Saturday, June 24, 2017

Riding the cancer train

A text
My younger sibling
Results are in
Confirmed
Skin cancer

"They'll cut it out"

Two weeks from now
A four inch scar
I'll be there

We ride this train together

Sunday, June 4, 2017

What is FetLife all about?

I read blogs.

People mention FetLife here and there; many quit blogging once they join.

They quit writing everyday and pop in now and then to say their lives have changed drastically.

I watch videos.

People share email addresses and stories.

FetLife names pop up now and then.

The actors refer to each other by them.

I wonder.

What's it all about?

Can you enlighten me?

Amy


Saturday, June 3, 2017

Scolded by the wrong man

Discipline, punishment, spanking.

I can't explain why I crave it or what it does for me but when done correctly, it gives me the confidence and strength to conquer the world. I become Wonder Woman under the care and guidance of a strong, solid, squared away man.

My boss scolded me last night and again this morning.
I am sick to my stomach.
I feel stupid and insecure.
Worthless.
Not valued.

Eric has stripped me of my clothing, forced me to lay naked across his lap, paddled my bottom until I begged him to stop, and then watched as I squirmed in the corner.  He has called me "young lady" and grabbed me by the arm, marched me upstairs, and taken his belt to my backside.  He has pulled my hair, lectured me, and made me look at my red punished ass in the mirror while I mapped out how to behave better.

Not once.  Not one single moment in time, did Eric ever make me feel anything but loved and respected.  Not once, did I question my self esteem, or purpose, or ability under his hand.

Two extremes, a scolding by email and hard core mental, physical and emotional correction. It is the email that has me in tears.

I wish Eric was home so I could disappear in his arms and hide from a cruel cruel world.

Amy

Worth the Wait

Eric is back at work, traveling for an indeterminate amount of time.

I type from his spot in our bed. His scent lingering on the pillow propped under my head.

Last night, too late, packing and finalizing schedules, arranging meetings and dealing with email. I baked cookies, washed sheets, vacuumed, while I waited.  Loving Eric requires a lot of waiting.

11:00 pm and the suitcase finally closed, finding it's place at the front door. We were both tired. Long weeks, long days.

When Eric wraps his arms around my body and presses his lips against mine, time stops and the world melts away.  I close my eyes and breathe in his strength; passion, security and love.

We jumped in the shower; wet soapy skin, his cock growing under my touch, a light smack on butt cheeks with the steam rising around us.

I'm over his knee on the spanking chair; too loud so we move to the closet, where four hard smacks with the hairbrush have my knees shaking.

Back to the bed, sudden sexual explosion.  Black leather cock ring on him, black leather cuffs on me; legs spread and deep penetrating invasion of all the right spots.  I'm upside down holding the rails of the foot board. We switch and I ride his cock while he lays back watching boobs bounce and hair cascade around my shoulders.  I'm over the bed, bottom spanked, ass penetrated with a toy, body convulsing and screams buried in the covers.  On my back, Eric goes down and licks the pulsing, twitching clit as my brain swims in a sea of pleasure.  He hands me a toy and I play where his tongue left gentle kisses while he cums; thick, salty, white all over my tits.

Another shower and we crawl under crisp cool sheets.  Daylight comes too soon and with the tiniest bit of sun rays slipping through the blinds, I catch the outline of Eric's face and wonder, "Who is this man in my bed?  Who is this man who has studied me to the point that at times, I believe he knows more about me than I know of myself?"

My fingers cannot resist reaching out and checking to see if he's real.  Smooth soft skin, their tips dance along his hairline, across his back and arms, over his balls.  He stirs and I know I should just leave him alone, let him sleep for one more minute.  My fingers do not listen and he moans under the pressure of their gentle caresses. I massage his hands, a thank you for holding, spanking, pinching, pulling, grabbing, stroking and invading me.

It becomes too late to stay in bed any longer.  The shower turns on and Eric is dressed before I get a chance to feel him inside me again.  There is no time for a leisurely chat over breakfast, no moment for a quick round of discipline, no continuation of our night of passion.  A quick kiss and a hug, he's at the door when I hand him a bag of cookies.

Eric apologizes for being so late in prepping for his trip but asks, "Was it worth the wait?"

Yes, my darling.  You are always worth the wait.

