I hear that’s a good movie. Never saw it, myself. Kathy Bates won the Best Actress Oscar for it. But that’s not what I’m going to talk about.
EDIT, 11/22: Aaaaaggggghhh! It’s just been brought to my attention that the name of the movie was Misery, not Mercy. Of course. I knew that. Chalk it up to being incredibly spacey last night. Sometimes, I try too hard to be clever and it backfires on me.
ST and I both had things on our minds tonight. We spent about a half-hour talking before we started to play, and I was up for a distraction and some fun.
We started out silly — actually, we were silly for a long time. I was challenging him as per usual.
“You just can’t keep your pants up, can you?”
“Not around YOU, I can’t!”
“Why? Am I that hot?”
“You’re full of hot air — does that count?”
He sent me to my bedroom to get the heart-shaped paddle. “And leave those pants down!”
“OK,” I said, leaving them down, but pulling up my panties.
“I said leave them down!”
“You said pants! Make up your mind!”
He had me OTK for a while, but then decided he liked me on my hands and knees. Figures.
I was NOT feeling the love…
Then it was time for the ottoman, where belt, strap and flogger commenced. Finally, I started to settle down. Stopped saying words and just made sounds. Got into the zone.
He gave me a long, hard flogging, interspersing the hard strikes with light, caressing slaps, keeping me wondering. It got progressively harder, and I struggled a little, but recovered each time. I wanted to go on.
I’m not sure what happened. Maybe my mind was askew tonight, because I was worried about something. Maybe it was the combination of hard AND fast. I’m not sure. But then he switched from the flogger to the heavy strap and really let me have it with that. Usually, I roll with that and am able to absorb it. Tonight, I couldn’t. My brain couldn’t process the pain fast enough and I wanted to scream to release, but of course I can’t scream here. So the pain had nowhere to go, and that inner battle started up.
Take it. I can’t. You have to. Don’t be a wuss. I can’t, I can’t. Just push through it, it’s almost over. NO.
“Mercy!” I cried. And of course, he stopped immediately.
I hate safe words. I hate using safe words. If I’m in a scene with a brute/jerk/Uber-Dom, then I refuse to use one, because my pride won’t allow him to see that he broke me. And if I’m playing with someone I care about, I don’t want to hurt his feelings or make him worry that he did something wrong. Either way, I feel like an ass if I mercy out.
But this was ST. I had nothing to prove to him. We were way beyond this kind of nonsense. So I said it.
He soothed me with lotion, rubbed my back, stroked my hair. He asked if I was OK, a couple of times. I assured him I was. He asked what had happened — was it the pain? Was it too intense? I said I didn’t know for certain. I just knew I’d gone as far as I could go, this time.
I apologized to him. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he said. I felt like I needed to, anyway. I wanted him to know for sure that it was me, not something he did wrong. I would never, ever want him to think he did anything bad to me.
Silly, stubborn pride. Erica must maintain her bionic reputation! Oh, bull.
After I calmed down, I felt fine. Relaxed. Sleepy, almost. My mind was quiet for the first time today. And if it was possible, I felt even closer to him than before. Because I was able to say mercy to him, when I can’t say it to anyone else.
“There is no such thing as a bad scene with you,” I told him. I meant it.
Please hold good thoughts. ST is bringing his dog in for a bit of surgery tomorrow. I know this time tomorrow night, he’ll feel very relieved and glad it’s done. So best wishes for his beautiful boy.
Hmmmm… I do believe he accidentally took my heart paddle with him. Don’t tell him I said so, but I hope he brings it back. 🙂