There ain’t no halvsies in caning.

This was my sign-off on FB & FL last night:
“It’s official. I’m happy. Going to bed now. Maybe Guy #1 will manhandle the cane bruises left by Guy #2 this afternoon.”
Mmmm. Yes.  He did, and I am (happy.) Caned then fucked by one guy then mauled and fucked some more by the other. Jade is deliriously happy at this moment.
I didn’t start out that way today. Lots of work-stress and some personal home-life stress too (seriously? The Superbowl trumps seeing the newest member of our family? Really??) and W wasn’t feeling 100% and…well, it was a low day.  Then W got it in his head that hey, caning doesn’t require too much effort on his part, he probably wouldn’t aggravate his health situation…so I ended up on the floor pillow, ass in the air, receiving (and counting) 50 cane strikes.
With no sexy clothes.
And no rope.
He rectified the rope situation because (apparently!) I was squirming too much. And then he threatened to gag me because I was – maybe! – mouthing off a bit. Yeah, smooth move, right, to be taunting the guy with the cane. But I figured, hell, I could always run away, and with his injury, he couldn’t very well catch me, right?
Huh. Maybe he was smart to get that rope out.
Caning is almost as good a cure for hamster-head as is yoga, which was good, because a) I am piss poor at that whole “meditation, have a quiet head” thing my instructor wants us to do in yoga, and b) my yoga class got cancelled. Thank GOD for W and his cane! Am I right??
Then, just before I got ready to leave, he says, “So, you want another fifty?” Ok, it’s taken me a long time to get there, but I have finally accepted that sometimes, he’s gonna ask. And no matter how it goes against the grain to be asked, and for me to say yes, I’m gonna have to say “yes.”  Because yes, I always want more.  Always!
Even when I say no.
“Yes,” I said.
This time, he tied me right from the beginning. And…I wasn’t quite as mouthy. Apparently that caning-as-meditation thing works, and I was a quiet, acquiescent girl. Well, as acquiescent as I can be when I’m taking 50 whacks with his thick-ass cane. And he doesn’t hit like no girl. For real. So yeah, I might have jumped around, at least as much as the rope would allow.
And then…he fucked me. Tied to the chair, standing up, pinching and squeezing my clit between his thick, hard fingers, making me squeal and squirm for reasons other than pain.  And then…I fucked him, on the floor, until he came, pumping up into me while I writhed on top of him, grinding my freshly-caned ass down on him.
I didn’t really expect more when I got home.
Boy was I wrong.
It started out with me showing off my cane stripes in the mirror.  And then, just to be a teasing little slut, I climbed up in bed, turned my ass toward Ad, and waggled it at him.
And yelped when he grabbed first one tender, still-red cheek and then the other, and groped and mauled them.
“Look at this,” he said, as I moaned under his less-than-tender ministrations. “You’ve got a wet pussy.” And proceeded to push one of his fingers into me. He finger fucked me from behind, there on the bed with me on my knees, for awhile, until I was panting.  Then he pulled off his pajama bottoms.
“Spread yourself for me,” he said. Fuck yes…I have no idea if he knows how that turns me on, those words, that order.  I reached behind and pulled my rings apart, gripping and kneading the cane marks painfully as I did.  Enjoying the pain, enjoying the embarrassment of having to spread myself for him. He pushed into me easily; I was crazy-excited, and dripping wet. Then I felt him reach over and a moment later he pushed Baldy between my legs. “Ride it,” he said. “Fuck yourself.”
I did, fucking myself back against him as I had earlier with W, feeling him fill me and then leave me empty only to fill me again.  He pushed a finger into my ass and worked it in deep, and I thought about W and I talking about anal fisting earlier.
It was so hot I forget to turn Baldy on.
“Turn it on,” he said, laughing.  I did, a little embarrassed, but then I forgot about that and I came, hard, rocking back and forth on Baldy’s big, round (bald) head, feeling Ad’s cock pushing in and out of me, muffling my shouts in the comforter, and imagining that cane, coming down across my ass, over and over.

4 thoughts on “There ain’t no halvsies in caning.

  1. Seems like yoga tries to make the screaming kids in our heads be quiet by telling them to hush. Violent sex with your two hot men would make them be quiet by wearing them out. And any mom knows that the best way to make the kids take a nap is to exhaust them first.
    You ability to go openly and comfortably from one man to the other, and their (Ad’s, in particular) willingness to enjoy the product of the other’s work, is an amazing treasure. I know you appreciate it, so that makes it the finest kind of life bonus – one you recognize while you have it.

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