Saturday, December 24, 2016

The last day of the semester - motivational spanking

It went simply like this:

"Good morning Sweet Pea. What do you have to do today?"

"Work, finish my presentation, class, finish my paper, sleep."

We made love, he went to his job and I got in the shower.



following a wonderful morning,

but looking forward to a stack of books,

I went back to bed.

He called two hours later and shooed me off to work.

I slept again.

He called to follow up and told me in no uncertain terms to "GET MOVING".

I did.  Bed made, clothes on, laundry going, dishes put away, house picked up, trash taken out...
the list goes on, school not being on it and work not coming into play.

Eric called one more time.  I rattled off the list of things I'd done. I was all over the place.

"Upstairs right now, young lady."

Eric was not happy.  He told me to take Sir Strap out of the chest and he wanted to hear five slaps to each cheek over the phone.  "Hard enough I can hear them or you are starting again."

I did my best.  Five good one's on the right but three weak one's on the left so we started over and I took eight on that side.

"Thank you honey," I said feeling a sense of focus coming back to my head.

"I can't believe I had to leave my office to set you straight."

Mind you, I had just self disciplined and Eric has his own private office so why he had to leave, I couldn't imagine until a moment later, when I heard the front door.

A quick minute later, my heart pounding so hard I thought it would leave my chest, Eric was in our room positioning me bent over and holding onto the spanking chair, finishing what I had started.

"That was your warm up," he commented as I whined that I'd just been spanked.

What I achieved on my own with a big leather strap was one tenth what Eric dished out with his belt.I'm sure the combination of my shock, complete overload and the actual pain is what sent me over the edge to a few tears and some wobbly knees.

A kiss goodbye and I was on fire.  Ass burning, I jumped on the schoolwork while multi-tasking at my job, got to class early and aced the presentation, finished my paper with time to spare and was home before eleven.

What can I say?  It works.

Eric waited with open arms.  He kissed my blistered bottom, soothed my skin with lotion and told me how proud he is that I've finished one more semester.  I truly don't know what I would do without that man.


Friday, December 9, 2016

Discipline me, Darling

Eric has returned.
A new sense of mortality,
has him off kilter.
Naturally headstrong, solid and steady
it has thrown his balance
and he feels more intently
breathes more deeply
and at times, carries the heavy weight of inevitability.

From this place, there is a part of Eric that has blossomed.
A new tenderness,
a gentleness,
an understanding
that I soak into my skin
as I lie in the safety of his arms on our couch.
He sees me,
hears me,
and reaches out to calm the rough waters in my own mind.

Soft kisses,
his rough tongue
painting lines as he drinks
in my body,
in hopes of providing and finding security as one.

"Will you discipline me Darling?"
I ask, small shallow little girl voice,
the first time such words have come from my lips.

Eric says not a word.
His eyes drill into my gaze
as his mind tosses my sentence around in his head.
I have never asked for this.
Never requested, out loud,
the taboo I crave in our marriage.

We stand and he takes me up the stairs,
his hand wrapped tightly around my wrist,
his steps full of purpose.

He goes for his belt,
familiar black woven leather,
the very first
implement he ever punished me with.

Our eyes meet and a wave of anticipation
runs from my bottom through my spine.
The same wave
filtrates throughout his fingers and hand.

"Ask me again," he says and I quickly look to the floor.

Eric grasps under my chin
and he raises my eyes back to his.

"Ask me again."

I pause, only to burn this moment to memory

"Will you discipline me?"

This time my voice is sure of it's request.

Over his knee,
dress above my waist,
his hands warm my buns
as his cock grows into my ribs.

Over his knee,
dress above my waist,
we both want this.
It has been too long,
the time has come,
we need this.

He spanks and a pale
pink hue rises like the sun in the morning.

my body is bent over the side of the bed,
my ass on display
for the man who will set the world straight for me.

The belt is harsh
but reassuring
as it slaps down
in time
with the beating of our hearts.

The heat intensifies and I can't take it anymore.
I dance,
I squirm,
I cry out
and a long line of sweat runs freely along my spine.

Eric takes a momentary break
as my hands clench the blankets
trying to muster the strength
to continue.

He moves in behind me
and thrusts inside me
penetrating all of the pain
that has filled my head
and washing it away with his love.

Friday, November 25, 2016

Find peace, my love

There was a time
in the beginning of our relationship
when I thought it best we went our separate ways.

We talked about it over lunch
and Eric was surprised that he teared up at the thought of it.

We agreed to meet
and again, his eyes watered as emotions overcame him.

The third time we discussed it, Eric bought me a large leather journal
and we said I would fill it before we could talk again.
His eyes were filled with tears when we said goodbye
and I wrote for over two months,
never getting to the end of that book and giving in, promising never to be apart again.

Years have gone by
and this week, when Eric looks into my eyes
his fill with tears once more.

I've seen this before.
Eric does this when he is saying goodbye to someone he loves.
It catches him off guard
and he can't verbalize it
to himself
let alone, to me.

There is so much Eric isn't saying
and now he's gone
on a one man pilgrimage
searching for something
that he can't
or won't

I wait
my heart in my throat
while I silently plead with the universe
that while he's away
the answers come
so he can breathe
and find peace.

Find peace, my love.


Monday, November 21, 2016

The Collar

I cannot do this day justice.
There are not enough words in my vocabulary,
nor enough hours to take pencil to paper 
(keyboard to screen?)

Eric's birthday celebration
a leather collar
a long leather lead
"I will serve you" on the tip of my tongue

The unexpected:
pure, raw
unrestrained passion.

I thought there would be fear and resistance
He thought there would be more discipline

No disappointment on either side
but an intense sexual smoldering engulfed by moments of



I wake up
Wet in the place that you venture routinely
and you tell me "No, not yet"
so I roll over and silently tease the spot
that is missing your touch.

We've been holding off.
Building up to tomorrow,
a day we've discussed at length, planned and prepared for, dared to desire

Your birthday is the front seat
yet is taking the back
so your gift can wrap it's black leather body around the whole of my throat.
You've asked me to serve you
and I've chosen to submit;
a breathtaking opportunity for my mind to be clear and your intention secure.

