Mark of the Cane
When I was caning Miss Kinky on Thursday night I was reminded of my love of receiving and giving the cane. May it is being British that makes me love the cane so much but there is something special about this instrument of doom that I just don't feel for any other spanking implement. It just has the ability to be erotic and painful in so many ways.
From the caner point of view there is something satisfying about the cane. There is the feel of it and the power of the cane in your hand, the marks it leaves and the reaction that you get when it is well applied.
You know when you pick up the cane you have one of the ultimate spanking instruments in your hand. You can use it to cause a lot of pain or as an instrument of erotic pleasure. It all depends on how you use it. Hard well spaced strokes can cause you intended target to dread every stock, but fast rapid light stroke can tip the same person into subspace, a place to enjoy the ultimate pleasure. Picking up the cane gives you the power to deliver pleasure and pain, or both.
The marks you leave are as a caner are part of the art of caning. None of them should be high and none of the should wrap around the legs. I get so frustrated seeing people think they can can on spanking tube only see them wrapping the cane. There is no need for it at all, it just requires a careful aim and practice and you can leave lovely marks on the bottom you are caning. One's they can get pleasure from later when they run there fingers of the marks you create.
Being caned is like nothing else, the anticipation followed by the burning pain feels like nothing else. A burning line of fire across your bottom, and if spaced right a pain that builds and builds with each stroke. Then there is the rubbing afterwards when you feel the marks left by the cane. You rub your fingers over them and you feel the ridges of each stroke. And finally you find a mirror and you put an image to the marks you have just felt.
The cane really is an instrument of choice for any spanker that really wants to feel or weld the ultimate weapon. I love using it and receiving it and it will never bore me. If you have never experienced it as spankee then seek it out just once and let me know how you feel. I love it bite of it on my bottom and the feel of it in my hand.
Story - Spanking My Naughty Boy
After yesterdays post I thought it would be nice to include a story about a more erotic sort of story so I have included this one from someone called KatieBadGrr. It comes from the days of the newsgroups, and in particular a group call alt.sex.spanking that is sadly full of spam these days.
Spanking My Naughty Boy
The last time I spanked my naughty boy I made him strip naked for me, while I leaned back against the headboard and watched. He blushed so charmingly as he slid his boxers to the ground, giving me just a peek at his long, lean back.
He was still blushing when he stood, his hands dropping to cover his erection, but only for a moment. He knows better than that. I crooked my finger just a bit, beckoning him closer, and he stepped to the side of the bed. He was nervous, I could see, very nervous. But he was excited too - that was impossible to miss.
I reached out my hand and stroked his cock lightly with my fingers, delicately, just along the under side. He shivered but didn't try to stop me. Ahh, such a good naughty boy.
His attention was fixed on my hand until I looked up into his eyes. He held my gaze a second or two, then looked down. The heat was coming off him in waves.
I drew my hand away, and slid my long silky slip up past my thighs. I patted my bare lap lightly, without saying a word.
I smiled as I felt the bedsprings compress, and he climbed awkwardly up to kneel at my side. Then my lap was warm and full, his weight pressing down on my thighs. His skin was almost hot to the touch, and I could feel his pulsing cock between us.
I ran my hands over his body, rubbing his cheeks, his thighs, and his bare back until he began to relax. I murmured soothingly to him, trailing my fingers up his spine, then letting my nails tickle down his back and over his bottom. He shivered uncontrollably and tensed, the muscles along his back and shoulders hardening before my eyes. I grinned. My naughty boy is helpless when I tease him.
I dug my fingers into the flesh of his ass, rubbing and massaging, until he unwillingly relaxed again. Resting my hand on his cheek, I asked if he was ready for his spanking. He nodded his head against the bed, but I wasn't satisfied. I asked again, scratching my nail lightly against his skin.
"Yes," he whispered in a strangled voice. I smiled.
I brought my hand down hard on the bottom of one of his cheeks, and then another right in the same spot. It stung, as I knew it would, and he jumped. Pushing him back down on my lap, I continued spanking - not too hard, but not softly either. His skin began glowing pink very quickly; my naughty boy has very delicate skin. I enjoyed watching the handprints form red, then fade into the background.
