Story: "...To the Pain" [M/f]
Natty
"Her Dry Eyes" about a girl who never cries...not that I would know this
girl or anything... ;)
************************************
..TO THE PAIN [M/f]
"Tonight you're going to cry." He stood at the threshold between the
bathroom and the bedroom holding the hairbrush, slapping it against his
palm. She looked up from Graham Greene atop the blankets snuggled around
her and chuckled.
"You know I never cry when you spank me."
"But you will tonight." He nodded and walked over to the bed.
"Oh really?" She placed the book on the bedstand, then laid her glasses
on top.
"Yep." He climbed over towards her so that he sat in the middle of the
bed. "Because tonight you are going to feel the pain. You're not going
to push it away like you always do."
She looked up at him with a gaze he had only seen a few times before.
Afraid. Sad. Angry. Vulnerable.
Then a smirk. And a giggle.
"But your arm will get tired first."
"Probably. Then I'll just make you stand in the corner while it rests."
It was his turn to smirk. She huffed.
"But I hate the corner. And it's not like I did anything wrong..."
"Take off your pj bottoms and panties." He nudged her with his shoulder.
She sighed, pulled the covers back and stood. As she tugged down the
plaid flannel and white cotton, he could see the concentration in her
eyes. The deep, centered breathing. He reached out and smacked her left
cheek with the hairbrush. She jumped and reached behind her.
"Ow! Wait! What - "
"I know what you're doing - stop it."
"What are you talking about?"
"You're preparing. Getting your mind ready to dissociate the pain. I
don't want you to. I mean it that I really want you to feel it." He
stared back at her as she scowled. And gaped. Eyes glazed in
disorientation.
Clutching her left arm, he led her body over his lap. Then slapped her
fleshy buttocks repeatedly. Hard. In rapid, concentrated clips for
several minutes. She gripped the quilts. Pulled herself onto her elbows,
moving her bottom forward. Yelped.
"I know that you don't cry when I spank you because you push the pain
away to a place inside where you can't feel it anymore." His smacks
lagged but remained heavy as he spoke. "And it's worked to get you
through some very tough times. But it's still there inside. Hurting you
much more than this is. Keeping you from healing." The hairbrush
returned to the faster pace. "Let it out...Feel it and let it out."
She curled her toes. Shifted her weight from one hip to the other.
Grunted. Dropped her forehead onto her arms.
Oh god this hurts...He's going to stop soon. He will...Damnit this
stings...Just hang in there a little bit. It'll stop in a minute...But it
burns. I can't take it...Yes I can...But he's not stopping. This just hurts
too much...If I can just breathe...Concentrate...
"I want you to focus on how much it hurts. Tell me what it feels like..."
He continued the sharp spanks then increased the force when she remained
silent. "Talk to me - what's it feel like?" She squealed.
"It...it hurts." Then several "ows" and "ohhhwees."
"Okay, what else." Still slapping the hairbrush down on her jiggling,
scorched buttocks and thighs. "How does it hurt?
"Burning...It...it burns. And stings." She whimpered and squirmed. He
steadied her with his left hand on her back. Delivered a biting slap on
the right thigh as her legs jerked upward.
"And...?" Several more smacks on the thighs.
"Ahhh...I...ow...I...don't know...I can't...ohhwee..." She was making the sounds of
someone crying, but without the tears. And it would be awhile yet before
they would come.
She was right. His arm was worn out.
"I want you to go stand in the corner for awhile and think. Think about
how much your bottom hurts and how much it's still going to hurt." She
crawled off his lap and straggled to the corner.
He left her there while he went into the kitchen. Humiliation was not
his intent. No, he really wanted to leave her alone with herself. To
face what was inside.
The paint blots on the wall began to take on individuality as she stared
at them. She hated the corner because it was boring. And then because it
made her have to look at herself. Like a surreal sort of mirror. But
unlike the warped mirrors in a fun house, this mirror did not reflect
back a shorter or wider version of her. It showed a small child. The
little her. The frightened her. The her without any answers. The her she
locked away behind maturity, intellect and toughness needed to survive a
hard life. The her she shielded from all pain. Wherever it came from.
She shivered as the cold air wafted around her naked bottom half.
"Come here." She turned to see him back on the bed, switch in hand. Her
stomach dropped. He patted the bed and she bent over. And with as much
vigor as before he laid the switch on her cold, scalded bottom. She
cried out - but no tears. Yet.
"Let her come out," he whispered. "Go back to that little girl before
she had to become tough and grown up. Back when she could still feel
pain." The switch thwacked across her cheeks. "Back before you built up
all those walls. Before you put on all that armor." Then down across her
thighs. "Before all the injuries and illness. All the loss and heartache..."
That small feeling from the corner came back. The little girl who felt
lost and scared and lonely and sad. And hurt. Unbearably hurt. Who
couldn't find anything to grab onto in her grown up mind to get her
through the pain that burned her skin and throughout her soul...
Oh god...he's not stopping...it hurts so much...so much...all of it...oh god...I
just want it to stop...I just can't...
"It's okay. You don't have to be tough anymore. You're hurting. You've
been hurting for a very long time." Again the switch sliced across her
cheeks. "But it's okay to cry. To feel it." Searing along the thighs
once more. "It's real pain that would be too much for anyone to bear."
The switch bit a few more times. "Let her cry..."
They started in that spot where the stomach and the chest meet. Yes, the
tears came from her eyes, but they started down there. The sobs rippled
through her shoulders. Filled her chest, her stomach, her back.
