Page 44 of Releasing Reenie

Continuing my ministrations, I waited until the dam burst. Until her shoulders began to shake with the weight of sobs she could no longer hold in. Then and only then did I pause to check in with her.

Maureen

Sometime around the time I lost the ability to count swats, sometime around the time tears started falling freely down my face, sometime around then, I truly let go. When Trent took away my control, all my choices, the illusion that I had any sort of say in what was happening, that’s when I’d been able to focus on the reason I was really there.

I was able to focus on Mira, her needs, and the way I’d failed her. I was able to focus on the fact that this was a punishment. I was able to feel cleansed. I was able to remind myself that everyone, even Doms made mistakes. By doing this, by putting myself in a position to accept correction for my mistakes, byhumbling myself like this, by not being the Domme, by trusting someone else with control, I’d done two things.

I’d proven to myself that I was a worthy Dominant. That I had what it took to truly lead. I’d also proven to myself that I didn’t have to. And that was the bigger deal. Because in doing that, I’d allowed myself to admit that I didn’t even want to. That it was okay to let go of the control I’d spent so long clinging so tightly to.

The same tight hold had been the catalyst that had me climbing out the bathroom window on what could have been a very promising date. The same tight hold that had made me run as far as I could from my potential destiny, from a man that even back then I’d known was the man of my dreams.

And here, life had given me a second chance. I’d almost squandered it again. The more I wanted it, the more tempted I was to give it a chance, the more afraid I’d been. I would have fucked it up again. It was only a matter of time.

But this, tonight, this single scene, brought on by a series of events I hadn’t been able to control…. This could change everything.

CHAPTER 23

Maureen

Those were the thoughts I found myself clinging to as Trent switched from wood to a thick leather strap, similar to the one I’d used on Mira, except far more imposing.

The realization that both things could be true. That if I hadn’t fucked up tonight, I might not be here, and if I wasn’t here, I might have eventually run again. I would have let my thoughts and longings scare me. I would have pushed Trent away, kept him at a professional distance to keep something like this from happening.

But it was happening, and now that I was through the guilt and absolution, through the emotions of the actual punishment, I could allow myself to just… feel. To be in the moment. To lean into the pain. To let it help me work through all my big, complicated feelings, because deep down, I did believe that a good spanking could do just that.

And this one was. Boy was it.

The pain that had been so excruciating before, while I processed through my guilt, now felt decadent. Trent’s voice,previously scolding me for wrongdoings, now was gentle, sliding over me like honey as he praised me for letting out my emotions, for taking my spanking so well.

He didn’t know the full effects his words were having, he didn’t know the way the simple praises were pouring a balm on gaping wounds.

He couldn’t know how he’d brought out the side of me I’d spent so long pushing down. Was I a switch? I tried the word on for size. It felt… not quite right.

The strap continued to work its way up and down my backside, sit-spots and the tops of my thighs. Trent occasionally checked in to see where I was. Red, yellow, green. I was always green. Had been.

This time, when he asked, I cried out, “Yellow!”

The strap continued to caress my skin, falling softer now, interspersed with Trent’s caring touch.

I felt something inside me break. My desire for control left me in a loud wail. And then Trent’s fingers worked the cuffs, freeing me. His arms wrapped around my body, pulling me close.

Trent laid me on the bed, and curled up beside me, grabbing a throw blanket from the end of the bed and covering me with it as he pulled me closer to him.

We hadn’t negotiated this. Hadn’t talked about aftercare at all. If we had, I would have probably tried to be too strong, to tell him I’d be fine. Just give me water, chocolate and a hug and send me on my way.

I would have been wrong, I realized as my still-falling tears wet the fabric of his shirt. I did need this. I needed him.

I couldn’t get enough, couldn’t feel enough, couldn’t be close enough. I pushed my body against his, craving the feel of him against me. I felt cherished when he wiped my tears, and cared for when he took my chin in his hand and tipped my face up.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently. “You took that so well. How do you feel?”

That was the loaded, million dollar question of the night. How did I feel? There were a thousand possible answers and all of them felt true.

I couldn’t answer. I wasn’t ready. “Water?” I rasped. “Please?”

He had to get up to get it, and I felt the loss of his presence with a deep ache, but it gave me a moment to gather my thoughts, to take stock of my body and my emotions. How did I feel?

My ass burned. My muscles ached from the restraints. My eyes were tired and heavy. I felt like I could sleep for three days straight. My throat was parched. My stomach felt hollow, just as he’d predicted it would. And yet, aside from all that, I felt… amazing.

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