The final part of this exceptionally long day!
I wasn’t going to talk about this aspect of day 7 but my new WP friend and reader ejfrostuk raised it in her comment on part 6. So here goes nothing. A warning up front, I am not good at this emotional stuff so telling it may get messy!
The aftermath of the caning was enormous, mentally, physically and emotionally for both of us.
I was laid out across Tom’s lap while he soothed my skin with magic cream of Gray’s that eased the stinging and took the bone deep pain away. Not all of it, but enough to make it manageable. I had quieted down and relaxed properly as soon as I saw the cold had gone from his eyes and my Tom was back in control. His coldness had scared the crap out of me and I don’t mind admitting it.
The one thing that stopped me from reverting to flight behaviour was that I knew I could trust him. I knew he would have stopped immediately if I had used my safe word. I knew there would be no recriminations, no repercussions. He would have just stopped and we would be where we were now, doing what we were doing in this moment. He would care for me. I felt safe and protected by him even when it was from him.
As everyone who has ever read a post of mine will know, my emotions are largely kept locked up behind what Tom calls my steel trap. I don’t think that’s entirely true, I do feel things, and I do express my feelings when I need to. I tend not to let anyone else know what is going on underneath those feelings, what may have caused them or more importantly, how to deal with them. I appreciate that this makes it difficult for anyone around me to support me or even help. I won’t allow anyone in.
I give no quarter, it’s my way or the highway and so far Tom had managed to steer around the huge vortex rotating at the core of us.
His hands were lazily massaging my cheeks. Tears were falling again but not because I was hurt or upset it was because my head was finally empty of anything except the memory of the pain he had given me and I felt clean inside. I embraced it wholeheartedly.
He sat me up on his lap, cradling me in his arms. He muttered soothing words against my hair and the more he said, the harder the tears fell. My wall came down and he heard it crash.
‘Talk to me baby, tell me something, anything.’ He whispered.
Without any clear thought on my part, I began to talk about my childhood, the first 16 years of my life, the anger and hurt and mistrust it was filled with. How love had become a dangerous thing to believe in. How I would as a small child think, why doesn’t my father love me? My friends dads all seemed to care about their kids, they treated them kindly, they were happy to have them around. None of these things happened in my house and I began to believe it was me and my siblings, we must have been so horrible that my father punished us daily and Mam for having us. That feeling of worthlessness lived inside me for a very long time. It is debilitating in the extreme.
I had witnessed that behaviour from him enough times in my childhood and then in my adult life that when, as a grandfather he verbally tried to do the same thing to my small son, I finally recognised it for what it was. We never saw him again after that. That pain above all of the others was the hardest to bear, I had exposed my son to the ugliest venomous snake in the world. But it broke a cycle for me. I recognised that it was not me he didn’t love, it was everyone. He only loved himself. It didn’t take the pain, hurt or anger away. It just got an explanation of sorts and it brought a new much heavier pain with it. The realisation that I learned the lesson too late and my son now knew the colour of ugly in it’s human form. It came from someone he was supposed to be able to love.
I poured all of this out against Tom’s chest. I had stopped crying a while ago, I had taken a deep breath and dived into the past. I felt his tears land on my naked skin. I didn’t look up, I just kept on talking until I was exhausted and desperate to climb out of the vortex. I could feel my skin crawling as the memories began to flood back in for what came after the 16 years. The steel trap snapped back into place like a clam closing around it’s precious centre.
Tom took a jagged deep breath and just held me. He didn’t try to talk to me, he just absorbed my pain into him. I don’t know how else to describe what was happening. I had been locked down for so long it felt surreal and I wondered whether I was actually in this moment or whether I had fallen asleep and this was my dream. I needed to change the direction of my thoughts.
I sat up straighter and smoothed the wet from his face and kissed him. He kissed me back and for a long time we were content to just be.
Because I don’t talk about me, Tom has not told me much about his past either. It’s kind of a ‘quid pro quo’. One given, one taken in return. It was time to turn the table.
I had been carrying a burning question since he had begun the caning and I wanted to know the answer.
‘Who trained you Tom?’ I asked quietly.
He looked at me blankly for a moment and then I saw him get it. I saw the light in his eyes change from tender to cautious.
‘Graham.’ He said succinctly.
‘Are you a switch?’ I asked.
‘No.’ It was like pulling teeth.
‘So you know what I’m going to ask next then?’ I said leaning back from him a little.
He smiled his crooked half smile and the light in his eyes was filled with humour. ‘You want to know why I was submissive to you when we first met.’
‘Yes.’ I said. Wouldn’t anyone??
He took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. ‘I had no other way in. You reacted so strongly to finding out I was straight that first day that I knew you would run me out if I tried to initiate anything more between us. You proved that when I patted your ass as I was leaving. Look at what that brought about! You wanted to be in control of us and I gave it to you. Graham didn’t just teach me how to cane someone effectively baby, he taught me how to read people’s emotional and physical responses to external stimuli and act accordingly to make sure they always felt safe and secure.’
‘That all sounds reasonable, but you were completely submissive to me and to Gray in that first three days. How did you pull that off? Why did you go so deep if it was so far out of your comfort zone?’ I was very confused, I know how much pain I gave him in those three days. I had not held back at all.
He smiled, a lazy smile that was easy and sure. ‘Because I wanted to be in your life. I would take you anyway I could get you. Happily for me you stepped away from discipline and punishments because we got caught up in the constant mind blowing sex. That gave me the opportunity to slowly begin to revert back to who I am but still be guided by your reactions to me. I needed you to feel safe. It was the only way to do it. I don’t regret a single moment of those three days baby, look where it brought us.’
So now I was utterly gobsmacked and entirely unsure whether I had been lied to or manipulated in some way. If that was the case, then it was the weirdest manipulation ever. He had taken a massive amount of pain and humiliation in those first three days, it was about this moment that I realised just what he had done for me.
My tears began to fall again and I was gathered up against him as he poured tender words on my wounds. I listened quietly to the sound of his voice, lost in my thoughts as my fingers drew shapes over his heart, then smoothed them away to go back and draw more.
After the third time, he placed a hand over mine.
‘Leave it there baby, I’ll keep that one.’
I looked at him blankly, I didn’t know what he meant.
He didn’t explain, he just moved us to where we were both in our comfort zone. He lived inside me for the longest time before we dressed and returned to the party.
I asked him as I was falling asleep much later at home, what I had drawn.
He drew me closer in his arms and mumbled, ‘A heart.’