Amy

Monday, May 29, 2017

Spanked at the beach

Overcast sky, almost brooding in nature
Dust covered trail winding up the mountain pass
Lines of tiny flowers, white, purple, yellow, orange
dotting the hillside.

We are on the new man and new woman program
partnered in healthy eating, hiking
losing those extra pounds brought on by school, travel, stress.

The conversation is light
while our long sleeves feel heavy 
as the sun pokes through the blanket of clouds

The trail goes on, mile after mile,
until we reach the peak and can see out over the sea.
The trek down is quick, 
bee colonies swarming around overgrown bushes
encouraging us to move faster toward the end.

A tunnel, the path turning from dry dust to wet sand,
exits onto a brightly sun drenched beach
with waves rising tall and crashing in foamy sheets of
blues, greens and grays.

I kick off my shoes and Eric grabs my wrist.

"No Amy," he says, like I am a naive child. "The waves are too strong.
We'll go when the tide gets lower."

I pull away, laughing and tease him for being such a worry wart.

"I'm just going to get my toes wet," I say, backing into the ice cold water
and beaming at him as the sand beneath my toes sinks underfoot.

Suddenly, I am consumed by a large powerful blast of wet salty water
and I'm spinning in the ocean, pulled farther out to sea.

Once again, Eric grabs my wrist, his tennis shoes and socks now drenched
as he drags me back to shore.  Matted sandy ponytail, I shake my head and
sputter, choking to expel the sea in my lungs and seaweed tangled throughout my hair.

I am hugged, my face is clasped in Eric's hands and he kisses wet salty lips.
I know there was a moment he was afraid;
afraid of a life of having to jump in and rescue me,
afraid even more of losing me.

We walked back to the car and took off everything that allowed us to remain decent.
Bare feet on the pedals, Eric pulled out of the parking lot and headed back to our cabin.
The original plan, lunch on the rooftop, abandoned for a hot bubble bath and dry clothes.

As we turned onto the highway, Eric's whimsical smile faded and his stern authoritative tone took command.

"Over my lap, Amy Lynn," he ordered.

Face buried in the fabric of his running shorts, I endured the sting of Eric's hand 
slapping hard against wet spandex. There were no breaks between his swats.  No
warm up or gentle caresses. My ass, one cheek, poised at the perfect angle for a
truly memorable punishment, took it all.

When he finished, I sat back in my seat, that warm tingling burn on the right side reminding me
to listen when my husband tells me to wait.

I stare out the window, stripes on the road, tiny flowering bushes lining streets, a hillside creeping with vines and big yellow blossoms.  

The glass is wet, splattered with drops from the sea, spraying the window as my spanking ensued. 

Sunday, May 28, 2017

Spanked at the bar

We know the bar owner.

He's young and hip and has a million sexy girls at his place trying to wiggle their way in rather than wait in line, pay the cover or miss the opportunity to be part of his guest list.

We're older than most of the crowd and they eye us, hand in hand, making our way beyond the velvet place holders, straight to the bouncer with his clipboard and ID checker.
We are in and the place is jumping.
Lights, music, a DJ in a giant birdcage controlling the beat and mood of a packed dance floor.

Eric shakes hands and I hug the bar owner, receive a kiss on each cheek.

"She's beautiful," he says to my husband, who nods and mouths, "I know."

I dance.  I dance like there is no tomorrow.
Young men reach out, touch my shoulders, hair and body.  They pull me away from Eric, beg for my attention and call me "baby".

I dance and dance.
I spin and twirl.
I laugh and make my way around the men and back to Eric.

There is one, bold beyond reason, who won't take no for an answer.
I swing to his right and he grabs my left.
My arms reach high as I turn in his hands, a ballerina stuck on a little girls jewelry box.
Eric leans back against a pillar and watches the overzealous stud, toy with his wife.
I glow in the attention of two suitors, one real and one imagined.
The beat quickens and our feet and hands move in time to the rhythm.
Sweat runs down my back and I glisten under a mirrored ball.
The song ends and Eric grabs the back of my hair, pulling my ear to his lips.

"He's too young for you pretty girl," he snarls and I catch his eye, knowing full well he is honored that another man wants what he has.

We stay until well past midnight and last call comes and goes.
The wayward drunks wobble out to the streets and the bar owner offers us a round on him.
Eric is tired but I want to stay.

"Whatever you like, love."

