I've shared bits and pieces of my past with you and with Eric. It's not easy but each time I do, I seem to let go a little more.
There was an assault and I ended up with a black eye from being pounded across the face with an open fist. I recall the strike that popped my blood vessels but then my brain conveniently left my body and stood off to the side, watching as though the girl on the couch was someone unknown to me.
There is a slapping video on a blog that I found intriguing. It portrays people who have never been slapped or who have never slapped someone else. They take turns slapping each other across the face to see what the reactions would be.
I showed the video to Eric and we had multiple conversations about what it would be like if we tried it. In my head, I imagined being on a rampage full of hurt feelings and accusations about him wanting to leave me; all stories I had concocted as he is clearly telling me on a regular basis that he is not going anywhere. In my fantasy, rather than letting me go on and on, he slaps me once and stops the madness. We talked it to death. We agreed to try it once. We didn't say when or what the circumstances would be.
Friday, Eric came home from work with a bag full of my all time favorite organic extra large cherries. He told me I was pretty and massaged my skin while scrolling around the internet and looking at all kinds of videos. Then he undressed me seductively and pulled out our toy chest. He put himself in a vulnerable position, allowing me to "test" a few things on him just to give him a feel for what I will experience when he goes all out.
We have a few bondage items and Eric tied me up with a harness, clipping my ankles together at the foot of the bed. He kissed me passionately, pulled my nipples playfully and placed a new vibrator teasingly between my legs. I was at his mercy and he studied every reaction I had; physical, emotional and verbal.
"Before I make love to you," he said saddling up to my side, "tell me you started your paper."
I laughed it off. "Ha!" I exclaimed. "You know I don't care about that dumb...."
He slapped my face.
I froze and in my head, I was back on that couch under attack, and then he did it again.
My mind was racing and confused, my body bound and even more helpless than that awful night so many years ago.
Eric looked endearingly into my eyes and watched the fear on my face melt away as we both marveled at the reality of what had just taken place. He checked in, "You okay, love?" and I nodded, still in shock but feeling a huge horrible weight lifting away from me.
Eric immediately undid all of the restraints and waited for me to decide what was next. I found his lips and kissed him deeply. I pulled my knees to my chest, opening myself to his body. Eric reached for the vibrator again and held it solidly on my clit.
"Is this what you do in the closet when I'm gone?" he asked, knowing full well that I do.
"Fuck my butt, honey," I begged, part two of what I do in the closet when he is gone.
Lying on my back, watching the man I love, I fought against the strength of the vibrating wand while Eric lubed his cock and bareback. slid into my ass and rode me, forward facing as though we were making traditional missionary love.
It's been over thirty hours since we both came, yet I'm still in la la land. The cherries, the vulnerability shared by my husband, being bound, the slap and then a brand new physical experience have me in a place of serenity and contented peace.
We've toyed with the idea of having Eric re-enact all of the trauma of the assault so we can change the ending together. It's risky but we both wonder if it would allow me to truly let it go. This is not something Eric wants to do; nothing he would enjoy but the man will try anything to help me fully recover. I'm not nearly ready to do it. I'm not even close to wanting to go there. I still can't tell him the whole story, let alone go through it again.
At the same time, I got a taste of what letting go can feel like and what it can do for me. Eric looked scared to death when he thought he had hurt me but I'm good, really really good. I didn't detach or run or freak out or regress, but I did let an ancient moment go. This is a huge step for me. I kept control of my mind and body rather than revert to old ways.
For the record, I feel no need to ever be slapped in a defenseless position again. I do still wonder, though, when I'm crazy-girl overthinking and hollering about something insane, what it would be like for Eric to stop me with one quick slap to my cheek.
Yesterday was about freedom from the past. Eric took a risk and it paid off. We both feel rather lucky about that one. We know to be careful with me.
I have hope. One day, there will be no more rearview mirror haunting my mind but instead, I'll be full speed ahead and moving forward with Eric by my side.
It's hard to share some things but there are days when it's even harder to keep them bottled up inside.