Monday night, my Sir and I had a relaxing evening out – beer, nachos, conversation. It was much needed, as we both have had a whole lot of stress in our lives over the last couple of months. Because of it, time together has been more limited than usual, and we both just really needed to unwind. So our casual evening was perfect.
Finally, though, it was time to go. We walked out to the parking lot and stood by my car. As he was about to say good night, I found myself blurting out, “Please, Sir, may I ask a favor?” He said yes, so I asked, “Please, may I have a spanking before we go?” and gave him my best puppy dog eyes.
The parking lot we were in is one that he and I have played in before. And as I had told him earlier in the night, I had actually discovered recently that it has an even more discreet corner with some good privacy.
He grinned indulgently at me and said, “Alright. Where is this other part of the parking lot you like?” I pointed it out to him, and we each got in our cars and drove over to it.
It was fairly chilly Mon night, and we were both cold from almost the moment we stepped out of our cars, so I knew it wouldn’t last long. I immediately assumed the position on the side of my car, and he told me to raise my dress.
From the very first spank, I was yelping a bit. In my defense: 1) it’s been awhile since I’ve had a good beating, and 2) my Sir is not a proponent of warm ups. Hmph.
In any case, I was apparently not yelping enough for his pleasure. He told me to hold still, and he walked away to the back of his car. At first, I thought he was just trying to make it look like we weren’t doing what we were doing, because there was a car in the distance. But when I saw him pop his trunk, a sense of ominous foreboding descended upon me. Did he have a cane or something hidden away in there?
As it turns out, he did not. But a lack of purposely-designed tools of torture has never stopped a creative sadist. My stomach dropped as he emerged from behind his car with…
A snow brush.
“Oh my fucking god. Are you kidding me?” I asked, as my eyes bugged out of my head.
He may have answered, I can’t recall – but I know for sure that he laughed. And then told me to raise my dress again.
The next few minutes are a blur of pain. I’m certain there was more yelping and a LOT more swearing. I’m also certain that I completely forgot to be cold. And more than anything, I’m certain that I was incredibly floaty by the time it was done.
When he finally sent me on my way, I couldn’t erase the grin from my face. I spent the rest of the night smiling and wiggling in my seat to find the ouchy spots. I couldn’t possibly have been happier.
But as I have reflected further on our scene the next day, I realized that it wasn’t just the fun of the play and the endorphin high that made me happy. In the immediate aftermath, I had joked about “be careful what you wish for,” but I’m coming to realize that the fact that I didn’t get exactly what I wished for is actually a big part of what made it not just fun for me, but actually fulfilling.
See, here’s the thing: I know he’s in charge. Always. I never for a moment forget that. And I try hard to surrender and to wait for direction from him rather than asking for things. But sometimes, like Mon night, I just can’t help myself. And when I do, there are one of two ways it can go.
One: He can say no. And as I’ve written about before, I kind of love when he tells me no. Denial itself, not just orgasm denial, is a big fetish for me.
Two: He can say yes, like he did on Mon.
Only, it really wasn’t that simple, was it? I asked. He said yes. Those are the basic facts. But did I get exactly what I asked for? Nope. It never even occurred to me that there would be anything more than a hand involved when I asked for that spanking.
And…I kind of love that, too. I love the fact that even when I get what I ask for, I virtually never get exactly what I ask for.
Why do I love that? I’ve thought a lot about that since then, and I’ve come to a conclusion. I love that because it’s a reminder from him of something fundamentally important to our relationship. What it says to me is:
Your needs and wants matter. But it is always my choice if and when and how they will be met. Because I am always the one in control.
A control I gratefully, eagerly, and joyously cede to him.
Even when it means being beaten by a snow brush.
The Leather Mermaid 