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just a little something I wrote a few months ago...purely fiction of course :-)
The wait is killing me. I keep re-reading his words repeatedly; willing this agony to end.
"You are getting a spanking."
The corners of my mouth begin to tremble. I work hard to keep it still. I can feel the dimples form as my mouth curves into a grin.
Yes! Oh, how I want this. Excitement and nervousness rush through my veins; my imagination dashing to keep up.
The sharp slap expertly delivered on my cheeks, the unforgettable sound of flesh being sensitized. I can feel the heat spread warm at first; soothing, comforting . . . like a cadence. You need this. This. Is. Good. For. You.
I imagine it's the same with an alcoholic. And then the moment happens; the change. I become Comfort's bitch. My flesh pliable, hypersensitive to the touch, and the pain sets in.
I'm squirming in my seat now envisioning the pain. My muscles clench in memory, as an ache creeps in. My body's preservation instinct kicks in as my knees buckle. Where the hell were you when I needed you to stop me from showing off how smart I can be!? The need to avoid the pain . . . interjections begin.
Shall we dance? I twist my hips. He anticipates. Bulls eye! I try to hide his target with my hand. It is taken from me; now I'm powerless, at his mercy, exposed, vulnerable. He has made me vulnerable. He succeeds to breakdown what I'm terrified to do alone. I can't bring it on myself. Maybe it's fear? Maybe it's pride? Maybe I just don't know how. So he does it for me.
Resist. Oh, the more I resist, the more he persists because you need this. This. Is. Good. For. You.
Panic and fear.
I can feel the pressure building inside, as my strength wanes. I fight harder. Because my body is powerless, I have one weapon left; my voice.
I try begging. Nothing. Screaming. Fail. Promises are made. Does not compute. My vulnerable position drains my pride.
Denial. Frustration. Anger. Defeat. Negotiations...finally acceptance.
Sweet mercy, they fall-my tears. Control has gone. I cry. Hot, wet, therapeutic tears cascade, cleansing the inner turmoil. Relief rushes over me. Ropes of tense frustration uncoils within my heart. Uncontrolled sobs are released while he ceases. A job well done, on to the next. A tower of solace offered. A fortress of true comfort where pride, anger, frustration and willful stupidity surrenders to the peace of his arms. Body, soul, heart and mind reset. Hello, me.
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