Wednesday, March 27, 2019

How to Turn Me On with a Spanking - the Fantasy

Ingredients -
190 lb. Eric Michael
2 Sport Wrist Cuffs
1 Small Leather Strap
1 Riding Crop
1 Butt Plug (optional)

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It had been a long day at the office and I piled too many things in my arms for the trek from the car to the house, not wanting to take more than one trip before I could get those tall black high heeled boots off my feet.  Eric had gotten home an hour earlier and I heard the laundry going and the scent of chili verde came wafting from the kitchen.

"I'm home," I yelled, toggling the door knob with my elbow. My husband appeared, smiling face, eager to greet me just as I clumsily lost my grip and dropped the lunchbox, water bottle, phone, keys, and pile of papers I'd precariously stacked in the crook of my arm just moments before.

"DAMN IT!" I hollered, the stress of work finally exiting the tense jaw of restraint I'd maintained all day.

"Slow down there, Missy," Eric said, helping gather my belongings off the floor while catching a glimpse of a thin black thong tucked discretely under my dress.  "No need to be cursing your first minute in the door."

He made a neat bundle of my papers while I carried the stained early morning coffee mug and lunch box remnants into the kitchen.  The crock pot bubbled on the counter top, cubed pork in fresh green tomatillo sauce, a tower of small white tortillas standing by.

"I see my Mexican Grandmother beat me home," I teased.

Eric called me back to the entry way.

"You dropped your car keys," he stated, pointing to the corner of a Home Sweet Home carpet square welcome mat about three feet away from where he was standing.

"Really?!" I thought, staring at the man who had just picked up a hundred pieces of paper but couldn't do the same for a set of keys.

I huffed audibly, crossed in front of him, and bent down to grab them.


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Out of nowhere, one perfectly placed well-timed hard spank landed across my right cheek and suddenly a thrilling rush of excitement ran through every nerve in my body.

"I think you'd better go upstairs, Amy Lynn," Eric said and we both bounded for the bedroom.
On the bench at the end of our bed, I saw a small brown leather strap and a black riding crop that usually stayed tucked away in our toy chest.

"Don't be looking at that, Miss Nosy Parker" Eric scolded, turning me toward the corner where the lightening white paint comes together in a perfectly straight line that I've spent many times pressed against, naked nipples, with a stinging red ass.  This time instead, my hair was gently stroked before my hands were placed on the wall, a whispered command to my ear, "Don't move."

Eric went down on his knees and slowly, deliberately, unzipped each of my boots, pulling the gold zippers one by one, his fingers barely touching my calves before releasing my feet to the floor.  For the second time that night, he leaned back just enough to see two white globes hidden under the pleats of my work dress. Satisfied, he rose and moving my hair away from my neck, planted a soft kiss before mimicking the slow steady unzip of my boots with his hand on the top of my collar all the way down to my hips.

"Step out of your dress, you bad girl of mine," he ordered and still lost in his kiss, the feeling of his hands removing my clothes, the softness of his fingers running through my hair, backed by the strength of his voice, I did as I was told.

Naked, except for the thong, Eric led me to the closet where he had placed two wrist cuffs on the top shelf of our clothes rack.  Without a sound, he latched each of my hands to the white wire shelving and with the smell of freshly laundered clothes in my face, I breathed in deeply, backing into the rock hard cock of the man standing behind me.

"You could cut diamonds with that thing," I say in a husky sultry sounding voice unrecognized by me.

"Oh no you don't," he warns yanking my hair just enough to capture my attention. "You've been a very bad girl, dropping stuff all over the floor and then cursing like it's somebody else's fault before you even say hello. There's no cock for you tonight!"

Eric takes the riding crop and traces the backs of my legs, inner thighs, and butt as he speaks.  He moves up against my body, once more placing the soft leather end of the crop around my shoulders until it rests between my breasts, which he smacks just enough to alert them that he is in charge.  The crop circles around my nipples, down my belly, back around my thigh and finds it's way between my legs.  Slightly harder swats between my knees tell me to spread my feet further apart and any resistance I feign is met with a sharper blow.

My inner thighs burn and sizzle with each strike of the crop. Not enough to yell out, not even enough to cause real pain, but plenty to make me jump with each tap.  Eric moves to my bottom and starts to rhythmically spank each cheek, picking up his speed and intensity as the closet gets warmer in tune with the redness and heat of my skin. He stops and pulls at the back of my hair, bringing my head close enough to his mouth that his breath tickles my hairline.

