Prelude - all of this is resolved, cleaned up and at peace… shared because we’re not alone or really unique …
John and I had a minor disagree-ment about this drawing. He didn’t care for the frozen in time deformation of the perfection of the spanking ready female bare bottom. I completely grasp and understand the meaning of a clean & pristine before, or thoroughly punished after image. From a feed the fantasy point of view, the unspanked and the well spanked certainly offer fuel. But I identify with the being spanked and what they need to share too.
I was a bit surprised to find that my impact drawing held only limited appeal for John Of course he didn’t know that I’d devoted most of Saturday to rendering it, hoping the strap was going to be something he liked. He did like the pure technical ’execution’ of it, but he missed something vital & that was the impact & how it could play into more…..
The moment of impact makes us all equal - perfect, skinny, healthy, over weight and those of us much softer having lost significant weight. The wobbling liquid deformation is universal. THANk YOU GOD! No real bottom wobbles or implodes to a recognized image of the rounded heart shaped ideal., even the most toned (if healthy wobbles, jiggles and deforms).
Then again, there’s the deeper meaning of that split second of impact. Ashamed and self conscious though I fully admit I am related to it - the wobble and fleshy fatty jiggle especially, I’m a realist too. That moment reaches so much deeper into self/self image and trust in her partner for the spankee. The intense flame of meaning has had it’s wick lit with the deforming impact. It reaches consciousness first - the intense burn of the strap and all that it’s being applied for, or the discomforting knowledge that there was a breif unattractive flattenning and wobble of flesh when the strap hit whether she was ready or not….
The burn, of course is key, and that may well be the end point for some, but not all of us.
For me, the impact coalesces all of my inhibitions, vanities, and ooggies about the truths of the mechanics of spanking with that irrevokably intense sensory moment that it’s happening and all tat the psychological dynamics mean it’s not going to stop until it’s right.
So the unspoken, the desired, the expected and the best mesh…
Story for this one any one? I’ll work on one too…..
(Inspite of the weather, sure hope every one is having a wonderful Easter)
edit…. 19:24 April 8, 2007; my version
She wasn’t all the way in to going for a walk. The drive getting up to the remote cabin had been long and tiring. Even though they had a whole week of rustic isolation a head of them, she wasn’t keen to start it on foot. Quiet time with some soft music and a book appealed to her much more for the moment. “You could get the kinks out your way and let me unwind on the sofa,” she pointed out when he nudged her to get her sneakers back on. He wanted her company, and he wanted some exercise. “You need the exercise to blow off some off that sass,” he was firm. “Just the lake trail then,” she bargained for level ground and just a two mile hike.
“The crest,” he countered. “It’s Easter and we should make the effort to take in His glory.”
“I’m too tired to climb!” she complained, putting the last of the groceries in the refrigerator.
“You always get into it once we get going,” he countered.
And so it was that a slightly cranky wife accompanied her exhilarated husband on a short half mile hike to the crest of the mountain that once belonged to his family. It really was a glorious early spring day, and the air on her face felt was fragrant silk. Birds welcomed them back to the lonely trail that had only recently given up its deep snowy shrouds. The foxfire and honey suckle bloomed. Life stretched awake all around them, and of course he was right again. She was in to it almost as soon as they rounded the first curve on the path. It irked her just a little, and in the back of her mind, petulant chatter kept pace with her as she embraced the walk and her husband’s vigor. ‘Just for once couldn’t he be wrong?’ her weaker side grumbled, trying to begrudge the truth. It was persistent, that chatter; so persistent that when they made the crest weakness owned her mouth. He knew exactly how to clear the noise so that she could embrace the peace of the vista, the day and all of its meaning. It only took the baring of her bottom and a few flaming strokes of his belt to get that accomplished. Kissing away her tears, he pulled her close. He knew she needed the view unfettered and he made sure to help her have it. It turned out that the climb and the vigorous start to their week greatly enhanced the quiet connection and renewal that they would enjoy for the rest of the week.