We chat about how we all met, years ago, and laugh about the memories we share.
The bar owner cleans glasses, closes bottles and wipes down sticky counters.
He goes to the ice maker and taking a large flat wooden spoon, cracks through large pieces that melted and molded, refreezing into a sheet of tiny squares bound together inside the machine.

"May I?" Eric asks, reaching out for the spoon.

The bar owner hands over the spoon, curiosity splashed across his brow. He watches as Eric gently touches the tip to my chin and draws an invisible line to the other side of the bar where I sit. I understand, swallow hard and lean across the counter, my hips resting where my hands had just been.

Fresh night air comes in through a partially open window and brushes across the skin of my cheeks when Eric raises my skirt and bares my bottom. I'm sure the DJ can see.

Twelve hard swats have me clutching the bar, my face and ass matching, a bright shade of crimson in front of our friend.

Skirt down and spoon resting on the counter, Eric leads me to the dance floor and nods in the direction of the bird cage. The DJ plays Thinking Outloud and I twirl and spin once again, this time in the arms of the man I love.

Still flushed, we bid our host farewell and head back to the hotel. Chilled mist from the ocean waves cool flaming red cheeks, spanked at the bar.

Amy

You are that girl

The long weekend,
memories of graduation:
the pride on Eric's face,
my children,
coworkers, 
friends.

"You are that girl," he says.

He knows the want, the desire, the goal.
He knows the struggle, the battles, the suffering.

"You are that girl."

This pretty pony marches across the stage, 
exuding confidence, intelligence and class,
making years of work look effortless.

"You are that girl."

I'm leaving for the beach,
this time to celebrate rather than run.
Next week we will make the symbolic trek
to check off the box
to finalize the goal
and talk about the future.

"You are that girl."

Tell me what you want,
tell me what you need,
tell me where we go from here.

You tell me, Eric.
I am that girl,
and you,
are that guy.

Amy

Monday, May 15, 2017

Graduation Day

It took a whole lot of this...




to get here...



but I made it.

Related image

Eric!


Image result for penguin hero

You are my hero.


Image result for penguin love


Amy

Thursday, March 16, 2017

Kiss Me, Spank Me, Fuck Me - The Blue Funk has Ended

Today was miraculous, to say the least.

I have been a wreck.  Nothing seeming possible and everything a huge struggle.

Eric has been gone.  Not just absent from home, but absent from himself, me, us.

We shared our typical morning of late.  I raced around the neighborhood trying to keep my anxiety down.  He sat on the phone, complaints about the workload never ending and a personal lack of drive to do anything.

We agreed to text between his flights but then, the miracle happened.  Eric's flight was cancelled and he had to be rerouted.  Of all things, he had to change planes at our local airport!  It took me an hour to abandon work, hit the freeway, find parking and race to a restaurant but I made it and HE LOOKED AMAZING.  My wonderful handsome husband was parked in an orange plastic booth, in the flesh, staring at me with his gorgeous blue eyes and his melt-my-heart smile.

We were like teenagers in love for the first time.  His toe found it's way in my dress under the table while I rolled the spoon around my tongue as though I were toying with his cock.  We stared into each other's eyes, oblivious of anyone else in the world.  He ordered me to the restroom to remove my panties and take a picture of what was hidden underneath.  I returned and handed him a red satin thong and a brightly lit photo on my phone.

Giddy, Eric jumped up and did the same.  He kept his undies but I got a picture of something I've been missing for far too long.

"Squishy," I told him.  "That's what you make me."

We kissed some more and then his fingers found their way under the table, through my dress and into my squishy lips.

I giggled.  He felt so good.

"Hey pretty girl," he teased, "I just want to pull you over this table and fuck you right here."

"I'm in!" I yelled.

He laughed and reached out grabbing my hair into two ponytails.

"You are so naughty Amy Lynn," he scolded moving my head back and forth.  "I don't know if I want to fuck you or spank you more."

The heat in my bottom rose at the mention of a spanking and we'd already established the squishy factor.  I could tell he was heating up as well, a deep red hue across his cheekbones.

"There's a his/her bathroom in the hallway," Eric suggested.  There were only forty minutes until his next flight but we were both ready and willing.  Lunch, half eaten, was paid for and we found ourselves racing down the hall to a "Closed for Cleaning" sign.

"Ugh!" Eric exclaimed, the bulge in his trousers ready to burst.

We ran down further in hopes of finding another location but then his phone rang, a client, and he had to take it.