"You better not be wet," he threatens and I close my eyes as his fingers push the thong aside and part my lips so he can enter the warm sopping cavern below my clit.

"Amy Lynn!" his tone is harsh and I shudder as he pulls away to punish me further with the strap.

Slap, slap, slap.

Eric warms up with folded leather on my bare ass.  I bounce around a few times, wiggle out of the way as much as possible with my hands still latched overhead.  Squirm girl, I can't stand still for anything.

"Do I need to remind your feet where to stand with the crop again?" Eric asks and I snap back in place, legs wide and body solidly planted after all.

"No sir," I say and his smile can be felt in the stillness of the air around us.

"That's right," he coos from behind me, "that's what I want to hear."

Then, without warning, I feel a hot inch wide welt growing on my right shoulder blade, the result of the strap landing unexpected and swift.  My back immediately breaks out in a river of sweat and my crotch grows thick with moisture.  The strap comes down on the other side and I squeeze the metal bars with my hands, head tingling with dopamine, as my nipples push forward as if caught in a cold wind storm.  The strap continues making it's path down my bottom, hips, and thighs.  Pain alternates with pleasure, then overlaps, then mixes into one incredible sensation, and my breathing intensifies.

"Let me check again," Eric says and his fingers dance inside me once more.  This time, the strain of his cock in his pants is too much to be ignored so rather than continue, he reaches up and unhooks the cuffs, leading me out into our room.

I stand and watch as Eric takes off his jeans, a tented pair of navy blue boxers underneath.  He catches me staring and grins as he slides the cotton blend down his legs, exposing what I crave.

"Is this what you want?" he asks and I blush, whisper a soft reply.

"Yes sir."


EsMay wrote a story too!  Submitting to be Led

Saturday, March 23, 2019

A Good Spanking is like Really Good Sex

Okay fellas, this one is for you.

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See?  You're already glad to be reading this blog.

Sex is enjoyable on many levels.  You do your thing and you cum.  Great.  As I understand it, physically it's pretty much the same for men every single time.

For women? Not the same.  We can have really good sex without ever climaxing.  We can have really good sex with a basic clitoral orgasm. We can also have really good sex with earth shattering ear piercing nonstop rolling orgasms. My point is, it's all good but for us it can be physically very different each time.

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That's right, fellas.  Emotions play a role in sex with women.  You can have all the right parts and all the right moves but the type of physical reaction you get from your girl has a lot to do with the emotional side of the house.  Do not fear her feelings - work with them.  Foreplay. Love languages. Butterflies and seduction.

Now, onto a good spanking.

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Physically, once again, a spanking can come in many forms.  There is the gentle, playful, flirty smack here and there that ignites a little fire inside.  During sex, there's that sensual swat and pull of her hair that adds fuel to what already is magical.  Discipline; that over-the-knee childlike pose where there is great pain in the penance followed by acceptance or forgiveness.  And the reset; intense and long and hard enough to release the cobwebs crowding our minds. Yes, physically the implement, the clothing or lack there of, and frankly how hard you hit all play into the way a spanking feels but once again there is the

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This one is not as clear as the emotions that play on the sexual side.  Spanking is taboo and plays a different role in relationships around the globe. Know your partner and your reason behind it to start but go further, explore.

Shoot! I'm out of time.  Girls!  Let's help our men out.  I challenge every one of us (myself included) to write a fantasy spanking post that we can all refer to when starting that conversation with our guys about what we really want, need, desire.  Some may be examples of what we don't like while others may spark an internal longing that we've never been able to say out loud. Include in your fantasy how you feel after the spanking is over - that's really the part where a good spanking is like good sex. All those warm fuzzy relaxed loving feelings that come afterwards.

Title your post: "How to spank me when I'm ______, a fantasy"  and fill in the blank with anything like: being mouthy, feeling guilty, sexy, sad, naughty, angry.... the list goes on!

Can't wait to read your stories!!


Friday, March 22, 2019

My apologies


At the beginning of the week Eric told me, ordered me, commanded that I get on here and let you know my back is fine.  Thank you for all of the well wishes.  One night of Vicodin (okay, two), and I was much better.

I can't seem to find my way here.  I get through the day.  Work.  Dinner.  And I just slip back into bed.  One more week and I'm off to see my sister.  A week after that, my daughters.

