My first birching (plus caning and anal sex!)

(Noto bene: This post was written last night, while my Master was out doing some errands. Pictures from the birching are here.)

The birches mumbojumble gave us have been sitting in a vase for a couple weeks, now. Giving me a frisson of anticipation every time I walked past them. Today was the day they finally got used on my naked bottom.

Sometimes, you plan scenes – detailed, intricate role-play. Sometimes, scenes just happen.

My Master and I were putting some shelves in our lovely new wardrobe (and thanks to our dear friend, whom I think I shall give the name “Mr. Stag,” for wasting his weekend helping us get and assemble our wardrobe!) We finished all the work we could do, and my Master lay down on the bed. Something in the way he did so gave me the hint that kinky stuff would shortly follow. So I climbed on the bed and started running my hands up and down his legs … trying to indicate my receptivity. I hadn’t really been in a place where I was actively thinking about sex … but knowing he was took me from naught to sixty in no time flat!

After a period of meaningful eye-contact and rising horniness, I finally stopped fondling his thighs, and lay down beside him. In doing so, I brushed against him, and suddenly realized he was as throbbing erect as possible! He told me it was time to finally get my birching, and fear shot through me – but I couldn’t help grinning like an idiot!

He pointed out that only bad girls got birched. I responded that perhaps it was time for my bad girl persona to come out and play … maybe she had stayed out all night, doing things she wasn’t supposed to with boys. He was right there with me, and brought in the running role-play fantasy we have of the bad girl and her ever-so-patient housemaster, who has taken her under his wing (a cane-wielding wing!) and who is trying to prepare her (by way of tenderizing her bottom at regular intervals!) to send her off to a training institution (we’ve already given it a name: “The Lausanne Institute”) so that she can be his perfect girl.

Well, my Master likes a challenge, because my bad-girl persona doesn’t give in gracefully! No, she fights and whinges and generally makes as much as possible that much harder for herself! Yes, he likes the challenge! When I deliberately do or say something that gets me in more trouble, he gets such a glint in his eye! And then he hands out a serious thrashing!

Well, after we’d set up our story-line, he told me what to wear, and to make a birch rod and bring it to him. On went the navy gym shorts and gym skirt, a white shirt with blue tie, and grey sweater and white knee socks. (Because I was a bad girl, I pushed the socks unevenly around my ankles, and didn’t tuck my shirt in. I also left one button undone, as I was sneaking back in after a night of debauchery, and thus should be a bit mussed!)

Then, I had to make the birch rods! Very kindly, mumbojumble had provided some sample rods, so I had immediate examples to hand. The birch twigs she gave us were quite long, so I made two shorter length rods, one with the thinnest ends, and one of the thickest ends. (When it comes to pain, my Master can always count on me to be thorough!)

Then I went and knocked on the bedroom door, heart thumping my my chest, trying to bring up all my bravado and attitude, so I could get into some serious hot water….

And so I did. When he said, “Come in,” I swaggered over with the rods, and said, “You wanted some twigs?” in a offhand, very un-respectful manner. He grinned. It had started.

I won’t bore you with the dialogue that followed, as it was just amusing foreplay for us as I tried to “get out of my punishment,” got myself in deeper trouble, and protested my fate vehemently. He had me bend over for some smacks of the slipper, but my bad-girl-self really can’t be seen to be cowed by anything so mild as a slippering, so my mouth earned me a caning in short order.

He had me bend over and touch my toes again. I don’t know which cane he took to my bottom, but it had me gasping in no time. I was fully in head-space by this point in time, and my main reaction was to get sullen. It was so unfair!

He had me go wait in the corner (our new wardrobe has created the perfect space for me to have a constricted little corner. I can see me having a good deal of corner-time in my future!) As I stood there, I sulked and tried not to sniffle from the caning. A girl’s allowed to have a night out – and it was even Saturday night! It was so unfair of him to demand that he be the only one to have sexual access to me – I was young, damnit, and I deserved a little fun and experimentation!

When he got tired of me being in the corner, he pulled me over to him. “The cane teaches you your place, doesn’t it, girl?” he said. Well, bad-girl me wasn’t about to admit she’d been taught anything, least of all her place, so I said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “Oh, yes, Sir!”

