Archive for the 'creative writing' Category

Heal thyself… a bit of a rant

Monday, June 29th, 2009

I’m just back from another rapid turn around overnight trip and have a heavy assignment more than 50 miles away tomorrow. Tonight I’ve decided to wind down by down loading comedy albums from iTunes … Billy Connolly, Bob Newhart, Bill Cosby, Ron White, Bill Engvall, Jeanne Robertson and Ron White. They should keep me laughing for a while. I’ve got America’s funniest videos and Americaa’s funniest animal videos set to TIVO along with Reba and Two and a Half Men. My crime shows (except for two on cable … The Closer & Criminal Intent are in reruns, so going with comedy only for a while seems like a great plan.

Frankly I’m disgusted with the news media. Where was the notice that Ed McMahon passed away last week, and Farrah Fawcett’s passing is now barely an after thought in the midst of this Michael Jackson frenzy? How many ordinary anonymous families experienced the loss of a family member last week? [I guess I have a special sensitivity to this since someone very close to me passed quietly on the same day as John Kennedy Jr. It was cruel really that there was no relief from our loss because at every turn a pseudo celebrity’s passing took over every venue of relief for weeks] Mr. Jackson was a ruined, very troubled human being, the current speculative frenzy around his death is just wrong. The blessing is that he’s not here to suffer the piranha like feeding frenzy around his last moments. Ass holes like Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton (two men who offer nothing at all to society, who have leached the racism card for nothing but personal gain and wealth) once again crawl (creepily and exploitively) out of the woodwork. GAG! Just leave the family alone! Let them grieve. It’s Cory Feldman’s business that he cut his friend off in his own drug addled wallow right when his friend needed him most, and then never took the time or seized any chance to reconnect - exactly why is this newsworthy? Go away you slimy press hungry freak! Millions of us have been there. Human’s make choices everyday, even though tomorrow is fleeting. Regrets just are. Wish they weren’t, but that would be a pipe dream.

Frankly, nothing but the news that he died, and his family is grieving is all any of the rest of the world desrves to know right now.

We get dealt good cards and bad cards. You can win with a bad hand and you can loose with the best hand. It’s all in how we play them. Some of us play well, some of us don’t. You’d be surprised how many wonderful families nurtured/raised progeny who never manage to master fundamental/ordinary life’s skills in-spite of the fact that this progeny has been blessed with exceptional - sometime extraordinary talents.

Some of us are never going to learn not to smother every flame of hope out of fear, some of us will eventually learn to embrace the fire. Some of us will make choices that make it possible to find happiness and peace, and some of us will make choices that invite painful outcomes. Not one of us made a wrong choice either, we acted from need, and some of us pain. If any of us could see the future, all of us would question even our very best instincts.

It’s regret that I feel I personally feel the need to work out. I regret many things and I feel blessed having been given many things. My current biggest regret is hurting one of my best friends, even if it had to be done for both of our peace of mind.

Ed McMahon, by all reports was a good egg, a friend to many and a dedicated advocate for abandoned and homeless animals. Farrah Fawcett bravely disclosed her sexual history in the hopes that others could learn about anal cancer and the risk factors for it. Michael Jackson hid from the world, and owned no believable truths about himself - he sought to be Peter Pan and failed. He could sing and he could dance, but as a man he offered nothing else but unresolved questions…. But they (Ed & Farrah) genuinely gave what Mr. M. Jackson never did - he got famous doing self aggrandizing things.

I should be more empathetic I suppose considering that in my small world I’m just as guilty. I hid, I embellished, I found my reality unworthy and I re-wrote it to conform so I could belong ….

People subjected to the piranha feedings don’t often heal. Piranha devour and destroy. Perhaps they shit out molecules that might congeal and offer a some lucky soul a second chance. Mostly they ruin lives and obliterate history. Mr. Jackson’s family don’t deserve this. Please leave them alone.

Just my thoughts.

P

Winter Wonders Chapter 8

Wednesday, January 30th, 2008

Chapter 8
By patty, copyright 2007

Caleb found Connie fussing with feed sacks and muttering to herself in Roy’s barn.

“Time alone will do that,” he chuckled.

“Time alone?” Connie tried to suppress the startle Caleb’s voice evoked in her.

“Ever find your own mouth arguing with yourself when no one’s nearby?” his smile was disarming.

“Yes, lately. Almost all the time,” Connie laughed.

“That what you were about just now?” he winked.

Connie thought about it for a moment or so.  “No, not this time,” she decided frank was better than a soft peddle.

“May I ask what had you lend your voice to growling and fussing, then?” Caleb’s question was amicable and completely without threat.

“You,” Connie answered honestly.  “Your wife didn’t deserve for you to do that so I had to hear it.”

“And if I tell you that’s our business?” Caleb chuckled.

“If it was just your business then why would you do it so I had to hear it?” Connie’s response was matter of fact.

“Did I invite you to watch, tell you what was between us or ask your opinion?” Caleb’s question was good humored.

“No, but….” Connie started to respond, her ire ignited by the empathy she felt for Lilia’s shame.

“No, nothing,” Caleb cut her off.  “Lilia knows why.  It will be her choice to share it with you or not.  It will be your good manners that keep what you over heard where it belongs. Behind your lips and in your trust until or unless you are invited to comment.”

“What if I don’t hold with men beating their wives for nothing more than stating their mind?” Connie wasn’t about to have her mind dismissed just yet.

“Beating is a long leap from a spanking young’un.  You’ll do well to keep that in mind.  My Lil knows exactly where she stands where that’s concerned.  Thirteen years together will do that – give a couple to know where things stand and what’s the likely outcome of pushing certain lines.  She knows the difference between her smart mouth and her welcome insights.  Something Roy could give you a few hard lessons about, I suspect.” Caleb laughed outright.

“Mr. Miller, for one thing I’m no young’un,” Connie’s tone became sweet and cordial, “even so, as you so correctly informed me when it came to your wife: what goes on behind closed doors is none of my affair.  I’ll request that same courtesy when it comes to what might come up between Roy and me about my manners as an equally a private affair.  I will respect your privacy and Lilia’s if you will do me the same courtesy.  Come spring, when I am gone, I don’t especially care what you people decide to gossip about.”

It was all Caleb could do to keep from sputtering and holding back laughter.

“I think he’ll keep you.” Caleb set about to cut the prime beef Lilia requested.

“Keep me?” Connie was puzzled by the large man’s remark.

“You’ll see.  You’re well matched to Roy.  Put some flesh on you and you could be Mary’s twin though you’re a force in your own right.  Roy’s always been one to admire a woman with her own mind and spirit.  You’re no shrinking flower - that I’ll give you; ought to be an interesting season for you both,”   Caleb spoke as much to the side of beef he was cutting into as he did to Connie.

“I’m not here to become Roy’s new wife.” Connie muttered, pretending to search for eggs after giving the pigs an early bucketful of feed.

“How’d you come here?” Caleb’s question was fair.  “I never figured Roy for a mail order bride.”

“Mail order?” Connie choked.  “No!  That’s not how it is!”

“I’ve guessed that young’un.  Just not quite sure how things here came about.” Caleb chuckled.

“Well, I’d prefer not to get into it if that’s alright with you?  I told Roy the whole story and that was hard enough.  I fell upon this place trying to get to Denver, hid out and stole food because I was afraid.  Roy found me and now he knows everything, and he’s let me stay on here as a hand,” Connie tried to pre-empt any more questions.

“So you’ve said, in the meantime Roy’s not here, and all I have is your word,” Caleb pointed out.

“It’s true!” Connie’s eyes threatened to betray her with tears.

“You runaway from family?” Caleb pressed

“No!” Connie snapped back when the large man pressed her. “I left of my own accord when given a choice to take to my stepfather’s bed or leave after my mother died.”

“You on the run from the law?” Caleb pretended her first disclosure didn’t upset him.

“Maybe, maybe not, and that’s between me and Roy.  He knows, so you just butt out,” Connie hissed, irritated by Caleb’s insistent prying and moved away where further conversation with him became impractical.

Caleb let her go.  He was impressed by her candor and spunky nature.  He could see in her eyes and feel from her quick unguarded responses that she was vulnerable, funny, strong, bold and honest.  He stopped for several moments before delivering the meat his wife asked him to retrieve, to offer a silent prayer that his old friend would see this gamin imp’s intrusion into his life as the gift that it was.  ‘He gave you Mary and she was everything you needed to make you years ago.  Now look what’s fallen into your lap.  She’s perfect! You’re a fool if you let her go.”

Caleb liked Connie, but he’d keep that to himself until he could feel Roy out on his feelings.

Connie had already done what she could in the barn considering it was barely mid-afternoon.  Bossy would not be milking ready for hours more even if Connie gave her enough grain so she’d founder.  Short of killing Roy’s cow, Connie decided that chinking the lea side of the barn struck her as something Roy had yet to finish, so that was what Connie set herself to do in order to avoid further inquisition.  Her diversion lasted less than an hour. 
Connie managed only two barrels of creek clay & cut frozen sod before her host’s best friend intruded. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ooooooOOOOOOOooooooo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Lily wants you in the kitchen.  I’ll finish this,” Caleb pulled the shovel from Connie’s hand on her third trip to the hardened sod patch Roy was mining to supplement his clay chinking mortar.

“I’ve only done one side of the barn,” Connie objected.

“I can see that. I’ll bet I’ve weather proofed more barns than you have young’un,” Caleb pulled the sod filled wheel barrow away from his hostess.

“It’s my job!” Connie’s tone was haughty.

“Might be that it is, but I doubt Roy would appreciate you sassing his friends least of all me, and I know that if he finds out you’ve ignored my request of you or Lily’s lesson for pleasing his stomach, you’ll be lucky to sit again before spring.”  Caleb didn’t even try to conceal his humor.

Connie shoved the handles of the wheel barrow toward Caleb and took the meat he handed to her.  “You want the job, you got it.” She grimaced.  “Do it right please, I have no desire to have to do it over.”
“Ohhhh my young’un you’re asking for it with that tone, and we both know you’ve got no call to use it.” Caleb’s temper bristled.

“No call?  Who dropped in on who with no notice?  Who shoved their nose in other peoples’ business uninvited?” Connie snipped back. “Who’s throwing his weight around on other peoples’ property? And you stop calling me young’un!”

“Friends don’t need an invite to visit, deliver provisions or check in on each other out here,” Caleb stiffened.  “It’s understood.  It’s an obligation.  Roy knows it lives it and you’d darned well get it straight too.”

“Fine! You’ve lectured me about the way of life here, and you’ve ordered me to turn over my responsibility to you in favor of going to your wife for gravy lessons.  I’m doing it.  I hope it pleases you, but if I am to be whipped for work Roy deems inadequate then it better be you who drops his drawers.”  Connie swept away, not waiting for any answer.  She knew she’d stepped out of bounds, and banked on the few more days Roy would be away to hide all of her insolence with his friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hi,” Connie spoke to Lilia as she re-entered the cabin.

“Hey!” Lila responded.  “How come you’re in so soon?”

“He made me,” Connie shrugged and indicated that it was Caleb.  “He said you needed to teach me.” 

“About Roy’s favorite gravy?” Lilia gasped.  “That’s so easy I could talk you through it!”  Lilia mused.  “What is he thinking?

“You know him better than I do, you tell me?” Connie grumbled.

“He’s a man, that’s the only excuse I have for him,” Lilia’s expression was soft and apologetic.  “A good man though, truly.”

“I’ll take your word on that,” Connie sighed.

“Well we have one afternoon and one evening together, let’s not Caleb spoil us getting to know one another OK?” Lilia smiled and embraced Connie.  “It’s a rare treat for me to enjoy the company of another woman.”

“Is it just you and Caleb out on a spread like this too?” Connie asked.

“No, Caleb’s built our place up the way Roy once planned to build this one.  The hands are all men though some have wives.  Most of the married ones live out at the stations though.  They keep the wells working, tend the stray cattle and wrangle horses while their wives raise their children and tend the few cash crops they can manage. I only see them once or twice a year.”

“Sounds lonely,” Connie whispered.

“It’s not so bad I have Caleb, my horses and my other pastimes.” Lilia’s laugh was light and genuine.

“My mother was good at things I wish I’d taken time to learn,” Connie shared a wistful memory.

“What kinds of things?” Lilia took the meat and placed it with a small amount of water into a broad and very hot cast iron pan.

Connie moved to the side of the stove top where she could watch.  “She was good with a needle and she could draw people.  She made things with her hands that people would pay for. I have none of her talents.”

“Did she try to teach you? Did you test your hand?” Lilia’s question was natural.

“No,” Connie admitted, the lost opportunity made her heart lurch, and she couldn’t prevent the equivalent lurch from finding expression in her voice.

“Then, you don’t know that she hasn’t passed on her skills to you.  I can help you with sewing and such feminine things.  If you’d like to be a horse woman I can help you there.  I’ll bet if you apply yourself and want it, you’ll find you can draw with your own brand of skill.” Lilia touched Connie’s shoulder.

“I’ll be happy to get my teaching certificate and forge a life for myself if I survive this winter,” Connie sighed.

“Survive?” Lilia laughed.  “Well unless you do something reckless or illness takes you, Roy’s got you safely situated.  You’re very fortunate to have come across his path you know?”

“I know,” Connie blushed.

“I think he’s lucky too.”

“Why?” Connie cocked her head her mind unable to quite grasp the meaning.

“He’s been alone far too long, and you suit him,” Lilia smiled.

“How do I suit him?”

“You’re sturdy and spunky.  You’ll make him laugh again,” Lilia’s laugh was again light and now infused with something Connie found intriguing.  “I’m sure you can’t see it because he’s probably been as stern to you so far as Caleb seems, but you will see, if you watch and open your heart to him.  You suit him.  I know it, and if Mary could speak she would tell you I am right.”

“She has,” Connie spoke before she realized it.

“She has?” It was Lilia’s turn to whisper.

“In my dreams,” Connie shrugged.  “I talk to her, and she talks to me.  She asked me to be her Christmas gift to Roy.”

“Oh Connie!” Lilia hugged the young woman.  “Please?  Please do.”

“I don’t think it is the right thing for me, or for him.” Connie pulled away.  “I fell on this place running from everything.  I’m a thief!  I was going to steal his horse and leave him without.”

“Nonsense!” Lilia put her hands back on Connie’s shoulders and shook her. “Providence brought you here.  I believe in my heart that whatever you did before you came here was what you had to do to survive, and may God bless every young woman faced with what ever you had to survive with the good fortune to find someone like Roy.”

“You don’t know,” Connie tried to turn away.

“I don’t need to know, nor do I care,” Lilia’s hold tightened. “I see you here and now, and you can’t hide your heart Constance.  You’re bright, funny and good.  Don’t you dare hide behind misfortune or let it define you.”

“The water’s boiled away,” Connie’s discomfort forced her to turn Lilia’s attention back to the cooking lesson.

Lilia laughed and took her new friend’s lead back to ordinary things.

“Great!” she laughed. “Now we let the meat release its juices.  We’ll add more water to the pan when we can press blood from the beef and we turn it once.  Caleb likes the center of his beef red, Roy likes it more so, we’ll make it for Roy today.”

In just a few more minutes after turning the meat, Lilia pressed the 5 inch slab of beef releasing more than a cup of pinkish and blood red liquid.  Once she did that she removed the meat from the pan and placed it into a deeper enameled roaster.

“More juices will come out after it’s been in the slow oven for a while, they’ll make the gravy richer, but let’s add water to this now & show you how Roy likes it.”

Lilia pumped a full two cups of water and added it to the large fry pan.  Stirring and scraping the bottom of the pan she let the water come to a simmer, then moved the pan off the hottest burner.  Next she spooned almost half the hot brown liquid into a bowl she’d placed on the stove top to warm up. 

“Here’s the hard part,” Lilia advised her focus now clearly on the work she was doing. 

She poured a half cup of cream into the hot beef juices and whipped the mix vigorously, then separated two eggs into another small container whipping the yolks to a soft froth.  She added scoops of flour to first the hot cream mixture which she whipped smooth, then she spooned some of the hot mixture into the egg yolks and added flour whisking the mix vigorously as she did. 

“The eggs and flour make the gravy a silky texture, but not if you let the eggs cook in the hot juices before you mix them in well or if you let the flour lump,” Lilia explained the rationale behind the steps she was demonstrating.  “The trick is to add only a little hot to the eggs a bit at a time as you whip them and make sure to smooth all the flour before you add more.”

“My mother didn’t use eggs, but she did that with four, thickened it in just some of the drippings,” Connie commented with interest.

“That’s really the key, or you end up with a runny mess full of lumps,” Lilia nodded.  “Caleb & Roy got spoiled though.  Someday I’ll tell you about Clarissa.  She was a monster, but she did know how to cook, and the men all raved about how good she was.  Some of us had to swallow her lessons like it or not. I’ll grudgingly admit she had skills and I’ve kept some of her lessons.”

Connie couldn’t help but smile.  No wonder of Mary & Lilia’s crimes so far seemed centered around Clarissa’s cooking.

“Why would you use recipes from a woman you despise Lilia?” Connie tried to mask her secret knowledge and use what Lilia had just shared to frame her question.

