That is the best way to describe me when I am being flogged with a very thuddy toy.
Daddy’s favourite flogger is a really thuddy toy.
The first time we played with it Daddy placed me with my head at the foot of the bed and secured my wrists with cuffs and rope to keep me in place. This was our release play (or maybe it was just a release for me).
I was blindfolded while Daddy tormented me with a few stingy implements of his choosing followed by his favourite flogger. By this time I was well warmed up and he went at me. In these moments there is no concept of time for me – 5 minutes, 5 hours it’s all the same. While my body processes the pleasure/pain my mind goes to another place.
During this first round, my raced quite a bit about things completely unrelated to the moment:
I felt guilt over playing from hooky the following day
I remember thinking of The Ex-Boyfriend
I remember thinking I’m a complete lightweight who was giggly after one glass of wine with dinner
I remember thinking about work projects
I remember worrying about the way my body looked at the moment and whether Daddy was pleased
On and on these thoughts rapidly fired and then in an instant there is nothing. As the falls thud onto my skin they empty out my head. And I let go. I cried that night. I released the hurt in my soul and as Daddy held me (and Marcel – though he may not admit to cuddling the monkey too) I felt better than I had in weeks.
The following morning after some intense sex, more cuddles and snuggles, Daddy showed me how to use the flogger. As I flogged the pillow I understood how wielding it could be a pretty heady experience. When I handed it back to Daddy he swung it a few times on the pillow to before he pushed me face down on the bed to use it properly – on me.
This time was different. Yes my thoughts fired rapidly but this time there was silence and no tears. Just an incredible sense of peace and relaxation even as Daddy struck me harder and harder. I got lost in my head. I was gone.
Based on our discussions after the fact so was Daddy. He was so incredibly swept up in the moment that he was afraid of where he could have gone. So he pulled back and stopped us.
In those moments, when I get silent, I lose the ability to react as I normally would. I think it actually makes me “dumb”. I can’t speak for a while and when I start to, it’s very short, very some times jumbled sentences and thoughts. Daddy dragged me completely up onto the bed and held me quietly until I started to come back into myself. But the self that comes back is like the “light” version of Aurore. She is high from the endorphins, not terribly eloquent or thoughtful, she in essence a completely carefree version of me. I like her. She glows and bounces and giggles. She isn’t anxious or fussy. She just is.