Whip

Cascade.

That appears to be what is happening.

One thing tumbling after another. The falling away of the lost and alone, frustrated and angry feelings seems to have opened me up to a whole torrent of sensations that were completely inaccessible for the last many, many months. Suddenly it is as if my body is charged and a-quiver with the needs and longings that were dormant for so long -- just memories; or worse stiffly held fears. Now I want and crave His touch everywhere, and not just want it but am hungering for it.

Sex. Anytime, all the time. Lots and lots of ooey, gooey, sloppy, gushy, sex. Nifty.

And now, in the last few days (and nights), I am noticing the masochistic impulses are reviving as well. I find myself dwelling contemplatively, at the oddest times, on that wicked singletail whip of His. That whip has been hanging on the lamp in the bedroom for well over a year. It is dusty with lack of use. It never was an implement that I loved. In fact, it always brought a shudder of dread and terror to my soul. I endured the whip to please Him; always made it through whippings by sheer force of obedience and will, whimpering and begging and sobbing the whole way...

Now... I am finding an odd clenching and flutter starting deep in my insides at the dark thought of that sinuous black snake of leather. Now. Now, I am dwelling on the look of it. Now, I am leaving school each afternoon; driving home; wondering if today will be the day that schedules finally mesh and demands finally lighten up enough to leave us the time to ease off into the murky depths where the singletail flies through the crackling stillness to answer the question that I cannot answer until...

There is very little breath in all of that. There is deep stillness. I find myself watching myself. Waiting to see where this upwelling will take me. Listening to the life coming back into my life.

swan