Gasp, Shake, Thank You

A fiery background seen through a heart shape
Image by nova031 (CC BY‑ND 2.0)
This post is about me being hurt and frightened. Intensely.

It made me very happy. But if it might bother you, please feel free to have some utterly misnamed Good Clean Fun instead.

Negotiation: He leans back against the pillows. I perch opposite, bolt upright. It feels like lying every time I don’t call him sir.

He thinks I’m scared my limits might be violated. It takes three tries to explain that I’m scared of begging him to forget them all.

Scening: He gives me choices. I overestimate my courage. Ten seconds in, and I’ve scared myself into emotional shutdown.

He interrogates me so patiently that it takes me 24 hours to realise how baffling my lack of reaction must have been.

His voice is in my ear, his breath is on my neck. How can he invade my mind more when I can’t see him?

He swishes a cane. I think, “That’s not going to work.” Then it cracks my flank and I’m wrong.

I apologise too much. He says, “From now on, I don’t want you to say sorry.” Argh. “I want you to say pardon instead.” What?

I fail and fail and fail. I’m devastated every time. He’s amused.

I don’t think he knows why I start saying thank you as the cane strokes get harder. It’s not because of zings, it’s the dam breaking.

I don’t scream. I gasp, variously. My throat keeps thinking it’s the Sahara. By the end of two hours he has let me drink two bottles of water.

He delivers a running commentary on the interesting noises I make. The humiliation should kill me. And it does, but oh thank God he’s enjoying me.

He waits for endless minutes while I try to find a position on the bed that works for my cursed body.

The paddle hurts more on my left. So that’s where he hits me more. The bruises are spectacular in the morning.

He has two smiles. One for everyday. The other for laughing or gentling me like a horse. Or hurting me.

I expand my repertoire of trembles. Quivers. Palsies. Whole-body shakes.

He interrupts the endless waves of agony with an order to look at him. I’m so terrified of what I might have done to deserve That Tone that I feel zero pain from the next volley of paddle strokes.

He chuckles when I safeword, keening and shaking. I melt.

More. And then – too much. Too much, too much. In exactly one breath I’ve gone silent, still and blank. The blow lands, my hands clench, and I blink at him, unpanicked. Safewords are suddenly very far away. My vanilla self copes with pain by not caring.

I’ve probably safeworded or shut down a dozen times. He brings me back seamlessly every time. It doesn’t seem to occur to him to be annoyed. I still tear up from pathetic gratitude.

He orders me to kiss his feet. I fold to the floor so fast, he probably thinks I have a foot fetish. Thank you, thank you for letting me touch you. For letting me thank you.

Aftercare: He strokes my face with two fingertips and tells me I’ve done well. What did I do? All I hear is meaningless condescension. My heart squishes with canine happiness.

I ask, “What would you like me to do differently next time?” He blinks.

I could hug him forever.

That night, I wake up after two hours. I can’t go back to sleep. I just keep reliving it. Searing pain, panic and protection. Oh God, I want more.


8 thoughts on “Gasp, Shake, Thank You”

  1. That’s intennnnse. I didn’t realize how much pain had been involved. Yeesh! I’m assuming this was a “slow-down” type of safeword, and it was okay for him to bring you back and continue..? I certainly hope so. Anyway, I’m glad you thoroughly enjoyed yourself :)

    Oh, and I loved the phrase “canine happiness.” Finally a good way to describe the feeling I get when a partner calls me “good girl.” I feel like an eager-to-please, wide eyed, innocent, slobbering mess..hahah.

    And thank you for linking my blog :)

    1. You said it. The sheer terror may be the reason for the thing we’ve emailed about. And he actually stopped early and said we should be cautious because it was the first time. I wonder what he’ll be willing to do to me next time. o.0

      Not to worry about the safewords. I said yellow every time, not red. And I asked him not to make me safeword when I wasn’t enjoying it. The sense of responsibility kills me. Most of the safewords were actually because my wretched body can’t hold position very long.

      And you’re very welcome!

  2. This was almost painful to read, and beyond lovely. I hope you’ve had a chance to thoroughly recover. So much intensity has a habit of changing more than one thinks: a storm that shakes the foundation can leave paintings askew in rooms where nothing is quite damaged.

    At any rate. Beautiful. Intense. Thank you.

    1. Thank you Nic! I just could not believe how emotionally needy I got afterwards, and for so long. Your comment makes me feel so much better about that. And there were all kinds of firsts which I didn’t write about. It’s so good to have permission to have all these pesky feelings.

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