Like a bad, bad girl. I did have a piece of chocolate cake last night. I do claim the mystical benefits of chocolates cramp relieving abilities to be true and it did the trick! But I ate the tiniest sliver, just enough to get those wonderful flavinoids, caffeine and other compounds that make my body calm down a little. Of course, I owned up to my transgressions and plead my defense of cramps. GM was completely okay with it and said the night's festivities he had planned wouldn't be effected by it. This perked me up.
We spent the rest of the evening talking about our favorite topic of all time (insert a little snarky inflection here): religion. GM runs a forum of sorts where he's gained a lot of respect and he's very good about posting a possible subject and seeing what sort of responses he gets on it on whether or not to really weigh in. Religion is one thing he really wants to weigh in on. Fortunately (and unfortunately) he is an unapologetic and out atheist. Trying to help him on how he would weigh in led to an argument of sorts. Needless to say, it began to get late, the red bull GM took had worn off and he was rapidly falling asleep in the chair outside.
"Did you still want to do what you had planned?" I said after the lull from GM's eyes and head drooping forward in the chair.
"You don't want to do anything tonight, do you?" He said, sleepily but his tone completely misunderstood my inflection. He thought I was calling a "not now, too tired," type of response. He still needs to get better about that. Not automatically jumping on a moment of my dissonance to call the game off. But, he's learning still. I protested and said yes, I do.
"All you need to do is go find the Jackass Number 2 DVD." GM said to me, much more awake. A big smile painted my lips and I went into our living room to the bookcase where our DVD's reside. I think I was so excited that I didn't see it at first and I started to think, "Oh no, what if he hid it somewhere and I have to find it?" But I made sure to give myself enough of a chance to find it before I went looking elsewhere. Finally, between Coraline and A Midsummer's Nights Dream (how apropos, the tangled webs and the fantasy's that frolic in the night) sat Jackass Number 2. I pull it out and attached to the front is a post it that reads: In the linen closet. I have to admit, my heart kind of sunk at the prospect- I bet the next post it would be on the back wall under all the winter blankets, but, it wasn't. In a relatively visible spot another read, "Under the bottle of Gin" so to the freezer I find under the bottle of gin, "Under the iron." Back to the room to my nightstand I lift the iron. "In my bathroom middle drawer." When I pull the drawer open. The long wooden, and grossly over sized, spoon we had bought weeks ago laid cross ways to fit and had a note that said, "Bring this to me"
Wanting to be cute, I put the handle in my mouth and walked back outside to a waiting GM like a proud puppy who found it's toy. I don't mind giving myself a dog reference because dog's are cute. I got down on my knees and gave it to him. I could tell by the sparkle in his eye that watching me go back and forth around the house was "working".
"You didn't take as long as I thought you would." He said trying to puff down his cigarette. I offered to help him, which he let me only he brought it just out of reach of my lips so I had to strain. Once he butted it, he put the spoon back in my mouth and brought me to the bedroom. I was instructed to kneel on all fours on the bed, spoon still in my mouth, while he went to the bathroom. At this point, I was beginning to drool a bit and I tried to swallow my spit but it's kind of hard to with a big wooden stick in your mouth. Before I made a mess with my mouth on the bed, he came back and relieved the drool maker from my mouth.
Its so fuzzy now, but I can't remember exactly what was said, but I was in trouble for leaving my clothes on the floor in the bathroom when I got the first smack with the spoon. It grabbed my ass hard and bit at it like a thousand tiny mouths. Before I could barely recover from the first smack, I flinched at the second slap. I remember being asked if I was going to leave my clothes on the floor in the bathroom again, "No, sir!" I said rather earnestly. I have a love/hate relationship with the first few smacks. They send me soo close to the redzone point, but if I get past them, I'm good. I got a few more hits and I think GM could tell that my flinches weren't settling down but getting worse....the spoon was very grabby and I needed a bit more "recovery time" between each hit.
"Do you want me to stop?" He said after a final smack and a jolt followed by a whimper came out of my mouth. I lay there for a second enjoying the sharp pain as it melted into my body but it was just on the edge of too much.
"No sir.....it's just.....it's a bit too grabby." I stumble out. My ability to speak at this point was severely impaired.
"How about the hand?" GM said as he swatted me. That felt much better, almost like a cooling towel on a sunburn. As we settled down to where I lay across his lap, he began to welt me in a steady stream of smacks and pops. (I will never be able to look at those two cereals the same) For the next 15 minutes, which totalled into about 20 minutes of spanking, GM traded back and forth, when I got too relaxed he pulled my head up by my pony tail, whispering to me how I'm a good girl. I felt the cool water that only comes once I'm out of my body.
I don't know how long it had been when he stopped, but one final smack jolted me back to consciousness. I flinched from what was a very sore spot now on my ass.
"Do you want more?" GM said as he traced his fingertips along the tender flesh making it burn and tingle.
"I think I'm done, sir?" I said, knowing I could possibly take more, but this is the farthest and the longest we've gone. I needed to make sure my body would be able to function the next day.
"You were a good girl, you did really well." GM said as he pet my head and kissed my temple. As subspace floated back down into the floor, he turned the lamp on my ass.
"Baby, you need to see this." After much protesting and being super fuzzy headed, I got up to look. Not only was the familiar red glow of my skin there but....bruises. Bruises!! I almost cried at the sight of them. Not tears of sorrow, but of joy. The feeling of all the stress of my body gone, just the tender spots on my ass that represented the entirety of the most basic negative sensation I was capable of experiencing at that moment. GM put his hand on my back and gasped at all the knots gone.
"You feel like putty." Better than a day at the spa. So, in a round about, backwards to some people, nods to those who understand. My bruises healed what stress was trying to break apart. I wear them with honor:
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