Toy Collection Report #3

Jokari.

Sometimes with something odd sounding like that, I wonder if the word might actually mean something else... So I went and looked, and no... it really is just the name of the game, and for me, the name of a paddle. Except that, as paddles go, I have more trouble with this one than with most of the rest of them. For me, Jokari ought to mean "adversary," because it really does feel like my relationship with it is that of opponent or enemy.

When the Jokari paddle is "on the menu," my assumption is that it is all going to be horrible. I can't relax. I can't talk myself into any sort of calm place. The continual refrain in my head is: "nothing good is going to happen...nothing good is going to happen... nothing good could POSSIBLY happen!" And, of course, predictably -- nothing good (from my perspective) ever results from a Jokari paddling. Surprise!

So, the prescribed session with this paddle began on Saturday night. Late on Saturday night. We'd been at a meeting all day, and He'd been telling me that He was just dying to spank me... Unfortunately, on our way home, we got caught in a terrific traffic jam -- so the trip that would normally have taken us about an hour and a half lasted almost three hours. We were pretty well toasted when we got home. We managed to eat dinner. We sat together and watched some TV -- reruns of "House." Not a word was mentioned about any session through the whole evening. It wasn't until we got to our bedroom, well after 11PM, not until after I'd wandered around and done all the setting up chores -- that He pulled me to Him and began to spank me.

Piled face down over the side of the bed, hanging on to the blanket for some sort of anchor, I was surprised, and just not mentally ready for a full on assault with "the enemy." He has since told me that He really didn't use the paddle very intensely; that He was consciously trying to be careful with it. What I experienced, however, seemed hideously over the top, and as I fought to hang on to my blanket, I felt the fury boiling up inside of me. At some point it overflowed and I came roaring up, clenching my fists -- in an absolute rage. I didn't actually move from my position. The butt stayed put, but my frustration and anger was palpable.

I could hear the surprise in His voice when He talked me down. "What's going on? That didn't go very well. We'll finish this tomorrow. Come to bed, now." I crept into bed, burrowed into His chest, and tried to calm my breathing. I, of course, fussed all night.

The next morning, as we started up again, I knew how shaky I was, but I was determined to "be good." Even the very mildest implements, with which He started, burned into my flesh, and into my consciousness. I whimpered and shook and sobbed. None of the things that sometimes calm me were of any use. I was miserable in every cell of my being.

He stopped, after only a few minutes, and asked me what was wrong. I told Him I really didn't know -- that I just felt really mad, and that I didn't know why... He pulled me in, held me close, stroked me, and crooned silly, meaningless, Master noises at me. After a bit, when He asked me if I was really sure that I didn't know what was making me so angry, I heard myself sobbing about how it was December and that sticks me right back in front of the anniversary of the hysterectomy surgery, and I know that no one wants to hear how much I miss being OK sexually, and I really try not to dwell on it or talk about it, but I miss it... Or something like that -- all spilled out in a rush and a muddle.

I think that He did finally paddle me a bit with the lexan paddle and not the Jokari. I've spent the last few days believing that it was still looming out there somewhere -- the finish or completion, but last night He told me that it was time to move on to the next toy collection post. He even specified which toys should be part of the next piece.

So, I have survived the encounter with the enemy, at least for now.

swan