Dear Body, You are the worst roommate ever. Love, The Brain

I arrive and kneel at his door, knock, and sit back on my heels to patiently await his arrival. The thought of neighbours walking through the hallway through the hallway and seeing me doesn't phase me - my head is held high - I'm proud to be there on my knees for him.

The door opens and LD is smiling above me. He takes my purse and the toy bag and leaves me briefly in the hallway, returning to give me permission to enter. As I crawl through the entryway, I think "hrmm.. note to self, do not undo scarf prior to entering, lest you choke yourself again" ... Is there any graceful way to crawl while wearing winter gear? I suppose I shall learn.

LD takes my coat and scarf and allows me to stand. He leads me further in to the room, telling me how pretty I look. Despite my best efforts he obviously sees my internal eye roll and comments on it. I reply that it is not the compliment that I have troubles with "I'm pretty without makeup" ... we briefly discuss my blog post and my thoughts and feelings on this.

I remove my shirt and bra for him, and return to position so that we can continue talking. As we discuss everything from the inconsequential ("how was your tattoo consultation?" "Have you eaten?" "How was your day?") to the serious ("I am going to hurt you tonight" "If you are good tonight, I will allow you to see my cock"), LD begins to play with my breasts. Slapping them, pinching the nipples, making me gasp ever so slightly. It will be a while until he is able to play with them again, what with the piercings coming up on Saturday. At this point, it is here that I hit my paradox for the evening... something I'm still thinking through.

I am a Switch. There is a LOT of Dominant in me, and I've been basically nothing but Dominant for the last 7 years. When I am submitting, I reign in those tendencies... I suppose to a certain extent, I use my Dominant side to Dominate itself in to keeping quiet. That said, when I am with LD it's not like there are any Dominant tendencies rearing their head anyways... LD commented again on the 'fire' in my eyes, and how he quite enjoyed it, and would enjoy stripping me of all of my control, until I had none left and was completely under HIS control. If I let go of the control that is keeping my Domme side in check, I only foresee blood and tears on my part... how can I lose control, thereby wanting to TAKE control, and still be under HIS control? I suspect that the war between Domme!Rubenesque and sub!rubenesque will be a challenging ongoing one... this is something that I will have to think on deeply and most likely deserves its very own blog post at some point.

We move on to discussing terms of endearment, and what he shall call me... by the end of the evening there were still no decisions made. Things move forward - I am told to remove my skirt. At this point things because beautifully hazy, so forgive me for the lack of flowery prose (I'm sure you're all waiting for the summary at the bottom anyways).

Nipple clamps go on, I'm bent over the chair, spanked, slapped, punched, flogged. The soundproofing must be amazing! or he has no neighbours sharing a wall. Gag goes in, I nearly topple over trying to demonstrate stomping my feet in high heels as my 'safeword' I'm a beautiful mess... sweaty, breathing heavily, hair messed up and in my face, eyes pleading. I'm bent over the chair again and the flogging begins in earnest. One or two brief moments where I feel I might be on the verge of tears, but he pulls back. Saving that treat for another time?

Tied to the chair, I make the first mistake that is still haunting me... I forget to call him Sir. I sincerely hope that he could see the anguish in my eyes as he beat me for my transgression. I'm close to hyperventilating and inhale when I should have swallowed, and start to cough and choke. I barely even remember him dropping everything and undoing the gag... it just seemed like one moment I couldn't breathe and the next I was gasping and coughing. A few minutes of coughing and some water and I'm feeling better, though apparently hadn't learned me lesson. I forget to call him Sir a second time.

It is at this point that I came my closest to shedding tears - not because of the pain of the beating I received, but from the disappointment - both his and mine for my failure. I am promised to be whipped until I bleed the next time I break this rule... this is also something that's been on my mind, in that blood is a hard limit unless I am fluid bonded with a person. I trust that he would never break my hard limits, but most certainly do not want to find out what an alternate punishment would be should I slip up.

I honestly don't remember too much more of the evening until he untied me. I obviously was not allowed to see or touch his cock directly - I did not earn the privilege and do not deserve to. Wrapped up in a blanket, we briefly discussed the scene and other mundane things such as the logistics of seeing each other. My endorphin high is tainted by my failure, sobering me far quicker than I'd have liked. As I'm getting dressed, he comments that I look very Dominant in my outfit. I reply that I look Dominant in most of my clothing - the key to feeling sexy/attractive is confidence, and appearing confident includes looking in control and powerful. Most of my business clothing achieves this effect. His reply was something along the lines of "we'll fix that". When I told my coworker earlier in the day that LD was interested in having more control over my wardrobe, she mused as to whether this meant I'd become more or less stylish.

We leave and he walks me down to my car... gives me permission for 5 orgasms... It had been almost 4 days since my previous orgasm, and throughout the evening I was wet and horny... However once I got home, I could only manage one - I was too distracted by my failure to get in to the mood... how shitty is that?! 4 days without an orgasm, I'm finally allowed to have some, and I'm too preoccupied beating myself up (when he's already beaten me plenty) to enjoy myself.

TL;DR

I was beaten, I fucked up, I was beaten some more. A good time as had by all.

Dear Readers, this is where things get weird... I look at my body and wonder what the hell is going on. To summarize:

I was slapped across the face to the point of seeing stars and ringing ears

I was flogged, slapped, and punched across my back, flank, ass, thighs and anywhere else he could reach

My tits were slapped, pinched and had clamps on them.

Would anyone like to guess where I've bruised?

My knees. From crawling in and out of the apartment.

Face - not a mark

Body - very faint remnants of a couple of the worst welts, otherwise not even any tenderness or pain

Tits - a couple of small bruises on the undersides, nipples are still plenty tender

Seriously though Body - what the hell is going on here... WHAT. THE. FUCK?! I spent less than a minute on my knees in total, part of that on the carpeting in the hallway outside. I don't understand the process that is causing me to bruise there so easily, when I'm barely (if at all) marking anywhere else. Does anyone else have this problem?

Also, as an aside for those of you who heard about the penis gag - the milk didn't work after all, just delayed the reaction... about 2 minutes in the firecock gag (now its new name) started to burn. The gag definitely needs another round of milk, Sir.