Saturday, April 30, 2016

The spanking closet has replaced the spanking chair

"Get home NOW Amy."

It was the middle of the afternoon and we were both at work.

I texted back.


His reply was quick.

"Don't get mouthy with me, young lady. You have 15 minutes to get your ass in the closet."

My drive is slightly longer than his.

I beat him home.


Admittedly, I was flying.

I ran in the house, up the stairs and to the closet in our bedroom. There were two Velcro cuffs hanging from the top shelf, the implement chest was unlocked and on the floor was Sir Strap, the blind wand and the small folded leather strap. Eric was halfway up the stairs before I could register what any of it meant.

"Why are you dressed?" he snarled, grabbing me by the arm and leading me over to the left cuff.

Eric strapped my wrist tightly to the metal shelving and then hoisted the right side into place as well. My face buried itself in the row of shirt sleeves hanging before me and I felt the light tap tapping of Sir Strap on the back pocket of my jeans.

"This is the second time in a week I've had to leave work to come home and take care of you," Eric stated and the strap landed harshly across both cheeks.

Deja vu.  He was right. It had only been two days since our game of charades.

"Is this going to be a problem anymore?" he asked, the strap swinging hard, first against the right cheek and then against the left.

"No." I answered, smelling the scent of a fresh dryer sheet while my ass began to tingle.

"No what?" came the question along with four sharp stingers in a row.

I sucked in a big breath of air and exhaled in quick shallow puffs as though I was in labor.

"No it will not," I replied and the strap reigned down again, four in a row, quicker and harder than the time before.

Arms held tightly overhead, I could not cover my aching bottom or relieve the outbreak of sweat along my back with a short break from the discipline.  My feet danced their own private jig, stopping only when the strap hit the floor in front of me and Eric reached for my jeans, undoing the zipper and uncovering red blazing cheeks.  He picked up the blind wand and pulling my hair, gave me a quick peek before planting a swift welt across my left thigh.

"Try again," he stated and the blind wand struck each thigh three times and my bottom a few more.

"Okay, Okay!" I danced and jumped and squirmed and yelped.

Eric threw down the blind wand and picked up the thin strap with the handle.

"One more time," he said forcing my legs apart slightly.  "Is this going to be a problem anymore?"

Before I could even answer, Eric slapped that little folded strap of leather hard across the back of my left thigh over and over and over again.

"No!" I yelled, wiggling and moving as much as I could, bound against the closet walls.

"No Sir!!" I yelled louder as Eric continued to land smack after smack on that one tender spot.

As soon as I said it, Eric undid the Velcro on each cuff and after throwing a towel on the floor, ordered me to lie down and pleasure myself with a high speed hummingbird toy that he'd tucked behind a rack of shoes. It wasn't long before he was towering above me, cock and a handful of lotion in motion over my eager body.

"You are beautiful," Eric said, smiling down at me. "This is like watching a real porn star!"

I started to come and Eric let loose, blasting my belly and breasts with hot sticky juices.

At the sink, rinsing off before running back to work, Eric commented on my left thigh.

"You're already bruised, honey," he said endearingly and looking for some sort of clue as to my reaction to the whole situation. "I've never seen you take so much. We definitely went further than ever before on this one. I'm really sorry but that's going to be there for awhile."

"I know," I said, lost in how his concern showed through the bright blue sparkle of his eyes.  "And I needed it." (The spanking, not the purple mark. We were both surprised how quick it appeared.)

Dressed again, out the door and on the road, I felt the bruise he spoke of but honestly, the clear mind and contentment made it all worthwhile.

Just another step toward the Citadel. We'll get there someday.

Saturday, April 23, 2016

Closet Whipped and Spanked on St. Andrew's Cross of Charades

Alone in our room, I wait, this single moment in time engulfing the quiet stillness when I finally stop running, stop moving.

The front door opens and shuts quickly, breaking the silence like an unexpected shattering of glass. This is not unexpected but even so, the sound pulses through the air and causes my heart to race.

