Thursday, August 31, 2017

A Lasting Spanking

It's Eric's travel season for work. He had to catch a red-eye last night and we still hadn't really connected since he returned on Monday from the other trip.  Everything is off around here.

"I don't have much time," he said, packing hastily since Harvey messed up the whole office's flight schedules.  He went into our closet and came back with a small carry-on suitcase and handful of suits. He flung open the luggage and stopped, giving me a sideways glance.

"What do we have here?!" he questioned, a hint of mischievous pleasure in his tone and in a grin that suddenly encompassed the majority of his face.  "In the closet," he ordered, his favorite strap coming out of the bag, a long lost implement left behind from a beach vacation I'd never quite finished unpacking.

Stripped completely, Eric cuffed my wrists overhead, to the clothes rack, and I shut my eyes feeling hanging shirts brush up against my nipples and a spattering of goose bumps break out on the back of my thighs.

Eric stroked my hair and whispered in my ear all of the reassuring things I'd been so desperate to hear.

"I love you, Amy Lynn.  I'm going to think about you while I'm away and when I get back, you're going to find yourself over my knee. You had better behave while I'm gone, Young Lady."

He took the strap and very methodically began spanking my bottom, one side and then the other, increasing his force with each strike while spacing them out just long enough for me to breathe.

Smack, smack, smack.

I clutched the bar where my hands were tied and as the heat in my cheeks grew, I began to shift from foot to foot, the sound of leather on skin filling my ears.

Smack, smack, WHAM!

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Eric took his strap and landed it across my right shoulder blade. Instantly, my spine broke out in a sea of sweat and I lurched forward, a soft moan escaping from my lips.  He continued his pattern of side to side but went the length of my body this time; shoulders, back, bottom, thighs.

Eric pulled my hair and was again in my ear, his voice deep and seductive knowing full well that what punishes my backside on the one hand, ignites a sexual flame on the other when used on my shoulders and back.

"I'm going to touch you, Amy," he threatened and promised all at the same time, "and if you are wet, we're going to take this to bed but if you are dry, your punishment will continue."

With two fingers, Eric very slowly traced the path he had made, mapping the raised track of red welts from the strap, right to left and top to bottom, until he slid between my thighs to gauge my reaction.

"Ahhh," he cooed, his fingers working their magic in a juicy pool.  With the other hand, he undid each cuff and once I was freed, lifted me from the floor and carried me to a nest of blankets, pillows, and sheets.  Eric positioned himself between my legs and leaned in, passionately kissing around my lips, tongue, and teeth.

"I want you," I uttered between breaths and bites.  "I want you to fuck me before you go.  I want you to show me I belong to you, that you love me, that I'm yours."

"Put your hands behind your head," he commanded and walked back to the closet. Eric returned with the strap in his hand and slapped each breast just hard enough to make me flinch, a fine line between pleasure and pain.

"You are going to stop questioning my love for you as of today," he said firmly and I knew he was serious. "I'm not going to allow you to get yourself all spun up for no reason because it hurts us both. Trust me and believe in us, Amy.  I'm not kidding."

Then Eric told me to bare my inner thigh for a reminder that would last the week he is gone.  We discovered this two years ago when I went to Reno with a bunch of girlfriends, sporting a red hand print where Eric had spanked my thigh for the first time.  It hurts like hell when he does it but when I'm feeling down and he's traveling, having his hand in full view, on tender flesh, a constant reminder; it works very well for me.

I still fought it, though.  Begged, pleaded, refused to open my thighs.

Eric, on limited time, would have nothing to do with this little tantrum of mine and quickly flipped me over and whipped my behind a good fifteen times.  I squealed and tried to cover myself with my hand, which he quickly caught and used to hold me still.

"Do you need more?" he asked, "Or are you going to comply?"

I hesitated and earned another round with his hand, this time.  Apparently, the combination of passion and punishment became too much because as I lay on my stomach, clutching the comforter and basking in the hot afterglow of a stingy spanking, Eric grabbed my hips and did a little doggy style magic that had us both coming alive.

Clean up was quick and I was warned to keep the strap close by.

