Sunday, January 31, 2016

The saga continues; Eric is out the door again

Thursday, Eric came home and we spent lunch together.

Our reunion became a threesome; Eric, Amy and Sir Strap. Ha!

We also had a threesome in the bathtub. Eric, Amy and Mr. Bubble! Ha, ha!

Anyway, I had a late night meeting so I wasn't home until after my darling had gone to bed.

Friday morning, Eric left early and I slept an extra hour so we missed each other but spoke on my drive to the office.

"Sweetheart," he began, "You know we're not done, correct?"

I, naively, had no clue what he was talking about.

"When I get home today, I expect the strap to be back on the entry table. We will do this everyday until you make it to ten."

The idea of the strap again is horrific but at the same time, the butterflies in my stomach, blush on my cheeks, and wetness between my legs indicated I'm willing. I am also determined to handle it and put an end to my incessant habit of negative overthinking.

"This time I'm going to give you a warm up with the paddle, jeans on.  Then you're going over my knee, just panties. Tell me you want this, honey."

Hmmm.  Tell him I want this.  How do I say that?  Yes I want this but I don't want to say it.

I didn't answer.

"Tell me honey." Eric rarely, uh, NEVER, asks a question and then drops it if I don't answer.

"I do." I squeak so softly I can hardly hear my own voice.

"I want to hear you say yes," he prompts.

I clear my throat and pull up to the office building.

"Yes." I say.

"Yes what?" he comes back with.

"Yes I do," I reply.

"Yes what?" he asks again.

Eric really wants me to call him Sir. I should. I ALMOST want to. I still can't do it.  Silly.

Anyway, the long story short is I spent all morning anticipating our night and weekend together. Instead, I got this text around 1pm.

"Honey, Andy dropped out so I have to handle his region. I leave at 4. I'll call you on the way to the airport. ILY"

My mind went bananas.  Over six days, we literally had one waking hour together, one! I was UPSET and SAD and HURT and DISAPPOINTED.

Eric called, as promised.  The sound in his voice immediately changed my entire attitude because he was UPSET and SAD and HURT and DISAPPOINTED. I think this is the first time he's ever shown me how much he is let down when work takes away from our time together.

Depending on how things go, I might get Eric back on Monday or it could be as long as Thursday. Between my threesome with Sir Strap and the realization that Eric is equally bummed that we aren't together, I think I'll be fine this time.  Eric is getting into ttwd and I'm so glad we are both on the same page.

The last thing my hubby said on the phone was:  "I know you want this (ttwd) and when we first looked into it, I was open to trying it out.  But today, I wanted it.  Today, I craved it for me and for you."

Now that, is reassuring. (I wrote it down, so I remember, and so all of you can remind me if I flip out again.)

Have a happy weekend Blogfriends and if your husbands are home, enjoy the time together! Get a little playful and be a little naughty. LOVE your relationships over-the-top today.

Meanwhile, I think I will get a massage. Yay!

Amy

Saturday, January 30, 2016

The lesson; how the strap and my ass went down

Eric flew in at 10 and told me to meet him at the house on my lunch break.  He was eager to see me. Sent texts like, "I can't wait to hold you." "Kiss U!" and "I miss you Sweet Pea."

I had spent five days overthinking everything and putting words in Eric's mouth.  They weren't the kind of words he was texting. This habit of catastrophic thinking is something we are working on together, to end. Eric was clear in his direction, every time it happens, "Leave the strap in the entry where I take off my shoes and I'll know."

After five days of negative thoughts and then reading how excited Eric was to be back, I really didn't want to sour the reunion with a confession and consequences but at the same time, I thought if I didn't tell him right away, it would be like hiding something from him, and then I'd feel even worse, and then I wouldn't know how to bring it up, and then I'd hide it more, and then, and then, and then (overthinking always takes place in long run-on sentences that would kill any half decent English teacher).

I got home before Eric did.

I put the strap on the table in our entry.

I sat, at the top of the stairs, holding onto the slats below the railing (kind of like looking through bars of a jail cell) and watched as my handsome husband came through the door.

Suitcase down, coat off, shoes off, pockets emptied. I felt like I was going to explode. I was so happy to see him and so afraid of his reaction it was like being back in college when I accidentally discovered the clash between no-doz and alcohol - upper and downer combining in my stomach.

Without saying a word, Eric took the strap in his hand and walked steadily up the stairs until he was towering over me.  He reached out his hand and I swallowed away the lump in my throat, allowing him to pull me to my feet.  Our fingers laced around each other and I squeezed tight as he guided us to our room.

Strap on the bed, Eric took me to the large closet mirror (I HATE looking at myself in a mirror.) and slowly began to undress me.  He took his time undoing my zipper and pealing my dress down my shoulders and back.  Then he carefully folded it over the back of the spanking chair, undid my bra, slipped off my panties and placed them beside the dress.  A quick kiss and he held me in front of the mirror.

"Look at yourself," he commanded. "You are a beautiful girl."

I felt so exposed.  I closed my eyes but he wanted them open.  I looked at the floor but he wanted me forward.  I squirmed and I blushed. He waited me out.

"Where is your hairbrush?" he asked and the lump returned to my throat.  Was that his idea of a warm up to the strap?

A minute later, hairbrush in hand, Eric was... brushing my hair! I breathed. I relaxed. I unwound a bit.

"Come on," his voice was stern this time. "Over the bed."

Eric positioned me up on my elbows with my bottom out. There was no lecture, no speech; nothing but the slap of the strap across my cheeks. I couldn't believe how much it stung.  The second strike was way worse and I stood upright, pressing into his body with my ass blazing on fire.

What's interesting here is Eric did not comfort me.  He didn't put his arms around me or say something reassuring or sweet.  He stood rock solid, like a wall behind me, and waited until I settled myself and returned to the position he had originally created. I can still imagine his body behind mine.

Three, four and five hits with the strap, I couldn't tell you what happened. I know I stood up a couple of times and was put face down again.  We both knew I couldn't handle anymore.  Eric finished by spanking my ass with his hand, to the point that I could make out his fingers on my right cheek. I got two more with the strap and spent five minutes in the corner "under thinking" the moment.

Eric pulled back the covers on the bed and undressed so we were both naked. I was instructed to lay on my stomach on the bed and he took a red sharpie and drew a heart on my ass.

"That's to remind you I am doing this out of love, not to hurt you," he said and then took a picture with the strap as another reminder.

I've failed to mention the passionate kissing, fucking, bath and pleasure that followed this entire event because that would be far too personal but suffice it to say, I was very happy to have my Eric home. ;)

Amy

Thursday, January 28, 2016

Bye Bye Crazy Daisy!