I didn't even get to say good-bye.  The client talked our time away and then Eric was off, that sexy butt running up an escalator while I waved and blew kisses.

Back at work, it was like I was lost in a dream.  Our unexpected lucky break got cut short but oh how much happier we both are anyway.

My love.  Kiss me, spank me, fuck me or just spend twenty miraculous minutes flirting with me at the airport.

I love you Eric!!!

Amy-the-Squishy-Lynn

Monday, March 13, 2017

You Are Lovable

Eric is slammed at work.

He's not happy about it but he's dedicated.

We finally caught up tonight.

I told him the most horrible thoughts in my head.

He kept stopping me on one point.

"You are lovable"

He said it over and over.

If I believe nothing else,

it's what he wants me to know.

Chemically I can't handle certain drugs.

This will end.

I want to be back to myself.

I want to believe Eric.

I want to be lovable.

Something is Not Right

I'm up in the middle of the night again.

My joints hurt.  Seriously hurt.

My toes and fingers are swollen and no matter how much water I drink, I'm massively dehydrated.

For a few days now, I'd say I have a black cloud of doubt hanging over my head.  Everything seems impossible.  I don't believe in anything and question everything.

Last night I convinced myself everyone around me, everyone in my life, despises me.  I believe Eric is fed up with me and is leaving; trying to figure out how to stay as far away from me as possible.  I think my boss wants to eliminate my job and that I'll be broke and homeless in a matter of days.

I don't want to see or talk to anyone.  My social skills seem utterly inadequate to get through a conversation and I'm afraid of offending someone so I don't want to leave my room.

None of this is normal for me.  Something is not right.

I have been awake for hours but have no drive to be productive or move forward.  In times past, when things are bad, I run to solve things.  I have no energy to run.  I just want to vanish.

What is wrong with me?

What is different?

All I can think of is I started a new birth control pill ten days ago.  Nothing else that I can pinpoint has changed.  People, friends, coworkers, Eric - I don't think any of them have changed but my feelings of how they view me has become emotionally distressing. It's not like there was an event or something that happened.  On the contrary, good things have been occurring but I discount the positive and obsess about the negative.

I'm convinced I'm going to fail this semester.  I've gotten three papers back.  All 100%.  My logic is completely flawed but my feelings are extreme.

Could it be the pill?

I'm going to write my doctor an email and see what he thinks.  I'm also going to avoid people so I don't say something I don't mean or will regret later.  Everything seems so bleak. My body hurts.

I need sleep.

Amy

Sunday, March 12, 2017

Ten Hard Swats Vs. Forty Well Placed Spanks

Eric is gone for the rest of the month and I'm really floundering with midterms, work and an overwhelming sense of loneliness.

Last night I woke up at 2am and could not go back to sleep.  I got on the computer and watched some videos.  There is a series of  "Training Gracie" that caught my eye on Spanking Tube. Her boyfriend is overseas in the military so she's being disciplined by a hired hand.  Click here. I learned a lot watching all five episodes.

I always thought of a spanking as a quick over-the-knee hard ten swats.  It would hurt like hell while it was happening but then the burning afterwards was amazing.  Eric has figured out how much I can take and when I throw my hand back, a sign I'm over the edge, he will pin my wrist down and go for that ten.  Then, I'm in the corner for the short lived sting.  My brain is clear for awhile but the burn wears off far too soon unless we add capsicum cream to make it last longer.

I watched the hired hand and got to see a different style.  I liked the conversation as much as the punishment.  He involved her mind as well as her body; used multiple implements and always included corner time and a lesson learned. He was just a hired hand so there was no love or forgiveness at the end, but I know that part comes into play with my husband.

Anyway, as I was watching, I found myself counting.  The hired hand always started over her shorts, followed by an equal punishment on her bare bottom.  Then he'd move onto another implement and in many cases, go through the same routine.  I counted an average of forty well placed spanks each time. In one episode, he made the girl choose her own switch. Another time he made her count out eleven with shorts on and eleven with them off.  Intense, more what I'm used to.

After watching the videos and still unable to sleep, I got up and cleaned out our toy chest.  I used every implement we own on my ass; five swats on each cheek.  By the time I crawled back in bed, I was quite warm.  I reached under the mattress to tuck the computer away and my hand touched the hairbrush, a most painful implement that somehow didn't make it's way back to the chest the last time it was used.

