Perfect Timing

Very early this afternoon, I got a surprise that I needed very, very badly. I was out and about, running around the city, in my pajamas. This morning, I woke up not really caring. My stress level has been running so incredibly high, and my submission tank, while not anywhere close to empty, was not, and has not, been running on full. I've taken several matters into my own hands, and have been passively orchestrating them. I was in a "and if I fall, and fall hard, so what? I'll get back up. . . . . always have. . . " kinda mood, and it had been steadily getting worse. Thanksgiving, while enjoyable, was EXTREMELY high stress for several reasons. I was put to bed extremely late, and I woke up early. Needles too say, I was, and am, tired. All of that to say. . . . . I was about to the edge of some seriously not fun times. I've got some nasty coping skills when it comes to stress, and they were all about to come into play.

This morning, I was pretending (for what I hoped was the last time for a few days) to be 100% ok, stable, and enthused about life as it was. I saw KYOTKGUY come around the corner of an appointment I was at, and I immediately got this feeling of relief. Just being in his presence was enough to allow me to let my walls down. . . . to allow me to relax, and allow someone else to lead. I was surprised, to say the least, and instantly giddy beyond measure.

We wrapped up everything we needed to around town, and met back up at the apartment. He'd brought lunch, and we sat down to eat. First, though, he asked me a question. . . . a question that I knew he knew the answer to, and that I had zero desire to answer. I was in his arms (he on a stool, and I standing in front of him). I went to take a step back, slightly out of reach, before I answered, for I felt the shift of his body that said, "The instant you answer me, I'm turning you over my knee." Some part of mind just KNEW that stepping back would protect me from that. Well, I wasn't given a chance to step back, I answered the question, and I was turned over his knee. Three exceptionally stunning swats later, I was stood back to my feet. While I didn't yelp, the intense burn took me by surprise. Three swats. . . . . over jeans. . . . . Oh boy. After eating, we headed to the living room to talk. By this point, I had let go of much of my defenses, of much of my tension, of much of my walls. We talked, bantered, caught up. I was lying in his arms, and I was the happiest girl in the world. . . . until he asked another one of those questions.

You know, the ones that seem to suck all the air out of the room. The ones that make your heart stop, and the ones that instantly say, "This is not gonna be good." So, I did the most logical thing. I ignored the question. I had been "in charge" in a lot of things for the past while, and several of my vices had begun to crop up. . . . including slight passive aggressiveness. I actually managed to ignore the question so thoroughly that I forgot about it. . . . but KYOTKGUY did not. At all. Out of the clear view, he shifted to the edge of the futon, and pulled me gently with him. I was feeling beyond open and connected at this point, and was ready for the exercise in submission. After several minutes of preliminaries, I was extremely gently, almost tenderly, guided over his knee. I settled into position, knowing that this might hurt, and striving to maintain submission. My instincts were screaming, "tense up! arch your back! twist away! put your hands in the way!" However, my submission was gently reminding me to keep my hands in the small of my back, to relax, to accept, to be open to the lesson. The feel of his hand on my bottom and my legs was soothing, and then, he'd move it away. My brain would instantly go on full alert as I tried to track his hand. My body would tense, my breathing would get shallow, and this brief moment of panic would overtake me. As much anticipating as I TRIED to do, the first swat still caught me off guard. From that moment on, I had no idea when the next one would fall. They came randomly, and they were hard and heavy. They weren't fast, but they were enough to prove a challenge to remain in place. I very nearly started crying on the spot when he wrapped his arm around my waist, and began to spank hard and fast. I kicked, I yelped, I twisted, and fought to keep my hands from flinching away from the small of my back.

