Archive for February, 2007

A Kiss, of a kind

Sunday, February 25th, 2007

Kiss of a kind;  copyright 2/07,

patty

How many times

Do you have to be told?

It just is not wise

To sass him so bold

Be it his cane

That gets used on your tail

Or an old well used strop

Your bottom cheeks flail

Now look at you there

Sad hands gripping your rear

You got those stripes fair

And earned every tear

Stand yourself up

Turn sweet into his arms

Count all your blessings

He’s not fooled by your charms

When he said I do

You’d dreamed if he could

Then you tested and asked

And found out that he would

Now that he does

You really should blink

Back those saucy retorts

Or he may will you to think

With leather or wood

Applied firmly with care

His love and attention

Make you tender there

As often as needed

That he’s come to see

It is by your design

That his stern sets you free

A sensual turn

This interlude’s goal

The sharing of needs

Banks intimacies shoal.

 

 

 

What she needs…..

Wednesday, February 21st, 2007

There once was a very bad girl,

Whose snootiness made men’s hair curl.

She would not be good,

And haughty she stood.

Till her bottom upturned in a whirl

A frustrated gent did the deed.

Yanked panties and needy cheeks freed.

He applied his hand,

As hot as a brand,

Teaching her the “poor bottom” creed.

To the corner she went with a pout.

Though it did take a threat and a shout.

To make her stay there,

With red bottom bare,

More spanking would straighten her out.

 Some time to reflect was required.

Then back OTK she was squired.

A hair brush was used,

And more than fleshed bruised.

Fluffed egos are best when retired.

Did the spanking work for her you ask?

Did she get it when taken to task?

The answer is probably not.

For a brat will cling to her snot,

Needing spanking is often the mask.

There once was a bad girl in need.

Of the chance to get secret needs freed,

To get herself spanked,

Her desires and wants yanked,

Every chain an insatiable need.

Deep down in her secret self space,

Inhibitions protected her face.

The spankings she craved,

Fought, beat them and waived,

The shame that might keep her from grace.

There once was a very bad brat,

Who was handled with brut and the swat.

Her bottom made red,

As her fantasies said,

It is best when her attitude’s caught.

This is a spanking post, as promised.  Slowly but surely I’m shaking off this bug.  My energy is better and the episodic fever sweats have gone away after every dose of tylenol I take, even if I don’t yet sound better and am coughing, leaking and using up tissues. 

The new VP of Quality is here with me all day tomorrow.  The fine tooth comb now goes over every detail of the action plan and corrective actions initiated that I submitted on the 11th.  It’s crunch time.  One of many crunches I face every year.  My insecurities are rampant… grrrr

An uplifting song & slide show

Tuesday, February 20th, 2007

While I’m not normally a fan of “pop” music, the song that makes the background for this collection of popular web images is one that always makes me feel better any time I hear it.  A few of the images were new to me also though many are the kind that just make your jaw open and your voice go “awwwwww how sweet!”

It’s another power point slide show.  I hope it will play for all of you, this one I didn’t alter, so hopefully it’s more basic set up friendly. 

For Itch & Doc Tsai two friends that this made me think of today, and for all of you just because most of you always make me smile.

The simplest of things

Can make us stop and think

But every now and then

Tests take us to the brink

The strength you’ve given me

I offer back to you 

It’s held me in good stead

Because your hearts are true

love patty

p.s.  ok I promise next post will really be about spankin.  Wish me luck tomorrow & Thursday.   

 

 

Argh & whhhhhhhh

Monday, February 19th, 2007

The leaking continues, actually it got worse just before noon, then I called pharmacy and asked if there was something I could have that could stop my coulgh, and snot.  The Director laughed at me and told me to come on over.  He made me a care package of decongestant mixed with non-drowsy antihistamine, fever & aches & pains reducer and sore throat lozenges.  LOLOLOL He even patted me on the head and said I should go to bed and if I did he’d tuck in the covers for me.  Bed, though tempting, was just not an option today.  Though tonight as I’m feeling breathless and a little paniced not being able to get a full breath I wonder if tomorrow’s not going to either vastly improve things or force them to where the choice is out of my hands.  The ED medical Director got mad at me and told me he’d order me admitted if I didn’t go home, then he sighed with me when I laid out this week’s obligations.  I promised to see him first thing every morning this week so he could check my breathing and fever.  That got him to agree & trust me, that I’m not being an idiot. Still, I’m working on the trembling agitation born of decongestants and worry… LOLOLOL!  

My presentation tonight was just aweful.  Not only had I poorly timed medicating myself so that the Advil was peaking causing me to sweat out my fever and soak my silk blouse (not just pitts either, my back and front were soaked), and the decongestant had maxed out its anxiety skin crawly nervous energy effect but not yet stopped mucous production, (so I was sneezing, coughing and my nose was running right when I was in the most glib, who-gives-a-shit, hyper and mouthy weird space.  I think the general word for it is mental fog, but ya know, fog may be how it seems outside the experience, but vivid and out of control is how it feels in the middle of it.  I fucked up royally!   And I really mean royally!

I’m usually such a good presenter too.  Being left hanging with no administrative back up on a couple of contentious issues way outside my control didn’t help, but lordy I usually have a much better feel for when to shut up.  Yup I said the unsayable. 

When I got home I was strung out, as usual, with worry and insecurity. I really needed an ear and was feeling so ready to cry out and ask for solace from at least one of the ears I count on.  Then I got an e-mail that put me back on center.  How easy it is to get wrapped up in ME, ME, ME.  GD! The slap in my face truth is, I’m not the center of the universe, not even my own.  I don’t have a monopoly on stress.  How can I be so effing needy without even asking about others?  OK so I get a break when they don’t tell me and I can’t know, but darn!  I have some work to do fixing my outlook.

Our challenges really are that, when we’re privileged to get them presented to us that way.  Challenges.   Virtually always we’ve got the skills, power and opportunity to answer them when we’re given the luxury of being told they’re there.  Sometimes all chances get taken away before any chances are allowed - a heart attack takes a young man with no warning he even had risk factors never mind disease; a 17 yearold takes out a family driving his father’s car after the first time he’s ever even tasted never mind consumed too much beer.  Why some people get chances and others face instant - final consequences is going to remain a mystery I’ll wonder about for all of my life.

Stop and say a short prayer (if you’re inclined to pray) for everyone you know and don’t know who’ve been hit hard, head on, stressed beyond tolerence, with a sudden consequence.  Pray they see beyond the stress of right now and recognize opportunity and the grace of being given the chance to know it.

I present my current leaky state as a bit of a humorous aside, but it’s not really a funny post.  Wake up patty.  I think I get it.

The evil flu

Sunday, February 18th, 2007

Hi folks,

Just a short note while I surface from the fog breifly.  A cold put its dougges(douks … dukks ok so figting fists up)  up some time while I was working hard last week end.  I woke up knowing it Monday.  In fact my head hurt so much I asked to go home early and requested a personal day Tuesday.  I slept most of Tuesday.  I wasted Wednesday and went to work.  I barely remember being there actually.  Like a robot I got up and went in Thursday morning too, but by then I could harldly talk and was winded just trying to say hi.  I came home by noon and crawled in to bed where I’ve been until about an hour ago. 

