Monday, June 27, 2016

Meme from Pearl, who got it from PK

One word....
Describe:
1. Yourself: Determined
2. Your boyfriend/girlfriend (spouse): Encouraging
3. Your hair:  Foiled
4. Your mother:  Darker
5. Your father:  Sentimental
6. Your favourite item: T-shirt
7. Your dream last night: Foursome
8. Your favourite drink: Milkshake
9. Your dream car: Convertible
10. The room you are in: Mine
11. Your ex: Unkind 
12. Your fear: Insufficient
13. What you want to be in 10 years? Stretched
14. Who you hung out with last night? Children
15. What you're not? Quitter
16. Muffins: Carrot
17. One of your wish list items: Legitimacy
18. Time: Deficient
19. The last thing you did: Exercise
20. What you are wearing:  T-shirt
21. Your favourite weather: Summer
22. Your favourite book: Sooner
23. The last thing you ate: Mint
24. Your life: Exciting
25. Your mood: Anxious
26. Your best friend: Eric
27. What are you thinking about right now? Canary 
28. Your car: Noticeable
29. What are you doing at the moment? Typing 
30. Your summer: Emotional
31. Your relationship status: Eternal
32. What is on your TV? Netflix
33. What is the weather like? Dry
34. When is the last time you laughed? Lunch
35. Your favourite colour? Purple

Saturday, June 25, 2016

Six Hour Saturday - a spanking extravaganza

The morning began with an apology, but it wasn't from me.

Eric woke me gently by stroking my hair and running his fingers along my back, over my hips and up my belly.  He caressed each breast and kissed my shoulder. Then he tucked my hair behind my ear and spoke softly into the canal, his lips brushing up against my lobe, he was so close.

"I've let you down, Sweet Pea, and I'm very sorry for that." He sounded sincere and his message came from deep within his beating heart.  "I know how important it is to keep up with the discipline but we've been so busy exploring other paths, I haven't taken the time where I needed to.  I've been talking to you about keeping your word and I am the one who promised to keep you accountable. Starting today, I will make this right.  I promise you, darling. I am taking charge. Today we will have Six Hour Saturday."

I blinked in the soft glow of early sunlight while his words wound their way into my brain and began to register. He leaned back as I stretched and turned, face to face, before entwining my legs in his and wrapping myself around his body like two ivy vines meeting and trailing a backyard fence. We lay in the sheets as one and I held on tight, unsure of what he meant by Six Hour Saturday but completely aware that he was serious and had thought this through for quite some time. The birds chirped outside and the cool crisp air was calming after a night of anticipation brought on by a cryptic post my husband wrote just before going to bed. (Amy, Amy, Amy)

We snuggled for a bit but then Eric began again.

"Six Hour Saturday, my love, is a day of maintenance spankings to get us both caught up and refocused.  In a few minutes, I'm going to ask you to go to the chest and pull out everything. You are to choose six implements and line them up in whatever order you like, across the top of my dresser. While you make your decision, I'm going to set the alarm on my phone to ring every hour, on the hour, for six hours and then we will go about our day.  However, each time the alarm goes off, no matter what we are doing at the time, you will be put over my knee and spanked until all six items have been used."

My palms went moist, butterflies took off in my stomach and a large squishy vat of sexual butter went into production between my legs. His words turned me on.  His strength and conviction, the attention and focus, the game; it made my body ignite from top to bottom and I felt incredibly alive.

Decisions, decisions.  I wanted desperately to reach out to my blog friends for advice, the only few who truly understand the life I lead.  There were seventeen items to choose from, but then there was the order as well.  Do I start off easy and work my way up or after six hours, would I long for something playful and sexy on a truly tender derriere? Everything looked impossibly ominous yet incredibly delicious all at the same time.

As Eric entered numbers in his cell phone, I placed before me the small leather strap (his favorite), the slotted spoon (with a tiny metal heart attached to it, a reminder that it is used in love) and the dreaded wooden hairbrush (hasn't been out in a very long time).  I couldn't decide on the order of just those three so back to the chest, I pulled out the blind wand (it somehow never made it's way back to the window) and the school girl stick (from a delightful role play which included Catholic skirt and pig tails).  Then I stalled, looking up at his black weave belt hanging over my head and then down at Sir Strap, the most intense implement we own, seated in the bottom of the chest.  I closed the lid and reached for the belt, carrying my stash to the bed where I began choosing the order.

