Tomorrow is Master's birthday. Yesterday, since we were home alone and the timing seemed right, I gave Him His birthday present. A lovely leather paddle, black, with an intricate design stitched into the topside. It's the first real paddle we have ever owned.
Naturally, He wanted to try it out right away.
If you will remember from my previous post, I stated there were several newly acquired toys still waiting to be used. I also wrote how He refrained from "opening a big ol' can of whoop-ass on my sorry behind" during my last beating, because He wasn't sure how much I could handle.
He rectified all of those things yesterday afternoon.
First He secured my hands behind my back using our new handcuffs. Then, He ensured Himself some peace and quiet by placing our new ball-gag in my mouth. He added a little sensory deprivation by placing the new silicone blindfold over my eyes. Now all that was left to do was bend me over the end of the bed and try out His birthday present.
There were a few warm-up type swats with the paddle. Like, maybe, three or four. After that, it was game-on; the big ol' can of whoop-ass had been opened. He alternated between the paddle and Mr. Cane (I don't remember inviting Mr. Cane to this birthday party...), and soon, very soon, my ass was on fire.
The new paddle hurts. Yes, I am sure you are as shocked as I am. (Hah!)
The nice thing about the ball gag is that He couldn't understand me when I called Him a motherfucker when He, yet again, wrapped the tip of the cane around my right hip. Man, does that hurt. When confronted about it afterwards, He claims His aim was on target, but that I moved.
Um, no. That does not match my recollection.
However, the good news is, I was able to take what He dished out. And we both like the new toys, and Master enjoyed His birthday present.
The only sad part, for me, was when I suggested that Mr. Cane ought to be retired, and He said "No."
Can't blame a slave-girl for trying.