The newspaper comes at 3 and today there is an article about my boss.
I'm at home, waiting for it to arrive.
I go in our room.
The spanking chair sits vacant, but memories of me over your lap fill my brain.
You undress me, slowly, seductively.
You sit and pat your knee, "Come on Amy, you know what to do."
I collapse, safely nestled between your arms and legs as you start to rub and tap at my cheeks.
"Why are you getting spanked?" You will ask.
"What do we need to change today?" You will inquire.
"Talk to me." You will insist.
I look at the floor, hold on tight to the chair leg, and wait.
The spanks will ensue and grow in intensity.
I'll wiggle and squirm, answer what I can.
Your strap will start making an impression and I'll kick in the air.
"Legs down, young lady." You will be stern.
I'll move back into position but the next strike will be harder and followed by many quick swats.
My hand will reach back to cover my ass,
but you'll grab it tightly and keeping it against my back,
continue to punish me.
I'm waiting for the paper, on the chair you wait to spank me from.
I miss you.