"I'll be back in a week and that thing better not have disappeared again," he said as he tapped my nose with his finger and kissed my forehead before handing the implement over.

With an Uber waiting outside, I sat on the staircase sleepily watching my husband zip up his boots and do a quick inventory of luggage, electronics, and wallet.  Then he joined me on the stair for a kiss good-bye.

"I know you don't want this," Eric said gently spreading my legs and exposing my inner left thigh, "but I really think you need it," he continued.

I reached through the railing on the stairwell and held on, closing my eyes and gritting my teeth.


Three times, in exactly the same spot, Eric landed a hard smack with his hand, red raised fingerprints marking searing skin as I cried out.  Then he gently kissed along my thigh and taking my face in his hands, looked me straight in the eye.

"I love you, Amy Lynn," his voice was steady and strong, "You've got my hand print to remind you and I'll be home soon."

And then he was gone, off to save the world again.

This morning, I find myself staring often at the five fingers placed so perfectly on my inner thigh. How oddly comforting it is for me to see and feel him there.

Have you found a way to make a spanking last?


Monday, August 28, 2017

Back on the Ice

First time, on the ice, bright cheery face
with red lips and glossy blue eyes
smiling from under a pink beanie
with a white puff ball on top.
Her mitten hand holding onto me, so tightly,
the thrill of new skates mingled
with a fear of falling. Age four.

At fourteen, the mittens have gone
and so has the beanie.  Short skirt
twirling, spinning, jumping,
her hair billowing as she races from
one side of the lake to the other.
There is freedom on the ice that is
lacking elsewhere in a world of
puberty and teen social pressure.
I am on the shoreline, watching,
but my hand is not required as she
glides back and forth on her own.

At nineteen, 
the call, 
a crack in the ice,
she slipped through and got out but
I hadn't told her about jagged lines 
etching frozen water or density 
or changing seasons. I hadn't covered everything.

She was out there, on her own
without my hand to hold onto
and we dodged a bullet because
she reached out and spoke up while
we listened to her cries in the middle of the night.
Weeks of time lost, focus changed,
repairing, rebuilding, relearning.

The ice calls to her, 
still healing, still naive
to the dangers of winter, and water, and elements.
She takes my hand with full grown fingers
and promises to be safe,
her other hand clutching
the very skates she wore in her fall.

I drive four hundred miles to the lake,
examine every inch of the ice while she sleeps
and try not to lecture or hover or show
the great new fear that has burrowed deep inside me.
I cannot rationalize leaving her side but
she is not taking no for an answer,
is grown,
is ready, 
wants to skate by herself.

My sweet round faced child, 
same bright red lips and fresh blue eyes,
back on the ice, twirling and spinning,
racing in the best pair of skates I can afford.
She has me in her head and in her heart
but has dropped my hand once again.
Every crack in the ice presents a catastrophic ending
to the most powerful love story a
mother can have, but the ice
brings her life and she 
deserves to grow and
to thrive and to succeed in her own way,
on her own path. I need to believe, to trust,
to let go.

Four hundred miles back home, I weep tears of agony 
and tears of hope, curled up on her bed while
clutching that little girl's pillow as tightly as her mitten
hand held mine so many years ago.
Reassuring words from the first day on the ice, repeated as
I struggle to sound confident,
"It's okay honey.  Everybody falls but you just get up 
and try again.  You'll be fine, sweetheart.  
I'm here for you. I promise. I'm always here."


Wednesday, August 23, 2017


Another sleepless night, the medication
works so well and then suddenly,
not at all. It has been such a rough week.
Everyone I see and hear from
keeps saying the same thing to me:

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I feel my body falling apart,
and my strength slipping away.
I'm being tested beyond what is
reasonable and the physical and
psychological fallout is heart
wrenching, life threatening.

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I cannot fix everything that is broken, but
I will not rest until my primary concern is
safe and healthy. Only then can I breathe and
look toward my own well being, less and less
a person I see, can rely on, trust or believe in.

