I Like Canes? (aka, Spanking and the Pregnant Girl)

Who knew?

Well, I sort of knew. I knew that pregnancy could make one feel tired, nauseated, weepy, grumpy, horny, and hungry (sometimes all at once). I knew that pregnancy could radically change one's body type and shape (duh). I even knew that pregnancy hormones could make one's nose run, feet cramp, ankles swell, and hair grow. What I didn't know is that pregnancy could make me like canes.

Over the last five months I've been noting all the different changes in my body, from my suddenly bountiful breasts to my thickening waist and finally protruding belly. I've had little to no interest in spanking, but I attributed that to hormones and a pretty miserable first trimester, so M and I haven't played much for a long time.

When we first started thinking about having a baby, I met with my Ob/Gyn and asked her if it was safe to play while pregnant. She said it was fine as long as I was careful about any direct blows to my abdomen (which isn't really my kink anyway), so I definitely would have felt ok playing, but I didn't have the interest.

Cut to the Shadow Lane party this past weekend. I tend to play very hard, but since I haven't been spanked much lately I didn't know what my tolerance would be like. M and I talked about it and decided it would be easier for me to refrain from playing or only play lightly. Truthfully, I would have been fine to go without playing for the whole party (I've certainly done that before!), but then Bridget asked if she could spank me and I agreed.

We had to figure out a comfortable position for me, since I'm just getting to the point where I can't lie on my belly for too long, so we propped some pillows over the end of the sofa arm in Pablo and Mija's room. Bridget and I have played before, several times, and she knows which heavy strap is my favorite. After a very brief warm-up, she went right for the strap. Which hurt. A lot. At first I chalked it up to my lower pain threshold (getting waxed before the party almost had me in tears), but I still couldn't settle into the pain or relax into the strokes.

Finally, I had to give in. "I think I'm only good for a few more," I said.

Bridget nodded. "Can I give you a couple with the cane?" she asked.

I had to think about this for a moment. Normally I really don't like canes. But Bridget likes using them and I figured it couldn't hurt worse than the strap. Plus, for as much as my bottom was telling me the scene should be over, my head wasn't ready to have it end so quickly. So I agreed.

"Only a couple," I said.

She chose the thickest cane on the table (thoughtfully laid out by Pablo) and gave me one stroke. Not bad.

Another stroke. Still not bad.

Another stroke. Still not bad?

I was starting to realize that rather than tolerating the cane strokes, I was welcoming them. After those first three (interspersed with gentle cane tapping), Bridget dutifully stopped and checked in with me. "You can keep going," I said.

And she did. She tried several different canes on me, varying the intensity and speed--I ate it all up. I was finally getting to that pleasant place in my head, the floaty, warm place where I look forward to the next stroke. Yum...

After a bit, however, I think she got nervous about my sudden affinity for the cane and offered to finish the scene up with a few licks from the strap. I agreed, thinking that I was safe and floaty enough to welcome the familiar heavy thud. But it was horrible: sharp, biting, jarring. I found myself clenching my stomach muscles as I tensed for the next blow. She only gave me a handful of strokes with the strap, but I had to stop her quickly and ask for a few more cane strokes to finish.

I am more puzzled by this turn of events than any other single event, craving, feeling, or experience in my pregnancy thus far. Wine smells like paint thinner, pork makes me want to throw up, TV commercials make me cry, and canes make me purr.

Weird.