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And Speaking of Hard Canings…
Over on The Spanking Writers Abel has posted a judicial caning story, which plays very effectively with left-handed and right-handed wielding of the implements. (A topic I find very close to my heart at the moment, as I keep absent-mindedly rubbing my left buttock while walking down the street.)
It also has this paragraph which just about describes my experience with getting through large sets of cane strokes:
Only two batches: twelve plus thirteen. Five lots of five: I can do that. Count down, do the maths, concentrate on the numbers, getting lower all the time. Blank one’s mind. Cry every fifth stroke. It’ll be almost done once they get to thirty. Every scheme, every calculation that the first, final girls had mentally computed as they’d waited, worth nothing as each individual lash cut in.
Honest truth. You just can’t keep count. You still try, but you can’t.
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6 Responses to “And Speaking of Hard Canings…”
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So true… I start off trying to count, but I usually only make it to 4 or 5 before I’m simply overwhelmed by the pain. And once I’ve lost count I have absolutely no idea where I am. Ten strokes? Fifty? A hundred? It’s truly (to use a tired Americanism that’s actually appropriate in this context) *awesome*.
BTW, I think I need a few more days (weeks?) before I’ll be finding that story hot, Adele!
Very very interesting
Bless your cotton socks, one just hopes it’s good for the soul if it’s no good for helping with the math.
Hmmm…. I understand what you’re saying, and there are certainly times when I have lost count… however, for the most part, the counting helps me. It gives me something to focus on so as to not concentrate so intently on the searing crimson agony of each stroke.
The cane lands hard, I breathe, count, and thank him. This allows a moment of rest in which the pain washes away from the landing site and I settle my mind. I find the counting helps me to not be overwhelmed by it, no matter how many strokes are delivered.
For one of my toughest canings, I inadvertently lost my place and counted ten whacks twice. And there have been times when the pace was so rapid I simply didn’t have time between lashes to count properly, though I don’t necessarily consider those to be examples of my not being able to keep tally. Interesting ideas though, makes me wonder which side of the fence other spankees sit on regarding counting cane strokes. Thank you very much for sharing. I can’t wait to see the film. :)
cheers,
brat
I vividly remember my first caning which I received several years ago. My ex-girlfriend/Domina took me to a F/m BDSM club where Dominas would volunteer their slaves to perform on stage. Some nine or ten of us waited naked in a corral while a Mistress demonstrated proper caning technique. I was the fifth one up so that I got a good chance to observe technique before I went up on stage.
The demonstration was, initially, nine strokes with the last three diagonally placed or “niners in a sixth-barred gate.” The Mistress emphasized accuracy and control. She started by walking slightly back and to the left; and, arm perfectly straight, placed the rod on the intended target the tip no more than two inches from the outside of the further buttock. At this point, she’d visualize where she wanted her stripe to land. The cane, though about 15 mm in circumference, was little more than a quarter over a meter long. She demonstrated the flexibility of even a 15 mm rattan (6 to 12 mm is more usual). She explained that any length above this was exceedingly difficult to control. She took the rod well back in a perfectly straight line, explaining the proper use, and alignment, of shoulder, arm and forearm, as well as the final flick of the wrist in a full range stroke. After each stroke, she let the cane rest for about five seconds on the cut she’d just laid on to get what she called the “full after effect.” She then waited about ten seconds before taking aim for the next stroke. This was necessary so that the pain had time to build exponentially after each stroke.
In between demonstrations, she took time to further explain her technique; and to take questions from the Mistresses in the audience. With each subject, she started exactly two inches beneath the crown of the buttocks. She placed each successive stroke 1 ½ to 2 inches beneath the preceding stroke. Each stroke broke the skin. When it came time for the last three transversal strokes she walked to the other side of the subject then proceeded to deliver a back-stroke at an adjusted angle. These last three diagonal or crisscrossed strokes, as patiently explained, were quite as patiently explained, hurt quite as much as the ones that came before. Of course, they opened up the preceding cuts in a fairly spectacular way.
After the third demonstration, the ante was upped to “twelvers in a nine-barred gate.” The addition of the three extra strokes more than doubled the intensity of the punishment. After the fourth demonstration, the Mistress explained that the intensity was further heightened if we were milked so that a state of sexual excitement/anticipation would not help us escape the pain. After that, one of the Women employed in the club would place a latex gloved hand up our asses, a pump over our stiff cocks, and milk us dry before we were placed in position. After the fifth a blindfold was added to further concentrate the senses. I was the seventh up so that you can imagine my dread and anticipation before I came up on stage.
As to position, feet together, legs and calves as straight as possible, legs slightly less than shoulder width, we were braced over a tall-backed chair without arm-rests, hands grasping the front legs as far down as possible so that our glut muscles would be as taut as possible. Due to the intensity of the caning, we were gagged, our wrists bound to the front legs of the chair wile the ankles were secured to the back legs. While the pain and intensity was indescribable, I was also in an incredibly heightened stage afterwards. My Domina bought an audio tape of the demonstration with an accompanying article with illustrations so that she was able to practice and experiment on me at her leisure.
There are a couple of typos in this. I apologize for my failure to proofread. The next to last line of the first full paragraph should have read “seventh one up.” Then, the phrase “were quite as patiently explained,” in the second and third to last lines is a repetition that should have been deleted.
This was in the early 90s. The club was a well known one in NYC between 9th and 10th Avenues which two days a week, at the time Tuesdays and Saturdays, was exclusively F/m.
At any rate, I forgot to mention a few minor points. The Caning Mistress at the demonstration mentioned that she preferred a straight to a crook handle in that it permitted a smoother execution of the final wrist action at the end of a stroke. I mentioned the exponential progression of successive strokes. There are about four or five stages of pain to a well placed cane stroke. Spacing the strokes almost thirty seconds apart, as described above, allows the stages to overlap. This, of course, reinforces the effect. Still, in this progression, strokes 7 to 9, though they still hurt like all hell, plateau in that you’ve reached that stage where, by the very law of polarity, extremes of pain and pleasure meet. Thus, the crisscrossed strokes are necessary to throw you back into the Abyss.
My Domina, over time, and much experimentation, refined her own technique; introducing modifications to what she’d learned. She did try a variety of canes, but always returned to the unfinished rattan with straight handle. I was required to “dress” the rod with linseed oil at specified times. It was supposed to have added “weight.” The difference was marginal, but it added to the ritual. The misconception that canes need to “drink” ruined a rod or two, but placing the top third of a rod in a crystal vase of water for several hours before a caning makes the end a strange metamorphosis between cane and single-tail. Changing from a nine to an eight-barred gate, while keeping the strokes at twelve, reduced the plateau strokes from three to two. A discipline mask was added for aural sensory depravation. There were others. Of course, the great benefit of all this, apart from that of totally sublimating myself to my Mistress, and being forced to transcend to higher levels, was to keep a careful journal of my experiences. Of course, though learned long before, it also reinforced that while one thinks with the mind one feels with the body.