Taking Care of "The Jones"

I indicated, in the Please? post that I had developed a sudden jones for a real session -- a "real" spanking that would carry me AND Him beyond the sort of routine and mundane sadomasochistic play that we've fallen into over the last couple of years. 

That slang term, "jonesing" means "to crave, or to desire strongly."  When "jones" first appeared in African-American slang in the early 1960s, it was as a noun meaning "a drug addiction, especially to heroin.   No one seems to know why "jones" took on the slang connotation of "a drug habit," but by about 1970, "jones" had percolated into more widespread slang use in its modern "gotta have it" sense.  That, surely, makes it work for where I was yesterday morning when I woke up, and when I wrote about it here. 

Of course, like just about everything else in our world, this did not go down simply or smoothly.  I told Master about it almost as soon as I'd posted it, and He went immediately to read what I'd written.  He was thrilled (surprise, surprise), and told me that He'd been fantasizing about that kind of session for awhile.  We were on the same page!  Hooray!

Unfortunately, He had a doctor appointment at mid-day yesterday, and so suggested that we could play when that was done.  OK.  Seemed reasonable to me.  So, we got busy and got cleaned up and headed off to see the doctor.  When we arrived for the scheduled appointment, we found that the doctor was running seriously behind.  We sat in the office and waited for well over an hour, and by the time we got in and finished the appointment -- and then drove home, it was well after 3PM .  Neither of us had eaten, and so there went the afternoon.

He began discussing the alternative of playing today.  And, I began to fuss.  I was not at all sure that my "jones" would stick around that long, and without that craving to shore me up and fire my masochistic fervor, I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to actually go through with what I'd imagined, and what, as a consequence, He was planning.

I woke up in the very early morning hours today, around 2:45, and was just devastated.  There was no sign that my jones was still working.  Jones seemed to have moved on down the road, perhaps heading for some lucky masochist living in Topeka...  I was afraid and sad.  It just didn't seem fair!  I rolled over in the darkness and began to work to reach some sort of place of acceptance with it all... back to my trusty mantra:  "I love You, Sir.  I love You, Sir.  I love You, Sir..."  Over and over and over.  Those words were droning away in my brain when I finally fell back to sleep, and still rolling around when I opened my eyes again. 

He was already up when I woke up this morning.  Stumbling, sleepy-eyed out into the living room, I found Him sitting on the couch, surfing the web, and sounding despondent and sad.  Oh no!  Not a good sign.  I figured there was no way that we'd be playing if He was feeling "low."  It just takes too much energy from Him to pull off a good session.  If He's not feeling up to par, it isn't going to go well.  It made me sad, but there isn't any point in insisting if He's not "into" it. 

So, I fixed His breakfast and went to get cleaned up.  I have needed to go get some fasting blood work done, so I asked Him if it was alright with Him if I went and did that.  He offered to go with me and I was happy to have Him because I wasn't entirely sure how to find the place by myself.  So we were off together, and by the time we returned He seemed to be in a better place.

There were some odds and ends of things that we needed to attend to -- some residual work needing to be done to complete His father's taxes from last year, and a transaction that He wanted to make to replace a worn out sofa on T's side of the house, and some conversation with the attorney regarding His work situation...  The everyday sorts of stuff that can suck up hours if you aren't paying attention.

And then ...  Around about 2:30 this afternoon, He suggested that maybe it was time -- was I up for playing?  Up for it?  Up for it?  All the waiting, and the sense of disappointment when it seemed as if it wasn't likely to happen had completely rejuvinated my wayward and fickle JONES, and I was sooooo... ready! 

We pulled the spanking bench out into the living room and wandered about closing the blinds and locking the doors.  We rounded up the toys and found the one blindfold in the place.  I got onto the bench and He settled me with the blindfold and the usual restraints on my knees and wrists.  I felt calm mostly -- a bit apprehensive, but not at all freaked out or crazy. 

It was a session.  Lots of different implements including paddles and straps and His beloved switch rod and the dressge whip -- even a newly acquired rubber flogger that I have been completely terrified by ever since it arrived a couple of months ago.  The switch rod had me convinced that it was cutting me to shreds, and in fact, I did bleed enough to require a bandaid after He used it.  Still, I was able to accommodate and tolerate everything He used on me, and when it was over with, I was left feeling soft and grateful, if a little shakey.  He got me some milk, and tucked me into bed with ice packs.  After a bit of time to allow the ice to do its work, we made love, and that was good too. 

So, my friend Jones, got well taken care of.  It ended up feeling like He and I had done something together instead of in opposition to one another.  Tonight, both of us are feeling calmer and contented with each other.  It is a very nice feeling. 

swan