Eric looked up for a second and scanned the pile.

"Come here honey," he said sweetly and I walked over to his side of the bed and leaned in for a kiss.

He did kiss me, but then he pulled me over his lap, yanked my pj's down and with his hand, smacked my bottom hard and fast seven or eight times.

"The belt goes back," he said barely giving it a glance before returning to his phone.  "The directions were specifically to retrieve implements from the chest."

I answered, "Yes sir," and watched a grin cross his face though he never looked up from the phone.

Back to the closet, I hung the belt and retrieved Sir Strap.  "Guess you win this time," I thought, feeling the thick stiff leather in my hand. It was by far the scariest and my question became, first to get it over with or last to put it off until the end?

Eric stood at the base of the dresser and scanned the implements placed neatly on top.  Wooden spoon, Sir Strap, blind wand, hair brush, school girl stick and folded leather strap. He nodded and went downstairs, asking if I'd like my egg scrambled or over easy. Shrugging, I opted for the latter and we had a normal every day breakfast as though this Saturday was merely Saturday.

After breakfast I stood at the sink and washed the dishes while we chatted about Fourth of July plans. I was down to the final red plate when I heard Eric's alarm start to ring.  He reached for the faucet, turned off the water and took my hand. Without a word, I was marched upstairs, the spanking chair was placed in the center of the room and Eric sat, with the slotted spoon in hand.

"Over my knee, young lady," he commanded and when I was in position, he slowly removed my pj's once again.  "Today is about getting back on track and remembering the commitments we've made to each other."

Smack, smack, smack.

The small and relatively quiet spoon danced along my white globes, twenty five times, imparting a particularly sharp sting each time it landed on my sit spot.  Then, as though nothing had happened, Eric was back in the kitchen finishing the dish and asking me to help dry.

We showered and dressed, denim shorts for me and a bright orange tank top.  The recent heat wave had wrecked havoc on our yard so we trimmed and watered, clipped and shaped, bushes and trees throughout the landscaping. It was truly a lovely morning and we basked in the sunshine while attending to our chores.  I almost forgot about Six Hour Saturday but then the bell sounded and my stomach lurched at the realization that Sir Strap was next.

Again, Eric took my hand without skipping a beat and leaving my shorts in place, bent me over the kitchen counter.  I lay perfectly still, squeezing my eyes shut and gritting my teeth as he ran up the stairs, retrieved the strap and returned to my side.

"I know you have spent money on toys that I have not even seen yet," he began and my face flushed in embarrassment. "After these twenty five, you will be forgiven and we can add whatever you've bought to our toy box. I do not like you going against your word (WHACK) and I do not want to find out you've done this again (WHACK). Am I clear? (WHACK, WHACK, WHACK)."

I mumbled something unintelligible and thanked my lucky stars that I had chosen thick denim shorts which Eric had kindly allowed to remain on my body.  Even so, just a fifth of the way in, I was already clinging to the tile, working on my breathing and sweating through my top.

Whack number eleven pushed me over the edge and I stood, dancing throughout the room while rubbing my cheeks and begging Eric to stop there.

"I can't do it," I stated,  feeling an intense burn through my jean clad bottom.  "I really can't."

Eric waited patiently and only when I stopped pacing around the room did he say, "That's okay honey. You've got fourteen more.  If it's too much, I can cuff you to the bed so you quit moving around."

Determined, I went back over the counter and we finished with Sir Strap, three whacks at a time, until all twenty five were complete.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" Eric asked earnestly but the look on my face quickly erased that suggestion and any other option that would require me to sit.

"Why don't we go back to the yard then?" he offered and I gratefully went out to trim the roses.

It couldn't have been forty-five minutes and that darn alarm went off again. Hourly spankings come rather quickly when one round alone takes over fifteen minutes to complete.  Up the stairs we went and down came my shorts once I was back over his knee.

"Your ass is still red!" Eric exclaimed, shifting me to a comfortable place on his lap. His cock fit neatly under my rib and I noticed how stiff it was becoming.

