I'm just going to say it.
I love caning.
There isn't anything about it that I don't love.
The anticipation beforehand of how much it's going to hurt.
The warm up (if any).
The pain. Most of all the pain that is so hard to take that I squiggle and try to get away.
The arousal that comes next. I would hump anything. Even the air. To get off.
Even more pain. Strokes on top of fresh welts.
Some teasing, stroking, rubbing. And more pain.
The after glow.
The pain of marks that remind me of their presence later when I try to sit.
But today I had an entirely unique and new pleasure.
Hooded, I lay back naked on a bed that wasn't ours. I was in the subspace and after glow state after a hard caning. Two men, one of them my Master, discussing all sorts of topics, personal and historical and literary, from gossip to Kipling to imperialism, as they lay on either side casually fondling me all over. At first Master had my arms pinned above my head, but my hands began to fall asleep and I wiggled them down to my sides.
Hands touching me everywhere. With the hood I couldn't tell who or where the hands might go next. I was ready for anything and yet utterly relaxed. My breasts, my sides, my thighs, the top of my pussy, my stomach, my hands, my arms. Light stroking and gentle massaging, moving from one area to another. It was just so entrancingly and casually erotic I could have lain like that forever, the conversation of two deeply interesting men shifting from one topic to another, sometimes emphasizing points of conversation on my body, talking with their hands. I lay quietly for the most part, content to be a play object.
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