Eric's footsteps on Mexican tile mimic tiny glass shards falling to the ground and the quickness of his pace announce that there is no hesitation in his purpose. He enters our room and finds me, seated on a bench, fully dressed in jeans and a long blue flowing shirt.  We freeze and stare, into each others eyes like two cats preparing to brawl. We are desperate to release the stress of changing careers and undo the struggles of things gone wrong.

Beside me there are two implements. Sir Strap, the largest and most intense leather item we own, is the closest to my thigh. It was purchased at a time when I was routinely putting words in Eric's mouth, leading us down a path of confusion and misunderstandings. He had only used it twice before the habit was corrected.

This time was different in mood and in purpose. This time I needed a strong bite to reset my mind and push me forward another week and Eric, infused with too many demands and no time to sift through and manage them effectively, needed it just as badly as I.

Eric grabbed the handle and nodded toward the closet.  Hands outstretched and fingers laced through the metal shelving between hangers and material, I closed my eyes and tried to relax.

"You know I do this because I love you," he said and the leather flew through the air and crossed both of my cheeks in a long even swat.

The crack of the whip echoed in our tiny chamber and the space instantly warmed. My bottom tingled under the protection of thick denim and I smiled knowing Eric would be able to put real power into his swing without truly hurting me.

The next strike aimed more for the right side of my butt and the tip of such a long sheet of leather wrapped around and clawed at the skin on my hip.  Like the end of a towel snapped in a gym locker room, it bounced back and even the jeans did not stop the sting.

"Oh that felt so good," the words were spoken but I really don't know if they were mine or his. We were in sync, the intensity of each strike clearing my mind and releasing his tension.

Soundly whipped; the sixth and seventh strikes were enough to have me leave my post and dance around, catch my breath and set the nerve endings throughout my body on fire.

"You need more, don't you?" This time it was Eric speaking for sure and though he posed it as a question, it was more a statement of fact.

Back to the shelf, fingers holding on tight, Eric let three consecutive swats reign hard upon my seat. The wrap around bit fiercely and I knew there would be a long lasting mark.

We exited the closet and Eric ordered me to undress, with one more small leather strap remaining on the bench.  I removed my jeans and thong, facing him and wondering with such a harsh warm-up if the little auburn piece would even make a dent or if instead, it would land on my flesh like a mosquito in summer; unseen and felt by no one.

"All of it," he commanded and I scrambled to get my top off, sensing his impatience with me for not completely following the initial request.

Over to the corner, Eric took each of my wrists and placed them high on the wall.  My nipples rested against the cold plaster and a chill ran down my spine, contradicting the heat that was still radiating off my bottom.  Using his foot, Eric tapped at my ankles until my legs were spread wide apart and I stood in our game of Charades as though I were strapped to St. Andrew's Cross.

Eric's body was so close to mine, I felt as though we were one. His hand kept me still with sturdy fingers tangled in my hair and his mouth breathed heavy words into my ear; bringing all of my senses to life as I drank in the image he portrayed.

"This is it, Amy. This is you, on St. Andrew's Cross at the Citadel in San Francisco.  You can't move, your hands and ankles tied down and you know you need this, know you want it and know I'm the right guy to give it to you."

I realized at some point Eric had picked up the implement and as he continued to whisper into the nape of neck, he released my hair and lightly ran the leather up and down my back, butt and thighs alerting all of the cells in my body to wake up and pay attention.

"The crowd is gathering to see the beautiful girl tied to the cross," he crooned seductively, "and they all want to know what he's going to do to her."

My nipples hardened and licked at the wall in anticipation as sweat built along my back and I grew wet below the small patch of hair casting a shadow upon my clit.

"You've been a very bad girl, Amy" he announces to the invisible on-lookers and the strap goes from stroking to tapping against my cheek.

This small bit of leather, the width of a dress belt doubled up by a fold in the middle, struck my back and thighs igniting a passion between my lover, my mind and the wall.