“Because even shrews are right sometimes,” Lilia grumbled.  “Funny, though,” she continued, “What works, works.  It’s a rare thing for bad memories to attach to the best things.  Clarissa’s not really a bad memory, just a challenge I survived.”  Then Lilia laughed heartily.  “She was a challenge we all survived!”

Connie elected to let Lilia’s disclosure drop there.  She’d need to read more of Mary’s journals to grasp her own sense of what Lilia just shared, and she was afraid that questions might betray that she knew more of Clarissa that she should.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oooooOOOOOOOooooo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caleb came in just as an early supper was ready for the table. 

“The barn’s set for winter,” he announced.

“Good,” Connie and Lilia answered in unison.

“Hope it meets Roy’s requirements,” Connie added with some mixed sass and worry.

“I expect it’ll exceed them.” Caleb chuckled.  “Seems I had to patch some spots on the west side after I finished the east side.”

Connie blushed.

Lilia just laughed.  “You two make a truce now!” she nudged her husband and her new friend.  “Sit down and eat.”

They did.

“Wish Roy was here to enjoy this,” Caleb marveled as he dipped into his gravy drowned mashed potatoes and inhaled the rich seasoned beef.

“No doubt he’s roasted a squirrel or rabbit and is letting the fat of their skin drip on his beard like the mountain man he’s turned into.” Lilia laughed.

“A small gift for a man making his living indeed,” Caleb flashed a warning to his wife.  “I’ll still wish him this additional pleasure when the time is right.”

Lilia closed her eyes and then spoke. “You are right Caleb.  My remark was unkind and glib.”

Connie felt the undercurrent.  Before her mind could censure her, she spoke.

“If its God’s will, Roy is enjoying and thankful for his supper tonight, and when he comes home I will try my best to give him one as bountiful as this one.  If either gets in his beard he’ll have to wash.”

Both Caleb and Lilia laughed heartily.  Connie was so fresh, so sweet and so spunky. They both knew that Roy had his hands full.  And now Lilia, having heard Connie’s unwitting disclosure about Mary’s visits in dreams, was confident that it was no accident.  Her own dreams were haunted by her long dead friend, and her own prayers had far too many times wished that Roy might find hope again.

“It’s God’s will,” Lilia smiled, then she changed gears instantly.

“Caleb will drag me off home as soon as he can tomorrow, shall I show you how to make pastries first?” she asked Connie.

“Oh please!” Connie pleaded to both Caleb and her new friend.  “I can do fritters, but pastries confound me and with the preserves you’ve brought I really could do with a lesson.”

Caleb growled, recognizing collusion and delay tactics when he saw them.  He was wrong this time though.  Lilia was offering a genuine gift, and Connie was doing nothing more than accept it.

“Don’t you women conspire,” Caleb gave voice to his suspicions.

“Please Sir,” Connie countered.  “I know how to make fritters, I know how to make biscuits, but I’ve never made bread, pies, or pastry.  I swear to you!”

“Caleb, my love,” Lilia leaned over to her husband. “We’ll make some dough, roll it, oil it and layer it three or four times, then we’ll put some preserves on the layers and fold it.” 

“That’s it?” Caleb asked, his skepticism was completely unhidden.

“Well I might tell Connie some things she should know about Roy, but if we’re so late leaving we get home after dark you can paddle me for lying to you.  All right?” Lilia offered.

Caleb chuckled.  “I suspect you’re both due a spanking just on principle. For now I’ll accept all promises.”  Then Caleb turned his attention to Connie.  “Promises and sass are two different things.  You keep that in mind, alright?”
Connie blushed and nodded.  Caleb’s strength of character was appealing, maybe more so than Royal’s was because he at least listened and let her get things off her chest.  For the moment at least, she’d said her piece and was content to just appreciate the recent turns in her life.

After supper, Connie implored her company to relax and let her see to the evening’s chores. It took some doing, but Lilia helped and Caleb relented.  He would help Lilia with dishes and let Connie see to settling the animals for the night and bringing in wood for the fire.

Bossy was very cooperative, there were eight eggs, and every beast offered their own version of thanks for their feed. 
Connie dropped to her knees as she sifted oats for the sow.  She didn’t get up to sniff and snuffle her feed as usual, she only looked up to snort, and Connie immediately saw why.  Twelve tiny pink creatures were nudging and punching the sow’s belly, suckling at their mother’s bounty. 

“Holy cow!” Connie whispered in awe as she stepped in the pen lifting the trough closer to the new mother.  “That’s quite a family you’ve got there.”   She picked up one of the piglets and held it to her chest sniffing its scent.  “Puppy breath!  You smell like a puppy!” Connie cuddled the tiny wriggling ball of muscle and strength.  The piglet’s breath smelled of mother’s milk.  Awe and sentiment let her go as soon as she gave the baby back to its mother.  It wasn’t just going to grow and wean, it was going to become supper someday. Maybe it might grow and survive to become a breeding sow, but that wasn’t likely on such a small spread.  Most stock was bred for food and that was the way of it.
Connie couldn’t believe that Roy didn’t know his largest pig was pregnant, and she was surprised he hadn’t warned her that the sow was so near her time.  What if there’d been problems? How could he keep that from her being as he’d left her to manage the place?

“Bet Caleb would let me give him a piece of my mind and see this my way,” Connie spoke to Royal’s permanent presence in his barn.  “You should have given me notice you old rat.”

Chores done, and more than enough wood piled into the leather tote, Connie stomped up onto the stoop and kicked out of her boots before entering the cabin. Instead of intruding on a private moment between Lilia and Caleb, she found Caleb snoozing in Roy’s Rocker and Lilia sitting on a pillow by the hearth sewing the clothes Roy had given her to make fit.

“Shhhhhh” Lilia warned pointing t her slumbering husband, her eyes glinting with her silent smile.

“The sow’s born a whole brood! Twelve since Caleb was in the barn!” Connie whispered.  “I’ve never seen such a wonder, and they smell like puppies!  What are you doing?”

“Shhhhhh!  I’m making what few of these dresses I have time to fit you.  I love it when stock animals give birth too.  It’s odd how the babies draw us so.  I’ve yet to smell a new born puppy, but I’ll trust your senses.” Lilia whispered.
“It’s the first milk.” Caleb’s sleep heavy voice intruded. “Every mammal carries that same smell on its breath until weeks after it’s weaned.  Kind of smells like coffee.”

“Yes!  It does!” Connie marveled.  “Milder, but no question it’s definitely the smell of coffee.”

“So, I’d say that’s a sign that one of you’d best get up and put some coffee on.” Caleb’s body stiffened in a wake up stretch.

“It’s near bed time husband,” Lilia objected.

“It’s going to be a late morning thanks to your promise to this imp.  I’ve had a good rest these last two hours.  Coffee will suit me just fine now.”

Connie was the one who tossed the burnt bark liquid from earlier in the day and scoured the pot for a fresh brew.  In doing so she noted that coffee was one provision that Roy might run short of before spring.  He had a sack of beans in his root cellar, but it seemed, so far at least, that use was going to swiftly exceed supply.

“Promise me you’ll be back here with more coffee before spring, and I’ll make you more now,” Connie issued an edict to Caleb.

“I’ve brought him more beef than he can use and given him hens he doesn’t need; why should I bring him coffee?” Caleb’s question was less than genuine.

“Because the coffee stores are low and you’re asking me to spend them on what amounts to little more than an evening’s indulgence.  I’ll make a full pot, you’ll drink a small heavily creamed and sugared taste and the rest will go to waste.”  Connie spoke calmly and matter of fact.
“Alright!” Caleb contained his annoyance. “Before the winter is over, I’ll bring coffee. You have my word.”

“Dunno if I can trust you Mr. Miller,” Connie grinned & Lilia laughed outright.
Caleb stood, took both women by their arms and delivered four very sound swats to each just where they belonged.

“Caleb!” Lilia complained.

“Hey?!” Connie’s objection was less sure.

“Behave yourselves!” Caleb closed one discussion and opened another.  “Remember the exploits you and Mary got up to Lil?  Why don’t you share them with Connie?

Connie’s heart swelled. “Yes, please do!”

Thanks to Caleb, the evening wasn’t as tortuous as Connie first thought it might be.  Instead of being the one forced to share her secret knowledge of Roy & Mary, her guests were the ones who spoke of them and shared fond memories.  She didn’t need Mary’s diaries after all that evening. Caleb & Lilia shared Mary and Roy with a richness and candor that Mary’s diaries only hinted at so far.

Having met them now, what more she read about them would be richer.  Lilia as it turned out was at least as boisterous and brazen as Mary, and Caleb seemed almost more human than Roy.  Roy spanked, Caleb did too, yet so far Caleb seemed more inclined to be reasoned with than Roy did.

After Caleb and Lilia took to Roy’s bed and closed the door, Connie managed to find enough energy and time to light the lamp so she could open Mary’s diary where she’d last closed it.   The written words were in fact richer now. Roy and Caleb didn’t just seem like ‘like minded’ men, their unique personalities came alive, and Lilia in particular had become far from a follower of Mary’s wayward ideas.  Connie marveled at the discovery.  It gave her much more insight into Mary to know that she was so protective of her friend even in her private diary.  It softened her in Connie’s mind. 

May 21, 1867
Oh!  It is only hours since I relaxed under the mistaken perception that I was a loved and trusted wife.  The way he warned me to behave myself this morning; the way Caleb warned Lilia!  In front of the whole camp!  It was wrong of him.  It was wrong of both of them.  Lilia is as angry as I am.  We will have more time to think tomorrow, because it seems we are likely to have to hold camp due to weather again. 
The strong winds from the south, even though they are warm, warn that more bad weather is approaching us from the north.  The older folks say they smell snow.  I trust their instincts now as they are always right. 
Please God don’t make us camp too long.  Please allow that the only storm I must cope with is the one in my heart….
 

 

Recent Events

Sunday, September 9th, 2007

She came in the front door, her shoulders soldier straight, her eyes closing as soon as she turned the lock willing the day behind her.  As soon as he touched her he sensed that his plan had to change.

The stress of a week of deadlines had been building a predictably prickly hedge around her and the thorns were not selective of those barbed – deserving or not, everyone who even tried to come close was subject to the barbs.  Before he left for work that morning after she’d told him to ‘f*** off’ over a simple suggestion, he’d warned her.  Shortly before noon she responded.

*******

“It’s bad honey.  I need you to spank me, really spank me,” she sobbed into the phone when he answered.

“Good for you sweetie,” he answered.   “We’ll take care of that tonight.”

“Hard?” her voice trembled.

“Hard,” he assured her.

“Thank you.”  Her words were barely audible, but there was an audible and palpable relief exchanged with them.

“I love you,” he answered affirming her trust.

But, now, as he wrapped his arms around her, tipped her chin up to greet his lips, he knew spanking was not in the cards tonight. 

********

For the last several weeks, work had begin approaching a nadir of distress for her.  Responsibilities added by turn over and change, added to by unforeseeable complications borne of having acquired skill with software by the seat of her pants without ever being allowed or offered the opportunity to be educated about its limitations & nuances, had hit the wall with a reprimand that was beyond unfair.  Predictably, she’d sucked it up and then dug in to the impossible task of mastering and grasping the things she couldn’t have known or anticipated and the complete absence of resources to help (which of course why she’d ended up self taught in the 1st place).  The certain knowledge that she was doomed to fail, would make mistakes no matter how meticulous she tried to be, simply due to volume, and still had to produce perfection had her spinning and feeling helpless.

She’d been feeling it bleed into her home life for days, and had to admit to herself that she felt significant relief when he issued his warning to her that morning.

As her day spiraled even further into the abyss and every effort met a barrier, she closed her office door, let tears borne of futility stream freely, and pulled on her resolve.  What mattered most?  What could she do to help herself cope?  Change her boss’ conflicting expectations of how she should direct her energies –meticulously at the details or globally at the 30, 000 foot view?  No.  She’d already realized that, that was just his mouth puppeting whatever pressures and expectations had trickled down from above him to produce his knee jerk.  No, this pressure was a cyclic fact of corporate life.  It was transient if stressful.  What was most important was home, the support system that gave her the strength and reserves to cope and even thrive doing what she did.

She knew what she had to do and after letting her tears flow and her resolve gel properly, she looked at the clock, assuring it was a good time, and picked up her phone.  Hence the phone call relayed above, that reverberated in her mind all day.

*******

Her anxieties were able to ease for an hour or so, but the pressures of the day escalated well beyond the walls of the usually significant island of calm that normally came of knowing that soon she would writhe through a cathartic release and find peace and perspective.  She was trembling when she locked her office door well after 7 PM (her normal quitting time was 5:30PM).  “I can’t do it tonight,” she sighed stepping down the back stairwell to the parking lot.

Pulling into the driveway, she had virtually no memory of the drive home, only of the anxious mixed feelings.  What she didn’t expect was his instincts, and now, as his arms and lips accomplished what no amount of thought centering yoga, meditation or self talk could have, she relaxed.

“Come let’s just be quiet for a while,” he tugged her wrist toward their bedroom.

“OK,” she sobbed.

“It’s been a rough few weeks hasn’t it?” he pulled her under his right arm, tight to him as he led her across the family room.

“I think this guy wants to wash me out this time honey,” her sobs turned to full blown heaving tears.  “One week he’s at me for being too wrapped in the details, the next I’m being crucified because a software problem produced a glitch that I never could have anticipated.  It’s a pure accident that I discovered it at all!  But it’s all my fault!”

“Tell me,” he soothed.

“She knew on Friday why we were doing this.  Her staff called her Saturday and Sunday with questions about why some stuff was missing and if we needed it all.  She KNEW why we were doing this!  She knew!  When I got that call Saturday did they ask me the most important question they had?  NO!  They asked the stupid question; the one where I had to apologize and direct that of course we need it all.  If there hadn’t been a big upheaval about what the whole thing was going to cost and a demand that I cull the numbers, but make sure that representative records got in, I never would have discovered that a whole subset of records – the most important subset -  was completely missing.”  She leaned hard into his side, holding him tightly. 

“Tell me.”

“She knew it honey!  She knew on Saturday and when her staff asked her and she told them to keep their mouths shut and just ask the stupid question.  Today, three days later, three days after the issue could have been corrected, the day we were supposed to ship everything, today when I asked the worker the question of why the primarily important things weren’t even on the list and now in the pile to be shipped, you know what I was told?  -  ‘Hey ma’am I only do what I’m told to do.”  So when I asked was she actually told not to ask me about what she knew was missing, she just shrugged and tried to get away.  Why would her boss do that to me?  She knew the purpose of this project!  She had even more than peripheral knowledge of it!   Imagine if the whole job had been sent out for the whole cost unquestioned and the results came back with nothing for the primary subject of the review?!  How could she tell her staff to keep their mouths shut about a detail that she knew was wrong?  Even if she didn’t know it was a software issue not my error, how could she just let a significantly expensive project go forward with so much waste involved without allowing the critical question to be asked?  How could she?”

“Ask her,” his response was so male. 

It made her elbow him, smile and giggle.  “Damned right I will ask.  Piss everyone off even more.”  She knew the smoke screen.

“I think we need something a bit gentler than spanking tonight, ok?” he lifted her face to his and kissed her.

“Ok?” she kissed him back, though her eyes stayed focused on his looking for a hint of his plan.

“You’re wired and trembling, and everything behind it is real.  I could whip you to submission, but I’d rather ground you.  Will you trust me?” he nuzzled he neck and began working her blouse and bra off.

She felt instant security.  Though the sobs and tears that flowed freer now made the front of his shirt slick and wet, it was all good.

She found herself being made nude, helping her husband achieve the same state while the bathtub filled.  Filling the tub took some time, perfect for assuring both were together with all distractions excluded.  Their connection became just them.

Scrubbing each other was cleansing, and though he lifted her around to mount him, her pussy slipping fully onto him wet and slick from both suds and her body’s natural needy lubricant, he had another plan.  He allowed just a few blissful rocking thrusts before lifting her up and helping both stand.  Towel sheets roughed off external water and then their mattress and sheets took on the remaining cleansing dew.

“I love you!” he grinned roughly spreading her thighs.  “You’re brilliant!” his mouth took her vulva.  “You’re mine,” his tongue spread her lips, found the slick juices that made him chuckle with the knowledge that she was equally his, that he didn’t need her words.

Gently he used his tongue to collect and spread her sexy dew between the lips that belonged to her very deepest and primal needs.  His tongue and teeth took care to ease her to a place where only they existed.

When he felt the tell tale gripping of her thighs and feet around his neck and upper back, he fully lapped her clit with his flat tongue, then tensed and pressed the back of it over and back across the top of her swollen hard clit.  

“Wait!” he teased as he took her to the edge.

“Hmmmmm!  Please?” she panted.  Her mind wanted nothing more than a long protracted period of bliss, her body might have other plans on her though.  

A deep repetitive probing of her cunt by his tongue followed by warm silken stroking up and down the sensitive tissues between both sides of her pussy and then several breathy hot flicks of her clit nearly took her climax, but he blessed her with what seemed like an anatomically impossible sudden penetration of his thick long cock.

They both gasped feeling the thrust take them too close to their finish.

He stopped once fully seated and ground her slick entrance, and she panted to hold back the loss of senses that might rob her of release with him.

“Fuck me!” she gasped.

“Love you 1st?” he bit her left ear knowing that for them there was virtually no gap.

