I didn't plan on writing this to begin with-but then I realized I had several jumbled up emotions that I wanted to make sense of; and as writing is always my way of doing that: here we are.
Anyway, over the past few days I have been a little inconsistent with some things that I really can not afford to be inconsistent with. I could use the excuse of "But it's the holidays" or "I wasn't feeling too well due to suffering with migraines a lot recently" or "I wasn't feeling good emotionally due to extenuating circumstances," or even simply, "I forgot."
But I know none of those are an excuse-it doesn't matter it's the holidays-some of the things I need to be consistent with, are needed all.of.the.time. Three hundred and sixty five days of the year. No excuses. One of those things, had I indeed been consistent; would most likely have rectified the migraines and the emotional downfall. I can't afford to forget. Not now, not ever. Not even for a day.
So I kind of went a little AWOL looking after my health recently, because of some of these things. Only now I had a problem. It -wasn't- a problem, when I lived alone. Because I wasn't held accountable to anything, and if I forgot it was a case of "oh well." It is a problem, however, when you live with your partner...who also happens to be your Dominant.
Oh boy, yes it is indeed a problem then.
How could I think he wouldn't have noticed? Bad Frosty! Of course he noticed. He noticed everything, as he always does. Only I wasn't aware of this because he didn't mention anything to me immediately, in fact he didn't mention anything at all until last night, four days after my first ...mishap.
And he mentioned it when I was least expecting it. Did I mention I hate lectures? I think I have...a few thousand times. And after his first sentence, I knew what was coming. I knew I didn't want it, yet there was no way to stop it!
I tried burying my head under him...perhaps I could muffle the sound? Nope, didn't work, he just moved position. I tried burying my head under my pillow. He just moved it away. I tried burying my head under the bedcovers. Can't see you; can't hear you! Na na na.
Nah, that didn't work either. Claustrophobia had me pop my head back out within seconds. Huge sigh. Irritated shuffling on the bed. Eyes closed. I wasn't avoiding it, he would make sure of that. Might as well get it over with.
He phrased each word carefully, checked several times to see if I was still listening to him and repeated the fact he was doing this for my own benefit. I knew this already, it didn't mean I wanted to hear it! But his words were getting to me, slowly tearing down my emotional defences. We both knew it. And it wasn't the things he pointed out I needed to be doing better with, but the way he stated his happiness comes from my happiness...and for this to happen, I need to trust him to guide me, and to follow his example. I needed to start taking better care of myself, I needed to start caring and loving myself the way he does.
Why does he have such a way with words? He is possibly the only person who can climb underneath my outer shell and reach me emotionally where no one else can.
By the time the lecture was finished, I was laying with my head on his chest, nodding yes or no to his questions. I didn't want to talk-I was too subdued. I was thinking of the fact he tries so hard to care for me and show me love and support in each and every way, and how the one thing he really wants for me is the thing I find the most difficult-to love myself. I was thinking of the things I had become lax on, things that I can't afford to mess around with and how many times in the past he's mentioned one or two of those specific things. I felt...emotional, and disappointed. Disappointed in myself for not caring for myself better, and disappointed in myself for disappointing him.
I felt like crying-but I knew I wouldn't. I don't do crying. Crying is for the weak after all, right? At least, I've always been taught to believe that. But recently my thoughts upon this have started to change. I've started to become more accustomed to dealing with negative emotions in a healthy way instead of a self destructive way. It's hard and it's a work in progress, but I'm slowly getting there; and I know he is proud of me because of that.
All of this was going through my mind so quickly that I could barely keep up with my own thoughts, I just knew one thing: I wanted....no, I needed, to be forgiven. Why did this specific lecture touch me so much more deeply than previous ones? I don't know. Maybe it's because of this very reason: becoming more in touch with my emotions. But I knew I needed that forgiveness.
So in a small voice, I asked to be flogged. Without him holding back...he has never brought me to tears via any punishment because he is well aware of my thoughts on crying being for the weak. He knew by doing so, it could potentially affect me negatively emotionally given my past and so he stayed well away from it.
But this time? This time I needed it. And I needed it to be him who brought me there.
And so the flogging started...softly at first and then becoming harder with each stoke. It hurt, but not to the point the pain lasted more than a second or two. But he kept at it, and started switching between the flogger and the riding crop.
In the last ten years I can count on two fingers the people who have seen me cry, and one time was in labour. Other than those two people, nobody else had seen me cry, and until last night I was sure nobody ever would. But as he continued, I knew I needed this; I needed to let go, I needed to bring down my emotional walls and truly trust him one hundred percent. I had to stop being so afraid of being seen as 'weak.'
The flogging continued and there was a long time I was fighting back the tears-I wanted it yet I was instinctively trying my hardest to resist it when I felt it happening. Sometimes, I don't even understand myself. The flogging that a friend saw on cam was nothing compared to this, that was like a slap on the wrist. She even pointed out at one point during that flogging "She's not a screamer, is she?" as I remained so quiet throughout it. And I remained quiet this time. Previously during canings or paddling's I have instinctively moved away, I've insisted I've learned my lesson, that I don't need to be punished any further, that I will be good. I've stalled by trying to make conversation when ordered to get back in position. If that didn't work I'd make a dumb joke or sarcastic comment to make him laugh and try and distract him. This time though, I was completely silent. I didn't move an inch. It must have continued for well over thirty minutes, each hit harder than the last, each stroke of the flogger bringing a fresh bout of pain and each swing of the crop having me clench my teeth in anticipation as I heard the whooshing sound as it neared my back or ass.
And finally, the tears came. I let go. I let down my walls, and I surrendered completely. I surrendered to the punishment, I surrendered to the pain, I surrendered to the fact that although it hurt right now, although I may not have wanted it, I needed it. I didn't just surrender my body, but I surrendered every part of myself-my body, my heart and soul-I surrendered completely to him.
And it felt...unbelievable. It felt refreshing...it calmed me in a way I didn't know was possible. And the flogging continued long after the first tears truly started...it continued for a very long time after they fell, and throughout the remainder of them. And every so often he would gently rub my back and whisper to me how proud he was, how good I was being...but I couldn't respond, I was too far gone emotionally; although each time he did so it succeeded in making me smile through my tears. He would tell me "You think tears are for the weak but can you really see any of your friends or family sustaining the amount of pain you're receiving right now?" "Do you really think you're weak? Look at what you're going through. You're not weak, you're strong. You're the strongest person that I know."
And when he finally stopped and placed the crop and flogger down, he asked me to move closer to him and I silently rolled over to him and curled my body under his, still quiet, still contemplating.
He must have known I needed that silence to make sense of my thoughts because for a long time neither of us spoke. We just lay there...together. Content. And I felt...rejuvenated. Refreshed. Open emotionally like never before. Forgiven.
Strong.
