And I’m a virgin. Well, my ass is. I’m an asshole virgin. You’re really not worried about flooding me, are you? I mean, with new experiences, you know?”

I thought about saying something to the effect that she was so hot that I’d only be worried about flooding her with come. But I couldn’t scrape enough cheese off that. It’d sound terrible. If I said I didn’t believe that “having too many new experiences” was a real thing, then we’d have an argument. I thought how boring that would be, and my cock softened. 

I knew I should explain to her that by “get your ass up” I’d just meant her to present herself more submissively, and to give her an order so she could have the fun of obeying. If she wanted to. The content of the order hadn’t been important.

qing buggeredI wanted to be flippant about this, since it was all just a misunderstanding. But it was too late for that.

The idea of sliding my cock – well-lubed, no doubt – into her tight little anal tube had taken me over. I wanted to fuck Qing’s little ass. I wanted to hear her yelp if it hurt, and her screams when she came.

It was going to happen.

Mouth to mouth 7: Squeezing a small girl’s ass

We walked together in clear, chill moonlight, Qing leading the way, through various people’s backyards. Qing sometimes suffered me to have an arm round her waist but mostly she walked beside me. Separately.

Her apparent stand-offishness puzzled me. She’d said she was about to fuck me. She could change her mind, but I couldn’t see any reason why she would. Yet. I hadn’t had time do something stupid and repulsive enough to change her mind.

kiss kissAs far as I could tell, we were still heading for her bed. But the emotional ambience just wasn’t very sexy. 

So I stopped and pointed out the moonlight shining through the trees, like an idiot. Then I kissed her, less stupidly. She smiled and kissed back, with something that felt like passion, pushing her breasts against the bottom of my rib cage.

Then she broke away from me. But afterwards we walked closer together.

It seemed that when I wasn’t actively pushing her sexually she’d start to lose interest, but that she liked it when I did push her barriers. So I slid my hand down the back of her pyjamas, and let my fingers explore under her knickers.

qing grabassEventually I had my hand on the skin of her left buttock, which was as apple-like, with that concavity at the side, as I’d guessed. Qing was firm in my hand, and once she’d started walking I could enjoy the movement of her muscles.

Qing said, “okay, you do fancy me. And I bet you did follow my ass out the door.”

“I did. I said so. But I’d have followed you if you’d walked out backwards. Or, I don’t know, on skates. Sideways.”

“Fair enough. My place is … Unhh!”

The ‘Unhh’ was because I’d slid my fingertips between her buttocks. And stroked her cunt. My fingers had found soft, petalled folds, and stroked and slid along them. Qing was gloriously wet.

Taste of cunt

In the Raylene story, I had a go at describing the aroma of aroused cunt.

I wrote: 

“a warm, woman-ish smell, the middle essence of almond and the blandness but not the sweetness of banana, but those smells made of animal and not vegetable.”

arousedBut I’ve heard from one of my critical readers that this description doesn’t ring a bell. And, since she’s a cunt-owner herself, I’m prepared to accept her criticism. 

Part of the problem is that what I wrote is so impressionistic that it’s almost a private language.

What do I mean “the middle essence of almond”? Well, in perfume that’s not the high note, or the low note. In almonds the middle essence is a sort of warm smell, with no strong taste of its own, except for that slightly mealy warmth. What does “the blandness but not the sweetness of banana” mean? Is “bland” even a taste? Well, I know what I mean, but it’s not necessarily going to communicate to someone else’s tongue, nose, brain and vocabulary.

And using vegetable comparisons to describe an animal taste, that wonderful exudation of the flesh, doesn’t help with clarity either. 

But I can’t think of any animal analogues. I don’t think cunt tastes or smells of fish, for example. 

1950s-housewifeANNNN-yway, I’m going to organise a cook-off, with people male and female who like the taste of cunt.

We’ll be mixing – not necessarily cooking – various ingredients in different combinations. If anyone has any suggestions, for a recipe that tastes like cunt, I’ll gratefully try it.

I will report on results. There could be a great commercial and scientific breakthrough, here. 

 

Wine, women and song

wine women songI’m doing a lot of woodwork at the moment. Perhaps too much, because I saw this image, and the first thing I thought was, “oh hell, I’ve still got to knock together some wine shelves for the cellar. Hey, that’s good wood, though. Wonder if I can get any locally? Oh yeah, pretty women.”

PS: The next episodes of Raylene’s story will be coming in the next couple of days. I don’t have time to write them tonight. Life is much better than, say, this time last year and I’m a cheerful dom with a song in my heart. Probably “Sweet dreams are made of this”. The song, I mean. But I’m shagged out from doing things related to earning a living, and I’m off to bed. Alone.