My nipples harden and I roll back to you
tracing your lips with the moisture picked up on the tips of my fingers
from the secret dance on the opposite side of the bed.
You inhale and my scent fills your nostrils, a hard cock the dead give-away
that you too are filled with anticipation.

Saturday, November 19, 2016

Lovin Our Lurkers 11

Image result for love lurkers

Our Dear Lurkers,

It's been too long since I've written regularly and I wonder if you've quit checking on us, lost interest and have moved on.  Eric and I really needed this time to reconnect since he was gone for so long and we have, in ways I never thought possible.  Looking back at our first post, I recall the time I would never call him "Sir", believing an equal partnership did not provide space for submission beyond the occasional spanking. Although  I respected the servitude that others had in their relationships, I didn't see it's place in Eric51Amy49.  I was mistaken.

Monday Eric and I will celebrate his birthday.  He will put a collar around my throat for the first time and I will serve him.

Lurkers, this is a big step for us. Perhaps commenting is a big step for you.  Please do so. Encourage me to reach out and write as we go through this transition in our marriage and thank you for inspiring us to continue to grow and share over the past fourteen months.


LOVE my Lurkers!

Image result for LUV your lurkers

Sunday, November 6, 2016

When to Breathe

Just a girl
Waking under a siege of adrenaline dumps, anxiety and fear
It's 3 in the morning
What is wrong with me?

I carry on at work
Manage the finances
Care for a child
Empathy traps me in a world of pain

School keeps me busy
Writing papers, taking tests
It's close to the end
Does any of this matter to anyone but me?

like a swirling bees nest,
full of thoughts that won't settle down
I wish I could relax but I'm frantic, again

You meet me there,
blue eyes intently drilling my brain
Wooden rod in your hand,
determination on your face.

"Next time you question,"
your words are stern and true,
"Start with this. I LOVE YOU.
Now turn toward the wall."

Two strikes on the left
Four on the right
There will be marks this time
I spin and land in your arms

I'm crying
This doesn't happen. Ever.
We are out of time
You squeeze me tight enough that time disappears

The tears stop
Anxiety gone
Calm has returned
As you sketch a red heart on my ass

I apologize
for being so difficult to raise
I am grateful
for you in my life

I want to play and thrive
Drain the past and run forward with you
"Keep your eye on the prize"
The adventure between us is boundless

You are squared away
Confident and solid
I'm intrigued and in awe
Fascinated by you

Hold my hand
Share the fantasy
Experience passionately
Let me know when to breathe

Friday, October 28, 2016

Gosh darn it

I'm on crutches. 

Thank goodness nothing is broken.

Apparently I need to slow down and stay off my foot.



Saturday, October 22, 2016

"I hate to have to spank such a good girl"

It's midterms. Intense. Too much to do.  You've heard it all before. Twice a semester, the schoolwork is over-the-top but nothing else slows down. You've all been here with me before.

Saturday morning:

"Amy, you've got to stay on top of everything this weekend.  There is no time to screw around and I promised to keep you accountable so before we even start the day, you're going over my knee."

I acquiesced. Eric knew what I needed, our goal the same. Only two more semesters. He would see me through.

Spanking chair out, my belly across his strong thighs, bare ass in the air waiting for his hand, the bamboo cane and a wooden paddle.  Slap, slap, slap. Whish, Whish. Whish. Whack, whack, whack.

In front of the mirror, two bright red globes glowed as Eric rubbed soothing lotion into each cheek. Suddenly, the sweet coolness turned wicked, abandoned my skin and exploded into a burning heat that traveled deep and long lasting; capsicum.

"Are you serious?!" I whined.  "That'll sting for hours!"

"Indeed," he replied handing me a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt. "Now get to it.  I'll be back around 3."

Saturday afternoon:

"Amy Lynn!" Eric's voice boomed throughout the house.  I jumped and hit my head on the shelf of the cupboard where I was kneeling, rearranging cookie sheets, pots and pans.

Eric stood over me for about six seconds before grabbing my hair and pulling me upright.  I was bent over the kitchen counter, a thick wooden spoon was clasped in his hand. Eric went to town on my ass. Fast, hard, painful spanks plowed their way into my already sore bottom and the capsicum cream from earlier reignited, ratcheting the heat up exponentially.

Up the stairs I was pulled by the back of my arm, squealing like a stuck pig.

"What on earth has gotten into you?!" I exclaimed.  "What did I do?!"

"Damn it!" Eric sputtered, obviously flustered.  He stripped my shorts from my legs, removed my black satin thong and put me back on my hands and knees just as I'd been moments before, working to organize our cookware.

Eric pulled an enigma from under the sink and filled my bottom with cold salty liquid.

"Tell me everything you've done today, Young Lady, before you relieve yourself," his voice was stern and commanding, "and don't leave anything out."

I ran through the list as fast as I could, squeezing my cheeks together.

"Vacuumed, office for two hours, paid bills, cleaned out kitchen glass and dish cabinets, took unwanted items to Salvation Army, washed all bedding and towels, banked, washed car, ate breakfast and lunch, drafted a proposal for work, scrubbed all "toys", masturbated, waxed eye brows, manicure and pedicure, called mother, father, brother and children, watered yard, wrote a letter, applied for a grant, fed the pets, cleaned three bathrooms and the entry, and started fixing the pot and pan cupboard."

I sat on the toilet and watched my husband shake his head and sigh heavily.

"You forgot polished the furniture", he said sliding down the wall and sitting on the sparkly bathroom floor.

Eric does not just spend time with me.  He does not merely listen to my stories, hang out with or love me.  Eric also studies me.  He watches me, makes note of my patterns and pays close attention to my every move.  He does this in order to "be everything you need me to be".  He knows me, at times, better than I know myself.

"I hate to have to spank such a good girl," he said, "but the scent of lemon pledge was a dead give-away that you had an incredibly productive day doing everything except your homework."

