I keep starting to write this, and then finding myself stuck. For someone who has the capacity to blather on and on and on, I feel strangely awkward; like a newbie; as if all those many, many years (documented in this blog and The Swan's Heart that came before), count as so much nothing with regard to BDSM play.
The weekend days are so precious, and as I indicated in the last post, my Saturday was spoiled to a large degree by a nasty migraine headache. If I say the "M" word to Himself, that is the death knell for any sort of spanking play or even plain, old, garden-variety sex. My headaches are taken so very, very seriously, and He won't do anything to make them worse, or make me any more miserable than I already am in the throes of an attack. So... that was the story on Saturday.
By the time I got sort of over it, and began to feel better, it was late in the evening. Too late. And so, we sat up together, watching football (yes, it is the season), and probably baseball (that season, too). It was well past midnight when we finally headed off to bed. And so, we slept very late on Sunday morning.
It was a nice waking up time. I felt pretty good. He rolled over and put His head on my belly, and I rubbed and scratched His back. We talked. Nothing heavy. Just chatting -- the sort of drowsy, just coming to awareness sort of back and forth that I've always loved. Back and forth; sharing ideas and tidbits of our lives.
But then, we get hungry, and given our various blood sugar issues, there is no way to delay that -- when it is time to eat, it needs to happen as soon as possible. Nothing for it. I piled out of bed and hustled out to the kitchen to put together some pancakes and scrambled eggs and bacon and coffee.
We ate, and then I got busy doing the various weekend chores: laundry, school work, baking, cleaning chores, garden stuff... He gets wrapped up in watching the digital video recordings of the Sunday morning news programs; and then, the Sunday TV sports programs -- football/baseball. Somewhere along the line, in the midst of all of that, I start to figure that the weekend is basically over, and that, since we tend to only spank in the mornings before we get up, it isn't going to happen...maybe next weekend. I really try not to get all bent out of shape over that, but I can't claim to be entirely easy and sweet about it either. I miss that intimacy.
So, I was a little surprised when, after dinner on Sunday evening, He looked at me and suggested that maybe we could set up the flogging frame... No. I was not just a little surprised. I was amazed. And thrilled.
The flogging frame has not been up since long before His shoulder replacement surgery. Before the surgery, His shoulder was so painful that there was no way we could contemplate wrestling the heavy top off the flogging frame, and even if we could have managed to get it up, the arthritis in His shoulders would have made flogging just impossible. After the surgery, the recovery and rehabilitation period extends for a full year. His shoulder healed perfectly, but by the time He was feeling capable of swinging a flogger, He needed another knee replacement. That was last summer -- just over a year ago. It wasn't easy, even as knee replacements go, and the rehab course took longer than we anticipated. Then, His other shoulder started to hurt... and so it goes. We are definitely headed for another shoulder replacement. It is only a question of time, and probably not a lot of time either.
So... I was torn. Of course I wanted a flogging, But things are complicated for us. There is a tentativeness between us that is hard to navigate. But, beyond that, I did not want Him to hurt that shoulder. Actually, I didn't want Him to hurt either shoulder. Not with the flogging itself, and definitely not with the sheer brute strength required to set up the flogging frame.
We wrangled back and forth, considering the possibilities... until, finally, I suggested that maybe we could use the spanking bench instead of the flogging frame. THAT was the ticket. He quickly agreed. I went and pulled the bench out of the bedroom and into position in the living room. I messed and messed, trying to remember how to get onto the thing and be halfway comfortable, and He rounded up a pile of floggers... and other things. Of course.
It was good. The floggers fell this way and that. He used His hands and a variety of knives, and had me squirming, feeling sensations that haven't visited this part of the world for a very long time. From soft, sensuous suede and the heavier buffalo flogger; working up to the sharpness of the kangaroo-hide cat, the flogging was amazing. There were paddles, of course... and the rattan cane, and one of those birch-rod styled thingys. All the way along, I was entranced and fascinated by the waves of sensation He was causing to play through my body. It seems I've finally found my way back to "it." Finally. Yeah.
It was good. Good.