Spanking Evolution?

I've been wandering the trails in my mind; uneasy with my erratic and unpredictable masochistic drives and desires.  I am caught, and not for the first time, in trying to understand and corral my longings and find some way to simultaneously suffer and enjoy. 

I know that for some that is all pretty straightforward and obvious and relatively easy.  But it often baffles me.

One night, a week or so ago, lying awake in the darkness, I wondered if there might be some insight about it all buried somewhere in the over five years of words poured out here.  So, for the last few days, I've mined these blogs for the threads that I've woven together here.  Seriously cut and pasted back together, here is the stream of consciousness that I'm hoping might help me to understand more about my spanking orientation --

I've been struggling with the masochistic side of our relationship … It is where I live… a huge component of my slavery… is predicated on the sadomasochistic power exchange between us… there is only the searing agony and the fear and the humbling knowledge that I will hurt and beg and most often break... I am feeling sad, longing for gentle touches, yearning for the sorts of foreplay that might inflame me ahead of the pain I know is my lot... I am, perhaps a terrible coward…We'd already been playing at what we call "pussy-whacking" …He kept it sexy, scratching me and stroking me with the tip of a knife blade … I began to relax into the framework of the stocks… cold and clammy and shivering, but still there and still in control of my fears, able to hang on and be with Him, and submit to His will… I hate choices in the middle of sessions. My mind whirls in a thousand directions and I can't make it settle down to the decision point… Ingrained behaviors serve. In my mind, I began the mantra which carries me through the worst of these times -- "Yours always and all ways…I so often enter into the beginnings of a spanking in fear and dread…He declared that He thought I needed to be spanked and fucked. My heart leapt in me. It has been a long time that He has made that definite sound…I did beg Him to hold onto me, which He did, wrapping a strong arm around my waist to hold me down and immobilize me for the blows which he rained down on my ass and upper thighs…He counts. I don't. I breathe and stay…went to Him…and asked, "do you think you might have time to spank me sometime this afternoon?" in my tiniest, littlest, least demanding voice…the thing that keeps me here or turns me lose to go into subspace, is his intent. If he lets me go, then I’m gone. If he holds me with his mind, then no amount of struggling on my part will get me there. Tighter than any bonds that he might impose on my body, he holds my mind and my soul…when it is going to land on my ass, I take the production of substandard crap personally…When He knew I was alright and just awash in my feelings, He went after me with intent and intensity…paddles and the cane and the leather strap -- welts and blisters and blood drawn and groans and grunts and sweat and cries and sobs. I begged and thanked Him and writhed under His hand…our play is extreme and hurts…I bleed, I blister, I bruise, I welt, I cry and rage and sometimes break... When we play the way He likes to play, the way He fantasizes about playing, it marks me physically and emotionally… latigo flogger… is the heaviest and meanest flogger in the arsenal… I felt only the heaviness and the depth of the thud. And then, I felt myself slide over the cliff into subspace... the "rules" of football here...Master paddles for points scored. Any and all points scored. By anybody…Penalties for breaking position, for breaking the rules, for not taking it well... We begin again. We double the count. We always up the ante…I don't earn spankings. That isn't a game we play. I am spanked, and caned, and strapped, and whipped … because I am His and He wishes it. Sometimes it gives me pleasure as well. Always, it is my pleasure to know that He loves to do it, even as I struggle and suffer… Hand spanking might be too thuddy. Cause too much jarring. Maybe hurt something inside…But the cane. Light and whippy. No thud at all. All sting. Oh. And the rubber whip. Even lighter. Plenty of sensation. Not a single jarring impact. Exactly. Exactly what I needed. Even a few marks. And tears of relief and release and connection and earth-bound reality again. And pure, simple, animal gratitude…He was there with intent and demand, pushing the covers away and pushing my legs apart…He was stepping up the pace and slapping harder and harder as I moaned and yelped with each impact, struggling to stay open to the onslaught. And then He'd back off and stroke and soothe and murmer into my panting awareness…So sure of Himself. So sure of me. So completely sure of us…Anytime I am dropped into a position of helplessness, powerlessness, and perceived "aloneness," I experience a reaction which goes very quickly to black rage… I still react in a very visceral way at the edge where control is surrendered. It is a difficult passage for me... I need to be taken through that place…Hand spanking doesn't usually last… He returned with cuffs and straps to bind me into place under His power and for His desire…One hundred strokes with each …I love you, Sir. I love you, Sir. I love you, Sir… until there was not agony, but pleasant warmth and connectedness again…The week of prescribed paddlings ended, explosively. All the paddlings delivered as promised. When the time came for the last one, I was bitter, resentful, enraged, hurt. My anger boiled over and I exploded. Broke all the rules. Raged and stormed and flailed… I am not a good actress I am afraid. I can, and do (at least try) to endure whatever He seeks to do with me, but it isn't the same. I know it and so does He…This morning, out of nowhere, He stunned me, by beginning to PLAY with me. Not hurting me -- playing with me sexually… I only clung to Him in straining hunger…Spanking and fucking. Nothing fancy. No costumes or role plays. Just simple and elemental and primal…Leather is my delight. There is something about the pain that leather brings that is deeply delicious and …What some would see as "punishment," I am experiencing as reassurance… He told me it was time for my whipping. YIKES! I'd given that up. I'd assumed it wasn't going to happen. I'd quit thinking about it. Now, here it was. Right in front of me. I felt my stomach drop, and suddenly, I needed to try and get to the place where I could do this… the whip is a frightening adversary…I was still a bit fascinated with the whip, so I told Him that I thought that I wanted to try the whip again…Maybe if I could get a bedtime spanking sometimes… I could feel a fire building in my butt surely, but a heat elsewhere too. By the time He had started to up the ante with some really sharp strokes that were raising welts, I was riding the wave and feeling the power that comes from a good session that brings its own sexual tension… I quit thinking, settled into my body, and just let Him take me where He was planning for us to go…I'm not sure when I started begging Him to wait -- "Wait! Wait! Please, Wait!" I heard Him chuckling -- "What is it we are waiting for?" He asked me… "Did you miss the train?" …I need to be tightly restrained, gagged, and taken where I would not go voluntarily … into blood and welts and deep bruises…Completely drained, spent, gone… I was dreaming that You were teasing, and creating this most delightful heat with Your cane...the notion of a REAL session that steps through levels and stages to some culminating point seems terribly exciting… have been times (relatively few) when He has undertaken to seriously punish me for some infraction or out and out bit of bad behavior… purely awful…there is something powerful in the flow of energy when He paddles and straps and canes me that bangs through all my defenses and makes me know Him entirely…insisting that I am His and will be His and will, therefore, of course, be spanked…For me, flogging is like a present…We've been spanking more, and more regularly, and I've been … even enjoying a bit. I've found myself wanting it more, needing it more, asking for more. Master has been right there, welcoming and jubilant…I am wondering what it is that I really need and want…I just know that everyone else in the entire spanking universe is way better at it on every level than I am…He likes that place where I suffer… clearly having a good time watching me squirm and gasp…I seem more inclined to think about spanking and more likely to be thinking about it in odd ways…the idea of OTK speaks of intimacy and closeness and long, sensual, hand spankings…One day, I soar on the sensations He creates, and the very next day, those same sensations make me just miserable…Somehow, it never ever occured to me that being over His knee would be so physically intense, so immediate, so utterly intimate. Up close; melted into Him; feeling the blows He was raining down on my butt, intertwined with His caresses…If I promise to be good, would You spank me, please?...

I think there are nuggets of insight there.  For me.  Maybe for us.  Having it here, maybe I can find some way to make sense of it for myself...

swan