"You need to be disciplined, Sweetheart," he says and the strap crashes down hard, ten times in number, a thousand times in sensation while Eric continues to stand with me for my entire stay on the cross.

When he finishes, Eric leads me over to our bed and I am bent over wondering if there is more spanking to come.  He has switched gears and instead of punishing me, gently kisses each of the angry red rows of welts and the deep purple patch from the whipping.  Eric draws a pretty little heart on my right battered globe and then using both hands, he spreads my cheeks and his tongue dances around and dips into my b-hole, the nerves of pleasure setting off fireworks while the heat of the spanking cools down.

A phone rings and we ignore the distraction, letting it go to voicemail. Then a second phone rings and another one buzzes; playtime has abruptly been brought to an end.

I dress as Eric runs out the door, a jaw full of mouthwash and a body primed and ready to take on the world.

I am ready too.


Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Eric's responses to Terpsichore's Place Meme, Brought to us by PK at New Beginnings!

PK saw this over at Terpsichore's place. Eric decided to play too! Here are his answers:

1. How would you feel if you were outed among your social circle?

If something like that came out it wouldn't be a big deal.

2. If you had to choose one spanking and could repeat it, which one would it be?

I love all the spankings. I love the little riding crop that started on Amy's ass and moved across her front. I love the belt. All of the above. Check D, all of the above.

3. Name two of your most favorite items (vanilla and something to do with TTWD)?

Vanilla: Tomato soup bowls - a Christmas present for Amy. I have really good memories about sharing lunch over soup one day.

TTWD: My black belt. I tied Amy's hands with it the first time she gave me a blow job.

4.  Book or E-reader? 


5. How do you prefer being spanked?

I don't!  Spanking Amy is my job.

6.What can you see out of your window?

A parking lot where Amy threw my keys out the window. Bad girl, Amy! I still need to spank you for that one.

7. What's the most expensive thing you've bought in the last month?

Nothing but I'm inspired. Think I'll get a shopping cart at the bondage store. Watch out Amy. I've got some surprises for you.

Terpsichore's Place Meme, Thanks to New Beginnings

PK saw this over at Terpsichore's place.
I'll play along.  Why not? You can do it too!

1. How would you feel if you were outed among your social circle? 

Now is not the time but there will come a day when I will proudly be more forthcoming about my relationship with Eric. We are both in jobs that require a vanilla appearance but we do have a playful, almost exhibitionist side to us.  Our network of friends will be quite surprised once we both retire and can be more authentic.

2. If you had to choose one spanking and could repeat it, which one would it be? 

Until recently, I had no idea how seductive it would be to have Eric use his belt on my bottom as a punishment and then move to my back; turning it into a very sensual act.  I went from being taught a lesson to having every sexual nerve in my body turn on. That I'd do again and again and again...

3. Name two of your most favorite items (vanilla and something to do with TTWD)?

Vanilla- I have a card that Eric gave me that says, "I believe in you". I've taken on a lot and when I get really down, I read that card over and over.  I bet he doesn't even know that.

TTWD- Eric's black belt that hangs in our closet, even when he's gone for work.  It serves so many purposes.  A reminder that he loves me and to behave, a bondage tool when he ties my wrists with it, an implement when he spanks me and a turn-on when he slaps my back with it.

4.  Book or E-reader? 

Sadly, nothing but textbooks... oh, and Ronnie's e-book!

5. How do you prefer being spanked? 

Over Eric's knee seems the most intimate but not-so-secretly, I'm looking forward to the day I'm tied to St. Andrew's Cross or a spanking bench. I'm ready to give up any ability to run away from him and just let go.

6.What can you see out of your window?

A burro named Charlie.

7. What's the most expensive thing you've bought in the last month?

Home repairs. Yuck. Broken pipe.


Monday, April 18, 2016

Who got reset today?

Monday, Monday, Monday

Need I say more?

Eric went to the right office but took the wrong bag and his day was downhill from there. Coffee cup was too tall for the microwave, hurt his foot on a piece of equipment and what was slated to be a short morning looked likely to become a two day venture.

