Shedding the Coat

A couple of weeks ago, KYOTKGUY and I had a session that . . . . . well, it didn't quite go as planned. It started out really, really, really well with a solid, firm, yet slow hand spanking that quickly brought me to the point of submission and vulnerability. Once we reach that point, sometimes we quit and sometimes we move a bit further. Very occasionally, we move a lot further.

Many times when we go further, we move past the point of submission to the point of a cathartic experience that leaves me sobbing and limp under his hand. There is nothing like the complete and unfettered trust and bond that it takes to get to that point, nothing like leaving your inhibitions, stress and anxiety behind and nothing like being bare and broken in every sense under the hand of one who loves you.

This time, though, something went awry. I was extremely open and vulnerable and prepared for an intense session and yet, as the second half started, I sunk into the pain and couldn't get out of it. I started reacting stronger and stronger, to the point of fighting and kicking and screaming. My sheer panic was misread as defiance which caused the ante to up to a whole new level of pain, one I was unable to process. It's at this point that I don't remember exactly what happened, although I know from the way I felt afterward and the marks I carried that it got rough.

I later found out that KYOTKGUY was talking to me the entire time, but I never heard him. He had thought I was ignoring his questions, which in turn led to the assumption that I was being defiant.

That session scared me. KYOTKGUY didn't scare me -- but the session did. The implement he was using, the set-up, the raw power and strength used and the sheer, unimaginable pain left an aftertaste of fear and tension I've had a hard time shaking.

Tonight was the first night we've had any real time to delve back into a session and take it slow and work through everything. We were like scared kids dancing around each other, carefully not saying *anything* but asking all the questions that needed to be asked. He was very, very, very cautious and I found myself second-guessing every question I was asked, often with the words "What if?"

It was the absolute weirdest pull of feelings -- I was ready and willing to submit, as long as _______________ didn't happen. I couldn't fill in the blank. Was it his belt? Was it a position? Was it just a sense of fear? I wasn't quite sure -- but I also didn't like the uncertainty, either from him or from me. I needed him to be strong and to lead as he always did. I needed him to expect submission and obedience and not acquiesce. I needed him to tell me what was happening, and then to have it happen.

On my part, I needed to shed the coat of uncertainty and fear. It was weighing me down and preventing things that I can't even name. For the first half of the session, I was held back by inhibition and tension. We were ready to stop, ready to call it quits. It was at that point that I knew it couldn't happen like that -- that we couldn't stop now. If we didn't move further, if we didn't soothe the anxiety and fear now, I was afraid it wouldn't ever happen. We progressed quickly and readily through a light belting to one that was set up the same as the earlier session -- laid over the arm of the couch, hands extended over head. The strokes were heavy and hard, but when I was unable to process or I needed extra time to process -- I got it, unlike last time. It took me awhile, but I was finally able to settle into place and hold position, something I royally STINK at.

I feel better -- worlds better. I can't put my finger on it, but I know that something within me is better, more relaxed, more open. I left the coat of uncertainty with the light stream of tears while laying over the arm of that couch -- and I'm definitely better for the experience.