I knew you were going to be less than pleased when I admitted that I’d forgotten to piick up the season tickets for the Eagles. Last year you’d let it pass as an honest oversight. This year you warned me that if I left it until the last day again, and those tickets were sold, you were not going to be quite as forgiving. Especially because I’d admitted that I was secretly glad you’d been home to watch the games more often. The ESPN and NFL Sunday ticket subscriptions were less than 1/2 the cost of Eagles season tickets after all.
When I got to that darned ticket window you wouldn’t believe how my stomach sank & my heart fluttered up into my throat when I saw the season passes “sold out”. Man o man was that ticket agent snotty!
I knew from the look in your eyes when I told you that you were dissapointed in me.
“Did you do it on purpose?” you asked, those normally soft gentle eyes became stern probes scanning my face and mining my eyes for hints of the truth. I hadn’t deliberately forgotten today, though I had started out a few days last week intending to make that stop, but then actively vetoed it because of the inconvenience and my preference to get home to you. I admitted to that and then felt my body tremble when your expression changed from attentive to resolved.
“This time we’re going to apply a firm consequence for your procrastinating. Not only that, this time I’m going to apply some of my dissappointment with you, and with once again having to battle the crowds for tickets to the games I want to see live.” You were serious, and I’m sure my eyes became dilated saucers of disbelief.
We’d just talked the other day about using your real feelings to add stronger meaning and a punishment energy to a discipline session. We’d both agreed that in principle anyway it seemed worth considering. I just didn’t expect to have theory come to reality so soon. It had been so long since there’d been any need for discipline between us, probably more than six months, and there, as if the conversation had given the universe the required energy it was in front of me, alive, in my face.
Your hands went to your belt buckle while your face turned to direct me into the den.
Pull your skirt up and bend over that desk.
“I didn’t mean it,” I pleaded with you, while my mind barely coped with the battling of my opposing wills; fight or obey. I don’t think you sensed my struggle, but when I didn’t move after a minute, you pushed me along with your left hand firmly place between my shoulder blades.
Before I knew it my torso was down flattened on the hard wood surface and my skirt was up leaving my nervous bottom covered only by my new blue panties.
“Sometimes, your tendency to procrastinate is almost passive aggressive. When the outcome of putting off chores seems to serve your own ends more than just make things inconvenient for us, it is a particularly unattractive habit. I want you to think about this NOW!”
The first six strokes bit into my bottom like ravenous burning snakes, and brought tears and remorse immediately to the surface. I started sobbing immediately. The dissappointment I’d invoked between us, so well defined by your words, literally heaved within my chest; my heart needed it gone.
“Pull your panties down now,” your voice was hard. I could feel the energy eminating from you behind me. I knew you were having your own physical battle. Apply the punishment and vent your dissapointment and in doing so keep them balanced.
You used your belt harder and longer than was customary, and while I knew I deserved it, I couldn’t keep that in my mind during the spanking. I begged you to stop, put my hands in the way, slid sidways down the desk and even kicked my legs up arching to protect my bottom with my feet. My hands, arms and shins still bear the welts. You stayed firm. Expecting me to obey the short matter of fact commands. “Move your hands,” “Feet down,” “Slip off the end and you’ll go back over this desk in the morning.”
“Please honey!” I cried. “I can’t take any more.”
“You will take what you know you deserve. Show me the woman I know is accountable.”
‘I can’t find her,’ my mind whirled in desperation. I knew it wasn’t going to last much longer, but in that moment the few minutes that had passed seemed more like hours.
Soon though, my fight left me, my heart let go of guilt, the heaving sobs changed to exhausted sniffling hiccups, and my hands; resolved to allow the proper target take the full measure of it’s due; moved to rest in the slippery pool of tears and snot that surrounded my face. I think that final acceptance and submission to it was what you’d been working for because you paused then.