Ah yes, Eric proves again that he knows me all too well.  Overwhelmed with long lists and too much to do, I suddenly feel the need to spring clean and tend to matters that have sat unnoticed for months on end.

"I should not have left you alone today," Eric stated apologetically as I washed my hands in the sink and joined him on the floor.  We talked about what was due and the order in which it needed to be turned in.  We chatted about the schedule for the week and lined up a plan for getting everything done. Then Eric went to the chest and pulled out Sir Strap; thick heavy merciless leather.

"HONEY!" I cried.  "I don't need that.  I just can't get started because I have writers block."

"I'm not going to let you down again," Eric answered gently tucking my hair behind my ear, kissing my face and then returning to the closet.  Back at the sink, he turned me toward the counter and told me to spread my cheeks while he lightly coated the purple butt plug in toothpaste and pressed it inside.

"Keep your eyes on the mirror," he ordered, raising the strap and coming down hard once he verified I was watching.  "Maybe if you feel and see this it will make a more lasting impression."

My back broke out in a stream of sweat, my ass on fire both inside and out.  I winced and clenched my teeth while trying not to squeeze my cheeks around the plug. Eric waited until I opened my eyes against the pain and then struck again.  We did the dance seven times before I was jumping out of my skin and circling around the room.

After catching my breath, Eric hugged me tightly and then pulled out the wooden chair at his desk, seating my blazing behind in front of the computer.

"You have one hour to write your blog friends and then it's onto your homework," he warned. "Maybe this story will get you into writing mode."

It's almost five o'clock.  I've gotten more done today than most people do in a week but none of it was on the list of "need to do this weekend".

"Please Sir, may I start my homework now?"

Monday, October 17, 2016

Shadow Lane Spanking Party

Hello Blogland!

I'm back.  It's been three weeks since Eric surprised me and returned home. Let me tell you, if I was the kiss and tell type, this post would be three weeks long and many sheets deep.  The man is home and we had a lot of lost time to make up for.

That said, it hasn't all been wine and roses.  It's crazy to me that we could both go so long missing and craving and dying to be together, and trust me, we have been together, but with all of the love and "loving" in the world, it was really awkward getting used to having him home, an old new routine, and then the panic of him leaving for work again.  We made it through, rocky and unstable as it seemed one minute and completely solid the next. Overall, it's been amazing. The trouble spots spun from the mundane and drab affects of daily life while the eternal highs were all about he and I rediscovering each other and thriving together.

It's mid-terms (can you believe it?!) so I've got no time but we have a question: Shadow Lane. Ever hear of it? Spanking parties - a huge one every Labor Day Weekend in Vegas.  We think we want to go. We fantasize about what it would be like. We wonder, have you ever been?

I often think about how you all are doing.  I want to reply to your comments but something has changed on this sight and every time I write something as a "reply" or even a new "comment", it disappears and never shows up.  I wonder if this entry will post.

Anyway, Shadow Lane, what do you know?

Can't wait to catch up on my reading! It feels like a decade since I've checked in.


Thursday, September 22, 2016

Self Discipline; Spank that Red Ass, Amy

I've been spiraling downward; too lonely, too many changes at work, too much homework, not enough sleep.

Eric said enough was enough.  He told me to get the big strap, "Sir Strap" out of the chest and place it on our dresser.  He instructed me to call him the minute I got home from work.

"Did you do as I asked, Amy?"

His voice was stern and authoritative.  There was no question, I was to comply and do so without pause.

"Yes Sir."

I can answer him with that now.

"We are going to set your mind straight, honey."

I knew what he meant.  I was in desperate need of a reset.

Eric had me strip down to nothing.  He asked me to describe my body in the mirror, explain the curves, send him a before picture of my "pristine little ass".

When he'd seen and heard enough, Eric instructed me to take Sir Strap and on his count, inflict five swats on each cheek.  We started with "one" but he couldn't hear the slap on the phone so we had to begin again.

"Harder Amy."  We both needed this to work.  "Reset your mind honey. Shut it down so you can carry on."

I whipped my own ass, to my husbands count, until he could hear me catch my breath and prance around the room.

"Do you need another round?" he asked.

I wanted to say "no" but knew I wasn't quite there.  Ten more, each cheek and I was a heck of a lot closer.

"Get in the corner, Amy."

He was so strong and firm through the phone.  I didn't hesitate.  Took my place, nipples against the wall.

"Think about what you need to do this weekend and promise me, no matter what, you will get your homework done."

I promised.

"I mean it Amy," he insisted.  "No matter what, you will get everything done."

"Yes."  I said it again.

"How red is your ass?" he asked and the tone changed to curiously playful.

I grinned.

"That's for me to know and you to miss out on," I said, mouthy and feeling much more like myself.

"It better be red," he threatened.  "My Red Ass Amy."

For a moment, there was silence and I relaxed into the wall and felt my bottom sting while my heart filled with peace and comfort in the closeness between us.

"I'm coming to see," he said and my mind didn't register, the words not making sense, not even when followed by the sound of the garage door opening.

I stood, naked and not fully understanding.

Suddenly, Eric was running up the stairs.

"I'm home honey!" he yelled and I jumped, racing down the hall and crashing into his arms with tears streaming down my face.

Five weeks early. Unexpected. Untold.

Eric said he didn't want to disappoint me in case it didn't happen.

There is no disappointment.

My husband is home.

He looks amazing.

He is, amazing.

I'm still in disbelief, but I'm breathing and smiling and happy, so happy.

And, I'll be keeping my promise because next time this girl gets behind, Eric is home to take care of business.

Sunday, September 4, 2016

Spanked with a belt for not making the bed

Two days of a three day weekend have slipped away
and I've done almost eleven hours of school work.

I know Eric is proud and doing his best to keep me motivated.

I drove in the darkness, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed.

I ran upstairs and was shocked to see, the bed was not made.  I flash backed....

Kids, work, school, volunteering, exercise; this girl always has her hands full
and things seemed extra busy for whatever reason.  I came home from a late night
meeting and Eric met me at the top of the stairs.

"The bed is unmade, young lady," he said as he followed me into our room.