I rolled on my side and took that brush to my boy shorts forty times.  By the end, my cheek was on fire with a nice steady burn that lasted longer than I expected.  My shorts came down and again, forty spanks on that same cheek.  I watched the clock and felt the sting for over a half hour before I finally nodded off.

I can't wait until Eric comes home.  I want to try my newfound technique.  Surely there is a time and place for each but I think a long lasting series of well placed spanks is something he and I will both enjoy.  I also want to be forced to choose my own switch and experience the cutting edge that put her so quickly on alert.

Thank you to Gracie and hired hand from Connecticut. You got me through one more night without my love and have given us both something to look forward to trying.

Amy

Saturday, March 11, 2017

Spank Me and Kiss Me - That's All You Need to Know

Sometimes I am such a child.

With that comes a wondrously playful, mischievous, creative side that brings adventure to even the most mundane of situations.  Life is a game with daily roles played out based on mood, situation, and location. Eric, a well respected and professional leader, enjoys the light hearted nature this silly wife brings to his world and often steps up to play with me as well.  We mentally thrive in verbal fantasy when we are apart and physically thrive even more when we are home or on the road together.

Unfortunately, too much of a good thing can go too far and when there is not balance, I get lost in a sea of doubt and hurt feelings; unable to respond in a logical adult manner but pouting my way through the emotions instead.  It blindsides me and I don't figure it out until it is too late.

For Eric, I'll suddenly appear to be all over the board and his frustration will mount as he tries to hit a moving target.  A good man, he wants to solve my problems and be whatever and whomever I need at all times. If the path he chooses yields an unexpected response, he often will stop talking and may even leave for a bit to work out another solution.  The child inside me cries, unable to get past a sense of abandonment and incapable of realizing he will return.

In times like this, we both forget the primary issue that spurred my momentary behavior is always secondary to a truly easy fix that I desperately need.  No matter what is going on, if Eric takes the time to make me feel safe and loved, provide me the security of being his girl, I will be unbreakable.

When we are together, this can be accomplished with a passionate kiss in his arms or a trip over his knee.  Both distract my brain from whatever is clogging my ability to productively problem solve and rationally move forward.  The kiss provides a coating of confidence around my heart and a red ass clears the clutter of doubt in my mind.

When we are apart, the same thing can me accomplished with the words, "I love you" and a stern lecture or directions to follow, thus refocusing my brain.  Sometimes a round of self discipline and corner time with Eric in my ear backs me away from the cliff; while other times a good cum with a toy and his voice on the line gets my wheels churning again.  In extreme situations when there is little time and great distance between us, even the promise of a night of passion or the threat of an old fashioned spanking will be enough to keep me grounded.

The happy child in me naively believes I can do anything I set my mind to and will never stop trying as long as I have the security of love.  When life puts bumps in the road, they can be dealt with together or often, I can handle them on my own as long as that sense of security and love is in place.

The insecure child in me fears Eric will get annoyed and stop loving me, will change his mind or will leave me or worse, never come home to me but vanish instead. During those moments, I shut down and freeze.  Both situations may be irrational but such is the mind of a grown up child.  Many times the insecurity is not even caused by him but an infusion of security from him can end my suffering.

Just spank me and kiss me.  That's all you need to know.

Amy

Saturday, March 4, 2017

A question... what would your husband think?

Hi Bloggers,

I asked, begged actually, Eric to keep me accountable about not eating candy.  I made it almost three months without eating any, though we had many conversations about it and at the end of one, agreed I could have a dark chocolate covered apricot once in awhile.

Last night, I ate a caramel. No conversation. No thought.  Just bought it at the register and devoured it.  Am actually surprised it happened that way; that it happened at all.  I was so tired and it was a long night of studying and .... that's not my question.

Eric is out of town.  We've talked twice since last night and I didn't mention it.  I blogged it yesterday. Figured he'll see it when he sees it and then we will talk about it.

The question:  Is that a dumb idea?  Should I be telling him before he's back next week?  Is he going to be more upset that he read about it or will it be better so he can think about it before he is back?

What would your husband's think? Say? Do?

I'm starting to question more than my lack of resistance for the candy.  Just give me your thoughts.  I figure I have until Friday to do the right thing if this is not it.

