Luper Subspace

Even though my Sir, Firm-Hand-Buddha had played fairly hard upon my ass and etc Friday night, by Sunday I had not a mark, which has been something Firm-Hand-Buddha has heard a great deal of whining about. I have a friend who is fairly new to the lifestyle and has that lovely skin that marks beautifully, and I am jealous!! My marks these days fade within an hour. This silly yearning for marks has led me to do all sorts of silly things, from using exfoliating cleansers on my ass to derma-abrasion... but to no avail. The skin of my ass just heals like magic these days.
The dungeon was much busier this time (in comparison to Friday). Our favorite benches were in use, and Sir decided to forgo playing with his new wand. (Yes I was disappointed dammit!! But as a spank-a-holic I prevailed and did not drag my feet at all.. .much. Sir picked out a kneeling style bench, and kindly did not use any of the eye-bolts to restrain me.
He loosened my corset, quite a bit, which is usually a sign that this is going to be long and hard-otherwise usually it is just enough for me to bend. I love my corset, just in case anyone was wondering. I could see his boots, and reached as if to untie his laces, which of course got me that playful, "Don't think about it!" (Why do those words make me so wet??)
Sir's warm up was short and sweet, leaving my backside very warm and eliciting all sorts of blush causing sounds from me. I could clearly hear the conversation of the leather folk in front of me, which, for whatever reason, added to my head space. It was Swat! Smack! "Hmmm, How about the weather here? It's so windy" Smack! Moan, Blush, writhe. "Did anyone see.." I felt as if I was of no note, not important at all. Even when the comments may have been about me or Sir (or not) it was so indirect that I felt completely objectified. Not usually my thing, really, but this time, in this moment, it was perfect.
Again I was facing the crowd (was i the only one that noted that most equipment seemed to be this way this year? Am I the only one that likes to hide their face?). With all the over-stimulation of the weekend, between classes, the market, the hundreds of kink folk everywhere...well I was not finding it difficult to sink into that lovely cocoon of safe and yummy that some call subspace.
Sir, perhaps in response to how easily I was managing his initial erm high spirited swats, stepped up his game. I swear, the moment I was able to find my rhythm, there he was smacking harder, faster or in more tender spots. My hands were not fastened and I writhed, often grabbing his leg in a desperate measure to be able to not make a spectacle of myself. I would sink into that yummy space and Sir would grin evilly (or so I imagined) and pull me up just a bit.. I would finally sink again and he would up the ante and yard me out again. I have no idea how I managed to not lift off that bench.
And so we danced.
He led the dance with his implements, working my skin and nerves to exhaustion. His hand swinging to a beat only he can hear as he led me through bucking, moaning, begging, and yes giggling. The music added an element to the dance in a very ... strong way.
He beat me and my body begged for more. He drew from me sounds, motions and emotions-I could feel myself being molded-filling with a need to just be all he demanded. In that instant I submitted in a way I had never really felt before. This was no longer about my love of spankings (etc), but this was about us. About him. About giving over myself. It was a beautiful moment.
My body followed his without my willing it. I bucked for him, I squirmed for him, I raised my hips to help him. i quivered, I sobbed, I moaned. I didn't give a flying shit if I looked ridiculous, sounded pathetic... all I cared about was the dance, his lead, the moment.
I have no idea what this was in reality, but from where I was it felt frantic, as if the speed and force were so erratic and out of control, as my hands scrambled for a way to anchor me, my hips lifted and churned... I was certainly frantic. Nothing hurt but I felt as if I had become the dance-I was the the tempo.
Then things slowed. Time fragmented as I felt ebony against my skin. i could hear my breathing, my whimpers, and every inch of my skin tingled and pulsed as he pressed that dreaded and loved paddle against my skin. My hips lifted, my body melted, relaxed.
The impact streamed red, and I begged, writhed, found my center and again lifted, and melted. And again. And again. And I had not vision of this ever ending, no concept for anything but this incredible dance. My world had become narrowed down to this sensation, the feel of my bruised flesh yeilding...
I could hear Sir talking to me, his voice wrapping around me and i became aware that I was sobbing.. Tears streamed my face. My first coherent thought was "Oh my gawd.. Am I drooling?"
As I came back into my head, Sir's hand stroking my back and face, I finally clued in to what he was saying. I don't remember the phrasing, but he had drawn blood.
With my inner voice screaming hysterically (I hate blood, no blood nooooooooooo) I calmly asked how bad it was. (points for me!). He had just smacked a welt, and it was merely a droplet. I had no idea what the dungeon protocol for this was, so we agreed he should find the DM and find out. And get a band-aid.
So there i was, DM and Sir peering at my ass while I died a thousand deaths of embarrassment, and I look up and straight into a set of friendly eyes, watching with interest. i know we spoke, but high as I still was, and as red faced as I surely was, I remember not a word, other than he was amused and I laughed as well. All while my Sir and a man I barely met are poking at my ass.
Sir wrapped me up, helped me up and half carried me to a chair. By the time he returned with a band-aid i was hyper as hell, bouncing and giddy.
Thank you Sir, for taking me to new places. For understanding how to give me what I need and never making me feel like a freak. For creating this safe, and yes damn you sacred place where I am free to be me.
Thank you to those in the crowd that unwittingly added to my scene, bwahaha. And of course, thanks to the DM.
PS. It is 8 days later and I have some lovely marks still. While I get that I can't be playing like that all the time, (sigh) this made my day!!