The things that we do

It’s easy sometimes when you get caught up in something new and exciting…something that adds a breath of fresh air to your life, a smile to your face, a race of the pulse….that all you want to do is focus on that and nothing else, in particular, the mundane and the boring, and, even more so, the things in your life that are not so pleasant.

L and I have both talked before about how at times we have felt that we were on top of Shit Mountain because of certain things happening in our lives, not necessarily connected to the two of us but at the same time, very much connected.

2013 got off to a very good start, and suffice to say, we have had less turmoil in our lives the last six months than we have at any other point. All you have to do is read back on postings since January 1 to see that that has been the case. We have been caught up in our own little world…the world, as I mentioned above, that has brought with us daily rushes of endorphins.

However, those external factors that have placed us on top of the perilous summit of Shit Mountain are, in fact, still there…we have just managed to cope with them better than we have in the past, and I think being D/s is responsible for that coping more than anything else.

The last week or so it felt, at times, we were back on the summit again. Nothing new, necessarily. The same thing, the same issues, the same situation. At one point last week we both almost texted at the same time to each other how we felt so exhausted. Not the exhaustion that comes with lack of sleep, but the exhaustion that comes with trying to deal with things that are, well, just so fucking hard at times.

Thankfully, the D/s helps us cope with that stress, though sometimes the stress impacts how we well we perform in our respective roles. We both faltered at times the last week or so, with L not being as submissive as we should have been at times and I not being as Dominant as I should have been.

When things are like that, I know it is my job between the two of us to work extra hard, go into extra innings, put us into overtime, etc., to get things under control.

So that’s what I did.

Probably the most intense example I can offer up was on Tuesday night. L had been acting up beyond her natural (and permissible) personality of just being sassy and smart with me, she was acting in a way that was quite different from before. The main one being, close to downright refusal of my sexual advancements…slapping my hand away when I tried touching her, asking to just be able to go to sleep. That’s never been an issue with the two of us before, going back to before we went D/s.

I almost chose to ignore that, along with the escalated sassiness and backtalk, because damn it, I was stressed to and wasn’t sure how much I felt like dealing with it. But I knew that ignoring it would only exacerbate the situation, and I also knew that ignoring it would send the wrong signal to L and that at some level, some of that behavior was subconsciously being done to tempt me. To see how I would handle the situation. I know she would deny that was the case, blame her attitude on stress, but I think there were elements of that added in as well.

So I let it be known to her on Tuesday that she was going to be punished.

And on Tuesday night, she was.

The punishment came in the form of the cane that she normally derives much pleasure from. The punishment came in the form of making her lie face down on the bed with her ass up. The punishment came in the form of the cane coming down on her hard…three strikes, hard, no warm up. No attempt to lull her into subspace. This was not maintenance. This was not funishment. I wanted to give her something that she would not ever want again.

And it worked.

It was the second strike that did it, that came down across her upper thigh, and the effect was immediate as she flipped over on the spot, tears running down her cheeks. I made her turn back over with her ass up, and delivered the third and final one on her ass.

She tried to withdraw after that, curled up in the fetal position, her back to me. “Let me go to sleep now please,” she said, with tears coming down, and I wasn’t prepared for that reaction, nor was I prepared for how much I certainly didn’t like doing that, how much it bothered me that it made her cry, and for a split second, part of me was just going to let her sleep and I was going to go over to my side of the bed, questioning if what I had just done was the right thing to do.

But I didn’t.

Because…well, I knew better, dammit.

I held her. I soothed her. Disallowed her to withdraw. Told her her punishment was over. Explained to her why it was done, why it was as hard as it was. I continued to hold her, gently caressing her, and then one thing led to the next, and my sullen and scarred sub had her mouth on me, and I was as hard as ever, and she was as wet as ever, and from there…you know, THAT happened.

We had conversations about it the next day, talked about what happened, told her why it happened again. I did not back down from why I did it. And last night, quite late, we were back in our bed again, and the cane came back out, and this time, it was the cane that she loved. I had given her instructions that at the end of every 100 strikes, she would say “Thank you.”

The came back out and the came down. 100 times. “Thank you.” she obediently said, and then another 100, and a thank you..and another 100…and the thank yous got quieter as she drifted off into sub space, because there was no punishment tonight. Just. This.

At 1,000 I stopped and put the cane down and rubbed her ass, dipped into her seemingly always present wetness. “Please,” she said.

“Please what?” I said. “Do you want more?”

“Yes please,” she said. “Just a few more.”

That few more was 500 without a stop in between each one, without a stop after each 100. I looked over at the clock and looked back at her. There could have been 500 more. A 1,000 more.

But it was late, and the lack of sleep was one of the reasons we had stress, so it was time to move on. The collar came out. The leash came out. She was collared and leashed, something we don’t do nearly enough, and using the leash, I guided her over to my cock and she was on it, sucking, stroking, feverishly devouring it, and my desire for her…my desire to FUCK her was strong, so using the leash I guided her off of me and on to her knees, ass up, and I slid inside of her.

Her orgasm was immediate, and then she tightened up on me (those Friday orders to hourly Kegel exercises were paying off) and there was no sense in me holding back, and I came exceptionally hard inside of her with an orgasm that didn’t seem to end.

It was good.

It was what we love.

It was what we need.

It is what keeps us going, adds a breath of fresh air to our lives, puts a smile on our face, a race of the pulse.

And for the moment, makes the summit of Shit Mountain seem so far, far away.