We met halfway and I took him the correct bag. In turn, I got to eat at a restaurant he's been talking about for a long time.  The food was great but the place was packed and service was slow.  I could see the pressure building on Eric's face. The never being home, traveling so much, and change in job requirements have been getting the best of him. Sadly, I don't know how to help, though I'd be willing to do just about anything to make him happy.

On the drive back to my car, Eric talked about everything he hates at work and then I started going on and on about all the homework I didn't get done on the weekend.

"Does someone need a spanking right now?" Eric asked, pulling me over the center console. He hoisted my dress and exposed my bare bottom, slightly covered  by a bright pink thong.

Boy was he quick and he wasn't holding back by any means.

Spank, spank, spank, spank, spank.

I sat up and let the warmth build across my cheeks.

"You look like you just got fucked," he grinned as I kicked back, hair covering my eyes and rosy face.

"Spread your legs," he continued and I knew what was coming.  Three sharp blows to my inner left thigh. This stings so bad but the result is amazing.  I end up with Eric's hand print on my thigh for hours. I love looking at it, knowing he was there; I even place my own hand over it as though our fingers were touching. Also, when I squeeze my legs together, I can still feel the the burn of tender skin torched by his hand.

One small spanking session later, Eric was lighthearted and smiling again.

"That ought to hold you for the rest of the day," he said dropping me off in the parking lot. "You needed that little reset. Now go get your homework done, young lady. I love you."

I don't disagree but really.... who got reset today?

(Personally, I think it was Eric!)


Saturday, April 16, 2016

School Girl Spanking

Ronnie posted about the "school girl" look and how it enticed her husband into taking care of business.

I spent time on the beach, relaxing and rejuvenating, only to come home to more work, more homework and more and more and more.

Eric spanked me on Monday.  By Wednesday, I needed it again.  Mid-semester homework had me up all night (Blondie, where are you?  Are you still muddling through school like I am? Miss you!), work had me over-the-top with projects and exercise dropped off the list of remote possibilities.

Eric gently reminded me to take care of myself, quietly mentioned the importance of sleep and sweetly whispered, "I love you Pretty Girl" every morning. He is my greatest cheerleader but his tone changed when he discovered I was surviving on caffeine.

"You will be spending the weekend doing nothing but homework, young lady," he stated, "with a red ass and a list of healthy options the next time you get overloaded."

His expectation was set and I searched around the house for a Catholic School Girl skirt and some good old fashioned spanking shorts.  Hair in curly pig tails, white collared shirt displaying a scarlet bra underneath; Eric was pleased.

"Upstairs," he commanded, leading me to the corner.  "Stand here and think about what is going to happen today.  You need to straighten yourself out and make decisions that will get you where you want to be without hurting you in the process."

I breathed and tried to focus on his words. My body was jittery and alert, the anticipation tingling throughout my limbs.

I sat on the bed and copped up to all of my indiscretions. Eric remained still and serious, listening to the list of good things I'd given up (running, massages, blogging, food, sleep) and his jaw tightened a bit as I switched to the list of bad things I'd added on. (caffeine pills, espresso drinks and five hour energy shots)

He took me by the arm and led me to the closet.

"Turn away from me," he said and I swallowed as he picked up the flat wooden cutting board from the kitchen. I faced a long rack of clothing and got lost in the colored hanging sleeves as he warmed my seat, one side after the other.

Eric grabbed a pony tail and pulled my ear up to his mouth.

"You know I'm doing this because I love you," he said. "Raise your skirt."

I didn't hesitate, but pulled the material up to my waist and relaxed as he tapped my right cheek three times. Tap. Tap. Tap.


My bottom suddenly lit up and my back broke out in a sweat. I turned to Eric and threw my arms around his neck, holding on while settling into the pain.

"Turn around," his voice was stern.

"That hurt," I replied, eyes pleading with him.

He took my shoulders and rotated me back into position.

