What a load of crop

Load of crop — see what I did there?

These damn pictures never, ever do the redness justice. Oh well.

Today was way overdue. Today was about reconnecting, about reawakening flesh and feelings that had been dulled with sadness. Today, I wanted to feel biting sting.

And what better for that than the riding crop?

After a long, very intense hand spanking, we commenced to the crop. He had selected a couple of other implements as well, but we both quickly came to realize that the crop was IT today. 

Once he got his rhythm, he was giving me hard slap-slap-slap flurries on one cheek at a time. He thoroughly covered the right cheek… then paused. I couldn’t help myself — I blurted, “MORE!!”

“Hey,” he said teasingly, giving me one little snap, “who’s in charge here?”

“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaase?” I wheedled. He was kind and gave the left cheek the same treatment.

(I just realized how utterly perverse that is, saying that his beating each cheek equally was “kind.”)

It’s been such a crappy few weeks, but I think (I hope?) things are swinging back the other way just a little. For one thing, John’s custom-made oral appliance for the sleep apnea, the one he finally got last Friday? IT WORKS! He can sleep. He can breathe while he sleeps. He doesn’t snore, snort or gasp. And for the first time in I can’t remember how long, we slept in the same bed last weekend.

So this is very, very good. And… unless they reschedule, his heart surgery will be happening on March 24. Two months from now, which will go by in — pardon me — a heartbeat. S**t’s gettin’ real, as the kids say.

I wept in Steve’s arms today, long before we started anything. I needed to. But before we were through, my smile had come back. I’d lost it for a while.

Yes, I have post-play hair. 🙂 So no, this is not my official “after picture.” But I will take some soon.

I was feeling so godawful depressed, I even deactivated my FetLife profile this week. Didn’t delete, just put it on hold. It’s a weird thing, but when I was on there lately, surrounded by kinksters and with nearly 1200 “friends,” I felt so alone. So I thought it was time for a break. I’ll probably go back soon, but I don’t miss the drama and trauma. And I certainly don’t miss hearing about parties I can’t attend. (sigh) John says someday, after he’s recovered, he gets some expenses paid off and has gotten a couple more raises, we’ll travel more, fly to those elusive parties that always seem to be anywhere but here. But for now… at least I got my itch scratched today. Or cropped, as the case may be.

It’s gym time.

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