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First Failure
I was crying. Actively crying. My whole torso was shaking, and I couldn't even tell you what I was doing with my hands. She had finished using her riding crop on me, and I was still distressed.
She took my face in her hands and made me look at her, and really looked into my eyes. "You're still not okay, are you? You still feel guilty?"
I don't know if it was guilt as much as shame and just a feeling of devastation.
Flash back to earlier this morning.
Her alarm went off. I was mildly awake, if such a thing is possible. She had loosed me to go to the bathroom some time before six and had elected to let me stay loose when I came back to bed. This meant she wanted me to run my hands over her body (gently) and snuggle up against her. I was really tired (a little congested) but the sweetness of those moments was not something I wanted to give up in the place of more sleep.
So when her alarm did go off around six I was pretty much awake. Now, I do NOT stay in the bed, unbound, if she leaves it, normally. If I'm really tired, she might let me nap or even sleep before she comes up at night, but then she always secures me. In the morning, when she gets up and goes downstairs, I get up. Every time. This was different. She had me set my alarm on my phone for twenty minutes, and the last thing I remember is her saying something along these lines: "I'm glad we can do this. It gives me more options in the morning."
She was happy I could stay in bed, unsecured, and get up in a little bit to make her coffee and breakfast.
The next thing I knew, she was waking me up. I had turned off my alarm, with no recollection of doing so. I was mortified. I was humiliated. I was embarrassed. I felt like a failure. I imagined what her disappointment must have felt like, that I was not to be trusted. That I had let her down.
I could feel my breathing get ragged, and my emotions close in on me. I immediately got really upset and started to react. I think I shocked her, more than anything. Looking back, I don't think she was upset at all. She was confused a little, maybe, as I hadn't let her down like this at all since we started our new life together.
//Mrs Fillmore: Besides the number of hits, I wasn't angry at all. Hurt and confused, but not angry
But even as she tried to stroke and reassure me, soothing what were now sobs, I just got worse. We were standing on my side of her bed. Of course she knew what to do.
"Get back in bed, ass up," came her command.
Her voice was not harsh, but the tone of authority was unmistakable. I clung to it like a piece of flotsam in the raging seas that were my emotions.
I immediately obeyed, and tried to close out the anxiety and remorse, focusing on the moment. But it was no good.
Soon, I felt the first blow of her big riding crop, the blue one. The pain sliced away my negative energy, chunks of it falling away with each loud crack of the leather against my ass. When she was done I felt better, but I was still upset. I sat on the edge of the bed and she hugged me, trying to sooth me.
"You're still not okay, are you? You still feel guilty?" This was where my story started.
I wanted to say no, but the emotional distress was still there, and I could only nod. She pulled me off the bed and led me around to her side, which had much more room. She gently pushed me and positioned me so that I was leaning over the edge of the bed, and I put my ass out for her. I couldn't tell you the exact amount of blows she applied, because I try to stay in the moment and feel each one individually, but it was more than ten, I think. //Mrs Fillmore - It was seven.
These were hard, and while I wasn't looking, I have no doubt she was really swinging the crop. She knew, as she always does, exactly what I needed.
At the end, my body was calm, my emotions had settled. I was still a touch upset, but only enough to make me want to make her happy; to take care of her and make her smile.
"Are you all right now, my sweet boy," she asked me. I was. We had dealt with it, and learned from the morning. We were once more completely in sync.
Edit- Mrs Fillmore informs me that this was NOT a failure. I so appreciate her wisdom here. It was the first opportunity for a correction. A failure would be if I were doing one of the major things I used to do that caused her anguish. This was just something I did that we both can learn from. A failure is like a car crash; there are broken pieces strewn around and you limp away from it. We both walk away from this better, more informed people in step with one another.
