Favorite Posts -- Caning Sue

Every enduring relationship has stories to tell -- those bits of shared history that form the context and syntax of day to day relatedness.  Like creation myths, the stories of "how we began" tell those of us who love and live as intimate partners where we come from and what our shared passage might mean.  For me, that notion that beginnings hold the kernel of the whole is part of the enchantment that I feel each time I am drawn back to the story of the very first time He and I played at any sort of "serious" sadomasochism.  The post that I wrote, some years after the fact (in June of 2005), about our very first caning, tells the story of a magical and prophetic sort of evening that He and I shared in the very early days before it had occured to either of us that there was a long term and deeply connected future that we were destined to share...

First times are important ... the time came for Thunder in the Mountains, a major BDSM event held annually in Denver, Colorado ... As the plans began to form, a conversation started, slowly at first, about including, as part of the festivities of the event, The Heretic caning me ... caning just scared the willies out of me, and He knew it. He loved knowing it, and played my fears to a fever pitch ... teased and tormented me and worried me like a cat plays a mouse ... I tried not to wheedle, whine, or beg, although at one point, He actually made it clear to me that He wished I would ... Eventually ... began the long awaited caning ... the sweetest, gentlest, softest, and most sensuous of sessions .... He took me as gently as a lover…the first time.

We've played together, since that time, perhaps thousands of times -- and canes have been included in many, many of those sessions.  We broke one very nice cane, in a session that was neither sweet or gentle.  I've been caned with rattan (which I generally appreciate) as well as a variety of synthetics including delrin.  He owns multiple variants of the basic school cane, and some I love while I hate others with a deep and abiding fury and animosity.  Still, no matter the intensity; no matter my personal sense of affinity with each particular long and whippy implement, each caning hearkens back to that first time, and so calls up a sweetness and a sense of falling in love which does not inure to any other implement in the arsenal.

swan