Broken Cane

Amateurs break their toys. They play with ping pong paddles and cooking spoons and paint stirrers and other bits and pieces of whatnot that are never really intended to stand up to the stresses of serious impact play, and so they break their toys.
We have professionally crafted implements. They do not break.
I break, but the toys do not break.
I break in a variety of ways: my skin breaks, my resolve breaks, my emotions break. It is not uncommon for me to come to the end of a session drained, shaken, sweaty, bloody, teary, gasping for breath, completely without any resources left.
The paddles and whips and straps and canes, however, seem always to come through completely unscathed, whatever invectives and threats I might hurl against them. However dearly I might wish to see them serving as firelplace kindling, they remain ever sturdy and indestructible foes in my world.
Until yesterday morning.
We'd had a difficult session not too long ago. I'd not done well at all, so He'd strapped me down and restrained me against a repeat. Then He'd gone about administering what was an intense, but not a particularly over the top, paddling, strapping, and caning...
We've all been in emotional deep waters these last days and weeks and no matter what my logical intentions are going into a session, the actual event taps whatever I'm holding onto. It wasn't long before I was roaring and growling and snarling -- rages that I'd been incubating for a long time. I was well into it, fighting the restraints, determined to rip them apart.
He paid no attention at all, and laid into me with the lovely rattan cane that we bought when we were at Thunder in the Mountains. Soaked in linseed oil, that cane is marvelously flexible and whippy, and beautifully finished. It delivers a wicked sting. As I swore and snarled, He must have gone after me with a vengence -- because when it was all over with, my butt was in tatters, and the cane was broken.
Now it sits, handle all akinbo, atop our headboard, bearing mute testimony to our final struggle. It may well be days before I will walk, sit, or sleep comfortably -- but the cane will never recover.

swan