I hesitated about posting on this subject, because I’m sure I won’t be saying anything new. Lots of people have discussed it before this…it’s been an implement of correction for hundreds of years. What’s more, I have very little direct experience on the subject, so please don’t take what I say in the spirit of being any kind of instruction, okay?
The reason I decided to write about my experience was in case there was anyone else wondering about it. Or even NOT wondering about it. *bg* See, for most of my kinky years I’d never really had any desire to try the cane. I would read about other people trying it, but not with any deep interest, and I never felt an unrequited longing for it. With so many other implements out there to enjoy, it wasn’t like there was anything missing, you know?
I think part of the reason for my lack of interest was because I grew up in America. Places like the United Kingdom or some countries in Asia have a long-standing tradition of using the cane, and so people from those areas grow up with a definite attachment to (or hate for, or fear of) the implement. But it was completely foreign to me, so it didn’t have the same “charge” associated with it. And seeing some of the photos out there of horribly bruised bottoms or tramlines that split the skin (I try to avoid them, but you know how they pop up on some kinky sites) made me pretty certain that I didn’t want to play at that level of
intensity. Of course I’d heard that it was possible to wield it less harshly, but it was never really necessary for me to confirm that personally.
But see…I fell in love with an Englishwoman. *g* One who played with such things in her early years, and so knew the pleasure that could be found with it. As well as how “serious” it could be used too. I trust TMT completely, so when she suggested she bring one over on her next visit, I was totally open to trying it. She reassured me that I could change my mind at any time, but like I said, I trust her completely. Of course it didn’t help that she teased me weeks before coming with questions like, “What is a velvet pillow good for?” (I guessed the obvious, to sit a sore bottom on, but no, it turns out it’s good for practicing one’s strokes on! Yikes.)
As it happened, she arrived with two canes. They were of different lengths, so of different flexibilities, but the ultimate limiting factor was being able to fit them into her suitcase. I’m sure one longer than what I experienced (about 28 inches) would be even whippier….I’m not sure I want to know what that feels like, however. *LOL*
The cane calls for a certain formality, and that’s the way it was introduced to me. I won’t go into the details of what I was punished for…suffice it say that even though I don’t live out a domestic discipline relationship, there are times when my “Sometimes Top” makes me very aware of my mistakes. *g*
I was bent over the end of a bed, as stretched out as my muscles would allow. I was definitely nervous — I had no idea what to expect. Even though I had confidence in TMT’s abilities and her basically gentle nature, I wasn’t so sure about my own tolerance. I had no idea how I’d react!
One thing about being bared in that position — for a cane — it certainly makes you feel vulnerable. Which was probably the intention, of course. Then I felt it, tapping on my cheek. It is one resilient piece of wood, let me tell you. (Okay, okay, rattan is technically a grass. But it damn well FEELS like a stick and not a blade of Bermuda, you know?) She’d given me a warm-up (a damn thorough spanking in itself), so my senses were already heightened. And then she gave me a few “lesser” strokes, and checked with me to see how I was doing. Lorrrd, even the light taps gave me an indication of how powerful an instrument it was.
The first real stroke (and I’m not ashamed to admit it was nowhere near a full swing) was a revelation. There is an impact when it lands, a depression of your flesh, which is pretty much what you’d expect if a thin rod landed swiftly against your cheeks. It does hurt. But precisely 2 seconds later, BELOW the skin level, there follows an amazing deep burn. I’ve never felt anything like it. I gasped, and was able to appreciate in the pause that followed that this is a very special implement.
Then, behind me, TMT whipped it up and down at full speed. There was a liquid whooshing sound as it displaced air in a blur, and every muscle (and orifice!) in my body tightened. The logical part of me knew perfectly well she would never hit me at that velocity. But my limbic brain — the animal part related to fear and mating — was ready for fright and flight! There were more strokes, ones that left behind the oft-described double-edge weal, and for a couple of days after I had reminders deep down whenever I sat.
But each stroke, the whole experience, was a unique combination of apprehension, burning, relief, and arousal. My body took me on a rollercoaster of sensation, and a slight rush at the end to find I survived it. *bg* I played relatively lightly, but it was just right for me. And yes, I’d love to do it again. Furthermore, I found myself wanting to try it out from the other side. TMT generously allowed me to practice on her…and then she gifted me with the canes when she left. (Thank you, Darling. *kiss* It was a touching surprise.)
They are tricky to use, and I definitely need more practice. But I’ll find myself a velvet pillow….and Fizzy better be on her best behavior! *eg*
Edited to add: One example of how the cane can be used “intimately” was a moment after TMT had lined up 4 perfectly placed tramlines on my rear end. They weren’t done one after another, but spread out (in time, not in geography *bg*), so that my whole body was ablaze with sensation by the time she was done. And then she lay the cane diagonally, crossing the lot of them, and said softly, “This is how one would do the five-bar gate, darling.”
And I knew, without her having to say it, that she wasn’t going to land that last stroke. She was just illustrating, by relying on my imagination, what it would feel like if a final stroke crossed the other already-throbbing weals in my skin. I shivered — both at the thought of the fiery pain, and the gentleness in her voice. She knew both the suggestion and restraint would be arousing….there was no need to carry out the threat. It was, in spite of the formality of position and the implement, quite an intimate moment.
It also made me wonder if I might one day want to see what the five-bar gate would feel like. At the moment no, it was enough to fuel the fantasy. But maybe some time in the future? Ah well….that’s a post for another day. 🙂