Growing Pains

I've had my share of growing pains during my little evolution. Thing is, I'm not the only one who feels 'em.
The first hardcore beating I ever delivered was actually born out of my growing pains in a way.
It started one late summer night at Paddles. Tool had been complaining that he felt I hadn't been spending enough time with him in exchange for the monthly rent money he had agreed to pay me, so I had told him he was welcome to join Derek and Rachel* (the girl Derek was seeing at the time), Alex, Sasha and me that night, letting him know in advance that I had already made plans to play with Harrison once there. I had also offered a few of the guys I had been talking to on CM the opportunity to come introduce themselves to me in person. Add to the mix that Alex and Sasha were both having problems with the respective men in their lives (this night was actually Sasha's last foray into fetish because her boyfriend didn't approve), and I was being pulled in about six different directions all night.
My day had gotten off to a bad start as it was; I had spent the afternoon having lunch and puppy play in a public park with one of those "energy vampires" Brooke had warned me about. I didn't even see it coming because he was a really sweet guy, so it took me by surprise that I felt so drained and shitty by the time I got home ... I kept taking breaks from getting ready for our Paddles evening to commission Derek for hugs so I would feel better.
Anyway, it was all downhill from there. In the car on the way there, I was telling Tool and the girls about my afternoon with the energy vampire in sheep's clothing when Tool's cell phone rang. Shushing me, he held up a hand and scrambled to answer the call. Ooh, bad fucking move, buddy.
I turned to Sasha, "As soon as he hangs up, pay attention."
We waited a good ten to fifteen minutes for him to wrap things up, his whiny, nasally voice and loud, nervous laughter grating on my last frayed nerve.
"Okay, I realize you might need to take work-related calls sometimes ..." I began.
"Oh, that was a personal call," he breezily interrupted me for the second time in the last half hour. The man's denseness really knew no bounds, and given my already bad mood, I pounced on this little nugget of information.
"Oh, was it? And you think it's perfectly acceptable and appropriate behavior for you to 'shush' me so you can answer a personal call?"
"I didn't shush you ..." he started to protest.
"And now you're arguing the point with me to boot!?" I exclaimed, holding up a hand as he began spewing more excuses, "Ohhh, no. I'm speaking now, and for once in your life, you're going to stop flapping your gums just to hear the sound of your own voice and listen. That is completely unacceptable! Now, what do you think would have been a respectful and appropriate response to your phone ringing when I'm in the middle of telling you something?"
"I ... don't know."
"Well, think," I snapped.
"I ... could have said 'Goddess, may I please answer my phone?"" he tried.
"That certainly would have been a preferable plan to the gross display of disrespect you just forced us to witness."
"I'm sorry, Goddess."
"We've been over this," I told him, "your being 'sorry' is worthless to me. Don't be 'sorry,' be better." I had recently picked that line up from Derek and had been using it quite liberally.
"Yes, Goddess."
We drove the rest of the way to Paddles in silence ... not that anything improved once we got there. The place was packed (I forget what the event was), and no one was really playing, which kind of defeated the purpose as far as I was concerned since I couldn't really come up with a better training method for Sasha. Only one of my CM guys had showed up, which was just as well, really, since I wasn't in the mood to even have him and Tool trailing me like the Pied Piper, let alone anyone else. I chatted a bit with CM guy, but focused most of my attention on Sasha and Alex (Derek and Rachel were long gone at this point, exploring the club while he led her around in her lingerie). We finally found what looked like the set up for a scene, but there was nowhere to sit, so Tool volunteered his services as a chair while CM guy turned himself into a footstool.
They picked a ridiculous spot left and center across from the bar where people were tripping over us, and as it turned out, human furniture was not my thing at all, so after a few minutes, I announced as much, throwing in a catty comment about how if I had wanted a vibrating massage chair, I could have purchased a far more comfortable one for good measure. Of course, Tool immediately went into a snit over that one, but thankfully, Harrison chose that moment to enter. I launched myself at him (well, as much as I could "launch" in stiletto thigh high boots, anyway) in one of those classic "never been so happy to see anyone in my life" bear hugs, but he kind of killed the moment when, by way of greeting, he said, "Hey, my friend who has a huge trampling fetish is here if you want to play with him."
"Why? I don't know him," I retorted way more shortly than he deserved.
He held up his hands, "Okay, just thought I'd ask."
"I'm having a bad night," I explained, softening just as quickly, "I really am glad to see you."
Then when we made our way over to the couch so he could try to fix my smile with some of his fabulous foot worship, Tool and CM guy followed, planting themselves at my feet on either side of him, both successfully making Harrison incredibly uncomfortable and catapulting my aggravation to heights I hadn't even known existed in one fell swoop.
CM guy got the hint first, making his way over to the bar, and after what seemed like ages, Tool finally followed suit. But the damage had been done, and my bitchy disposition (regardless whether I was directing it at him or not) was apparently reminding Harrison of his ex-girlfriend in a really bad way, compounding the fact that he had recently been struggling with depression. Once he confided as much to me, we finished off the foot worship with me snuggling his face into my cleavage, stroking his hair, and asking him to call me when he felt up to talking (which he did a few days later, so I must not have been that awful ... well, to him anyway).
Tool was sitting by himself at a table when we finished, so I made my way over and sat down across from him.