“Good girl,” your voice soothed me, and then you laid on hardest with the last ten.
This time I was able to ask you if you felt better. All you said was “Do you?” When I agreed that I did, you just smiled that satisfied smile you have, pulled me to you and held me. After a few minutes, I was still curious. “Did it help you?” Again, just that same pleased smile. “Punishment’s over, it is a closed issue.”
I let it go, knowing that at some quiet time weeks down the road we will talk about it again. Not this transgression of course, but whether it added meaning to use your feelings as additional fuel to the fire of that spanking.
At that moment we had other coals to stoke with bodies entwined.
Something got this gal a few licks with a strap and time out… wonder what it was and is there more to come? Any thoughts? Again readers are invited to offer their own interpretation…
This is from a photo I came across years ago some where. I love it because the couple look so much like all of us. Ordinary regular folks. He looks intent on making a point, and she looks like it’s getting through don’t you think?
I got a kick out of the 3/7/07 update at the new spanking site I found. Spanking Couple.
She had been put in time out after a strapping, and had been promised something nice for her now that the maintenance type discipline was over. Her hubby returns and smacks her bottom still perched in position to be spanked. There’s a little banter about whether one of the strap whaps hit her crack or not. I have to side with her. If you watch the earlier update in which a deliberate ‘crack” spanking is administered, the rosey halo goes well outside the zone within which the strap stroke in question landed. Do I think the spanker ‘missed the mark’ as he teased. Nope. When administering several accumulative whaps to one cheek the crack’s in the neighborhood, you know? In any case the majority of the spanking is in part one, and it’s part two that I’m sharing this sampling from.
It’s endearing and a slice of real life with men and their anatomy when even though he has a bit of a “chubby” their word for erection going, when he comes back to pleasure her, he has to stop and first ask her if she’ll help him with that. The expression she gives him is wicked. He asks again, and you get a sense of the good natured sparkle between the coulple. Veronica get’s out of the position that he put her in tho take care of this….
So that he can put her back in position and give her that “something nice” he originally promised. Rear entry sex with some firm butt whacking close out the scene. The scene is tastful, and very far removed from ruting sweaty porn.
It keeps with their goal to offer something real couples might be able to identify with. I think they’re still testing the waters getting a feel for what works and what will be preferred by their members without debasing their partnership.
Well while technically difficult due to the black cloths and deep shadows, this drawing gave me something to do while I sniffle cope with levoquin induced gut pain and guzzle cough syrup just so my chest muscles will stop cramping…
Enjoy.. & do consider joining spanking couple. They have a non-recurring billing option if you find it’s not your cup of tea.
Sleep eluded her until well after 2 AM, while Eamon slept soundly next to her. Not even a pillow over her head could drown out the annoying cadence of his peaceful breathing and occasional soft snore. She thought to elbow him awake so he’d roll over and give her time to get into sleep before he got deep enough to breath like that again. She restrained the urge, and at some point must have dozed off, because his farting stumble to the bathroom at dawn startled her out of a dream about choosing floor tiles.
Sheila moaned and rolled deeper under the comforter and stole Eamon’s pillow to further bury her head. Every sound he made set her nerves on edge. She had not had enough sleep, and she knew his mindless lumbering around was going to create just enough din to make sure she could not go back to sleep. Fortunately she didn’t have to work today. It was the beginning of a four day stretch off. Eamon’s shift didn’t begin until two PM, so she felt no quilt lying in and letting him do the breakfast chores and the launching of children off to school.
The school day morning noise level in their mostly happy home was probably in the ear damaging decibel range most days, though usually Sheila hardly noticed it. This morning though, all she wanted was quiet. Every grunt, howl, crash of dishes, thump of running feet, whining chatter of childish bickering about blue socks, every sound was an irritant; a reminder that she wasn’t asleep and she wasn’t going to get to go back to sleep.
