Maestro, Please?

He held the cane in His hand, and directed the music that I am sure I heard. No conductor of any orchestra ever wielded the baton with such grace or such sensuous suppleness. His smooth wand traced the contours of my flesh, awakening the nerve endings as it traveled. By times, there was no actual contact at all, only the teasing promise of a touch as the rattan tickled through the fine down that covers my skin. My breathing followed His lead as He directed my rising emotions and desires. The lightness of the touches only drove me to long for the sharp staccatos that I knew He could deliver if He only would. Those swishing, sweeping, strokes brought my whole mind into the music He was creating until I was writhing and undulating, thrusting my hot ass up to be burned by the score from which He was reading...

And then the dream was over, and the morning came.

The first words out of His mouth, when the C-Pap came off, were of the stocks and a whipping. I found myself plunged, in an instant, into the darkness where I go at the mere mention of the stocks -- where it is an effort to simply breathe without shrieking; where it is all I can do to stay in place and not run; where I hope that my mere quiet will be submission enough until I can be restrained and unable to do anything else.

In the end, He opted for something less -- for a session that was very much like what we'd done on Saturday morning. He began with His hand, but quickly moved to the paddle and the heavy rubber strap, and I don't know what all else. On Saturday, it was grand, but on this morning, I howled and raged and simply made my way through the darkness.

Of course, He did not know of the lovely, lyric dream that was... I never spoke it -- until later. There never seemed an opening, an opportunity. When I did tell Him, He was angry with me. "Why didn't you tell Me?"

But really, it never seemed to me that there had been a place in the rush that was our awakening to say, "but, Sir, I was dreaming that You were teasing, and creating this most delightful heat with Your cane..." Perhaps I should have stopped and made that happen, but I never really saw how... Still, the dream remains, and the memory of the music it evoked in my mind and in my body. I am hoping that with that dreaming, the potential exists for us to create the reality -- perhaps as the holidays bring us the gift of a bit of time.

swan