“Yes please!” she whimpered, tears from earlier threatened.

And he did.  He fucked her.  She came fast, her body taken far outside her mind’s inhibitions into a safer place.   She came again, crying out simply from primal appreciation, and she came last even harder just after he did, her last blissful contractions milking his.

******

Perfection would have shut all stress out, but it didn’t.  

Supper was calm though.  Some things she’d been keeping secret were out now as they should be.   The distress she’d been experiencing was now on the table.  Legitimacy  between them wasn’t even part of the equation.  It was.  It’s easiest for them when worry was irrelevant.  This time it wasn’t.

******

Come morning, in the hope that a physical and more substantive memory might help her with public peace, he pulled her awake across his lap. “Bend over Patty,” he commanded as soon as she tried to get up.

“You still need this?” he asked after his hand exploded on her bare bottom 4 times.

“Yes,” she croaked, sleep had not let go of her body, though her needs had been with her all night through dreams.  

100’s of sound whaps burned her bottom.  She had to go to work, if he made her bloody there’d be a problem yet that seemed to be his goal.  

“It wasn’t all my fault!” she cried.  

“Partly?”  he whapped her very hard.

“If I’d had fair training and even if I had the experts didn’t see it coming either!”  she tried putting her hands in the way to milk that last verbal comfort.  The truth made its way into his heart, but it didn’t soften this approach.

He spanked her too hard and had her crying inconsolably.  No amount of begging, negotiating or recrimination had any effect on his effort. 

She needed it.  Se really needed it

_______________

Wired for Spanking

Thursday, June 7th, 2007

Wired for spanking
© June 2007, by patty

“Go to the bedroom!” he spoke as soon as her expression told him she knew he was there.

“Why!?” her heart lurched and panic tumbled deep in her belly when her eyes locked with his and everything melded – his expression the tone of his voice, the set of his  jaw, and much more meaningful his stern aura -  she knew that he knew.

“Don’t,” he warned. 

“What did I do?” she couldn’t help the ego protective reflex plea.

“If you make me tell you, so help me honey, you will not sit for a week!”

She stood still her mind racing over excuses, her heart pounding, her psyche fighting for rescue all the while, her being was already letting the fact of discovery and the established dance of consequences seep into her reality.

“Please?” her body bowed – knees weak, arms stretched forward, hands open reaching for his. “I was going to tell you.”

“You’ve had three weeks to do that.  Go to the bedroom!”

“I’m sorry!” she whispered turning to obey.  She felt the desperate, cloying insincerity of her own words, and couldn’t look back.  If she’d seen that in his eyes the way she felt it in her heart, she would crush her own will and that was not the goal, nor was it allowed with what was to come.

“Put the strap and lathe paddle on the bed and you think about what you have to tell me.  I still have to cool off before I deal with this.” 

She both heard and felt his conflicted mixture of firm resolve, disappointed anger and worry that balance might fail him.  Her heart wanted to reach out to reassure him, but she was muzzled by her ego.  It was one of the most unfair and difficult realities about the DD lifestyle and it associated vows/promises/commitments they’d made.  When the reality of accountability loomed, the churning quagmire of emotion afflicted both. 

She left him alone in the kitchen and went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her, she leaned on it and let silent tears stream down her cheeks.  “Why do I do this crap?” she sobbed.

She knew she should have called and told him she was going to spend 1277 dollars before she spent it.  He might have argued initially, but she knew he would have agreed with her given the pragmatism of her reasons for the expense.  If she’d just done that, THIS would not be happening. The fact was, she’d made a unilateral decision to make a large dollar expenditure during a period when they were working on an accelerated pay off plan and every spare dollar was allocated.  She’d forgotten to amend the pre-authorized payments to two credit cards, and because of it, both payments bounced, accrued late and NSF fees.  She’d also kept all of it to herself, hoping she could clean it up before he noticed.

The money issue, while stressful wasn’t what she knew she had to answer for.  It was trust first and foremost – trust that he would have heard her out about the ultimate practically of her choice, and even failing that  – trust that he’d be fair if she’d told him about the credit cards and fees instead of waiting for him to find out on his own.   All hopes of evasion not withstanding, the truths of her deceit cut her to the bone, she both feared and grieved what he must feel.

***********

It was almost a hour before he opened the door to find his beloved curled up in the rocking chair, her tear stained face looking at the paddle and strap dutifully placed out on the bed as directed.  He both saw and felt her startle when he pushed the door open.  He’d put away his anger, though none of his firm resolve was yet lost.  Still, the spontaneously endearingly accepting posture and expression that he saw, almost melted that resolve.

She unwittingly restored it.

“I’m sorry!” her whisper choked with everything they both felt.

“Pant’s down,” he picked up the paddle and sat on the side of the bed.

“Honey please, hear me out?” she made a plea for discussion. 

“We’re going to hear each other out right now.  Bare your bottom and bend yourself over my lap now!”

“I wanted to tell you, I promise” she resisted and backed away, leaning against the again closed bedroom door, hoping against hope for rescue or reprieve.

“You didn’t though did you!  That’s what we’re dealing with now.  If we need to put the money on the table and deal with that, we’ll do it later.  Right now we’ve got more important issues to deal with.  Agreed?” his expression was soft, welcoming yet firm.   He sat there on the side of their bed with the long cruel lathe paddle in hand.  Worse, he sat on her side of the bed, meaning her legs would be trapped by furniture.  Even worse he’d spread his thighs expecting her to lean over only his left thigh – leaving his right leg to trap her legs more than furniture could. 

“Please!” she shook her head in a helpless no that begged for reprieve, yet she took the requisite steps to him, and after locking eyes with him looking for his love and finding it, she pulled down her sweatpants and panties.  Baring her bottom, she bent over across his thigh, her hands immediately gripping his ankle and the linens on the side of the bed.

He spanked her hard and fast, eliciting begging, pleas and promises within barely minutes.  He didn’t acknowledge a one, easing up and giving her a break well after her cries, promises and body language told him she needed one. 

He let her sob out pleas and promises with only one response … “Why didn’t you trust me?”

“I do!” she cried with only the desperate ego protective obstinate denial that was immediately possible.  Her resistance then briefly ignited a transient self loathing which was quickly followed by relief and acceptance.

“I’m sorry!  I should have told you I was going to spend the money.  It was an impulse.  When I realized I forgot about the prearranged stuff going NSF I should have told you then” she sobbed, her bottom throbbed, the fire close to beyond her tolerance.

“That’s better,” he acknowledged, delivering a good ten more solid whaps.  “Are we finished here?”

She struggled with her answer she knew if she said yes it would be over.  Physically she wanted it to be over.  Emotionally, though, she sensed that neither of them had achieved closure, and while that was not always required between them when spanking was invoked as a consequence, in this case, the degree of betrayal of trust called for it.

He patiently waited out her indecision, letting her sob through resolution.

“No,” she finally whispered.

“Tell me honey,” he stroked her back up between her shoulders, his tone filled with reassurance.

“Please use the strap until you decide it’s enough.”

“Up you get over the bed then,” he set the paddle aside and retrieved the strap from the mattress beside them and helped her stand in front of him.  When she was fully upright their eyes locked again. His smile further assured her that what would follow, while difficult, was going to be exactly what they both needed to put away all residue of the interpersonal injury caused by her deceit.  He stood with her pulling her to him in a gentle embrace.  They lingered with a kiss for a moment before returning to what remained to be done. 

“Put the pillows here and get over,” he patted the bed where he wanted her bottom placed.

She trembled, and did as she was told, gathering both of their pillows to the mid point of her side of the bed and climbing up over them so that her already crimson bare bottom was perched high and ready for the full swing of the strap.  Clutching the comforter, she braced herself for what she knew was going to challenge her endurance and take her to the edge of her commitment to this brand of discipline.

“Why are you here?” he asked the mandated question.

“Because I threatened the trust between us,” her voice was strong with this answer.  “By trusting you to finish this I’m showing you I can be trusted again too.”

“Good girl” his voice was gentle, a fact that was instantly contradicted by the searing first impact of the leather across her bottom.

She couldn’t help the cry that escaped her or the many that followed in rapid succession as he brought the strap down again and again.  It wasn’t long before first one hand and then the other moved back in futile attempts to protect her scalding bottom.  Each was fleeting as she quickly responded to his firm yet patient pause, “move your hand or I’ll start over.”

Finally after what felt like eternity but was only a matter of minutes, she felt his cadence pick up to the fury that signaled the worst and the end of it.  The intensity caused her to pull the bedding around her face to choke off what might otherwise have been screams.

And then it was over, and her body released all tension as she sobbed into the linen.  In a moment he was reclined next to her rolling her into his embrace, stroking her hair and face with one hand as he pulled her to him with the other.  They remained quietly and lovingly entwined for a good twenty minutes until their urgent need to reconnect with a different intimacy took over. 

Breaking their embrace only long enough to remove clothing, they came together again, warm and needful flesh against flesh.  She gasped with the first thrust of penetration, grateful for the sensation of being filled with him and being back safely in his possession.  Both crested quickly spending every ounce of the lingering energy already almost exhausted by the sound and thoroughly effective spanking; taken together by the bliss of shared climax.

“I love you,” was whispered back and forth before sleep claimed them. 

Several hours later both woke to a renewed urgent need which was answered by a slower gentler more protracted bliss, and then sleep came again holding them until the dawn of another the next day which both entered with a sense of renewal and calm.

Movies in the Park

Saturday, June 2nd, 2007

copyright June 1, 2007, By Maggie O Dear 

Lynda gave the set of instructions to the babysitter for the last time as Michael grabbed the picnic basket, backpack / cooler, and blanket as they headed out the door. “You only need to tell her once or twice about bath and bedtimes, Honey, not fifty!” Michael laughed at Lynda’s exasperated glare. The sun was just setting, hovering over the treetops. Lynda loved these weekly date nights at the outdoor movies the local theater district had set up along the greenbelt on the river running through downtown. It was like being in the middle of the country inside the city. Most nights it was a family date, but Lynda opted for a sitter since it was Michael’s birthday and the kids wouldn’t care for Casablanca anyway. She smiled to herself thinking of the surprise that would be waiting for him when they arrived. It had taken awhile to get most of their friends and family together, and a lot of planning for food and drinks. Her brow slightly furrowed as she glanced at Michael. He’s not a fan of surprises, but he’d love this, she thought.They arrived just as the sun was giving its final glow and disappeared behind the skyscrapers. They found a parking space and unloaded the picnic basket, blanket and bottles of wine, making their way toward the theater area. Lynda spotted Jeff and Amy and a few others as they were claiming their space out to the side, but close enough in to see the screen. Michael looked surprised to see Jeff and Amy out. It was very rarely that they ventured outside of their little cul-de -sac. Lynda saw Michael’s look and giggled. The others Lynda had invited began arriving and congregating around their little spot, all carrying munchies and drinks and a few unexplained bags.

Michael noticed there were too many people they knew in the immediate area for it to be a coincidence. He looked over his shoulder at Lynda with his right eyebrow cocked. Oh God how she hated that look. The back of her neck and shoulders stiffened for a brief moment. She busied herself laying out blankets and arranging the drinks and snacks so they’d be at hand. She and Amy made small talk and giggled at how easy it had been to get Michael and Jeff to fall for this little birthday surprise. Inside, they were both thinking that maybe a surprise might not have been the best idea. Their eyes locked and the chitchat halted.

Michael came up behind Lynda and touched her on the shoulder. Touch might not be the right way to describe the noticeable pressure she felt as he pulled her face in close to his mouth. “Come with me. We’ll take a little walk down the river and be back just as the movie starts.”

Amy stepped out of earshot and sighed as she watched Michael and Lynda head off into the dark. Maybe Jeff didn’t notice, she prayed.

Lynda noticed the backpack Michael had slung over his shoulder. He offered her one of the two bottles of ice water he had picked up. His wife popped the cap off the bottle and stopped to take a deep drink of the cold water. He let her take what she wanted before grabbing her hand and leading her on down the river walk.

“We’ve been through this before, Lynda. Why would you think that tonight would be any different just because it’s my birthday?”

She had no answer for a minute. Taking a deep breath she said, “I thought it would be nice for all of our friends and family to celebrate your birthday. It’s not often that we can get everyone together and the more people I talked to the more we all agreed that a surprise party would be nice.”

“Bzzzzzzt, wrong!” Michael said, shaking his head. “I’m pretty sure you and Amy cooked this one up together. You’ve done it before and it has yours and Amy’s names written all over it.”

“But, Michael…”

Michael tightened his grip on her arm and led her off the walkway down behind some trees, that at the moment seemed as if they had been planted there for his specific purpose. They provided the perfect screen from all the movie goers and were far enough away from the seating area but close enough to the interstate running overhead, that imminent noise wouldn’t be a factor. One of the trees was said to be over 150 years old. A stately, mighty oak, perfect for the task at hand. The thick, low hanging branches were the perfect height for his wife to comfortably hold on to during his surprise for her.

the perfect screen from all the movie goers and were far enough away from the seating area but close enough to the interstate running overhead, that imminent noise wouldn’t be a factor. One of the trees was said to be over 150 years old. A stately, mighty oak, perfect for the task at hand. The thick, low hanging branches were the perfect height for his wife to comfortably hold on to during his for her.the perfect screen from all the movie goers and were far enough away from the seating area but close enough to the interstate running overhead, that imminent noise wouldn’t be a factor. One of the trees was said to be over 150 years old. A stately, mighty oak, perfect for the task at hand. The thick, low hanging branches were the perfect height for his wife to comfortably hold on to during his for her.”I really didn’t th…” she was stopped before she could complete the sentence.

“Right, you didn’t think.” He dropped the backpack on the grass at the trunk of the tree. Kneeling down, he unzipped the bag and pulled out his favorite paddle and her least favorite hairbrush, sitting them next to where she was standing. It seemed as if she had automatically stood right where she needed to be. He put his hand up between her should blades and only had to apply a little pressure to get her to lay herself over the hefty branch.

“Michael, please not here.” Lynda whispered, hoping he would be lenient and let it go. “Everyone will see and hear!”

“No, Lynda, we’re far enough away and the traffic will drown out any noises you find it necessary to make. Bend over here and stay.”

Lynda complied with his orders. She smartly deduced that he was not the least bit happy and any more pleading would only make everything worse.

“How old am I today, Lynda?”

“Forty-four.” she faintly answered.

“Okay then, forty-four to start. How many people did you and Amy decide I wanted at my birthday surprise gathering?”

“Michael, that’s not fair!” She started to stand up but the snap of the paddle on his thigh changed her mind. “Fourteen, besides you and me.”

“Pull your panties down to the middle of your thighs and lift your dress up around your waist.”

Lynda did as she was told, but realized the she would have to hold her knees together to keep her panties from falling to the ground, in turn making her bottom that much more of a target. The last thing she would want on her soon to be very sore rear end were ants or spiders or any creepy-crawly things to hitch a ride inside her panties. Having to keep this position, she found her bottom sticking out further which only brought hot tears to her eyes before Michael even got into position.

“You’ll get forty-four with my best paddle and you’ll take the other sixteen, yes I’m including you and myself in this, with your favorite brush!”

Lynda winced at the thought of both the paddle and the hairbrush. It was sudden, the whoosh of the paddle pushing through the air and the sharp, sharp sting as the first strike was landed. She blinked her eyes and focused on a shrub in the near-by darkness. Over and over they landed. The same spot. Different spots. Full across her fiery bottom. Straight across that agonizing area where her bottom creased into her upper thighs. She tried to keep from yelling out, but wasn’t always successful. Michael hadn’t spanked her like this in many months. Lynda’s head was spinning from the fire across her ass and the thoughts reeling in her mind that everyone would know what was happening.

 

 

Just as suddenly the stinging blows stopped. Michael ran his hands over and around her deep red bottom. The heat from her seemed to cause a glow in the darkness around them. His warm hands on her bottom pushed the heat down between her thighs. Lynda’s head fought to only think of one feeling. It was almost too much to acknowledge her stinging ass and her quivering pussy at the same time. Each one feeding off the other.

“We’re almost done. We’ll just finish up now and then we can go and enjoy the movie.”

Lynda’s knees nearly buckled. “I’m sorry, Michael. I knew I shouldn’t have planned your birthday like this. It just go…”

“Stop! I don’t want to hear the excuses!” He pressed her torso back over the branch.

“But .. It just got out…” She tried to hurry and finish her thought.

“Hush!” The first slap of the brush landed full on her round bottom.

“Itjustgotoutofhandbeforeweknewit!” She sputtered to finish this time.

“I said I don’t want to hear the excuses, Lynda! You’ll get five more before we’re through here.”

By the time the fourth, fifth, sixth blows landed Lynda was sobbing. The lightning hot strokes just kept coming down. Tears were falling onto her sandled feet. She realized too late that her panties had fallen to the ground. Her thoughts were spinning between the tears on her feet and the panties and ants on the ground and the serious fire scorching her ass.

Michael set the brush next to the paddle and backpack. He stood next to his wife, rubbing his hand across her warm bottom. Squeezing each cheek with loving affection. His fingers wandered between her thighs, her lips swollen and wet. He let his finger slide in and out of her slippery pussy. In. Pressing inside of her. Out. In and press. Her muscles clenching around his finger hoping to hold him inside of her. He withdrew from her and landed one final slap on her bottom and gave both cheeks a firm squeeze filled with his craving for her.

