It has officially been five months and four days since my last realtime BDSM session. 156 days outside of the dungeon. 3,746 hours (at the time of this writing) since my hand has been invading holes where it shouldn’t be. 224,762 minutes since I’ve made strange people from the internet regret their life choices. And so it goes.
Meanwhile, I’ve been having a great time dominating people from afar. Cyber domination is best suited for humiliation and worship-style activities, in my opinion, so I’ve rearranged my sadistic appetites to whet a more mental sort of domination. I’ve been exploring aspects of my personal style in Femdom that I hadn’t had as much time to focus on when I was previously kept so busy with realtime work.
Online work just hits differently, though (both metaphorically and physically). While I love the capabilities of controlling someone from afar, nothing is quite like walking up to a bitch, grabbing them unawares by the nads, pulling them down to your level, smothering your hands on their little bitch face while they moan and their pupils dilate in intimidation, smelling the scent of fear on their body…
All this time spent by myself has made me, a severe introvert, realize that I do indeed have some near-extroverted qualities that behoove me being around others (does making others cry count as an extroverted quality???). I keep on imagining how consensually PTSD-inducing that very first session will be on the eve of my return. Floodgates devastating the pastoral small town that lays before it, so to speak. Kid in a candy shop, except the kid has already been high on sugar for a full two hours already with some serious immature-prefrontal-cortex sensibilities about self-moderation and all the candy is at reachable child-height and there is no end in sight, so to speak. Pandemic spreading like wildfire amidst a negligent country/society and before you know it, you’ve been in a state of emergency for nearly half a year, so to speak. Sheer and utter chaos. You get the idea.
How I yearn for it. Sigh.
So in full attempts to make me yearn even more for that which I can’t have, I’ve decided to tease and deny myself by ranking one of my first true BDSM loves, corporal punishment. Because why not, right? If I don’t have access to it, why not wax poetic and torture myself some more?????
I typically have a very generous dose of corporal punishment in both my personal and professional life, so this moment of not beating anybody up for nearly half a year has been hard for me. In my non-sessioning hours, I have a whipping boy I’ve been destroying for years for both fun/practice/videos and a cleaning slave that I always discipline with judicial caning. During sessions, I’ve been blessed with a coterie of devoted slaves, subbies, and fetishists who happily indulge in practically all of my sadistic delights. I’m quite lucky, really. What more could a Daddy want?
Of course, everything has changed with coronavirus. So enough talking about what once was – let’s avoid the present and talk about all the ways I can act out my Napoleon complex instead!!!!! (I’m just kidding, of course, the present is great and awesome and meditation is super cool and important.)
Daddy An Li’s Favorite Ways of Walloping Bitches Under the Guise of Consensual “Discipline”
1. Judicial caning.
I never expected this one to rank the highest for me! I came into Femdom thinking that I would be a severe Whipstress, using my singletail in nearly every session – in part because that was one of my first impressions of Female Domination. And then, along came The Stick.
Caning took a while to grow on me. In my more novice years, I admittedly flailed and failed when it came to such – imprecise aim, off-kilter strokes that landed like a toddler’s first drawing, and a complete lack of refined power in the act itself – but after taking Mistress Servalan‘s caning class at DomCon one year, I re-examined my style and began to work on my caning form. (PS: I will never stop singing the praises of Mistress Servalan’s caning form, as well as the rest of her excellent corporal punishment capabilities. The sheer power running through that one arm of hers is incredibly awe-inspiring. You’d have to see it to believe it.)
Caning now feels almost balletic. The feeling of my body aligning together for the perfect stroke is near ecstatic. The THWACK! of a rattan cane tearing up an ass cheek on first stroke is utter satisfaction. The satisfaction of seeing those perfect parallel marks decorating a red and purple derriere. The sheer simplicity of hitting someone with the most OG of weapons, a stick, is almost divine in and of itself. It feels natural, and it feels right.
Judicial caning, for those not in the know, implies a set number of strokes to be carried out with however much severity deemed necessary. I personally do not utilize safe words in my judicial canings – or else, what’s the point? You might as well just carry out a standard caning then.
