Friday, July 17, 2015

TTWD; first time

Eric is out of town.
He's gone for 36 hours.
I'm sitting in our bed, blogging
with the imprint of his belt bruised across my left butt cheek.
This thing we do....

I'm Amy, the overachiever.  Three teenagers, a full time job and back in school.  This summer, I'm stuck in a class that is beyond difficult.  It has thrown us all.  I've become short tempered, barely sleep, and am plagued with headaches and leg cramps.  I have no time to breathe; miss the kids, neglect the house and snap at the littlest things.  Throughout it all, Eric has held my hand, encouraged me to continue and even added two hours to his daily commute just to walk me to class.  This has gone on for over two weeks.

Five days ago, there was a change.  It wasn't the class or the amount of things on my plate.  It wasn't my job or the time I have with the boys.  Week three, I was suddenly happier, lighter and more self assured.  I rolled with the assignments and joked about my difficulties rather than getting run over by them.  I slept better, quit yelling at everyone and all of my health issues vanished. I asked Eric if he noticed a difference.  By day three, he had a theory.

"Are you taking something?" he asked, curious but thankful for the return of his even-keeled girl.

"No," was the honest reply.  "I quit taking something."

And so the story went.  "The first day of class, I psyched myself out and rather than see how I could do on my own, I asked a guy at the gym to give me a bottle of uppers; a dietary supplement that would promote weight loss, increase energy and allow me to achieve the unachievable.  It wasn't until the third week that I realized the side effects were what was throwing me off instead of it being the stress of everything I was doing."

His reply?

"Oh my God, Girl.  You are so going to get it."

He had me on the counter, at the kitchen sink.  I was seated with my legs wrapped around his middle as he lectured about the dangers of taking a stimulant.  He went over the central nervous system, the apparent mood swings and the physical dangers of becoming dehydrated and jacked up to the point that sleep was never an option.  Then he bent me over the couch, and I heard the clink of his buckle and the flip, flap, flip as his thick weaved leather belt slipped out from under the loops on his pants.

I tried to stand.

"Eric.  It's my first time!" I exclaimed, a sudden panic that he had gone straight for the belt.

"You're going to learn this lesson quick," he said and the belt came crashing down across my denim shorts with an incredibly loud snap.  "Will this be a reminder?" he asked as the leather struck again.

I giggled.  I couldn't believe it.  The sound was so intense but the sensation was practically nonexistent.  It wasn't an insult, nor an "egging on".  It was just a simple giggle.

I'm not exactly sure how Eric did it as smoothly as he did, but my shorts were suddenly around my ankles and my torso was pressed even further over the couch.  The belt stung, no chance of another giggle.  He slapped my bare skin over and over; alternating from one cheek to the other.  Like a spray of red ants, the heat spread and grew.  At one point, I threw my hand back and covered my burning flesh.

"Move your hand, Amy," he commanded in a stern authoritative voice I had only heard when he was making an executive decision at work.  "NOW."

I complied.  I took the belting.  I took it and a moment later, I found myself led to a corner in the living room where I was ordered to stand and think about what I'd done.

Eric stepped back and watched: me.  He surveyed my bottom, stained red from the smacks of his belt.  He didn't last long.  A minute or two and he was rubbing my skin, kissing my neck and asking if I was okay. We sat on the couch and he held me so close I felt like we would never untangle.

"I love you," he said.  "I love you and I don't want you to ever take anything like that again."

The whole thing lasted less than an hour and then, he went to work. And now he's out of town.

I have one bruise.  It's on my left cheek; dark, the width of his belt.  I know he'll be surprised.  He was so careful not to hurt me.  He made his point, but he was kind.

I could have taken more.

Truthfully, I would have taken more.

This thing we do... intriguing.

1 comment:

  1. Hey Amy

    Sorry I missed this post originally. It takes a while for the men to get caught up with how much we can 'take'. Be prepared to almost comfort Eric about the bruise. I used to bruise TERRIBLY at the start. Sadly, your body gets used to that. I say sadly because now my spankings are WAY more intense and I don't have anything to show for it! Bwahahaa...

    Anyway, this is where life MIGHT start to get a bit more complicated, as you said you can take more, and he MIGHT be thinking "Omg I bruised here". Talk it out ( if you haven't already). So many of us go down this road at the start~ most of us look back and laugh at the fact that our partners used to be upset about a little bruising...LOL..

    Okay, off to read your next post!



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