“Come here, baby. Stand up and let’s get you straightened up.”

Lynda brushed her dressed back down around her searing bottom and shivered as she thought about the creepy-crawlies that could be all around her. Michael seemed to have read her mind and picked up the panties, dusted them off and put them in his pocket.

“See, now you won’t have to worry about the ants or your panties touching your bottom.” He smiled at her and put both arms around her. She buried her face into his chest and choked by the sobs, turning into small little hiccups as they finally subsided. “I’m sorry Michael, no more surprises without your permission first.” They giggled at the irony of her statement.

Her tears dried, they gathered everything up and walked back towards the theater area. They noticed two people walking towards them on the path. Oh lord, please don’t let them know what happened, Lynda thought. Ohgod, too late!

Michael and Lynda passed Jeff and Amy on the walkway. Amy and Lynda dropped their eyes to the ground as Michael tossed the backpack in Jeff’s direction. “Here, you might need this! There’s water and other uhhh, other stuff inside.” He landed a couple of playful swats on Lynda’s tender bottom and nodded at Jeff.

“You know baby, next time we’re here that low hanging limb back there would also put you in a good position for a little different type of fun!” Michael said into her neck as he pulled his wife up next to him and laughed.

Jeff smiled. Amy shuddered.

 

______________________________________________________

 

Such great stories…. Thanks ya’ll for joining in.  I’ve enjoyed it.  Hope you have too.  We’ll see if anything else comes in.  ;)

 

 

Stripping the Willow

Friday, June 1st, 2007

Stripping the Willow.

An Oriental Fantasy.

© May 31, 2007, by Paul

The Emir reclined in his Chair of State; he was a man of late middle age with wise brown eyes and many laughter lines. His beard was full and streaked with grey; he was sipping a sherbet.

There was a stir and much murmuring at the audience hall door. A plump nay fat chamberlain hurried forward and bowing low, said, “mighty lord your Vizier seeks audience”, the Emir raised his hand and beckoned, the chamberlain still bowing and stepping backwards signed to the door warden to admit the Vizier.

The Vizier, a frail old man of many summers advanced, supporting himself with his staff of office, in a surprisingly strong voice he said, “may I approach o mighty lord”, the Emir who loved this old man said, “come forward o fount of wisdom and support of my throne”. The Vizier approached close to the Emir, because the Vizier was as a second father to the Emir, he was allowed privileges given only to equals.

Speaking in a much softer voice he said, “my prince, knowest thou that thy favourite wife, the Princess Willow hath 25 years this very day”. “Hath she indeed”, said the Emir. “Hmm, what doest thou advise”. “My prince thou knowest that thy Willow loves thee greatly and mourns that affairs of state keeps her from thee. Grant her the privilege of entertaining thee in a manner of her choosing”. The Emir, with a smile, clapped his hands and said, “let this be done”. The Vizier left the audience hall after instructing the chamberlain to clear the hall as the Princess will be unveiled. He walked to the Emirs harem knocked at the entrance; a wicket in the door opened and the Harem mistress looked out, sees the Vizier and instructs the slaves to open the door.
The Vizier enters and says to the Harem mistress, “our high and mighty lord desires the presence of the Princess Willow, lead me to her”. The Harem mistress bows her acquiescence, turns and leads the way to an inner chamber, there she despatches another slave to inform the Princess that her Uncle the Vizier wishes to see her.The Princess hurries out, as she hopes that the Vizier bears a message from the Emir her husband.  “What news hast thou mine Uncle”, she asks looking rather nervous. “The Prince your husband graciously awaits your presence and the diverse entertainments that you offer”.
“Now tell thou to me niece, the nature of the diverse beguilement that you offer your sovereign lord”. “I will enter the audience hall with mine attendants and musicians in the blind gallery, I will dance while mine attendants remove mine garments with their whips, leaving mine skin unblemished”. “Hmm”, quoth the Vizier, “and the next”. “The dance continues the attendants change their whips for Dragons Tail, heavy straps with a six inch slit at one end, (used to punish concubines and bad wives), the straps will be used on my back, buttocks and thighs until I collapse in supplication before my prince”. The Princess, Vizier and attendants arrived at the entrance to the audience hall; an imperious gesture from the Princess, backed by a nod from the Vizier and the door wardens opened the hall doors.As the princess and attendants entered the hall the musicians struck up and the Princess began to undulate to the music. The attendant quickly collected their whips and dragon tails and formed a circle round the Princess, the hall doors are closed.

The Princess is wearing many coloured veils and under them a simple silk shift.

The Princess began to dance in a most provocative manner, as she danced, her attendants brought their whips into play, each strike removing a veil, after ten minutes the only garment left was the shift. The Princess is a beauty after the manner of her time, dark haired, pale complexion, lithe yet nicely plump. Beneath her shift could be seen her luxuriant bush, it was obvious that she was excited. The music rose to a crescendo, the Princess spun faster and faster, as she reached her limit two whip lashes snaked out and ripped off the shift, she slowly spun to a halt, she was only clothed in her hair, the Emir was clearly enchanted.

After a pause to allow the Princess to regain her breath and her attendants to change their whips for dragon tails, the music recommenced, slower and quieter this time.

Princess Willow started to dance round the circle weaving between the attendants, each time that she passed in front of an attendant she received a firm stroke of the dragons tail on her back, buttocks, thighs or belly, each stroke could be clearly heard over the music.  As the dance continues the Princess’s body became redder and redder, she was shaking, panting and perspiring. After the third round as she passed before the Emir he raised his hand and beckoned, the music slowed and the Princess approached her lord and master, casting herself to the floor, she said, “have I pleased you O Sun of my life”, “verily you have, O Moon of my Delight, name your desire”, “only to pleasure you more and Allah willing to give you a son”.

The Emir smiled, turned to his Vizier. “I will do no more business this day, this audience is ended”. The Vizier beckoned and two attendants placed a robe around the Princess, striking a gong with his staff the Vizier had the hall cleared and was the last to leave.

The Emir raised a shaky Willow to her feet and led her to his private divan. Closing the door behind her Willow beheld a chamber of great luxury. Willow was uncertain what to do, the Emir removed the robe and once again Willow was naked before her lord.

The Emir looked at Willow, “verily it hath escaped me, how bounteously Allah hath made thee, thy body and especially thine arse, indeed, are glorious to behold”. “If thou O Emir, second only to the great Salomon in judgement and wisdom, finds that I please thine eye, then whilst thou use thine handmaiden for thy pleasure”. “Indeed that shall be my will, at great length and to thine utter exhaustion”.  

Leading Willow to a cushioned divan the Emir removed his outer clothing leaving only a loincloth, sitting down the Emir placed Willow over his lap with her body and legs resting on the cushions. It was immediately obvious to Willow that the Emir was quite excited, she hoped that he would not spend too much time on her arse. The Emir began to stroke Willows cheeks and slip his hand between them to feel her puckered rose and pussy. Soon his hand began to fall with weight and shortly he was building a fire in Willows arse, Willow was getting more and more excited and her pussy was dripping, this did not escape the Emirs notice, he stopped and placed Willow seated on his lap, “thou hast thy five and twentieth year this day”, “that is verily so O Sun of my Heart”. “As is our custom thou must take a birthday spanking from my hand, fetch thou that dragons tail, kneel thou on my bed, place thy head upon the cover, raise thine arse well up and open thy thighs that all may be revealed”.

“Canst thou count the number of thy years”; “I will endeavour to do so”.  The Emir raised the strap and laid it hard on the crown of Willows arse,

“Ouch, one master, oh, two master, three master, four master”, Willow began to sway her arse as the pain built up, by the twelfths stroke Willow was crying, by the twentieth stroke Willow was screaming, “o Allah help me, twenty master”, by the twenty-fifth stroke her nose was running, tears were pouring out of her eyes and she was panting and she was so hot, “take me master, take me now”!!!!

The Emir loosed his loincloth releasing his rampant prick, placing it at the entrance of Willows so ready pussy, with one hard push he entered Willow fully, within three strokes

 Willow was screaming out her first orgasm, the first of many, the Emir was in no hurry, every so often he reheated Willows arse with his hands, at one point Willow screamed out, “O master thou art built as a veritable stallion”, at this the Emir increased his speed and playing with Willows clit brought Willow to her biggest orgasm and pumped her full.Willow fell flat on her face as the Emir withdrew. Taking a bowl and cloth the Emir cleaned Willows face, as Willow recovered she looked worshipfully at her lord and master. “Thou art wonderful o my wife and my greatest treasure, now clean me up I would have thee again”. The Emir placed his prick in Willows mouth and she eagerly complied, so the night continued, till dawn broke. The end
Paul
 

Image significantly altered though adapted from and inspired by a series posted at Spanking Couple

An Impossible Night

Thursday, May 31st, 2007

AN IMPOSSIBLE NIGHT

copyright May 29, 2007, by emmy

It was an impossible night. Heaviest rain Althea had ever seen. The canyon road was obliterated by the torrential downpour enveloping the car as she snaked her way down to the town below. It was so bad that the wipers had almost no chance against the beating water.

“Damn” Althea spat under her breath, “I can’t be late for this, I just can’t” She pressed her toe down on the accelerator as far as she dared. It was her 25th birthday and Tom had been hinting at having the surprise of her life planned for her. She loved his simple loving nature.

Tom would be early, he always was. Althea knew his ways and really tried to be on time, early even but more often than not something delayed her nearly every time she had to meet him.

Tom had proposed to Althea three months ago. A beautiful diamond gleamed up at her as she gripped the wheel. Tom planned this dinner four weeks ago, choosing the restaurant, menu and wine with great care. He made the reservations to get the perfect table just to the left of the large fireplace at the inn. Althea knew how important this was to him. “Damn.”

It was impossible to see the pick up diagonally stopped in the road. Althea slammed on the breaks and swerved right to avoid hitting the truck but skidded to a stop hitting the guard rail on the right side of the road. Because she was trying not to crush her beautiful black silk dress Althea did not have her seat belt fastened. When the car hit the rail she was thrown into the windshield and steering wheel.

Slumped over in the front seat Althea slowly lost consciousness. “It seems so dark and hazy” here she thought. Getting out of the car she said aloud, “Where exactly am I.” Nothing looked familiar. “That’s odd; the rain has stopped so suddenly.” Also she had been traveling the canyon road all her life and “that house was definitely never there before. Better call for help.”

It was a cottage really with a beautiful front garden and white gate shining in the misty moonlight. The gate squeaked as she made her way to the front door. Night blooming flowers perfumed the air. She pounded lightly with the gleaming brass door knocker. A shuffle from within told her someone was coming to the door.

Althea gasped when the door swung aside and Tom’s wide grin greeted her. “Hi honey happy birthday.” He took her hand and led her inside where a warm fire was crackling in the fireplace.

He had soft music playing and a light supper laid out on a side table. Althea could still smell the scent of the garden wafting in through the open window, curtains shifting softly in the night air.

Tom sat her on the large comfy sofa and offered her some fruit from the table of food. It tasted sweet and wonderful. Althea started to apologize for being late but he stopped her in mid sentence. “We can discuss that at another time, this is really about your birthday you know.” He offered her some more food and settled back with her to eat. In addition to the fruit there were cheeses and crackers, cold chicken and small toast points.

The food and the warm fire lulled Althea into a dreamy state so when Tom suggested she go upstairs to the bedroom she complied willingly. Tom followed her closely as she ascended the winding staircase. She could hear him breathing behind her. A shiver went down her body in anticipation of the lovemaking she knew was to follow.

The entire hectic day seemed to catch up with her as she stood in the center of the cozy bedroom. Tom undressed her allowing her black dress and slip to fall to the floor at her feet. Next the black lace bra and panties along with the black stockings and garter belt. He picked her up and carried her to the bed, it felt so soft. She could hear Tom removing his shirt and shoes. The sound of him unbuckling his belt always caused a quickening in her groin. She shivered as he drew it from the loops around his waist, placed it, doubled over, on the night table and removed his jeans.

As he sat on the edge of the bed he motioned for her to come to him. Althea rolled herself to him and winding her arms about his neck and torso accepted his deep loving kiss with pleasure. Without a word he pulled her over his knee. Even though Tom had spanked her many times before Althea hesitated causing him to pull her with a heavier hand landing her with force face down over his lap.

“Don’t worry Baby” he cooed “it’s just your birthday spanking. You will get 25 of my best with one for good measure.” His strong hand kneaded and caressed her backside as he talked. As his legs trapped hers so she couldn’t shift away he drew her free hand into the small of her back holding it with his left hand.

Whack, “One” he said. Harder than she remembered. Whack, “Two” Harder still. Whack, Whack, Whack. Three four and five came in hard rapid succession. Not what she expected but the agreement was that Tom was completely in charge of her spankings. He paused after 10 to slip his hand down between her legs sliding his fingers into her slippery wetness.

The next five brought a tear to her eye, then Tom stood her on her feet and led her to the end of the bed and laying down a pillow pushed her down over the foot board. Tom spread her legs so that her toes barely touched the floor. She waited in docile anticipation for the next stroke of his hand. Then she heard it.

 

The clink of the buckle on his belt. It would be the first time Tom had spanked her with anything but his hand. Althea shivered as she gripped the soft quilt with both fists.

This first stroke was the most painful thing Althea ever felt at the hand of her beloved. It spread out over her already sore bottom like wild fire. “Sixteen” Tom reminded. She gasped with horror now remembering how many more were coming to her.

At 23 she felt her body succumbing to the throws of orgasm. It was difficult but she held out taking the last three strokes before letting herself go with it. He took her from behind enjoying the heat of her recently warmed bottom and pulsating orgasm. His hard strong shaft fully entering her again and again bringing on a second orgasm as he pushes into her as far as he can at his moment of release.

It seems like hours before they are able to move again. He picks her up and lays her on the bed, “Happy Birthday darling.” He whispers to her as he tucks her in. “Sleep” she mumbles as he slides into bed behind her, feeling his strong arms surround her she drifts away.

“Must be morning already” as what seemed the like the ringing of her alarm clock changed to a siren like yowl. The bed was moving. Tom was talking to her but she couldn’t make out his words that sounded tinny and then faded away again.

“Daylight, whiteness, can’t move” were her first thoughts. “The cottage and Tom where is Tom.” Althea felt the beginnings of panic grip her as she came to in very unfamiliar surroundings. “Well good morning girl” A cheerful red faced woman in a pink smock scurried in with a vase of flowers. “Welcome back. I’ll get your nurse, and maybe that handsome fella that’s been hanging around here underfoot all night.”

Althea was told of her accident on the canyon road the night before. “You’re lucky to be alive young woman.” The doctor told her at mid morning. “Concussion, light bruising two cracked ribs, you can go home tomorrow providing you do what you are told today” the doctor warned before he left. But where was Tom Althea wondered. She could not for the life of her remember her accident but the Cottage and her birthday spanking were clear as day.

It was 12:30 when Tom strode in. He had gone home to shower and change out of his suit that was ruined from the rain. He looked stern but relieved that she was ok. He placed a loving kiss on her forehead and large manila envelope on the bed beside her. “What’s this” she said picking up the envelope and turning it over.

Tom said, “Open it”. Inside was a beautifully drawn picture and brochure. Althea turned white. “That’s it,” she gasped, “The cottage.” What are you talking about Al? That’s your birthday present. I signed the papers last week. It’s our new home.”

Althea told Tom about what happened the night before at that very cottage and how she had no recollection of the accident. Tom assured her there was no birthday spanking delivered by him last night anywhere and definitely not at their new cottage, however, when she got well she could expect him to remedy that situation. He also let her know that she was to expect a harsher, more severe spanking over her bad habits of being always late and speeding around in the car without her seatbelt buckled around her. Tom was angry with her for endangering her life, but for now relieved and content to put it aside temporarily.

The nurse came in to get her out of bed for the first time. Tom watched as she put her feet on the floor. With the nurse on one side and Tom on the other she took her first shaky steps. As the nurse steps back behind her to tie her hospital gown she remarks. “We can’t figure how your bottom got so bruised in the accident dear. Not a usual spot to bruise for a concussion you know.” Althea looks back at the mirror behind her to see her still well reddened backside sporting slightly bluish welts.

Hope you had a great birthday Patty. Many happy returns.

Just another birthday

Wednesday, May 30th, 2007

copyright May 28, 2007, by Taz (aka Jeff, aka Sir Bump) 
Driving home had always seemed aggravating,but today just seemed a little more stressful than usual. First off,no one could have had any way of knowing that today was her birthday and she knew this, but even in the abscence of knowledge a little civility would be a nice thing.Maybe Steve would be the bright spot in her day and they could do something.

Steve opened the door for her with a smile as broad as the same door he had opened for her in exaggerated gentlemanly fashion.
“Happy Birthday baby!Come on in, Ive got the shower ready for you and our dinner reservations are set.”

 In spite of the past few moments of irritation she couldnt supress her own smile. Good ole’ Steve.  Her rock and her very reason for living.  He never let her down.Never cut her off in traffic….  Never sat motionless when the stop light was green,,,green as grass,,,as green as it GETS!

