Acrylic Paddle

He has two new paddles -- one made of acrylic and the other fashioned from hickory.  He also has a new knife. 

We have an interesting dance going on between us; one for which I don't feel like I know all the steps. 

There is the recent "re-discovering" of the potential for me to get into and get off on SM play that begins more slowly and brings me along.  It turns out that, if I'm into it, I can take more and last longer, and that seems like a good thing on the face of it. 

On the other hand, He is still the sadist, and there is something in Him that just balks at what He calls "patty cake" sessions.  He gets caught, intellectually and emotionally, between His sincere longing to have me experience some pleasure in our SM interactions, and His almost visceral reaction to anything that even remotely resembles "service topping."  Almost always, when this dichotomy comes up, He reverts to sessions that begin with no warmup and no build up; that begin (from my perspective) in the middle -- at the peak intensity, and then go on and on and on.

That was the way of it earlier in the week (Tuesday), when He decided that He wanted to paddle me with the new acrylic paddle -- just the new acrylic paddle.  After all, He tells me it does such a great job of turning my butt a nice even red.  Except that, for whatever reason, when we played this time, it didn't create the coloring that He was looking for.  He paddled and paddled and paddled and paddled.  I held on for dear life.  T came in at one point, bringing a load of laundry to hang up, and He stopped to talk with her while I just laid there over His lap.  When she left, He started over.  A few minutes later, she was back with yet more laundry, and again He stopped to chat -- and then started over.  I can only assume that there was some "ideal" number of strokes that He had in mind, and wanted to deliver in an unbroken series.  And, of course, there was that elusive shade of red that He was looking to create. 

I don't know if He ever got the red shade He was after.  I do know that I was all the way to hopeless by the time He was done.  There is no point in yelling or hollaring or struggling, He will do what He will do, but I was convinced that it was never going to end, and that the acrylic paddle would surely outlast me.  Finished, we headed into bed, and He quickly fell asleep.  I remained awake most of the night, unable to lie on my back or to cool the burning that grew and grew in intensity as the night wore on.  By morning, my butt looked pretty good, but felt hot swollen with a sensation that the skin was tight and stretched.  I had the distinct impression that if I turned or moved the wrong way, the skin would split leaving open wounds that would bleed or ooze.  I wasn't convinced that it really would happen that way, but the physical sensation was at war with my logical mind.  We are now to the weekend, after a very long and difficult week, and I am pretty well healed.  All week long, He's been telling me that He just wants to paddle me again, so I imagine that we'll be back at it later today. 

I need to find my "yes, Sir."  Anyone seen one of those laying around anyplace?

swan