rattan cane

Christmas Day Whipping

We had a lovely Christmas and hope that you all had the best of Seasons.

It was marred only once, last night, when I was sharp with Hannah. She said nothing. And, I thought, the incident had been dismissed. We had a wonderful Christmas and, at cocktails, as the turkey cooked, a great deal of fun together. Hannah went to put in the leeks and said the turkey needed to rest for fifteen minutes.

“So now I can attend to your rudeness last night.” said Hannah. “You are going to get such a spanking.”

She had a few more things to attend to in the kitchen and I removed myself to the terrace. I realized that, while I was quite sure I had been right, that didn’t matter. Hannah disagreed. And her silence, which I had taken as an admission she had been wrong had meant nothing of the sort. What it meant was that I had made her very angry.

In a few minutes I found myself following Hannah upstairs. As I knelt on the hardwood floor in front of her Hannah proceeded to explain, chapter and verse, exactly how I had been rude. She certainly took her time and by the time she said “Now get into position.” I was almost looking forward to my whipping simply to relieve the pain in my knees. She buckled my wrists to my ankles very tightly indeed.

I could tell from the force of her first warm up hand spank that this was pure punishment. Just a short warm up and she set in with measured strokes of the heavier rattan cane. As I kneel, trussed up, I have no control over my punishment. Hannah and I do not have a “safe word” because we are not playing. She found her rhythm and her force after two or three strokes and I had a full dozen good, hard slashes. Two or three were hard enough to lift welts. I was sweating and my eyes were watering. I was, perhaps, half a dozen strokes from crying.

Then she was done. She unbuckled me in silence.

“Thank you Hannah.” I said as I lay catching my breath.

Her love and discipline are the greatest gifts I get every year and how perfect to be reminded so firmly on Christmas Day.

Rattan cane for discipline

There really is a difference.

I found a source of rattan not so very far from our home. 32 inch lengths. Very in expensive.

I bought the lady of the house two lengths, one slightly thicker than the other. I might have drawn an interested glance or two as I travelled home but somehow two lengths seem less punishment cane like than one.

A bit of sanding and both are ready to go.

Critically, a rattan cane needs to be soaked for several hours or even a day or two. Rattan can easily dry and as it dries it loses some of its flex and, more importantly, most of its weight. A good soak restores both.

Having been caned several times with the rattan lengths I can safely say that they produce more sensation than any other implement Hannah uses on me. Which is not to say agony – for that the bath brush remains the mistress of pain – rather sensation in all its forms. Hannah is use getting the flex of the canes under control and there have been some memorable strokes which took us both by surprise.

The soaked canes are actually easier to control than they are dry and the greatly increased weight means as well as the snap of first contact there is a thudding finish to Hannah’s best strokes.

As with any new tool, the rattan lengths take a bit of getting used to. I have no doubt Hannah will master them. Practice makes perfect and it is my happy position to be used for practice.

Twenty light aiming strokes to bring Hannah’s eye in are actually quite pleasant. They bring the blood up in my bottom and trigger the wonderful sensation of complete submission. The weighting strokes which usually follow, where Hannah increases the force of her strokes and gauges my reaction to her severity brings and entirely different set of sensations. First, helplessness. We both know that she has the complete right to whip me until she is satisfied with the result. Second, deliciously, a frission of fear. I am afraid that I will not be able to endure my training. But then another, more wonderful sensation overwhelms me as the cane’s bit intensifies; complete surrender and embrace.

As Hannah whips she loves.

And one is about to be used on me for maintenance.