Caning At The Uber Sydney Play Party

I’d played with Mistress Tara once before, but we’d not had opportunity for awhile, and this was a new space at Uber in Sydney. Her sadistic reputation had drawn in my masochist. Besides that she was a friendly, genuine, down to earth person who liked to have fun, who I’d seen run a great Sadistic Play workshop for Uber Services in Sydney, who came recommended, and well, she was a tall, hot, commanding Mistress. Who wouldn’t want to ask such a lovely creature to play? Permission had been granted by my Daddy who also wanted to watch her style.

Mistress Tara selected 4 canes. She’d been gracious, waiting for me to finish cleaning some floggers I’d used on someone else. I stripped and laid over the spanking bench she indicated. It’d been awhile since I’d been bent over for a caning and the nerves started. Could I take this with less of the fat protection I’d have when lying flat? She’d checked my limits already – no breaking of skin due to keloiding, my safewords, and I wasn’t restrained so if I really wanted to get away it wouldn’t be hard. Who would want to though?

She commenced. Warmup taps. Horizontal, building in intensity. Vertical, using the tips of the canes. On both arse cheeks and both thighs. A thin cane first, flexible and stingy. A full stroke, right across the sweet spot where the arse crease meets the legs. “Argh!” I breathe out. Another one, a few milimeters above. Then a few milimeters down. “She loves the crease too,” I think to myself. It’s my favourite area, but that doesn’t make it any easier to take. At least she’s not layering each stroke on the Same Damned Spot, the way Daddy likes to do…maybe…yet. Her accuracy is phenomenal and speaks of hours of practice and experience. Here’s someone who loves her canes and her skills show it. This lets me relax.

She comes to my head, crouches and checks how I’m doing. I smile and mumble, halfway to subspace, where I’m often non verbal and sometimes silent apart from breathing. “Good,” she says, a sparkle in her eye, and returns to caning me. A thicker cane comes out. This pain business is a dichotomy. I like the thick canes for the thud, but I know they can deliver more force and they transmit like a baton. I dislike thin canes usually, but sometimes after a long beating they create exquisite sharp lines, a contrast to the nerve endings screaming the whole area is sore and that is far better than feeling bashed by another thud. I like watching people play, I like watching my Domme as they beat me to see the fun they’re having, the concentration in their face and the technique they’re using, but I can’t decide if I want to know when the next stroke is landing or whether I just lie there, accepting it. The blows will come anyway.

Soon she has me warmed up and the intensity increases. “Did you say something other than ‘ahhh’?” I shake my head. “Good.” Another sadistic smile. I’m grabbing onto the padding, trying not to move, trying not to spoil her accuracy. It feels like she’s painting my arse and thighs with her canes and I like her vision. I try and follow – the direction gives me something to focus on. I think there’s a crowd but they’re a peripheral focus, my attention is on her, the cane, our connection. My eyes are closed. I’m breathing, wondering if I want to dive deep into space or if I want to stay completely aware and feel every stroke at its maximum. I feel her prowl, around, either side, behind me. Where does she want this scene to lead? My thighs hurt, my arse hurts, the crease is receiving plenty of attention, a slash, above, repeat, above, repeat, below, down, repeat. She’s layering strokes over areas that already hurt. Horizontal, vertical, across. Fuck. Even taps hurt now, enough to make me scream, to try and crawl up that padding bench. The timing is beautiful, enough pause to feel each full strokes across both cheeks and I want it, that initial pain, then the delayed searing, burning pain that continues, the joy that creates for us. I want to keep taking this, but on one of the strokes the cane tip catches a tender area and I think, that bit of skin might break if it’s hit again, and soon after I’m at an edge anyway, the pain is finally getting to me, I’m not sure I can take anymore. I tell her I think I’m done, I’m never sure, I’m always so greedy. I’m sure I’ve taken more before, but the feeling is different with each scene and the aim.

“I think your Daddy might want to play with you too so I shouldn’t push you to your limit,” she says, grinning. I groan, really, can my arse take any more punishemnt? She asks what I’d like to do. I’m not sure I can get up – I’ve usually shut off any part of brain not required to cope with the scene. She checks I’m ok, if I need water, hugs me, if I’d like Daddy to come cuddle me. Yes, please. She tells my Daddy I’ve said I’d like to lie there for a bit. Daddy laughs, says OK, comes down low and whispers in my ear, “You’d like to lie there, would you? With your arse displayed out for the world to see? Piggy boy.” Uhhh, yes, evil wicked dirty thoughts. Just the perfect start to a decadent night.

It turns out I’m left with bruises and welts for a week, and I don’t bruise easily. They hurt when I sit, they hurt when I stand and the blood rushes back in. They’re just in perfect locations to maximise hurting on doing anything! Daddy is highly amused as she prods, whacks and fires them. Lucky, lucky me.

Written by wolve
Uber Play Party Sydney
March 2011

Leave a Reply

Mistress Tara Sydney

Contact & Availability

Phone: +61 (403) 370 446

I can be reached daily by phone 9 am - 9 pm (AEST)

Follow Me on Twitter