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I created this world, this life, this mess.
Anxiety takes over rationale and intellect,
a jumble of nerves, many damaged, reactive.
I'll refrain from going so far as to strike a match,
though at times I feel as though heat
is the only thing keeping this heart from
freezing solid in a chest of pain. Not
pretty enough. Not smart enough. A future
ignored, nothing worth working towards.
This is not my personality.  This is not who
I am nor who I choose to be. I want
this person gone. Need myself to return.

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It's far too late. I was lost many years ago
but there was light in front of me.
I was on the cusp of starting down that
long road back, but now I
wonder if there is such a place where
I am the one with joy, plans, tranquility.
The people around me must be
willing to fight as hard as I will
for life, for love, for happiness. I
risk great rejection with a deep outpouring
from my own vulnerable heart;
please do not break me down further.

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I can't imagine turning away, saving
myself over someone I love. I don't know
where to begin or if this problem
is exaggerated in my head, which throbs
with terror, doubt, and fear. I'm
taking a trip Saturday to find some answers
and won't return until late on Monday.

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If I lie down right now, I may
never get up so instead I'll fight for a
better beginning and start over again.
This time, I will make sure we are

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We can get there but things will be different,
and only if you are willing for we to exist.
Being lost in this shuffle is no way to thrive.
Hold onto me. We are falling. I am falling.

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I'll be sure to stop by on my way home
to put my toes in the sand. Let me know
if you'll be there.


Monday, August 21, 2017

That Spankin' Thing

We were in a meeting, barely knew each other, and I'd walked in with a freshly concocted beet juice. It was terrible.  I made a face and the man at the end of the table gave me a look.

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"You made it," he warned, gesturing to the glass mason jar in my hand, "You better drink the whole thing."

"Who does he think he is?!" I thought, confused by the warm tingling feelings I had as I sucked down the rest of the juice under his watchful eye.

Months later, we had lunch at a restaurant with two other men far above my pay grade.  I picked at my plate while the conversation droned on and on about topics that meant nothing to me.  The man at the end of the table sent me a text.

"You better finish everything on that plate, young lady."

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Once again, "Who the hell does he think he is?!" I thought and blushed but said yes to a first date when he walked me to the car.

Little hints.  Little signs.  He spoke them, gestured, had that presence about him but never knew what his actions were doing to me.  I kept my secrets buried.  We married.  He never knew.

Fast forward to the library.  He went with me and hung out while I worked with a study group.  I got there early, was reading on my phone, when he came up behind me.

"Who is Matt Anglin?" he inquired.

I shared the spanking stories I'd been reading for years.  He spent his time in the library researching and we left full of interesting conversation, enticed by others, and admitting our own inner desires.

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The blog was born.  We experimented.  I thrived.  He did too.

Makes me wonder... how did you first figure out that spankin' thing?


Saturday, August 19, 2017

Eric didn't make me wait any longer

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I am the Queen of giving 100% to everything,
and then with nothing left, losing myself in the mix.

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I love so deeply, the threat of being hurt often
causes me to push away what I need the most.

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Eric did what I asked and left me with
the pain inside overshadowing
the love I have for him.

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When you peel back the layers,
who do you see?
I'm in here, wanting to come out.
Fear of rejection traps me.

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Eric called today.  He spent almost two hours
on the phone with me.  We agreed that neither
of us liked how we left things.  He said, "You
have so much on your plate, when you took me
off it, I figured you needed whatever break you
could get so I gave it to you."

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I said, "Being away from you is never a break.
When I push you away, it's because I'm afraid
you won't be there when I look for you and
that you will hurt me."

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Thank you Bloggers for being there for me, him, us.
I've got a few things I need to focus on now.
Eric will be back the 28th but made it clear,
"nothing has changed" from where he stands.

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Now that I can let go of the feeling that things are not
right between us, I can do what needs to
be done to make everyone else, including me, better.

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Friday, August 18, 2017

My heart is with you, Eric

I may not be with you now, but my heart is always with you, my love.

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Kiss U, Eric Michael.


Thursday, August 17, 2017

Trying to Breathe

We are both trying to breathe right now.

Life has thrown some curve balls. Serious ones.  The kind that eat at your gut, even while you sleep.

