This is severe -- please remember that I have punished Trish many times -- if you are unsure if you want to read this, save it for another day!
Also -- a word on bamboo.
Canes are usually made of rattan, and there are many sources for rattan that you can use.
I use bamboo to cane Trish; but bamboo is NOT usually recommended for caning, because it has a tendency to split. This can result in sharp pointy parts that could cause deep cuts before you were aware that the bamboo has split. I use bamboo that's been fresh cut from my back yard . . . and even then, I keep a sharp eye on it, looking for problems.
--Doc
I have such a hard time putting these experiences into words. I have so many conflicting emotions about desiring, fearing, rejecting, relishing, savoring this much pain. The caning was excruciating and sublime. It was frightening and cathartic . I never want that much pain again, and I want it now, urgently. How do I begin to sort out such jumbled thoughts?
You have spanked me countless times. You and Sarah together have spanked me countless times. You have taken me from a beginner, through the gentle slopes of more tolerable pain, and have conditioned my body and soul to want more. You have sent me hurtling down the harried steep slopes of intense and longer-lasting suffering that I had only fantasized about but never expected to know.
We have long since traversed into "no safeword" territory; and lately I have taken to telling you and Sarah ahead of time that I don't want a choice in how you punish me. It feels more like punishment to me that way. It is the beginning of the surrender of self that I crave.
And so this time when I said that I wanted a "no choice" punishment, you and Sarah agreed. But you asked anyway if there were things I "particularly did not want to endure" or were "eager to experience. Understanding that this list does not bind us." I said that I wanted to try the new lexan cane that Sarah had bought. I said nothing about bamboo canes. Secretly, I was hoping you would know I wanted them, but I didn't want to specify. I wanted you to choose, for me and for you. I wanted my pain to be your pleasure. I wanted the unique, but undeniable intimacy that emerges in those special moments when you make me suffer and I do, completely.
I was swimming in the pool at the Palm House when I saw you come into the patio to cut the bamboo canes. You were whistling, chatting merrily and had a spring to your step. I instantly recognized the happy sadist in you, this time appearing as a gardener, but nevertheless equally dedicated to my suffering. I wasn't sure what to feel. I felt an instant onset of panic: I hadn't seen you quite so motivated to punish in a while. But I was excited to see you this way. Your sadism and dominance thrill me. When I see them emerge in tandem, I know that, whatever struggle I put up to maintain control, I will not succeed. I want to surrender -- to your control, to the pain -- but I will not do this on my own. I need to be forced into it.