I must say it is annoying when the sounds of your own breathing, which is much like the weird ghost whirring effects in a B movie, coupled with fits of coughing, are the only things that can keep you awake, and even though they’re pretty constant you can’t stay awake for more than an hour at a time… and especially disturbing when the only reason you even realized you have to pee is that you coughed and more than phlegm got loosened.

Well, It’s off to take a shower for me.  That and dispose of a hefty bag of tissues … um well, not really tissues, but a couple of rolls of triple cottonelle, hey what can I say, I was not up to shopping for kleenex & would have used paper towel if the TP hadn’t been there.  I’d like to know how it is that someone who has done little more than sleep for three and a half days can make enough … heck, why not just say it … snot … to give two rolls of toilet paper enough weight and substance to fill a kitchen garbage bag?

My sustenance these last few days has been two bottles of Minute Maid Active.  Each has 750 mg of glucosamine.  I picked them up on my Nyquil run Thursday.  Why that brand? Maybe because all my bones hurt, or maybe because they were bottled in a size I knew I could manage without the encumberence of cups?  The juice, especially the fact that by this morning it’s all gone, and I’m reverted to cranberry coctail explains why my cough and snot has been so … ummm … productive … I’m guessing the fact that I can’t quite cough out 99% of what my lungs are producing explains the other.  Never mind… if you don’t get it, my utility company certainly does…

I just realized somthing as I toddered back from my bathroom to this sofa and started this post.  Other than a couple of rarely worn silk suites, I have no clean clothes, and absolutely no ambition to do laundry.  What does that mean?  Hmmmm?  Will I or will I not go ‘commando’ to work tomorrow, or will I end up digging into the slinky playtime stuff just for coverage?  Of course I have a bunch of runny panty hose I could cut the legs off and use for panties until I can hit walmart after work tomorrow.  Thing is, I’m on the agenda to present to the executive committee tomorrow night, so shopping tomorrow’s gonna be iffy.

Sigh.  The dilema of the working woman.  I’m still coughing…  Seriously!  If anyone knows where that frustrating squirt comes from, even after you’ve completely emptied your bladder… I mean seriously, leaned over squeezed bared down for all your worth and shaken out every possible last drip, and still as soon as you wipe, tidy up and go back out to the sofa, not even a minute later, one cough fit (or under better circumastances a laugh) there it is!  Where does it come from?  OK, so I know where, but what is it?  Arrgghh! 

If it was an ordinary lazy gal day, commando might be an option, but given my current leaky plight, snot, phlegm, and what not, I sincerely doubt commando is a wise choice for me tomorrow….  especially given that a dark coral silk pant suit is my only real option until I can get some laundry done.  It’s too cool out for the dress or skirt suits I have and all my cold clothes are in a heap waiting to go in the wash. 

I’m gonna need something to secure a pantie liner, so, wether I yank out some very expensive very under used sexy drawers or I hack up some well used panty hose….  I ask you gals… which would you pick? It’s a Monday, workday, you just need a brigde until you have some time and energy.  Use the sexy specials or make do?

And to all you complacent healthy men out there I want you to think about this, just for a second or two, the next time you see a healthy, well kept woman your age or even much younger, dressed in a fine silk outfit. Should you happen to see her sneeze, or cover her face trying to frantically clear a persistent cough.  What’s keeping that dreaded wet stain from appearing along that seam between her but cheeks? 

lololol.

I’m whipped.  gotta go to bed.  Hope the weather gives everyobne a break, and the coming spring makes everyone smile.

Mutuality

Sunday, February 11th, 2007

I tried posting a valentine thingy that I got the idea from SuZQ for.  Trouble is there’s no wordpress option, and trying the others messed up my whole template… OK so I can’t share what kind of lover I am.. LOLOL  I was OK with who I came out as.  LOLOLOL if only! 

Well I’ve worked my ass off all weekend.  Got home well after 9 Friday night, went back in at 9 Saturday & left well after 8P.  Got up today at 9, went in before 10A & finally finished at about 2:30 PM today.  Gotta get up early to make sure everything gets off for delivery before 10AM Tuesday.

I was going to try to draw this afternoon, but my body and coordination are not cooperating.  Nothing I do is right these days. Which worries me some because I’ve ripped up so many drawings in the last few weeks. 

I know, transitions are normal.  All of us have to adapt to them.  Writing seems easier and more enticing now.  Maybe it’s the hours spent digging up old journals and letters.  I’m glad I did that, even if it has left me feeling raw and vulnerable.  It’s also helped me touch somethings that are key and essential to me.

Here’s a little snippet.  We’d had a huge fight after I redecorated the bedroom & spent almost a thousand dollars to surprise him… NOT a wise move.  A year later, about a month before we expected company, I posed the possibility of re-doing the spare room.  He really had no interest at all, but when presented with the budget, resisted.  I pushed, he put me off, I asked why, he admitted he didn’t have any objection but wanted to think it over…. and so you have this….. 

Mutuality

copyright 2007, by patty

“Come in here now!”

Surprise and the stern tone of voice made Sheila startle, her groin clench and her head move to tip her chin up in the direction of the patio door in the same split second.

“What?” her voice squeaked before she even saw Eamon standing in the doorway grim look in his eye, and a firm hand tapping a blue stained paint stirrer against his thigh — the sight of him with the realization of his intent, sent surges of anxiety and electric anticipation through her body in rapid pulsing waves. The red hot unpleasant pins and needles that shot into her gloved hands literally blasted the trowel she’d been using into a clattering arch against the brick wall behind the garden.

“You heard me!” Eamon’s expression was implacable.

“Now?” she slumped, directing her distracted worry away from the sight of him, looking at the tray of delicate sprouts of chamomile flowers she was in the midst of planting. “The sun’s moved.”

The odd explanation his wife gave him coupled with the endearing puzzled look and hand gesture toward her vulnerable flowers made Eamon smile.

“Put the tray in the garage. You can finish tomorrow. The sprinklers will take care of those,” he pointed to the cluster bank of sprigs already planted.

“Why are you mad?” Sheila shifted to get up off her knees. Arguing with Eamon when the intent he telegraphed so effectively was in the mix was something she’d tried hard to stop doing. She wanted to be held accountable, she wanted to be spanked, she told him so, yet when faced with it, she balked. Facing her own wish that the choice to spank was his, and trusting him to explain why when he was ready, was a struggle she sometimes didn’t think she was going to get past.

“Put away what you’re doing and come inside,” Eamon growled, frowned and closed the patio door on further discussion.

Tear stung her eyes, but Sheila obeyed. She stood, moved the remaining flat of chamomile sprigs into the safe shade of the garage, and used some deep breaths, a few held long, to steady herself for what she faced inside.

Eamon was already in the bedroom, and he was still whapping his thigh with the paint stick. Sheila came in quietly.

“What did I do?” she whispered.

Eamon turned to face her. There was a twinkle in his eye, and Sheila now saw what surprise and her husband’s diabolical skill with dominance made invisible. His cock was rock hard and practically bursting his jeans.

“Get your pant’s down! Your ass is mine!”