The blind wand made a neat swishing sound through the air but then sliced into my bum like a hot iron logo branded on the flank of a rancher's cattle.  I bucked and kicked, gripped the leg of the chair and tried my best to get out from under his grasp. Eric was quick with the wand, tapping more than striking by the end.  When he finished, my cheeks were on fire and I couldn't imagine putting clothes on ever again.  I knelt between his legs and slowly undid the button and zipper on his shorts, allowing his cock to break free.

"I'm sorry I was such a bad girl," I said, looking up at him with the most seductive gaze I could muster under the pain of a still throbbing behind. My tongue slipped lightly around his cock until it rested on the V and my lips moved in, sliding and sucking as he moaned under my control. Hot waves of cum pumped into my jaws and I waited, mouth open, while he observed and then, with permission granted, I swallowed.

Moments later, we were both redressed and I found myself seated gingerly at our favorite hamburger joint with a happy husband across from me and a stack of pickles shared between the two of us.  We laughed about how we met, giggled about misunderstandings and got lost in each other's eyes when our song came on the radio. Just as we downed the last of our shakes, the alarm sounded yet again.

"Uh oh!" I practically shouted.  "Whatcha going to do now?! All our stuff is at home!"

Grinning from ear to ear, we left the restaurant and went out back where the car waited.  Eric took my hand and led me to the unisex bathroom, an oddly placed add-on, built to comply with a new code or requirement.  Once inside, Eric told me to look in my purse and there it was, the hairbrush.

"No way," I squeaked trying not to alarm any possible number of passers-by.

"Yes way," he responded and over the sink I went while my husband administered twenty five blows to the back of my shorts. I opted to take a walk before making the painstaking ten minute ride home. We didn't mention the discipline, just window shopped, hand-in-hand like lovers on an afternoon date.

Back at the house, Eric suggested a movie again but this time, offered to find something on t.v. so I could lie on my tummy, head resting on his chest.  We cuddled and dozed in and out to an old erotic film called 9 1/2 Weeks. I nodded off but was woken by the alarm I was learning to hate.  Eric slid out from under my head and told me to drop my pants while he retrieved the school girl stick.

"You're going to grab your ankles for this one," he said, pulling my hair into two pony tails and pressing our foreheads together so our eyes crossed and noses touched.

I bent over and begged him not to hit too hard, literally pleaded that he take mercy on me.

Eric liked the "please sir" and "I beg you sir", striking lightly as long as I was talking but ratcheting it up a notch if I ever grew silent.  With twenty five down, we were back on the couch, me not bothering to dress again.

For those of you who have never seen 9 1/2 Weeks, it was a favorite in the eighties, mild compared to what we've read on the blogs and seen on the internet but romantic and suggestive in it's own right.  It ended and I begged some more; this time for hot steamy sex from the man I love.  We made our way to the bedroom and Eric placed my wrists in soft Velcro cuffs, hanging my hands above my head and attaching them to the top of our bed.  He left my legs free and my knees stayed bent, keeping the sorest parts of my bottom off the mattress while he rode in and out of me, thrusting himself deep in the pool of sexual butter he had been brewing throughout the day. I held tightly to the metal bars of the bed and my nipples hardened under the magic he created with his body inside of mine.  We both panted and we both moaned, getting close to cumming together when "beep, beep, beep" the alarm broke through, piercing our ears with it's intrusive howl.

Eric immediately pulled out, unhooked one of my wrists, flipped me onto my stomach and cuffed me back into place.  He tucked a couple of pillows under my hips and then sat beside me, ever so soothingly rubbing a thick coat of baby oil into my battered cheeks.

"You've been a very good girl today Amy," he cooed, helping my body relax, the welts and bruises drinking in the oil and lavishing under his touch.  "I believe after today, you will no longer wonder if I am going to come through for you and I will no longer worry about you keeping your word."

I allowed my belly to sink into the pillows and I held tightly to the head board, ready to finalize Six Hour Saturday.  Eric raised the folded leather strap, as he had done many times before, and it sailed across my behind with a loud familiar slap.  This time, however, it stuck just a bit in that gooey oily film and then pulled at my skin as it followed it's path away from my body.  I yelled. The ouch of leather meeting oil on my tender backside was beyond bearable and that was after just one.