Once or twice I slapped his thighs, making him kick and gasp - he didn't like that at all, but I did. That's why I did it again.
Some men have buns of steel, so my hand gets tired very quickly trying to make an impression, but my naughty boy can't take all that much. He squirms and ouches over my lap, hating and loving it as my small hand crashes down over and over again on his tender behind. I can spank him for a very long time if I want to.
I could feel his hard cock pushing against my warm thigh with every blow now. "Don't come," I warned him softly. He whimpered but nodded, and I could feel him straining to keep himself from rubbing against me.
I fired off a few more smacks, but then took pity on him, and pushed him further over my lap so that his cock fell between my thighs instead of touching my skin. I let him rest for a few seconds, caressing his back and the back of his neck, running my fingers through his hair. I soothed his stinging bottom with my hands, hearing his whimpers turn into appreciative hums.
But I couldn't let him become too comfortable, now, could I?
I reached across the bed for the wooden hairbrush he had bought me but never felt. He stiffened as I rubbed the bristles over his sore, red skin.
"No," he whispered. I ignored him, trailing the bristles over his thighs, and back up to his ass. I tapped his cheeks lightly with the bristles.
"No," he said again. "I can't."
"Yes, you can," I told him, flipping the brush over so that the cool, smooth wood rested against him. He protested just a little bit, fidgeting over my lap until I tapped him softly with the brush. A few light spanks, then a few more, then a few just a little harder. Then a few very hard.
I let the brush rest again, and nudged his thighs apart with my hand. Slipping my fingers down beneath him, I let my nails play lightly over his balls. His entire body went rigid, and gasping moans escaped his mouth. Ahh, yes. I scratched at the insides of his thighs and rubbed between his legs, feeling his cock growing and straining between mine.
Then the hairbrush again, harder this time, and just a little faster. His bottom turned a glorious red, and I knew he couldn't take much more, my poor naughty boy. I tossed the hairbrush aside, spanking him with my hand again, much harder now, enjoying the sizzling heat coming off his inflamed skin. He bucked hard against my thighs, and I scraped my fingernails against his sensitive bottom.
Then I tangled my hand in his hair, and pulled. He came up easily off my lap, and I pushed him down onto his back on the bed. He was breathing hard as I kissed him, trailing my lips and tongue and teeth down his chest and belly. He groaned aloud as I reached his taut, aching cock.
I closed my lips around him, sliding his cock inside me, tasting him deep in my throat. Even a naughty boy deserves a reward sometimes.
The Birching Block Birchingâ€™s were administered is various ways and positions but surely the most famous is to kneel on the heavy wooden birching block! This creative accessory has a long history and a preserved real version of it can still be seen in the museum at Eton College.
Robinson, played by Oscar Hart just lately has been pushing his luck and breaking one rule after another. As a senior he is expected to set a good example to the juniors, this he seriously fails to do. The Headmaster has had enough and now an example really will be made but out of the boy himself.
Caught in the dormitory after lights out playing music far too loud his housemaster Mr Sharpe is told to give him a good hand spanking.
Being somewhat of an expert in this field he turns young Robinsonâ€™s bare backside a bright burning red.
This however is only the start. Robison failed to heed the many warnings he was given and will now face an official birching.
Face down, kneeling on the wooden step, his bare bottom splayed and raised high the boy can only wait in trepidation as the birch twigs are swished through the air in readiness.
And it isn't long before they leave their mark!!
Another pupil Edmonds, played by Ariel Varga has also been ordered to be birched.
He too has fallen foul of the rule book and must now take his place on the birching block. He watches as the formidable instrument is drawn from its container and placed in position on his defenceless bare bottom.
Edmonds can feel that the wooden block has positioned him so his buttocks are dangerously exposed.
The birch descends, its biting spray of well soaked twigs hits home covering a wide area. Edmonds undoubtedly feels the sting but this is just the first stroke! It will build and build now to a scorching conclusion.
Later for further punishment he too will go over the knee, his poor whipped bare bottom now to be soundly spanked!
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