Pinned!

Sometimes, there just aren't words to describe the magic. . . . . KY came up yesterday, and, as I always do, I needed him, desperately. . . . . I was so incredibly psyched as soon as I saw him come around the corner. He was incredibly hands-on yesterday. Putting me here. Leading me here. Holding my wrists. Pinning my hands behind my back. Showing his strength. I have an absolutely insanely joyous memory from last night. . . . . . a brief moment of wrestling, and being pinned flat on my back, wrists above my head. I looked up into his eyes, and they were twinkling with a simple joy. I took pleasure in his hold, in his joy, in his strength. . . . . He looked at me.

"Whatcha gonna do about it?" With a joyful grin, I looked up into his eyes. I was perfectly relaxed within his hold as I pointed out the obvious. . . . . . . "We both know that you're stronger." The simple grin he gave me was one that I'll never forget. . . . . . "Yes, but sometimes, your mind needs to realize that, doesn't it?" Sheepishly, I responded. "Yes, Sir." He continued to pin me for a bit, and I felt completely at peace with his hold, at least, until he started aggravating me. . . . . *steadfastly announces* I'm NOT ticklish!

Later, I remember hearing his belt come off, and my stomach turning to ice as I tried to figure out how best to deal with the upcoming severity of pain. . . . . and failing miserably in the "dealing with" arena. I was (and am) exceptionally sleep deprived. . . . my ability to consciously think through things, and process emotional events, is severely limited. My only thought was getting away. . . . . . . and I used my flexibility to my advantage. (I have an ability to lay on my back, and sit my knees down, on the ground, above my shoulders, behind my ears.) I distinctly remember putting my hands on the bed, and somersaulting backwards, and coming to my knees to face him as I tried to get away. I was asked repeatedly. . . . . "What do you think you're doing, fighting me like that?????" I didn't have an answer. I couldn't process how anything else could be logical. . . . . . I couldn't handle it; I needed away. Seemed fairly simple to me. . . . . And then, I was slung across his knee. My ability to get away was nil as I was securely tucked against his torso. That's when the thought came to me. . . . . . . He's not going to take me any place he doesn't have confidence in my ability to handle. My body might not truly be able to accept the level of pain that I was being expected to submit to. . . . . . but part of it was a mental panic, too. Part of it was me trying to figure out how I could possibly handle the pain. . . . . and realizing that I didn't have to handle anything.

As the night went on, other moments stand out. Sitting in the floor, playing a game, and laughing. Listening to him hum along with a song that I've noticed he REALLY likes. His hands on me, the random hugs, the feelings of closeness. The simple joy taken in each other's company.

And then. . . . . . . . a second session. I know that academically, I've taken far worse paddlings. I know that. . . . . . but at the same point in time, I can't remember any that seem more excruciating. I can't remember any that reduced me to a sobbing, screaming mess as quickly. . . . . . or any that had me fighting for (what seemed) my life, and my freedom. . . . . . Even pinned over his knee (where I know that I'm all but helpless), I made a last-ditch effort to get away from the pain. . . . . . . I rolled and tried to throw myself in the floor, and almost made it. . . . . . and then found myself flat picked up and pinned again. I wasn't able to lessen the fight, for it was instinctual, but I was able to enhance my acceptance of it. I knew that I deserved it, and that it was a lesson that I direly needed to learn, embrace, embody. . . . . but at the same point in time, I NEVER expected that intense of pain. *soft grin* Guess it's not really my place to expect anything. . . . . . It's not that I wasn't accepting of the spankings itself, for I was. . . . . . but that I honestly didn't know if I could handle the pain. Even as my sobbing came to an end, I was still awash with the deep, throbbing, severe pain. . . . . . . and knew that I would be, more than likely, for days. The paddle that was used didn't impart much of a surface sting, but an exceptionally deep, heavy bruising that leaves residual soreness FOREVER. (Or, so it seems. . . . .) I was later pulled over his knee to wrap the session up, and I cried, and I cried, and I cried. . . . . . Like I said. . . . . .  academically, I know I've taken worse. . . . . . . but it's hard to find them right now. Grinning, he looked at me, later that night, and said, "When did you get so soft?" I gave a big grin. . . .  "When I submitted to you." Mentally, I was thinking, "When I let you in my walls. . . . . . . when I dropped my defenses."

I gave him his Christmas card last night, for I wasn't sure if I was going to get to see him again. I'd left a bag with his gift on the ottoman, and was absolutely ASTOUNDED when he didn't automatically go over and poke around. . . . . . So, I commented on this, teasing him. He looked at me like a wounded puppy. "I don't stick my nose in everything." Jessa and I busted out laughing. He's is. . . . . . rather inquisitive. *grins* The memory I have of him reading the cards, trying not to cry, is one I'll treasure.

All in all, it was an absolutely awesome night, one full of memories I'll hold close, as well as moments of rather high intensity. . . . . . balanced with the perfect measure of tenderness and love.