There, in the middle of the mattress, was a mound of sheets and blankets all wrapped up in each other. On the floor, lay a million pillows that usually rest in a neat little line along the headboard.

I could barely remember the previous two hours, let alone what had, or rather hadn't taken place that morning.  I turned to acknowledge his observation just in time to see his hands undo his belt buckle and then pull, one loop after the other, the thick leather woven belt from his pants.

"What are you doing?!" I asked, stepping back against the door for protection.

Eric gestured toward the hope chest at the end of our bed; a place I've found myself kneeling before.

"For not making the bed?!" I exclaimed.  "Are you kidding me?!  Since when was that a punishable offense? We never talked about that. I just make the bed because I like it that way!"

Eric stood solid for a moment and then asked, "Are you done, Miss Mouthy? If so, I'd like to see your ass over the back of the bed please."

I was floored, and furious, and freaked out and ... five strokes in, feeling much more relaxed and in control.

We talked after a truly sound whipping and Eric enlightened me on a simple fact.  

"You always make the bed, honey," he explained.  "So anytime it's left a mess, I know you're overwhelmed and need a reset."

He's right.  And here I lie, in an unmade bed, typing on a blog when what I really need, is a round with his belt.

Saturday, September 3, 2016

Waiting for you

Another busy day,
followed by a long weekend packed with "I have to"
I crawl into our bed, alone
to face another night
without you
between the sheets
breathing softly
next to me
as I rest
in your arms.

You are in another time zone
and it's nearly impossible
to get a moment together.

I close my eyes.

At some point in the night
my phone plays a sweet simple tune.

Your text pierces through the darkness,
"Amy don't reply. I just wanted to say how HOT you are"

I nuzzle deeper into my pillow,
my body smiles at the thought of you
imagining yourself coming in behind me.

"Eric loves Amy"

Your second text lands like a warm blanket
gently placed overtop of my tired bones
It's wraps around my shoulders, breasts, belly and bottom
My feet stay free
too hot to be covered

"I can't wait to see..." (this text is too graphic to share)

You have set the fantasy in motion
erased the lists of "to do" in my head
and released my mind
from all thoughts other than those
of you and me
in the world we have created for ourselves
as lovers
as a couple
as husband and wife.
I drift off and dream of you coming home
for good
for a lifetime of erotic exotic adventure.

I miss the last text,
your first three having tucked me in
and sent me off to a safe and comfortable place
of love and security.

I wake to begin another busy day without you
but your words glow on the screen,

"I love you"

and I know I can get through one more day,
take one more step
wait one more moment
because you are out there
working your way
home to me.

The simplest gesture,
as tiny as a text brightening our room
in the middle of the night
brings peace to my heart
while I wait for you.

Monday, August 29, 2016


Our birth, the moment we enter this world, is the time we step on a path that is unique to us.

We are not alone.

At the very least, our mother is there, but she is on a path next to ours. It is one that is unique to her.

Imagine, every single person on earth, standing at a particular point in time, on their path. It is one that stretches behind them and in front of them, the very beginning of life to the very end.

Paths cross, but they are never one in the same.  Each individual is alone on a path. Alone but not necessarily lonely.

My children were born and for years, our paths rode side-by-side. As they grew older, their paths led them away from me, then back and then away again. Time gave them the space and confidence to push forward as they matured, while time dictated my need to be near and then far.

Eric and I have been so close, that our paths bump and collide with each other.  We have also been far enough apart that neither path is aware of the other. It is the choices we make that are the ones that bring our paths in and out of view of each other. Sometimes, those choices are made for us.

There are moments on my path where I am overwhelmed with sadness or even anxiety at the idea of being away from my children or Eric.  It is too much to feel how truly lonely my life is without them. Yet, even when we are together, my path is one that is unique to me. They are alone on their paths and I am alone on mine.

Lately, I've been doing my best to enjoy the path of my life by picturing the people I love as vista points along the road I have set to go down.  There is solace in the idea that while we are apart, they continue down their paths as if on a fabulous adventure that we can share when we happen to meet up again.

I look ahead for that next vista point, while learning to savor the scents and sounds of the place on the path where I am right now.

It's 1 o'clock in the morning and I'm awake, in our bed, wondering what this path has in store for me.


Wednesday, August 24, 2016

House maid gets spanked multiple times

“What are you doing?” Eric asked, his voice crackling through the hollowed echo of a hands-free microphone.

“Just driving home from class,” Amy said drearily. Summer had slipped away and school was back in session.

Thursday night had finally come to an end and she was wiped out.  Work, school, the house… she was on her own as he was gone for months at a time; struggling to pave the way for a better life.  He would be back but not anytime soon and they both longed desperately to be in each other’s arms; to melt away the exhaustion of doing too much, the stress of being alone, the pain of being apart.

“Are you still keeping up with everything?” he inquired.  “Work, school, house… you got it all under control?”

She bit her lip and tried to avoid the question.  He certainly had enough on his plate and didn’t need to know she was slowly but surely losing all sense of balance. 

“Amy Lynn?” he asked, breaking her train of thought. “Are you there?”

“Oh. Yes!” she remarked. “It’s all good.  I got this.  You know I do.  Everything is ship shape.”

The lights on the freeway blurred and the rhythm under the tires, riding low on cracked pavement, rocked her in the driver’s seat.  The nightly 45 minute drive was mundane and routine after two years of classes. Frequently she’d be pulling into her garage not remembering anything between the freeway and the exit, not to mention the winding side streets to their home. 

Eyes half open, brain half functioning, Amy finally turned down their block and pulled up to the house.  Suddenly, her foot hit the brake and she lurched forward, two lights shining on his car in the driveway.  Eric was back.

The surge of butterflies flapping excitedly in her stomach catapulted her from the car and she raced toward the door, flung it open and ran into the house. 

“You’re here!!!!” she yelled, spying his silhouette in the partially lit kitchen.  Eric stood tall and handsome, bright blue eyes, smile glowing and strong arms reaching out to her.  She leaped into his grasp, wrapped her legs around his middle, arms around his neck and lips all over his mouth, his cheeks, his face. Grinning, he stepped back against the center island and allowed her to embrace his entire being with every ounce of strength she could muster.  It had been way too long.  They held on, breathing in each other’s scent, tasting of each other's tongue, and touching all over each other's body.

