Just a little bit better...

We are both so hungry for just a little bit of any kind of "play." It just seems like it has been ages since we could connect in the way that for us is so primal and so elemental.

First the D&C and the seemingly interminable bleeding after that... I'd only just quit and was ready to be pronounced "ready for action" when the rotten appendix showed up and plunged me back into the ranks of the officially infirm again.

And I am healing but slowly. Still sore. Still achy. Better than a week ago, surely, but still restricted to not lifting more than 5 pounds, and not back to work yet. Off the prescription pain medications, but living on Tylenol every four hours without fail. And I won't see the doctor for my official post surgical follow up until next Monday.

Still...

He has these new crops. Never been tested. So last night. Late. Some rubbing and stroking -- everything so tentative, every touch a question, every move an experiment, even hugging is an exercise in pain management...

Finally, I got rolled over onto my belly. A first, and a triumph. Lie still for a few minutes and breathe and try and relax. Let the fear subside. That didn't hurt. And He stroked my back and my thighs and my sex... until I thought I would simply die... until I sobbed my hunger under His touch -- knowing the crop would surely come.

And it did. Lightly for a few taps and then sharply once. A test. And my fear made it worse than it probably was. Not fear of the pain of the crop, but of the incision in my belly. Would it hold? The clenching made it burn. I cried and shook. He soothed, and we began again, and then He was back and again there was that crop... twice, three times. Surely no more than 5 strokes all together. Hardly enough to count as a spanking. For us, barely even enough to whet the appetite.

Still, it left me aching in my gut, and reaching again for the pain pills that I'd so recently graduated from. This morning, I could barely move. But oh, just that little bit was sweet.

swan