Before:

Eric will probably tell me he's quitting his job here, and moving to the Northern branch.  He'll end our marriage and go build an amazing life without the drama of me.  And, if he didn't figure that out on his own, I'll tell him all the reasons I'm not good for him so he can go do the right thing for himself.


After:

Eric absolutely loves me and our relationship.  He cannot promise what the future will bring, but he can guarantee that we will make the big life changing decisions together, 51/49 percent.  The strap will only be used to stop me from overthinking and putting words in his mouth.  He will always show me how much he loves me after he's made his point.  We will continue to work on this together.


The take away:

Playful spankings are the way to go. Role playing, sexy fun and even the occasional reset. Correction spankings? The belt is one thing.  Even the hairbrush can leave a lasting mark.  But that darn strap?!
That strap hurts like hell.  Eric was being kind with his little "taste of Sir Strap" the other day because two swats down today and I was ready to shed my skin.  I managed only seven of the ten, with a long break in between five and seven.  He finished me off with his hand but promised, we'll be adding to the count each time this happens again.

The other, more important take away:

I am not in this alone and have truly found the man who wants my life to be fabulous.  The amount of love we can shower on each other in less than an hour (lunch break), even when it starts off with a consequence, is incredible.  I need to stop worrying about quantity (So he travels every week, I'm in school and have a job every week) and realize that the quality he brings to my life is stellar. I've just got to learn to shut out the fearful side and let the grateful me, blossom.

Wednesday, January 27, 2016

The strap is on the table

I will poke the bear.  I will taunt and tease, push and pull, play something up for Eric's attention and that sweet smack of his hand. Believe it or not, I am an extremely lighthearted and playful girl.

This is not that.

Eric comes home Thursday morning.  Thirty hours and counting. I've spent almost the whole five days he's been gone living out in my head our relationship from start to demise.  He has loved me, left me, cherished me, abandoned me, held me, hurt me... the list goes on and on.  Again, it is all in my head.

I went to bed at 7pm because I was driving myself crazy; five days of overthinking and putting words in his mouth, exactly as he warned me not to do.

So, do I follow through with his request? Leave the strap on the table, if I overthought (which I did), and face the music? Or do I back peddle? Tell him I don't want to do ttwd after all; this being the first time I feel deeply exposed, raw, and vulnerable?

Let the overthinking continue. "Why set myself up like this? Sure, I could rely on my husband to help me overcome the crap from my past, free me from a habit of catastrophic thinking, and love me into a future of trust and companionship so the carefree joyful side of me can thrive. Or I could just build that wall of protection and bury the fears that constantly bubble up inside, rejecting him and the part of me desperate to believe in us."

Crazy Daisy, the nickname didn't come out of thin air!

Midnight and I'm wide awake.  This epiphany is fresh in my mind:  My first husband had two moods; good and bad, with nothing in between.  Every single day he would go to work and come home in one or the other. That is a problem in itself but multiply it a million times because he never communicated why he was feeling, acting, behaving one way or the other.  We were married so when he wouldn't talk to me about what was going on, I assumed it was something I had done and would go over-the-top trying to make everything right. In retrospect, his moods rarely had anything to do with me, but I played along every single time. He's been out of my life for a decade but check out the habit that remained; daily fear that my husband will leave the house as one man and come back as another.

Eric is nothing like my first husband. He leaves for days on end for his job and I get afraid that he is going to come back full of regret for our relationship, feeling differently about me and resenting that we ever met.  He has never done that.  He has never said anything even close to that, nor has he ever acted remorseful about anything regarding us. Not once in three years of this marriage has he "changed his mind" yet I still panic and put us through the "are you sure" bit every time he comes home. (He even joked with me last week about standing at the alter when the priest said, "Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" and he said, "I do." and I mouthed, "Are you sure?")

The strap is on the table.

This spanking, I do not want.

This spanking is going to hurt no matter how kind or gentle Eric is.  It goes much deeper than strap to ass.

I understand, now, why I do this overthinking and constant questioning bit. As vulnerable as I feel, I'm determined to let Eric lead me through this.  It's a habit I will gladly shed.

Thank you for all of your support, my blogging friends... this journey is not easy but I see the value and all of your stories help me to push forward.

Amy

Monday, January 25, 2016

The A-Z list of Eric

Trying to STOP overthinking and refrain from putting words in Eric's mouth. Abby suggested I make an A to Z list of things I love about him and recite it to change my focus when I become Crazy Daisy.  Today was better.  A-Z was fun. Thank you Abby, and everyone else who offered really supportive advice.  Amy

Amy loves Eric
Blogging Blowjobs Birdbath
Crazy
Daisy
Eric loves Amy
Fifty-one/forty-nine
Good Girl
Holding Hands
Irresistible ILY
JAG
Kiss U
Love
Make me
NOW
OTK
Pretty peach, phatty
Quickie
Relinquish
Sexy squishy spankable Sweetpea
Ttwd
Upstairs!
Vulnerable V
Want wet waxed
XxxMas
Young lady
Zip ties, Zippers

Sunday, January 24, 2016

Somebody shut off the darn valve in my head, please!

I need a psychiatric plumber.

WHERE IS THE SHUT OFF VALVE?

Eric was very clear, "Do not put words in my mouth and do not overthink what I've said."

He's gone; his regular weekend shift, but this time it is extended for a three day company retreat.  We talked it through.  He did all of his best reassuring things. I promised I was fine.  Then the emotional overthinking valve in my head cracked.

Eric has not been happy at this branch for some time now, I tell myself.  His boss, who he has worked for more than 30 years, wants him to permanently stay in the Northern Office, I tell myself.  Rather than come home tomorrow, they will be at a three day conference together.  Eric needs this break.  He was so unhappy last week, he actually talked about quitting (For a second when someone really pushed him at the office). He was so angry last week, he actually talked about WWIII (Because he wasn't going to do something that made no sense, even if he had to go to battle over it).  He was so sick last week, he actually went to a doctor.  (That's right, a MAN voluntarily went to a DOCTOR!) I know how much he needs this break and I genuinely want it for him so I was truly supportive.

Why then, just 24 hours in, does the darn valve in my head turn me into Crazy Daisy?!

It started like this:

I want to lose 13 pounds and everything around me today is sunny and melting.  Perfect time for a ten mile hike.  It's gorgeous outside.  I'm dying to tell Eric about it because he would love being out there with me, holding hands and enjoying the babbling brooks, moss covered trees and beautiful surroundings.  Then, I start thinking about what Eric must be doing.  The story I tell myself is his boss will be spending three days trying to convince him to quit this branch, which would destroy our relationship. The boss' points will include: Eric will make double the money, and he's into money.  He will have half the stress, and he hates stress.  He will be closer to all of his favorite people to work with, and he is a social guy. He loves the Northern Office, he has history at the Northern Office. His travel time will be drastically reduced.  HE WILL BE HAPPIER.