“I thought I’d surprise you,” Eric said between kisses.  “I didn’t even wait for my suitcase to come off the ramp.  I just jumped in the car and drove until I got here.  I couldn’t wait to be home.”

Happiness flowed over Amy – his voice filling her ears, his hands feeling her body and her eyes slowing scanning his face, his lips, his shoulders, the counter, the floor, the room and then, in horror, the dishes piled high in the sink, her laundry all over the couch in the living room and the stack of school books dripping down the stairs. Her mind raced.  Her body tensed.  Slowly, she released her grip around his middle and put her feet back on the floor.  The change in her physical aura, her passion, her focus, was clear.

Eric stopped, gently grasping her face in his hands and asked, “Are you not happy to see me?”

Amy swallowed and her lower lip began to quiver as her eyes weld up with tears.  “I didn’t clean the house,” she spat out.  “I told you I have everything under control but I'm an M-E-S-S when you're away.  I think I lied to you… by accident for real!”

Eric's face relaxed and he couldn’t help but laugh at the childlike reaction to her epiphany.

“Well, young lady,” he stated as matter-of-fact as he could, “that you did and we will address this tomorrow,” he added, turning her toward the door and swatting her behind in a playful warning.  “But for now, I just want to hold you all night.”

They climbed the stairs and after tossing a hundred pillows off the bed, crawled between the sheets and made love until they couldn't stay awake a moment longer.

Morning came, pasty and white, like a dream weaving in and out of her mind.  Had Eric really come back?  Was he really there?  Amy's foot moved across the sheets in search of his warmth but found nothing but a wad of comforter, a couple of pillows, and an old sock.  It had seemed so real.  She rolled to her side and blinked away hours of sleep.  She squinted toward a clock that read 1:22 pm.

“Good morning, Sweet Pea,” his sexy voice rang from the doorway.  “Or should I say, good afternoon?”

There he was; bright and tanned, smiling and happy- that amazing man who kept her glowing and alive with his playful creativity and supportive attitude.  Nobody had ever loved her for who she was the way he did. Relief and excitement rang over her and she held out her hands, beckoning him back to bed.

“No way, Amy Lynn,” his tone stern and solid.  “Apparently, we have an issue to discuss from last night. Do you recall?”

Her face went scarlet and the heat of the moment swept over her body.  She gulped past her nerves and sat up, quickly concocting a list of excuses for the “little white lie” and state of disarray in the house.

“I promised to keep you on track,” Eric said, voice strong and unwavering.  “We agreed that I would keep you accountable and this house was part of that commitment. I've let you down by being away but now I'm home and we are gong to take care of business beginning now.” 

Again, her face deepened with a red flush as he scolded and chastised her.  Her heart began to race and her palms began to sweat as the moisture between her legs slowly started to build.  He epitomized safety and that security that only comes with a partner completely trusted and caring.  Her vulnerability rose as her breathing became shallow.

“Am I in trouble?” she asked, small girl voice and a modest pout crossing her pale pink lips.

“Oh yes,” came the quick reply.  “So, this is how it’s going to go.  YOU are going to get your sleepy self out of bed and put this on.” 

With that, he laid at her feet a French Maid outfit, complete with black mini skirt, white apron, collared shirt and feather duster. 

“You’ll then go from room to room and clean as quickly and completely as you possibly can; while I time your progress.  Once I assess and approve the job, you will receive a spanking equal to the number of minutes you took to clean the room- with an implement of your choosing from that room.  Then, we’ll move onto the next, and the next, until the entire house is clean.” 

He paused to give her a moment to let the game sink in. 

“Wear the outfit, every room. Clean, every room. Spanking, every room. How many rooms are in this house?” she wondered, suddenly unable to remember what her own home looked like.

“Well?” he demanded, that adorable evil glint in his eye. 

Unable to find her voice, she merely nodded and reached for the clothes.  Skipping past him, she stepped back to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, when the sharp smack of his palm across her bottom filled the room.

“No time for kisses, Sweetie,” he teased.  “The clock starts now.”

Seven minutes later, his naughty girl emerged from the bathroom dressed for day.  Her toe nails were painted red and peeked out from bare feet. Long muscular legs, silky smooth and lightly tanned stretched out beneath the frilly black skirt; white apron pressed flat and tied in a bow around her waist.  The collared shirt, also perfectly pressed, revealed a sprinkling of freckles between her breasts and she held the purple feather duster in her right hand.

“There aren’t any panties,” she said, noticing he had moved from the doorway to the black spanking chair they had in front of the bedroom window.

“I’m aware of that,” he said, still not breaking character with an all-business aura about him.  “It took you seven minutes to get dressed,” he stated, tapping his lap and motioning for her to move closer.  “We can use that number to discuss your lying to me about everything being ship shape last night.”

A wave of anticipation, fear and excitement rolled from the tips of her toes all the way to the top of her head.  She flushed.  She wavered.  She stalled.  Their eyes locked and the air in the room dared not move.  A tiny bead of sweat formed on her neck and rolled down her spine as she found herself kneeling before him, head down, eyes pleading upward, apologetic and full of remorse. 

“I’m sorry I lied,” she whispered and he swept her up, across his knee, hand on the small of her back as he slowly raised the skirt above her cheeks.

“Count,” he commanded, and the first slap came down swift and hard across her left side.

“One!” she squealed, shocked at the force he displayed as her body fell forward and her hands landed in front, catching the floor.

“Two, three, four….seven”

She was suddenly turned back on her knees, his hand grasping her hair, pulling her face to his,lips pressed on lips, mouths dancing, breathing enhanced and his searing hand print lying red across her cheeks. 

She reached for an embrace but he pushed her back and grinning, waved a scolding finger at her face. 

“You’ve got a house to clean,” he warned, pulling her away from him and pointing her in the direction of the kitchen.  “The clock starts now.”