Eric's voice came through the pain, strong and confident.

"Honey," he placed the strap against my bottom as though lining up a shot before taking it. "You can do this, Sweetheart.  I know you can get through this and I'm here with you."

I closed my eyes and squeezed the bars.  Eric swung the strap and again I bellowed, my ass flaming with a large red welt where the leather had stuck and then pulled away.  My mind went blank, Eric's voice carrying on in the background, as my ass took slap after slap until all twenty five were complete. Exhausted, I barely helped as Eric detached my wrists and rolled me onto my back.

"I'm so proud of you, Sweetheart," he said, pulling my knees up and gently lapping at my clitoris with his rough but stimulating tongue.  Eric licked and sucked until my lower lips were swollen and my chest was heaving with deep hollow breaths.

"I know how to cool you down," Eric stated before vanishing for a few minutes.  Back in bed, he kissed my mouth, an icy cold dribble of water escaping his lips and entering mine.  Then he slipped a smooth piece of ice into his hand and gently guided it between my legs until it was buried deep inside me.  He knelt before me and pressing beneath my quivering clit, slid his rock hard, blazing hot cock inside me and chased after the ice.  Holding my hands, Eric's hips guided his way back and forth against the melting cube until we both erupted in absolute pleasure.

Tonight, Eric is winging his way across the country for another three days on the job.  He left our house content that he had done his part and held us both accountable, assured his wife that she is loved and all is well, and left his mark in more ways than one.

Friday, June 24, 2016

Amy, Amy, Amy

Sweet Pea,

Tomorrow we are going to play a game called Six Hour Saturday. Take Lindy's advice. Enjoy sitting whilst you can.

Eric

Thursday, June 23, 2016

Strap On, Strap Off, Strap on Again

I was giddy with my little prank.  Eric was on his way and I sat naked in the bathroom except for my new "Bend Over Boyfriend" strap.  When he came in the house, I literally covered my mouth to hold back a giggle.  I waited as patiently as I could while he climbed the stairs and then, when he entered the bedroom, I flew out into the room and yelled, "Drop 'em and spread 'em! You're mine tonight!!"

(If you are completely confused, read the prior post please.)

Eric's face changed.  I'm not sure he cracked a smile but something moved. There was a look of surprise to say the least, with his wife standing before him wearing nothing but a purple plastic dildo and a harness.

"Where on earth did you get that?" he asked and I thought there was a bit of a laugh behind the question.

"I bought it," I answered gleefully, sure that he was about to bust a gut.

Never has that man moved so fast.  I wasn't less than six feet from him but in a nanosecond, like a cheetah on a gazelle, I found myself face down over his knee on the spanking chair.  His hand showed no mercy as he went to town blistering my bottom with ten hard swats.  I squirmed and hollered, trying to catch my breath from being flipped over so quick and then punished so soundly.

"Why are you being spanked, Amy?" Eric asked, stopping the barrage of smacks for the moment while tucking my legs under his foot and pinning me closer to his body.

"You didn't think it was funny," I said reaching back to rub my aching cheek.

"Guess again," he said grabbing my arm and holding it down along my back.  Again, he spanked my butt. Again, his hand was fast and firm; ten strikes before posing the question a second time.

"Why are you being spanked, Amy?"

"Because you're mad at me," I whimpered pressing against his palm really feeling the need to rub the blazing heat away from my ass.

Without hesitating, I yelped my way through round three.  In my head, I counted five whacks but then my butt drained all the blood from my brain and I dangled over Eric's knee as his hand print manifested itself as a semi-permanent display.

"You are just determined to get a beating, aren't you?" At least the question was different this time.

"Why are you being spanked, Amy?" Obviously, I spoke too soon. There was an additional question but the main query was the same.

"I don't know," I cried out.  "Please don't spank me anymore honey.  Please, I'm sorry.  Whatever it is, I'm sorry."

Eric lifted me from his lap and I finally had the chance to massage my poor backside.

"We said no more toy purchases young lady.  You promised not to buy another thing until we'd used everything in the chest from your last shopping spree," he reminded me, holding out his hand until I removed the strap and handed everything over to him.