Forever passed with Sheila in restless torment and then blissful silence. They were out the door. If she couldn’t have sleep, at least she had her house to herself and peace. For twenty minutes at least until Eamon came back from walking his charges the half mile to their school. That was her cue to get up and have her privacy in the bathroom. Go pee, brush her teeth, shower, shave pits, calves and panty line, wash & wrap her hair, and then don one of Eamon’s clean oversized t shirts and putter out to the kitchen was the plan, and it went uninterrupted. That accomplishment did a little to smooth the restless cranky edge lack of sleep had put on over her usually sunny morning mood.
Coffee was the next objective, and she managed to revel in the silken warmth of at least the first mouthful before Eamon invaded her quiet. Sometimes the man just had no idea how big and loud his presence was. What he innocently intended to be an exuberant good morning kiss, ended up being a sweaty physical intrusion.
Sheila didn’t say anything, but Eamon could feel her mood.
“Wrong side of the bed?” he chuckled.
“You snore!” she growled.
“So you’ve said before. Only bother’s you when you’re out of sorts, so what’s the issue now?”
“Oh shut up! You don’t get to pronounce my mood and declare an issue that doesn’t exist.” Sheila got up to go to the pantry for cereal.
“Alrighty then,” he laughed. “I’ll lay odds we end up with an issue to deal with by supper time, just based on your mood.”
“Stop it! You’re not going to goad me into bickering with you right now. So please just don’t.” Sheila was already beyond goaded though. The urge to cuss and throw things hovered just under her hairline. An aura reader probably would have seen the simmering purplish red glow that was her temper.
Eamon’s prediction was off by about seven hours.
“God Fucking damned pigs all of you!“ Sheila hollered from behind the refrigerator door.
“What?” Eamon moved closer thinking something serious was wrong.
Sheila came out from behind the door and threw the problem at him. The empty quart jug of 2% milk hit him square in the chest.
“You fed them this morning! You poured milk on their cereal and you put the empty jug back in the fridge, and then you walked past the 7-11 twice. Did you get more milk for me? You knew we were out after all. You put the empty jug in the fridge. Why do you always do shit like that.”
Eamon caught the jug and calmly set it on the counter. Sheila was cute standing there fists balled up every muscle twitching with temper. He was tempted to laugh, but knew that would escalate things more than he wanted them too.
Instead he lunged caught his wife around the waist and muscled her over his lap. She wasn’t initially open to the cure Eamon intended to apply to her mood, so he had to do a little work and struggle a bit with her will. It didn’t take long. Maybe ten minutes and Sheila’s cranky edge was completely burned off, and her crimson bare bottom bore the evidence.
“Feel better?” Eamon held her snug until she relaxed in his arms. Sheila nodded closing her eyes with a sigh. “I’m sorry.”
That was his cue to lift her up and carry her back to bed.
Sheila yielded to the remaining curative ministrations Eamon applied; mainly the deep penetration of his cock and gentle kneading and massaging of his hands. Nothing helped Sheila get past the restless irritations that kept sleep away better than a sound cathartic spanking and slow gentle sex. After making sure she’d had a good cry and a good cum, Eamon tucked her back in under the covers with orders to stay there until lunch was ready. Sheila smiled and snuggled down, easily dozing off to what had been maddeningly elusive, but now very comforting dreams within seconds.
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…
Sheila walked in the house, her mind still consumed by the events of the last four hours. The last 40 minutes in particular had left her spitting nails into thin air and lecturing the warm empty car seats that were once occupied by a pair of selfish snotty little boys. Her skin buzzed with a mix of anger, frustration, fatigue and helplessness. She didn’t expect to find her home occupied when she pushed open the laundry room door with a firm bump of her hip, and truth be told, had counted on some empty space to vent some pent up steam in for a while. “What’s with you banging in here like that?” his obtuse question inflamed her rawest nerve.