Anticipation was still a little behind apprehension, but a sigh, relief and his smile worked fast to help Sheila change gears. That transient time interval typically deemed ‘reticence’ was occupied now by the time necessary for a sensual transition rather than adaptation to fear or regret.

Sheila blushed. “You’re mean,” she whispered.

“You’re mine!” Eamon growled. “Do you want to make things worse?”

“Could I?” she smiled stepping carefully closer to him.

“Yes!” his tone was a serious warning. “Get those pants down!”

“Oh!” Sheila’s blush deepened and her whole body trembled with the command. Her hands moved to the snap and zipper of her shorts. She wanted to comply, but surprise, desire and just a bit of lingering anxiety made her fingers feel thick after suffering several dozen zaps of anxiety laden prickling pins and needles.

Eamon saw her hands tremble trying to comply, and decided to add to the energy of the moment by grabbing the waist of her shorts and pulling her roughly to him. “Get over here now!”

Sheila wasn’t able to suppress the yelp that escaped when she found herself lifted and heaved across the room and over to the bed bodily, in literally one swift heave by the front of her shorts. It hurt, and it was unexpected.

“OW! Honey! Hey!” came out of her mouth on take off, during flight and on landing, then her shorts and panties were down, and the only sound possible was an involuntary grunt when her abdomen fell across his thighs.

“You need a spanking and I need to give you one,” Eamon gripped Sheila’s properly placed butt cheeks. He squeezed gently and began a seductive massage.

It didn’t take Sheila long at all to get completely on his page. “Well, you know, it wasn’t on my mind for today, but now that you bring it up, my bum’s been kinda neglected for a while.”

“You’ve been bad too haven’t you brat?” Eamon chuckled.

“Very bad. Yessir,” Sheilas crooned.

“How bad?” A firm swat came down right over the central diamond of bottom thighs and deeply protected pussy.

“I painted the spare room blue.” Sheila squirmed lifting her bottom for more.

“Yes you did. Did I say you could?” Another somewhat harder swat to the same place followed.

“Not exactly, but you didn’t say no either.”

“What did I say?” The next spank hurt a lot and Sheila bucked.

“We’ll talk about it on the weekend,” she wiggled, suddenly worried that she’d been conned and there was more on the table than fun.

“It looks good.” Eamon whapped even harder.

“Ow! Honey! Ow!” Sheila whimpered.

“Next time when we agree to talk about it again later what can I expect?” he let her have another ten very hard smacks.

“I’ll wait!” Sheila sobbed.

“Good girl.” Eamon stopped spanking to massage the hot red marks he’d applied to make his point. “Blue was the right choice. It looks better than I thought.”

“Thank you,” Sheila sniffed with relief, and rolled her hips to accommodate her husband’s kneading massage.

“Want a good spanking just because?” Eamon squeezed both of Sheila’s butt cheeks hard.

Sheila squirmed against his grip. “Make me come?”

“Do my best.”

“K”

Eamon picked up the blue stained paint lathe and applied it to his errant wife’s bare bottom. If there was one thing she was going to learn, it was that she would not make up her own mind to paint something they shared until they were finished agreeing together.

Sheila felt and accepted the firmer meaning behind the initial ten or twenty whaps, and quickly embraced the sweeter meaning as her bottom and pussy both warmed and adapted. Eamon always trusted her taste, he just needed time to think over change. At least this time she’d given him the courtesy of discussion before springing change on him. Last time when she’d acted impulsively with no discussion at all, they’d had a knock down drag out fight and a spanking that was made of pure anger. This time that old mistake was brought back, but respect ruled.

Sting and pain mixed with heat and need. Eamon’s firm uncompromising hand, kissed every crevice of Sheila’s secret needs, and her compliant responsiveness kissed his. When Sheila’s pussy succumbed to her spanking and convulsed in spasms harder than the slaps of the lathe, and her whimpers told Eamon she was properly spanked, he pushed her up on the bed, and mounted her from behind. He fucked her fast and spanked her harder.

The ecstasy of climax reinforced for both of them that talking things over was a good thing, whether that was how they should decorate their home, or how they should deal with each other’s needs, desires and fantasies.

just because

Thursday, February 8th, 2007

I’m overwhelmed at work … very seriously overwhelmed.  Three nights in a row getting away after 9P and a very huge project due tomorrow, that is soooo far from complete I’m stressed to the point of contemplating Xanax and Ambien tonight.  It will get done, I know it will, but the demoralizing stress of having had to beat people who made me promises two months ago and only yesterday came to confess to my face to say they hadn’t started.  I should have been on them, I should have known, I should have discovered long ago that they weren’t doing what they wrote in their action plans that they planned to do.  I didn’t.  They’re just now discovering they’re deficient and tomorrow is the deadline to show progress.  Has prgress benn made?  Thank goodness for the dedication and conscientiousness of the front line folks.  Yes.  It has… at least in most areas, and all it took was a simple remider.

The wonderous thing my job helps me see, is just how dedicated and conscientious the front line staff in my world are.   These folks deal with so much hate, so much second guessing and so much direct immediate abuse.  None of you could cope with it.  Not one of you.   They deal with so much venom, so many complaints, so little appreciation, yet even in the midst of being berated as dickheads because with near lethal ethanol levels they can’t medicate for chest pain beyond nitroglycerin they take a beligerant drunk to the cath lab and rescued him from permanent cardiac damage. 

They work short almost all the time.  They really do care and empathize with their patients, some empathize too much, and when faced with trying to do the impossible they end up crushed. I’m feeling crushed.  The culture that used to strengthen nurses is killing them now.  Patients and doctors are to blame.  Both groups need to look at who they are blaming and crushing  BOTH.  Slicing costs, crushing judgment…  Some one has to have time to give a bath OK.  There are just so many minutes and second in a day…   The best part of my day was when I could shave a man, bathe with a good vigorous scrub and back rub any patient not to metion make sure they got leg and arm stretches after surgery, my favorite thing was a good mouth scrub with a toothette full of gingerale, ice and mouth wash.  I know my peers would like to be able to do this now too and I’d give anything if they were allowed to.  We’ve forced them to nurse the keyboard, forced them to stay there and now expect them to do the impossible. 

 What doesn’t get documented didn’t get done.  This is so far from the truth!

Do you have any idea how often the ER & nursing staff who strive to give you care are faced with helpless choices and how often they go home living with fear of what they couldn’t do for you? There aren’t enough nurses.  Those who remain with you out there suffer extreme abuse on all sides.  Your doctors berate them, you berate them.  If you don’t wake up, you’re going to loose them. SERIOUSLY!!!!!!  They/we have healthier choices.  

**************** 

Another topic just as intense…

I had healthier choices I could have made sharing my life with Fred too, and frankly, I made the choices I did for very human, insecure and real reasons. I’m so tired of the second guessing, so lonely trying to explain why and how desperate and alone I felt when I first ventured out and then trapped myself in lies upon lies.  I gave, and ALL of you know that I gave everyone 1,000 times more than I took.   What I’ve written and drawn and given you for free since 2001 is real, and exceeds what99.9% of other artists & writers would give for free.  I needed you.  I made you think, I made all of you laugh, I opened your eyes to insights you resisted; I engaged and really shared deep insights with everyone who asked.  I lied about time, I gave everything else from deep deep secrets, insecurity and pain.  I hurt myself more than I ever hurt another living soul.  No more blaming me for crap that I was a s much a pawn in creating as any victim was. 

