I was okay.And I was proud of myself. I think that's mostly why I smiled. If I could say there was one thing I gained from last night, it was that for the first time in my submissive life, I felt worthy. And I felt different. Thoughts swirled, crystallising as I lay awake, staring at the sliver of moon.I never wanted to be lashed like that ever again, that's for sure. Wrinkling my nose and squirming, trying to get comfortable, I decided I would have to think very carefully before putting myself in that position again.A strange feeling came over me. I felt older, or more mature or something. Experienced. Even my poor behaviour felt far away. Like it was last week. Like it had been someone else, some other person I vaguely knew. With some trepidation, I realised there were holes in my life. Lines yet to be written, different ways of doing things and seeing things. Things that I had yet to learn. But I knew some things.I knew I needed to be more considered in the things I said. Internal. We didn't have a TV at home when I was growing up, and when we were at home and not out together on one of our outings to the park or the movies and the like, mom used to read a lot of magazines full of mushy romantic love stories and articles about rich and glamorous Hollywood stars and their escapades.Sometimes she would play cards or board games (like Gin andParchesi) with me to pass the time away. But her favorite pastime was to play records of romantic songs and ballads of that day and dance slowly by herself with her eyes semi-closed and this dreamy, languid expression on her face pretending she was dancing with a man. I used to love to watch her dance that way and wished that I were the man in her arms.By the time I was nine years old I had grown just tall enough that mom started to ask me to dance with her when she would play her records. She said that she would teach me how to be an expert dancer so that I would be a big hit with all the girls when I started dating.I wasn't.
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