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.