We each have our own list and I'm sorry to say, they didn't come in threes.  There are far more.  Eric keeps his troubles close to his chest while dealing with my endless tears, frantic texts, and heart wrenching phone calls. He is being kind and protective, knowing I am at my breaking point but not sharing that he is also at his.

Eric left last night and is traveling until the 28th.  My first reaction was selfish.  How could he leave me now? How could he go when I've fallen so far, so fast? When or is the situation ever going to change?

My second reaction was empathetic.  He's under incredible stress of his own and has now spent endless hours supporting, loving, holding, listening while his girl struggles,  unable to solve or fix anything.  He would take the pain away in a heartbeat if he could but he can't.  This is not fixable. Not solvable. Something that only time will cure.  His love is grand but can't make this better.

Partially to give him the break he so desperately needs, partially to save myself from the pain of reaching out at a time when he can't respond, I told him to go and not communicate until he was home.  I felt strong at the time, steely eyed, and ready to manage on my own, because ultimately that is what I have to do.  I felt like I was giving him a chance to focus on work and take a break from the drama of here. I felt it was the right thing for us during this storm that is not about us as a couple, but is destructive to us individually.  I don't want the storm to affect our relationship. Eric is in flood waters grasping at branches in all different directions.  I'm in a wind storm, blown from cliff to cliff, struggling not to fall off the edge, moving full speed ahead in one direction only to be blown in another.  Eric needs to plant his feet on solid dry land.  I need to get off the cliffs.  We can't be together right now so it just made sense that we would work on our own while apart.

I could have done it better.  Should have done it better.  A text and a voicemail.  He said okay, through another voicemail and was gone before I got home.  The missing car in the garage, I panicked and reached out but he did not answer and will stick to the plan because it is mine.

I love Eric.  He is the most incredible man I've ever met and his love and passion for life is boundless. I don't know what I would do without him and am trying to believe this break will bring us closer rather than tear us apart.

I have eleven days without my husband.  There are others who need me and the path is long, the road treacherous, and I'm scared to death but determined. There is no choice in this one. Add my own issues; physical manifestations from multiple areas.  I know too well how hard it is to watch someone you love suffer without having the ability to take the pain away. Eric cannot add that to the strain he is enduring at work.

I'm trying to breathe.  Eric is out there somewhere, trying to do the same.  We each need a miracle to bring us back together- stronger, healthier, and connected again.  We both need a break from my tears.


Friday, August 11, 2017

A Meme - thanks to Ella!

Ellaeverafter has started an August meme.  Here you go!

1.Name a tender song that can almost make you cry. 
I cry every time I play Mariah Carey - Always Be My Baby. Each new stage of life my son entered, from crawling to college, I would play this song and think of him.  Still gets me today.

2.  What is your favorite shade of lipstick?  What about nail polish?  If you do not wear lipstick or polish, what do you like or dislike about the shades you see others wear?
I like red nail polish, always on toes but sometimes on fingers too.  Lipstick bugs me so I usually go with a Beeswax colored chapstick instead.

3.  Name a children's nursery rhyme or song that you loved and to which you remember all the words. I'm not sure if this would count as a nursery rhyme but I always sang Cats in the Cradle to my kids.

4.  What outfit would you put on in the morning if you wanted to feel happy and well dressed?  Something in which you think you look pretty damn good! Believe it or not, white shorts and a bright teal t-shirt. The blue matches my eyes and the shorts show off long tan legs.  For work, though, a red dress with black blazer.

5.  If you had enough money to buy just one, would it be a cottage by the ocean or a cabin in the mountains? OCEAN, OCEAN, OCEAN!

6.  If you are old enough, which one of the Beatles did you have a "thing" for?  If you are not that old, tell us a musician that really did it for you. Who are the Beatles?

7.  Name a smell that you love - could be kitchen, outdoors, person, your choice. I love baking bread (not doing it, the smell of it) and cookies.  When Eric is traveling for work, I wear his t-shirt to bed so I can smell his cologne.

