Ye gods, it’s been a whole MONTH since I last posted! It really didn’t seem that long, I swear.

Of course, you’re thinking that a month’s hiatus must mean that I have bushels full of salacious stories and torrid tales about all of my kinky exploits. But….not so much. Sure, there are some, one of which I’m about to share, but I really am a boring Teppycat when it comes right down to it.

Seriously. Last night, I cut out coupons. Hand to god. How’s THAT for edgeplay?

Recently, however, I did manage to get fierce on T.’s ass for a while. And — this is truly shocking — I managed to leave marks on him that were still visible the next day. You have to understand, he NEVER marks. Ever.

What we did was basically a reprise of the night that I made him ASK for each stroke with the cane/crop/whatever. (I originally got my inspiration for that from Dev and her own wicked ways.)

Because T. enjoys self-bondage — and because both I’m a lazy top and a voyeur — I told him to tie himself so that he could lie on his back and yet his ass would be, for the most part, accessible for beating. I wanted him to lie on his back because I wanted to be able to maintain eye contact with him. I love that connection when he’s asking me to cane him again and I can see the arousal and pain and enjoyment and submission in his eyes. Yum.

He tied his wrists to his ankles, same side to same side, and then I tied the ends off to the headboard, which allowed him to keep his legs up over his head, more or less. (He’s VERY flexible. I like that in a guy.) Then I reminded him of the rules — I wouldn’t give him the next stroke unless he asked for it by saying, “More, please, ma’am.” He could also ask me to switch implements of ass destruction in a similar way, as well as ask me to slow down, reduce the intensity, or stop altogether.

I used a cane on his ass for a long time; in fact, when I moved to switch to something different, he asked if I would continue using the cane. I ask you, HOW could I ever say no to such a delightful request? I actually caned him for so long that the cane broke. (Okay, it wasn’t a rattan/bamboo/wood cane; it was an acrylic cane, but I’d had it — and used it — for a few years. It was pretty sturdy. Operative word being “was.”)

While I was using the cane on his ass, he kept asking for the next stroke immediately, even though I could tell it was really hurting him. And I complied, but I admit that there was a point where I almost called yellow to stop for a minute and make sure he was okay, because even though he was readily and quickly asking for the next stroke, he was also yelping and practically hyperventilating. I didn’t, in the end, call yellow, but I did pause and tell him that I was switching to the riding crop, and I stroked his hair for a minute and waited until his breath was under control again.

(He was, he informed me later, in a lot of pain BUT ALSO incredibly turned on and rock-hard. The combination was exquisite torment and was kind of blowing his mind. But hyperventilation makes me uneasy, so I’m not sorry that I switched to a different toy.)

Throughout the scene, I alternated between the cane, the riding crop, a long skinny flat wooden paddle that really resembles a paint stirrer on steroids (i.e., longer and thicker than a paint stirrer, but the same general shape), and a bamboo back-scratcher. I tried to flog his ass with my bullhide flogger, but the angle was all wrong and just frustrated me.

It was a really good scene for both of us; for T., because he likes HARD impact play, and for me, because I really enjoy being able to evoke such a complex, multi-layered response from him. Pain, pleasure, begging for more, wanting it to stop, powerful arousal — *I* did all that. That’s what I love about being a top. (Well, that, and how utterly fucking gorgeous T. is when he’s restrained and/or in pain. Yum.)