Here trish and I present her fraternity paddling, in two parts; first, the paddling itself, and second, our comments afterward.
Thank you to trish for preparing this post and writing out the narrative and transcript.
And, of course, for suffering under my paddle.
This is severe.
--Doc
Dear Doc,
As I listen to these sound files, the punishment room floods back into my mind – its dim yellow lamp on the nightstand; the two beds; the chair in the corner. I was sitting on it while you set up the ropes on the bed nearest the window. Were you whistling, or is that just my memory’s imagination of your happy sadist again, busily working away, anticipating the delightful meal of suffering about to be offered him?
I have rarely been as scared in my life as I was sitting there in that chair, or a few minutes later, lying naked and trussed to the bed, when the first sound file begins. You were trying to start a conversation with your captured prey, but I could barely respond. I could hear the pain-thirst filling up your voice, and my words came out tense and constrained, the sound of my voice floating above my body like its frightened twin.
But this was an experience I had yearned for. And you knew that. You knew that I wanted to experience real pain, to be hurt more than I had ever been hurt before. You decided that a “run down a black diamond slope” with the fraternity paddle would take me where I needed to go. You understood me better than I did.
I have learned since that your understanding in these matters is anything but commonplace.
Doc, I know you understand this too -- that I am now, as I was then, extremely grateful to you for this gift and for the many others you’ve given me.
Yours,
trish