‘How did he do that?’ she growled under her breath picking up the beach bag full of towels and sundry toys she’d lugged in from the car and dropping them in the basket beside the washing machine. ‘How does he always manage to ask the most obtuse useless questions right when all I can do it bite his head off?’She didn’t answer. She knew that wasn’t the wisest way to handle things, but her temper was up, and damn it she’d earned and really deserved the private moments she sought to indulge it. Eamon didn’t see it that way, though granted he was oblivious to what had worked to help put her in the mood she was in and didn’t have a clue that his unexpected presence in the private space she sought so frantically was just another irritant.
“Hey?” he shared his confusion and irritation at being ignored and dismissed when Sheila pushed past his hulking frame where he hovered in her way in the kitchen. “Don’t! Just don’t!” she growled, holding her hand up while she shook her head warning him off.
She saw in his expression that Eamon didn’t like her behavior and tone. She also sensed that he wasn’t going to be receptive to having her take out frustrations he had nothing to do with on him. “I’m at my whit’s end right now honey, please, just leave me alone.” “Where are the kids?” Eamon realized and smiled.
“Kidnapped by aliens I hope,” she hissed, tears and fear burned the corner of her eyes. She left that statement hanging and made her way back into her bedroom where she could wash her face, change and cry. “I’m a terrible mother….”
*********** The morning got off to a sweet start, with Eamon pressing his cock up inside her, gripping the still tender butt cheeks he’d spanked hard ‘just because’ the night before, thrusting into, kissing and owning her, making her come three times before filling her with his climax. After he left to work letting her linger and properly come awake into a day that belonged to the first week of summer vacation with two boys, seven and nine, Sheila masturbated coating her pussy with the essence of her husband that oozed from her. She was able to steal a precious languid half hour before noises from other parts of the house slowly forced her up and into the shower.
Bliss quickly gave way to the bickering of a pair of listless boys whose new onset freedom and the overwhelming novelty of whole days to fill, had temporarily suspended their ability to self regulate. In their minds, all of a sudden they had nothing to do but pick at each other. Yesterday was about to start all over and yesterday had been hell on earth. Sheila knew without question that she was never going to match the staying power and stubborn will of one, never mind two grounded boys whose raw energy had already escalated to blows as a preferred out let. They needed to get out and into some prolonged vigorous activity or they were going to drive her insane. Having come off nine month of night shift into barely a few days of living in the day, she was going to have to dig for the energy that providing that for them was going to entail. She kept her sights on Cub Camp, Wrestling Camp, swimming lessons, Art Camp, Day Camp, Family Vacation and the Dad’s week. Summers always had this pattern. Intellectually she knew it. Why Mom’s week was always two weeks, and why it was always first was a deal she thought could do with negotiating now that she was working nights and the kids were getting bigger.
Yesterday she knew she was in it now, and this morning she knew that life with her kids would not be improved by grounding them to their rooms for another glorious summer day. It wasn’t their fault that she was exhausted. It wasn’t their fault that a full year of full days had suddenly left them in a vacuum they were ill prepared to cope with. Up till now they’d had space to play in and friends their ages to play with. This year had introduced unexpected changes into their lives; three families of ‘best friends’ had picked up and moved away. They would have too, but with career changes in the works for Dad, the money just wasn’t there. So now Todd and Christopher had no local playmates even close to their own age, and highway and shopping mall construction had taken over and ruined the huge multi-acre wilderness that had for years been a huge landscape for childish adventure. Ground hog Paradise was bulldozed. Granite tower, a literal Stonehenge epitomizing super power for 7, 8 and 9 year olds had been pulverized. Boulder city was no more. All winter the awe and novelty of watching heavy equipment lay waste and destroy their playground never quite registered. It had been cool while it happened. Especially while they could watch from their huge dining room window. Now that it was fenced forbidden territory anger and rebellion replaced awe, the loss was real. Mom took the brunt when after the firstweekend and then Monday with no school didn’t come through with all the wished for possibilities of freedom.