She forced herself to stop her in brain rant and bantered back and forth with Steve about how making a fuss wasnt necessary,and that it was just another of many birthdays.His nodded understanding conveyed a smile that made it plain that he knew his wife and he also knew that she would say these things.  But doesnt everyone like their birthday acknowledged?What she didnt see in his smile was the certainty that her birthday was soon to be acknowledged very clearly.

Stripping quickly and hopping into the shower,she felt the stress draining away as quickly as the water from her hair.She stood for long doses and let the water run through her hair.  It was less of a soap and water shower than one long rinse cycle.  She laughed at that thought and reached down to snap the water off.The sound of the shower curtain being slid back out of the way of her exit was loud in the silent aftermath.

She almost shrieked from the start of seeing Steve leaning with his back to the doorjam.  For a brief instant she thought of griping at him for scaring her like that.  She was unable to do so after she saw the belt in his hand,draped over one shoulder.

Her mind ran through a variety of dodges,smoke screens and pleadings.The one she settled on sounded just a tad bit too hopeful to pass muster.

“Before we go!!??”,she bleated.”Shouldnt we wait until after dinner?!!?” her stomach felt full of butterflies in an instant.  She thought maybe the butterflies were on vacation and had been replaced by a pack of vultures.

‘NOPE!” he shouted in a voice that contained just a little too much glee for her tastes at the moment. “Youre gonna be sitting on a sore ass at dinner tonight.  When we come back Ill be taking care of the leftovers.Both the food and whats left to spank out of you.But first things first!”

She opened her mouth to protest.  He silenced it before the word even formed with his index finger held to his lips.  Then with the same index finger turned towards the floor spinning in tiny circles he smiled and nodded his head.  His meaning was known well by this stage in their marriage.

Obediently, but with a slight shake in her knees, she turned her naked body for him to offer up her behind.  She bent forward, and with hope still springing eternal, put her hands on her knees and waited.  Hearing his chuckle, she inhaled sharply and exhaled through her nose while bending down further to wrap her fingers in between her toes, like she knew he was about to demand.There was one last card she could play.  Sounding tearful was her last line of defense so she thought she might as well go for it.

“Its my BIRTHDAY,Steven!”

The smile broke over his face like a tropical wave on a warm island. “Yes it is,my love.  YES it is!”

The pout lasted only as long as it took for the sound of the first crack from the belt to fill the room.  Her expression changed from pout, to panic, to very sorry wife in a few precious seconds to his eyes.

“Ohhhhh Noooo! Oh no, Oh no, Oh no,” she chanted while she gathered her breath and waited on the next fireball to find her bared and offered bum.  She wasnt kept waiting long.

“Can we now dispense with the grumpy grumbles about getting old, about birthdays, being unworthy of celebrating, and in general how unhappy you are with life, your financial situation. 

At this point she was grateful that her fingers were wrapped in between the toes and underneath the balls of her feet. Simply touching them would have led to a break in position and by the time they reached her age she would have had quite enough, thank you.  The added whacks for breaking position would have been a nightmare.His words were a reminder that the explosions going off on the surface of her bare bum were ones that she planed the charges for all week long.With the detonator in his hand, it was best just to keep her mouth shut,despite the urge to protest. The only sound to escape her lips were yelps and pitiful sobs until he told her she could stand up.

When he grabbed her up and hugged her tight she was silent and peaceful. She listened to the sound of her hitching breaths slow down and her husband cooing quietly to her that he loved her, and that this particular spanking was over.
“This….particular…spanking….?” she stuttered.  Her eyes were the classical deer in the headlights.  This was only the first round.

His smile was classically evil.  “You remember telling me about a month ago that your fantasy for your birthday was
that I would spank you like a naughty slave and make you do everything in bed that I want?  Well, I’m gonna give you your fantasy baby!”

She laughed genuinely for the first time all week long. “Cant you take a joke!?” she grumbled in mock-seriousness.

As long as she lived,she never forgot the glint in his eyes at that moment.  Neither one of them were really getting old.  He pushed the bathroom door open further so she could see the dress he had laid out for her.  Lifting her chin,he changed the tone of his voice so she would know that at least about this much,he wasnt joking.

“No underwear.Dinner is at 7:00 pm.You dont want to be the reason we are late.”

She lowered her eyes,because she knew how much it turned him on and simply said, “Yes Sir.”

He strode purposefully to the bedroom door.When he reached it he turned with a beautiful smile and said, “Its not gonna be just another birthday baby.”

When the door closed she brushed the tear from her eye and set about getting dressed.

Birthday Replica…

Tuesday, May 29th, 2007

by maggie May 28, 2007

I was stirred from my dreams by the dreadful screams of the alarm clock, and my morning began. I reached for the snooze button, and I realized that Tim was no longer in our bed. I made my way downstairs to the kitchen, but he wasn’t there either. “Where could you be this early on a Sunday morning?” I spoke into the empty room. It was then that I heard the garage door open with the roar of his truck making its way through the open garage door. A few minutes later Tim appeared. He stood there before me with a smile on his face and a bouquet of roses in one hand with a gift in the other. I just smiled. After I put the roses in the vase, he led me to our bedroom. We were curled up under the sheets when I asked about opening the gift that he brought with us upstairs. Tim simply smiled and said that I could open it now or after my birthday spanking. Of coarse I should have known by the smirk on his face that it was a trap. But I was too excited to see what was inside. I took the package and ripped all the paper off, and I tore into the box. The look on my face caused him to chuckle. It was a replica of the hairbrush that I threw away a few months ago… Um, I mean the hairbrush that mysteriously disappeared. He simply said that since I opened the present before my birthday spanking, that he would have to use the contents to perform the act. Before I knew it, I was over his knees with my nighty pulled up to my shoulders and my panties on the floor. After 25 solid whaps and an extra for good luck, he threw the brush down and we made love for the rest of the morning. It was a great start to a special day.

 

 

here’s # 1, thank you maggie, hope you like the drawing … looks like Jeff’s got one up too…. ;)   Hope some more folks join in…. 

Readers Write; Starter

Monday, May 28th, 2007

A Birthday to Remember

(A fantasy, by patty)  copyright 2007

Patty brought the groceries in through the back door and then went quickly to work putting them away.  Bagels in the fridge, peanut butter in the cupboard and all the rest of the produce in the sink – it was her habit to wash rinse and spin dry the fruits and greens before putting them in the crisper.  John came quietly up behind her as she place the last of the ruby reds and tangerines into the fruit bin.  He cupped her raised vulnerable bottom, one cheek in each firm hand – his fingers spread so his little fingers met at and teased the deep narrow cleft between her cheeks.

“Happy birthday,” he whispered into the right side of her neck as Patty stood to relax into his inviting invitation.

“Hmmmm?”  She nodded and turned into his embrace.  “May I give you my gift, or do you have other things to do that won’t keep?”“I think I’m all caught up.  We can eat for a few days anyway,” she kissed him again and relaxed completely into his embrace her torso molding to his as though she was plasticine being shaped by the strokes of his hands and arms on her back.

“Go on into the bedroom then.  You’ll know what to do.  I’ll join you in just a few minutes.”  John’s gentle push moved Patty away from the fridge so the door could close and gave her momentum toward the family room.  The room was dark save two candles that flanked a large bouquet of dark red roses, made the sensual velvety color of newly spilled blood by the dim flicker of candle light.   The subdued scent of jasmine from the candles made the rich luxury of the perfect roses heady and served to wake up anticipation.  In front of the flowers, a long white box rested perfectly on a strip of flawless though very old sepia Irish lace.  “Open me now!” Was written on a manually hearts and kisses embellished card – a card reminiscent of an Alice in wonderland moment - the command written in a pen that might have come from the mad hatter himself.Patty smiled.  She loved the surprises, and though this one was beginning like nothing she’d lived before even though there’d been hints that they’d share sensuality and spanking had come up for a while.  She was very much appreciating how she was being simultaneously melted and made to feel the peel away of all her day time armor; and enticed with a growing trust into every thing John had planned.

*******

He’s asked her what she wanted for her birthday, and she’d answered that a few nice spankings during the day might be nice.  A small bouquet of flowers sent to work, mostly for vanity, always felt sweet, but most of all, since he’d asked and really wanted to know, she kissed him and spooned with him, pulling his hands around her so she could cup both to her lip.  She kissed them both and then using her lips, tongue and fingers, traced the long lines on his palms making memories of each sinew; Patty answered frankly; “John, I want the spanking of your most secret dreams.  I trust you to tell me when you sense the time is right  Trust me,” she’d whispered again, the last time her answer drifted away,submerged under the seductive waves of oncoming sleep.

*****

 Patty picked up the box, and the lid came away easily.  A flowing black satin and lace teddy spilled out over her hands.  Held up to her torso, she knew instantly that it didn’t just fit her, but it would give her the sensual freedom of movement she craved from t shirts.  Below the tissue Patty didn’t discover a card.  Instead there was a 12 inch school master strap.  ½ inch wide 12 inches long and ¾ inch plus thick.  An OTK brand of a strap that she’d hoped John would never discover.  Her hands trembled a little.  Putting the gifts down, she turned to follow the candle light and the path of rose pedals into the bed room.  The bedroom smelled clean; especially fresh.  All the weekly comforters and day to day sheets & cases were gone and new stuff they got at Christmas completely decked out the room.  Silken 800 thread count chocolate brown sheets covered the feather bead & mattress and most of their down pillows.  Even Patty’s long full body pillow was covered.  The gold, burgundy, sage and peach jacquard & damask of the heavier Euro-shams, the ruffle & the comforter had been laid out in a frame.  4 white elements occupied the bed, a foam reinforced down filled core pillow for Patty’s head; a gorgeous cut Asian lily it’s pristine white petal swirl hiding the deepening fragrant blood red of it’s deeper core was placed right where her right hand would find it when her torso would find comfort as her bottom was finally placed up over the larger stack of pillows..  The smaller top two down pillows that topped the rich looking dark stack in the middle of the bed were framed.Patty stepped back.  The masculinity of the room she once feared would smother, was going to be a perfect fit for her.  Orchids, lilies, while silk and linen all belonged and fit perfectly.  It had taken John’s hand to bring it out.

“You did all this?” she whispered, when she felt more than know John’s presence behind her.

“Like it?” he smiled.

Patty simply nodded.  John’s belt and Patty’s older blog strap flanked the blanket table that was also adorned with candles.  This bouquet was larger, but Patty had to smile.  Two bulbous blooms white and pink tinged hydrangea clusters had been arranged with greenery and baby’s breath to look just like a very spankable bum.  The part that made Patty laugh, but her giggle changed to awe when she saw that most of the back drop of what 1st seemed more like an up turned skirt, actually looked much different.  Careful examination of the gorgeous overlapping shining and carefully molded Calla Lily’s that formed the side and rear frame of the bouquet looked for the entire world like a macabre upright vampire’s collar.  The red and candle light made the blush on the hibiscus look almost like maybe there might have been some warm up already.

Another long box was there to be opened on the blanket box before the bouquet.

Long silk black stockings, silk bikini panties and a lacey garter fell away from the tissue that surrounded it.  Below them the lifted tissie revealed the long thin London Tanner strap Patty’d bought for John.  Each of the garments were sexy though Patty succumbed to transient wonder about fit (especially around her inner thighs.  It would be moot.  The camisole was already perfect.  John would have his framed bottom, just as he had his framed tableau.  Something about the framed female bottom appealed to him, and so it had become special for her to try to offer for him.

There was more yet.  In the bathroom the whirlpool tub was full to over flowing with the fragrant scented bubbles of gardenias, sandalwood and Valeria, and Patty’s favorite loofa brush and sponges were set in the basket.  More candle flickered on the vanities, the back splash behind the tub and on the tile risers that separated the vanities from the tub.

John kissed her threatening tears away, and helped Patty disrobe so that she could descend into the perfect heat of the tub.  He knelt beside her lathering one of the many available wash cloths and began with her face, kissing the sweet lather and then rinsing it before moving to her neck, then her back arms and legs.  A lot of dripping from the wash cloths and some splashing conspired to soak John.

“Join me now please? Patty whispered before he was able to direct his ministrations to her chest.  He smiled.  There was room enough, he was wet enough, and the evening was young.  Patty watched his gentle eyes while he deliberated, and smiled when they twinkled and he tugged away his t-shirt and stood to step out of his jeans.  In the tub with her, he leaned forward to kiss her as he lathered his palms and then used then to massage bath gel from her neck down, lingering to massage her breasts, taking great care to gently pull and stretch each nipple, twisting and working the soothing lather into each pucker.  Patty slipped closer to him making it more comfortable for John to shift his position in front of her.  Their flexed legs intertwined on either side of each other, it was much easier for John to take his wash cloth and rinse away the lather his palms soothe on Patty’s torso; and then much easier for his gel laden fingers to probe and lather those private hidden parts between her thights.

“uMMMM!” Patty pressed into his fingers aiding his access to every fold and crevice.  Taking a clean washcloth, she began her own ministrations of her partner, propelled involuntarily by the glorious build up of tension his silken intimate cleansing.  She rinsed and then kissed his face, whimpering now and then because his hands gave her no choice.  “Oh honey!” she literally scrubbed John’s chest.  “Stop! Stop, Stop!’ she whispered.  His ministrations were taking her too close to climax.  “Need spanking 1sst?” John teased. When her hands found his tumescent member and began to stroke it.Patty blushed, but turned and lifted her bottom out of the water putting her suds slipping flesh in perfect position.

John laughed and laid down a hard slap to one slippery cheek, then lifted himself to sit up on the edge beside her.  He’d need better leverage he decided.Patty giggled, wiggling her bottom for more.“You like that?” John laughed.

“Yes please Sir,”

“I do like that too,” Jon rinsed more warm water and suds up over Patty’s needy bottom and then gave her five sturdy sways.

Patty yelped just slightly.

“Too hard?”

“No, just right hard,” she giggled.

“Then why are you wiggling so much?”

“Because it stings so good,”

“So good huh?”  John took that as a challenge and delivered almost 20 very stinging swats.

“OK, OW!” patty wiggled more and dropped her bottom into the cooling water.  “Lot’s more to come Birthday girl,” John chuckled and stood to let both of them out of the water onto the bath mat.  ****************Dried off and made smooth and soft with lotion and power, John left Patty alone while she donned the garter, stockings, panties and chamisole.  Ready, she pushed open the door to the bedroom to find John still nude settled comfortably on the ottoman the short narrow schoolmaster strap, her blog paddle and his etched cracker barrel paddle resting on the carpet at his feet.“Birthday spanking time my love,” he smiled

Patty felt a blend of excitement and trepidation.  She certainly needed a spanking, she’d never argue that, but with those implements?  Still, she reminded herself that she’d asked for the spanking of his fantasies for her gift.  So far there was hardly a romantic petal out of place.  She owed him the complete trust he’d hoped for in making these plans.

“Come here Patty,” John instructed her to come stand beside him where he sat on the uhpolstered foot stool.  “Pull those pretty panties down and bend yourself down over my knees.”  Obediently Patty tugged her new black silk panties down to mid thigh and placed herself prone across John’s thighs.  His hands and fingers stroked the parts of her vulnerable flesh that was framed inside the black garments.  “Hate to mark this pretty sight, but that’s not what you need is it?” John chuckled.  “You could leave it white if you like it better that way you know?” Patty teased.“Now for that I think we should start with business, a toy that means buisiness don’t you?” he chuckled.

“Oh no that’s ok!” Patty struggled just a bit until John lightly tapped her with the thin strap.  “Count these please miss Patricia.”

The next lick stung a little more, “One sir.”  The next stung a little more, “Two sir.” … This carried on with each lick landing with just a little more sting than the other many making patty gasp and squirm, all the way to 40, when John significantly tightened his hold on here.  “Now for the finish and the lesson for all your minor crimes of the past year,” He laid in the next 7 licks with enough burn to make patty buck and cry out.

After five to ten minutes of cuddling and quiet talk, the next 47 with the paddle were delivered almost exactly the same way with patty otk.  The last 7 didn’t carry quite the burn the strap did.  Maybe that was because by then Patty’s bottom was well warmed up and the pain to pleasure barrier had begun to blend.  All of the spanking with her blog strap was deliciously hot.  47 licks didn’t really seem like enough, especially the 7 last hard ones.  Her whimpering now had little to do with pain, but more to do with growing need.

Their embrace before John instructed Patty to remove her panties altogether and climb up on the bed was long.  That sex was going to follow this last spanking was without question.  John pressed his fingers up inside her and when they came away slick with her clean scented juices he smiled and used them to stroke his quite turgid member.

Patty took the intended position on the bed, her hips raised high over the pillows in the center, her face rested comfortably on the cool crisp white linen pillow, and she grasped the still firm lily by her right hand.  “So sweet!” she smiled, closing her eyes trying to take in and feel every sensuality – smell, taste, texture, pleasure, pain, soft, silk, wet, need, desire, anxiety, anticipation, joy, heet, cool, discomfort, cozy, comfort – her reverie was broken by the searing impact of the new untried strop London Tanner across her distracted bottom.  “Oh!” she yelped.“Hard one isn’t it?” John’s voice was soft.  “Yes,” Patty complained.“This one is for the times you’ve devalued yourself and let negativity overpower your potential.  You ready?”   Patty whimpered, but nodded.  While there firmness in his voice, John’s voice remained soft.  There was no softness in the strokes he used to apply the strop.  She held her position, griping the lily and the sheets to keep her hands out of the way.

