Warning: Epically Long Spanking Session Post :-D

Idly working on math homework, I had been waiting for the knock for quite awhile. Today was the first chance KYOTKGUY and I have had in almost two months to spend any real time together. We've had a few rushed minutes two or three times -- but that's about it. We spend hours a day talking and ensuring that we keep the channels of communication open, but the last couple of weeks, we've had some really rocky spots.

While it was directly neither of our faults, we both contributed to it. I was frustrated with him; he was frustrated with me -- and the more frustrated I became, the more waspish, short and uncommunicative I became. The more we butted heads over a variety of things (some as simple as my current location while traveling and others as complex as feeling completely ignored), the more we seemed to argue in general.

Neither one of us enjoy arguing. We do it so infrequently that when we do engage in squabbling, we both end up hurt, frustrated, angry, defensive and in a negative feedback loop of perpetual size. I'm frustrated because he's frustrated, and then he's frustrated because I'm so upset I ignore a lot of protocol, I get even more angry because he's upping the ante, he gets even more upset because I'm not accepting his decisions, I have an epic meltdown of negative emotion because, to me, IT'S SO SIMPLE . . . . . . and he's doing the same thing because, to him, IT'S SO SIMPLE.

We're not the type to allow anything to really fester -- we tend to talk through things completely and totally before laying them to rest. Very, very, very, very rarely, though, it doesn't exactly happen that way, even though both of us try really hard to do so.

As many of you know, I've been under a lot of stress lately and as many of you don't know, so has KYOTKGUY. When that's coupled with the little bit of tension between the two of us and then paired with the distance in general, the situation has a tendency to snowball.

When the knock finally came, I was super stoked. Grinning like a giddy schoolgirl? Yeah, that was me. We spent a few minutes talking and catching up on some minor stuff -- and then I presented him with his birthday present, a purpleheart wood ruler. We'd had such a ruler in the past and while I hated ours then, even I am willing to admit it is far less intense than our current OTK wooden paddle. So, armed with the knowledge that he really enjoyed Ruler in the past and the fact that his current favorite piece of wood just about killed me within a couple of swats, I decided to do something for BOTH of us and give him a bit more variety in the toy bag. :-)

He lost no time in admiring the smooth finish, deep color and general shape. Pulling me over his knee, he lit into my lower bottom over my jeans, asking me how it felt.

Now, I was surprised, honestly -- it was a lightweight ruler and I didn't expect it to sting as badly as it did . . . . but it really, really, really did. I was easily able to hold my place, though, something I'm typically unable to do under wood. The next few strokes landed across my thighs and I didn't have as much luck with those -- I not only broke position but I was yelping within the first couple. That was NOT a nice feeling.

All of that being said, I definitely don't hate Ruler by any stretch of the imagination but I have no love for it either. The lightweight, but very solid, strip of wood delivers a firm, convincing message without being excruciatingly painful and panic-inducing and for that, I'm thankful.

I quickly was relieved of my jeans and placed back over KYOTKGUY's knee. He went to town with Ruler, both across my bottom and legs -- and while I was squirmy and yelpy and very, very, very warm to the touch -- it pretty much ok, and the first time in a good year and a half I've been able to stay calm, mostly positioned and not panic when faced with wood. Now, when he started handspanking me over the stripes Ruler left, I quickly lost all decorum.

I found myself leg locked with hands pinned in the small of my back, quickly reduced to yelping cries. Ruler just stung and layered a bit -- KYOTKGUY's hand is more painful than many implements and not only packs an intense surface sting but a driving power that carries a powerful, deep wallop.

The spanking continued over his knee for quite some time, commencing with a solid, slow, thorough strapping to my bottom and very upper legs.

That ended the discipline session -- and our emotional tenor shifted from that of punishment to submission and pleasure -- and I quickly found myself with my wrists restrained, hands high above my head, flat on the wall, bottom and back exposed, perfectly positioned for anything. The first heavy thud of the flogger across my shoulders caught me off guard. Our flogger is gorgeous and I love it -- but when swung with force, it's quite painful due to the weight and length of the falls. I held my place, occasionally coming to my toes or moving my hands from where they were placed -- and I was quickly reminded to assume proper position multiple times via hard and heavy strokes to my already sore bottom. The second I was back in place, the flogging returned (mostly lightly) to my shoulders and back.

