Posted at 10:41 on 4 Jul 2013 by Pandora / Blake
Earlier this year I found myself in one of those tricky, unspanked states. I knew I needed an intense sub session that pushed me and left me bruised and tearful and cleansed, but I wanted to be dominated, which generally relies on someone else wanting to do those things to me. Specifically, I wanted D to want that sort of scene; if he'd done it as a favour, it wouldn't have struck the right chord.
Once I've identified this need in myself I can quickly get stuck in a frustrated, uncommunicative loop where I don't want to ask for what I want, because that's not the point;but expecting my dom to be telepathic isn't generally very effective either.
One of the ironies of my life is that it's quite easy for me to arrange to be spanked, either on a film shoot or in a 121 switch session, but neither of those would give me the loss of control I was looking for. Nor are they with the person I feel most submissive to, and who is most capable of taking me to those dark, satisfying places.
After feeling sad for a while, I eventually decided to practice being a grown-up, took D's hand while walking somewhere one day, mastered my voice and found the words to express my need. This resulted, a week or so later, in a thrilling and (on that day, at least) unexpected CP scene which left me feeling intensely loved. He delved into his toybox for the first time in a while, and I got to feel his long leather strap, riding crop, quirt and cane. I was so hungry for it, and I trust him so deeply, that I sank quickly into that receptive, submissive space, experiencing fear but not letting it overwhelm me, and accepting every sensation he wanted to bestow.
I remember lying facedown, stretched out full length on the bed, while he worked his way down the backs of my thighs, each slap more painful than the last, until he reached my knees. Surely he wouldn't smack me there.But he did, and doing so he broke some box in my head, some set of rules about acceptable places or ways to hit someone. Being spanked on the backs of my knees, because it was so new and so unexpected, broke me out of my comfort zone. But rather than freaking me out it somehow tipped me over into a state of blissful passivity. After that, I knew that anything might happen; there were no rules. But I also knew that it was my D doing it to me, and so whatever he wanted to do, it would be alright.
In that context, everything he did to me that actually felt good was a gift. When he used the riding crop on my bottom it was pure pleasure, and I lifted my hips and groaned gratefully into the pillow. Another time he moved around to the end of the bed and gathered both my feet in his hands. I barely had time to process what was happening before he was smacking the soles of my feet lightly with the crop.
I've never really played with bastinado before - only once, on a shoot for Falaka Online, and I remember finding it intensely painful and, without any D/S context, pointlessly unpleasant. But now, in this strange new anything-might-happen headspace, I found it almost easy to take. There was an initial emotional hurdle, an oh-god-is-this-really-happening, but then yes, it was happening, and it was D doing it, and it was okay. It hurt, of course. But the awareness that he was deliberately pushing me made me feel very submissive. He cradled my feet gently in one hand and whipped my soles lightly, experimentally, not so hard that I couldn't bear it; testing my mental limits more than my physical ones. I love a mental challenge, and I wanted to be brave for him. I also welcomed the intimacy of him knowing exactly where my boundaries are, and wanting to push against them.
I was simultaneously very calm and peaceful, secure in my utter lack of control over what would happen next, and trembling with fear. In context, that fear and vulnerability was incredibly erotic.
He rounded the scene off with a caning - on my bottom, not my feet. It was satisfactorily hard, no more than I could take. After that (and an orgasm) I felt as if I had completely melted into a puddle of submission. I was relaxed and at peace, still full of that wonderful sense of release that comes from giving up control, accepting whatever might happen; but the fear had flowed away.
It may not have been the violent, physically extreme, sobbing and crying scene I had imagined, but it was enough to let me tap in to that inner submissive calm. It left me feeling cared for, tended, and very loved.
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