When John reached 47 and stopped, Patty was softly crying.  “Now what was it you asked me for at the end; one harder to grow together on; one harder for luck and one more even harder so you’d remember to work the laws of attraction?”  He leaned down to take her chin in his hands and look into her eyes.  Patty grimaced and sobbed.  “Yes please,” she answered.John delivered as he’d promised.  ************Later, when all the candles were out, the tub drained and all toys put away, the couple spooned together. Patty’s bottom warmed John’s lower abdomen.  “Was it a perfect birthday honey?” he whispered kissing her cheek.  ‘Almost,” she smiled, turning to kiss him face to face.  “Only one thing more that I need.”  Her hands found him ready, and her embrace, with his eased him to where he belonged.  That first slow penetration and that followed until bliss and sleep took them both, made certain there would be nothing left undone this time.

[Jeff has his started….  Maggi, Paul, Tiggr, and MaggieDear all have ideas… Boy would it be neat to have this be one of the best ever group activities we’ve had on this blog?    How about we make June 5 the deadline for this one since I was thinking of having a June bride gets spanked actual contest where the winner gets a signed framed copy of the drawing.  I was thinking of announcing the contest June 1 and having readers vote by June 20.  This one was a spur of the moment thing… Whatcha think?]Image inspired by Spanking Couple

A Quiet Day

Sunday, May 20th, 2007

She spent a very quiet day after a long stressful and busy week.  Her man mailed her some lyrics that inspired her to consider what was to come for them in only 60 days.  Her bottom tingled, and other parts of her began to throb and become deliciously warm and wet.  Subtly she pressed her thighs together, slowly and gently rocking her pelvis with sensual anticipation.  The day was fast approaching when they would be together, when they would touch, embrace and kiss one and other.  Her mind lingered over the other things they would share together that day and the five days that would follow.

The possibility that she would again know the experience of being spanked every day for five days ignited other thoughts.  Would they feel it right for their growing, psychic, spiritual and emotional intimacy to become physical beyond spanking?  After restoring to her and sharing with her the intimacy and gift of love and spanking, would he allow her to thank him, to stroke his virility and take him inside her mouth, kiss him, lick and take his come into her mouth?  Would it feel right for them to lay together at some point during those five days, after her bottom has been thoroughly warmed and make love to each other?  Would she know the man she was growing to love inside her?  Would she once again experience that first thrust of the man she loved claiming her completely, the bliss of climax during the act of being taken and giving herself wholly to him?   Was it possible she might again know the intense treasure of climax during a long spanking administered by the man she loved and then open her thighs so that he may have his within her?   She knew in her heart that only what felt right to both of them in the moment would transpire when they spent those five days together, though it was very pleasing indeed to ponder the possibilities they’d talked about.  One thing she knew for certain was that during those five days, she would go to church with the man she loved and sit beside him on a well spanked bottom and share the intimacy of giving thanks to God for bringing him into her life.  For the moment she allowed herself the naughty pleasures of thoughts and possibilities and the luxury of a quiet prayer that no matter when it became right, that all of those possibilities and more would come to be between them in time. She spent the day working the Secret and invoking the Law of Attraction.

A Reader Writes; Down The Lost Road

Thursday, April 26th, 2007

Here is a reader’s write story that I have illustrated.  See if you can guess who wrote it?  and no it was not me or John. 

(Note:  The themes in this story are strong. Not all spankos or those into DD without D/s will find it to their tastes, but it’s my hope you’ll appreciate the brave self exploration of needs and desires.  Hope ya like my drawing too.) 

 

Down Lost Road
©Taz, 2007
 Hello old friend;
I hope things are going well out there in Seattle for you. I remember it very vividly, because it is such a beautiful town. I remember the look in your eyes when we went downstairs and you asked me about the room with the lock on the door. When I started to explain it to you, then the girls came downstairs and we were cut off, but I could clearly see your interest. I’m writing you today to explain a few things that I had no time to, the other day.
Your best friend is “one of those” people, and I have no shame about it. One thing I’ve learned in this life is that there is no time for shame. I wasted fifteen years of my life with my ex-wife, as did you with yours. That room in my basement is the culmination of finding a kindred soul in Jenny. She feels as I do that there are poisonous resentments that creep their way into every corner of our lives and, if they are left unattended to, destroy what could be the greatest love of our lives.
I was about to explain to you that first experience that sent me down that path when we were interrupted. I hope you wanted to hear the rest of the story, because here it is:
My ex decided after the kids were both in school that she needed a job to elevate her self-worth and I was all for it. She never seemed to hang on to a job very long and it made extra money for us. At one point, however, her employers saw something in her that brought about her promotion. This was all well and good with me and I encouraged her because I saw it as no challenge to me personally but rather, a boon to her self-esteem. I told her in no uncertain terms, however, that family is first. I would surely grab the clothes and put them in the laundry or make dinner myself on some occasions, but I also knew her pretty well. I worried that she would not be able to keep her priorities straight. This turned out to be well founded.
Natalie was just into high school and in that time frame where her own self-esteem could be crushed in a light fell swoop. She came home on yet another Friday and acted very edgy and nervous. When I asked her what the problem was, she told me that Mom had promised to be home to take her to the dance and to chaperone that night and all the chaperones were to be there by six pm.
Needless to say that by this point, my warning had gone unheeded. My ex has always been a very headstrong woman and as the late hours were increasing on her job, she continued to insist that her priorities were just fine and that maybe I shouldn’t be so “clingy”. I grit my teeth and thought that possibly the thing to do was to give her some space, but I won’t lie to you. Right then and there, I wanted to yank her up against my chest and tell her that I was still the man of the house and I don’t just talk to hear myself.
A side note: For years I have had these two sides of myself. One is the caveman variety, and one is the everyday man. The caveman likes his sex dirty and rough(.I have to qualify this here: By “rough” I mean the hair pulling, sweaty, ramming it to her, take it from behind like the bitch you are, kind of “rough”. It’s never okay to force a woman who isn’t into this) Therein laid the first trouble of my first marriage. She loved rough six’s just resented it the next day.
Part of this is the confusion of her own soul. She loved a “real man.” Now, when the good part was over, she fought the submissive half of herself. She hadn’t learned that because things are “this way” in the privacy of our own home that does not mean I will drag her off by the hair when we are out in public if I should choose to do so. She hadn’t learned that her value as a woman does not decrease as a submissive, but actually is elevated
NOW, on to our story…
The phone rang. Of course it was two hours later than she was supposed to be home. There she was, a little bit lit and promising to be home in time for the dance and to take Natalie as she promised. I told her that she didn’t need to be drinking and then driving home and THEN driving our daughter to a dance. She of course laughed all this off, pooh-pooh, you know nothing, etc .I told her I was on my way to get her ass and come home. I hung up the phone. I didn’t wait for a reply. That was probably my own mistake.
You might have guessed that the time flew ever onward like the winged feet of Mercury and you might be quite correct.
So, needless to say I took one tearful teenage girl to the dance, our younger son to my brother-in-law’s house where he could play with his little cousin and set out for town to have a “discussion” with her. If only I could relate to you the feeling I had, driving the back roads to get to town, and cursing myself for being so “weak” that I allowed this to happen to my own family. Then, even better, if I could relate to you the rage I felt, the absolute and complete rage, when I saw her vehicle halfway in my lane rounding that curve near Martin road.
I swung the truck in a U-turn and pursued but she just stuck her hand out the window and waved like” Here I am,,, I’m comin, ya old fart!”  I pulled up alongside and pointed to the side of the road.” PULL THE HELL OVER!” Maybe what I said was a little rougher than that; I refuse to answer any more on the grounds which I may incriminate myself……
For the first time in a longtime, I saw her face go pale. I had never struck my ex before but I think she thought that maybe this might be a first. When she pulled over I was out of my car, threw open her door and grabbed her hand to pull her out of the seat. Let’s just say that the presence of alcohol could be detected on her breath.
Without a word, I brought her by my grip on her upper arm, on her toes, all the way to my truck. I put her in the passenger seat. Nearly slammed the door off the hinges, and rounded the car to get in the driver’s seat. Of course, you know the ex, and her mouth started yammering. Yammering about her rights and freedoms as an American individual to get shit-faced drunk if she should choose, and to laugh and act like a teenager with her working girlfriends and I was just an American ogre for not letting her drive when she was perfectly capable. Then she announced that she had to pee…..and pee very soon.
You know that stretch of back road between the house and town. A dirt road here and a dirt road there, off to the left and the right. When I looked up after she announced that her bladder had gone to Defcon 5,there in Technicolor I saw the sign which read” Lost Rd.”
Lost road huh? Perfect, I thought.
Lost road was as advertised. Not a house, not a soul. I think maybe even the wolves were scared of going down Lost road without packing something. I found a suitable spot with lots of trees and pulled to the edge of the dirt road. She bounded out of the car, already fumbling with her zipper so she could run commute with nature without staining those jeans she valued so much. She liked the way they framed her ass. As I watched her stumble off, so did I.I took the keys out of the ignition and got out of the truck.
She was in “mid-pee” when she saw my eyes and she knew. She knew just as surely as someone had shown her the truth in a history book somewhere. Her mouth, no longer yammering, began to open and close like a fish lying on a dock waiting for the filet knife.
When she finished I already had her by the arm and was yanking her over my knee. As luck would have it, her pants were already down and I didn’t need to bother with that ritual. Sneaky of me, huh? Among protests, threats and a struggle worthy of a wildcat, I secured her legs by draping my right one over both of hers at the knee and when she swatted her hand ineffectually at my own, I placed it up between her shoulder blades and began whacking, hard and fast.
I gave her a word for each whack. Each word being part of a sentence containing some rules we were going to come to an understanding about out here on Lost Rd.
“You-will-start-putting-your-family-first-again-,Missy.-You -will-start-being-a -wife-to-me-and-a-mother-to -your-kids.
She screamed and howled and when asked if she understood these things, she screamed “FUCK YOU!”….Such language huh? So of course I had to spank much harder. Trust me; those moments are precious memories now.
WHAT-DID-YOU-SAY?-I-THINK-YOU-NEED-TO-LEARN-A -LITTLE-HUMILITY!
Humility is such a great word. Let’s just say that after about three minutes of solid, hard ass beating, (and a swelling hand, I hate to admit) she had learned a great deal of humility.
NOW, you knew my ex but you didn’t know that oral sex was far, far beneath a woman of her dignity and pride. Only trailer trash did that sort of thing in her eyes. Sufficient to say that after those moments were done, Miss I don’t do that sort of thing, rolled directly off my lap and fumbled with my zipper.
Randy, it wasn’t just that she was going to suck my cock now. It was the way she went about it. She rolled off my lap, directly to her knees but it seemed to me that if she had a tail it would be between her legs and her shoulders were hunched up as if trying to turtle her head back inside a shell. She SCRAMBLED to please me.
I was satisfied that it wasn’t a lack of enthusiasm or effort on her part, mind you, but it’s sufficient to say that she lacked practice at oral
sex. Everyone knows that practice makes perfect, and she had considered herself above such wifely duties, in the past. I decided that I had enough of that and I wanted to do something that would make this moment an epiphany for both of us. I put my hand on her forehead and told he rotates enough.”


I stepped back, deciding that my admonishment about her failures to be a wife should be addressed and to show her at that exact moment what this would mean. She watched me step around behind her, and didn’t move as I yanked the pant legs of her jeans up and off of her, lifting her legs in the air as I did so. After shredding her panties out of my way, I slipped my own jeans down to my knees and kicked one foot out of its pant leg. She knew what was next, because she was already getting into position. On her hands and knees wasn’t good enough this time though, I put my hand squarely between her shoulder blades and simply said, “Down, bitch.I want those tits on the ground.”

As she placed her arms overhead to brace herself, I pushed all the way in on the first thrust and grabbed hold of her ankles. I stood up while buried balls deep inside her and began scooting her across the ground with my thrusts. My grip on her ankles kept her rocking back to me. I wanted her to understand this new place with me and to feel the humility of serving, even at the cost of her pride and sense of self. To be truthful, I felt, for lack of a better phrase, like a god. Maybe a better description would simply be to say I just let myself be me.
She only said three words the whole time. She said them over and over again. “Oh my God!” It wasn’t pain. It wasn’t fear. She never said the word, “No.” She was completely wrapped up in being taken, and the sensations that both her mind and body were experiencing. I held back, wanting to make this last as long as possible. As I used her, I kept reminding her of the words she heard during her spanking and added a few here and there: “You’re going to be a good wife to me, woman.” “Do you understand your place now, bitch?” “You wanna feel me cum inside you, don’t you slut?”

When I heard her panting, affirmative replies to my questions, I felt like I could carry both her and the truck home on my shoulder. When she felt me explode inside her, she cried out her own nirvana and gripped what little grass the clearing offered, ripping it out of the ground. Shudders periodically passed through that half naked body underneath me, as I set her knees back down on the ground. We got our clothes back on, got back in the car and drove home.
Everything felt fixed. Everything felt right. She sat gingerly in the middle of the front seat so she could be next to me, hand on my leg. I took her home, stripped her, and ordered her into bed. She obeyed without comment, possibly for the first time in her life, and I got a quick view of purple living color on each cheek of that bare ass. Just as she scrambled to please me on Lost Rd, she scrambled to get her naked ass into bed. I picked up our son at my brother in law’s house and he drove out with me to retrieve her vehicle. I picked up the daughter at the dance. All was well, or so a fellow would think. The next morning she told me the next time I was “violent” with her, she would call the police. I told her that next time she risked hundreds of other people’s lives driving drunk on the road, what I would do would be the least of her worries and that*she*might be the one spending time at the county hotel.

So what went wrong? If this was the moment of truth, why is she now an ex? Well buddy, the only thing I can tell you is that I may have rediscovered a truth about myself that I wanted to embrace, but she discovered a truth about herself that she chose to hide from. I could go into all the deep psychological reasons but its all window dressing. The point is, once you find what is true for yourself, will you have the courage to put the truth to use in your own life?

As for me, Randy, the truth was simple: It was an old dirt road that could be considered almost one lane .Once I made that right hand turn down Lost Rd. I found that at least for myself, there was no turning back.
             Take care of yourself out there……
 

 

Hurt me perfect

Sunday, April 22nd, 2007

“I couldn’t help it!” she giggled.  “Oh no please!”

Although giggles still couldn’t be suppressed when John leaned down and picked up a handy cast off slipper, Patty’s free hand tugged against the grip that had just become vice like.

“What did I tell you about getting you hands in the way?” Patty could sense the evil grin he wore as he applied two very stinging slaps to here exposed bare thights.

“Ow honey! No fair!” she kicked and renewed here efforts to free herself.  “This is a fun one remember?”

“It is fun!” John laughed and laid the slipper on just a little harder up on the fleshier more warmed up regions of her bottom.  “I’m certainly enjoying it.  You should see the lovely red ovals this thing makes.  John emphasized his pleasure with a particularly hard smack.

“Eiy! Ow! Ow!”  Patty squirmed some more.  She was held firm though, and after all she had certainly participated in the silly overtures that initiate this early morning interlude.   Acceptance and cooperation invaded her pain and pleasure conflicted mind.

In a minute or two she warmed up to John’s enthusiastic efforts and took her spanking like the good girl she could sometimes be.  Soon it was his deliciously stinging check to cheek to center rhythm and the firmness of him growing hard next to her left hip that made her hips rock side to side.

His rock hard bare thighs under her soft stomach reminded her it was morning and they had barely started getting ready for the day before their sensual mutual spanking dance started.  Once his demonstration of dominance and her submission was thoroughly established, and her bare bottom was scaled to his satisfaction, it was only a matter of stepping out of her panties before the last of the dance could conclude.

“Harder honey!” she whispered, her hands now free to grip and caress his left leg.

John obliged.

“Oh oooh!” she whimpered, opening her mouth and closing her teeth on the flesh between her hands.

“Don’t bite me there!” John chuckled, whapping her thighs to warn.

Tears burned the corner of Patty’s eyes, but she immediately redirected her helpless primitive carnal kisses to her own arm.

“Don’t stop!” she gasped.

John had no intentions of doing so.  He recognized the involuntary signs that his partner was reaching the nadir where pain blended perfectly with pleasure.  One of his greatest pleasures was being able to give her the spanking that took her there.

*****

He kissed her tears when she climbed on the chair with him, mounting him with some shared manual guidance.

“I love you.” He smiled wrapping her close to him as they coupled fully.

“I love you more!” she sniffled.

“Did I hurt you too much?” he wondered, his thumbs wiping the tears that had escaped below his kisses.

“No,” she smiled through a hiccup and sob.  “You hurt me perfect.”

Easter Surprise

Sunday, April 8th, 2007

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

take them down

Saturday, March 24th, 2007

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. 

Being Punished

Friday, March 16th, 2007

This is a fantasy inspired by an e-mail I received from the gentlman who answered my personal ad.  He’s given me permission to post it, and I hope he will share his version with you aso.  I like his better.  ;)   edit:  St Patrick’s day morning 6:50 AM….  John’s version of this scenario is posted s the 1st comment here…. *grin*

 

She knew as she walked from her car that he was inside waiting for her, and the thought sent a raw surge of anticipation and anxiety through her body centering itself deep in the pit of her stomach and waking up the throb between her thighs that had tormented her all day.  The flesh of her bottom tingled and her heart skipped a beat as her hand reached to open the door, the promise he’d made that morning echoing in her mind.