My eyes were closed and I was soaking in the weight, the intensity, the thud of the strokes to my back, my shoulders, my bottom. While I couldn't see my position, I could feel it and I adored not only the position, but the vulnerability it carried with it and the obedience and submission it required. Hands high above my head, flat against the wall, arms straight, but curving down into my shoulders at an angle. My feet were spread for balance, well away from the wall, my bottom thrust outwards for whatever awaited it.

My blood ran cold when I heard his belt slide through the loops -- and the rush of satisfaction quickly followed because I knew that nothing was more perfect at this time. The first cut of his belt across my perfectly positioned, bare, bottom brought me to my toes and the second nearly to my knees. I quickly resumed position and took in stroke after stroke. They were hard enough to challenge my will and desire to hold my place -- but not hard enough to necessitate reflexive or defensive motion and movement.

Suddenly twisted from my braced position against the wall, I found myself first bent over the edge of the bed, then picked up and placed on it. The spanking sporadically continued as I found myself idly playing with the double clips locking my restraints into place -- and then being lost in the intensity of the alternating touch, sensation play and spanking -- and found myself with restraints on my wrists -- but not locked together. I honestly had no intent to undo them -- it just happened.

The sharp command to place my right hand behind my back grabbed my attention and brought a brief moment of panic with it. I slowly twisted my hand behind my back, both carabiners dangling from the restraint tight around my wrist, and I cried out in pain and surprise with the first solid swat of the paddle. That little, OTK, hardwood paddle is the bane of my existence and nothing can reduce me to a panicked, blubbering mess quicker.

The swats kept coming . . . . and coming . . . . and coming. There would have been only two -- but I quite simply couldn't hold my place and keep my hands out of the way. I don't remember any of what was said to me, any of the commands given or much of the actual happenings -- only that after almost every swat (which was given as a repeat of the first because I moved), I would cry out and my hands would flinch back to cover my bottom. I had to be physically placed back into position several times -- until finally I was so worked into a lather that I couldn't breathe.

Far from being a hard, brutal, fast paddling -- it was simply long and culminating. Had I been able to hold my place, the first two swats would have been it -- but I kept moving, doubling up, curling up, covering, blocking, putting my feet in the way -- and it's about at this point that some of the bubbling, pent-up frustrations and general anger and tension concerning life started to surface.

I was so worked up and frustrated and dreading the next swat so badly that I found myself hyperventilating and then panicking because I couldn't breathe. I literally couldn't get enough air IN to do anything before it was forced out by the speed and intensity of my breathing -- and the more I couldn't draw a breath, the less able I was to calm. I wasn't being paddled any longer -- KYOTKGUY was trying to help me calm down . . . . . and while it took a few minutes, I was finally able to catch my breath.

I found myself hauled to my feet and taken to a corner and settled into it. I hate corners and tears welled up in my eyes immediate. I was told I could come out when I was ready to accept both swats of the paddle gracefully -- and that until then, I could just stay there. I twisted around to face him, hands-restrained in front of me, and I begged to not receive the promised swats -- and after a firm, but gentle verbal reminder of my expectations and place, I left the corner to drape across his lap.

I have an easier time with pain over his knee. I'm grounded, more connected, and less apt to panic due to the level of physical connection. When placed on my belly during a spanking, I sometimes feel like I'm just floundering amidst the strokes, spanks and pain -- and while that's not a *horrible* thing, per se -- it can make processing and accepting and dealing with the pain fair more difficult.

He wrapped his arm firmly around my waist, locked his hand under my hip and positioned me so that I was fully over his lap -- and tears welled up in my eyes again as the swats landed across my lower bottom and the sound filled the room, quickly followed by my yelps. As the pain built to a crescendo, so did my internal fight and consternation and I started squirming and twisting over his knee and quickly received a hand spanking to remember. While I was nearly in tears, they were tears of frustration, not of release or of pain -- and I just wanted it to *end.*

He informed me that throughout our time apart, I had lost track of what it meant to submit completely and that I was VERY out of practice -- and that before we were finished, I was going to not only reconnect with the meaning of my submission, but I was going to work through all of the anger, frustration and tension coursing through my body.

Now, I could either simply accept that fact now -- or he could place me back in the corner for a few minutes at simply start again from the beginning. My frustration was clear in my voice and my tension evident in my body as I earnestly (and rather disrespectfully) tried to sway his mind. The spanking immediately started again and while I was quickly vocal and crying out, I was running into a literal wall of emotion -- no matter how badly I wanted to, my level of frustration and anger were preventing my mind and my body from syncing up and going "Hey, this is all ok -- just breathe, relax, accept -- it always works out perfectly in the end.