Half way through my walk, the valve has completely broken and flooded my head to the point that the boss (who may or may not be having this conversation with him) has me convinced it's the best thing for him.  I can't move and go to the Northern Office (a fact). So, the story I tell myself is, it's not fair that I hold Eric back.  Now he's stuck at this branch because of me and I'm holding him back from the happy life he's spent his entire career creating and pretty soon I'll just be a burden to him and he'll resent me and wish we'd never met and the only way I can keep that from happening is to save him from this mess and push him away so he can enjoy his life rather than have it ruined by me.

Mind you, Eric never said he was looking forward to a break from me (on the contrary, he said he loves me and will be dreaming about me the whole time he is gone) or that he wants to move (we both want to move but he has always said he will wait until my schooling is done).  He merely said work shouldn't shorten his lifespan so it was a good time to step away from the Southern Office for three days.

Nearing the end of the trail, I'd convinced myself that not only is the story in my head accurate, but that Eric always does what's best for everyone else, leaving himself off the list. Since I actually KNOW what is best for everyone, it is my job to step in and show him how much better his life is without me.  I picture myself saying, "I hate it when I'm always right but I do know what is best for you." (Ironic when I'm always wrong about this crap floating around in just MY head.)

Why on earth do I do this to myself?! It's not like the guy can't make up his own mind.  He's the HOH for goodness sake.  He can make up both of our minds!

I'm writing blogland because I'm trying to fight this - I want to STOP overthinking and freaking myself out over something that most likely isn't even happening.  (I can hear his voice right now, "Stop it AMY.")

The last thing Eric said to me before he left was, "When I walk in the door after my trip, if your mind has gone haywire again, I expect the strap to be in the entry where I take off my shoes.  That will be how you tell me every time you start down that path. We are putting an end to this pattern."  He's not playing around. He is being totally serious.

I'm pleading with you to help me stop this insanity.  How do you turn the darn valve off? I keep telling myself this is a story but I must be an incredible story teller because I am convinced Eric will be completely different when he comes back, will have changed his mind about how he feels about us and I'll be all alone again. Ugh!

I really don't want to put that strap on the table.

Eric comes back on Thursday. It's only Sunday.

Tell me there is a shut off valve that doesn't involve Eric tanning my ass.

Amy


Saturday, January 23, 2016

"No more toys!" Really?! Ugh. But Valentine's Day....

Eric bought Sir Strap (which he now refers to as Sir Spank-a-lot); and he's talking about getting a leather stamp to mark it every time he has to use it on me. I love the idea but after the other day, don't plan on his needing that stamp.

I bought a spanking thing that could be used for a light warm up or as a bondage rope with a handle. While at it, I also got an old fashioned Catholic school "ruler", a bright red acrylic paddle and a folded leather piece.

"No more toys!" was Eric's response, though he thoroughly enjoyed opening the box of goodies with me.

"Why?  You don't want to do this anymore?"  I got that uneasy pit of fear in my stomach; the one that overthinks every statement Eric makes and could land me another visit from his newest "not for fun, hurts like hell" implement.

Eric looked at me like I had lost it.

"Are you kidding me?!" he asked.  "Is that a real question?"

Then he proceeded to remind me of the seven or eight toys we haven't had a chance to try out since his birthday in November!

"No more toys until we use everything we already have."

Done.  There is that 51% - no room for discussion.

I know he's right but Valentine's Day - hello!


Wednesday, January 20, 2016

Spanked; a taste of Sir Strap

Eric was working late tonight so I planned a relaxing bubble bath with my favorite tunes and a candle or two... he actually beat me home.

"What happened?" I asked, suspicious of that look he had; the same one he has when I've done something he feels the need to personally correct.

"Upstairs, Amy Lynn," he commanded and I knew I was in for it. I also knew I hadn't done anything.

In our room, I saw THIS placed strategically at the end of the bed. (Internal comment "OH SHIT")
"I was thinking about yesterday," Eric said, unzipping my pants and disrobing me as he talked.  "I really believe your overthinking and misinterpreting my words is a slippery slope that could be very detrimental to our marriage."

By this time, he was carefully folding each of my garments and placing them on a bench at the foot of our bed.  My mouth was clamped shut, no doubt an innately protective response, preventing me from making whatever this situation was even worse.

"We have had numerous spanking sessions since we started down this road but your blog was correct,"

(Side note: one of the few moments I swallowed hard and wished he hadn't read my post) 

"we have played a lot and both thoroughly enjoyed it.  However, when you start putting words in my mouth, and threatening our happiness by creating your own version of what I think, you need a spanking that is clearly not for fun.  Tonight, you meet Sir Strap."

It's hard to believe I still hadn't uttered a single word but I stayed the course as he bent me over the bed and picked up his new toy.

"Legs together, bottom out," he said tapping on my hiney while lining up for a direct hit.  His aim was impeccable and one swat, I was clenching and attempting to meld with the mattress.  Two more swats and my mouth suddenly woke up.

"Eric!  Ow! That hurts!  And I didn't do anything.  I haven't run off in my head.  We're good.  I'm straight!"

Eric put the strap down and used his hands to swing my hips and his target back into position.

"I know you haven't Sweetheart, but I decided it would be good for you to get a taste of what will happen the next time you do put words in my mouth.  Now, bottom out.  Hold it there or we are starting over."

My mouth got the message and so did my ass.  Ten swats later, there was a lovely shade of crimson red perfectly painted across each cheek.

"That'll do," Eric said, walking me over to his favorite corner.  "Stand here and let this sink in because it'll only get used for true consequences and if you're a quick learner, you may never feel it again." 

(HA! Who is he kidding?)

Then he sat, next to my clothes, and admired his handiwork while I stood, facing a wall and reciting to myself, "the story in my head, the story in my head, the story in my head".  Willie's article could very well be my saving grace on this one.  Not wanting to taunt that fella; Sir Strap.  OUCH!

Amy

Tuesday, January 19, 2016

A message to Eric

You are, my love, straight as an arrow.

Seriously.

Amy

You will receive consequences when...ttwd officially on the books

Today was the day Eric put his 51% foot down and clearly stated, "There will be real consequences, and I will spank your ass every single time you do this because it hurts you and it hurts us."  (Does he realize, that could be daily?!)

Six months on the ttwd path, we play a lot.  I poke the bear.  He takes the bait.  We role play, giggle a ton, test out some new toys or implements and usually end up in bed.  I think on two occasions, Eric has truly punished me to make a point; which he did rather effectively.  Other times, I've needed what we call a "reset" to reduce my stress level and even out the gazillion things in my head and on my plate. I've gotten to where I can ask for resets and he's always come through knowing what a huge help it is for me to regain focus for my own success.  

