“Arch your back” he whispered to me after placing me just how he wanted me against the wall. My forearms were flat against the rough surface and my legs were spread slightly. Not quite enough. “Wider.” He said. His hands and lips trailed down my neck and back leaving me shivering with need and anticipation. He can be startlingly tender and gentle and seems to know just when I need that. He can also be frightfully demanding and rough with me. It goes without saying that he seems to know just when I need that too.
On this day he knew exactly what I needed. I had just returned from a trip for work and he met me at the airport. I was exhausted but still excited to see him.
Once we were alone he sat on the foot of the bed and pulled me over so I was standing in front of him. His hands glided up and down my legs and traveled quickly beneath my skirt where he caressed my bottom through my panties, his fingers pressing and kneading into my skin. I like this part. It is calming to me as I get to see and feel his tenderness. It is an interesting combination, so gentle yet so deliberate, so intentional. In my field of work we often say it is the process not the product that matters. It is the same with Richard and the more I allow myself to open up to him the more I see it. The process is most interesting to him because he is already very much aware of the product or the outcome- that being unconditional obedience. Ms. Anna once tried to explain to me before I even met Richard, back when I was still trying to talk Mark out of making me meet him, that when Richard walks into a room you have no doubt he is very much in control. I saw that right away. It is an attitude, a demeanor that can’t be described without being witness to it.
Without straying too far from my point….not too long ago I received an email from someone who visited my blog. I had written about an especially arousing yet obviously painful and intense experience with Mark. The email asked how on earth I was able to tolerate such treatment from a man. I had to laugh because the word ‘tolerate’ never comes to mind now and it never entered my mind then either.
So where was I? Oh…..that’s right….his hands up my skirt with me trying to figure out what was next. (I think I am tolerating this quite well). Anyway…I had a feeling this session with him was going to be different. There was just something in the air I suppose. I should back up…… I’ll get back to being pressed against the wall in a second. Before that happened I told him that I felt like I should shower because I had been in the air all morning. He said that was fine but first he wanted to spank me. *sigh* So I ‘tolerated’ being pulled across his lap and then I ‘tolerated’ having his hand smooth down the back of my skirt so it was placed just right. He began to spank me over my skirt and after only a few seconds I was wriggling around. It hurt!
For some reason you Doms think that a thin piece of cotton allows for a much harder spanking opportunity. After a few minutes he stopped and pulled me up. This is something new. It is this process that he seems to enjoy (again, I am tolerating this) where he will spank me in different stages of undress. First over my skirt and then up goes my skirt and he spanks me again across my panties, (love this…… btw). And then of course the panties have to eventually come down, but never the whole way down. They just sort of sit and decorate the backs of my thighs. There is something quite erotic about being across his knee and having my panties in this suspended animated state where they aren’t quite on and they aren’t quite off. It changes your state of mind, and I find that with every transition in regards to my clothing my state of mind shifts. I am learning that sub space has many levels and perhaps I begin to enter into this mystical place quite independently as I anticipate the experience. By the time all of my clothing is off my body I am quite warmed up and ready for whatever comes next. Usually.
I remember today just felt different. I was exhausted and had a slight headache and I knew I would have less tolerance for any sort of pain than I typically would. I was worried that he would ask too much, that I wouldn’t be able to meet his expectations. I also knew he was kind enough to call the meeting off if I told him I wasn’t 100% and I really wanted to see him! So I didn’t say anything, looking back now I realize I should have –not that the day didn’t turn out extraordinary but if only for the reason that if I am not 100% I can’t give him 100% and that is what he expects.
So thoroughly spanked I was sent off to take my shower. The shower helped and I am sure the spanking induced endorphins flooding my blood stream had something to do with my improved mood.
After my shower I stepped back into the room with a towel on. He gave me that ‘drop the towel’ look. I hear they teach that in Dom school.
Anyway…..so when I came back in the room he was waiting for me.
He said, “Come here.” And that combination of words in that voice is on my top ten list of things I like to hear. I think I will have to post that list here one day!
Obediently, I went to him and he led me to the wall where he told me to turn around and face it. This is where I started the post. I really needed to write about this because I feel like I have so many new experiences I am losing some things I needed to write about.
