Belts
Suspicions about why I’m drawn to the use of them.

I’m going to tell you a little story before I get to the main jist of this.

Back in Cheyenne, in ’96, after C and I had broken up, and I had met M., M. came for a visit. C, whom I had remained friends with, wanted to meet him during the visit. I was suspicious of that, but agreed nonetheless. On M’s first full night there, we all went out and had some drinks (and dinner, I think) and all went well. A few nights later, C. brought his little grill and some elk steaks over, and we all spent the evening together. Call me naive, but I thought things were going rather well.

Later in the evening, we were sitting around the TV, playing Tetris on Nintendo, and I – being my usual silly self – made some comment (and for the life of me, I have no idea what I said or why), and after I said it, C gave me the “evil eye. When there was no reaction from M, C stood up and took his belt off.

Okay, could it BE anymore awkward? I’m in a room with my current dominant and my former dominant – and my former dominant wants to smack my ass with his belt. M said nothing. The room was really quiet, until I finally told C to sit down. We all laughed it off. Eventually, M went back to California, and a day or so later, C and I conversation about the belt incident. C had very strong reservations about M being my dominant. He said that one reason was because M made no gesture whatsoever when the belt came off. C said it had been some sort of ‘test’ and that M had failed with flying colors. (I’m going to interject here that C and I had some *serious* unresolved feelings between us at this point, and we both knew it, but we weren’t admitting it).

As it turns out, he was right. Although not immediately, the reaction that M had (or lack thereof) did show itself in other ways in my relationship with him when I moved to California to be with him.

Here it is, years later. The unresolved feelings between C and I are now (as far as I know) all resolved, and we’re together and as happy as we can be when we’re umpteen thousand miles apart.

And yet, I can still see him taking that belt off. If I close my eyes tight enough, I can feel the way I felt in my living room that evening (well, minus the “I’m-so-in-love-with-my-new-dominant-I’ll-overlook-his-weirdness” thing).

How did I feel? Excited. Frightened. Pissed off (because he knew better than to do that with my new dominant in the room, but he did it anyway, and put me in an awkward position). Defiant. Did I mention excited?

We had never – well, we still have never – played with The Belt. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned any of this to him, and when he reads this, it’ll probably be the first he hears of it.

Did I have any fantasies about being spanked with a belt before that? Not conscious ones. Have I ever been hit with a belt? Not that I can recall. I’ve been threatened with one (coincidently, by M, a few years after this incident) but it was an empty threat.

Frankly, the idea of C hitting me with his belt for some infraction (real or imagined) scares the crap out of me, but gives me that tingly “I really wanna try that” feeling, too.

There’s something about a belt – it’s not as personal as a hand, and it’s not as contrived (I don’t like that word for this, but I can’t think of another) as a paddle or crop. It’s something that nearly everyone has one of in their house. It’s significantly male to me. Its leather, but it’s not scene-related. It’s a normal, every day piece of clothing that could yield some devastating painful reminders on my ass. It looks and feels like punishment.

We’ll get back to why I like the idea of punishment later….