It was late. I was tired. He had fallen asleep on the couch and I almost had too. It had been a good day, but a long one.
Earlier in the day he’d found all sorts of little ways to remind me of our roles, to remind me who’s in charge. We were driving, well, actually he was driving and I was sitting next to him, and he put his hand on my leg, in the way he does when he wants to hold my hand. When I didn’t respond quickly enough (in truth, purposely, just to see what his reaction would be…yes, I was testing him I suppose) he tapped his fingers impatiently on my thigh. Hmmm, ok, I guess that wasn’t a request after all and so I put my hand in his. A little later we were sitting next to one another at a table, watching a video presentation in a room full of others doing the same. I was teasing him, pretending that I was going to draw on him with my pen. He held out his hand and gestured for me to hand the pen to him with a look on his face that said he wasn’t playing. Oh, um, ok…I handed him the pen. He didn’t give it back until I needed it to write with a little later. There were several little things like that, sometimes in private, other times in public, and I found it…hmmm, what’s a good word…enthralling…or captivating maybe. I’m not sure either of those words is quite right actually, but you get the idea.
That evening I’d said to Michael “I guess I don’t have anything to worry about later.” I wasn’t being bratty and I didn’t say it with an attitude. It’s just that I knew what time he’d gotten up that morning and how tired he was likely to be later. I was curious if he was still planning to spank me. But I was also giving him the opportunity to tell me if it wasn’t going to happen that night because I’d rather him tell me than just not follow through. His response? "You keep telling yourself that.” Hmmm…ok…I decided to drop it and see what happened later.
By the time we headed upstairs I really wasn’t interested in anything other than sleep. I climbed into bed, pulled up the covers and snuggled into my pillow. He went to check on the kids and when he came back he leaned over me, a smile on his face, looking much more awake than I expected and said “I still owe you something.” Then he closed the bedroom door tightly and came back over and pulled the covers down. I was a little surprised, but he’s been very consistent lately, so I wasn’t that surprised. I feebly protested, not even sure myself if I meant it or not. I guess it wasn’t so much that I was protesting the spanking. I was just tired and had been looking forward to snuggling and drifting off to sleep.
He pulled me up off the bed and started to undress me. He didn’t say anything and he didn’t need to. I knew that he was going to spank me and I knew why. I also knew that I didn’t have any say in the matter. I’d agreed to this…no, it was more than that…I had brought this to him to begin with. It was my idea, my suggestion, my desire and he wanted to make me happy. But, it was more than that for him by now as well, it was also his desire and it made him happy. We’ve both noticed the positive impact that ttwd has had on our relationship.
He had me stand with my side toward him, the wooden spoon in his hand. He had me spread my legs, bend forward and place my hands on my knees. He started to spank and I tried to hold still. After he tired of that position, he had me bend over further and grasp my ankles. It was as if he was telling me that if I thought it was hard to hold my position with my hands on my knees, which admittedly I was struggling with, he could always make it more difficult for me. And it was more difficult, especially since that spoon was hitting my thighs now as well. Thankfully, he didn’t make me stay in that position long and for a brief moment I dared to hope that he was done. But as soon as I saw the look on his face I knew that wasn’t the case.
Next he had me position myself over his knee, my hands under his leg I was lying on. He started in on my already warm and tender bottom and my sensitive thighs. Then he pinned my legs down with his and ramped things up, hitting harder and faster. He was making sure every area was covered; making sure it was all the nice rosy shade that puts a smile on his face. As he spanked I realized that it was hard for me to clench my cheeks together how he had me positioned and that there was no hope of me squirming away, out of reach of the spoon. I concentrated on my breathing, not wanting to end up lightheaded. He’d pause every now and then and rub my bottom, and I’d be able to catch my breath and cool down a little bit, as I’d started to get quite warm. That wouldn’t last very long though because he’d find a new spot to hit or hit in the same spot several times in a row or start hitting harder or faster and I’d be trying to squirm away again, to no avail.
When he was done spanking me he decided to take things in a more erotic direction, but he was still very much in control of things, of me. He lay back on the bed, and I noticed that instead of putting the wooden spoon away, he’d set it at his side where he could easily reach it. He had me position myself perpendicular to him and take him in my mouth. While I sucked, his hands roamed over my body, rubbing here and pinching there. Then he reached for the spoon and started smacking my bottom. I started to moan as I sucked, just what he was after I’m sure. Next he wanted me on top of him and as he entered me he pulled me down close to him, holding me there tightly. As we moved in rhythm together he started to talk to me. He was talking about this thing we do and making me answer his questions. His language was a bit rougher around the edges than I’m used to from him, but surprisingly I didn’t mind.
Then it seemed as if he wanted to change position and so I moved off of him, waiting to see what he wanted next. What he wanted was for me to suck him again…after he’d been in me. Oh how I hate that and he knows it. It’s not something I’d ever do of my own volition. I don’t like the taste and just the idea of it makes me cringe. But, he made his wishes clear and I wanted to please him. He did have to coax me along though because I was really hoping he’d let me out of it and move on to something more pleasurable for both of us. Thankfully he didn’t make me linger there too long and he let me know that he knew it wasn’t something I enjoyed and that he appreciated me doing it for him.
After that he had me lay on my back and hold my legs up, spread wide for him. He had that wooden spoon in his hand again and a smile on his face. There were a few swats to my bottom and then several to my thighs and then he targeted the wetness between my legs, hitting much more softly of course, not hurting me, more tormenting me. It was so hard to keep still and keep quiet, but he told me to do so and somehow I managed. It wasn’t long before I didn’t have to worry about the spoon anymore; he was on top of me, holding me down and having his way with me. The pleasure washed over both of us and afterward he enveloped me, stroking my hair, my body, holding me close and letting me melt into him.
And to think, I’d been ready for bed when we went upstairs. I’d have been quite happy with just cuddling up and falling asleep. I’m so glad my husband had other ideas. ; )