My First Paddling

From the beginning of my jump down the lifestyle rabbit hole, paddles were hard limits.  Nothing about those thick wood implements ever felt right.  Wood is beautiful.  As homes, furniture, accents the natural fibers sing to me.  However, physicality, my skin was not drawn to the energy.  Mentally and emotionally, what I didn't comprehend until recently was that the entire interaction of paddling felt like...TOO MUCH power exchange, too deep of submission. The surrender too…absolute.  Instinctively given the relationships I held over the years, everything in me would state definitively, "Hell the fuck no," and over the first thirteen years of kink and masochism, never once was I tempted or even curious.

Until Him.

Then that first night…well morning actually, I took from Him what no Man had ever given me.  My first kiss of a paddle (as well as many other things I never realized I needed.).  He sent me to my fucking knees with a single swat. Knees quivering I came back to my feet, my masochist humbled just as my whore had been over the previous 16 hours.  Whew...that beautiful, sexy Man left an impression.

There’s been a few swats now and then since we began, and even a light test round with that big ass boat oar of His.

Until Sunday night.

I was unprepared. 

Mentally.

Emotionally.

Physically.

I was damn near as unsexy as possible.
Goofy glasses.

Messy hair.  

Oversized bulky sweater.
Wide legged lounge pants.
My unsexiest, clean-the-house, never meant for play or erotic shorts.
🙄

None of that even occurred to me until the next morning.  I simply willingly and immediately complied when after a super chill evening, out of nowhere He casually picked up a paddle and quietly gave His order for me to move to the bed. Caught off guard, my breath caught, my heart missed beats, and my brain scrambled.

I leaned over the bed I had lovingly made that morning, trying to get my bearings and figure out what was about to happen. 

Pointless.  That first strike wasn't the usual record scratch I feel with other play partners and implements.  It dropped me to my knees.  His Pain crashed into my mind like a grenade, splintering every fuckin heavy thought that had weighed me down that day.  Nothing existed except Him and His Paddle.  The impact to deep tissue was tolerable, but the massive surface of that wood slapping across my skin burned like unending fuckin Fire.

The next strike to the other side buckled my knees again and only amplified the destruction of every thought previously tearing at my heart.  My discomfort didn’t stop Him.  Another blow landed.  Another.  Again and again I climbed back from the floor to lay on my stomach at the edge of the bed.  I whimpered.  I moaned—especially when He tormented me by slowly sliding His paddle against my cunt lips, teasing me with a hint of pleasure.  My masochist tried bravely to arch my ass up to receive, but I couldn't help the flinches and trembles.

He pulled down my pants and shorts, removing the last scrap of defense I had, and bared my pale fat ass.  I swallowed nervously, unfamiliar with how much worse His Pain would be to naked flesh.  

I didn't have to wait long for His education.

  

Instead of grenades, wood-to-skin fire bombs of Pain landed in my soul.  I couldn't dance with or process this pain.  Tears welled.  I was a mess, completely stripped of my pride.  I couldn't think.  I couldn't control how I absorbed His Pain.  I couldn't conquer or overcome It.  I broke again and again to my knees until He wrapped His hand so firmly around my neck pressing me into the bed that I couldn't move.  

Despite the overwhelming inferno burning across my ass, somehow I found profound solace and reassurance in my Owner’s unrelenting desire to hurt me, and there...when He didn't stop...when His relentless grip on my neck, in my hair, against my back, forced me to take, accept, absorb Pain's/His Demand...I surrendered.  To His Paddling.  To His Pain.  To Him.  

Maybe He understood, what I hadn't ever explained...

I needed to SUFFER for Him.

I needed His unwavering Dominance to Rip Pain from me because it is His right to do with me as He pleases.

I needed to burn down in His fire, loose myself TO Him, IN Him, FOR Him. 

I needed Him to break me and devour all of crumpled pieces of me.

I needed the comfort of His Safety and Protection in His Taking what He desired from my body without apology, His erasure of my thoughts, and His claiming of me.  

When His rock hard dick drove into me, the swing from agony to pleasure only shook me further.  I don't know if His Sadist was aware or fully comprehended His effect on me.  Even in pleasure He allowed me no control, shifting His hands to my hip, forcing their stillness.  Him filling me, stretching me, sinking so deeply into me called to my whore, but the continued strikes from His paddle left her in unable to drown in His pleasure.  I was caught between His Pleasure and Pain...His Heaven and Hell as again and again both His paddle and His dick simultaneously had their way with my body.  

None of my personalities could find their footing.  Not the masochist.  Not the whore.  Not the little girl.  They witnessed, but none could wallow and bask.  Instead He took from all of Kat...His messy prideless property, 

I accepted my fate.

I came.

I hurt.

I came.

I hurt.

I came.

Once His drained dick left my body and His paddle rested on the bed next to me, I could barely stand, dazed in a way no other Man, no other scene, no other pain, no other orgasm has ever left me.  The landscape of me dismantled. 

Our power exchange Total.  

His Dominance and Control of me Unequivocal.  

My surrender…Absolute.  

His lips pressed a kiss against the back of my neck, and He sealed His Name on my soul.  

~DominaKat