It's no fun having Eric gone.  It's just not. I sent him some pictures to try and play but... it's just not the same.


Thursday, March 14, 2019

Swimming in a Sea of Vicodin

I'm swimming in a sea of Vicodin
Body relaxed
Aches and pains vanished
Mind calm
Fears diminished
Cozy and comfortable, buried under the covers

There is no wonder we have an opioid crisis in this country

Yesterday I hurt my back
Not sure how it happened
but the pain was such that I could barely get upstairs
and when I finally got in bed
it got worse

After a heating pad
and screwing around with a foam roll and extra pillows,
I gave in

One little white pill and a sip of water

I slept like a baby
Realize now, I carry pain in other areas of my body
Vicodin removed that too

I'm swimming in a sea of Vicodin and am going to lie here
enjoying this little vacation from agony
relishing life without pain
knowing it's short lived
because the last thing I need
is an addiction
but honestly
for the moment
pain free


Sunday, March 10, 2019

At the Base of the Mountain

I dropped Eric off at the airport at 2pm yesterday.  He'd tanned my hide as best he could that morning; a loving good-bye, a stern reminder, and a desperate plea for patience and understanding all rolled into one.  Midway, Eric told me to ask him for it.  To tell him I wanted it, needed it.  I couldn't.  Inside I was screaming, begging for him to just tear into me, find all my pain and remove it with his paddle.  We have this relationship.  He doesn't have to ask to discipline me but in retrospect, I believe he was looking for assurance that what he was planning, I was in need of.

Submission.  Certainly not my strong suit and something Eric and I boldly claim neither of us requires of me.  He is drawn to my strength and independence.  Actually, our marital issues tend to bubble up when I'm feeling weak, frail, and needy.  Yesterday, though, I thought if I could have portrayed a more submissive side at times like those, Eric wouldn't have felt the need to verify or check in that we were on the same page.  Maybe he wanted to hear my voice, submitting to his request, while confirming that my body was submitting to his discipline.  My run-away brain could overthink this forever.  According to the rules, I should just ask.

Anyway, I dropped Eric off and then drove.  I drove and drove and drove until I was deep in the hills, rather far from where we live.  Standing at the base of the mountain, my mind began the mishmash and swirl of negative voices, my insecurities all rolled into one, gnawing at my confidence in the love we share.  I squeezed my butt cheek and felt the tender bruise from that morning; still fresh enough to provide a sense of security.  I began my trek up the hill, between tall heavily leaved trees with gaping hollowed mouths where knots made homes for creatures of the forest. Halfway up, my legs burned, calves straining against an unforgiving path, my breathing harsh with a hint of wheezing as though I were a child with allergies.

Suddenly, the sky parted the tops of the trees and torrential rain poured down upon my body.  I was completely caught off guard and unprepared. It never rains here but there, on the side of the mountain, in shorts and a thin t-shirt, I became soaked, wet, and cold.  My tears fell in unison, those of sadness and loss but also of determination and love. I carried on for over two hours before making the long drive at dusk.

This morning, the time change.  We've lost an hour and though I'm uneasy waking up alone in bed, I am thankful that there are sixty fewer seconds I have to wait for Eric to return home.


Wednesday, March 6, 2019

Lessons to be Learned

Hello Blog Land,

Eric is home.  He got in last night and is here just until Saturday but as some of you figured out, things have not been going well.  For whatever reason, this time I found his being gone impossible.  In the past, I've always moaned and groaned, but I've found my footing and managed the emptiness through work, friends, projects, and a lot of long distance phone sex, playfulness, etc. with my husband.  It's been two and a half months since he left and I flat out have never managed to get into that groove.

Behind the scenes, things really went south on February 13 when Eric and I quit talking to each other. I wanted him to come home and he felt like I was giving him an ultimatum.  I sent a scathing six page letter full of hurt and anger.  He responded with, "I'm hurt by your words but I understand and I'll give you space," which sent us down separate rabbit holes. Broken hearts, we waited each other out, licking our wounds and becoming more and more distant. He worked longer and longer hours. I shut down - my blog, my friends, my life.  I spent every working moment filled with anxiety over Eric rejecting me for his job. Every moment that I didn't have to be at work, I would just lie in bed, full of depression for hurting him and not being a good enough wife.