"I hope you'll play with me like that one day," he said.
Not really thinking, I replied, "Well, we can certainly play, but it won't be quite like that ... Harrison is a bit more age appropriate for me."
All hell broke loose then. I still can't decide whether I would have actually preferred it had he lain down on the floor, kicking and screaming. In any event, it simply blew his mind that I had stated the patently obvious fact that he was old enough to be my father. And furthermore, while he claimed the foot worship scene had been beautiful, he also deemed it, "Too obnoxious for me or the other guy to sit there in service anymore."
"So I'm obnoxious now, am I?" Really, he was making finding fault with his behavior entirely too easy, "Because, I don't recall asking either of you to join us. However, I do recall telling you when I invited you here that I had already made plans to play with Harrison this evening."
"Well, I didn't realize it would be like that," he pouted.
"Where are my friends?" I spat, rising, "I'm sick to death of talking in circles with you."
Alex was in the car, pseudo napping and wallowing in her boy problems. I chatted with CM guy for a bit, acknowledging the chaotic vibe of the evening, explaining about my bad day, and encouraging him to call me for a second meeting where things would hopefully be less hectic. Then I found Sasha, and we watched a few more scenes before deciding to call it a night. After wishing Harrison a good night, we headed outside where Tool was talking to Derek and Rachel by the car ... complaining about me, I shortly learned via a text from Alex, informing me of the disruption of her nap courtesy of his whining and obnoxious laugh. Of course, when confronted, he denied this, too.
"Are you accusing Mistress Alexandra of lying now, on top of your tantrum?" I asked incredulously, "Apologize to her, and then I don't want to hear another word out of you the rest of the way home." Once he complied, I added, "Thank you for driving and for paying our cover, but the rest of your behavior this evening was deplorable."
A few days later, Derek volunteered to mediate a discussion between Tool and me (and a cane), in hopes of helping me to reign him in. True to form, Tool spent the first half of the discussion mouthing off until I slapped him across the face, wondering why I hadn't done so ages ago. Since Derek had spent our planning frequently employing the quote, "The beatings will continue until morale improves," it wasn't long before the discussion escalated to me turning to Tool. "So, I don't give you enough attention? Well, that's all going to change tonight. Tonight you're going to get the attention you've earned. Tonight you're going to be my little pain slut."
And, while Alex and Derek watched (Derek narrating a play by play to his friend Libby* over the phone and informing me that Libby's suggestion was "harder"), I made use of every toy in both Derek's and my toy bags, several clothespins, and the knife sharpener from the kitchen (which, as luck would have it, doubled quite nicely as a surprisingly mean little paddle). There was no warm up, no safe word, and I had what I referred to as "flogger's elbow" for a few days afterwards. I beat the shit out of him with everything I could get my hands on and flicked the clothespins 'til he doubled over. And the whole time, I mockingly demanded, "Is this enough attention for you, my little attention piggy? Do you feel like you're getting your money's worth now? Maybe now you'll learn to show me some respect and realize that I'm not your little puppet Mistress!"
"I never thought that, Goddess," he whimpered, "I just want to please you. I'm sorry I didn't realize your power before."
"Which is code for you didn't take me seriously before," I corrected. Oh, please. Like he was really going to win with me? "Sit up!" I barked as he rolled in pain on the floor after a particularly savage flick to one of the clothespins on his nipples, "I thought you said you wanted to please me? Well, this pleases me."
Behind me, Alex let out a snort, as I emphasized my statement by giving the clothespin another good, hard flick.
"Well, I don't know about you, but I feel much better," I announced cheerfully when I finally showed him out later on that night. As the door closed behind him, I at last allowed myself to join Alex in her cackling.
"Now that gives a whole new definition to the word 'owned!'" she declared.
Hurting Tool was, hands down, the best possible medicine for releasing all my pent up frustration. I did feel worlds better. And I had learned from a few mistakes that I didn't plan on making again. All in all, it was a win-win for me; since he was the most irritating individual I had ever encountered, I really didn't feel any kind of remorse over my lesson's expense to him. The important part, just as I had said to him that night, was that I felt better.
I don't really deal with things that way anymore. Up until recently, I've been making a more concentrated effort to keep my growing pains to myself a little more.
Putting them in print here has been really cathartic for me.
But the other day ... once again, I stopped being the only one who was feeling the effects of my growing pains. And hurting John hasn't been nearly as satisfying as beating the shit out of Tool was. Wait, let me rephrase that: hurting someone I actually care about isn't even remotely satisfying. In fact, it kinda sucks.
The silver lining there is that it was nice to find out he actually cared. 'Cause I really wasn't sure either way before. Communication on the subject has been limited to text messages, but for once, I really feel like I'm finally being completely straightforward and putting it all out there, saying exactly what I mean, and trying my best not to leave anything out. Well, I think we both are, really. He's got a bit of a problem with vagueness himself, but he's been a lot more expressive in this instance. And part of me is really pleased with what seems like an extremely healthy development.
As for the other half? She really wants to be lying in bed with a certain little boy's head nestled into that nook between her breasts and collarbone, fingers in his hair, brushing her lips in the occasional kiss across his forehead ... just 'cause that's the best aftercare idea she can come up with in the aftermath of this particular brand of hurting.