Well, that guaranteed my doom. We had talked before about how I might make a lot of noise from the birch, so he put on a penis gag and then the mask. The penis gag was a good thing, because now I could only think my bad attitude, not actually say it out-loud!

Over the side of the bed I went, and the first birch rod was taken to my backside. He pulled down my gym shorts, first, and I though, “Oh fuck, am I in trouble!” And I waited for the first blow, not having the slightest notion what kind of pain I was in for.

Well, the first blow hit, and you know what – I love birching! That’s not to say it didn’t hurt, obviously, but it was a totally bearable, really exciting pain! If my mouth had not been gagged I might have accidentally burbled, “Ooooh! Hit me again!” Of course he did, anyway. Thirty strokes later, he let me have a breather.

I didn’t want no breather! More, more, more! He said, “I think five more will do …” because he couldn’t tell where I was at, due to being gagged and masked. I shook my head and held out my hand, and then opened and closed it six times. He got the message of “Thirty more, please!” and he went for the other birch rod!

As mumbojumble had said, the thicker rods were quite different from the thinnest ones. Not harder to take, the thin ones were certain the worst, but an excellent mix of stingy-thuddy. I loved every second of the next thirty, even when I started moaning in pain.

He sat down beside me, letting me have another breather. I don’t remember what he said that would have let me have an “out” if it was all too much, but I reached back with my hand, and with my finger drew “90” on his leg.

Of course, my Master is a man who believes in rounded numbers, so I got 100 total!

For the last twenty, he had me kneel between his legs, head pressed against his rock-hard cock, and he reached down and hit me with vertical strokes. Oh! Those stung! And got me to this crest of the wave of pain – where the pain was this thing of beauty, and I could barely breath for the perfection of it. (Yes, I was quite high on endorphins. But that’s how it felt!!!)

I was gasping when he pulled me up on the bed, and then I heard the camera come out! So you should all thank my Master for delaying his gratification so that you lot could see my birched bottom! I don’t know why, but after a beating I feel so sexy – like I’m just pure sex.

Then, camera aside, he lubed up his cock and started fucking me. My pussy was exceptionally tight, and he felt so good … it was like eating your favorite flavour of ice cream on a hot day! I couldn’t ask to come, so I didn’t, just rode the wave of pleasure.

But then, then, he growled at me, “Your punishment isn’t over, girl!” and pushed his cock roughly into my ass. Really, it was one of the greatest moments of my life: getting to live in my fantasies! To be helpless, gagged and masked, beaten bloody, and then roughly used not just for his pleasure, but as a punishment … oh, god, was it good!

I happily moaned in pain as he took me, and as he started thrusting faster I made muffled noises of combined pleasure/pain. I still couldn’t come, not being able to ask for permission, but mentally I was just living in the land of utter sexual satisfaction, and orgasms were so beside the point.

(I didn’t know this at the time, but he shot a movie clip! I will be using this for masturbatory material when he is away … and I’m sure I’ll get around to posting it online at some point! Maybe if you all beg and plead…?)

After a lovely timeless period, he pulled off my mask and gag, and sent me for a washcloth. I gently washed his cock off, and then gave him the most grateful, enthusiastic blowjob possible. At some point, he said, “Get on top, girl,” and I leapt on with alacrity – and found out that possibly orgasms were not entirely beside the point, after all! But he wanted to finish in my mouth, and so back to delighted cock-sucking I went. And the noises he made when he came … well, it was actually the best part of the whole time, and considering the good times that I’d had, that’s saying a lot!

We collapsed in a happy snuggle. I felt so loved, so in love, and so happy and sated. We didn’t talk for a while – all I wanted to do was lie there with my head on his chest and his arm around me forever and ever. When we did start talking, I found out that he had beaten me until blood flowed – I’d had no idea! – and so he showed me some of the pictures, and then he took a few more for good measure.

I had a little sub-drop (not sadness, just exhaustion) and so we had a shower together and now I’m resting while he runs some errands. Tonight is Chinese take-away from our favorite place while we watch a silly movie.

I’m still pretty high from the scene. I just feel so happy and good and replete and perfect.

If anyone ever wants to know why I am kinky, why I am “into” all this stuff … well, how I feel right now is all the answer they need!

And, finally — thank you so much, mumbojumble, for making my birching dream a reality!!!