He dropped the switch onto the floor. Climbed onto the bed and pulled
her next to him. Held her in his arms as she lay there on the bed - the
little girl/woman - crying.
Copyright 2002 Natty
Shelley
really enjoyed the story
Shelley
domino
>This story is sort of a sequel to the story I wrote this summer entitled
>"Her Dry Eyes" about a girl who never cries...not that I would know this
>girl or anything... ;)
>
Very poignant. Thanks Natty
love
domino
Melody
mel
Aussiegirl
wrote:
> This story is sort of a sequel to the story I wrote this summer entitled
> "Her Dry Eyes" about a girl who never cries...not that I would know this
> girl or anything... ;)
>
>
> ************************************
>
> ..TO THE PAIN [M/f]
Wow!!! That was pretty full on. I really enjoyed this. Thank you so
much for sharing this wonderful story with us.
AG
Storm
Storm
Switchmaybe(BG)
recently squicked me, I realise the truth of that part of this story about
kind of bricking up the fireplace with the nasty skeletons behind there,
and though I myself do cry, I have never had the courage to unbrick that
fireplace and give the skeleton a decent burial. I am frightened by what
might happen.
Thanks for making me focus on my fears, but I've still no stomach for the
exhumation.
Maybe one day.
Brian
--
--
___________________________________________________________________________
Brian - Pain is fine, but drop me and I shatter.
Only my eyes are blind.
It's OK, Ive got the balls, so let's play!
switc...@blueyonder.co.uk
___________________________________________________________________________
---
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Checked by AVG anti-virus system (http://www.grisoft.com).
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Haron
and walk around for a bit, because the dormant 'unhappy little girl'
heard you very well, and boy did she react.
It's a remarkable story. It really crawled inside my scull.
Hugs,
Haron
Pablo
>
>This story is sort of a sequel to the story I wrote this summer
>entitled "Her Dry Eyes" about a girl who never cries...not that
>I would know this girl or anything... ;)
Really nice, Natty. That story definitely needed a
sort of sequel, and you did it just right. :-) Thanks.
Pab.
[p&e]
Don A. Landhill
> This story is sort of a sequel to the story I wrote this summer entitled
> "Her Dry Eyes" about a girl who never cries...not that I would know this
> girl or anything... ;)
>
>
> ************************************
>
> ..TO THE PAIN [M/f]
>
>
> "Tonight you're going to cry." He stood at the threshold between the
> bathroom and the bedroom holding the hairbrush, slapping it against his
> palm. She looked up from Graham Greene atop the blankets snuggled around
> her and chuckled.
>
i wonder did you intend your title to echo a scene in _The princess
Bride_? I kept expecting a reference in the story itself, buit i
didn't notice one.
-Don L.
Natty
Don A. Landhill wrote:
> Thank you for your very moving and well-done story. i enjoyed it.
>
> i wonder did you intend your title to echo a scene in _The princess
> Bride_? I kept expecting a reference in the story itself, buit i
> didn't notice one.
Heya Don! Sorry to be so long in answering your question. Yes, the title
is borrowed from a line in the _Princess Bride_. However, I didn't
reference it in the story because, while I liked the line as a title,
the situation where it's used in the movie didn't really seem to apply
to anything in this story. So, I sorta just stole it... though, I did
put in quotes, even if I didn't quite adequately reference it. (LOL --
and I'm suppose to be an academic! Oh the shame! ;-) )
Many blessings!
Natty
Kessily
Love kess
Mija
:) This story is sort of a sequel to the story I wrote this summer entitled
:) "Her Dry Eyes" about a girl who never cries...not that I would know this
:) girl or anything... ;)
:)
<snip>
(One of the nice things about being away for a little while is
how fun it is working through the stories.)
I liked this story a lot -- Her Dry Eyes had really moved me
and so it was great to see her finally able to love and release
like that.
The desire of people to cry has always fascinated me. I cry
rather too easily (IMO) and tear up even when I'd rather not.
I'm not sure, but I think being told to cry during a spanking
would make it harder -- but maybe not.
I'd love to know what makes people able not to cry. And
whether I can trade some of my tears for their calm.
Peace,
Mija - who had also wondered about the _Princess Bride_
thing. ;)
P&e
ILSA LASLOW
>rather too easily (IMO) and tear up even when I'd rather not.
>I'm not sure, but I think being told to cry during a spanking
>would make it harder -- but maybe not.
Dear Mija,
I've never been told to cry during a spanking so I don't know what effect that
would have. I'm sure it can be embarrassing to be crying easily when everyone
else is dry eyed. But it is also very painful to need to cry and not be able to
release those tears.
Four and a half years ago, when my friend Richard passed, I could not cry for a
very long time. It felt like there was a lump in my throat, choking me. I wrote
about it, talked about him to everyone around me, but nothing set off the
tears.
Finally I went to therapy and worked for a year or so with a therapist who used
hypnotherapy. I was able to cry for Richard's death..about a year and a half
after he died. Believe me, I would have welcomed easy tears. I was not at all
calm inside, it was only that I didn't know how to tap into the place where
crying begins, for me.
It doesn't happen through pain alone, but now I know that the emotions of an
"unfair" spanking or a spanking about a real issue will make me cry. If I'd
known that in May of 1998, I could have helped myself to heal without such a
long delay.
So now, I cry and I am happy about it. If it ever gets to the point where I
think it is too much, I'll reconsider. But at the moment I am very happy to be
able to release tears, during a spanking or at other times.
ILSA LASLOW