Under His Hand

The journal of a slave

Canes hurt.

Master and I went to bed last night per the usual routine. I was lying in the dark, my head snuggled to his chest, when He just jumped up, throwing the blankets off and ordered me to “turn over”. Thinking I was gonna get something nice, I flipped. What followed was a terribly yummy painful hot hard caning from my feet, up the backs of my thighs, across my ass. God damn.

Canes hurt. Thats about all I got to say. It was definitely one of those ‘I wish I had a safeword so I could SCREAM it right now!’ moments (though the bruises across the back of my legs are oh-so-pretty today).
When something hurts that bad, I think it’s impossible to *not* be a little angry, even within the confines of consensual bdsm and slavery and etc etc. I was a little angry, and a lot turned on, and so the battle waged inside of me. Do I pout and bitch or beg to cum. Decisions decisions.

Well, Master was turned on too so that pretty well took the decision out of my hands. Hard to bitch, pout, OR beg with a cock down your throat…:) Still, I wasn’t all that receptive at first to giving the blow job. My legs were on fire, along with my ass, and I had twisted myself into some uncomfortable position in the chains and He was sitting on the chain attached to my collar so I couldn’t hardly move my head. But the magic of being a masochist kicked in and the whole situation, from burning thighs to wrapped chains to a mouthful of cock, to a Master who isn’t afraid to be a Sadist even when it pisses me off; I was horny, pure and simple.

But appealing to a Sadist’s sympathetic side never really does get you very far does it? Now there’s a lesson to be learned…lol. What He wanted was for me to ask for 5 more strokes and then I could cum. Kept me sucking, knowing how much giving head turns me on, touching me, talking in that soft, cajoling voice. Calling me “baby”. Damn Him. When did he learn all the buttons to push and where was I when that happened?
And then, worried that he would give me the 5 strokes anyway and deny me an orgasm because I didn’t ask! Somewhere along the way… the idea of taking 5 more strokes on my welted and stinging legs made me fucking hot…lol. So, I asked and I was scared when I did. And more scared when he jumped up and grabbed the cane and I held the headboard and buried my face in the pillow and heard the command to count. And the strokes came… soft.. and gentle, barely a sting. I counted with trepidation thinking the next stroke would be the hard one. But it was over and we had sex and lots of juicy orgasms.

What a wonderful end to an otherwise blah Tuesday.