Wait! Wait! Please, Wait!

Like an express train running downhill on a clear track, His penchant, when He gets a whip in His hand is to lay it on with speed and enthusiasm. Whatever the "common wisdom" is in BDSM circles about warm-ups and all that pretty fantasy pablum that is doled out to the starry-eyed newbies, His favorite approach doesn't often include that nice, slow, sensual, easy build up...

So, on Sunday, when He was ready to start in with the rubber flogger and told me to roll over, I was hard pressed to get into position quickly enough to suit Him (especially since He was lying on my arm and I really couldn't roll over as requested without ripping my arm out of the socket). Once I did manage to get myself extricated and rolled over onto my stomach, He was right on me before I could even get myself flat on the bed.

Or get my arms tucked in.

Or try to get my breathing settled.

Or get my head in a halfway appropriate space.

Or...

He'd contemplated (earlier) not spanking me at all because I was so marked up from the day before. Then, remembering the rubber flogger, I think He decided that was "light enough" to inflict a significant level of pain without doing much damage.

Rubber burns. It lands and adheres. When it pulls away, it pulls the top layer of skin with it, and that pulling leaves a sensation that is like sunburn -- everyplace it touches.

Rapid fire whip strokes with the rubber flogger and I was soon gasping for breath. I simply couldn't keep up. Even the most minimal bit of processing takes a bit of time. Just the barest bit of space can give me chance to accommodate the patterns and rhythms of it all -- to catch the wave and ride it.

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.

"I just need a minute," I told Him. "I can't catch up. Please. Just give me a minute."

He just laughed. "Did you miss the train?" But He stopped for a few minutes and held me while I panted my way to some sort of center. I knew, and He knew we weren't nearly done -- and we did (shortly) get right back to it.

Some would say I had more control, in that moment, than I ever should have had. I don't know. I don't have anything like a formal safeword. I talk to Him. I react. I lay the responses all out for Him, and He decides. I don't have any illusions that He has to "wait" just because I ask Him to. There have probably been dozens of times when I ask for time and don't get it. This time, He read the signals, and decided, to slow the train down long enough for me to at least climb on board.

swan