Thursday, May 19, 2016

A Painful Reminder

Our relationship began on trips. We started casually playing at spanking parties around the country. We became play partners going to more and more parties. Then we fell in love and traveled together. When we began to travel together one of the things Lizzie loves, that I enjoy too, is to have a really hard scene before we travel. Read our two sides to learn more.

Lizzie wanted to "feel it" when we traveled. She wanted to be uncomfortable on the plane. She relishes it. Loves wiggling from the discomfort of her sore bottom.

Often, while flying, she will suddenly sit upright, get a big childish grin on her face, and lean over to peck me on the cheek. "What's that for?" I'll ask, surprised. "My bottom hurts, daddy."

I don't get this. But I'm not a masochist. But Lizzie loves it. The more messed up her bottom is before a trip the better. Once, we played at the local dungeon we used to frequent the night before a trip we were taking together to London. I just ran into the photos I took that night after the scene and in the days that followed as the redness turned to deep bruising. It has been a brutal, punishing scene.

Guess what? Lizzie loved the 11 hour flight the next day.

Over time, this has become a bit of a ritual. Flight coming up? Time to smack that bottom with hand, with cane, with strap. Then, the next day, the inevitable squirming in her seat followed by the peck on the cheek and the pronunciation: "My bottom hurts."
One of my favorite things about attending spanking parties was flying home on a sore bottom. Sure, I made great friends at parties and had amazing, memorable scenes. But flying home with a sore bottom? That was guaranteed with every party. I might describe it as the capstone of the party - a lasting reminder of every great adventure of the weekend.

When Craig and I started traveling together, that burning bottom came to mean even more to me. It was still a reminder of an incredible weekend. But while flying home from a party on a sore bottom allowed me to combine the good, the great, the mediocre, and even that bad, experiences into one pleasant sensation, flying home from a weekend with Craig was a culmination of every delightful moment we had shared.

Perhaps even more importantly, cherishing that sore bottom as I flew home helped to ease the pain of parting from Craig - something that got harder after each trip. It was affirmation of everything we enjoyed together. It was comfort and distraction from the separation to come. And, of course, I’m a pain slut - so there’s an element of pure pleasure in that pain.
We are finally taking our honeymoon, after 11 months of marriage. We're on a cruise right now as you read this (auto-posting is a great thing). Departing on our cruise from New York, we knew we had a five hour flight ahead of us before we left.

So what did we do? A little "discomfort preparation." Or maybe that's "squirm induction." Either way, I spanked, paddled, and strapped her bottom until it was warm enough to cook an egg on. And what happened when we flew the next day? The wiggle. The shifting of weight in her airline seat. The perky smile. The kiss. Followed by, what every time sounds like a surprising revelation: "My bottom hurts, daddy."

No shit.
Even now, when we travel together, I look forward to having a sore bottom to travel on. Each time, I can relive some pleasant memories, remembering the thrill of those first parties, or Brad’s final strapping at a party in Florida that left me “hovering” over my seat, or a deeply moving, intensely emotional scene from Craig before we flew to London that left me with bruises through the entire trip (you can see them here). It’s something I cherish in the moment and something I look forward to remembering in the future.

Plus, it helps keep me out of mischief during our travels. There are plenty of times when the tedium of travel might otherwise cause me to think a spanking sounded like a good idea. Wait. Who am I kidding? It’s hardly a deterrent. But it is, happily, a promise.

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