My Lady Friend Caned Me And AFter Tanning My Hide Forgave Me For Being Critical Of Women Going Topless In Public, And I Hope You, Dear Reader, Do TOO!

What I so much love about the cane is how so totally and absolutely convincing it is!”


"Loving someone gives you courage.  With Leah it gave me the courage to go through with this."


The problem is that no one can explain an experience so perfectly that everyone can feel it exactly as it happened.
I can only try.
You can't expect life to fulfill you, but you can do things to fulfill your life.

When I was in the fourth grade in 1959, forty years before the incident I am reconstructing,  when Mrs. Crick said, "one learns best through the hands," she was not referencing some educational theory, but the fact that she was prepared to give ten strokes of her standard school strap on each bare palm of the hand of any offender in her class.
Such did indeed happen on this occasion below, but more followed:

Do not try to hide the sparkle in your eyes

Every time you run

Your fingers over the rattan

It is a touch you will make a part of  me!

PLEASE give me my grade on this poem and following essay as soon as you have read it!
Thank you:

I handed her the rattan.
"You want me to cane you?"
"Yes.  You need a reason."
She hesitated a few moments thinking it over.
"Complaining about women going topless in public!"

Now that I have been punished for it, I hope you, dear reader, will forgive me for it!

Caning was still legal throughout my childhood, and I was horrified of it to the point where I wouldn't even consider going to a school that featured it.
As an adult, one Saturday afternoon in August 1999, naked,  I bent over a bar stool and touched the floor in front of me with the tips of  my fingers.
That "hairpin," or "paperclip" position stretched and spread my bare buttocks wide open for total exposure.
Incredibly radiant smile, Dutch pretty, bedroom eyes, the right size to sit on my lap if she had wanted to, sincerely polite, considerate, utterly charming, ever so girlie girl, also naked  Leah gave me "six-of-the best."
With black electrical tape I had wound around the stem just before the crook handle so as to give her a good grip on it, and to make it a true English school "Bognor," she used the 5/16" rattan.
This was the first time she had ever even held a cane in her hands, but she knew what she was doing because she had listened to the instructional audio, Miss Marianne Martindale's "The Art Of Caning."
There were six loud cracks. And, six tramlines on my bottom afterwards. 
With each stroke, there was a caress across my bare bottom, followed a few seconds later by the pain which went no further than the area struck.
"I am surprised you can sit down," she said.
The thin red lines with ridges stood out for a few days. 
By the next Saturday they were absolutely gone.

I am not one of those super-sensitive people who when a tongue goes in my mouth it sends a shock from the very top of my head to the tips of my toes.
What happened to my *** stayed there.

Whenever I sat down, for a couple of days immediately after the incident, I had a mild  raw feeling, like something was missing .
I put an extra cushion on my chair.
That solved the problem.
Not a big deal.
There was no other subsequent discomfort than this tenderness.
By getting it as an act of friendship, I conquered that one terror in my life, much like turning snake poison into an antidote.
The experience gave me power and took none away.

It was a totally satisfying experience for Leah, and that makes it totally satisfying for me.
"I liked everything about it," said she.  "I stopped only because I felt sorry for you. I didn't use follow through because I didn't want to cut you in two."
Pain, and the possibility of transcendence, there is something empowering about having "survived" a good thrashing!
I feel love for Leah, but it isn't.

It is a unique kind of bonding.

It's like she got a piece of me and made it a part of her, but the piece also grew back quickly and without a trace, and I have a piece of her which I treasure as a part of me now.

A girl is supposed to be non-threatening, she's someone you can hang out with, that's Leah, through and through.
Thirteen years later, sex addict, size queen, grade ten dropout, two kids by two different men, a  never wore her seat belt car accident, god knows how many cigarettes, experimenting with drugs to "keep from getting fat," arrested for stealing form her employer, I wonder if she still giggles, and just how aware she is that, as I understand it, no man since has ever been willing to let her do to him anything at all like what she did with me.

Am I a good essayist? 
A person who has been caned should have to write an essay about it afterwards. 
I haven't been caned again since then, but when it does happen, I am sure I shall have to read this essay out loud, paragraph by paragraph, between strokes.

I do not think of this experience as being either "male" or "female," but rather a playing out of "desire," the only real universal natural category.

Resignation is giving away your power.
Surrender is getting your power back.  In no way did I resign myself to the cane, but rather I  surrendered myself to it, and just thinking about it right now electrifies me.

She got the right end of the stick for her.
I got the right end of the stick for me.
That cane was just the key to unlock good things for both of us.
I feel closer to women for it.
Three cheers!

This was a carefully controlled experiment in energy transfer which I do not regret, and like many other recipients, in time  I grow fonder and fonder of the memory.

A satisfied woman is always an accomplishment to a man who loves them, no matter how long ago it was!

Censured By Her Cane
































by my























harvard2 harvard2
61-65, M
1 Response Sep 11, 2012

She did indeed "sentence" me to another caning in an endearing, giggly way, but it never happened. As I understand it, she hasn't been able to convince anyone else, as she prefers the company of super macho men who won't allow anything to even touch back there. She would be the best dominatrix in the world if she were to organize herself.