"It's supposed to hurt," he replied and once again, tap, tap, tap on the other side.  WHACK!

I grabbed my cheek, danced in a circle and caught my breath. Eric didn't wait this time.

"You better not clench anymore," he ordered. He spun me around and let me have it.


I wailed and wrapped myself around his body, holding onto his strong shoulders in an attempt to melt into his chest.

"Let it sink in honey," he said softly and when I began to relax, Eric looked deeply into my eyes. "Are you ready to go over my knee?"

My ass was on fire.  My skin was moist with sweat and between my legs, I was beyond squishy. The clutter in my brain was vanishing and I suddenly understood that this was all about making me feel better. Eric wasn't punishing me or trying to teach me a lesson.  He wasn't stepping in so he could be the boss.  He was studying my every move and doing whatever he could to get me back to a place of productive happiness.

"Yes," I said.

Eric had me undress before him and as my breasts fell from the red bra, he caught his breath and beamed at me.

"Pretty girl," he said.  "I do get turned on spanking you."

I looked down and saw his cock straining, hard and straight, against his jeans.  I reached out to unbuckle his belt but he pulled away.

"You don't get this today," Eric said, allowing himself to pop from the jeans and point in my direction.  "Only good girls get cock," he stated, putting it away and re-buttoning his pants.

Bare and exposed, over his knee, my bottom received a solid and memorable spanking.  Back in the corner, Eric lectured me about staying on top of my school work and keeping away from caffeine.

"Today is just a warm-up Sweetheart," he stated. "Next Friday, you'll be getting a round with every implement we have in the chest."

Sometimes I wonder why I tell Eric what is in my head. I've got a crazy week ahead of me and then a weekend that is so intense, I don't know how I can get through it.  Apparently, he does.

On my knees, I was permitted to watch as the cock I worship came out and "came" out. I was not allowed to touch but when I opened my mouth, I did get a little taste.

"Swallow," he commanded and we were done, back to work and school and life.

Admittedly, the rest of the day was extremely productive.  That night, I slept over ten hours and I am back on top of things today. The man knows me, and I have no doubt my ass will know him again on Friday. 42 days left in the semester. We'll get through it together.


Sunday, April 10, 2016

Vacation Discoveries

I've been gone, away from this cold nasty winter weather, to lounge at the beach with five girlfriends. Eric is working and won't be home until tomorrow or the next day. I have a renewed appreciation for him, for me, for us.


1.  I may have a past and a ton in the rear view mirror to deal with or get over, but I am NOT high maintenance.  Traveling, it becomes clear quickly who is temperature sensitive, food adverse, drink intolerant, moody, whiny, picky, bratty, rude and on opposite sleeping schedules.  Before noon on day one, Eric would have wanted to punish them all and I bet, we would have gotten a room at another hotel.

2.  I have no problem going off on my own and creating a perfectly wonderful time for myself. I also have no trouble talking to complete strangers and enjoying their conversations sometimes more than those of my own "friends". Hmmm.

3.  None of my girlfriends have a clue how nontraditional my relationship with Eric is.  What is more vanilla than vanilla?  My girlfriends.

4.  I will suck, swallow, lick, kiss, stroke, poke and cherish every inch of my husband. Some girls won't even entertain the basics. Each to her own but how boring to me!

5.  Eric can have my body any which way he ever chooses and I'm happy as a lark because he chose me.  Others, not so much. "Anal" is not a word ever spoken in some homes and an adult spanking?! Heavens no!!

6. I really get my feelings hurt when my best girlfriend confides in me how the other girls are driving her crazy and then when she thinks I am out of earshot, confides in them, I'm driving her crazy. That one smarts even more than the fake compliments they dished out all week before gossiping behind close doors about each other. Why do some girls act like that? Yuck!

7. Many husbands put weight on the shoulders of their wives. No matter how sad or bad things get with us, Eric consistently strives to take weight off of mine.  Thank you, my love.

