You see, the other man (t.o.m) is also a member of the sadist's stable of submissives.
It was a curious situation. I was a reward of sorts, a gift to show the sadist's gratitude to t.o.m for some service far beyond the call of duty. It created a very curious collection of hierarchies, all existing simultaneously. On the one hand you could say that I was being objectified as mere property that could be shared with another as my Master wished. And because t.o.m was using me, that put him above me as well. (Actually, behind me, as I was bent over and he was repeatedly driving his cock into my admittedly wet cunt.)
On the other hand, because I was being given as a reward, as a gift, as a special treat, it was clear that the sadist, our Master, views me as something special. Someone special. In giving t.o.m a tour of my noteworthy features, he referred to me as his "current project", which seemingly makes me sound like no more than the latest in a long line. Now I don't know what t.o.m was hearing, but the sadist was very clearly sending me messages underneath the words that pointed out the delights offered by my nipples and the frustrations incurred in trying to train an artist:
You are my angel.
You are my pet.
You are my treasure.
You are smart
you are sexy
you are beautiful
and I am very, very proud of you.
So even though I was still scared that he was planning on brutally flogging my breasts while I was tied down and helpless, my general mood became light and happy and grateful for the chance to prove myself. And thus, I did not feel that I was at the bottom of the heap. I felt empowered. Isn't that odd? I did not feel like a disembodied hole, I did not feel like a whore, I did not feel like a rape victim, despite the fact that I used those words during the time I was serving t.o.m, in hopes they would excite his desire.
I am so used to knowing exactly what to say and what to do to please my Master that it was a little tricky serving someone for whose specific proclivities I had not been trained. Still, he did seem to enjoy me. And most important of all, for both of us, my Master most definitely enjoyed observing and directing t.o.m's use of me.
So what about the spanking and flogging and caning referred to in the title?
There was a fair amount of it. At least of the spanking and flogging as well as some beating with a leather strap of some sort of which I had only a quick view before being bound belly down by my ankles. But as I mentioned previously, my sadistic Master - who likes to tell me that I cannot count on his protection, which is true because one can never swear that the beast won't one day get the upper hand - my sadistic Master does his best to protect me. He does his best to stay away when the beast is fully rampant. He designed the flogger so he could bring it down hard on my body and yet not do too much damage. And he told t.o.m to take it easy with me. That I don't have a high tolerance for pain. That I am not a masochist. Which is all very true. A little goes a long way. So while my ass was quite reddened over a period of time by t.o.m's hand and then by his application of my beautiful flogger, most of the time it didn't hurt very much. Still, it obviously did have an effect on me, as my pussy opened and swelled and moistened.
I'll admit it.
I did like being probed and poked.
I did like having my nipples played with.
I did like being tied down to the bed.
I did like being fucked.
What I am not sure of is how I would have felt if t.o.m, too, were a sadist. And if my Master had given him the go-ahead to use me as harshly as he wished. And if my Master had decided he wanted this to be a different sort of experience for me. If he had wanted me to be humiliated. If he had wanted to leave me in pain. He has all sorts of plans for me, the curriculum he has designed is long and detailed and progressive, with very clear goals along the way. Clear to him, anyway.
However, I suspect the sadist knows me well enough by now (better, I admit, than I know myself) that he won't expose me to an experience before he knows I am ready. And perhaps that is one reason why I trust him so much. He will take me places I never knew I could go, but he will have me wanting to go there by the time I arrive.
There is more to be said about spanking and flogging, including the flogging of my tits. For yes, the sadist did flog my tits. While I was restrained. But you'll have to come back another time for that story.
Still, that leaves the caning.
Or the suspected caning.
I still haven't received confirmation on that.
But after t.o.m left and then a while later, after my Master left, having thrown himself on me and fucked me and cum in my mouth and other beautiful things and given me water to drink from his hand in the most... giving way he has ever done before... after he left and I fell asleep on the bed - on our bed in our dungeon bedroom - and I eventually woke up and went upstairs... I looked at my butt in the mirror. It was still reddened from the spanking and flogging and strapping... and I saw 2 cane welts. I am sure they were cane welts.
I didn't exactly remember being caned. Except possibly, at one point, when the sadist was demonstrating how I need to be reminded to stay focused on the job at hand (in that case, t.o.m's cock being the job literally in my hand), and I felt two blows to my buttocks, one on each cheek, which at the time I took to be very sharp spanks. And which now I suspect were relatively gentle strikes of the cane. And I looked at the welts and sighed with happiness at the thought that I had my Master's marks on me.
Thank you, my Master.
Thank you for teaching me what a joy it is to serve you.
I will willingly serve you in any way you wish
in obedience and submission and love.