To Fly, or to Flu, that is the question.
My cleo has her own weblog, which I have to say is a good one. She uses that to talk about things that happen to her, and us each day. Her most recent post is about our plans to play, and how things so often conspire to get in the way, and circumstances over which we have no control always (well, often anyway) seem to stop us from completing the planned activity.
Yesterday for example, having finished a long hard shift at work, 5 nights of real crap I came home, and we ended up at lunchtime in a heightened state of arousal, created by some sensual spanking, and application of pain and things. Now, in this state I can always tell, cleo is ready to "fly": to take that leap into subspace which is her goal, and release, and which state can often last for several hours. Of course, on a friday afternoon this is just not practical, because the kids will be home, and the youngest has to be collected from school. So with great self control, cleo declined to allow herself to be transported to that altered state. No matter. Friday evening we are alone, and it can be continued....
So, Friday evening arrives, and after a meal the "play" is restarted: sensual spanking again, and the use of clamps which normally would create that trapdoor to the delicious subspace thing for cleo. However, after a while, and continued spaking and flogging which would normally have her head beginning to get really "whizzy" (note: Whizzy is a technical term we use for that first step into subspace: the rolling eyes, and the apparent intoxication effect caused by endorphin rush) she breaks down because the pain is just that. Not erotic, or sensual, not uplifting or mind-numbing, but just bloody hurting.
The last couple of days cleo has intimated she thought she may be getting a cold, or flu. Suddenly it looms large: she is coming down rapidly with some sort of cold: runny nose, aching all over, coughing and spluttering. So, we stop the play, and she ends up in a blubbering mass on the floor, all tears and running nose, because what had promised so much was never fulfilled, and she feels she has let me down, and she knows she will not fly tonight. So be it. I am pretty philosophical about these things, but all the same feel very upset for her, because I know how much she was looking forward to it.
The only thing to do then is tuck her up in bed and dose her up with flu tablets, and try to let her sleep as soundly as possible. This done, we hope the flu is not too bad as we are invited to dinner with a D/s friend tonight (Saturday).
Now, to get cleos perspective on this whole thing why not have a look at her personal weblog.
Click here to go to cleo's personal site, and follow the links to the journal from there to read her weblog. . Bookmark it too, because she writes a good piece, and it's well worth reading.
Yesterday for example, having finished a long hard shift at work, 5 nights of real crap I came home, and we ended up at lunchtime in a heightened state of arousal, created by some sensual spanking, and application of pain and things. Now, in this state I can always tell, cleo is ready to "fly": to take that leap into subspace which is her goal, and release, and which state can often last for several hours. Of course, on a friday afternoon this is just not practical, because the kids will be home, and the youngest has to be collected from school. So with great self control, cleo declined to allow herself to be transported to that altered state. No matter. Friday evening we are alone, and it can be continued....
So, Friday evening arrives, and after a meal the "play" is restarted: sensual spanking again, and the use of clamps which normally would create that trapdoor to the delicious subspace thing for cleo. However, after a while, and continued spaking and flogging which would normally have her head beginning to get really "whizzy" (note: Whizzy is a technical term we use for that first step into subspace: the rolling eyes, and the apparent intoxication effect caused by endorphin rush) she breaks down because the pain is just that. Not erotic, or sensual, not uplifting or mind-numbing, but just bloody hurting.
The last couple of days cleo has intimated she thought she may be getting a cold, or flu. Suddenly it looms large: she is coming down rapidly with some sort of cold: runny nose, aching all over, coughing and spluttering. So, we stop the play, and she ends up in a blubbering mass on the floor, all tears and running nose, because what had promised so much was never fulfilled, and she feels she has let me down, and she knows she will not fly tonight. So be it. I am pretty philosophical about these things, but all the same feel very upset for her, because I know how much she was looking forward to it.
The only thing to do then is tuck her up in bed and dose her up with flu tablets, and try to let her sleep as soundly as possible. This done, we hope the flu is not too bad as we are invited to dinner with a D/s friend tonight (Saturday).
Now, to get cleos perspective on this whole thing why not have a look at her personal weblog.
Click here to go to cleo's personal site, and follow the links to the journal from there to read her weblog. . Bookmark it too, because she writes a good piece, and it's well worth reading.
posted by Paul Knox at
1:35:00 pm
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