I was again hauled to my feet and placed facing the corner. I nestled my head against the coolness of the wall, shifting from foot to foot, desperate for the intense sting to die down even just a little bit -- when I was softly called back over.

I wanted to badly to let go, to relax, to embrace the pain, my vulnerability, my submission, my joy, his pleasure, and to accept and revel in our respective places . . . . . every fiber of my body ached with longing . . . . . and while my tension was far less than it was 15 minutes earlier, I was still pretty combative, and not for any good reason. I have been fighting school, stress, life, routine, exhaustion -- and I all of a sudden just found myself fighting KYOTKGUY and the cathartic release.

We both stood up and I came to my toes, head buried in his neck, arms around his shoulders. He went to move me and I refused -- and found myself bent back over the bed in a heartbeat, crying out with every searing stroke of the strap. I had my hands back, fingers spread, covering my extremely sore bottom -- I was allowing the strokes to fall across my forearms and palms because it hurt SO MUCH less than yet another stripe landing on my bottom -- when suddenly, the next stroke caught me across the legs, causing me to double up enough to cover my thighs -- and the stroke after that landed squarely across my shoulder blades.

It was excruciatingly painful, unexpected and shocking. A second stroke followed to my legs, which I blocked, and as the next stroke fell across my shoulders for covering my legs, for the first time in my life, I moved to cover my back. Both hands were twisted up, palms up between my shoulder blades. The pain was unlike ANYTHING I've ever experienced -- and as the next stroke fell across my bottom (as was always intended), I left one hand across my back, dropped one across my bottom and suffered yet a third stripe across my shoulders. I went limp, pulled my hands away from my body and buried my head in the blanket on the bed.

The pain across my shoulders from a mere three stripes completely overrode the soreness and bruising across my lower bottom and legs -- that barely registered. Unlike strokes delivered across your bottom that peak as the stroke is delivered and then the pain levels off then falls, the pain from the stripes to my back built . . . . . and built . . . . . and built. It was excruciating from the very first second -- and it got exponentially more painful with every passing breath. I was again pulled up, snuggly wrapped in KYOTKGUY's firm, comforting hold and allowed to calm.

I thought I was finished. At this point, I had yet to fully cry and let go. I came to my feet and being given permission to get dressed -- and as I came to my feet, KYOTKGUY's hand brushed across my back and shoulders adding to the searing, nearly unbearable pain still there.  I immediately sank to my knees with the added pain, doubled over, sobbing.

It wasn't the pain itself -- I just think the culminative effects of the entire long, hard, emotional, tiring session just hit all at once -- and the weight of his hand across what was literally the most intense pain I've felt in the entire time KYOTKGUY and I have been together -- was merely the straw that broke the camels back.

KYOTKGUY pulled me up and into his body, and then placed my fully on top of him, striving for maximum, full-body contact.

I sobbed, and I sobbed and I sobbed. I sobbed because of the pain . . . . and the stress . . . . . and the intensity of the interplay . . . . . and life . . . . . . and distance . . . . . . and a million other things, I sure. It all came pouring out of my body, flowing via the path pain had laid for it. I can't remember the last time I've cried like that -- but it ended with in minutes of starting.

I think it was at that moment that we were truly beginning and able to move forward -- and that the rest of the intense session was merely a build-up to this point. It was only at THAT moment that the anger faded, along with the frustration, fear, tension and combativeness. Unfortunately, though, we were out of time -- all time. Although I was finished sobbing, I was still out of contact, spacey, and floating. I could hear KYOTKGUY talking, but I couldn't understand him. I knew he was giving commands, but I couldn't obey them. I felt fuzzy, unreal, surreal. I wasn't disconnected or distant -- merely not fully having my feet on the floor.

It took me hours before I was fully able to process the world around me and I'm still not quite there. I think a good night's sleep will help a lot  . . . . . . but I am super regretful that we didn't have the chance to explore that state of consciousness and the emotional state that we found ourselves in.

I don't yet have the ability to truly delve into and explore what happened in today's session, although I'm looking forward to doing that. Keep your eyes peeled for it -- it should be a lot more interested than the mere explanation of what happened. :-)