Being a pawn is not something I’m proud to admit to.  Yep I set myself up to be a good pawn, but I’m no longer ashamed to admit that my weakness and neediness made me perfect for several people to use.  I was used by moderators on several forums, I was used by someone I considered my very best friend and I let myself be a voice to thoughts I personally didn’t have… so people who would lke me… Doing that, I ended up being guilty of being the one who was so hurtful of so many.  

I’ve owned all of my lies, all of my weaknesses, I’ve taken the fall for a lot of shit that I really was not responsible for, though I certainly stuck my idiot foot and surrogate big mouth in.  Not everything I’m blamed for had anything to do with me, my heart or my intent OK.  I justified too many things based on needing friends… and everyone of those “friends’ who held me hostage for those kind of mouthy favors is now gone.  Everyone has written me off.  They loved me once, thought the world of my heart and now, no matter what I gave them, insights. laughter worthy stuff to read, I’m no longer worthy….  Talk about lonely!  LOLOL.  I’m mostly over it actually.  But I am still hurt by the handful of those I really care about who lurk here regularly and leave me hanging wondering why.

I owe this to Alan.  He was there in the background for and with me.  He wanted me to be me.

Oh my!

Tuesday, February 6th, 2007

A wonderful sweet generative friend of mine passed away at his computer on Sunday.  I had every peice of his artwork saved once, and he was among the very first to ever share his art with me.  Veralsi was 1st.  Then thanks to me he found a forum called LWD and he embraced and loved them with all his heart.  He gave me so much especially love no matter how selfish I had a bent to be. 

I’m so very sad.  I don’t even have a Scottybot image to place here. 

Please, say a prayer for his wife and his children.

Alan, I loved you…. you were there for me when so many couldn’t be.  Your quiet understanding was a beckon… may you now enjoy the lighted path you once wished for me.  I so miss you.

love p.

Alan (Scottybot) I love you. 

a ditty for last weekend

Tuesday, February 6th, 2007

“Me, me, me, look at me,” said she.When her man hunkered down to see TV

“A football game, how could that be,

As good as a cuddle

With clothes a muddle?”

“Take care, beware, be warned,” said he.

“I want your mind here with me now

To play my tiller to your plow”

Her pout was bold and threatened row.

“Don’t you dare behave the brat

I’ll play your ass with paddle flat

Your well burned bottom, furrowed brow!”

With that her grin became so bad

That was of course the plan she had

“You’d spank me sir? You are a cad!”

“You’re asking for a blistered ass

If you don’t curb this wanton sass.”

“Oh thank you sir! Now I’m not sad!”

Me, me, me, me, please be with me

Cast off grunts and farts TV

Football’s fun but you might see

TiVO as a Sunday treat

If your cock’s been triple beat

An answer that gives us both glee

Doncha think?

Grunt, belch, fart and strut day…

Sunday, February 4th, 2007

I’ve laughed hysterically at the AFV & You tube samples of arm chair querterbacks and pig skin loving couch potatoes. I probably will continue too.  Perhaps I need to be spanked?

As a kid the only thing I remember as a child was that football was beyond boring, and the fact that it took up entire chunks of days on TV was just the pitts… of course it was Canadian Football, and perhaps there in lies the secret of the total tetium and aversion I acquired…  

Now that I own the remote I can smile.  I can chuckle at work the next day as rivals continue to belch fart and posture…. 

I surfed on line today, intended to write & draw, but never got a chance.  I searched You tube on AFV’s dog collar testing and got a triple chuckle watching the guy who tested all six pain levels of a bark training collar.  LMAO!  Now just why did that fit so perfectly in to a day of farting belching football going on beyond the walls of my world? 

I will draw & post something new shortly & I have been writing, I just never mananged to get anything useful done today besides silly giggly stuff…. 

Here’s an old story some of you have already read… on topic any way..

Watching the Game

copyright 2004, patty

Both Eamon and Sheila were in a lazy mood and the weather outside was completely cooperative. Wind and drizzle made all but indoor activities attractive, and the busy week made quiet time appealing.

Sheila wanted to spend the afternoon relaxing with Eamon, but he wanted to watch a series of football games. Unfortunately that was an activity that was as close to Chinese water torture as Sheila could imagine. She tried negotiating for a movie and a game, but when Eamon held his ground that he wanted to see both games, Sheila sighed and gave up.

“You’re mean sometimes you know?” she pouted when it became clear he wasn’t going to give.

“Cut it out Sheila. I almost never want to do something like this. You get your way most of the time, today it’s my turn,” Eamon didn’t just make his case with a ‘play fair’ card he issued a warning with the tone of his voice. Sheila was no idiot she got the message and backed off.

Eamon was sweet though, when it came time for the first game to start, he made a tray with his tortilla chips, salsa and beer and carried it into the bedroom. For a while Sheila stayed in the family room doing her thing. Activity on the forum was very slow, and none of the afternoon movies appealed to her.

“What a crummy day!” she muttered to herself.

Frustrated and bored, Sheila got up and went to the bathroom. Coming out of there, she complained to Eamon that she had nothing to do.

“Write something or draw then,” he suggested.

“I don’t feel like it,” she pouted.

“Then come in here and join me,” he patted the mattress next to him.

“I hate football Eamon!” Sheila whined.

Eamon growled and gave her a warning look. “You’re not getting your way Sheila, I’m watching the game.”

“All I want is to spend time with you, and you won’t even do that.” Sheila knew Eamon did not respond well to whining, so she changed the tone of her voice to irritation.

He wasn’t having any of it.

“Cut it out!” he warned again. “You can come in here and watch the game with me or go do something else. Those are your choices.”

“There’s nothing else to do!” she grumbled and left him alone.

Back in the family room Sheila flipped through the channels again and quickly gave that up in frustration. Not even one post had appeared on the forum in three solid hours. “Damn it!” Sheila kicked the pillow at the foot of the sofa. She tried surfing to the reading sites, but couldn’t get her mind into reading spanking stories. She’d rather be living a spanking story, but Eamon wasn’t being very cooperative.

“I could piss him off,” she grumbled. Yes she could, but then she’d end up spanked, have an angry husband, and still have nothing to do. She’d really rather just have what she wanted, and that was quiet cuddle time with her husband. Finally she sighed, and folded up the laptop and carried it into the bedroom.

“Going to join me after all are you?” Eamon shifted over to make room for her beside him on the bed.

“May as well be bored in here as out there,” she complained.

Eamon turned his attention back to the TV, absently lifting his arm, then holding a pillow, until Sheila got situated up against his right side with the computer resting on a pillow on her lap. She tried engaging him in conversation, but she couldn’t get him to stay with her. The game was well underway, and he was engaged in it all the way.

Surprisingly, Sheila found it a little easier to concentrate on reading now that she was cuddled up against Eamon. She didn’t have his attention, but she did have his company. Now and then he’d load a chip with salsa give her a bite, and then finish it himself. They weren’t engaged in the same activity, but they were together and Sheila wasn’t as bored.