I've read about lists of do's/don'ts that some couples have agreed upon.  I've heard about wives being punished for things like texting and driving, not getting her chores/lists done, or missing a deadline. Some have an HOH, others a Master, and so on. We aren't there yet. I have a past, not ttwd/dd (thank you to everyone who reminded me of the difference between an abusive relationship and this), where I lost control of my own ability to decide anything and the result was my being completely dependent on someone who took pleasure in my pain.  

My fear: becoming dependent on Eric, beyond what is a healthy give-and-take.

Eric's fear: me feeling like he is controlling me, rather than being a strong masculine support person.

The reality: we are in a very loving relationship and both work daily to better each other's lives

A lot of background to simply say, we have our first official "thou shalt not" on the ttwd books.

Communication is key - you have all said that.  Well, I have a very creative mind and when Eric and I are out of communication (which happens when he travels, which is almost every week), I have a habit of taking bits and pieces of our conversations and "filling in" the blanks by overthinking his comments.

Example:  We were apart this weekend.  I was on an emotional roller coaster with my boy going back to college.  Eric stepped in with a surprise reset and I was off to a good start.  Somewhere along the way, during the three days we were apart, I figured out that he didn't want a ttwd/dd relationship.  (You should have seen the look on his face when I announced that this morning. Priceless.)

"Explain," he said.

Easy enough. Last week, when I suggested I needed a reset, Eric told me he wanted me to know that if somewhere down the road I got to a place where I didn't "need" resets anymore, he would still love me just as much as he does today.  With all of the sincerity in the world, he said, "I love YOU, whether we are practicing ttwd or not."  He was being reassuring and sweet but my brain turned it into "he doesn't want to do this and is paving the way to end it."

Am I the only girl in the world who twists things up like this?

Eric didn't think about it long before saying, "There will be real consequences every single time you do this because it hurts you and it hurts us."

Then he asked what I thought the consequences should be and for the first time, I did the right thing and let go. (Like he would have let me decide my own consequences to begin with, ha!) I hate that I lose hours and hours of my life worrying about Eric thinking something that he isn't and if he can get me to quit doing that, I'm all in.

"That should be your decision," I said it and I meant it.

"I think every single time you put words in my mouth or make-up how you think I feel or what you think I want; I am going to spank your ass and give you corner time and anything else I see fit," was the short answer.  "We are done with this, young lady.  No more interpreting what I mean.  If you need clarification, ask."

Then we shared a piece of peach pie and I relaxed knowing that Eric will not let me run off to a scary place in my head that doesn't exist.  We both like my independence and he doesn't want to be responsible for controlling my daily life; but there is something extremely comforting about a man stepping in and taking charge of keeping us real.

Tonight, I can't wait to curl up in Eric's arms, nestled between crisp clean sheets (Isn't that the best?!) with a clear head.  No more questioning.  Maybe this is all about learning to trust.  Wait, is this the vulnerability you all keep mentioning?  Sometimes I feel like I'm way out in left field.  

Saturday, January 16, 2016

"You're really going to spank me?! You don't have to. It's the thought that counts."

It's an emotionally charged weekend with Eric back at work and me delivering a boy back to college. Not a problem.  I've found peace and life is dandy.  Nothing rocking this girls boat - feet firmly planted, all is well.

This morning, Eric watched me over breakfast.  More like, studied me.  I was quiet, a little.  Not pouting or sulky; just quiet.

Off to work, we texted a bit and Eric told me he had one last meeting and would hit the road.  We'd said our good-byes from home and I was fine; just another day.  I sent a good night voicemail he could find after he got to the hotel that went something like, "Isn't it crazy to think we've been together all week and we both know I could use a reset, but even though you can have me begging you to stop in less than a minute, we just couldn't get to it?  Oh well.  Have a great night honey.  I love you!"

The day continued.  I didn't think another thing about it.  Just worked and mentally prepped for the long drive ahead of me.

Eric called.  "Tell your boss you need to go to the bank with me real quick to sign some papers.  You'll be back in twenty minutes."

I was confused.  I thought he had left already.  What did we have to sign, anyway?  I did as he asked and made my way to the parking lot where he waited.

"Get in." His voice was firm and serious.

"What do we..."

Eric cut me off.

"So you think you need a reset, do you?"

A chill ran up my spine, my stomach flipped, my palms started to sweat and my face turned that heated red.

"You listened to your message?!  I was just..."

Eric cut me off again.

"You were just mouthing off, thinking I was a thousand miles away and couldn't get to you."

I swallowed hard.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to spank your ass!" he stated, pulling down a back road near a fairly empty industrial park.  He stopped the car and looked me straight in the face.

"Over my knee," he commanded.

Just then a car parked next to us and Eric was forced to drive on.

"You're really going to spank me?!" My voice sounded almost challenging so I quickly back peddled in a softer, more appreciative tone.  "You don't have to.  It's the thought that counts."

"HA! Oh no, sweetheart.  There is no thought counting here.  I'm going to redden your ass and have you back to work in less than twenty minutes."

Two blocks later, I was across the center console, dress up and butt exposed, his hand spanking my bottom with such intense rapid fire I couldn't take in enough air to squeal, let alone yell.

We headed back toward the office.  My butt stung like it had been attacked by a whole swarm of bees; and I couldn't stop grinning.  Eric was grinning too.

"So you liked that, didn't you?" he said and I shook my head.

"I hated it," I lied a little, as I really do hate the actual pain during a spanking but LOVE the sense of mentally letting go and that physical reminder afterwards.

"Spread your legs," he commanded and with his right hand, slapped my inner left thigh so hard I could make out all five of his fingers.

"OW!" I cried and then, suddenly, those very same fingers were under my thong and inside my lower lips. I was so wet.  A dead give away; apparently my pussy also has a low IQ (see cute post by http://submissivelittlegirl.blogspot.com/).

"Wish I had time to fuck you now," Eric said and we were back at the job site.  One kiss and life returned to normal. However, I was glowing and stress-free and looking forward to time with my son and more importantly, I was down right, la la land, satisfied, secure, and happy.

I don't understand why that works, but it really truly does.

THANK YOU ERIC!  How do you know me so well?

Amy

Saturday, January 9, 2016

Vulnerability and submissiveness; what are you afraid of?

I am afraid, and I have reason to be.

Pre-Eric

I got lost.  Literally, lost myself.

It took a four year period, during which time I gave up my ability to make my own decisions.  I had routines that had to be followed, lists that must be completed and bruises upon bruises upon bruises from extreme mental and physical beatings I endured in order to get through one more day, one more hour, one more minute.  We kept it all hidden; both the bruises and my obedience.  It was not sexual - we were not sexual partners.  This was not my husband.  This was a man who worked his way into my life and into my world by very carefully planting seeds of doubt and fear in my head, studying me and worming his way into my brain.

