A caned butt is a happy butt

I left W’s this morning after about five hours sleep last night. We can’t seem to go to bed early to save our lives, even when I have to work in the morning. Or even if we do, we end up fooling around in that special way W has of mauling, fucking, and crushing my girlparts, making me come until I think I can’t come anymore, until all hours of the night. Last night, though, we did two rather interesting suspensions. “W-style” I call them, because they aren’t anything like what I usually see when I see suspension pics or suspensions in real life. Those are nice, I guess, and I can especially appreciate the aesthetics and athleticism of the bottom. But W always adds a little…twist…all his own. Take the last one he did, where he hung me up like a piece of bizarre art on his as-yet-unfinished wall:

And then, of course, being W, he didn’t just let me hang there.  He caned and cropped my thighs.
Last night we did two “experimental” suspensions, both of which turned out very cool, for very different reasons. I’ll have some pics to post on them later in the week maybe. Neither had a “corporal” element to it, though. I was fine with that, each scene has its own style, its own flavor and I get to my happy place in many ways, not just through getting whupped. And, I felt certain, I’d get my “whupping” soon enough.
I was right, of course, though he surprised me when it happened. I had come back to his house to work from home for awhile since our internet was down at work, but finally, I had to go back into the office.  I’d been talking around a beating scene, but had stopped just short of asking outright for it.   I don’t like to ask for it, although, with Ad, I am learning to.  I have learned that, once playing, he enjoys it, but he will seldom initiate it. So anyway, the night before W had asked me if I wanted to get a caning after our two scenes.  Honestly, I totally would have been up for it. Not because I wasn’t satisfied and happy with what we’d already done that night, but because I was charged up already, and hey, far be it for me to turn down play (well, it has happened a time or two, but not very often.) So yeah, I would have been up for it, if he’d grabbed me and hauled me over somewhere and started beating on me. The fact that he asked me if I wanted it…it just didn’t work in my head. With him, it’s all about headspace.
It’s like this. Saturday night he and I and W were out a local kinky event. Ad got ready to go, leaving me there with W. I realized I was going to lose my chance at a public spanking (attention-whore that I am) so I finally gave in.
“Please, before you go, would you spank me?” I asked Ad. And he did. And it was nice. Yummy even. But (and here’s the rub) it’s just not quite the same when I have to ask for it. It just doesn’t trip the head trigger. It trips physical ones just fine (yumm.) But, I want that headspace too. Yeah okay, I am a greedy girl. I should take what I can get and shut up, right? And I do, I do! But, there’s part of me that needs/craves domination, not just a service Topping. But I guess that’s why I have multiple relationships…each gives me different things.
But then W asked if I wanted a caning.  And…(stupid girl that I am) I couldn’t just say yes.  “No no, make me!” (rolling eyes) So I declined, and we went to bed, and I really was just as happy as if he whaled on me. But maybe I do need to just say, “yes, please hurt me,” occasionally.  It is okay to want it. Even (gasp) to ask for it.
In any case, want it or not (yeah yeah, shut up, I know you know I want it), I got it just before I left to go back to work this morning. Funny thing is, the night before I’d had the urge to tell W I had been fantasizing about the one morning he’d hauled me out of bed, chained me down and whipped me while I was still half-asleep, and wanted him to give me a whipping some morning before work. I like the idea of dragging my fuzzy, endorphin-shot brain into work, of sitting there pretending to be normal, while in reality I’d just gotten the hell beat out of me. (See, there I go again with the “oh I can’t ask for it” crap. Obviously I just need to get over it, right?)  But I did get a taste of it.
I turned around while I was packing up my computer and there was W, standing there with a cane in his hand. I felt that shiver of, “oh shit, wait a sec, maybe I really don’t want this…” and then he’s telling me to pull down my pants. (Okay, goony side note. I do not know why that phrase trips my trigger, but it does. Something about the old-school-style “disciplining” feel to it.) Then he tells me to bend over and put my hands on his desk. (Okay, seriously swooning now.) And then he canes me. Hard, fast, barely any let-up between strokes. And if I straighten up, he orders me to bend over again in this voice that brooks no argument. And oh yeah, I am in heaven.  Just when I think I can’t stand another stroke, he pulls me around, pushes me to my knees, and shoves his lovely, hard cock in my mouth.  Then he stands me up: “Ten more.” And this is when the hurtiness goes to goodness.  When he pushes me down on my knees again, I am wet through and through.
The man really does trip my trigger.
I go back to work on an endorphin buzz, and all is right with my world.