Her butt got tired after about half an hour though, and she had to rearrange herself. She put the laptop and pillow on the mattress and her knees up under Eamon’s arm and lay down on her stomach propped up on her elbows. When a commercial came on, she pestered Eamon by putting her feet in his face, he responded by kneading and smacking her ass.

“I have an idea,” he chuckled.

Sheila turned to look up as Eamon shifted up and back propping pillows behind him. Once he got where he wanted to be, he patted the mattress with his left hand.

“Put the computer here.”

“No Eamon, then you have both the TV and the computer!” Sheila misunderstood his plan.

“Put your bottom right here,” he patted his right thigh ignoring Sheila’s objection.

Sheila caught on immediately, and smiled. “K.”

“Hurry up before the game starts again,” Eamon instructed when she puttered up on her knees blocking his view of the TV too long.

When Sheila settled down across his thighs with a pillow under her chest, and the laptop in front of her, he put his hands down on her bottom and squeezed. “Take these down,” he tugged up on the waistband of her jeans.

Sheila smiled, and obliged, wiggling a bit to get her jeans down far enough. “Panties too?” she asked.

“This is good for now. Quiet, the game’s back on,” Sheila sighed as she saw his eyes glass over and fix on the TV. She wiggled some more to get comfortable, and started to read a new spanking story. At least she was comfy.

Eamon absently stroked her bum while he focused on the game. Both of them departed mentally into their parallel activities, connected only by distracted movements of his hand, or her bottom.

The story Sheila was reading was a good one. It was heavier on discipline than sex, but mind candy enough that she clenched and wiggled her bottom periodically as she read. Eamon answered her movements with equally random squeezes of her cheeks. More to acknowledge she was there than to engage with her movements.

“Ow!” Sheila yelped when Eamon announced a commercial with a solid spank.

“That was for being such a pain in the ass earlier,” he chuckled.

“You’re watching the game aren’t you?” Sheila grumbled and pretended to go back to reading. The petulant wiggle of her bottom betrayed her distraction.

“Well, now that you’re here where you belong, I’m going to deal with your whining from before,” Eamon announced as his hand came down in a series of moderate spanks. They stung, but they felt good too.

“Ow!” she complained and lifted her bottom against his hand when he stopped spanking to rub. “That hurts.”

“There’s that whining again,” Eamon started spanking again, this time a little harder.

Sheila dropped her head onto the mattress between her elbows, and closed her eyes. The sting of the spanking was just edgy enough that she had to steel herself for it, but she didn’t want it to stop. Soon her flesh warmed to it, and Sheila could relax. Eamon kept it up until the commercial was over.

Commercials were amazingly long! Sheila remarked to herself as she shifted her pelvis and bounced her cheeks to ease the lingering burn. Eamon kneaded and rubbed her bottom, and disappeared into the game. Sheila returned to the story. Her bottom was a perfect degree of warm to make reading spanking stories delicious. The next commercial brought another spanking, making the next story Sheila started reading even more appealing.

At half time, Eamon devoted a lot more attention to his wife.

“Lift up,” he smacked her. Sheila obediently lifted her hips and Eamon shimmied her panties down to her knees. “Now we’ll get some real work done here.”

Sheila clenched and relaxed her bare bottom. The activity during the commercials and the subject matter of the stories she was reading warmed her up for sturdy spanking play nicely. “You think you can make me behave?” she teased.

“I think so,” Eamon spanked her right cheek hard.

Sheila winced, and then retorted. “You’re paying attention to me aren’t you?”

“So you think you’re smart do you?” Eamon laid in hard for a good thirty or forty spanks.

It hurt more than Sheila would have liked, but she was also ready to play. “Yes I do.”

Eamon chuckled, and got busy showing Sheila just how smart she was. It was a thorough and sound spanking, but darn it! Sheila grimaced when the game started up again. Half time is just not long enough.

Her bottom was very hot now though, and the next spanking story was even better reading. The commercials during the second half of the game helped keep her bottom the right temperature and by the time the 1st game was over Sheila managed to catch up on four full updates on the woodshed.

They both needed to tend to comfort details between the first and second game. When they were done, Sheila eagerly returned to her position across Eamon’s lap, puffed up the pillow under her chest, and wiggled her bottom happily. Eamon grinned and patted her cheeks making her flesh bounce.

“All set?” he asked.

“Yes thank you,” Sheila smiled up at him with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Good,” Eamon renewed the heat in her bottom while the announcers set the stage for the game that was about to get underway. He had time to warm some other parts too before the action on the field started.

The game occupied his mind, but Sheila’s warm bottom occupied both of Eamon’s hands. The players ran patterns and plays, and Eamon watched them. Sheila read and crooned, and Eamon’s hands kneaded and rubbed her bottom.

The spankings during the second game were much more vigorous and spicy than they were during the first. Halftime was exactly the right length this time, and ended with Sheila bucking to the spasms of a spanking induced climax. Eamon patted and rubbed her more intently when the game resumed. He was a little more distracted than he had been earlier, but he did manage to re-engage with the game.

Sheila relaxed and enjoyed the aftermath of the halftime spanking, ready for the next commercial. She wasn’t able to focus on another story for the moment. During the next commercial, her fingers wandered down between her legs as Eamon warmed her bottom back up. That repeated during the next commercial and the next, and then for some reason, Eamon forgot about the game. When Sheila climaxed again, the last quarter was just starting.

Properly and thoroughly spanked for trying to make Eamon be with her, Sheila shifted herself lengthwise and scooted down on Eamon’s legs so he couldn’t reach her bottom any more. This time it was her turn to attend to his pleasure. She pulled his fly open and fished into his pants for the part of him that was very impatient for the game to end so it could come out.

Eamon objected briefly and tried to keep his mind on the last of the game, but Sheila’s tongue and lips on his penis said things he couldn’t ignore. Sheila didn’t know that Eamon’s eyes had closed. She was too busy to notice that she’d finally managed to get his undivided attention. Both of them lost track of time until Sheila’s ministrations brought Eamon close to crisis.

“Come here brat!” he sat forward and lifted her under her armpits. Sheila looked up and willingly let him lift her up so that he could finish ‘the way God intended.” Mounting him, she rocked vigorously on him until Eamon’s face contorted and he thrust up hard with his climax. Sheila pushed down and ground against him feeling the spasms of his climax like twitches under her.

When he opened his eyes, she grinned with a wicked twinkle. “You missed the end of the game honey.” Eamon smiled back.

“And for that you will be severely punished.”

….  it’s on topic any way…

 

Sweet things..

Saturday, February 3rd, 2007

This lovely diversion came from Paul in e-mail earlier this week.  If you don’t have powerpoint just choose open when the link asks you, & let my server play it for you.  Click the screen to transition the slides. Oh and having your sound on makes the experience even sweeter…  enjoy   (specially for SuZQ)

I made a few additions to the show… [edit 8PM feb 3… I made more edits to the show… hope it’s ok….]

edit again… after the first page appears, if you don’t have powerpoint loaded please DO NOT save the file to yor computer, just open it.  Saving it will cause your comuter to ask you what file to use to open it.  If that happens you’ll never be able to open it… it only asks when there’s nothing it recognizes.  Firefox is not even letting the 1st slide show.  If you wanna asee the show use eiher IE or if you have it Safari 

If the first slide doesn’t advance on it’s own after 60 seconds, click the double down arrows at the right bottom of the scroll bar.  After that, move your mouse to the middle of the screen, and when you’re ready, click any where on the screen for all the other slides as you want them to advance.   It’s saved & uploaded as a show & should not care what software you have.  I’ve got the requisite programs loaded to my server so you don’t need more.  Firefox is apparently not able to cope though… please try IE.  sorry.  dinb’t mean to make it hard…

again, if you don’t own powerpoint, or keynote (mac software) Do NOT save, just open this file…

 spank me maybe????