My marriage ended.

My career ended.

Throughout it all, I believed I was being submissive to the man who was saving me.

My faith ended; the night he raped and assaulted me, and I didn't fight back.  My mind separated from my body and I lived as a hollow panic stricken adrenaline induced anxiety ridden basket case for nine months until I had the nerve to go to court because he was at it again, with someone else.

Society is not kind and in a small town, many judge.  Many reject.  Many lash out cruelly.  I hid.  I hid behind fat clothes, locked doors and shame.  I hated myself, my life, my world.  I had constant thoughts of suicide running through my head but would not, could not, do that to my children.

All I believed in, ended.

Rock bottom.  Baby steps brought me a new career.  Baby steps brought me strength.  Baby steps brought me a chance to make it on my own.  I avoided men.  Rejected love.  Worked to be what my children needed.  Time heals, in some ways.

I tried romance once again.  Two years, more damaging than what I had experienced before.  No beatings. No submission. But a continuous verbal onslaught against all vulnerability I possessed.  "Too fat, too ugly, too dumb" the list goes on until I finally kicked him out.  Then he got really mean.  Attacked my relationships; stalked me, threatened me.  More shame.  More grief.  More to hate and hide.

I began self discipline.  I began to exercise daily.  I began to rebuild me.  Slowly.  Daily.  Fighting to make it completely on my own.  I would never, ever need anyone else again.  It wasn't worth the risk.

I met Eric in a work setting.

We became friends.

He listened to my goals and we shared common interests.

He became a cheerleader for me and we spent more and more time together.

Before we even kissed, he told me one afternoon that he loved me.  I almost killed him.  The next day, pink dress and dark sunglasses, I blasted him.  How dare he say those words.  How dare he destroy a perfectly good friendship by throwing down such a ludicrous statement.  I was not lovable and he was in no position to say such a thing to begin with.  That meeting could have easily been the last time we spoke.

Eric and I have been married three years now and we are six months into This Thing We Do.  He is dominant, but not for control.  It is more a show of support for a path I was already on.  He is helping erase the wounds of my past.  He is changing the scared little girl inside of me by helping to grow the woman on the outside.  He is reigniting trust and faith, pumping me full of love a little bit at a time, day after day after day.

I am still afraid, and I have reason to be.

I love him.  It's me that I struggle with.

Eric loves Amy. He wants me to be happy and free.

Change is happening; with every conversation, every experience, and every moment that I give in and face another one of those fears.  My deepest, is that he will leave and I will slip back.

I am afraid, and I have reason to be.

But I'm willing to take this chance,

and it seems,

so is he.

Friday, January 8, 2016

Do you want to play "spanking" or do you want authentic ttwd?

This is the question we discussed at length and quite frankly, I think we still have yet to come up with an answer.  I want to have fun in every aspect of my life.  I didn't get to play much as a child so now, I crave it and incorporate it anywhere I can.

Eric had a completely different childhood than me but is also very playful.  He seems to have a better sense of boundaries than I do and I guess that's where ttwd becomes more authentic.  I need to research some more.  I guess I still don't get the whole ttwd thing.  This was a horrible week and our little trip to the ranch didn't feel like play or anything fun, but it ended with a closeness I'm not sure I've ever felt with anyone before.  Eric is gone for work again and I'm at home, with a very bruised bottom and a ton of questions in my head.

Today, when Eric left, I told him its so hard to have him gone I just wished we could be together all the time. He started playing out a scenario by leaving me a message and then texting me at work.  Thought I'd share... :) Who knows if we will ever get to act it out but my day without him took on a whole new feel as we played off one another's words.

I woke up to the following message:

"The court room was silent as the defendant stared at her feet.  Amy Lynn, we find you guilty of all charges and you are sentenced to seven days in the county jail.  The only female jailer had just gone home ill an hour beforehand so Eric had to take her in.  At the jail, he ordered to to remove her clothes so he could search her cavities.  Amy took everything off except for her bra and panties.  I said everything! Eric growled.  Now take them off or I'll cut them off.  Then, when he had Amy bend over, he saw she was wearing a butt plug. He knew right then that this girl needed to get fucked."

Let the texting begin: Amy is in plain type, Eric is in bold type (It's fun playing off each other - try it!)

Eric sat at his desk pouring over reports; his mind fighting to stay on task and forget the little hussy at the jail. His phone beeped and he paused just a moment to glance at the screen.  "I need a big strong man to fuck my ass." Eric swallowed.  Those were the exact words Amy Lynn had whispered in his ear from behind the bars.

He pushed his report off to the side of his desk and grabbed his car keys.

At the jail, he showed his badge and walked through the dark passages, his cock growing hard in his wool uniform pants.  Through the bars, he saw her, sitting under a patch of light that reflected off streaks of blonde in her otherwise chestnut brown hair.  Big blue eyes looked hungrily in his direction and she smiled.  "You got my message," she stated.

Yah, I got the message he replied.  I wasn't going to come but I thought you needed to be straightened out.

Eric entered the cell and closed the bars behind him.  Slowly, he removed his belt, half wanting to beat her ass and half wanting to fuck it.

He grabbed her by the hair and whispered into her ear, I'm going to teach you a lesson.  He pulled out a set of handcuffs and cuffed her to the bar in her cell, then pulled her pants down exposing her ass.

Amy looked at the devastatingly handsome jailer and butterflies came to life in her gut.  "I knew you wanted it too." she said and he slapped her right cheek so hard, she caught her breath and a perfect hand print raised on the otherwise pale skin of her bottom.

Over and over he forcefully wailed on her ass until it started to welt and bruise.  I hope you learn your lesson young lady he said.

Amy could barely speak.  She grasped the bar and did her best to stay standing.  "Fuck me," she said softly. He didn't hear.  "Fuck me!" she said more loudly.  Eric stopped.  "What?!" he snapped.  Amy pleaded, "Fuck my ass.  Please.  I need your cock. I need you to take me completely.  Please fuck me."

He pulled his hard cock from his pants, spit on the tip and then shoved it fully into her tight ass in one motion. Now ride it you little slut, he commanded.

Gotta go.  Love you.

Amy you little slut, I hate when you are so busy.

Getting on the plane in 20.  

I will miss you honey.  

Loved calling you my little slut.  Lol. 

Ack!  Did I miss you? I had a meeting.  ERIC!!!!  PAY ATTENTION TO ME!!!!

Ha ha.  Be good Amy Lynn!  I'll be dreaming of you sweetheart.


Tuesday, January 5, 2016

Playful spanking? No, spanked for playing.