As I was beginning to calm down, KYOTKGUY leaned over me, and wrapped me in his arms. I was stil over his knee, and the sting was solidly setting in. He whispered in my ear, "Go to the bedroom, Keagen". I immediately moved to comply. My mindframe, by this point, was completely open. My walls were gone, I was open to being led. I was apprehensive, yet taking a complete joy in my submission. I knew that what was fixing to happen would likely be excruiatingly painful, but I knew that not only was I safe in the hands of this man at my back, but that he loved me beyond all words. The sense of trust and "guidability" was nearly surreal. I closed my eyes as I neared the edge of the bed, and I dropped to my knees, and folded my hands behind my back. The feelings bubbling through me were nearly surreal. I had no idea what was going to happen, but I was ready for it. He knew; he had his reasons; he would guide me; that's all that mattered.

I felt him enter the room before I heard or saw him. I looked over to see him come up behind me. His hands on my shoulders, my back, my ribs, my head focused me on the feelings bubbling within. His touch was soft and tender, and the contrast between the pain they gave a few minutes back struck me. He whispered into my ear, "Taking that long to answer a question that I ask tells me that you're not focused on your submission." As the awareness of my submission was brought to a height, he changed position. He was sitting on the bed, and I was on my knees in front of him. I met his eyes, and a complete sense of calm washed over me. Yes, it would hurt. Yes, I had zero control of what was about to happen. . . . but I didn't want it. I have NEVER felt as perfectly at peace and as accepting of anything as I did at that moment. He gently pulled me to my feet as he laid me over his knee. My hands remained in place throughout that process, something that I was proud of. My first instinct was to reach out and catch myself. . . . but I didn't. Nor was I allowed to fall. I was guided into position, and was held securely throughout.

Something I've always told a couple friends of mine is that if you never allow someone you love to see you fall, you don't know if they'll catch you. I'm a stickler on my position (although I'm not with KYOTKGUY, any more). I want my feet on the ground. (A battle I fought with KY, I think, twice. Yes, I was stubborn enough to think that maybe, just maybe, if I kept on, I might win. . . .) I want my hands in front of me. I want my feet crossed. I do not want to have to look at anyone. I want to tense as I will. So, the simple fact that I was able to let go of that. . . . to allow myself to be guiding into a balance-comprising position sans my hands, is something that I'm proud of. It's much like those exercises where you hafta fall back into someone's arms, with your eyes closed, and not bend your knees. . . . . in order to know that he'd catch me, I had to fall into his arms. . . .

*simply* I got a spanking. It was long, steady, firm, with brief snatches of high intensity. I squirmed, I begged, I pleaded, I wiggled, I broke position, managed to stay in position, and overall, just wanted it to STOP. I was vocally crying, and once, I very briefly cried wet tears. . . . . but the wet tears were not forthcoming. The spanking tested the edges of my submission. I never had the desire to rebel. . . . . not once did I have a "bite back" moment. . . . . I wanted to comply with what was beign asked of me so much, and while I often was able to, I often was not able to. My hands would move (and pay a high price). I'd bring my feet up (which resulted in the insides of my thighs being paddled). I'd twist away, which resulted a more complete pin. So on and so forth. . . . . bit, by bit, by bit, I was slowly able to overcome my instincts to fight the pain. Never completely, but I got better and better. . . . .

Throughout the entire session, I was fully accepting. With each position and implement change, I would cry harder, and try to refrain from pleading. I once thought that I couldn't deal, and I grabbed ahold of his hand, and pleaded with everything in me. I knew I shouldn't; I knew that I should let go; I knew that I should accept. . . . but it hurt, so much. . . . . all I wanted was for it to end. The hell-fire hard set that followed convinced me to let go. I lay loosely over his knee, sobbing.

We were nearly finished, but not quite. After wrapping up the spanking, I lay in his arms. The feelings of peaceful serenity, of elation, of joy swelled and swirled within, even as my bottom burned and stung like CRAZY. I don't always understand that. . . . . how I can feel my best (not that this is the only time I feel like that ;-)) when I'm hurting so badly. . . . .

Our time together couldn't have come at a more perfect time. I know I didn't really say much up there. . . . . but the overwhelming submissive glow, I hope, was conveyed. It was a perfect time that came AT the perfect time. . . . . there was nothing I needed more than to spend awhile with him, in his arms, and over his knee.