Finally, a break through, a couple of days ago.  Eric reached out, asking questions, dipping his toe in my mood pool.  I responded with one line: "You chose work over me and that's all I know".  Then I wrote two more long emails; not as scathing or angry as the first but still filled with the pain I have been experiencing. 

The long story short is, I've been told it takes me three hours to tell a ten minute tale, Eric came home last night because he was not going to let our marriage end over my girl brain interpretation of his guy brain. He could also tell I've been in a really dark and devastating place lately.

Today we began "Lessons to be Learned", by Eric Michael.  I worked half a day and then met him at home.  He had a wooden spoon and the cheeseboard ready in our room.

"We are going back to the basics, Amy Lynn," he said, motioning for me to kneel on the bench at the end of our bed.  I leaned over the foot board and Eric placed the laptop in front of me with my second and third letter pulled up.

"You will never send me another email like this again," he said firmly, pulling my hair tight enough to get my attention while bringing my eyes in line with the screen.  "I want you to read these letters out loud to me and I will let you feel how your words affect me with this wooden paddle."

"Oh shit."

I think I actually said that.

You want lessons learned? Okay. First off, I use way too many words just to get a point across.  Second, what sounds good to hands on a keyboard with my HOH on the other side of the world, does not sound the same with a paddle on my bottom and my HOH in our room.  I don't know how many times I got spanked with that thing but I do know it was well before the halfway point that I was seriously regretting writing those emails.

When he finally finished, Eric ordered me into the closet, "like old times," and had me hold onto the clothes rack overhead.

"When you are hurt or something is bothering you," he said in between smacking my behind with a thick wooden spoon, "you will ask the question and we will have the discussion."

Then he was back to the cheeseboard.

"You're getting twenty on each cheek and you're not going to move or I'm starting over and when this is done, you will promise never to send me another email like that again".

Trust me, I promised.  And I held onto that clothes rack and did everything I could to keep from moving.  Granted, I am a big wimp at times but mission accomplished. Eric has reddened my ass, cleared my head, eased my mind, and refilled my heart.

So, we have a few more days together before Eric is gone again.  We have put some different things in play to try and get me on solid ground while he's away.  I'm to set up routines that no matter what I am feeling, I will do in order to establish some baselines and keep me from hiding in bed.  On the list is blogging; no cutting out a world that truly matters to me and is very therapeutic.  I am to go to the gym a minimum of four days a week. I am to quit viewing Eric's job as competition but focus on the fabulous things we share. (No more pouting about the time we have apart.)  And, I am never ever ever allowed to write another hurtful scathing email so long as we both shall live.

I will say, from a position of standing rather than comfortably sitting, that Eric is a fair and reasonable man as well.  He also has a list of things he'll do to try and make the next few months more manageable.  I feel so special and sexy and loved when he pays attention to me but when he slips into work mode, I feel rejected and left out.  So, when Eric is in work mode, he will let me know he's going to be head down, butt up on a project for a few days and that he LOVES me. Then we'll do our own thing rather than me reaching out or feeling rejected until he can be back in my line of sight.  I get it.  He's got a very intense job and even at home there are times when it is all he can think about. 

Next, Eric is going to give me things to look forward to and anticipate, like getting a hotel room at our favorite place on his first night back home. On the other hand, he's going to avoid having me wait for him to do something. We realized that when he says, "I'll try to call you in the next day or so," I just crawl into bed and wait until he finally gets back to me, and that could be days later! However, if he says, "I'll call you on Thursday," then I  keep chugging along while the time passes before we connect again. I know Eric worries about letting me down if something we have planned gets delayed but I don't think he ever knew I hibernated when he'd give a vague sense of time, literally staying in bed until he reached out again. Its much better to have me on the go until such and such date or time. I can deal with life stepping in and unexpected delays way better than waiting in a frozen state.

We both agreed to keep talking no matter how bad things get and to love each other forever.  I know those should be "given" but sometimes "given" gets called into question unless the "I love you" words are repeated over and over again.

Speaking of over and over again, apparently I will be over Eric's knee over and over again until he's convinced these lessons to be learned take hold.  Like I said, he's back overseas on Saturday and I'm doing my best not to dwell on the short time I get to have with him now, but instead enjoy that he took the time to come home and work on getting me/us right again.

That's the update. Thank you to those who reached out and hopefully we can all derive some tips on how to get through life's tougher times by listening to each other.