Brick by Brick, Part Two

For the first part of this session, check out yesterday's post, located directly below this one.

When he said that, my heart sank. Yes, I knew it was coming. . . . yes, I knew I deserved the spanking. . . . but I wasn't prepared for the pain, for the vulnerability. . . . . for the emotional connection. I was scared. Not of KYOTKGUY, at all, but of the vulnerability and loss of control.

I submit to him, and I joyfully and gladly do so. I always intend to offer my complete submission, but my expression is a bit dampered at times. Lack of submission, I've noticed, is almost always rooted in fear. My fear during this session was borne of distance and passive aggressiveness. The events of a couple weeks ago left me floundering and desperately grabbing for a handhold, and instead of giving into the pain and processing it, I became angry.


The first searing swat caught me off guard, and I yelped, and then shortly after started crying. The next two were just as hard and heavy, and I quickly dissolved into tears. I wasn't prepared for this. . . . . I wasn't ready. . . . . . . and it all hurt SO MUCH. I hadn't been spanked like this, hard, for a REALLY long time. I squirmed, I cried, and I fought to keep my hands out of the way.

Shortly after that set stopped, I got frustrated. I got frustrated with the pain. I got frustrated with the emotion. I got frustrated with ALL of it. The tears stopped, but I couldn't stop the yelping, sobbing, crying fit I was throwing. It hurt. It wasn't anywhere close to the hardest spanking I've been given. . . . . not even in the top ten. . . . . but I couldn't move past the pain.

I couldn't process it. I couldn't get around it. I sure as heck couldn't make it stop. KYOTKGUY tried several times to get me to open up; to talk to him. . . . . . and I couldn't find the words. He tried and tried and tried to get me to talk, to express my emotions. . . . . . . . and I just couldn't. I was getting frustrated over my lack of words, and frustrated with the spanking.

I remember one time jerking away from him and curling up in a ball on the floor sobbing. I couldn't calm down. . . . . . . I was so frustrated and scared of facing the emotion. He waited the fit out. . . . . . . asked me to let him know when I was ready to finish. I just cried. 

Finally, he pulled me back over his knee, leg-locked me, and started spanking again. I was FINISHED. Flat FINISHED. I was finished with the pain, finished fighting the emotions, FINISHED. I checked out. Stopped responding vocally, stopped responding physically. . . . . . just disconnected from the situation at large. He jerked me up, held me close, and talked to me. His low, intense, firm tone and the tight physical hold he hand on my head, exposing my throat and forcing me to maintain eye contact brought me fully back to the present, and fully re-connected me with him. His gruff tone and contact centered me and balanced me, and when he put me back over his knee, I was past the frustration, and able to connect with him, and the pain.

It was a fight to submit. It was a fight to work through the fear, to process the pain, to let go of the build up of anger. Finally, though, I just lay in his arms and sobbed. Towards the end, the spanking had morphed from a discipline spanking into an exercise in submission, and I was crying and yelping and sobbing, but calm, centered, and content in my place as his. I was no longer challeneging him, pushing him, unconsciously trying to see whether he would always push back. I was secure in my place, and in the knowledge that I was loved. Brick by brick, he tore my wall down. . . . . . . and while it was painful, it was a neccessary step in order for us to move past the pain and anger of the past couple of weeks. (Remember, the situation there was NOT between KYOTKGUY and myself.)

Brick by brick, he proved himself yet again. I was able to re-affirm my submission, not only to him, but also for myself. Brick by brick, I reconnected, and brick by brick, I calmed, centered, and stabilized.