Thank you Paul

 

The Break 2

Thursday, February 1st, 2007

(Same story, just told from a slightly different POV… I had a bit of a cry and I pulled out my shoe boxes.  Stuff I found Fred’s journal entries along with a tattered “sorry mom” letter signed by two wonderful kids went into this revision…)

And I added a bit more of the spicier details for those of you that like that.  I had a really nice session over the ottoman tonight, so nice my bottom is throbbing and the rest of me is nice and relaxed.  I think I just might go round two before bed and add some time with my vibrator after I refresh the burn on my backside…. hope you like this version… ;)

An ordinary day ?

At least that’s how it began. Eamon was appreciative that his wife almost never failed to roll with him and open to his early morning impulses. They were both morning people when it came to sex. “God!” he smiled stretching in the shower. “There’s nothing finer than being blessed with willing cunt in the morning.” He was sated but even so, the healthy ministrations of his hand and the Ivory lathered loofa still managed a momentary rise. If the clock and responsibilities weren’t calling, he might have worked the twinge a little harder to see if he had an athletic round two in him. “God willing,” he closed his eyes thinking … tonight was out there.

His day went predictably for the week before summer school. Finalizing lesson plans, running them by micromanaging superintendents, reviewing the transcripts for the special needs of the kids from the whole school district who were enrolled to make up his subject, meetings with parents and kids – all the usual goal setting. It had lost the appeal it once held for him, though he gave it his all. He was grateful this was his last summer school. Not that teaching had been difficult. It had certainly been, and still was rewarding, but the prospect of entering law enforcement excited him and refreshed his zeal for work.

Eamon’s day ended unexpectedly early. A novelty he wouldn’t get to enjoy again for 11 weeks once classes began Monday. When he got home to an empty house he wasn’t surprised, though his libido had to table the germ of a plan it was hatching. Summer vacation was almost a week in, and it was common for Sheila to have the kids out and about. He changed clothes freshened up and started a nice supper; barbeque lamb, rice, and Sheila’s favorite oriental greens salad with blue cheese.

When Sheila slammed into the house through the laundry room in a pre-occupied cursing fury, Eamon was startled. Clearly her day had not gone well.

She was less than forthcoming about what was up. Her signals were familiar; too familiar. He could interrogate and get immediate answers, escalate her mood, and deal with a hellcat of a wife who’d had a hell of a day, or he could try to let her gentle down and tell him in her own way.

The deciding factor was a haunted look of abject fatigue that flashed across her eyes when he caught her chin and kissed her hello before she could brush him off and push through to the bedroom.

He already knew how yesterday went with the kids. He had an idea that today hadn’t been much better. Turning around from nightshift to day life had always been hard for Sheila. Dealing with two very bright boys with unlimited energy and fuses that lit before 7AM, burned fast and hot, finding a thousand alternating, simultaneous more or less constant flares to set off, all day long required more than love and will. Eamon knew she’d been physically and emotionally out paced.

His wife was a loving, very sturdy parent so the fact that she’d come home alone, tossed a heavy bag of gear by the washer in a huff did raise eyebrows. Eamon let imaginary possibilities hover below the Plexiglas floor of adult reason.

“Where are the kids Sheila?” he intruded when she’d finally scrubbed the day’s stress & grub off her face and neck, hoping he could help her let go of hurdles and find a safe intelligent and secure place she could answer without smoke.

“Tell me honey,” Eamon wrapped his tense trembling wife into arms he hoped would help her feel reassured.

“Out!” She hissed. “I kicked them out of the car six miles ago, maybe eight. I didn’t see any space ships hovering, but if we’re lucky they’re abducted at least until Friday when you can be here with me to deal with their insanity.”

“Every thing was fine until Todd decided he’d rather have perch roll with potato salad rather than his usual blood dripping burger, with lettuce and pickles, but not until AFTER his burger was already served up to him in the only clean basket the girl had.

” ‘It’s a Brown basket! A Daddy’s basket!’ Todd just howled. ‘Daddy gets brown. Mine is red! I want perch! Brown gets perch with hash browns and Ketchup from the bottle! I want ketchup and perch!’ Bless his heart Chris stuck with his usual blue basket, but damned if he didn’t he make a stink about getting it with tan napkins, no fork and with coleslaw instead of curly fries.

“I placed exactly the orders we all agreed on, I swear honey,” Sheila sounded insecure.

“I believe you,” Eamon couldn’t help chuckle hearing the natural defensiveness creep into his wife’s voice.

Sheila let her mind float. “They were so good when we got to Blackbeard’s take out. Before I gave them change for the games I asked – Everyone wants their favorite or something else? When I got the typical pre-occupied, ‘money, already, gimme money, I’m not listening,’ bland pre-occupied, ‘Yeap silly, you know the rules Mom.’ I stupidly took them at their word. The worst thing I could have done, I know!

“I should have put my foot down grabbed and paid for what we got, brown basket, red basket, blue basket or green one, but instead I caved and re-ordered a Perch roll for Todd and curly fries for Chris. What happened? When the new order came all hell broke loose. Your oldest called the waitress a whore, Todd parroted him, and I could hardly manage an apology, so I hauled their butts out of there leaving twenty bucks behind. I was so mad Eamon. I could have cried but some one would have called the authorities on me. Useless mother alert!”

“Was it like that all day?” he pulled her tight, soothing her hair.

“No,” she sighed. “When we got started, we sang, we agreed on a great spot, put out the canopy, set up chairs, and ran the dogs ragged. Todd did a great job floating and they both knocked off well over 200 strokes each of side stroke, breast stroke, backstroke and free-stroke, they pranced around totally enthused when the noon tide surprised all of us, and we got over an hour of boogie boards and body surfing waves. They seized every great boogie wave we could catch. It was fun and peaceful, they were excited the coached each other, and other kids nearby. We had fun!

“Then Todd took the last good wave in as far as possible on his tummy, so he got some sand in his shorts. Chris rode his last ride standing, but his board crunched six feet short of Todd’s. I had to kick my board to pull Chris off Todd. The poor kid was having his victory ground in with a wedgie that was just wrong.” Sheila stopped recounting the day and just shook her head, feeling Eamon’s chuckle. “What is with you men that you learn so young to find that kind of humiliating torture funny? Chris and every other kid around was laughing hysterically, and poor Todd, he couldn’t help but cry, and they pounced! He won the distance on the last ride, and his jealous brother humiliated and took something so little away from him.” Sheila sobbed.

“So what did you do?” Eamon was genuinely interested now.