8.  How often do you defuzz your legs.  Wax, razor, or electric? Daily. Razor in shower.

9.  How/why did you choose your blog name? Eric and I were really looking for a partnership when we got married. He was attracted to the strong independent me and I was tired of doing everything on my own, but am ultimately very independent.  So, Eric gets 51% and I get 49%.  We love ttwd and have thoroughly enjoyed the weight he has been able to take off my shoulders without changing who I am.

10.  What do you like to eat for breakfast?  To drink?  Coffee or tea? When I'm bad, chocolate chip pancakes. When I'm good, egg white and spinach scramble.  Caffeine makes me crazy so I stick with tea but am more a water with lemon kind of girl.

11.  How many siblings do you have?  Or are you an only child?  Are you the oldest, a middle, or the youngest child?
One sibling, two years younger, who will be my closest friend for life.

12.  What is your favorite salad dressing?  No dressing required.  I tend to juice my veggies rather than chew them.

13.  If you could sit next to anyone (alive) on a long plane trip, who would you pick?
My answer would have been Maya Angelou but unfortunately she is no longer living.  I love the way she wove words together.  I suppose I'd go with Oprah instead.  She knew Maya quite well.  I'd enjoy hearing their stories.

14.  Have you ever gone shopping just to cheer yourself up?
Yes, but I find I always regret it later - hence my last post.

15.  If there is one thing that can make you lose your temper, what would it be?
I flare up when someone has hurt my child or someone I love. I also lose it if my feet get too hot.  Odd, I know.

16.  Tell us about the best photograph you have ever had taken. The last birthday I spent alone at the beach before I met Eric, I took a series of rocks and shells that had been shaped by the water. They all looked like hearts.

17.  Have you ever gone skinny-dipping and where?
As much as I love the ocean, you'd think I would have done this, but not yet.  It's on the to-do list for sure.

18.  What do you like on your pizza?  What don't you like on your pizza?
Pizza is an all time favorite.  I eat anything but onions and anchovies on my pie.

Wednesday, August 9, 2017

The Belt Makes a Point - Straighten Up Amy Lynn!

Roses are red
And so is poor Amy
The house is a mess
And Eric did blame me

He has been working
I'm off for the week
He used his belt
On cheek after cheek

My cleaning plans
For closets and drawers
Had everything emptied
All over the floors

But then there were phone calls
Invites to lunch
Followed by shopping
And I bought a bunch

Boxes and bags
There was a ton more
He told me to take it
All back to the store

He said we were saving
And that was my plan
"You'll stick to your goals,"
He said, as my man

I have a sore bottom
Must get the house done
Before I can have
Anymore shopping fun

I wanted to yell
And put up a fight
But deep down I know
He was totally right

Pouting Amy

Saturday, August 5, 2017

In with the old - what's your most viewed post?

Hello Bloggers!

I was looking at our stats, amazed at all of the different countries out there reading this 'lil blog, when I noticed the "all time" button on the screen.  Thought it would be fun if we all re-posted our most popular blog entry.  Mine is from September 2015 and is titled "Spankings Wait for No One". Let me know if you're playing along so I can check and see what your most viewed post is... oddly, this one has been read over four times more than any of the others but there has never been a comment made. Hmmm.


Here you go:

Spankings wait for no one

No texting and driving is a strict rule in our house, however Eric proved yesterday that he is fully capable of spanking and driving!

I was the lucky recipient of a surprise lunch date when my hubby showed up at the office just as I was about to head home for a sandwich.  He swept me away and we went to a tiny burger joint (one of our first dates) where the milkshakes are homemade, the meat is never frozen and the fries are thick, hearty potato wedges. I melted (it was extremely hot in there!) while staring into his dreamy eyes and listening to his tales about being on the road and in the air for work.  Just as we were about to finish, he asked how school was going. I skirted the question, flirted around the issues and avoided letting on how far behind I had gotten.

Eric threatened.

"Do you remember when we first started looking into this and read a lot of Clint and Chelsea?"

I nodded.

"Clint was very clear about not waiting to punish.  Now tell me what is really going on or I'll take you by the arm, march you into the restroom out back and give you one hell of a spanking."

