Please?

Here in southwestern Ohio, there's a unique and very distinctive local speech mannerism.  If you come across a "local," born and bred in this region, native, you will find that if you speak to them and they do not understand what you said, of do not hear you clearly, they will respond, "Please?"  Not "What?"  Not "Excuse me?"  Not "Say that again?"  Just a very soft, very pleasant, very inflected "Please?"  Some people believe that the Cincinnati Please is a remnant of the city's very German immigrant beginnings.  In German, the word "bitte" can be used to mean "pardon?" but also "please," and so there is a connection. 

That little bit of linguistic sight seeing may not be interesting to anyone but me, and it really has nothing at all to do with what I am wanting to write here today.  I am stalling.  I am.

Because.

I have a huge (well for me anyway) spanking jones going on.  I've been awake, off and on, through the night imagining a "real" session -- not the sort of scaled back, scaled down, sort of hurts but not really, doesn't take me all the way there kind of play we have gotten into lately.  AND, I do know that that is the only sort of play I've been willing/able to tolerate for a very long while.  So, I am asking, "please, Sir..."  Can we play today?  Please?

My jumbled imaginings include a whole bunch of elements with no plot and no real story line. 

I want the spanking bench.  I want to feel the cool, soft leather under my cheek.  I want to be able to sink in and be sure of the support of that sturdy and solid bit of furniture holding me up and holding me down.  Safe and secure.

I want a blindfold.  I don't know for sure why.  We don't ever do that.  I am not even sure that we have a blindfold, but there must be something we could use.  Usually, I hide my face during a spanking.  I have a very soft, very used, travel style neck pillow, and I hold onto it and sink into its darkness.  Shutting out the visual images around me helps me focus and settle.  I want to not have to manage that today... 

I want (in no particular order) a whole host of toys, many of which are not my usual preferences.  I am always glad for the kangaroo hide cat.  That always works for me, and is not out of the ordinary.  But then -- I am longing for the cane and the very long, very narrow leather strap.  He's been using the quirt lately, and I have gotten very caught up in the sensation it causes.  I am remembering and imagining the sharpness of the red acrylllic paddle that we bought from Leather by Danny.  I am wanting the heaviness of the wenge cane.  I've been circling around the birch rod that He loves so, and wondering if I can find a place to embrace that again.  And then, lying in bed this morning, He mentioned the dressage whip, and I felt my guts tighten and my cunt start to throb.  Yes, that too.  And whatever else.  Surely, He'd have His own list... 

Please.  Sir.

swan