2. Caning, all other forms.
That’s right! I made caning take up TWO SPOTS on my corporal punishment list because that’s how much I love it. Bet you didn’t see that one coming, did you? Bastinado, hand caning, dick caning, tit caning…the world is truly your oyster when it comes to beating people with a stick! Go forth and beat the populace with sticks, my brethren. You, too, shall experience a world of pain and regret that will have you confusingly coming back for more.
I’m always impressed by people who can take a good tawsing. The Lochgelly tawse is, in my somewhat-humble opinion, one of the more painful implements within the world of corporal punishment. Something about a dense, multilayered split piece of leather strap makes it incredibly ouchie for all those brave enough to bear its bite.
I love playing the game of “which one hurts the most” with my more masochistic clients. It’s a simple game: which one of these toys hurts the most? And you know what? A tawse is almost always up there, despite being so very innocuous looking.
The particular form I use to implement the tawse is also remarkably similar to caning, so for me, it’s a very close runner up to the full-body high I get from a clean cane stroke.
4. Singletail whipping.
We all know what a singletail whip is. In fact, in most of our initial conceptions of what a Dominatrix was, I can almost guarantee that she is carrying a whip. Whipping was automatically built into my personal understanding of Female Domination as a BDSM activity, and so it should be of little surprise that I still feel very fondly for it today.
A whip is the only nonmechanical manmade object capable of creating a sonic boom. (You might need to fact check me on that one, but I’m fairly certain on it.) I want you to think about that. The amount of skill, dexterity, and grace to create a mini-sonic boom from a thin line of leather or nylon, and then to direct that sonic boom into a precise spot on the human body. The artistry of the motions required to successfully bring all these factors together into a precise stroke. The simplistic elegance of such a weapon! Truly divine engineering.
So, of course, use it to make men cry.
Ah, yes, hitting them with even bigger sticks! Logs! The natural evolution of weaponry!
I typically leave paddling for last as, upon the advice of my whipping boy, it tends to leave the most marks and devastation. Whatever bruises and marks had been building up in previous moments of caning/whipping/tawsing/cropping/belting/strapping/whatever become bulldozed by the paddle, thus resulting in an explosive, bloody, brutally bruised ecstasy.
Indeed, wielding a heavy paddle and powering it through the air until it shakes a bottom’s hip bones and rearranges their whole body is highly satisfying. Paddles typically come with a thuddier sensation that resonates more deeply in the body – quite the opposite of the stingy, sharp pangs that I typically reach for first – and therefore they are a perfect complement to all these previous activities! (For me, maybe not so much for the sub…)
My favorite types of paddles are almost always invariably large wood paddles with holes drilled on them for aerodynamic ease. A perfect balance of heavy density and speed. I also enjoy holding oversized objects like fraternity paddles because, well, Napoleon complex.
6. Strapping and belting.
Similar to tawsing, strapping and belting are more delightfully simple pieces of leather that carry with them so much suffering. Hot. While not quite as painful as the tawse, straps and belts are still quite effective modes of discipline.
I think there is something wonderfully classic and realistic about using a strip of leather to punish someone. After all, we all own belts. I’ve personally taken off my belt to beat people in impromptu public play scenarios… because it’s important to always be resourceful when finding modes of making men cry. 😉
And that’s it! This list is obviously not exhaustive. And, I mean, I honestly love all modes of corporal punishment. I’ll frequently pick up a toy that I poo-poo’ed prior, only to realize that I love everything about it – the weight, the new way that I need to adjust myself to flick it just right, the sound, the sensation. Each time I’m at a new dungeon or using my friends’ toys, I’ll spend some time test driving everything I’ve never used before. I’ll have a delightful time getting to understand a new implement and all the many ways I can utilize it for sheer pain and suffering.
After all, few things are more satisfying to me that hitting people. It’s the little things, you know?
With that in mind, go forth, brave kinksters. Hit and be hit. Spread the gospel of corporal punishment! It’s a good’un.
PS: Black and white whipping photo in the beginning by Ryan Bussard.