I giggled.  Really?  I'm not six!

Eric stood up, grabbed my arm and as promised, led me to the bathroom behind the diner.  It's one of those filthy his/her hole-in-the-wall places with no airflow that probably gets cleaned once or twice a month and is used primarily by construction crews who are rebuilding the entire block.

He locked the door and told me to raise my dress, commenting on the fact that I had chosen not to wear panties that morning.  He pushed me toward the wall but I didn't want to touch it so my hands awkwardly reached out and then back, throwing my balance and causing my dress to fall around my knees.

"Wall too dirty for you?" he asked, pulling my dress back up and pressing my hips into the plaster behind me. "How does it feel to have that pretty little ass of yours up against the dirty wall?" he questioned.  His hands went between my legs, fingering me as he grinned at the pool of moisture he found.  He grabbed my hair and leaned in, kissing me passionately and then turned me toward the sink and raised his hand for the first spank.

Knock, knock

We both froze.  The sound of a woman and some small children carried its way into the room.  Eric yanked my dress to its proper place and grabbed my hand.  We exited, both red faced and silly; my giggle returned.

Ten minutes after the restroom bust, we were heading down the freeway.

"You got lucky," Eric said, playfully slapping at my inner thigh.  "Now tell me the true status of your schoolwork," he said in a more serious tone.

Why I did not just answer the question is beyond me.  I got mouthy, popped off, went into an uncalled for rendition of "who do you think you are checking up on me like I'm some kid who can't keep her shit straight" and it was all over.  Eric undid my seat belt, pulled me across his lap, and spanked my bare bottom while driving 65 mph. He did not hold back.  Embarrassed and stinging, I sat quietly in my seat and watched the white line keep time with our tires on the side of the road.

Eric drove right passed my office.

"Hey!" I exclaimed.  "You just missed the exit."

He didn't answer but shot me a look. Two turns later, I realized we were heading home.

"Everything off," Eric said sternly, half pushing and half pulling me up the stairs to our bedroom.  He undid the zipper on my dress and as I slowly dropped it down to my feet, took a straight back chair and placed it in the center of the room.

"Faster!" he snapped, unhooking my bra and then sitting in anticipation, watched while I very slowly placed my dress and undergarment on the dresser.  Eric sighed, tugged my wrist with one quick jolt and I was over his knee.

Smack, smack, smack

The car spanking had some definite force to it and an angle that left a serious sting but without the distraction of having to operate a moving vehicle, Eric added a powerful pack to his palm.  I couldn't imagine how harsh the hairbrush or some other implement could be in this position.  I've always been bent over the bed or counter but being so vulnerable, in such a compromising state, yet feeling safe and lovingly held onto; intense!

"Why are you being punished, Amy?" he asked, giving my cheek a moment to breathe.

"I haven't done my homework." I stated.

Six swats rained down on my red, heated bottom.

"No." he said sternly.  "Try again."

"Because I was being mouthy and disrespectful?"  I asked.


Again, six swats on the same cheek, fast and hard, no mercy at all.


I was stumped.  Out of options.  Couldn't think of anything else to say.

Eric began again and I reached my right hand back to cover my burning flesh.

"Uh uh," he said, taking my arm and pinning in against my back.  The onslaught of spanks continued until I cried out.

"I don't know, Eric!  I don't know."

He stopped and sat me on my knees before him.

"You put us in a very dangerous position challenging me in the car like that."  His hands were under my chin and his eyes were drilling into my gaze.  "Don't you ever challenge me again." he stated and kissing my forehead, pulled me to my feet and told me to get dressed for work.

Twenty minutes later I was at my desk with a sore bottom and a clear message.  The office staff asked throughout the day how my lunch had gone.  If they only knew...

Thursday, August 3, 2017

Feeling the paddle

It's hot and muggy. I feel irritable.

Eric is looking at a heavy Fall travel schedule.  I feel emotional loneliness ready to set in.

My clothes are too tight or not fitting quite right.  I feel fat and unattractive.

My car episode is over but Eric's co-worker teased me about it today. I feel stupid.