The sink was atrocious and she truly wondered if there was a clean dish anywhere in the place.  Plates clattered, glasses clinked, water sprayed and soap lathered.  He stood by, watching her scramble, enjoying her features; the blue of her eyes, the blonde streaks in her hair, the pink hue in her face.  He grabbed a can of Lemon Pledge and went to work on the table, chairs and bar stools.  She wiped down the counters, dumped the trash and swept the floor.  One quick swipe down the refrigerator door and she turned with a flourish announcing its completeness.

“Twelve minutes.  Choose your weapon.” He couldn’t help but grin when he said it. 

She swallowed and biting her lower lip, revealed a flat wooden cheese board that rested comfortably next to the refrigerator.  He motioned for her to come around the center island and taking the handle, bent her over a bar stool, again raising her skirt and exposing two white cheeks.  One swat to the left side and a red outline formed.

“It doesn’t look like you’ve cleaned this kitchen in a week,” he said landing another smack in exactly the same spot.  “Afraid you’re going to feel this one for awhile.”  He paused for nothing, rained all twelve on her left side and perfected a quick flick of the wrist that sent stinging chills of heat throughout her body.  He could feel the sweat beading up on her back again and the intense reaction caused his pants to bulge.  Placing the paddle on the counter, he undid his zipper, and grabbing her hips, centered them before him.  Then he pressed a cool hand onto her burning flesh and pushed his burning cock into her melting juices.  Deep, straight and long; Eric sent shivers down her spine and causing her to cry out in intense pleasure.  Three deep thrusts and he pulled back, helping her to an upright position.

“The clock starts now,” he said, nodding toward the living room.

Dazed and reeling, Amy stumbled into the room and stood for a moment, getting her bearings and clutching the couch for support.  Finally, it registered.  Laundry, everywhere.  She raced to the garage and grabbed a handful of hangers.  Back in the living room; folding, hanging, matching socks.  Every time she bent down to grab another article of clothing, he caught a glimpse… a curve, a color, a patch.  He pulsed and throbbed, ached to have her, entirely, crazy with excitement over the curly brown tuft that had manifested while he was away.  The build-up became unbearable enough that he slipped into the bathroom and cleaned everything to quiet his body and focus his mind.  When he returned to the living room, she had just stuck the last pair of socks in the basket was hurriedly vacuuming neat straight lines across the carpet.

“Nine minutes,” he said, holding out his hand.  She scanned the room.  A CD case, a small book, a perch from the bird cage.  Inhaling deeply, she walked to the stack of hanging clothes and pulled a pink plastic hanger from one of the shirts.  Handing him the implement, she placed herself over the back of the couch and raised her skirt, secretly praying he would grant some relief to her left side and focus on the right for a change.

“Good girl,” Eric stated, sending an unbelievably sharp sting across her entire buttocks.

“Ouch,” Amy yelped and stood, grasping her scalding cheeks. Suddenly, there were both laughing at the broken hanger dangling in his grasp.

“Should have gone for the CD case,” he commented, pushing her back over the couch and carrying out the remaining eight with his hand in quick succession.

Again, hair entangled in his fingers, Eric pulled Amy from the couch, past the vacuum and down on the carpet.  Her heart was racing, breath labored as he wedged himself between her legs, towering over her body.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he growled and grabbing at her shirt, ripped it open, popping one button after the other and revealing her heaving breasts.  His mouth on her nipple, sucking hard and deep, his hips grinding into her pelvis, they moved in unison and allowed the passion between them to rise.

“I want you so badly,” Amy said grabbing his hair and pulling him towards her face.  “Please. Please.  I want you now.”

Their eyes and their breath met and mingled in the space between their faces.

“One more room, darling,” Eric stated, pulling her to her feet and planting a wonderfully slow and solid kiss on her mouth.  “I’ll put the vacuum and the clothes away.  You hit the bedroom. The clock starts now.”   

Ass on fire, butter between her legs, heart pounding… she found herself racing to the bedroom.  Books in the backpack, clothes in the hamper, bed made – he was not satisfied.  Vacuumed, counters wiped down in the bathroom, make-up put away – still just shook his head.  Windows cleaned, dresser straightened – another “no”.  She stood at a loss.  Everything was put away.  Everything was done. 

“Seriously, did you forget something?” Eric asked, winking with a devilish sparkle in his eye.

“No,” Amy cried.  “I did everything.  I made the bed.  I vacuumed.  I cleaned the windows and I put everything away.  I even…” suddenly a huge grin crossed her face and she ran downstairs where she had left the feather duster on the kitchen table.  She burst into the room and flitted from vanity to dresser. 

“And I dusted!!” she exclaimed.

Eric shook his head, grinned from ear to ear and said, “What the heck did you do to your shirt?”

Amy turned to the mirror and saw the fancy collared shirt that had been so perfectly pressed, hanging button-less, her breasts only partially hidden by the floppy material and her belly ring shining just above her waistline. 

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this,” Eric said, gently walking her to the bed and pulling two soft pink satin ribbons from his pocket.  Carefully, he placed her on her knees facing away from him, removed the tattered shirt and tied her wrists to the headboard.  Tucking a number of white fluffy pillows under her torso, he untied the white apron and released the black mini skirt from her hips.  A battle field of welts and redness streaked across her cheeks and he gently outlined each mark with his fingers while kissing her hips and back.  Taking a moment to check the ties on her wrists, he kissed her lips while removing his clothes.  Gathering his favorite strap from the closet, he also retrieved the pink rabbit and a bottle of baby oil.  The radio played softly in the background and Eric first massaged her behind with the baby oil, comforting on her wounds from earlier discipline.

'You are getting 15 swats," Eric announced, the strap high overhead and sticking slightly in the oil before pulling away and crashing down for the next strike.

Amy cried out, the pain and passion mingling in intensity, until Eric put down the weapon and inserted the vibrating toy.  Massaging her clit with his fingers, he waited until she started to moan and then, releasing one of her hands, allowed her to hold the toy while he used both hands to spread her cheeks wide and place his tip, bareback, inch by inch deeper inside her.