Image result for wax paper caramel

Amy

The Resistance Has Failed Her

In the 17th hour
of this 20 hour day,
the resistance has failed her
and Amy has eaten a piece of caramel candy.

So sorry.

Sunday, February 19, 2017

A weekend without Eric



I miss you, my love

We chatted on the phone while I shopped for new toys
Ben Wa Balls - I decided on the Noir Lelo Luna Beads
So elegant, the packaging
Sleek black box with a satin bag to keep them in

I wore them down to the beach,
watched the waves crash up against the rocks
and wondered what they were supposed to be doing to me

My mind drifted back to my last spanking.
You had my wrists overhead on the closet shelf
And your hand held tight to your favorite strap
As you punished me for overdosing on caffeine and diet pills

Today, I need to study and keep my focus on school
It is you who fills my mind.

I tried to make myself cum with images of you in my head.
The Ben Wa Balls didn't do much,
a straight vibrator did a bit more.

Self discipline with a plastic hanger and a metal spatula,
a round with a leather belt.

Am I studying?
Obviously not.

I walk along the shore and imagine you finding me,
taking me home
and punishing me for misbehaving and procrastinating.
I read and write and do my homework with a red ass
and a half pout on the lips
that will kiss you at night
while you ride in and out
where the Ben Wa play.

Forget working, my love.
Come join me!

Amy

Saturday, February 11, 2017

Not a good day

My mother's husband had a heart attack today.

He's still alive so that is good news.

He's in the hospital two hours from her.

She's home alone waiting for word; unable to drive at night.

I'm thousands of miles from them and wishing I could be a better daughter right now.

Eric is away.

I haven't let him know.

Wednesday, February 8, 2017

A brutal spanking

Do you ever just need or want or crave a brutal spanking?

I'm trying to do so much.  School is back in session, work requirements are through the roof, Sara is Sara and living with us. I'm exercising and dieting, there are travel plans this year, financial strains and car issues.  It all builds up inside me.  I said yes to all of these things and am determined to reach my goals but internally, I'm losing ground and feel as though I am slipping down a muddy embankment. There is nothing to grasp, nothing to catch my fall. I desperately dog pile in hopes of latching onto something familiar and known.

This is where I become critical and mean.  I am cruel and not nice to the grown-up girl on the outside.  I tell her she's not that pretty, she's not that smart.  I remind her of failures from the past and the old mantra, "you are not lovable" begins to play over and over again. Not good enough. Not worthy. Not valued. I tell her she's spoiled, has no right to complain, is luckier than many and not nearly as deserving.

None of these statements are factual. Intellectually I know this but the child inside believes the voices of others who planted seeds at a vulnerable time.

Eric works steadily to erase the negative broken record of a lifetime I fight to leave behind.  He talks about how small and insignificant the rear view mirror is compared to the large windshield.  He tells me he loves me, would move Heaven and earth for me, and is my greatest cheerleader. On most days, I see the future as bright and worth working towards. On bad days, I see the future as a place of heartache and lost love; parents, friends, co-workers.

When the voices in my head worm their way into my day, I discover the side of me who is a bully.  I want Eric to find that mean girl and punish her intensely.  I want him to uncover her ugliness, destroy and replace it with the truly happy and positive me who is hiding inside.  The one who grows and thrives and believes in the beauty of life rather than fearing the sadness of loss.

I long for the whole experience.  I want to be threatened that discipline is coming and I want to become anxious in that period of anticipation.

I need to hear him lecture, firm and commanding in stance and in tone. "No girl of mine is going to be a bully. I'll set you straight..." and so on.

I crave being put into position for a brutal beating with his belt or the paddle through my jeans.  Slow and deliberate.  Each swat breaking out in beads of sweat down my spine. Each strike searing his words to my ass, a memory felt for a long time to come.

I want to be stripped and given corner time, put over his knee for another round with his hand, the strap, a hairbrush.  When I fight, I want him to clasp my wrist to my back and continue to spank until I give in and fall limply across his lap with tears releasing all that is bottled inside.

At that point, I want to forgive and be forgiven.  Battered and bruised I want to curl up in his arms and feel his strength bathe me in acceptance and understanding.  No more bully, no more mean girl. Just Amy and Eric, with a lifetime ahead of us.

Monday, February 6, 2017

Still floating

After a week away, Eric came home and held me close on our bed. His lips, so passionate against mine, taking his time to kiss and cuddle as though there were not another care in the world.

