Eric and I met at home for lunch.
We had one hour.
We rarely have time together.
We knew what had to be done.
No sooner in the door, we were draped over each other, kissing passionately on the couch.
Eric took me by the hand and led me to the counter top in the kitchen.
"I'm sorry I let you down," he said reaching for the paddle (highly effective cheese board). "I should have done this earlier, before you got to this point."
He was referring to my overloaded brain. I do more in one day than many do in a week. I love everything I'm into but the pile is so high and the list is so long, if I don't have time to close out one thing in my brain before moving to the next, I go into this frantic anxious mode and I'm done for. We both knew I was there.
"Raise your dress," he said and I shook my head, being the "controlling" one.
"You're getting ten," he stated, bending me over the tiles. My dress stayed in place and the paddle landed first on the left cheek, then the right; alternating until all ten were fulfilled.
I turned and kissed his mouth hard. My bottom stung a tiny bit, but more than anything, my desire for him was fueled and our tongues danced together for a sweet moment in time.
"Raise your dress," Eric said sternly, and turned me toward the tile a second time.
"You just spanked me!" I gasped, at his unchanging expression.
"NOW," he commanded, turning me again toward the tiles. "That was for you. This is from me. Now raise your dress before it gets worse."
No longer being the "controlling" one, I found myself in the same position as a moment before, with a ten-fold pain level increase searing it's way across my bare cheeks. Again, there were ten.
"You're not crying," he commented and I was surprised. My ass was on fire but I was no where near tears.
The other night, I read a blog someone had written about using the silent spanking implement- the twirling stick off a mini-blinds. My apologies to the author - the exact site escapes me right now. Eric took the suggestion to heart and following round two, ordered me to remove the stick from the kitchen blinds. He tapped it across my already blazing ass and in quick strokes down my leg.
"Hey!" I yelped, pulling away and reminding him I was wearing a dress and had to return to work.
He grinned and said, "Oh, sorry. Got carried away." but then marched me upstairs to our room. He made me look at my bottom in the mirror and pointed out a slim red welt the flick of that little twirl stick had left behind.
Face down on the bed, two more strikes with the stick and my dress was off. Eric kissed the welts and commented on how hot my skin had become. We messed around a bit; we really never get enough time. Back over the bed, out came the hairbrush and five hard swats later, I was escorted to the corner.
"Stand here and think about pressing straight ahead rather than weaving all over the place," he said turning me to the wall. "When you hear the front door close, you can return to work."
Another nine hours at the office.
Both cheeks are splattered with bruises and I felt them all evening at my desk.
Eric is silly and happy. Work suddenly isn't dragging him down. He is chatty and playful, fun and romantic even though it is the middle of a long difficult week and nothing has improved other than his outlook.
I am the same as he. The stresses remain the same, but I feel relaxed and light, happy and unstoppable.
The spankings hurt. There was kissing and playtime in between but there is no question, these were not erotic love taps. My ass is bruised. I can feel it every time I sit down. But the euphoria on both of our parts; this must be what everyone talks about.