Saturday dawned bright and beautiful, with butterflies the size of bats in my belly. Though, the lingering soreness from the previous night's conversation made me smile.
I was afraid. Afraid to get my hopes up. Afraid that if I did, some one's plans would change and we wouldn't have the alone time I was so desperately looking forward too. Afraid that the plans wouldn't change and what I thought I wanted, what I thought I needed, wasn't actually what I wanted or needed.
It had been so long, what if it didn't work? What if it was just painful and that was it? What if, for some unknown reason, I was no longer "into" this whole D/s lifestyle? It has been so long, it seemed now to belong to someone else, in some other life time. So many what ifs, they made my head spin.
As the day went on many thoughts spun through my head. Maybe I should go buy some new lingerie, or new bed sheets. Maybe I should have gone and gotten my hair trimmed, as I've been saying I needed to do for a couple weeks now. Was it too late to wax? In a panic, I realized I was out of shaving cream, now what? I seriously felt like a teenager going on her first date, ever. So silly, I know, but that's me.
Musicman didn't seem to be suffering any nerves at all. I suppose it's different for the one on the other side of the paddle. Or, possibly, it's because he's not a silly woman like me. We settled in and watched a movie while the kids got their plans in motion. Eventually, the house was empty and we had a nice quiet dinner together. By that point, I think I was just looking for reasons to delay, due to all the doubts swirling through my head.
I can't honestly say I felt relief when he directed me to get into position on the couch in our room, but I must have, cause I was in position in a flash. The silky pajama pants I was wearing did nothing to prevent me feeling the full force of the paddle when it started to fall. He rarely does much of a warm up and I rarely ever get spanked over clothes of any kind. Within just a few swats he stopped to divest me of the pajama pants and then went right back to wielding that paddle.
It didn't take very long before IT happened. I started to cry. I've never cried during a spanking before, nor have I ever had a desire to be spanked to tears. It wasn't the pain that caused me to cry, it was just all the bottled up stress and emotions that had built up over the last couple months bubbling to the surface.
Thank goodness he understood what was going on and did not stop. Instead, in between swats, he rubbed my back and whispered soothing things to me. He checked in with me often to see if I was okay and despite the fact that I was sobbing, I wanted him to continue and he did, until I finally collapsed into a heap on the edge of the couch.
He stayed near and soothed me until the tears were all gone. I felt so much better and with my backside on fire we moved on to more sexy activities. I even found the nerve a bit later in the evening to tell him I wanted a bit more, with the leather strap please.
Yes, he obliged that request.