I feel badly that it's been almost a month since I posted in here but school and work seem to get in the way ...

However, I do have a story to share with y'all.

I went to meet Sir. Everything so far had only been through the computer and webcam, or over the phone, and we felt it was time to meet in person. Both of us minding the power exchange, we felt that it would be better for me to go to him.

Some people in my life thought I was crazy to go off on a plane to meet someone that so far I had only known through the computer but thankfully I also had some friends who trust me enough to let me trust myself. I knew that it would be okay. He wouldn't be crazy. And he did promise to not cut me up into little pieces and keep me in his basement.

So I bought a ticket for the weekend and I flew out to meet him. It was great. We had some wonderful conversations about all things, from philosophy to religion to politics - and we didn't argue! Do you know how rare it is to find someone you can debate with, without it degenerating into an argument? And to find someone who is willing to talk philosophy? No one, with the exception of my Dad when he's not too tired, will ever discuss philosophy with me. They don't have the same interest as I do in metaphysical ideas, I guess. *shrug* Their loss.

And, of course, he spanked me. We agreed that he wouldn't punish me the first night, so we watched a movie ("Alexander" - so boring - do not ever bother to watch it!) and then he spanked me. It was good but I had forgotten how much they hurt. It had been so long since I had played that my pain tolerance was incredibly low. That was a little frustrating, for the both of us, but we managed. *grin*

The following day was my birthday and he took me into the mountains. Now, I live on a mountain, so it's not like they are anything new to me, but I love mountains. I could live without the water, I think, but I could never live without mountains. We spent a lovely day together - we found the coolest store that sold fossils! Like, 200 million year old fossils! I was paranoid at bumping anything over and having to pay for some priceless artifact that would be in shards on the ground but I managed to avoid doing this. There were some really awesome things that I wanted - ah, if only I had money! Well. at least now I know where they are, for the day when I can afford things like that.

I did get my punishment that night, long overdue for using my vibe when I was not supposed to. The spanking was longer and more intense, and the bastard - I mean Sir - used clothespins on my nipples, and labia, and clit. I was incredibly nervous about the one on my clit. I've been clamped on the nipples and various other places and while it hurts, I know that I can deal with it. But I had heard that some women that have a high pain tolerance everywhere else sometimes have no tolerance with clamps on their clit and I was worried that I would be one of them. As it turns out, I wasn't. It still hurt, especially coming off finally, but nothing that I couldn't stand.

I got caned a whole bunch which to be honest, felt wonderful even though it hurt like a bitch. I love the cane. There is something about a well spaced out caning that takes me off somewhere that nothing else does. It's like a different kind of subspace. The regularity of the stroke, the second before the white hot pain streaks to my mind, the struggle to breath, to absorb, to submit to the feeling, to submit to my Dom ... the timelessness between the strokes that never lasts long enough and yet in memory is too short... mmm. Like I said, I love it.

It made me cry though. Not tears - tears are a rarity while play is actually happening, although I had cried a wee bit the night before. But a particular type of crying; like sobbing but without the tears. My breathing sounds as though I should have tears streaming down my face and maybe I would have if my brain could divert any of it's functioning to produce them. It's usually too wrapped up in dealing with the pain and sending endorphins rushing through me that it doesn't have the time, or the inclination, to summon real tears.

And according to Sir, he also spanked me with every implement he had promised me - my wooden paddle (that makes every Dom drool who has ever seen it *lol*), his wooden paddle, his leather strap, his rubber paddle, his plexi paddle, his huge wooden bath brush ... there may have been more; I couldn't tell you. At that point they all felt the same. Whether that's a good thing or not, I don't know. *laughing*

Oh, and of course, he had also promised me a pussy strapping, which he was most diligent about. I was bent over with my hands on the back of the couch, legs spread. It was incredibly difficult to stay in position but other than lifting up on my toes after each stroke, I don't think I moved too much. I was trying oh so hard to be good.

All in all, a very successful spanking from both sides ... until the next day when we realized that I had nary a bruise nor a mark on my bottom. It was a little pink but that was it. I was amazed - I had gotten up that morning feeling bruised and had rushed to the mirror to admire my marks. I love marks and he loves giving them and yet ... there were none. Now, whether that was because he didn't really go that hard on me because my pain tolerance was so low and it just felt really hard to me, or whether there is something in my diet at the moment that allows for my system to heal extremely quickly, I'm not sure. We were both disappointed and I know that the next time we meet he will be trying his best to get me marked up. All I have to say to that is - yay!!