Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Lost and found?

After the pussy spreader and chopstick episode on Saturday evening... Sir moved me immediately to the cross. My head was spinning... i was still back there on that table with the world inspecting my private bits and pieces... Nevermind that my pussy had just become accustomed to the stretch and the bite........... and Sir just whipped them off leaving me fighting to catch up.. fighting to move onwards and upwards...

clamped to the cross.. spread eagle... almost shivering with nerves or the cold i couldn't quite decide... i soon discovered i didn't much like the cross.. it was a new one i am sure.. and had a cross bar that cut directly across my diaphragm.... whenever there was a specifically heavy hit my diaphragm would be pushed violently into this wooden cross bar ..making me feel like i was gonna puke... (like performing the Heimlich maneuver on one's self) never mind the fact the damn thing was pushing into what i think is my gall bladder - which had been acting up for the past week..... my mind was still processing the feelings of being a "nothing" of being a "thing" ... and so i had no voice.... my wrists were too high and without the proper suspension cuffs were tingling almost immediately... it just didn't feel fun

Sir used the tawse with great abandon.. and the cane.. the dreaded hated cane.. and the broad wooden paddle. No rhyme or reason... just hit .. and hit hard. Send the subbie's body banging into the wooden cross.. unforgiving .. hard..i missed the 1 2 3 4 count for the paddle.. i missed the ability to catch my breath.. i missed the boat.. completely.

And then it was over.. and i was down ..and snuggled up on the sofa with Sir... i know Sir snuggled up with me.. but somehow it wasn't enough... i was struggling to find my way.. in my head.. to where i belonged.. to firm ground.. to something i understood and could process.

Later i packed us up and we made our way out to the car... the dreaded hated cane never does fit perfectly into the bag.. and as i squished through the door, the cane caught the side of the frame and banged... i stopped to make sure it hadn't broken.. good sub i am !! Then loaded everything in the trunk and just wanted to be back in the hotel... snuggled under blankets and blankets... warm and sleepy ...

BUT it didn't happen that way... When i finally got the bag to the room.. the cane was gone........ G O N E .............. my world now skidded to an immediate stop.. Sir's cane.. His beloved cane was gone. and it was all my fault.. it had to be don't you see.. as i was the one responsible for the toys.. muddled brain or no muddled brain... my responsibility.

Sir retraced our steps out to the car... checked in the trunk.. no cane.

Sir tried calling the club.. tried calling the hostess.. the owner.. all to no avail. Finally sleep called His name and Sir slept... i lay staring into the darkness trying to screw my head back on straight.... it was at an awful angle you see.

In the morning........ after breakfast.. before we hit the highway.. we drove back to the club...... just in case.. maybe...

And there it lay .. small and lost.. a bit forlorn .. in the rain.. in the dirt... but alive and well.. and more than ready to whip my ass another day...........


  1. Poor thing left out all night alone I hope it got a nice steaming afterwards.

  2. Oh well we all have a cross to bear!


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