“I packed us up. I sent Todd back in the water to rinse his trunks, I put Chris to work packing up the boards, the cooler and the canopy. I shipped all the other kids off to their own folks and then I took Chris in the car and told him I thought he’d been a poor sport.”

“Anybody else hear you say that?”

“No,” Sheila whispered. “Not even Todd.”

“You did just fine honey,” Eamon reassured.

“Well you deal with them now. Just look at the car! If they ever come home, just look at their hair – their clothes! Hell Eamon, if my prayers aren’t answered and aliens don’t kidnap them, the coyote’s are probably going to sniff them out and maul them just to get the meal off their clothes. There’s no supper. They’re wearing it, and what they aren’t wearing is spackled and caked all over the back seats and windows. I’m done!”

“Go lie down OK. When they get in, and they will come home, I’ll get them cleaned up, send them in to make it up to you, and then you and I will have another visit with the paddle. OK?” Eamon hugged his wife again and nuzzled her ear.

“Not a bad girl though?” she worried, tipping her face up to search his expression.

“Stress relief. Hard enough and good enough, how’s that?” he cupped her chin and squeezed her lower lip with his thumb.

“Maybe,” Sheila wasn’t sure. He’d already spanked her last night.

“It will do all of us good. I’m looking forward to some nice hot ass tonight, and I think you need something firm to take the edge off. You’re running on raw nerves already and the summer’s hardly started. OK?” he smiled.

“OK,” she blushed. Truth be told her pussy was throbbing. She didn’t just need a spanking, she needed to have her bare backside paddled past the point of tears, and then she needed to be fucked even harder so she could sleep the sleep of the vindicated and the innocent.

No sooner did Sheila’s body ease down onto her bed, but the low rumble of voices wafted under the door and through the walls. Her errant children had come home after all; wisely passed over by intelligent aliens, and avoided by coyote’s with stronger instincts for self preservation than pangs of hunger. She knew she really needn’t have worried, but relief was one of the emotions that shivered through her. Six miles on the rural roads where they lived really was a safe and comparatively short hike even if it was a hot day.

Eamon couldn’t help laughing once he was alone to mull over Sheila’s version of her day. No matter what, he knew he was never going to be able to explain the innate competition that would compel an older brother to re-establish rank with a sand laden wedgie even if the younger sibling won fair and square. He loved her tender empathy for Todd’s plight, but even more, he was proud of her instincts not to belittle Christopher’s poor choice in front of his friends. She put her foot down this time, and he had to laugh at her method. He could just imagine the shocked look on the boys’ faces when she ousted them from the car on the shoulder of the road so far from home. It was hard for him to hold back a full blown belly laugh with the image.

His little men came home as he knew they would, in-spite of their mother’s irrational worries that they’d run away. Eamon did two things when they slunk into the kitchen, first he assured that they knew they were in for a reckoning for giving their mother a hard day and breaking half the rules in the book for acceptable behavior; then he commended them for their strength of character coming home to face the consequences.

“What do you think the proper outcome should be now?” Eamon asked his boys.

Christopher spoke up. “You should spank us.” Todd cried, but when asked if he agreed, he nodded.

“How about your mother?” Eamon coaxed.

“We better tell her we’re sorry,” both boys hiccupped through tears.

“Good, we’re agreed. Shower, change and come talk to Mom first, “Eamon dismissed his boys to their rooms.

**

Eamon served himself some of the supper he made while his wife snoozed and his children cleaned up.

The boys took their time making their way out of their rooms to face the music. They took turns in the shower, and dawdled for as long as they hoped would be allowable before coming back to the kitchen to face their father.

“What do you have to say?” Eamon faced them, his jaw set, and all of his insightful amusement and resolve melting pride properly caged behind a wall he’d had to learn to construct and invoke with difficulty over the years. Disciplining his children was a responsibility he accepted and respected, it was hard though. It tested his confidence and resolve and challenged his intense desire to do right by his family.

“We didn’t mean it,” Christopher spoke for the pair, Todd nodded.

“You told your mother you wanted your favorite, then bickered when you got what you asked for?”

“But she put mine in the wrong basket Dad?” Todd argued.

“Did you get what you wanted?”

“I guess,” he shrugged.

“Were you going to eat the basket too?”

“Dad!”

“I’m serious young man. You got your order right. How many times do you get your supper on the same color plate in this house?”

“Sometimes?”

“Always?”

“No.”

“Is the food wrong on a blue plate instead of a green plate?

“No.”

“Then why the tantrum in a restaurant when your mother was trying to give you a special day and a special treat?”

Todd shrugged. ” But…”

“No buts young man. You know the answer and it isn’t but.”

Eamon turned his attention to the oldest.

“Who took the longest wave in all the way?”

“Todd,” Chris barely whispered his response.

“Who?” Eamon growled.

“He did!” Christopher snapped.

“Yes he did! Only a poor sport does what you did.”

“But I came in on my feet!”

“Was that the goal ?”

“No, but I did it, and he didn’t!”

“Your seven year old brother took a wave farther up the beach than you. Last time I checked distance was the prize. At least in the game we’ve been playing until now. Did you win?”

“No.”

“Would you like it if I sanded your privates and made you cry in front of your friends because you won and I lost?”

“No.”

“Why did you do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do know.” Eamon’s tone was firm. Christopher nodded. Eamon didn’t push. He could see the shame in the silent admission, and he understood the instinct and the lesson that the boy had to internalize. No amount of lecturing or pain was going to make it real, only time, trust and success applying the lessons would make it real for him.

“Your mother’s worn out do you know that?”

Both boys nodded.

“She works hard looking after sick people all night. That makes her very tired staying up all day for a few days, right?”

“Yes,” two strained voices responded.

“What’s with both of you throwing food all over the car after Mom played with you all day and went out of her way to get you a treat for supper, paying double because one of you had a tantrum in public?”

“He pissed me off!” Todd stomped his foot and put both hands on his hips. Christopher wilted.

“You both crossed the line. What’s the solution?” Eamon’s tone was filled with warning.

“We’ll clean the car and tell mom we’re sorry?” Christopher tentatively volunteered.

“Fair start,” Eamon nodded. You will tell your mother you’re sorry. You will clean the car as best you can, and you will give up your allowances until the deep cleaning is paid for. Anything else?”

“Spanking?” Todd winced.

“Think you earned it?”

Both kids looked at each other, grimaced and hiccupped. “Yessir”

“Go kiss your mom, tell her you’re sorry, get your supper plates and take them to your rooms.”

Both kids started crying, but they obeyed.

Sheila embraced her boys when they tentatively opened and asked if they could come through her bedroom door. She hugged them and pulled them onto her bed with her. Apologies were easy. Hugs and kisses and chatter took a while. Eamon called a halt after about twenty minutes. The boys obeyed, collected their supper plates and went to their rooms.

Doors & windows were locked, their children were situated according to the house rules, in this case Todd took 5 licks of the strap, Christopher took 10, both boys ate their supper with their father stretched out in bed with them and both talked over their upsets privately with Dad. When their doors closed each was allowed to read whatever book was open until they were ready to sleep. Eamon took the time he needed to decompress and watch the news. Once all mandated bases were covered, he let his desires stray.

