WARNING: This is a BDSM story (I know it's mild, and not in full BDSM style or end, and that it defeats the purpose of what BDSM does or stands for, so eat it if you care to, and spit it out if you don't. I don't give a hoot... it's my blog so, meh!). If you are offended by sexual content or BDSM-related topics please leave this page now.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Have been reading up on BDSM lately for some research into the human psyche concerning sexual and social dominance and decided to write a random blog. I figured this one needed a twist, based on my own experiences of going from lower energy to higher energy in my life. Sometimes we need a mix of both for balance. Sometimes the old habits are more easily replaced with the less-forced path, if only we do nothing more than allow it. Sometimes (most times) it is just that simple.
Michaela didn't like being corrected... in fact, it downright embarrassed her and made her feel stupid; so what was this strange impulse within her that she was turned on when scorned by her lover?
The words he used were incredibly important... but,
It wasn't just his words, it was his tone.
It wasn't just his tone, but his overruling energy.
It wasn't just that, but his authority.
It was his power.
It was his power over her.
It was the pain of loss... loss of ego.
The sting of being brought into line.
The breaking down of mental walls.
The verbal spanking...
Followed by the smack on the rump for good measure. Perhaps more than several smacks, on occasion.
It was the trust she had in him to love her, despite the pain.
It was the ability to properly deliver the pain, in just the right way, at just the right time, at just the right level. Only someone like Roderick would know those sensitive details. He had studied her, and tested her, and brought her to this point carefully, and slowly.
Roderick's deliverance of his punishment was sublime. His attitude reflected that of his position over his minion... but she was no true minion, for he realized she reflected the beauty he saw in the world, like a small soft feather gently floating in the breeze, or a sweet-smelling blue flower, which is rare and outshines any orchid.
Her submission to him was divine, breaking all the rules of everyday women, who were as common as housewives were to to military men. Nothing more sacred or precious existed except when she listened to him, and let him lead without question. He liked being trusted, and adored by her. He liked the authority she allowed him to take, while she laid back and accepted his rule.
Very rarely anymore did she abuse her position, get defensive and rebellious, or become argumentative and bratty, or to try to top him from the bottom she had dedicated herself to. She normally lived in her head, and so she drew into her body, awakening the root chakra of her soul, and chose to radiate out from the seat of her being. Her place was one of service, but not today... she had lived outside of her principles and offended him by her behavior.
He looked at her naked body, empty of all things manmade, including the earrings she normally wore. She went from a curled up position into one of sitting up next to him, as he approached her.
Her eyes were wide and attending. She knew she was still in trouble even though he was smiling. She wondered what he was up to?
Roderick loved Michaela, so much that he had fancied to training her to his standards. Even his spiritual outlook could be carried by the likes of Michaela, so multi-faceted was she. But today he was sexually hungry for her... and he wanted to take charge over her insolence, for she had been bad.
Something came over him... the sheer beauty of her soul, resplendent before his mere presence! But he was not going to miss a lick... this was going to make it all so much sweeter! He sat down next to her.
"Bend over." Calm and bluntly, he put it, raising his arm into the air, and flattening out his hand to strike her bare bottom.
Michaela whinced when she saw him raise his hand. She knew he meant to lean over his lap. Her breathing shallowed, and drew in and out at a quickened pace. She waited, expectantly, knowing the slap to her bare arse was coming by his still-raised hand.
But it didn't.
Roderick just let her think it was coming. He let her breathe fast and expect the punishment. Then he put his hand slowly down and caressed her round bare buttocks.
"I'm not going to spank you," he said calmly and lovingly. "You are forgiven."
"I am?" she blinked, confused by the change.
"You are." Roderick was serious, and had a gentleness in his eyes. Even his smile seemed to radiate a genuine caring for her.
She thought he was being weak, but for some reason his grace towards her touched her deeply. She raised up, crawled into his arms and began to weep, but not just for the loss of the spankings she felt she deserved to receive, but because some part of her soul felt at peace. The peace felt smooth and soft, like a bear skin rug that glides across her nude skin. She realized that feeling was mimicked by his hand... despite her curling up into him, his hand found her buttock again and was rubbing it with a sense of nurturing.
Michaela suddenly had a desperate feeling like something was wrong. Why was he being so loving to her? She felt that things had been going too well lately, which is why she decided to create a disturbance... well, at least subconsciously. She felt things were just too "good" and that it surely couldn't last. Perhaps she had given it some help so she could feel the excitement of the moment, and the reality of what life *really* FEELS like, full of issues and conflict, the kind that creates an emotional rush, and warm freshly-reddened butt cheeks so that she knows she's alive. The alternate perception took her to new emotional heights in what she felt was true reality. Why was he denying her this atonement?
She didn't feel that she deserved to be treated well, or with any respect. Her actions had not called for it, and her words had been lies. She ached for physical pain that could meet up and surpass the inner turmoil she felt, to alleviate it. Yet Michaela was only finding that the goodness of Roderick's actions, rather than the authoritarian figure she needed right then, was too much.
She didn't understand her pain, and why she was wanting to be corrected so badly. She wanted corrective pain. She suddenly realized that she was creating her--inner--pain regardless of what was happening on the outside. Was she addicted to conflict? Was her self-esteem so poor? Why did she find pleasure in pain, and being corrected in ways that eased her soul but were taboo to the rest of society?
Roderick sensed she was unhappy. He positioned her to slightly to the side and slapped her bottom with one solid smack that stung even his hand.
She looked up at him in wonderment.
"Michaela Andrea, you will accept my choice to love you and forgive you... or else the punishment is going to be so bad that you will regret it for the next 5 weeks!"
Michaela's heart jumped for a moment, and she softened and fell back into his chest and arms.
She then felt at ease; happy and content.
Roderick knew exactly what Michaela had needed. He always did, and he wasn't about to let her forget it. He knew she would obey him this time.