“You were a very bad girl, not keeping up with your housework and then lying to me about it,” Eric scolded, pressing further into her hips and gliding back and forth as her body released to him. “I don’t ever want you to lie to me again,” he growled, pulling the back of her hair right at the base of her neck and increasing his speed as he rode deeper and faster within her.

“I’m so sorry,” Amy panted.  “I’m… I’m… I’m going to cum!”

“Not yet,” he commanded.  “Not until I say you can.”

Eric slapped her left side one quick time and pressed faster and harder, harder and faster, until her whole body began to shake and a loud carnal yell began to form in her throat.

“NOW!” he yelled.

Amy released until Eric pulsed and pumped every bit of cum, time, frustration and desire they had been holding onto for each other from his body into hers. Exhausted and content, they let the world revolve without them without a care. Nothing mattered beyond that moment.

*Yes, too good to be true. I do start classes again tomorrow and would LOVE for this to be a reality but it's just a fantasy. October 27. Still waiting.


Tuesday, August 23, 2016

Non-stop to tears

The day was so busy, Eric barely crossed my mind.

Only once, when I thought, "I've got this. No problem."

It was like he never existed.

I dealt with everything and everyone we ever encounter together, on my own.

I came home to rushed dinner, chores, work duties lasting into the wee hours.

Neither of us reached out.

Both slammed.


I went to bed exhausted but fine... woke up sobbing in the middle of the night.

I do not enjoy this life without him.


Sunday, August 21, 2016

A hired hand - anyone been down that road?

Hermione was talking about DD relationships during her Spanko brunch. Eric and I had played around with the idea of it but have found our spanking relationship has blossomed into a variety of different types of play/discipline/reset while keeping our 51%/49% intact.

I absolutely value the fact that my husband is open to me doing anything and everything I'd like to do, as long as I am safe and smart about it. What he cannot stand, is when I find myself down a path of doing what everyone else wants me to do. This is especially true when I've got my own ideas as to what would be best for me but put them on hold to take care of the rest of the world.

Classes start again this week. My house is a downright mess. I've been driving upwards of 400 to 600 miles every weekend and I am dead dog tired a lot. Eric is gone and that's hard on both of us. I promised myself, thus promising him, that I would spend some time at home the next few weekends so I would not pile on, crash and burn, overload and tank myself before the semester even started.

Friday, the plan was to leave work at noon and spend one night away, return by 5 p.m. on Saturday and get ready for the week on Sunday.

"You are a very bad girl, Amy," was the stern response on the phone when I spelled out how the weekend had actually gone.

Trust me, when we are apart and I hear that tone on the phone, it is music to my ears. Eric's statement is usually followed by 30 to 60 minutes of a verbal scenario starting with my arm being guided upstairs, clothes unzipped and thrown to the side, me over his knee,  implements out, bottom spanked, nose to the corner; all of this followed by a plethora of delicious sexual acts. Ah.... I digress.

The fact is, I left late Friday, spent one night and left late again Saturday, arriving just in time to hit the nail salon where I ran into an old friend, went to her house for dinner, started a Netflix series that turned out to be scary as hell (and I don't do scary), watched the entire thing (8 episodes) and then was too frightened to go home at 3:30 a.m. so stayed all night, woke up at 8 when called into work, overtired and cranky left the office three hours later so stopped for a doughnut and got a massage on the way home where I now sit in the late afternoon, blogging rather than handling a single thing on my list. Come on ladies, we've all been there.

The lecture began. It was a lovely array of reminders, scolds, threats, and promises. I found myself excited and wet. Then, the unthinkable.

"You know what, Amy Lynn, I don't think this can wait until I get back at the end of October. It might be time to find a hired hand to get you straightened out."

I laughed.

He wasn't laughing.

I guffawed.

He didn't do that either.

Following this blog, I will get my act together and the next three weeks will be mapped out, laundry in motion, dishes done and groceries put away. There is no chance, if I have anything to do with it, that I am risking our next phone call being anything like the last one.  I don't know how serious he was, but not something I feel like risking. I did promise to ask if any of you have ever had or been a hired hand. Consider this "the ask".

Eric and I talk about going to the Citadel or some place where someone else would spank me in front of him at his direction but when he's not even in the country?! Wouldn't that be like being sent to the principal's office to be paddled forty years ago?

Eric! Corporal punishment was outlawed way back then!!!



Eric has been talking to me about the thoughts and feelings he has nestled deep within his heart.

That is the positive side of being forced to be apart; connections must be made in other ways.

I no longer fear where he stands when it comes to me. Perhaps that was all made up in my head.

I want to go camping to all of the places he loved as a child and have him tell me his favorite stories.

Then I want to create some stories of our own.

I want to travel to all of his favorite destinations and have him show me the world according to Eric.

Then I want to create the world according to us.

I want to finish what we've started here and begin again, away from it all, on a beach with an unlimited quantity of possibilities rolled out in front of us.

We both wanted to go cherry picking this spring but time got away from us.

When Eric gets home, I think we need to cherry pick our future,

so we know where we are going,

and can take the steps,

to get there.

Then I want to thrive, together, on a path that is uniquely our own.

Those of you who have already gotten there, make today magical.

Thursday, August 11, 2016

Waiting for the paper

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.


Wednesday, August 10, 2016

Worst Cook Ever - can ya help a girl out?

I admit it, I've never been much of a cook.

I find it boring.

It does nothing for me.

Eric, on the other hand, is a master chef.

He can work wonders in the kitchen or on the bbq.

Most nights, when we eat at home, he does the cooking while I
hang out on the counter top chatting, flirting and toying with him.

The kitchen is a great place for foreplay - not to mention all of the wonderful
spanking tools that are readily on hand.

Anyway, it's not fair that Eric has to do all of the cooking so I decided as one of
my things to do while he's gone, I would learn to make some things to help out
when he returns.

Tonight I chose Chicken Ravioli with a red sauce.  All I had to do
was boil water, put the pasta in for seven minutes, strain, cover with sauce and eat.