Eric and I don't fight.  By that, I mean each other.  We will battle the world in a heartbeat; defend what we believe is right, advocate for the underdog, and be selfless in our actions- almost to a fault.  (We sound like the Avengers, lol) It's those traits that attracted us to one another and the very ones that tear us up inside.

Eric and I both solve problems.  We both do whatever we can to make each other and everyone else we care about have better lives.  On the rare occasion when an issue comes up between us, about us, we both take it to heart and our tendency is to run.

Life happens. We hurt each other. Not purposely, but it happens, and we both run.

I run physically.  I take off on foot, in a car, or I have even been known to jump on a plane to get as far away as possible.  I leave Eric to wonder where I'm off to and how long I'll be gone.  While dating, he learned that I always come back.  Sometimes the loop is long and oval, has taken as long as two months. Other times it's a quick circle around the track. Since our wedding, it has become less necessary as I've learned to trust that he will be there no matter how bad it gets. Now, most times, I tell him I'm going to run and ask him to come along and help me through whatever is in my head.

Eric runs emotionally.  Shuts off.  Won't talk.  Goes inside himself and leaves me with a passionless shell of the man I love.  I push and poke and pray that he will return.  He ignores me, returns short one word answers, or suddenly becomes a "company man" who has no time for even a text before bed or first thing in the morning.  This only happens when he believes he has let me down, but the scary part is his first response is always that until he comes up with the solution, I am better off without him.  My response to that is, I'm never better off when he is away and I'm not in this for his solutions to my issues. I'm in this because of the immeasurable love that grows in my heart for him every single day, whether he's solving problems or not is irrelevant to me. I know he is always there for me in all capacities.

I sound ridiculous but I'm human, and a girl.  So there.  Now back to the last three days.

Eric came home early and we all know how that went.  Incredible reunion.  I made a personal resolution to be his "bad Amy" more often, in a playful way.  I even found a theme song.  Well, the lesson here is it takes two to play and my mistake was in playing (by myself) that his first day home wasn't amazing for me but pissed me off instead.  Not to bore you, I basically pulled off that I was really angry that Eric hadn't told me he was coming home early, in that raging PMS kind of female way.  I wore the dreaded pink dress and dark sunglasses (a whole other story that could have ended our romance the day it began), told him I didn't like surprises and griped about it "being rude not to let his wife know what he doing so she could make plans and find some happiness in the anticipation of him coming home".  I had him going and accentuated my point by getting in my car and driving off, two suitcases (empty, I might add) in the backseat.

30 minutes later, I texted him "just kidding" and drove back home but he didn't respond to the text and he wasn't there when I arrived.

Neither was his car.

I called.  His phone rang, from the bathroom counter where he'd left it when he ran out after me.

I faked a run and Eric believed it.  I then spent four frantic hours searching for him; the same four frantic hours he spent driving around and searching for me.  Horrible, horrible night.  We finally crossed paths at home around 10 pm.  I cried and held onto him as though he were my only source of air.  He did the same, so relieved to have found me; until I told him it was just a joke, hoping to lead to a playful spanking and a silly night.  I saw the anger cross his face and he pushed me away, back against the floor and made one simple statement, "Don't ever scare me like that again," and he was dun.  Did not talk to me for two days. Barely acknowledged my existence, no matter what I said or did.  I faked a physical run and then he ran emotionally and that hurt, the pain between us hanging heavily for far too long.

Today was day three.  We got out of bed, having layed there for hours back to back, having spent no time asleep, Eric pretending to be out and me crying as quietly as I could so as not to disturb him.  I tried again to get him to forgive me.  Apologized again and said I'd do anything to take back that day.  He just stared through me and then shook his head. We both went to work.  We both came home.  We sat across from each other at dinner and I finally stopped talking, crying and begging.  I just sat and ate in silent defeat.  It was all he needed.

Eric left the table without a word and a moment later returned with his thick black belt in hand.  He stood before me and I watched as he weaved the leather through each loop in his pants, buckling it in place.  He grabbed the keys off the counter and then took me by the back of the arm and led me to the car.  I did not speak but jumped at the sound of the engines roar and the uptake of the garage door behind me.  I had no idea where Eric was taking me but in my gut, I knew the time had come.

We drove for over forty five minutes.  Dusk was upon us and the road way out in the country stretched further and further from home, light shining off the damp ground while dark storm clouds ominously made their way around peach colored sun baked counterparts.

I swallowed so hard I was sure Eric could hear it over the sound of the tires on the road.  My palms were so wet, I was sure the sweat would drip from my fingers and my heart raced so hard, I thought it would beat straight through my chest.

When we finally came to a stop, we were in front of a large barn in the middle of nowhere.  Eric undid my seat belt and walking around to my side of the car, opened the door and yanked me out by the back of my arm again.

I went willingly but Eric was walking so fast, it felt as though I was being dragged.  On the opposite side of the barn, there stood a large wood pile, neatly stacked a good four feet high for winter.  Still not talking, Eric bent me over the logs and raising my dress, pulled my panties down to my knees.  The tears began immediately and as though he were blind to them, Eric very deliberately undid his belt buckle and slowly pulled the heavy implement, loop after loop after loop.

Now, I've been punished many times with this belt before and it is responsible for the very first bruise I ever encountered. But, Eric has always spanked me with just the last six inches on the end.  This time, through the tears that were already falling, I watched as he folded it in half and raised his arm over my naked flesh.

The first strike sent searing pain across my right cheek and I cried out, grasping at the wood I was pressed against, searching for anything to keep me stable.  Eric's other arm rested on my back, pinning me into position, and the belt soared through the air crashing down on the same spot a second time.  I bellowed. All sense of inhibition was gone.

Eric struck and I cried.  Eric struck and I wailed.  Eric struck and I screamed.

Get the picture?  Need more?

Eric counts.  There was no counting.

Eric rubs between spanks.  There was no rubbing.

Eric checks in. There was no checking.

Eric has never spanked me in anger.  And true to form, this time, there was no anger.  This spanking was pure, raw, calculated consequences for scaring us both.

When the belt finally stopped, I found myself in the midst of an extremely ugly cry in the middle of some ranchers property in the arms of someone I would do just about anything for.  Eric waited until I was quiet enough to hear his words and then, for the first time in almost two full days, spoke to me.

"I love you very much, Amy."

And that was it.  We got back in the car and drove home.  We walked in the house and made love for hours.  We slept until the snooze button would no longer snooze and then I went to work, to sit on the most bruised and welted ass I've ever had in my life, knowing without any doubt that my husband still loves me...

but will not

put up

with

my

shit

no matter

how playful

I

think

I

am.

Amy

Friday, January 1, 2016

Eric came home early - Written by Amy

Once Eric left on his trip, I stayed away from the blog.  Part of me thought it would be comforting, reaching out to my new blog friends and keeping up with the latest holiday stories.  But there was a part of me that knew the sadness of Eric being gone so long would be bad enough without signing in on a blog that was all about us.  So, I packed up the laptop and let it be.

