Stirrings

I have stirrings.

Faint and whispery and not very consistent or reliable, but there nonetheless.

In the quietest depths of my mind, and in my long silenced loins, there are the undeniable rumblings of sexual wishing and desire. What is more, those stirrings are the familiar longings that I remember from what seems a long time ago.

I am finding myself thinking about asking Him for bits of His time so that I can get spanked. I was ready for that this morning -- but He was already wrapped up in a thousand busy details by the time He got back from T. So, not today... but soon, perhaps: a day when it will be OK to ask for what I am starting to need more and more.

I am caught up in dark fantasies that revolve around our light and stingy leather tawse, and the requirement that I hold my place, stay open, and ask Him to strap my pussy -- again and again and again.

More and more, my house is full of furniture that suggests places to get spanked, and positions for spanking, and opportunities for spanking.

These days, I am inside my head, trying to figure out what to do about the difficult reality that I often don't "like" the hurting that comes from what He wants to do. That is my continual dilemma -- the hurting that I crave hurts, and hurting makes me sad and angry in the event. Still, the cravings are there and, seemingly, growing. For Him, the problem is that He loves me, and He hurts me, and I get frustrated and angry and weepy, and He loves me, and... He used to not care whether I "liked" it or not, but things have become more complicated between us in some ways.

For all of that, I feel cautiously joyful and hopeful. Is it possible to be cautiously joyful? I feel lively and awake. I haven't been asleep, like Rip Van Winkle, for decades, but I've been sleep-walking through my life for way too long. Waking up feels really good.

swan