8. There is something wonderful about coming home to a hot bubble bath and a tiny almond joy your husband threw in the freezer months ago for you.

9. Vacationing can include many fantastic get-away moments but real life is something that we all come home to. I can't imagine going back to work and being in school again. Morning will come way too soon.

10. I need a spanking. Break out the paddle and reset this girl, honey.


Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Spanked and blown - parking lot lovers

Dinner out, at a restaurant we've been to a thousand times.

"I just figured something out about you,"  Eric said, blue eyes sparkling. "You hide behind your hair when you are uneasy."

I looked at him, across the table, through a thick wavy strand that had fallen over my right eye.  He was correct, again. The man studies me. Truly takes the time to figure me out.

"What are you worried about?" he inquired, an evil tilt to his tone. "You've been spanked before."

I don't know what it was, but almost three weeks between then and now, I was a nervous wreck.

"You are so cute," he stated and I swallowed, leaving the curl in place rather than brushing it aside.

Eric paid the bill and as though he could read my thoughts, ushered me out the door. "Why does this feel like our first time?" he queried and I found myself over his lap in the car in the parking lot.

Smack, smack, smack.

Yes, he took the time to raise my dress and pull my panties aside so his hand could kiss my bare ass.

Smack, smack, smack.

"You are so out of practice," he stated as I reached back and protected myself from his stinging blows.

Eric laughed and tightened his grip around my wrist, making way for a round of quick hard spanks.

"You used to take a lot more before fighting me," he commented and I sat up, my right cheek on fire and a huge silly grin on my face.

"What are you so happy about?" Eric asked.

This time, I giggled and pointed down at the tent in his pants.

"Oh... you like that, do you?"

I nodded. Somehow, I could not speak that whole night. My voice was gone, lost somewhere behind the protective wasp of hair.

Eric popped out of his pants and once again I was over his knee, this time sucking his cock and stroking his balls.  Five minutes, tops, he was pumping hot cum into my mouth.

We drove home, something magical about being spanked and blown in a parking lot lingered between us in an invisible contentedness that tied us to each other.

"I love you."

"I love you!"



Sunday, April 3, 2016

Need a POW to talk? Easy

Any country engaging in battle finds itself with the unpleasant task of interrogating prisoners of war.  I suppose in any marriage, one or the other spouse finds times when he/she must inflict various torture techniques to get a partner to talk. (I have been accused of "poking the bear" until Eric either speaks up or shoves his cock in my mouth to shut me up.)

Lately, I've been silent in my own head, Eric and I unable to connect as we have before. Today I experienced a truly effective way to make any human squeal.

The tiny room was barely lit, hot and muggy, though the day outside was cool and comfortable.  A hard backed wooden chair pressed up against the filthy corner and a curtain danced throughout the dust bunnies buried underneath. The bed, lined with plush white linens and pretty purple pillows looked somehow ominous and uninviting.

"Pants off."

A command.

"Face down."

Another command, followed by a gesture toward the mattress.

"Spread cheeks."

I hid my face in the rectangular fluff and reached back, swallowing hard as I grasped my own ass and parted two unsuspecting globes. A deep breath and I glanced to the side, just in time to see a stick in the hands of my tormentor. Burning hot, it lapped at my skin and was followed by intense searing pain.

"Turn over."

I shielded my eyes from the piercing circular light overhead and my knees were thrust into my chest and opened wide.

Again, the stick, this time roasting the tender skin of all areas private to me and leaving red welted tracks of stinging agony. I clenched my teeth, fists balled up under the trauma as tears popped uncontrollably into view. My misery was unmistakable as I audibly begged for it to be over quickly.

I was handed a mirror, with which to view the raised battered skin that still smarted even though it had been cooled off by an oiled palm.  My own fault. I had willingly signed up for this treatment and paid for it in more ways than one.

Blushing, I raced home to Eric, ready to talk and searching for his tender kisses on my now smooth bikini waxed body.

Need a POW to talk? Easy. Just send him to a wax salon.