Posted at 17:35 on 9 Apr 2010 by Pandora / Blake
When I posted a mini write-up of the birthday caning I got last weekend, I'd intended to write a proper post later in the week to accompany the rest of the photos. Then the workmonster got in the way, and then having sat down to write about the scene, I've ended up rambling about D/s and energy and stress, which wasn't what I'd planned to write about at all...
I'd been thinking about that caning for days. Tom's actual birthday was on Thursday, and I was ready and willing to be taken in hand after our evening at the pub, which was very merry. Belonging to a workaholic with chronic health problems does mean I have to balance my desire to be spanked with my desire to not put any pressure on Tom, however. Beating me for my sake rather than because he actually wants to would be kind of missing the point.
It's sometimes a tricky balancing act, though. After all, I'm a workaholic myself; a chronic insomniac leading several different lives, running two and a half independent businesses - stress and fatigue are part of the daily fabric of my life. When I'm very busy and my head is full of other things, sometimes it's not easy for me to play unless I've spent some time working myself up to it beforehand. If I've been thinking about my lover, and being spanked by them, then subbing when I'm tired comes more easily because I can summon that remembered happy anticipation, inhabit it and use it to step aside from the stresses crowding my mind.
At its best, D/s does this so I don't have to - my partner's authority becomes enough to banish all other thought from my busy head. That becomes more true the more you play; you're setting up an association between your partner's dominance (expressed by voice, eyes, touch) and a meditative state of mind which allows you to focus on the moment without distraction. Religion plays the same headgame - it's psychodrama, ceremony and repetition establishing neural connections that become stronger with practice.
Play is energising, at its best; so when both of you are tired, sex or spanking can be a way to get away from it all, rejuvenate your emotional connection and stimulate body and brain with a flood of hormones and endorphines. But you need to put energy in to an experience in order to get some back out - which is more true for Doms, in some ways (or perhaps Tom's just a perfectionist). So play tends not to be the answer when you're both completely wiped.
So, on my way to the pub on Thursday, I actively put the stresses of the work day out of my mind, and enjoyed fantasising about the birthday caning I suspected I might be in for that evening. Bizarrely, the hottest idea that popped into my brain was being made to say "Happy birthday, sir!" after counting each stroke. I'm not normally into humiliation, but in that instance the silliness and embarrassment of combining birthday wishes with a difficult caning situation seemed like an intense headgame. I imagined feeling a bit like Marilyn Monroe singing Happy Birthday, Mr President. Being commanded to do something foolish, childish, but with the focus always coming back to the Dom, to the reason for the caning, the fact that this was in celebration of their special day and I was just an accessory.
When I described my fantasy Tom laughed and told me that it would be hot for the first six strokes, but after that he would find it even more irritating than I would, and by halfway through the novelty would have worn off and we'd both be bored out of our brains. This is probably true of many of my fantasies - I love fantasising about interminable, long-term punishment scenarios in stress positions which would be physically impossible in practice (or decidedly un-erotic given my back problems).
Anyway, on the evening of his birthday itself he was too tired for more than an intimate snuggle, so I had to wait until Saturday night to be spanked. Two days is a long time in my world, and the intervening period was a whirlwind of stress, urgent deadlines, panicky clients, cancelled commitments and lack of sleep. I finally finished work at 10pm on Saturday night and trekked over to Tom's with a bagful of groceries. (I long for the day when I will not need to travel to see him, it will make everything so much more convenient.)
By the time I was lying on the bed, arse lifted over pillows, my stressed body and brain were still finding it difficult. I desperately wanted to be spanked - I knew I needed it, I'd been wanting it for days - but I was just so tired, and I'd had almost no downtime since we were last together. I had no tolerance. The strokes bit more fiercely than I'd thought possible; my breathing was all over the place. Rather than the soft, languorous responses that are elicited by a truly, masochistically erotic caning, I was hissing through my teeth, frantically sucking in breath, screwing my face up. The worst strokes made me jump up, banging my fists on the mattress. I knew it was one of the lightest canings he'd ever given me but it was really hard.
I wanted to please him; I also wanted to please the me of earlier in the week. I knew I'd regret it if I begged out of my one chance all week to be properly whipped. And when you put energy in, you get it back out. By the end of the weekend all my cares had poured away; I felt closer to Tom than I had in weeks, and was refreshed and ready to jump back into the maelstrom after the long weekend.
This isn't a question of whether I'm doing it for him, or for me. When D/s is working properly there's no difference between the two.