Eventually we stood and Eric pulled my dress up over my head, telling me how pretty I am as his eyes scanned my body.  Bra and panties gone, I began to unbutton his pants; fingers searching, finding, grasping, stroking.

"Not yet," he said, backing away and leading me to the closet.  Sara was downstairs with the television on and our bed can squeak quite loudly so I felt certain he meant to avoid the noise of welcome home sex while tucked behind a second closed door.

Once inside, Eric took a scarf from the hook and covered my eyes, pinching my nipple and pecking my neck.  He left for just a moment and then returned, with the spanking chair and his favorite strap.

"You've been a very bad girl, Amy," he cooed in my ear.  His hands grabbed my ass and began to tap it softly as a lecture ensued.

"You drank five hour energies, took diet pills, pounded caffeine and sugar without saying a word to me for six weeks last quarter."

I nodded, truly ashamed of my go-to when stress and lack of sleep kick in.

"Should I leave you?" he asked and a lump grew in my throat in time with the tears in my eyes.

"No Sir," I said.  "Please don't leave me."

"Other men would," he commented.

"Other men have," I was clear.

"You are not with other men anymore," Eric stated, sitting and gesturing for me to lay across his lap.

The strap was harsh, no warm up and a sting against cold skin in a closet without heat.  When he finished, I was told to stand and place my hands above my head on the rack.  Again, the strap came down on my ass, then strayed to my thighs, then slapped hard across my back.

"You will not go down this road again," Eric commanded and I agreed, made promises and felt the power of his discipline wash over me.  I took the beating as best as I could, a long time since my last encounter with pain through leather.

Eric returned the chair and I dropped to my knees, eyes full of apologies as he rode in and out of my mouth.  I made him rock hard and he handed me the mouthwash so we could continue to kiss.

On the bed, Eric made sure I was listening to each and every word. "I fell in love with you Amy Lynn, as you are. Do not ever take diet pills or self medicate or change for me.  Do you understand?  I love you. Not some drug induced version of you. I will help you make changes if that's what you want, but we will do it in a healthy way."

Eric made love to me.  The kind of love that makes you catch your breath, his hand tightly clutching my wrist, my legs spread wide, my body drinking him all the way inside.

As he showers, I lie here with a bruised bottom and a healed heart.  My journey to be better and do better will continue without the fear or threat of being left by the man I love.  I am human and will make mistakes, but he's not the type to cut and run.

There is no greater feeling.

Still floating...

Amy

Sunday, February 5, 2017

Sara needs more than a spanking

Eric has been here but not here, all at the same time.  His January travel budget was drastically cut so his feet have stayed on the ground but work has been all consuming; his time, his conversation, his mind. I see him very little as we struggle to mesh calendars and fit the pieces of our lives together enough to have some quality time in each other's arms. February brings travel back and the strain of changing times reads heavily on his face.

For me, school is once again in session and my job is as demanding as usual.  I battle with my inability to keep to a schedule of healthy exercise, eating and sleep.  It affects my mood and my weight; and not necessarily in that order. Plans frequently slip out the window as deadlines approach, homework increases and drama ensues.

Sara is the drama in our home and my cousin from New Orleans.  She's young and impetuous with legs that won't quit, jet black hair with bangs, a sleek little bob hair style, and the reddest fire engine lipstick money can buy.  She wears short skirts and dresses that show off her cheeks if she ever bends to pick something up off the floor, with high high heels and two tone sun glasses framing her face. Her suitors come sniffing around, often in pairs, and she's not the least bit shy about making eyes and flirting with them all in the room.  She has no job and no source of income, yet she never seems to go without. We took her in after my family begged us to save her from a slippery slope in the land of Mardi Gras.  We were clear, "No alcohol, no drugs, back to school".  She's in her twenties and keeps to our rules but "No men" was not one of them.

It's been almost six weeks since Sara crashed at our house.  Quite frankly, it is nice to have someone around to walk the dog, have dinner with when my husband works late and bring life back into a place that used to bustle with children living full happy lives.  She's bright and fun with a classy look on the edge of call girl; in many ways, Sara is mesmerizing.

Eric and I had planned a weekend in the snow two weeks ago.  We left Sara to watch the house and care for the dog.  Half way to the slopes, the road was closed so we headed back late in the evening. I believe every light in the house was on when we returned.  It was practically glowing from a block away.  Eric and I couldn't park in the garage as our driveway was filled with multiple cars so he parked on the street and took my hand, leading me to the backyard where tall windows served as eyes to our living room.