Eric placed my nose in the corner, nipples up against the cold plaster on the wall and continued his lecture about sticking to commitments and agreements I've made with other people, him and myself. Then he went to the dresser, pulled out a blindfold and placed it over my eyes.  He walked me over to the bed and bent my body at the waist before ordering me to spread my cheeks.

"That's quite a red ass you've got there Miss Amy," he commented and a cool dab of lube found it's way from his finger into my backdoor.  "Keep them spread," he warned.

I waited, counting my breaths, as he pressed up against my rim and pushed his way inside. Unexpectedly, I felt him penetrate the other place as well, two holes filled at once.

Eric rode in and out, filling me completely while his balls slapped against my hamstrings until we were both cumming.

SMACK!

One last slap across my ass and Eric pulled me upright, taking the blindfold away and laughing at the shock on my face when it registered that he, stood before me, in all his glory with that silly strap wrapped around his thighs.

"Two cocks are better than one," he beamed, shaking his hips and additional package in my direction. Together we made our way to a hot shower  where I continued to squirm because the water made my bottom sting even more.

"I've got some email to follow up on," Eric said after we dried off.

Leading me by the hand to a wooden chair at our kitchen table, he plopped my laptop in front of me and said, "You can fill in your blog friends about keeping your word while I work," he smiled, kissing my forehead.

There you have it, the prank of the day.  Next time, I'll make sure I remember our agreement before spending money on a gag. (Though the item did make for an entirely new sexual experience.)

Ugh. Wait.  What's he going to do when he finds out about the other toys? I probably should have mentioned them....

Amy

Strap On - Strap Off

Eric is coming home in an hour and 13 minutes.

Image result for spanked with belt

I got spanked with the belt last night for threatening to skip the gym and ended up at a two hour workout with a red behind.

The "threat" (more like a promise) was corner time with a plug and then a "good ol' butt fucking" when I got home but hubby got called back to work so I spent the evening with an almond joy instead.Image result for love

Image result for girls strap on pegging kit
Who knows what Eric is going to think of this but he has a great sense of humor and I thought it would be hilarious when he comes home tonight to have it on and say, 

"Hi Honey. Drop 'em and spread 'em."

Hee hee.

Wish me luck!

Wednesday, June 22, 2016

Lesson Learned - spanked with the belt

Eric and I chatted from separate cars while we each drove home.

"Are you heading to the gym?" he asked, dutifully holding me accountable on this new exercise/weight loss plan I mapped out last week.

I groaned in reply.

"I'm tired," I whined.  "It was a long horrible day at work and I just want to lie on the couch, watch trash tv and overdose on Almond Joys."

"That sounds like a great night," Eric responded and I was relieved knowing his great day was not only going to offset my crappy one, but would get me out of the gym as well.

I pulled into the driveway when he hit me with the follow up question.

"Are your friends planning on meeting you there?"

"Yep," I said without a second thought, plopping on the couch and pressing the remote button.

"Young lady!" I leaped in the air, shocked at the harsh tone of his voice.  "Get your butt upstairs right now and put on your workout clothes.  You are going to the gym."

"I don't want to go," I said into the receiver.  "I'm tired and they can workout just fine without me."

Eric scoffed.  "Amy Lynn!  The correct answer is yes sir.  I'm not going to tell you again.  Go get dressed NOW."

Does it ever pay to argue with your husband?  What about your HOH?  Yet, I did it anyway.  Six minutes that I could have spent getting ready, I spent complaining and calling him mean.  Then the front door opened and suddenly I was all flustered and at a loss for words, stammering at the unhappy man removing his shoes in our entry.

"Go get my belt," he said, serious as all get out. (What a funny phrase.  "All get out"? Huh?)
"Now you'll be going to the gym with a red ass."

I was furious.  I stomped up the stairs like I was five, pulled Eric's belt off the wall in the closet and stomped right back out and into his waiting grasp.  Pants down, kneeling on our hope chest, I held onto the foot board and prayed he was not as mad as he sounded.

The belt raised high up and just before it flew through the air, I asked, "Are you mad at me?"

Eric immediately put the belt down and pulled me out of position.  Holding tightly to my shoulders, his eyes drilled into mine.