So I am standing there against the wall still damp from my shower waiting for him to touch me, or cane me or do whatever he wanted to my body. I only had to wait a second before I felt the first slash of his cane. I knew it was coming. I saw him pick it up, I heard him swish it through the air, and I felt him nudge my already open legs apart with it.
One after the other they came down on my skin and after just a half dozen or so I was as close to asking him to stop as he has ever had me. It was a hard caning with a heavy, thick cane. (as I sit here thinking of it I find that I am getting terribly aroused…I don’t get it, do I actually like pain or something…lol!).
I remember trying to dig my fingernails into the wall. I was thinking at that point that it is much easier to take a caning when a) you are bent over something and b) you are lying down. Standing makes me feel more, especially when I am standing straight up and not even bent over at the waist. I feel everything when I take it that way; it is much, much harder. Am I the only one who feels that way, I wonder?
Richard does a wonderful job of balancing the pain and the pleasure for me. He has made it a priority of his to learn my body, my responses, and my reactions so he can tell when I am on the verge of asking him to stop and when I am on the verge of orgasm. Of course I know him stopping before he is ready isn’t going to happen but he will slow down and talk me through what he is doing. He will also give me pleasure at the same time he offers pain…the hardest thing is trying to keep it clear in my mind where one starts and the other begins. After a while I realize the two are so closely mixed it doesn’t matter, both are intense and one supports the other. The pleasure is a distraction allowing my mind to be able to absorb the pain and then in turn change the pain into the best sort of pleasure. And that is what was happening at that moment. I guess he grew bored with caning my bottom because he changed to another cane, a lighter one, and began to cane me across my back…not too hard at first but gradually it grew and spread into something that was pretty hard for me to stay on top of. Again just when I was ready to beg him to stop he would touch me and stroke me until I was begging for something entirely different.
He never allowed me to stray too far from the pain or the pleasure. I felt frustrated and not quite sure of what I needed. Only that I needed something to make it all better…or worse… (?). I remember turning my head to one side and closing my eyes. I allowed the pain to travel lower as I pulled it down into something I could handle…I made it into something good. With each stroke I tingled inside with the rush running through me. It was hot and intense and I welcomed the cane on my skin as much as I welcomed his hand and fingers pressing into me. I have often wondered if the human brain can become confused when there are so much contradicting sensations. Thoughts like this can pull me suddenly from the gentle grip of subspace and all too soon I felt the pain as it truly was……pain. I was barely holding on when he told me to turn around. He lifted my hands above my head and at this point I am pretty sure they were tied together. He told me he was going to cane the fronts of my thighs….and I have never, ever cried from being caned but for some reason just the thought of that brought tears right to the backs of my eyes. Though they never turned into official tears it stuck with me how close I came. I stood there and closed my eyes knowing how hard it was going to be, knowing that it was going to be incredibly painful, knowing that I would do it. Knowing that somewhere behind the tears, behind the plea to stop I wanted it. He knew I wanted it.
He changed canes once again and I refused to watch him, I didn’t want to see what he was planning on using on this most sensitive past of my body. I knew it would be OK, I did trust him after all. So I stood there as he picked out a perfect cane to use on my thighs. The first stroke was hard, harder than I would have expected for him to deliver there. I swear the second one was even harder. I felt my skin swell into two even welts and I felt a damp flush cross over all of my skin. I was ready to stop. I had turned my head away from him not wanting to know if he was finished or if he was planning on a dozen more. It wouldn’t have made a difference anyway.
My legs trembled beneath me and I hated I was showing weakness. I felt his hand circle my throat and he tilted my head up so I was looking at him. He squeezed slightly and asked me if I was alright. I closed my eyes and barely nodded my head Yes.
‘Good girl.” He said easing the pressure. “Take one more for me.”
Again I nodded knowing it didn’t matter, it wasn’t a question so much as a statement. The last stroke caused me to gasp aloud and clutch at him searching for a support that was already there. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against him, his hands exploring my body until all thoughts of unmanageable pain were gone.
He literally held me up as he played with me…it was an amazing experience and things seem to be getting more and more intense the more we see each other. And the rest of the day was like that…intense and meaningful. It is nice to have the chance to learn so much about myself….this has all been so unexpected.
What a crazy journey.