Finding That Spot

So, I'm sitting on a very sore bottom as I type this post. Yes, my boyfriend arrived three days ago, and I've been spanked everyday since. What a meanie... ;)

Actually, he's really not. He's quite sweet, slowly breaking me back in. My pain threshold is the lowest it's ever been in the four and a half years since I started exploring my spanking kink and getting my backside spanked. Even hand spankings are enough to make me yelp and kick my legs a bit.

It's not like the pain I went through this summer/fall is the only time I've been in tremendous physical pain. Six years ago when I was on blood thinners to treat blood clots in my calf and lungs that developed after surgery on my knee and ankle, my knee started hemorraghing internally. The paramedics said that it looked like there was a soccer ball on my knee. Even though they were giving me morphine by IV every 20 minutes, it felt like someone had kicked my kneecap out of place and then with all of the nerves and ligaments still attached, jumped on top of it. And since I was post-operative, they couldn't drain it because I could have bled to death. So, they just wrapped it up really tight. They don't make narcotics yet that are strong enough for that kind of pain. It used to be when I heard stories about the IRA shooting out the kneecaps of people, I'd think "omg -- that's gotta be like, the worse pain ever." Now I just sorta shrug and think, "I could take it. Wouldn't be pleasant, but I'd manage."

September wasn't quite that bad, but it was bad enough and for a much longer period of time. When I think back to when my knee bled, I feel a mixture of anger (I was released from the hospital with the blood clots far too soon by some very condescending doctors and against what my nurse thought was wise) as well as a sick sort of pride. I survived. I know what real pain is like. I'm tough. But when I think about that horrible kidney pain of September, all I feel is trauma and helplessness. I didn't have to be in that much pain for so long, but nobody understood what was wrong. In this case, it wasn't negligence but my body not giving my doctors the right information.

And now it's like I'm still in this sort of post-traumatic stress, which is, as I've talked about in another post, a result of having Fibromyalgia where my "pain amplifier" is turned up too far. Which is why it's nice having my boyfriend here at last. To curl up with in bed. To stroke my hair. To kiss my head. To cuddle me in between stingy smacks that are lighter than normal as I find that spot where my spanko imagination and my traumatized physical sensation can meet.