Yesterday, I found myself home alone, all family off with friends or visiting other places.  I missed Eric so much I put on our favorite music and went rummaging through the toy chest I'd given him for his birthday.  Inside was a box with two vibrators - one rabbit and one hummingbird.  I had promised not to play around until he was home on the 4th but five more days seemed impossible.  I ran a wonderfully hot bubble bath and relaxed with the toys in the water.  Then I put a towel on the closet floor and went inside.  

Eric filled my mind as I slid the vibrators, one in each special place, back and forth in opposite time of each other.  I was lost in the sensations, everything building from the inside out, thoughts of Eric being the one between my lips, his blue eyes staring into mine, his fingers laced around mine, his...

Suddenly the closet door opened and two hands grabbed the vibrators and flung them on the floor.  I couldn't see, the bright light from the hall shining into the dark closet but I was pulled to my feet and blinking away the confusion, found myself in the grasp of my love.

"What are you doing home?!" I exclaimed.

Eric was not in the mood for pleasantries.  

"I thought we agreed not to masturbate while we were apart," he said, putting my hair in a pony tail and directing me toward the bed.  He lay me on my stomach and grabbed the cuffs from the chest, tying my wrists and ankles to the bed.

Eric began a warm up, spanking each cheek one after the other until they were shaded pink. My hair fell over my eyes and I watched through the strands in the mirror.  His focus was intense but an overwhelming feeling of love filtrated throughout my mind and body as he worked to complete his task.  Each strike bit and then exploded in a burst of heat, up my spine and through my face.  Sweat broke out between my breasts and I felt moist and tingly where the toy had been.

Eric grabbed the flat wooden hairbrush and I braced myself.  I talked myself through the first three swats but by the fourth, my teeth were pressed together and my eyes were shut tight, hands grasping at the sheets trying to hold onto anything for support.  He didn't waiver, didn't take the time to soothe my cheeks or allow me to catch my breath.

"Okay, okay!" I hollered pulling against the restraints and twisting my bottom as much as I could to avoid the stinging blows.  Eric continued three more on each side, turning my silence into gasps of heavy breathing.

He said something about keeping agreements but I was lost in the flames of my ass being licked by the cool air from the room.  I continued to concentrate on wishing the burn away when a dab of cold lube made it's way into my ass, Eric's hard erection following.  He spent a moment getting us both fitted and then began pumping his hips fast and rough.  Suddenly, my lips were spread and he inserted a large new toy that I'd never seen before.  Back and forth, he slid himself and the toy in and out until I couldn't take another second and my orgasm rolled from my quivering walls until it escaped in an earth shattering scream of pleasure.

At some point, the cuffs were removed and I heard Eric washing up in the sink.  My head was spinning and the reality that he was actually home early was barely resonating with me when he took me from the bed and put me on my knees, presenting himself to my mouth.  My tongue went to work, strong firm strokes along the underbelly, focusing on that special spot that only I know about.  He moaned and I knew he was close.  Hot cum started pumping through my teeth and Eric held onto my hair as we emptied every drop.

"Show me," he said and I opened, trying not to smile for fear of having it drip out the corners of my mouth.  He approved and I swallowed.

Ten minutes later, I was in my pj's and curled up on Eric's lap on the couch.

"See what happens to bad girls?" he said, slapping my tender ass before kissing my forehead.

"Yes I do!" I exclaimed.  My new theme song for 2016 will be Bad by The Cab.  He doesn't want a good girl. This I know for sure.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M5dgJAtPNio

New Year Boat Ride

"Amy! Get off that thing. Sit down here on the bench." Eric said when his giddy girl jumped up on the counter of the ships bow. Amy shook her head and turned toward the ocean. 

"Amy," Eric sternly put his hands on her shoulders,  "I said get down NOW." 

"Excuse me," Amy wiggled under his grip and addressed the ships Captain, "Is it okay if I sit up here?" 

"Sure," he said, eager to please his passenger. "It'll be a rough ride but if you want to,  go right ahead." 

Eric gritted his teeth.  Although he wanted Amy to have the time of her life,  he didn't think it was particularly safe to be up there and he was furious that she had gone to the Captain to override his direction.  

"Stay then," he whispered into her ear,  "but your ass is going to pay for this tonight." 

Amy knew Eric tended to worry too much so she happily ignored his statement and spent the hour long ride bouncing along with the waves, wind and salty water pummeling her face and her body sliding around the slick surface. With each bump,  Eric counted the number of welts he intended to plant on her ass. 

By the time the couple returned to the room they had rented for new years, they were both tired and hungry.  Amy suggested they shower quick and go to dinner but Eric had other plans.  

"Do you really think you were going to get away with making me worry for a solid hour while you insisted on sitting on a counter top during high winds not to mention completely disobeying me?" Amy blushed. 

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to worry you. I just wanted to have fun."

"Go get your hair brush," Eric said,  truly unhappy with her behavior.  

"I didn't bring it on the trip." Amy admitted and Eric looked more annoyed.  

"Fine," he said scanning the place for something to punish her with.  The room was sparse- no mini blinds,  no kitchen utensils. 

"Come here," Eric said, his frustration growing. He put her over his knee and realizing her bathing suit bottom was still wet, began a loud slapping warm up that proved quite stingy.  Amy squirmed as the slaps grew harder and just when he knew she was on the verge of trying to get away,  he stopped for a moment to lecture her once more and then very slowly and deliberately pulled down her suit exposing two pink cheeks.  

"Now, young lady," Eric began spanking her hard again, "let's see just how red your ass can be before dinner.  Eric was relentless and in no time Amy was apologizing and begging him to stop.  Once again he took her right to the edge but then allowed her to catch her breath.

Remembering Amy had gone to the Captain for permission to sit up top spurred Eric's desire to make his point once more and he marched her to the corner while he went to find his thin brown dress belt in the suitcase. 

"You are going to have a hard time sitting at dinner tonight young lady," he stated and folding the belt in half,  ordered her to bend over the back of the couch.  Eric showed no mercy as Amy held on tight to a cushion, his belt leaving streaks of red welts asking her bottom.  The more he spanked her, the harder he became and Eric decided it was times to punish her ass for real.  Pulling her by the hair into the bedroom, Eric piled pillows in the center of the bed and had her lie, butt in the air, for his pleasure.  