"I will never punish you when I'm angry," he said in a soothing and reassuring tone.  "This is about you making a commitment to your friends and then following through and keeping it.  I don't care whether you go to the gym, lose the weight, whatever.  I love you for being you but no wife of mine is going to slack on her commitments."

With that, I was bent over the side of the bed and Eric whacked my behind fifteen times with the end of his thick black leather belt.  Each strike was accentuated with an intense lecture about sticking to my word and follow through. When he finally finished, Eric watched as I squeezed into a pair of gym shorts, rubbing my cheeks along the way, and headed out to the car.

Two hours later, I returned home to find my love, gone.  In our room, there was a note.

"Sweet Pea, I got called back to work.  I should be home tomorrow night. Sorry.  I love you.  I'm proud of you for going to the gym. Eric"

Attached to the note was a bite size almond joy.

Yay!  Anybody need me to break a commitment anytime soon?  Shoot, got this girl a spanking and a candy bar. Can't go wrong there. YUM!

Amy

Sunday, June 19, 2016

Happy Father's Day

We are apart and you are having a wonderful day with your kid.

 I went to the ocean.

There was a flat heart shaped rock in the sand.

I held it in my palm and thanked your father for... you.

Then I threw it into the surf and watched it skip three times.

I was never able to skip a rock more than twice when I was a child.

Today, I think your Dad helped.




Thursday, June 16, 2016

My love...

Eric,

As you sleep and I slip from the covers to wind my way down the stairs and out to the car, I thank my lucky stars for every breath you take.  I cherish each touch, delight in every word and linger in the quiet peace you bring to my mind.

This world can be so cruel and unkind, but the universe tends to find balance in everything.  All the pain and hurts, the disappointments, the sadness - each devastating blow is graciously offset by the heartfelt love of one man.

You are a miracle to me.

I'll be home soon.

Forever your girl,
Amy

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

"Go get the strap, young lady"

The quaint little restaurant was decorated floor to ceiling with 1970's kitchen utensils.  Copper pots and pans hung from hooks overheard.  The walls had shelves lined with mixers, tea kettles, cutting boards and potato peelers.  There were wooden spoons on our right and spatulas on our left; it was a regular smorgasbord of household spanking tools.

Eric asked about my day as we nibbled on soup and sandwiches.  I babbled on about work and other mundane topics.  We agreed the month was flying by and suddenly, my throat went dry as I realized the mortgage payment was due yesterday.

"What's wrong?" Eric asked, tuning in right on cue.

My face does not hide things well.

"Nothing," I tried to sound sincere.  "I just need to take care of something after lunch."

Eric raised an eyebrow.  Apparently my tone was a dead give away.

"What did you forget?" his question was posed more like an accusation than anything.

"I haven't paid the mortgage yet," I stammered, "but I will!"

Eric eyed me and then made the obvious gesture of scanning all of the implements along the wall.

"You wouldn't!" I whispered.

"Try me," he threatened. "Get up and march yourself to the restroom right now."

The moment I paused allotted me just enough time to catch Eric stand in one motion and snatch a wooden spoon off the wall in another, clutching it along his thigh so it was hidden by his forearm.

"We're just running to the restroom," he hollered, nodding to the waiter as my cheeks went flush.

The single his/hers stall at the end of a long hallway made his task possible and it wasn't a minute before I was over the sink, dress up around my waist, and that darn spoon spanking my sit spots. After a few good hard whacks, we returned to our seats and the utensil was returned to it's place on the wall.

Convinced everyone in the place knew what had just happened, I opted to tread lightly for the rest of our meal and once back at the office, immediately called to figure out the fastest and cheapest way to get the bill paid.

"When I get home, Amy Lynn," the last thing my husband said before dropping me off, "you will feel the sting of the strap for every dollar you spend in penalties on that late payment."

There is always so much going on in my world, I often wonder how I get through the day but somehow I do and occasionally, I surprise myself.  Today was one of those miracles. The mortgage had been paid during the last week of May.

I picked up the phone and left the following message:

"So, you think it's fine to just haul your wife off to a public bathroom and spank her for missing a deadline, do ya?!  Well think again, buddy boy.  It seems you punished me prematurely because I did pay the mortgage after all so as I see it, the next time this girl screws up, you owe me a get-out-of-spanking-free-card.  I will see you at home, where I might accept your apology."

