Session on a Sunday Morning

Putting myself into His hands is the essential elemental activity of my life and our relationship, and it never seems to me to be the same thing twice. For us, although it is true that our lives are full of day to day, mundane details and chores and obligations, the place where we come together and express ourselves to one another and with one another is in our sadomasochistic play together. I don't perceive that doing that is as fraught with energy and emotions for Him as it seems to be for me. It looks to me like He does what He does, and it pleases and excites Him, and that's really it. He doesn't spend a lot of time anticipating it, and I doubt very much that He really spends much energy in deconstructing it from every conceivable angle. I am the one who does that. For me, every single encounter stirs the depths and brings up whatever is there.



We didn't play yesterday (Saturday), and it made perfect sense to me. I understood, when we woke up, that neither of us was feeling like it physically, and I was content to let the day start off as it did and simply let it go. We ate and we walked, and it was pleasant and companionable. He chatted with the latest "prospect" (at my urging), and then shared the contents of that chat with me. I took note of my inner sense of calm about that, and gave myself a mental pat on the back. Mostly, we relaxed together and simply enjoyed the day. Somehow, though, as the day wore on into evening, I began to feel disgruntled and out of sorts. I was just fussy inside my own mind, and couldn't find anything that felt good or calming or satisfying. I didn't see that bit of emotional storminess coming, and I didn't understand what was driving it. It did seem that, by the time we headed off to bed, it had lightened, and I was feeling more level. Shrug.



This morning, it was clear from the moment He began to awaken, that He was inclined to spank and fuck. Not an unusual circumstance on weekend mornings. What was unusual was that Saturday had gone by without any move in that direction...



There was nothing unusual at the outset. It is common for Him to pull me in close and wrap me up in a bear hug, and "hump" away at me for awhile. Most often, He does that before He is even fully awake, and I've learned over the years that it is best for me to simply stay quiet and still and do my very best "teddy bear" impression. I think that that snugly, cuddly, humpy time is time that He often spends dreaming/fantasizing His way into whatever it turns out that He wants to do with me eventually, and it doesn't help to have me squirming and/or jabbering away at Him. So, I just curl into Him, and doze and dream and enjoy the softness and formlessness of that space.



This morning, lying there, I noticed that I was feeling emotionally fragile. Weepy. Shaky. Overwhelmed. I didn't have any sort of coherent explanation for the wash of emotions; I only knew that the tide was rising, and I was being swept along in spite of myself. On top of all of that, He was being particularly good to me, this morning, stroking me in a way that was calculated to generate sexual heat and excitement. Tossed into the emotional stew, all of that intimate gentleness just turned me to a heap of quivering mush.



That was when He decided that He'd like to make love first, and then play. That is a complete reversal of our usual pattern. He worried that I wasn't turned on, but I was happy enough to oblige Him and climbed on board. One of the great benefits to His remarkable weight loss is a huge surge in virility and responsiveness. It wasn't long before He was moaning happily in the throes of orgasm. It was clear that I wasn't going to manage a similar trick, and so that got added into the emotional flood in which I was trying to swim.



We stayed cuddled together for a bit, and then He was ready to spank. He asked me if I wanted to be spanked -- not something that happens very often, and I simply did not know. My head and my reactions were just all over the place, and I didn't want Him to leave me alone, but I was unsure of my capacity to get through a spanking. I didn't want to fail Him, or disappoint Him. I knew what He wanted. There was no way I was going to say, "No," but I couldn't do anything but hang on to Him and shake and sob.



It didn't take long for Him to make the decision, and send me off to get ready over the arm of the sofa. I could hear Him wandering around, collecting toys, and I tried desperately to get my head into the place where I would be able to do what I needed to do. I just kept shaking and the tears just seemed to flow from some reservoir all their own.



He started out asking me if I were going to by "His today," and I told Him, in a tiny, wobbly voice, "Always, Sir."



The session that He took me through was full of a whole range of sensations -- the sharp and biting edge of the knife, the smack of the wenge cane, the alternating slap and then plush softness of the bunny fur paddle, the bite of a quirt, the sharp burn that the falls of the kangaroo-hide cat create, the insistent pushing pleasure of His fingers invading my sex, and the raw thudding smack of the paddle. I cried, and wailed, and shook, and shuddered. I wallowed in my emotional sogginess... and then, as things progressed, I somehow found myself following Him in the dance He was creating. The little, shaky, worried voice slowly quieted. The muttering just sort of ebbed away in my mind, and there was nothing there but the strokes He was landing on my butt and my back; nothing but the sharp lines He was drawing up and down my body with His knife; nothing but the overwhelming desire to somehow get closer to Him so that I could wrap around Him and hug Him, nothing but the consuming sense of amazement and gratitude as He coaxed the orgasm from my reluctant sex... In the end, all the turmoil that had preceded it was banished, and I was floating along to the music He brought out of my bare flesh.



He finished. I thanked Him. We staggered together back to snuggle for a bit before finally giving in to the need to take on the day.



swan