Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Still floating

It's 27 hours later and I still haven't come down.

Maybe that comes from exhaustion. I didn't have enough recovery time yesterday. There had been a tremendous (for me) assault on my body and all I got to do after sending my tormentor my initial report on the experience and writing my post was (I think) doze a little. It may not even have been sleep. It may just have been a brief journey into the far reaches of subspace. Then it was up for a shower and cat-feeding and a quick supper and into the car to run downtown for evening services, hoping no one noticed the assorted red marks on my neck.

Exhaustion. I haven't been getting to bed early enough. No one has taken that responsibility over from the philosopher. My demon muse controls me in different ways. It's my responsibility to keep myself in fit shape to serve him. But I lose myself in writing for him - all those pieces this blog will never see because they belong to him.

I'm in a lot of post-caning pain. Well, a lot for me, anyway, I'm sure many of you have been beaten way worse than I was, and have suffered more and longer. But it's a lot for me, and worse than I've ever experienced, and pain drains me. It hurts to sit down, it hurts to stand up, it hurts to change position, to roll over in bed, to walk. It hurts just to sit, there is this dull ache deep in the muscles of my buttocks, the pain feels like it is camping just inside my anus and is poring over a map of the entire region as it plans to overrun my entire body.

The pain is ever-present. As are the smiles. My inner smiles planted their national flag throughout my body much faster than the pain did. And then there were the outer smiles, and sense of delight, and aura of peace, radiating all around me for anyone to see. Not that my friends could pin down what they were picking up from me. They just talked about how beautiful my hair looks.

I don't wear a collar. I am not a slave. I am a poet, I am a pet, I am a private court jester except that it is all very serious. The court poet. I serve at his Majesty's pleasure, I serve FOR his pleasure, and I ensure his pleasure.

I don't wear a collar. There is no chain around my ankle. But I know I am owned. I know it deep inside me. And these days, I have this pain in my ass to make sure I never forget it.

Thank you, Sir.

3 comments:

Elspeth said...

Arnica gel. Lots. And ibuprofen. And make sure you get enough sleep.

I know, you didn't ask for advice *smile* Hope you don't mind: health comes first. Oh, dear, now do I sound nanny-ish? I truly don't mean to. Just, take care, hmm?

{{big but gentle hugs}}

mamacrow said...

witch hazel gel is good too, and warm baths with 2/3 drops of lavendar oil...

I'm signing up to be part of the nanny brigade! :D

oatmeal girl said...

Oh, the nanny brigade!! Just what i need, someone (some many) to take care of me. That used to be the philosopher's job...

Community. I do love community. Now if only you two were here to care for me, and massage your gels of choice into my poor bruised ass... mmm, how lovely... (i am bi, after all...)

It feels better today. Not all better, but I no longer wince every time I change position. A definite improvement.

Thanks to everyone who is concerned about me. I can use all the advice I can get.