“We are going to finish this when we get home from work today Patty, and when I am through with your backside you are going to know that I am serious about you looking after your health.”

He’d made that promise to her as he finished administering a fast and hard taste of what he intended to do more thoroughly when there was more time.   She shouldn’t have been surprised when she came out of the shower to find him seated at the computer with a grim look on his face.

“Come here!” his voice was firm.  When she obeyed he looked into her eyes, the intent she saw in his caused her groin to throb instantly.  “What were you doing up on line until 3 AM instead of in bed sleeping after spending so many weeks sick?”

She had no legitimate answer and her body language told him.  Knowing there was nothing to be gained forcing her to answer, he reach up and pulled off the towel that covered her and then pulled her down across his lap.  The spanking he’d administered that morning was plenty hard enough to get the point across as far as Patty was concerned, but John clearly intended to make the point more firmly.

That knowledge kept her on edge all day and now the promise was going to be kept and she knew there would be no talking him out of it.  Even so she’d entertained a few well worded pleas during the distracted moments of her work day.  Knowing she didn’t really want to talk him out of it didn’t stop the anxious ambivalence she couldn’t control.  Knowing she was going be spanked turned her on, knowing she was going to be punished superimposed a maddening nervous avoidance anxiety.  *****

“How was your day?” he spoke from the armchair where he was reading.

“OK,” she smiled weakly.

“Good,” he nodded with matter of fact acceptance.  “Let’s get this out of the way so we can relax and have a quiet week end alright?”

Patty blushed and nodded, putting her purse on the table by the door.

“Go and get the bath brush put it on the bed, take your pants down and you wait there for me until I come in to deal with you.  You spend the time I’m giving you to look at that brush and you think about how much easier it would be if it were going to be used the way you like it instead of the way you’ve earned it today.”

“Please not the brush John?” Patty’s whole being balked knowing now just how firmly he intended to get this message through to her.  “Don’t argue with me,” he warned, pointing to the bedroom door.  “You do as you’re told or you’ll find yourself getting punished again tomorrow.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and the plea for leniency she’d rehearsed spun in her mind.  It didn’t come out.  The resolve in John’s expression helped her defeat her weaker instincts and accept the discipline they’d agreed would be part of their partnership.

The silence that kept her company in the bedroom did little to suppress or calm the physical and emotional noise that was the humbling experience of preparing the scene for a punishment spanking.  Taking out the implement she most feared, placing it on the spot where he would soon take her across his knee, pulling down her slacks and panties and standing with her bottom bare waiting.  It would be so much easier if he pulled out the brush and presented her with it and took her there by the arm so that she could hide from the confusing mix of fear and anticipation, her complicity and the desire that made her whole physical being thrill as though touched with a vibrating tuning fork.

She didn’t do humility well, though she instinctively understood the mind set transition that requiring it of her set in motion.  It would assure that she cried, and it accomplished an irrevocable distinction between the intense sexual meaning of spanking for her and its additional value as tool for discipline.

John gave her more than twenty minutes to contemplate and find the right mind set.  Even though she’d managed to get there, as soon as he approached her, moved the brush aside and sat down where it had been the maddening ambivalence and panic returned.

John smiled seeing the fleeting urge to beg out of her predicament wash over her face and hide there behind dilated pupils and a worried search for reprieve in his eyes.  “It’s going to happen Patty.  We’re not going to have to do this again for a good long while.  You have to take better care of yourself if not out of respect for yourself then out of respect for me.  Understood?”

Tears welled again, and she nodded her head.

John pulled her close spreading his thighs so she fit in his initially gentle embrace.  He kissed her and then shifted to pull her down so that her pelvis rested across his left thigh and her torso was supported on the bed.  If necessary he would use his right leg to trap her legs.   Her bottom was perfectly placed to benefit from the full force of his swing and her torso placed where his hold on her would make any struggling all but useless.  Patty felt the gentle hold he’d initially taken of her harden to the task at hand and then she gasped with the scalding first impact of his hand across both cheeks.  He brought his hand down equally hard onto the same spot again and again until Patty couldn’t help trying to twist away from his aim.  John’s hold tightened and he redirected his aim to thoroughly redden her right cheek.  Patty bucked and cried.  She hated the way he made the pain crest, spanking the same spot hard and long before moving on the repeat that on another spot until her entire bottom was burning.  It was the way he made the warm up for the real spanking as painful as possible.  Unlike the spankings they shared for pleasure where he would gradually build the intensity, this technique prepared her flesh for the more painful harder and longer paddling to come while itself being intensely effective as part of the punishment.  By the time John stopped to take up the brush, his right leg was tightly scissored holding her legs down so that she could not kick and forcing her bottom to remain flexed so her cheeks could not tense to lessen the pain, and Patty was crying inconsolably.  He allowed her a minute or two to adapt.  “You’re going to take better care of yourself after this aren’t you?”

“Yes, I promise,” she sobbed.

“I won’t hold you to that promise, but I expect to see improvement for at least the next two or three months until you get your strength back.  I know we’ll have to do this again eventually, but I don’t want it to be soon.  If it is you’ll think this spanking was play.”

“I promise.  I’ll do better,” Patty sobbed, grateful for the understanding and mindful of the seriousness of John’s expectations.

The brush exploded the brief calm.  It felt like it was never going to end, but it did after just a few more minutes.  The complete release that came with the final scalding impact of the brush and the return of the gentleness of John’s hold was something Patty had not realized how much she needed.

“Better?” John learned down to whisper, push her hair off her face and kiss her tear damp cheek.

“Yes,” she smiled.

“Need more?”

“No thank you, this was good,” she nodded assurance.

“You’re sure now this is going to last in your mind?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Patty felt him begin to harden against her left hip.  Knowing how it pleased him to give her what she needed even when it was not for his sexual gratification, but for her emotional and psychological release, she asked him to let her thank him.  He did not refuse her, but instead helped her ease down onto her knees between his legs and helped her release his fly and free himself for her.

“Good girl,” he spoke softly taking hold of her hair holding her as she used her kiss and mouth to bring him to his full rigid length and thickness.  Patty loved the feel of him growing harder as her tongue stroked the sensitive ridge and her lips circled and stroked him taking him into her mouth as deeply as she could manage.  He let her have that pleasure but only long enough to prepare him to take her.  She’d been punished after all, and it was her submission he wanted to reinforce.  Letting her take him now would undermine that purpose.

“Come on up here now,” he lifted her face off of him pulling her up to kiss her and guide her onto the bed on her back, spreading her thighs and stepping out of his jeans and placing himself on top of her.   His mouth took hers as he slid his rigid erection easily between the swollen slick lips of her pussy; even when punished spanking primed her with the copious lubricant that made sexual penetration easy.  Pressing firmly, he entered her, both of them gasping when his full length filled her.  Thrusting slowly and easily, he gradually took her from pain to pleasure using his need to force her to climax before he rode her harder and faster to take his own release.  They would spend the rest of the evening cuddled together watching old movies.  He took his pleasure inside her once again before they slipped into sleep.  Patty would be spanked again the next evening and again on Sunday, but those spankings were for the sheer shared pleasure of the act and each would bring her to climax as they were administered and make John rock hard and ready to take his final pleasure inside her long before each concluded.  They had come together through their shared sexual need and desire for this activity after all.

 

Rant, Part 2, Disobedience…

Sunday, March 4th, 2007

Since there are a number of bloggers joining American Spanking society in self spanking discussion this week, I decided to use the conclusion of the events posted last night as memory fodder for a lovely afternoon of self indulgence.  My bottom is now very very red and my needs quite sated for the moment.  I used the very same spatula, and though I had to settle for a different appetizer, I also enjoyed some mac & cheese for supper.  Hope this inspires some indulgence for some of you readers too.  :)   Don’t you just love leisurely sundays? 

Disobedience

copyright 2007, by patty 

Sheila woke up in a much better frame of mind about two hours later; restless again, but with a whole different energy.  The stern growl that echoed with Eamon’s order for her to stay in bed until lunch time blended with the delicious tingle that lingered on her still bare bottom.  A wicked disobedient thought occurred to her when she stretched languidly under the covers and wiggled her bottom to awaken more of the fading sting.  Her pussy pulsed nd her squirms pressed warm wet velvety lips between her thighs together to gently masturbate.  “More!” she whispered launching herself up and out from under the covers.  She lifted the hem of the t-shirt she still had on, and padded out barefoot in search of her husband.  She found him pouring a box of dry macaroni into a pot of steaming water, stirring it with something that made Sheila grin.  That particular wooden spatula had the most delicious sting when used right.   Exactly what a disobedient wife should get.  “I’m up before you gave me permission,” she spoke to let Eamon know she was there.  He turned to see her standing by the dining table, t-shirt balled up in one hand exposing her demurely crossed thighs and tufted pussy, and her other hand suggestively behind her back covering her bared backside.

The sight of her, standing like that complete with a shy hopeful pout, made his cock immediately come to life.

“I think you should spank me again, maybe harder, maybe with that?” Sheila grinned pointing the index finger holding the shirt up to the spatula Eamon was holding.  When Eamon responded with an equally wicked and willing grin, Sheila turned and placed her naughty hips up over the dge of the table, leaning down over it so her naughty bare bottom was perfectly placed for a proper punishment.

She yelped when Eamon’s first contact was a sharp swap.  The spatula was still wet.  “Oooowww” her muscles clenched involuntarily. 

“Nice,” Eamon chuckled rubbing his hand over the blooming stinging mark he just made.  “Wives’ who disobey and need to be spanked twice in one day get the full treatment, you know that right?” his mock stern warning was sultry and perfect.  

“Yes please,” Sheila lifted and wiggled her bum spreading her thighs and opening her pussy ever so slightly.  

Eamon started spanking her with moderately hard, and perfectly stinging strokes.  Sheila’s breath became ragged as she rocked her pelvis side to side up and down, lifting each cheek for the next swat.  “Yes please, please. More please.” 

Eamon obliged speeding up the pace, and laying in just a bit harder with the spatula.  “You are going to thank me properly for this spanking aren’t you brat?” he growled wrapping his left arm over Sheila’s back as if to hold her down, but he had a very different goal this time pressing his hand further than the side of her hip, down under it and forward to where his fingers found and spread her swollen hot pussy.  His index and ring finger straddling her slippery clit slid deeper and then squeezed trapping her clit between them where his middle finger could stroke it without mercy.

Sheila trembled pressing her face onto the cool surface of the table spreading her arms to collect the cool, her mind spiraling into the blissful oblivion where she became pure sensation.  

Eamon responded thoroughly to her barely audible pleas.  “Spank me, spank me, spank me, spank me…..”

Her hips rocked, grinding her pussy on Eamon’s fingers, lifting her bottom to the scalding impact of the spatula.  Eamon knew he could not spank her hard enough to satisfy the masochistic need for brutality that was cresting in his naughty wife’s being, but he gave her as much of the sexual sadist within him that he dared.   It was the one thing that dovetailed them perfectly.

He knew she was close to the edge of climax when she began to beg him to spank her harder.  That’s when he decided to up the stakes and take the spatula lower.  He felt the shock shoot straight through her when the spatula blasted the fleshiest part of her very white and completely unprepared upper right thigh.

“Unnnng!” Sheila’s cry was guttural, her body tensed back arched, her pussy ground down hard on Eamon’s hand.

Eamon repeated the same maneuver to the other thigh.  This made Sheila cry out.  “Ow! Ouch!  Oh shit!”

“Want me to stop?” Eamon smacked her right thigh even harder.  

“No! OW! No,” she tensed again this time squeezing and trying to twist her bottom down away from the next smack.  

Eamon chuckled and tightened his hold on her pelvis forcing her to flex her bottom back up.   He delivered another searing swap to even up her left thigh noting the livid marks that would likely be there for several days, and then returned his attentions to the hot swollen cheeks that were more adapted to the enterprise.  When he felt her hips again begin to ride the sexual beast of the spanking, he gave her a warning.   

“Don’t you dare come until I’ve blistered you proper.”

“OK I’ll try. Do it harder honey, Spank me hard!” her breath came in short gasps matching the now tentative hump and grind of her pulsing swollen cunt on Eamon’s slippery hot fingers.  She needed to come, but also wanted to ride out the spanking for all of its potential.  Not only did she revel in every scalding kiss of wood against flesh, and Eamon’s brutal power she was eager for the prolonged after glow that always followed these hardest of sexual spankings.

It was too much for her though, as Eamon spanked faster and harder all while working her slick dripping cunt. 

“I can’t!  Honey! Ow! Harder, Harder!  O fuck, ofuckofucofuckofuck, ow spankmespankmespankme, o fuckfufufufufufufuckfuck fuck OW!” Sheila’s cunt clamped hard around all four of Eamons fingers and the her hips fucked them while the rest of her spasms milked her juices from them.  Eamon stopped spanking and concentrated on filling his wife’s spasming cunt with his fist.  Sheila helped him by grinding hard onto his hand gasping in the sensory overload of one of the best sexual spankings she’d had in sometime.

When he felt his wife recover, Eamon gently with drew his full fist, and lifted her up to kiss him.

“You disobeyed me again didn’t you?”

Sheila giggled when their lips disengaged.  Her body now his completely obeyed the push he applied to her shoulders.  Her hands obediently reached for the front of his jeans when her knees reached the floor.  Eamon wrapped his hands tightly in her hair as she opened his fly and eased his rock hard cock out toward her eager open mouth.  He wasn’t going to last long, precum already oozed off his thick purple glans. 

“I’m going to fuck your face cunt,” he pushed hard right to the back of Sheila’s throat.   “Take it all cunt!” he thrust further.  Sheila gagged and wretched briefly before getting control of the reflexes his cock assaulted.  Eamon pulled back and the thrust in harder twice more before Sheila could manage his whole length. He held her face tight waiting for the panicked struggle that would come as she became breathless.  He yanked her hair hard when the first of her struggles began, letting her go only when her finger nails involuntarily clawed his thighs.  That one protracted deep throat tease was all he could manage though.  Eamon was fast approaching the point of no return.  Another minute of rapid thrusts and Sheila’s hungry suckling, and Eamon exploded into the back of his wife’s throat with a deep guttural howl.  “Suck it all bitch, swallow it.” 

Sheila obliged, working her mouth tongue and throat up and down his shaft pulling each jet and drop of his come into her until the last of the rhythmic contractions delivered the last drop.  That Sheila lapped with her tongue, stroking it tenderly around and over that now most sensitive part of him, looking up into Eamon’s eyes with dreamy thanks in hers.

Their macaroni dinner tasted especially good.  Sheila’s appetizer added some zing to the already salty dish, and her very swollen bruised bottom made sitting down with Eamon for lunch a particularly special experience.  

“I love you,” she whispered shifting on her seat blowing the steam off her first mouthful of cheesy pasta curls.  Eamon smiled, took her chin and kissed away that first bite.  “Love you too. Now eat your lunch or I’ll have to spank you again.”

The four days off that has started out so over shadowed by aimless restless tensions ended up being very calm and restful.  Eamon enjoyed them too, because a contented wife is a wife who will give him sex every day for as long as the spell lasts.  

 

A cure for a rant

Saturday, March 3rd, 2007

A Cure for a rant

©2007, patty

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.

 

 

Lindy’s Choice Part 2

Friday, March 2nd, 2007

Well over due…. ;)   but here you go…

Did you miss part 1?  Here it is.

Lindy’s Choice 2

By patty © 2007

Lindy appreciated the cold air that caressed her hot face when she stepped out of Brian’s office into the late fall morning.  Sipping the hot coffee that Amanda had pressed into her hand gave her something to focus on while she stood waiting for the bus that would take her to work.  Hardly five minutes passed before the lumbering diesel vehicle lurched and hissed to a stop, its doors folding open centered perfectly just a stride away from where she stood on the sidewalk.  The driver smiled and nodded as Lindy stepped up inside, shifting the bag with the sticky bunn inside over to the one holding the coffee.  Her right pocket held a new roll of transit tokens Steve gave her the night he rescued her from her post sentencing meeting with Brain her probation and discipline officer, so it was easy for her to retrieve and offer up the required fare and turn to find a seat.

Feeling deeply embarrassed and self conscious, she had to close her eyes and draw in a breath before making her way down the narrow bus isle to the seat she selected toward the back.  The bus was moving again before she got her bus legs under her properly.  The result was that she heaved just a little off balance and needed to press her left butt cheek into the side of a seat and the back of an older gentleman’s coat.  The contact intensified the burn left behind by the strapping she’d just endured.  She reacted with a clumsy apology and blush involuntarily.  The gentleman answered with a friendly understanding smile that made Lindy’s gut lurch with fear.  “He knows?” she worried.  She didn’t know bus culture.  His gentle acceptance of her clumsy invasion of his space registered odd and confusing for her.  Another thing to set her off balance….