Live porn.  That's the only way to describe it.  Right there on the floor near the sliding glass door. There were two men, Sara and another girl, naked and entangled with arms, legs, lips; every sexual crevice being either touched or tasted.  Four camera's angled around the group and mid-action, one of the men stopped everyone to change the height of a tri-pod.  We stood there; mouths open, eyes gawking, for an eternity.

I angrily reached for the door but Eric grabbed my wrist and pulled me back to the car.  We drove to a local hotel as I sputtered and downloaded every single thought as it crossed my mind.  "What the hell was that?  Who does she think she is?  In our home? Are you kidding me?" I went through it all and then turned on my husband. "Why are we leaving? Aren't you going to do something?!"

He laughed.  Eric actually laughed.

"Look at you," he said.  "That girl has got you by the tail and all spun up.  She's a grown woman and can make her own choices in life.  It's none of our business how she makes a living. I'll handle it."

The next day, we returned home to a clean house, a well fed dog and my cousin Sara.  She had laundry running, was taking an on-line class and there was even a chicken roasting in the oven.

"You're back early!" she exclaimed.  "I didn't expect you until tonight."

Eric grinned.

"The roads were closed," he said, eye brows rising on his forehead as he drilled his gaze directly through to her core.  "We came back last night."

Sara froze right there in her chair, a myriad of possibilities running through her mind.  It was obvious that he, that we, knew.

"Never again in my house," he stated after a pause long enough to choke a horse.

She went scarlet and looked down at the floor.

"You can stay but somebody deserves one hell of a spanking."

That was it.  Eric went upstairs and when a barrage of criticism began to spill from my lips, he placed his hand tightly over my mouth and pulled me into his chest.

"It's done." he said firmly.  "She won't do it again.  At least not here."

His grip lessened and I backed away, ready to spew another round of my opinion.

A scolding finger caught my sentences before they escaped.

"Another word and the spanking will be yours."

Time makes it less awkward, the unspoken tension between my cousin and me.

Eric took his stand and I have kept quiet. He has "handled it".

Sara's skirts are longer this week.

Amy

Monday, January 9, 2017

SpankingTube - The Resolution to my Resolution

Happy New Year Bloggers!

2017: Twelve Months of a Determined Me

I decided before Christmas, as I downed boxes of candy and put on boxes of pounds,
that I needed to get serious about getting to a place where I felt:

  • Comfortable in my clothes
  • Naturally energetic
  • Fit and fabulous


The answer?

I told Eric "I want to go a whole year exercising every possible day and living without caffeine or sugar. I want you to hold me accountable."

He said nothing but wished me luck with that one.

I made it through Christmas without so much as a chocolate or coffee.

I went past New Years without a nibble or a taste.

Eric and I had a serious conversation.

"I want you to learn moderation, honey."

True.  I won't eat one bite size snickers.  I'll eat the whole box.

"I'm not ready for moderation," I exclaimed.  "I'm still on the all or nothing plan."

The subject was dropped but my husband did say how impressed he was that I'd make it thus far.

Days later, Eric introduced me to SpankingTube and we watched a few videos to get a feel for what other people do.

"Find me a video that blows you away," he challenged.

I did.  Seven minutes.  She didn't pack for a trip, disregarding his constant reminders.  Seven minutes. She is dressed, across his lap, spanked time and time again as he lectures.  Eventually she can't take it anymore and he stops, only to remove her pants and begin again.  Bottom red, she apologizes and he lays her over a bench and takes off his belt.  The whipping begins again.  One after the other, after the other.  I was safely fascinated; knowing full well that I was not in trouble and that Eric had never gone to that extreme with me.

We watched the full seven minutes together and talked about what had happened.

"Are you still doing your no sugar, no caffeine thing?" Eric asked.

I nodded, happily ready to move onto something else.

"Seven minutes," he stated sternly.  "A bite of sugar, a drop of caffeine, and we will pull out this video and follow it precisely."

I've almost gone three weeks but today was surprisingly difficult.  I had the opportunity for a large snickers with the odds of Eric finding out, slim to none.

"Seven minutes," I told myself.  "Do you really want that seven just to eat some crap?"

My ass gave a resounding NO.

This just might work.