Boredom set in, and along with it came restless energy. Pleas for cooperation, suggestions for diversion worked for a day or so, and then not even threats worked. Finally, yesterday afternoon, at the end of her tolerance, Mom invoked punishment and two very aggressive little boys went to bed at 2 PM and stayed there. Dad didn’t question, instead he visited his boys in their respective cells, reinforced the sentence and reinforced that he expected to see better behavior in the days to come. Mom and Dad had super alone while their kids ate sandwiches and milk alone in their rooms, no TV, no radio, no games … books if they wanted to read, but no talking, no freedom no contact. Later when they cuddled on the sofa, when Sheila let tears trickle down her face during the news, Eamon squeezed her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m no good,” she sobbed.
“No good at what?” Eamon was oblivious, but engaged.
“I’m a rotten mother. I just yell at them, make them mad and give up.”There was silence.
“Tell me baby,” Eamon finally squeezed his wife’s shoulder then pulled his torso up so he could see into her eyes.
“I did everything they wanted Eamon. We hiked the creek and used the nets to catch pollywogs hold them see if they had leg bud yet and let them go, hell I even kissed one and named it Todd junior. Then Christopher pushed Todd in the water calling him a wuss. I helped them laugh it off asnd apologize, then I walked in a handstand because they begged me to all the way down the path from the Harris’s to home and offered a dollar to both if they could help each other make their personal best. 2 steps, 5 steps, 2 feet or 10 feet, personal best was the goal. All that did was make Todd upset because Chris could get more than 10 steps for his weak try at three. He’s only seven Eamon! Nobody expects more and we don’t push him like that either! Even when I stepped in and I held both of them up so they both made it further than the best in the family they ended up brawling. I made their favorite lunch and they screamed at each other about who like it first and whose real favorite it was, then Christ threw his lunch at Todd and told me to eat it myself. I screamed at them honey. I gave up and put them to bed and told them they were monsters.” Sheila let here tears escape into a flood.
Eamon suppressed a chuckle and just held his wife. Hearing the whole story of the day, he was tempted to add to the consequences she’d imposed on their boys, but resisted. Raw energy and pride had a tendency to fuel aggression. They were good kids and he suspected that they’d been given a fair message that they deserved the chance to heed before escalation of consequences was imposed. He did have a sense that not just their raw needy energy was playing a role in the mix, so he lifted his wife off the sofa an hour before their usual bedtime, and tugged her to bed. He gave her a gentle bath and then climbed in with her encouraging her every stroke and ministration before lifting her out of the tub and taking her over his lap. He spanked her slowly but firmly at first, then harder and more vigorously until he felt her come. Then he took her for his own release and they fell asleep.
*****
He needed to reinforce things in the morning. She embraced and reveled with him in what felt like perfect closure, and now, here he was after a hard day at work dealing with a wife even more out of sorts and no answers about where their kids were.
“Sheila?” Eamon came up behind her in the bathroom as she scrubbed flooding tears off her face with cold water and a half dry face cloth.
“Please leave me alone,” she hiccupped into the rough white fabric.
“Sheila!” he wasn’t going to leave it at that.
“Fuck off Eamon! They’re getting exercise! Exercise they NEED! Just leave me alone please!” Sheila stood up and turned around to glare into her looming husband’s eyes. Eamon couldn’t help the twinkle that shone in the corners of his eyes, and even though she saw it, Sheila couldn’t help but burst into tears.
