I woke up, completely naked, lying on my back, with my husband straddling me at the waist on the bed. His hips were over my pelvic bones, his feet tucked under them at my sides, and he wore nothing but a pair of jeans and his belt. He toyed, gently with my breasts, while softly stroking my hair and skin.
"Wake up Amy Lynn," he cooed. "It's time to get ready for work."
My husband is to me, the most strong and handsome man I've ever met. Looking up at his chest, those piercing yet kind blue eyes, his smile; I breathed in the morning and caught my barrings.
Eric leaned in and kissed my face. His hands wrapped around my cheeks and he whispered in my ear, "What's going on, Sweetheart? You tossed and turned all night."
Then, on all fours, he listened intently as I explained how stressed I still am about my boss, how far behind I am falling at work, and how much pressure and anxiety I feel about a project that I have due tomorrow.
Eric nestled between my breasts and licked each nipple, bringing them to life. His hands slid the length of my arms until they grasped my wrists and then pulling them over my head, he watched as my fingers laced around the bars of our headboard.
Eric leaned into my ear once more,
"How can I help you?" he asked.
I paused, under the magical spell of a man who truly just wants life to be good for me and would move Heaven and earth to in order to make it happen. He was loving and frisky, being so sweet and sexual, but the tiny voice inside of me was crying out for something else today. Something that would clear my mind and take away the strain of the next two days.
The tiny voice spoke ever so softly, only the ears of a man intently listening and a few inches from my lips could hear the words, "I want you to punish me."
The pause, this time, belonged to Eric. His eyes and mine locked in place and then with his hand very close to my face, he slapped my left cheek and warned, "Be careful what you wish for, Amy Lynn, because I will give you what you need."
I took in a long slow breath and let the air fill the space between our noses.
"I want you to punish me," I said again. "I want you to spank me harder than you ever have before and I don't want you to stop until you're sure I can't take anymore."
Eric sat back, this time his butt resting tightly against my hips, holding them down.
"Keep your hands where they are," he said sternly and when I grasped the bars tighter, his palm crashed down, smacking my left boob with a sharp searing slap. I didn't move but continued to stare up at him.
"You want more?" he asked. "Tell me. Tell me, Amy Lynn. Tell you deserve this. Tell me you need this."
I have always had a hard time saying what I want or asking for what I need. This time, I said it all and once again, Eric's hand came down on the other breast.
My body tingled, nerves coming alive. Eric got off the bed and turned me over, placing two pillows under my hips so my ass was raised and exactly the right height for him. He pressed my hands into the headboard and clearly stated that I was not to move until he was done. Then, slowly, he undid the buckle on his belt and I listened as it slid out from each and every loop in his pants until he folded it over and uttered the words, "I mean it, girl. Don't move."
Eyes shut, hands in place, bottom exposed, Eric landed his belt across each cheek in a steady rhythmic succession.
SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.
My back broke out in a sweat and my butt went from pasty white, to baby pink, to rosy red. My body continued to respond, coming to life as my brain cleared, focusing only on the pain inflicted by the thick black leather and his words.
"You need this, Amy Lynn, and I'm just the man to give it to you."
"Tell me you've been a bad girl. Tell me you deserve this. Tell me."
SMACK, SMACK, SMACK.
Eric continued to whip me, reminding me I was to behave and get my work done, keep from letting my boss rent space in my brain, and be the person I have always wanted to be. When it was clear that I had reached my breaking point, Eric went to my ear one last time.
"Hold on and don't move. These last five are going to be the worst ones. You can cry out if you need to but if you move, I'm going to start counting again."
I nodded and the tears suddenly started to flow from my eyes. Not because of the spanking or the five that were coming. Not because of me, or my problems, or my fears. The tears came because I finally have a man intimate and close enough to me to allow me to be who I am, say what I need, and love me without ridicule, without judgement, without fear.
The belt came down fast and hard, five strikes in a row, and suddenly I was in his arms as the tears continued to flow. Eric held onto my body like our lives depended on it and didn't let go until I rested, limp and weak against his shoulder. Gently, he lay me down on the bed and I winced as my bottom settled into the sheets. Eric unbuttoned his jeans and stepped away once they hit the floor. He crawled, from the edge of the bed, over my body and kissed the salt from my eyes in between words of love, pride, and admiration for who I am, what I do, and where we are as a couple. The passion increased and we made love until there truly wasn't another second to spare before we would both be terribly late for our day.
As I bent down to pull my panties up, Eric's hand rested on my back and I heard his words one more time, "Don't move."
A moment later, my adorable husband drew his signature red heart on my battered and bruised left cheek, reminding me he does this in love.