When she made her seat, she forced a stoic detached expression to fix on her face, but she couldn’t stop the embarrassed crimson blush that washed over her cheeks and forehead when her scalded bottom tingled against the well worn vinyl seat beneath her.  It felt cold even through her wool slacks, but that sensation was transient.  Her bottom warmed the surface beneath her very quickly.  That reality reminded her of the comment Brian made before he’d started her first spanking.  “It was going to be a long time before that part of her anatomy cooled down again.”  The irony of the momentary awareness of cold versus heat brought a smile and short stifled giggle.

The ride to her office was twenty minutes in the heavy morning traffic.  Lindy used the time to mull over the now more real aspects of her predicament.  She constructed a scathing speech to give her boss when she saw him later that morning.  He got her in to this!  “This!?” her mind hollered silently.  “I’m a grown up for crying out loud!  Who ever heard of a probation program where adults get spanked like this?  Heck, even parents aren’t supposed to spanking kids anymore?” she scolded the back of her mind where all the players in this “program” were lined up on the bench laid out exactly where her thoughts could issue them various pieces of her mind as they occurred to her.  If she’d been at home in her apartment, she’d move them out to her walls or chairs or other locations in the rooms around her and speak to them at will in full voice, but there on the public bus, she kept them inside her head and scolded them within its confines.  Her inner space was quite noisy that morning as she integrated the aftermath of her 1st spanking, the prospect of willingly keeping an appointment for another in just a few hours, and the reality that when she got to work and saw that wretch of a boss Steven, he would know that she’d just been spanked.  Not to mention she was incensed by the knowledge that he’d be getting a call to tell on her, and that he, the man who set her up for this whole thing, had a any kind of say about if her attitude needed more focused attention or not.  Intense anger and the desire to lash out clenched her soul.

While her thoughts bounced over all the various emotions she had to contend with, tensions in her body shifted from her tight sometimes grinding jaw, to tight chest, to clenching buttocks and tense stomach muscles.  Her senses were equally bombarded, her stomach churned, both welcoming and threatening to reject the coffee she sipped, her bottom stung a sensation that intensified with every lurch and shift of the bus, and then there was the more or less constant throbbing and tingling wetness deep between her thighs that just confounded every objection and angry thought she had about all of it.

She secretly let a truth she’d avoided for years surface as a rational thought.  With no plan, not intent, no design, she had actually found herself living a version of a fantasy she’d begun having as an adolescent.  A delinquent girl sentenced to reform school where daily spankings were dispensed by burly guards either as part of the sentence or for any of the many impossible not to make reform school rules infractions.  The major difference, sexy though the thoughts could be, this thing she was living was real.  The spanking she’d always wondered about was real, and it was way more more embarrassing and painful than she could have imagined.  On top of that her fantasies were childish (even if she still had them). She was a grown up, not a teenager.   “Besides that,” she frowned, tensing angrily again against the fundamental most humiliating issue she could not get past.  “Nobody punishes me.  Nobody tells me no.  I’m Daddy’s princess!  No body tells me no!!!!!!!!!”

That thought put some steam in her step as she got off the bus and climbed up the steep granite steps into the looming building that held the suite of offices where she worked.  The elevator ride induced even more intense irritation when after the first guy got off, even though she was alone, it stopped on every floor. If she’d had a brick, she might have launched it through the ornate lead glass door to the suite where she worked.  Instead, she fired the bag containing the now crushed sticky bun into the trash can beside Steve’s receptionist’s desk, punctuating the thud it made with a barely audible snarl.  “Fucking men!”

“Good morning Lindsay Michelle.”  The sound of her boss’s voice coming from the hallway off to her left startled her.  “Nice to have you here on time for a change,” he chuckled.

“Yeah well, take a picture for your scrapbook why don’t you, mark the occasion permanently for posterity.  Fuck you!  This whole thing is your fault.” Lindy’s snarl softened a little when she noted the confused expression on the receptionist’s face, and then she quickly pushed past her boss down the hall to her office away from eyes and ears that might glean too much of her current reality.

Steve followed her and pushed the door to her office closed leaning on it while Lindy threw her coat into the closet letting it fall to the floor and then without picking it up, slamming the door shut on it.  “Bad start to the week?”

“Just don’t OK!  You know how my week started!” Lindy threw the remains of her coffee into the trash next to her desk.

“At least you showed enough grit to give it a start before hand off your future,” Brian grinned.

“Start?  Start!!!!!!!?  Six months of humiliation or two years in jail,” Lindy kicked her chair turning her back to her boss, crossing her arms and staring out the window at the pedestrians rushing about on the side walk below.

“Bradley’s a wise man Lindy, and Locher’s done wonders with young women who were far more out of control than you are.”

“You set me up for this on purpose Steven!  It’s perverted!”

“It’s exactly what you need, and if you let it work for you, you’ll never deserve prison or find yourself unemployed instead of moving up the ladder where that brilliant mind has the potential to take you.” Steve came up behind her and firmly gripped and shook his young favored designers’ shoulders.

“How did you know about it?” Lindy tried to let her temper seethe away and out of her mood.

“I told you Bradley’s an old friend.  I’ve had the privilege to meet some of the reformed young ladies who have turned their reckless lives around thanks to him and the program he and Locher have put together.  I’d had it in mind to send you too him a month ago, and if you hadn’t escalated your own fate with that infant’s tantrum on the highway, you were on the fast track to being given a similar choice just to keep this job.”

“I would have quit you!” Lindy hissed.

“No doubt,” Steve nodded.  Now we’ve both got better choices.  I keep a talented designer and you get an opportunity to climb out of a reckless self destructive spiral with consequences that won’t include the stigma of a criminal conviction and two lost years spent in prison.

“It hurts like hell you know?” Lindy growled turning to sit down at her desk.

“I’m sure it does, but that’s not the main focus of the program Lindy, the spanking is a tool to get at your attitude, instill some respect for a force outside your own will and teach you just a little humility.”

“Humiliation you mean.”

“Humiliation?  Is that it?  More so than being herded into a prison, strip searched and having your every move dictated by people with half your intelligence, talent and potential?  How long do you think it would take your spirit to break, or worse for you to make an enemy out of someone meaner than you and find yourself severely beaten up or worse?”

Lindy hadn’t quite let her mind flesh out that angle of the alternative.  The time factor, two years versus six months had been her primary deciding focus.  Maybe the evils of the choices she’d been given weren’t as equitable as they’d begun to seem earlier that morning when her bottom was being scalded by that strap.  Just maybe the one she’d chosen was just a bit more merciful when balanced with the evils of her personality and the habits she’d acquired.

At least she was free to come and go to work, pick what she wanted to eat, watch on TV or wear.  She had a lot of autonomy with her job.  She had people to talk to and could shut the door on anyone she had no patience with.  Monotony and mindlessness were two things for which Lindy had no tolerance.  When Steve left her office, Lindy astonished herself with a transient petulant thought, “not having her car and having to put up with a 9PM kerfew were actually the most aggravating parts of this whole deal.”  She laughed at that and let her spirits rise out of the funk they’d been wallowing in for the last several days.

*****

Amanda greeted Lindy with a smile, when she made it back to the probation office 15 minutes before her 12:30 appointment.  “Oh I’m so glad you came back!” the young lady grinned.

“You did this before too right?” Lindy sighed trying to quell the nervous fluttering in her chest.

“Yeah 6 months or 5 years.  I’m on probation now.  A year.”  “Did they make you come to work here?” Lindy wondered if somehow Amanda’s employment was part of the deal for here.  “Heck no.  I was doing books for an accounting firm when Brian’s first girl quit to get married and move to Denver.  This job pays better and it’s no where near as boring.”

Lindy had to laugh.  “Not boring?  I bet!”  Further chat was interrupted.

The sound of the notice bell and the glass door opening behind them startled both Amanda & Lindy.  A couple came in with a blast of cool air.  It was immediately clear to Lindy that he was more comfortable being there than she was.  She eyeballed both and wondered why they were there.

“Hidy there Amanda, sorry about Meggie here running late,” the man offered a jovial greeting.  Lindy saw the woman blush and felt her cringe against Lindy’s involuntary scrutiny.  Their eyes locked, and they both knew.  Lindy felt a crushing exposure, and she knew that the woman felt it too.

“Hi Mr. Collins, Mrs. Collins, Mr. Locher’s expecting you and he told me to send you right in.” Amanda walked over to the doorway to Brian’s office and knocked before pushing it open. “The Collins’ and Miss Goodison are here boss.”

Lindy heard the leather desk chair inside the office creek before she heard her probation officer’s voice.

“Good,” Brian spoke from within, and then appeared at the door.  “Come in Mr. and Mrs. Collins.” He gestured them in, then turned to give Lindy a smile, before issuing an order to Amanda.  “Am, would you take Lindy back to the quiet room.  There’s some reading material for here there.  You know the routine.”

“Yessir,” Amanda frowned and nodded.  “I’ll be right with you my girl,” he addressed Lindy this time his smile was gone, and his expression was so firm Lindy felt what seemed like an edge of cruelty.  “Go with Am and follow her instruction.”

That was it.  He closed the door leaving Lindy with a now somewhat subdued Amanda.

“I guess you had a bad morning?” Amanda asked as she led Lindy down a short hall behind her desk.

“Why do you ask that?” Lindy wondered, a little confused by the changed atmosphere.

“Corner time is reserved for when you let your temper get the better of you.” Amanda explained.

“Huh?” Lindy wasn’t following the explanation.

“You’ll get the hang of it.  In here the routine is that you go to that corner where the screen and key board are.  Amanda guided Lindy into a room smaller than the one behind Brian’s office, but similarly furnished.  Spanking implements hung on one wall above a single bed.  A plush love seat and matching chair formed a conversation group in front of a fireplace, but across from that, almost hidden behind and to the left of the door was a sparse corner with a flat panel screen and key board mounted chest high above two painted foot prints.  Three feet away oddly placed in the middle of the room was a sturdy high backed chair with a broad wooden hairbrush placed bristles down on the seat.

“When I close the door, you go over there, stand on the feet, pull down your pants and panties so your bum is bare, then read the file he has open for you on the computer.  He’ll know if you don’t do it promptly OK.  You really don’t want to get the strap tonight after this,” she nodded ominously to the brush on the chair.  “So, take my advice, get em down and get reading as soon as I close the door, OK?” Amanda quickly closed the door.

Lindy’s groin heaved with a panicked spasm.  Before she could say anything else Amanda was gone, and the door closed.  “Corner time?” she whispered turning to look at the oddly set up corner.  Scanning the rest of the room, Lindy resisted obeying the advice and orders she’d been given.  To do so would mean that she’d have to face whatever was there on the screen, and the reality that the next spanking of her punishment was even more imminent.

While she had absolute faith in the sincerity of Amanda’s advice, knowing that the girl most likely spoke from experience, Lindy’s pride was like choke weed in her throat.  “I’m not going to stand here in an empty room with my ass bare just waiting to get a spanking!”

Even as she said the words though, she found herself kicking off her shoes, laying her coat over the arm of the love seat and then turning to walk toward the screen.  Her fingers lingered over the keys, clicking enter to bring the waiting text up from behind the screen saver.  The Bold Black text sent a sharp surge of energy straight through her electrifying her skin with pins and needles.  It may as well have been the tall spanker standing behind her firmly issuing the command.

“GET YOUR PANTS DOWN NOW OR YOU WILL BE ONE SORRY YOUNGLADY”

Lindy’s fingers fumbled with the button and zipper of her slacks, feeling the hot blush of embarrassment as her will was breached and her hands pushed her pants and panties down to her knees. When she stood the screen flickered and the page scrolled.  She read the lecture prepared for her demanding she address throwing things, using foul language and blaming other people for getting her into the situation she was in.  The scolding words reminding her that she had some long hard thinking to do about her selfish outlook, complete lack of impulse control and arrogant disinterest in the thoughts, feelings, and needs of other people.  She thought she’d read to the end when the screen blinked and scrolled again.  Now young lady you will spend the next ten minutes while you wait for me to come in there and make this into firm and more physical impression on your bare backside, composing your apologies for this morning’s misdirected outbursts of temper to both your boss and his receptionist.  I expect to hear them before we finish our session this afternoon.  Be mindful that you still have another reckoning to face this evening at 9PM.

Lindy couldn’t help the tears that burned up in the corners of her eyes, or the seething bilious anger that churned and bubbled up in her throat.  It took everything in her to control the urge swing her hands up to smash the keyboard up into the screen.  Instead her hands came up to cover angry sobs that threatened to become a tirade of obscenities.

She could not stand the rollercoaster of emotions that these people had her trapped on.  She yelled at Steve all the time, and what the hell did his receptionist have to do with any of it.  Lindy barely remembered seeing her at all never mind having said or done anything to warrant an apology.  She’d let Steve tell her off, hell she’d even let him convince her that this was a wiser choice than jail!  “Fuck!” she stomped her foot and punched her thighs with fists balled tight against her frustration.

“I heard that,” Brian’s voice invaded the room.  “Goddamn! Don’t do that!” Lindy whirled around to confront the tall, very stern man who was leaning back to latch and lock the door.

“Come on over here,” Brian’s demeanor barely registered Lindy’s startle.  He took one long step, reached over, took her wrist and within a second had her securely placed across his rock hard thighs.  “I know you’re just getting used to this discipline program Lindy, but I’ve got to tell you I had you pegged as a gal with more sense than you’ve shown me today.  You just got a very sound spanking and a no nonsense talking to about expectations this morning, and what’s the very 1st thing you do after I give you a break for saucy attitude with me?  You stomp into work throw something at your boss’s assistant without so much as a hello or good morning, and then you let him have it and blame him for the predicament you and only you are responsible for getting into.”

“Well Lindy, my girl, we’re going to escalate your introduction to the program.  Either you’re going to wake up to this as a DISCIPLINE program with the emphasis on SELF discipline, or you’re going to wash out, loose your job and hand your life over to the state department of corrections for two years and nine months.

Brian ignored Lindy’s struggles and attempts to argue and laid his hand on hard with the first part of her second spanking.

Most of the color was gone from the first spanking, though a few fading edge and end stripes from the strap were there on the outside edge of Lindy’s right butt and thigh.  In a few minutes Brian’s hand managed to restore the morning’s crimson hue.  Livid welts made where her flesh exploded up between his relaxed but firm and rapidly flying fingers took on the darker shade of red that would later become purplish and sore.  Every impact of his experienced hardened hand against her too sore and sorry bottom left first a blanched then deeper red scalding impression.  This was a much longer and harder spanking than the one she’d been given that morning, but at first, it didn’t sink in as well as the first one had.  Lindy was already crying angry tears before it began, so it was all but impossible for her to stop the tears, but her pride and anger forced her to fight through both the pain and especially the required submission.  Brian felt it, and expected it based on the defiance she’d struggled with, with him earlier in the day, with her life going into work and in this room while she waited for this to begin.   Ten minutes in, Lindy finally betrayed the limits of her resistance and screamed.  “Stop!  Please stop!”

That was the signal Brian was working for.  “Lindy my girl, now the spanking you need can begin.”

The guttural scream that came out of her when the hairbrush made first impact on her already pulverized backside shocked her.  It registered that there was a whole lot more of her bottom that had not yet felt the horrific deeper burn of the wood surface of that brush than Amanda had telegraphed such worry about.  Now she understood, but there was nothing she could do now but live through it and hope to put away a permanent memory never to put herself in a position where personal experience had to fill in the blanks that others tried to warn her about.

Brian made sure that the brush made a thorough and well distributed impression.  Lindy’s pride and resistance lost all hold on her after the first few smacks, so did her ability to think at all.  This pain and Brian’s determined application of it accomplished what nothing ever had for Lindy before, a complete blanking of selfish thought and total absorption in time and something outside her control.

When he let her up she was mute, pliant and receptive to his touch and embrace, but mute.  Even the reminder that she’d earned a strapping for her next session raised little more than a nod.  Lindy spoke the apologies she would give with sincerity, though there was a fatigue in the words that told Brain she would not be able to offer them to their owners with the same truth as she spoke them to him now.  He elected not to demand she give them yet.

*****

 

Lindy and Amanda had lunch together, though little was said.  Amanda and Brian both gave her a hug before sending her back to work.  Sometime after 2PM, both Lindy and Brian stopped time in their lives to think about what they were doing.  Brian felt worry that this assignment, and this client was going to test his innate sense of limits and tempt him into uncharted territory.  Lindy worried that Brain was going to tell her she was too much trouble and throw her out of his program.

Lindy wasn’t broken by any means, just stunned by some possibilities.  One; she could become someone others found genuinely likeable, and two; there was a man who’d come in to her life who was everything she’d dreamed of from her first thoughts of who she could need.

Shifting in her chair trying to focus on the fractal images she’d invoked with her computer and the home space design ideas they inspired, Lindy winced and groaned.  Her bum was so sore.  The brush had done what the strap couldn’t.  It left behind reminders that hurt when she sat.  Her bottom wasn’t just on fire, her bum tissues hurt when she walked.  Literally every movement reminded her she’d been spanked and refreshed the knowledge and anticipation that there were more spankings to come.  Both fear and comfort were associated with all of it for her…. For the moment confusion overshadowed the comfort, and it was going to be a while before she could face and own what lay hidden beneath confusion, but she had at least gotten past fighting her choice.

She resolved to tell Brian she would try harder when he came to her apartment to administer the spanking scheduled for tonight.

 

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.