About an hour before he planned to call it a night, more than three hours after he gave her a supper tray, Eamon opened the bedroom door and told his wife to get in the corner and take her panties down. She’d been blissfully asleep, but was still desperately aroused. All she needed was about ten minutes to come to and some time to wash the sleep off her face.

She was given that and more.

“Did you handle today as well as you could have?” Eamon scolded as soon as he opened the bedroom door then closed it behind him.

“I tried honey!” Sheila whispered.

“If I said you did better than I would have what would you say?” he hissed with mock sternness.

“Did I?” she turned her face out of the corner with hope in her eyes.

“Mostly yes, your sense of their egos is uncanny, but you should have kept them in the car, brought them home and spanked them both right away.”

“I just can’t Eamon. What if I was wrong?”

“Were you?”

“No.”

“They need you to be firm Sheila.”

“I was Eamon. I put my foot down. I gave them what for. I just can’t spank. I just can’t.” Sheila sobbed.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Why?’

“Because you end up being the heavy all the time.”

“I think your six mile walk trumped any reasonable spanking baby. I’m impressed, ” Eamon laughed, and Sheila couldn’t help herself, she laughed too.

“Get over,” Eamon cut off discussion and ordered Sheila across his lap. She held back, but ultimately leaned down placing her bare bottom where it needed to be.

Eamon picked up the nine inch Bath & Body works bath brush Sheila got as a shower guest door prize years earlier and laid in hard. It was the spanking implement she feared and responded well to most. He reserved it for occasions when the point was particularly important. He knew that pain and tears were called for, and he knew that she needed to feel the effects for a few days. A nice red ass did wonders for Sheila’s sexual responsiveness, but periodically, it took more to break through her fears and insecurities. That need served them both well, and fortunately, usually the timing of their need to seek outlet meshed well. This was one of those times.

Eamon spanked Sheila as hard as he ever had, and Sheila lifted her bottom for it. Punishment and sex hadn’t blended well for them in the early part of their marriage, but in recent years they’d begun to open up to each other about the more secret aspects of the discipline they shared. A sound spanking was much more than a consequence, it was a pressure release valve for the natural tensions between them and it was an intensely satisfying outlet for their mutual sexual energies. This time Sheila needed to have her backside blistered, she needed to let go of the things she perceived as personal failures.

For Sheila, her husband was never more sexy than when he was firm, and uncompromising; though sometimes she was afraid of the pain and ashamed of her attitude, the certainty of consequences and his control and physical power always turned her on. For Eamon his wife’s sometimes reluctant submission turned him on even more than the visual and tactile rush of spanking her did. Dominating her and her response to it, even struggling and tears appealed to a deep need in him, especially because he knew how deeply she needed it.

This spanking’s intensity was amplified more than usual by their shared sexual kink. Sheila began to cry almost immediately, though instead of struggling against the pain, she embraced it. After a few minutes, as Eamon began to slow the pace, Sheila grasped the comforter tensed her whole body and gasped.

“No honey please, don’t stop. Harder. Spank me harder! Make me come. Please, do it hard!”

Eamon’s cock stiffened as he obliged his wife. He loved it when she needed the brutal side of him like this. Sheila responded to the faster harder spanking lifting her bottom with rhythmic thrusts. The guttural sounds she made as her mind and body reveled in the challenge of intensifying pain and pleasure spurred him on to sustain the harsh cadence.

“Oh fuck! Ow! Oh God! I’m going to come! I’m going to come! Ow! Ow! Fuck! Don’t stop! Harder honey! Ow! Ow! Ow!” Sheila’s whole being felt like it exploded when the first intense percussive spasms took her cunt. “Oh Fuck! Ungggggg! Harder!, More!” Her hips churned as she rode out a blissful climax. When she was spent, her body eased and relaxed. She became a boneless compliant contented woman comfortable across Eamon’s lap, her bottom wobbling and soft as he administered ten very hard finishing smacks, and then, when he applied his hands to squeeze and rub her flaming flesh, she cooed, her arousal immediately began to crest again. It was Eamon’s turn now, and she could tell by the brutality of his massage, that he needed to fuck her hard and fast. She eased closer to his body, pressing his rigid cock between her pelvis and his, humping with the squeezing rhythm of his hands, encouraging his ministrations.

“Mmmmm you’re ass is hot. You are so fucking sexy when you’re properly spanked and I know you’re going to sit tender for a good long time,” Eamon lifted Sheila to stand in front of him, Standing with her to pull open his fly and release himself. He didn’t waste time taking his pants of, but rather dropped them just enough to get down to business. He settled back down on the bed, resting back on his elbows. “Get on and ride me bitch. Ride it or I’ll whip your ass harder.”

Sheila smiled and obeyed climbing up on her knees above him. Both of them gasped as her slick warm pussy eased down on his thick rigid shaft. Sheila teased, pushing down slowly forcing Eamon to grasp her ass and pull her down hard. “Fuck me!” he growled. Leaning down Sheila kissed Eamon, her hips rocking quickly, and grinding her slick juices onto his pelvis. Her movements were fluid, as her tongue penetrated his mouth begging for his to reciprocate. Quickly reaching the pleasure, plateau, Sheila closed her eyes and stretched back upright riding her husband like a queen. She wanted it to last forever, his cock filling her, his hands squeezing her bruised battered bottom, but it couldn’t. She held off the spasms of a second climax for a little longer than four minutes, but inevitably her body couldn’t stop it. Need forced her thrusts to become faster until her comfortably swift canter became a desperate gallup, Eamon responded thrusting up and grinding hard with her each time her hips rocked her pussy and pulsing clit against him.

“That’s it baby, fuck it, fuck it hard!” Eamon felt the spasms shudder through her and reveled as the muscles of her cunt clamped and released him

“Jesus honey! I love you so much,” she whispered, leaning back down to kiss Eamon again.

“I love you too,” Eamon rolled them, spreading her thighs wide, placing her calves over his shoulders using the natural tension of the stretch as leverage for his thrusts. Now it was his turn to fuck, and his need was intense. Fast and hard his cock was a piston inside her engine Sheila watched his face as he thrust toward his release, smiling and gripping his arms when his eyes closed and his face froze in the familiar grimace that signaled the point of no return. She thrust with him when his hips literally pounded the first jets of his come into her, and then they both reveled grinding out the last perfect spasms of completion together.

They kissed and held each other remaining coupled for many more minutes. Sheila was first to break the trance.

“Will you spank me again in the morning please?”

Eamon laughed. “Take care young lady you might get more than you bargain for.”

“Yes please,” she smiled, and rolled so she could spoon her very well tended bottom back up against his belly and cock. Sheila fell asleep and did not rouse when Eamon got up to undress and tuck both of them under the covers.

Sheila was given exactly what she asked for before Eamon went off to work the next day, Another spanking just a little bit too hard, so that when Eamon kissed her good bye, he was treated to the endearing sight of her tear stained face, gentle smile and “thank you.” He went into his day with the image of his wife stretched out on her stomach with her bare bottom very red and bruised on display.

Sheila had a much better day. In fact, the sense of calm stayed with her for several days. Eamon wouldn’t have to spank her hard again for well over a month, though they did enjoy some stinging play more than once in the interim.