Eric called while I was cooking.  We talked for twenty minutes. I thought nothing of the
pasta and when I looked in the pot, most of the ravioli had split open and the stuffing
was floating on top.

No biggie.  I strained it and continued talking.

Another twenty minutes (a heavenly conversation, I might add) and the ravioli had gone cold.
I dumped the  pieces that managed to stay together on a plate, threw some pasta
sauce from a jar over top and microwaved it for 2.5 minutes.

Eric and I continued to talk for ten minutes after that so I zapped my dinner 45 additional seconds before sitting down to eat.

Chewy, like leather, on the outside and mushy and gross on the inside.  Sigh.  I ate it anyway.  Yuck.

Ladies, I have read your blogs and know you are far more talented than I.  Do any of you have
some REALLY REALLY easy to make recipes that I could surprise Eric with... without killing either of us?  Send me your favorite; simple healthy best.  PLEASE. :)


Monday, August 8, 2016

44 Questions - you've seen it many places

44 questions

1. Do you like blue cheese?
Not on a salad but love it on a burger.

2. Have you ever smoked?
Bad girl, Amy - a pack of menthol cigarettes when I was in high school.

3. Do you own a gun? 
No way... Eric has a smoking gun between his legs. Whoah! Sailor mouth.

4. What is your favorite ice cream flavor? 
Frozen yogurt vanilla with fruit and gummy candy.

5. Do you get nervous before Doctor visits?
Only when the word "cancer" is in play.

6. What do you think of hot dogs?
Better with a bun, maybe some chili, a dab of mustard.

7. Favorite Movies?
9.5 Weeks - got me on a path I enjoy exploring

8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning?
Semen (sorry, missing my husband). Water with lemon.

9. Do you do push ups?
Push up bras.

10. What’s your favorite piece of jewelry?
My new bracelet. 

11. Favorite hobby? 
Blogging and fantasizing about new things to try with Eric.

12. Do you have A.D.D.?
No but I do hate to sit still.

13. What’s the one thing you dislike about yourself?

14. What is your middle name?

15. Name three thoughts at this moment.. 
I need a spanking. I miss Eric.  There is a brand new unopened bondage rope in my closet.

16. Name 3 drinks you regularly drink?
Water, green juice, beet juice.

17. Current worry? 
I'm going to let Eric down.

18. Current annoyance right now? 
Eric is far away.

19. Favorite place to be? 
Eric's arms.

20. How do you ring in the new year?
Goals and a plan to stick to.

21. Where would you like to go?

22. Name three people who will complete this?
Me and hopefully Abby and Willie

23. Do you own slippers? 
Not a one. Don't like shoes, sure as hell don't like slippers.

24. What color shirt are you wearing right now?
White soft cotton undershirt. Yes, it's his.

25. Do you like sleeping on satin sheets?
Never tried it.

26. Can you whistle?

27. What are your favorite color?
Black and pink

28. Would you be a pirate?
In a heartbeat! I love dressing up and playing... I wonder if Eric would make me 
walk the plank.

29. What songs do you sing in the shower?
Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran

30. Favorite girls name?
Evelyn or Madison

31. Favorite boys name?
Eric or Mitchell

32. What’s in your pocket right now?
$12 in cash

33. Last thing that made you laugh? 
A Dallas Cowboy joke I sent to Misty.

34. Best toy as a child?
Bongo Board

35. Worst injury you ever had? 
Broken Heart

36. Where would you love to live?
That'd be Eric and me at the BEACH

37. How many TV’s do you have?
Two. How many TV's do you watch? None.

38. Who is your loudest friend?
The one being spanked.

39. How many dogs do you have?
What up dawg? None.

40. Does someone trust you?
I have no doubt, my children and Eric do.

41. What book are you reading at the moment? 
Sears toy catalog

42. What’s your favorite candy? 
Almond joy and jelly beans

43. What’s your favorite sports team?
Bears. That's a team, right?

44. Favorite month?
At the moment, really liking October. Favorite day, October 27th.

The Magic of Cock Talk

I came tonight.

On a towel, in the closet, using an arsenal of battery operated toys to get me over the edge.

There have been four failed attempts prior to this evening.

"Honey," Eric said from halfway around the world, "I know it's a mental block but I need you to be able to relax while I'm gone.  Keep trying Sweetheart."

I did.  I tried at the beach.  I tried at home.  I tried and I tried but it just wouldn't happen.

Today, I received a text that said...

"I miss u. B ready at 4 o'clock for Cock Talk with yours truly."

Eric is very open about anything and everything sexual.  It took me a long time to be able to tell him what was in my head but he never made me feel uneasy or like it was weird what I did or didn't know, etc. We keep saying we should have a call-in show called "Cock Talk" where people can ask those burning questions and get the real scoop. At 4pm, I got a phone visit from Mr. Cock himself.

"Amy," oh the sound of that voice I love, "I want you to put a plug in and get out all of your toys."

I did.

"Amy," he had on that authoritative, you-will-follow-my-directions tone that makes me melt, "lie on the towel and ...."

I won't bore you with the details but suffice it to say, I am a screamer and Eric had no problem hearing me regardless of the miles between us.  He didn't let me stop there but pushed until I came again and again.

We had to hang up before I was ready to stand.  I just lay there, drenched in sweat, smelling like sex with a clit that was vibrating quite nicely on it's own.

The mental block has been broken but the emotional roller coaster is still in full swing. This girl sure could use a spanking. :( I'm being taught patience. I get it. There is just so much we both want and are willing to do... it's very hard to wait, but no doubt, worthwhile.


Sunday, August 7, 2016

One week down

"I miss touching you," Eric said,
ending our six minute phone conversation yesterday.
My love has been duck, duck, GO!

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I play with my bracelet at the table, memories filling my brain.

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The computer glows in front of me.

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My paper is left unwritten.

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All I want, is to be in his arms.
Long slow days until October 27th;
it's like watching pumpkins grow.

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"AMY LYNN!" I can hear him now.
"Young lady, you better get that homework done
or my hand is going to kiss your ass."

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I love his kisses.

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