The internet was down for over four hours. I feel annoyed.

We sat at dinner and I said nothing.

"What's up, Cranky McSpanky?" Eric asked.

I glared.  I huffed.  I might have even rolled my eyes.

Then I picked up my half eaten plate of food, tossed it in the sink, and walked away from the table.

"Amy?" Eric sounded concerned.  "What's going on?"

I lost it.

"I'm tired of feeling like you are always leaving!" I hollered and slammed the door to the garage.

I was angry. Mad. Hurt.

Eric waited a few minutes and then got me to come back in the house.  He reminded me of all of the logic that went behind the situation and the reasons we do the things we do.  Nothing he said was new to me but nothing he said made me FEEL better.  Finally, he gave up.

"I think you just want to throw a fit, Amy Lynn," he announced, leaving me to my own misery.

As if just given permission, I threw it.  I yelled and stomped and pouted and possibly knocked over a small table stacked with magazines and such.  Oh yes, I was crying and boo hooing about my unhappy life (which quite frankly, is NOT unhappy) and I made an academy award scene that my husband missed!

When I slowed down enough to realize Eric wasn't even downstairs anymore, I stormed into our room to blast him for not even bothering to care enough to stick around for my tantrum. I stopped short when I noticed the spanking chair moved to the center of the room and a flat wooden cheese board perched across the seat.

Eric sat in bed, reading his new John Grisham book and waiting patiently.

Pants down, over his knee, a stern hand spanking quickly turned into a sound paddling.

A few minutes in the corner and I ended up having a really good cry in Eric's arms.

The long trips are coming and it's hard to transition when we've been able to enjoy some solid time together.

Obviously, I'm still not over it and I may never be.  However, tonight, I was reminded that...

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Sigh.  Much of my prior feelings have gone but I'm still feeling that paddle.


Wednesday, August 2, 2017

Not the spanking I expected

I heard the garage door open and sat tentatively in the living room.  My phone beeped and deja vu set in with a text repeated from earlier in the day.

"Go to the car."

I had a flash, imagined my bare bottom bent over the hood of the car while being lectured by my husband on the purpose of an on/off switch.  I took a deep breath, reminded myself to leave Miss Mouthy in the house, and walked out the door.

At first, I didn't see Eric but then realized he was in the passenger seat.  Confused, I opened the door to the drivers side and got in.  OMG.  That man.  There he was, clip board in hand, passing me a homemade business card with this on one side and "Ben Dover, DMV Instructor" on the other.

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I laughed and called him "Eric" but no, he was fully in character.

"Miss Amy Lynn, you will refer to me as Mr. Dover for the remainder of this lesson and I expect you to take this seriously.  Could you pass a driving test?"

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The temptation to roll my eyes when he actually handed me a DMV booklet and the manual to my new car was overwhelming, but I remained steadfast and simply replied, "Yes Sir".

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"You know, young lady," he boomed, "Safe driving is no accident."

How that man can keep a straight face is beyond me.  I was dying and sure I would bust out laughing any time.  Eric went on and on, through the Hybrid checklists, through parts of the manual, had me adjust mirrors and set up my hands free blue tooth.

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It was pretty funny to begin with but actually, by the time he was done, I knew more about the car than I have any vehicle I've driven in the past twenty-five years.  My mirrors are in the right place! My seat is the right height!  I'm almost as smart as my smart car!

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After a reminder about the importance of NEVER TEXTING while driving, I was KISSED by Mr. Ben Dover, DMV Instructor.  Naturally, I did not want to seem rude, so I kissed him back.

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At dinner I asked, "Aren't you going to spank me for leaving the car on this afternoon?"

Eric shook his head.

"Honey, that could happen to anyone.  I should have taken the time to show you everything when we bought the car to begin with."

There was a moment of silence and then he got that adorable little glint in his eye that always lets me know he is up to something.

"Did you WANT a spanking tonight?" he asked suggestively raising his eyebrows up and down.

I blushed and grinned and suddenly could not find my tongue.

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Yes bloggers, I got a "spanking" but it wasn't the kind I expected.  ;)