December 25, 2009
Dearest Doc-
It is five days post-spanking, and I am sitting here, trying to answer an unanswerable question....was this the punishment I wanted? The paddling you gave me Sunday.
Because I am a masochist, and because I do trust you so absolutely, the kind of punishment that I reject, utterly, at the time, the brand of punishment that I don't want, is the kind of punishment I want, at times.
There are many times that I crave a tolerable spanking, or an erotic spanking, one that stings, one that makes me complain.... but ultimately, one I can stand, one that excites me, even in the moment.
Then, there are other times.
As I sit here and try to put words to the flavors of agony and that passed through me during this punishment. I have to sort through the complexities of what I am feeling.
When you took me over your knee, in the strait jacket, you told me that you were going to warm me up, but I didn't expect a long warm up.
Only because I knew this was going to be a punishment, and I might need the shocking element that comes with a hard spanking on the bare, with little warm up. That did not turn out to be the case. I needed that long luxurious warm up, both emotionally and physically....
During the time you spanked me over your lap, it was initially very warming and erotic. I slowly came to a space where I felt like I was ready for some pain. Then your hand began to sting more. Once again, reality visited me, pain is real, not a fuzzy, erotic notion floating around in my masochistic fantasies.
Even as I was alternating between wanting more and hurting too much. This spanking was so satisfying at this point, and you were only using your hand! The strait jacket added to the mood. The inability to move very far, the inability to reach back when you spanked too hard.
In time, you put me over the couch to punish me. In all the time you have spanked me, you have never punished me over the couch. Spanked me, yes, but a spanking is a different experience from what I was facing at the moment.
You left briefly, and I took the opportunity to take the sorority paddle, yes, even though I was restrained in the jacket, and slide it behind the wall. When you came back, you took the thick, heavy bread board from the kitchen counter in place of the sorority paddle.
I thought you would spend some time looking for the paddle, but you had transformed to the sadistic Doc, the one who coolly dispenses punishment in this mode. If I hide one implement, you simply select something else that is worse! I begged for you to put the bread board away. I know how heavy and hard it is, just from the few swats I have received with it in the past.
I scurried over to get the paddle back, and give it to you. See? Now, you can put away the bread board. No.... hmmmm.
You put me over the couch, and as I positioned myself, I was aware of how exposed and taut the skin on my backside became. This gave me a lot of worry about how much a paddling would hurt.
I asked, as I often do, for a safeword, and you directed me to the bookshelf. Teasingly, I thought, at the moment, telling me they were right over there. In my position, in the clothing I was restrained in, they may as well have been in Chicago.
When you did begin paddling, you started, I think with the sorority paddle. I had pleaded enough to get you back to the original mode. The first three strokes hurt madly, but I could tell they were warm up strokes, and you weren't swinging very hard. (Later you told me that you *never* paddled me with your full strength … wow, that is sobering!)
That changed rapidly. Very soon into the paddling, I couldn't take any more. The strokes felt furious, relentless. The way the sorority paddle stung was deep. I know I was screaming, on the path to crying early.
You insisted that I needed to feel the bread board, to be able to distinguish the difference from the sorority paddle. The paddle came down hard - not onto my flesh, but into my flesh – the pictures show this graphically! To try to describe the agony embedded in those strokes, is like trying to describe being hit by a train. There is no eroticism there, only punishment, and harrowing punishment.
I begged readily and openly for the sorority paddle. As your punishment continued, I begged for whatever I wasn't getting.... That’s why partway through I begged for the bread board! I do that when I absolutely need it to stop, when I need something else, anything else, other than the melee that I am in the midst of.
Truly, even in the density of the pain that was making me howl.... there was a far off vapor of, and it was only a vapor, of reason, of lucidity, that wanted and needed it to continue. The rest of my being screamed for reprieve, and begged with all sincerity for you to hear me.
When you did, and you stopped paddling me, just short of hysteria...... I began recovering. As I did, I realized that I couldn't stand up straight, the skin on my bottom was tight and burning, and very much not wanting to be moved. It took you pulling me up into your arms, before I could begin to come down.
I can honestly say that this is not an every week or every month level of punishment. It was hard to take. It seems like I crave this, and you give me this intensity about twice a year.
Did you punish me too hard? That is a question I can't fully answer, because the short answer is yes, you did punish me too hard! Did I want that? Yes.
The longer answer is that when your sadistic desires are being unleashed on me, it is not just for my benefit. Part of what gives me satisfaction as a masochist is the release of your sadism. That I am the recipient of that gift, is fullfilling to me.
That I look back on that punishment and say, yes, I do want that to happen again, someday, not soon, but yes, someday, tells me that in a very complicated way, I did like that punishment. If I were less thoughtful about the consequences of expressing this, I would say, yes, I liked it a lot!
Thank you for your sadistic endurance. It is not a light heart that takes the chance with this kind of punishment.
My safewords are safe, and I am glad I have them with me, enshrined..... never to be broken into.
Kisses.
steph