“I threw them out of the car OK. They were bickering, they bickered all day even about who could swing first, every other minute they were punching each other, pulling arm hairs, twisting arms, giving Indian sunburns, screaming, cursing. I bought three favorite lunches. All of a sudden, now that our usual choices are paid for, Todd wants Dad’s favorite lunch and he’s never liked his, and now that it’s paid for, even after I asked what everyone wanted up front, even though Chris wanted onion rings instead of curly fries. They threw all of their lunch at each other. They opened and squirted ketchup everywhere! Go look at the car! I’m not cleaning it up. I’m just not! When they wouldn’t stop, I stopped the car and warned them that they made promises to both of us last night, and I promised them promises will be kept all around. When they both told me to shut up, I told them to get out of the car. I told them to walk home if they thought they still deserved a home and dared to face the consequences.” Sheila’s sobs intensified. “They’re going to run away now. They know they’re in for it if they come home. I’ve ruined my kids and I’ve thrown them away!” She cried inconsolably for close to an hour. Eamon swatted her ass more than once when she blubbered and let her fears stray into useless and extreme wallows of fear. He knew she was exhausted, he also knew his kids, spirited and rambunctious though they could be loved their mother.
Then shortly after 4 PM the back door squeaked on its hinges. A pair of dusty exhausted boys tried to sneak into their home unnoticed. Sheila’s tears disappeared, and though a relieved smile owned her soul and betrayed deep gratitude to her husband’s lips in a deep almost lost kiss, firm resolve ruled. They’d been walking for two and a half hours in 89 degree heat. The full water bottles she’d thrown with them out on the shoulder were just about empty. When her boys started their day bickering, Sheila searched her soul for a diversion they all could enjoy. The beach! For a hopeful 6 hours it seemed to be the ticket. Her happy clan worked in tandem gathering suits, towels lotion and even helping choose juices and snacks. The drive out was fun. Songs, jokes, ‘did you know that,’ chatter ruled and was amicable. Even the first three hours of beach time were fun and peaceful. It was gearing up to come home that started things going down hill, and the 20 mile drive home that pushed tempers to the nadir. Less than 6 miles from home Sheila gave in. Her kids knew the way home, the roads were rural but safe, she needed head space, they needed a firm lesson and she wasn’t up for dragging them home for a whipping she just couldn’t give them.
A day that started out well went sour. It wouldn’t be the first yuk day out of a life time of mostly great days all tolled, but it was one. Eamon dealt with his boys. They had no way to know that their mother stood with her panties at half mast in the corner sobbing, grateful that her kids had come home, after being afraid that she’d lost them and had failed as a parent with them. When Dad got through with them, their backsides were scalded, and then their bellies and ears and hearts were filled up. They went to bed early again only this time they woke up with respect for their lot and without out vengeance.
Eamon also spanked his wife very hard and very firmly before he let her go to bed that night. Not for the way she’d handled her boys. He thought she’d done an exemplary job with them and it was his follow up and support of her authority that fell short. He spanked her hard because she’d shown so much fear of her role, so much insecurity of her choices and so little faith in him to support her. She stood in the corner, her body and bottom bare, just her panties at her knees for an hour. It was a quiet wait, so many worries kept her company. Then he came to bed and called her to him.
“I love you!” he whispered.
“Why?” she sobbed.
“Because you’re you. Come here!” he scolded.
“I’m not your child Eamon!” she objected.
“Nope you sure aren’t,” he agreed.
“But you treat me like one,” she held back.
“I do not! I love your strength I love you in every way and I love your submission. You need this,” he opened his arms to his wife, and she melted into him. Giving her soul up to every torment that she couldn’t answer to was giving her bare backside to his hand. Pain was secondary release primary to her soul.
I started this drawing sitting in the corner of the airport a few months back. It’s a sequel to another one I did titled preoccupied. I find anthropomorphing things to be fascinating and I find the reverse, turning the human essence into natural elements equally so. Hills and valleys and pastoral scenes have always held a comforting and gratefully embraced sensuality for me just as still life paintings of pears and apples always bring to mind the luscious implications of devoured and delectible boobs and bottoms. I know this kind of imagery takes fertility and earthy connections to another level, but just think of the sensual canyons and trails you’ve wished to take. Will you? Have you? Would you?