Oh, it was delicious.  All the sarcastic inflection, a master piece of a message.

6 pm

Eric in the entry way.

"Go get the strap, young lady."

"Didn't you get my message?"

Eric removed his sun glasses and stared me straight in the eye.  He does this, removing of said glasses, when he is making a serious point.  Most often, it is when he is assuring me that my insecurities are only in my own mind and that he truly loves me.  This was not that case.  This was Eric, serious about the strap and my ass.

By the time I returned downstairs, Eric had planted himself on a chair in the dining room and I was ordered to lay across his lap.  Once again my dress was pulled above my waist but this time, my panties were taken just below my knees.

"I promised you a strapping for every dollar you cost us in penalties," he began. "I did get your message and not only was I unimpressed by your mouthy tone, it occurred to me that had you paid the mortgage a second time, it would have cost us $1200!"

With that, the strap bit across both cheeks and I sucked in a huge breath of air trying my best not to cry out.  It seems like a very long time since I took a real licking from that thin folded piece of leather and though Eric opted to strike only 12, rather than 1200 times, I was up and dancing around the minute he let me go.

"Put it away," he commanded, handing the weapon over and watching as I clutched my right cheek and stumbled up to our room.

Damn that thing hurts! (Oh, but it hurts so good...)

Amy

Wednesday, June 8, 2016

The Past and the Present Collide

A culmination of twelve years worth of work
was commemorated with a hand off and a hug.
The crowd was loud and exaggerated.
The air was light, with a breeze of freedom and contentedness filling the space.

The moon and I beamed in unison, until just before the end...

That's when I saw him.
He was standing to my right and though the world focused elsewhere,
he did not take his eyes off of me.
There was no emotion in his face; no smile, no frown.
Nothing but a steadfast look.

I turned away but my throat tightened and my skin prickled.
Scanning rows of chairs, I returned to his
black empty hollow stare.

You and I left the event to celebrate a victory at work.
Long time acquaintances toasting success,
included us in their elaborate home.
Praising accomplishments,
thankful and heartfelt,
no longer the disparity between title or position.
The sigh of relief from us all equates to millions.

Home. Exhausted, we crawled into bed.
Your fingers traced small hearts on my belly
that grew in size and pressure as your tongue and lips followed suit.

I told you to get the belt.
I begged you to give me fifteen; hard, biting, relentless.

You stroked my hair and gently suckled my tits,
kisses down my ribs and over my hips.

I pushed you away. The wall of shame towering above my abilities.

"Don't be good to me.
Clear my head or I can't cum.
Set my ass on fire so my brain can release the past and I can enjoy the present."

"Honey, I just want to love you tonight."

The words, meant to be comforting, send me into overwhelming panic.
This is it, the moment you discover,
I am not lovable.

I am the one,
who allowed that person into my life,
and the lives of my family and friends.
I am the one,
who allowed that person to beat and batter
everything good I believed about me
until the only thing left
was a shattered
and shaking
shell of a girl
who lost her will
to be anything
but a punching bag
for someone else.

"I just want to love you tonight."

You say it again and I'm in the corner, on the floor,
crying and internally begging for the agony to subside.

You do not know he was there,
or that I saw him
or that he was staring at me.
As far as you are concerned,
my hard work has come to fruition
and our night should be filled with entangled passion
and pleasure.

I am inconsolable.

You reach for the belt and count off fifteen.
The black woven leather
leaves streaks, welts and bruises
that make the tears vanish and bring
peace to my breathing
and strength to my body
as I focus on
you
instead of the past.

Afterwards,
you can make love to me.
I can cum in rolling orgasms that
spill into the safety net
you have built one hour at a time
between us.

Sleepy and nestled in
the secure
grasp of your arms,
I hear you say,
"Someday, darling, we will get to a place where I can simply love you."

I want to believe.
You speak with conviction.
And I trust,
but I fear.
The two are never friends.
My trust is in you, not in me
and my fear
is embedded deep inside the hollows of a time that still haunts my dreams.

You continue to cheer
and support
even the tiniest of my accomplishments.
In turn,
I don't give in.
Instead
I battle on.