"I bet you won't forget your hairbrush again," he stated taking a plastic clothes hanger to her already blazing hind end. Twenty strokes in, he grabbed the tube of lubricant and told her to spread her cheeks.  Her starfish was very tight so he loosened her up with one finger, then two, before he slid himself all the way in.  He rode her ass until he couldn't wait another second and then pumped every last drop of his hot cum into her red streaked bottom. When he finished,  he led her to the outdoor shower and watched as she bathed among the elephant ears, his cum dripping from her starfish, his hand prints littering her cheeks with a red pattern accentuated by the belt and hanger marks.  

After the shower,  Eric laid Amy on her stomach on the bed and massaged cool refreshing lotion on her battered skin. 

"I love you Amy," he said perfectly aware that dinner would be a painful experience; seated on those hard wooden chairs for an hour or two. He was confident she'd learned her lesson.

Didn't want a spanking, but needed it

Amy was on the phone in the kitchen when Eric got home and it was obvious work had made its way into her night once again.  She had on a very polite business tone that she only used when she found herself in the middle of a pack of problems someone else should be handling, but feeling responsible for the world she'd stepped in and worked for hours to fix it all. He went to kiss her hello but she turned away, voice rising, as resistance to her solution intensified. Eric watched the clock and his girl as time escaped and so did her patience. An hour later, she finally hung up and the work world was balanced once more but then, a quick peck on his lips and she was rustling through some papers to be signed, complaining about school books to be ordered on-line and frantic about a rent check to be mailed.

"Are we having dinner tonight?" Eric inquired and Amy snapped.

"Are you kidding me? I don't look busy enough so now you want me to make you dinner too?!"

She turned to the fridge and started slamming ground beef, tomato sauce and vegetables on the counter.
Eric took a deep breath and caught her wrists, pulling her away from the counter and kicking the refrigerator door shut with his foot.

"Honey," he said applying enough pressure to get her attention but not enough to hurt. "I did not ask you to make dinner but simply whether or not we were having dinner together or if you had too much to do."

Amy glared and pulled free from his grip.

"I don't have time to decipher what you do or do not mean," she stated and as she rattled off the things she was handling. The overwhelming list brought tears to her eyes and Eric knew immediately she had reached her breaking point.

"Come on Sweetheart," he said grabbing the long cutting board off the counter and taking her hand in his. "Let's go upstairs and get you ready for bed."

Amy's body began to shake and she tried to let go of his hand. 

"No!" she cried, the tears welling up once again. "I've been good. I've done everything for everyone and I'm just tired, that's all. I'll make dinner. It's not a big deal."

Eric stopped and wrapped his arms tightly around her body, pulling her into his chest.

"Oh honey," he cooed softly in her ear. "I know you've been a good girl and this isn't about dinner. I'm not mad either but I am going to give you a reset."

They moved up the stairs and Amy began to visibly shake the same way she had the first time he'd spanked her over the bed in their room.

"But... but... I don't want a spanking," she stammered.

"I know you don't, Sweetheart," he said leading her over to the dresser , "but you need one."

Eric undid the clasp on her dress and slowing folded the material away from her shoulders exposing her back. He gently stroked his fingers down her spine as he removed her clothing, soft kisses placed randomly. Once naked,  the tears and shaking began again but Eric reached in the drawer and took out his t-shirt and her pajama bottoms. As he dressed her,  she began to relax and become putty in his hands.

"So you're not going to punish me?" she asked hesitantly,  somewhat afraid of his answer but fully aware that he only spanked her bare bottom.

"No darling," he said leading her to the spanking chair. "This is not a punishment so you can keep your clothes on. I'm just giving your mind a break."

With that, he had her over his lap, a strong masculine arm holding her in place as he massaged her backside in the thin cotton jammies. After a few moments, he began spanking her bottom, one side after the other, increasing the force of each swat until she began to squirm and wiggle out of place. On cue, he began rubbing again until she settled back down.

"Alright Amy Lynn," he said taking the paddle from the little round table beside his chair. "I am going to spank you ten times without stopping and they are not going to be light. This is not because you have been a bad girl but because you need a reset and I promised to give it to you."

Amy tensed up, her bottom already warm and tingly from the round with his hand. She braced herself and closed her eyes, trying to breathe deeply and stay calm.

The paddle reigned hard against her cheeks and by the sixth strike she was sucking in air and kicking her legs at the sharp burn Eric was causing her backside. Determined to help her release all of the stress and tension dragging her down, Eric wrapped his leg over hers, pinning them in place as he continued with four more hard smacks. At ten, as promised,  he let her go and she jumped up and danced around the room rubbing her bottom in an attempt to lessen the pain. When she finally stopped moving he took her in his arms, sitting her on his lap, and gently spoke to her in a very loving yet firm way.

"Amy. I believe you can do anything and I truly am your biggest fan but my darling, you can't do everything and now that you have me, you don't have to. We can work together on the things that have to get done but you also need to commit to letting go of things that other people can handle."

Amy opened her mouth to protest the last statement but when she threw out, "You're the same. You do everything at work that your staff..." Eric cut her off and shook his head.

"Apparently you are not following me on this young lady," he said sternly and in no time, she found herself over his knee and pinned in place once more.

"No honey. I get it. No more," she hollered but he grabbed the waistband of her pants and yanked them halfway down her thighs exposing an already crimson behind.

Holding tight, Eric beat down four strikes on one cheek and then four on the other, until his hand stung and his girl was sweating a deep enough pool it showed through the fabric of his shirt
.
"I need you to cry Sweetheart," he said but she shook her head and begged him to stop. Eric paused only long enough to take the paddle in hand once again. 

"Until I hear your safe word or until you let it all go," he began the same four strike pattern on her blazing cheeks, "we will continue."

Amy bucked and fought, trying to get away from his grip as the strikes on her ass left deeper shades of red and purple behind. Her face became scarlet as her body heat increased and the relentless stinging on her backside grew as though a volcanic eruption was about to explode.

Whack, whack, whack.

Eric continued, wondering deep down what it would take for her to give. About to stop himself, Amy's  body finally slumped over his lap as tears of release gushed from her eyes and her body shook loose of all its stress. He stopped spanking and lovingly rubbed her lower back until she quieted down.

Exhausted, Amy could barely stand on her own so Eric helped her over to the bed and pulled back the covers before guiding her on her stomach into place. He grabbed a tub of cool massage cream and rubbed it into her battered cheeks while she quietly cried herself to sleep.

The next morning,  Eric woke up to gentle kisses from his bright eyed bride.

"You feel better?" he asked and she beamed, happily grinning after her first good night's sleep in a very long time.

"I'm ready to take on the world!" she announced and Eric rolled his eyes.

"You little minx," he said pulling her close.  "You don't want a repeat of last night anytime soon do you?! Remember what I said,  you can do anything but you can't do everything."

Then he put her on all fours in front of him and slid his huge cock into her beckoning peach where he rode her until they both came, secretly surveying the painted canvas that remained on her ass and knowing he was the right man for her.