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Teasing turns into more.

I try to anticipate what sorts of things you will want available depending on the location. I leave small items like clamps, needles, and gags in the bag since I this is not the location for such intimate play. I lay out all the toys in a way that seems logical to me, handles facing you, neatly arranged. I have no idea what, if any, of these items you will use on me, but touching them all and anticipating their use creates butterflies in my stomach.

You watch this whole routine, laughing at my dedication to a task you actually don't give a shit about and in fact find quite pointless. But you let me finish and then approach. As you approach, you find me shaking slightly, especially my hands. You laugh at my nerves and beckon me toward the leaning wooden post structure in the middle of the room. It has wooden crossties studded with rings to which you can attach clips or slip rope. I stand in front of you, bowing my head. To my embarrassment, I can see people gathering around the play area and try desperately to pretend they aren't there. You gesture toward the pillar and I position myself facing it. Then, mercifully, you blindfold me. I sink into blackness and immediately all my other senses are heightened. I feel the chill of being in the open space and the feeling of the wood against my breasts. You do not bind me to the structure. You want me to stay there under by own will, holding on instead of being bound, letting you beat me without anything stopping me from walking away, except my desire to please you. Without being so bold as to turn my head, I tilt it slightly in different directions, like a dog, to try to hear where you are and what you are doing. I try to figure out what toy you are choosing so I can brace myself but I can't figure it out.

There is a moment of silence. Suddenly, I have no idea where you are, and I get a a little scared. What if you left? What if you traded places with someone else? What if I've completely misjudged the situation and something completely different is in store for me?

These thoughts are interrupted by a zinging sound. It lasts less than a second but long enough for me to realize before the strike that it is one of the toys that is most difficult for me. The cane strikes my ass and I feel a sharp, searing pain that momentarily brings tears to my eyes. There is no way for my body to swallow this pain -- it is too sharp and too focused. I don't have any more time to think about it before hearing it again as you lay another strip along side the first. There is no counting, no ritual. You just lay into my ass with the cane over and over again. I grip the wood tightly with my hands. You concentrate on the curve of my ass where is meets my thigh -- this area is particularly sensitive and I clench my teeth. You strike harder and harder. The stripes now overlay each other, crisscrossing all over my ass. My ass is on fire. At one point, you approach me and run a finger along a particularly vicious stripe. I am not sure, but I think you are wiping away a stripe of blood. Small amounts of blood are not forbidden at this club, but significant bleeding will cause someone to stop the scene so I think you are assessing the situation. Satisfied that I am not bleeding enough to cause any consternation among the dungeon monitors, you continue with several more vicious stripes and then it stops. My head is bowed, my breathing is hard and fast. My hands relax their grip. The cane touches my lips for me to kiss. It is the only toy you make me kiss, and only because I hate the damn thing so much.

You go on beating me for a long time.

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