Thursday, June 2, 2016

104 Spanking Degrees

Eric is, quite simply, horny as all get out.

Our three day sex event was weeks ago but with school and work and time apart; he's been raring to go again for quite awhile.

Today, we planned a wildly passionate evening at home.

It is 104 degrees outside.

Eric told me to turn the a/c on at lunch.

I did.

At 6pm we met outside my office and had a quick bite to eat before heading home. The waitress could not stop staring and I'm sure she was eavesdropping as he promised me a night of pleasure.

"Finish everything on your plate, young lady, and when we get home I'm going to reward you by bringing out the harness and cuffs. You are going to look so hot tied to the, hey, you did turn the a/c on, didn't you?"

"Yes," I replied, annoyed our foreplay got interrupted with an a/c question as I unzipped his pants and began stroking his crotch under the table.

"Good. I'm going to cuff you to the end of the bed, right under that cold air and let it hit your nipples so they poke straight up and then I'll run a feather down your belly and in between your thighs, tracing every curve of your body before my tongue stretches between your legs to make sure you are wet and ready."

My hand was now clenching a cock hard enough to cut diamonds and we were ready to go.

Check paid.

In the cars.

Racing home.

The rest of it...

Giggly and playful, Eric slaps my butt and tells me to hurry as I struggle to get the key in the lock. We pull open the door and are greeted with a puff of thick, hot, stuffy air.

"Amy!" Eric's tone is not nice.  "You told me you turned the air on."

"I did!" I yelled, annoyed for the second time, that he doubted me.

"Obviously you didn't," he came back. "It's blazing in here.  I can hardly breathe!"

I was furious.

"How dare you doubt me," I snapped and grabbing his arm (this had to be the first time I ever did that!) pulled him over to the thermostat, which was turned ON.

"See," I was more than a little loud. "I did exactly what I said I did. It's on. Do you see it?  Do you see what it says?  It says O-N. Not O-F-F. O-N. That spells ON, so there!"

Perhaps, in a more traditional DD household, this kind of temper tantrum, talking-back, explosive behavior would not be tolerated but here, at 51%/49%, there wasn't any response other than an inquisitive look at the thermostat - which was, by all accounts, turned ON.

I stood, arms crossed, point proved, while Eric messed around with the buttons.  He went to the fuse box, flicked switches off and on, and read bits and pieces of the manual while I stomped around after him exclaiming how wrong it was that I was not trusted regarding the simple act of turning on the a/c and how unfair it was that he would question me like that and, and, and.

Eric ignored me while continuing to diagnose the problem.

"We have no electricity," he finally stated, reaching for the phone to call in our address.  I sat on the stairs, waiting to berate him some more, when I overheard a piece of the conversation that went something like this:

"I'm sorry.  Can you repeat that? You say the bill hasn't been paid in three months?! I'm sure there must be a mistake as my WIFE (he looked in, okay, he glared in my direction) switched the account to online auto pay about three months ago."

My mind did back flips trying to remember if I had ever completed the form to switch to paperless auto pay. I recalled going on the computer.  I recollected, setting everything up. Then it hit me; that moment in time when I realized I couldn't find my credit card so decided to return to it later.

Slowly, as my husband finished reading his credit card number to the electrical company accounting department, I crept backwards up the stairs in hopes of vanishing into our bedroom. I was alone for quite some time, hiding in the corner by the window, listening as the a/c popped on, clocks began ticking and lights flickered with the reinstatement of our power.

It had to be an hour before Eric came to the doorway. By then, the house was cooler and so was his temper. Without saying a word, he handed me a piece of paper where he had written down and numbered every single critical word I had uttered while he diagnosed and fixed the problem. At the bottom, circled in red ink, was the number 127.

Pants down, over his knee, I counted out 127 swats - some with his hand, some with a wooden spoon and some with his favorite small leather strap.  By the end, my ass was 104 degrees.

"Tomorrow, you will be disciplined for managing to get our power turned off," he said lining the implements up on the night stand. "That was just for your mouthiness this evening."

I nodded, looking rather pitiful, I'm sure but then he scooped me in his arms and kissed that pout right off my face.

"Time to play!" he said happily forgetting the interruption to our plans.. and out came the cuffs and toys.

Amy