Time for Maintenance

First there was the talk.  Michael addressed several things including the fact that I haven’t been drinking enough water, that he’s concerned about my foot and that exercise is to be moderate right now, no going overboard, and then there was that bit about my schedule and my recent lack of follow through.  He said that he wasn’t upset or even disappointed, but that he expects me to get back on track.  Then he motioned me to climb onto the bed and over his knee.  I put my hands under his leg and he started.  His implements of choice were one of the wooden spoons and the small curved wooden paddle.  Somehow I managed to stay in position and keep my legs down.  Oh, I squirmed a bit, but often he ends up putting his other leg over mine because otherwise I’m all over the place.  Perhaps it helped that he’d warmed me up already.  Oh, you see, this was what occurred after the apron came off.

He spanked me for awhile, or at least it felt like awhile!  He’d stop every now and then and talk to me some more, and then start back in again.    At one point I really thought he was done, but then he said that he was going to give me just a few more to make sure I remembered.  Those last few were more intense, that’s for sure!  Still, I managed to stay in place, well, mostly.  I mean, I didn’t hold perfectly still.  But who can manage that anyway?  And he wants to know I’m feeling it, right?  Right.  And I was certainly feeling it!  When he really was done I found that I was upset and so I told him that I was mad at him.  He wanted to know why.  I told him that I thought I’d done so well, that I’d held still, I hadn’t fought him and so I felt those last few were unnecessary and unfair.  He didn’t get upset; he remained calm and simply explained from his point of view.  I let his words and demeanor soothe me as I lay over his knee still. 

When I got up I asked him to close his eyes and hold out his hands.  He looked at me questioningly at first, but I asked again nicely and he complied.  I got the wooden hairbrush off the dresser and laid it in his hands and then I positioned myself on the corner of the bed.  This is the implement and position for a discipline spanking.  I think he was surprised when he opened his eyes, but I said “for last weekend” and he understood.  My bottom was already tender and the hairbrush certainly made it more so.  I had a harder time holding still for this, but Michael’s hand on my back helped.  He didn’t administer too many swats, but I certainly felt each one.  He remarked that I must have really been feeling guilty to have asked for discipline, and he was right.  This was a kind of penance I suppose.  Somehow ttwd wipes the slate clean and we can start anew.

Next came corner time.  I could hear him rummaging around behind me, pulling the sheets down on the bed, etc.  And then he was behind me, pulling me back against him, one hand on my throat, another on my nipple, pinching, pulling.  He held me there for a moment and then spun me around, kissed me, and then pushed me to my knees.  I knew what he wanted, what he expected, and so I took him into my mouth.  His moans of pleasure encouraged me.  And when he pulled me up, he whispered in my ear “you always do such a good job when your bottom is red.”  It’s not the first time he’s told me that.  He kissed me deeply, passionately, and then pushed me back onto the bed and told me how he wanted me to position myself.  And then I found myself riding on waves of pleasure, crashing on the shore, only to head back out into the ocean again.  When we were cuddling afterward Michael commented that he had certainly enjoyed himself, but that he was feeling a bit jealous of me.  He wanted to know how many times.  “Three, my love,” and then I giggled and told him that we women like to tell you men how lucky you are that you can pee anywhere, but we wouldn’t really want to trade places, there are benefits to being a woman too, ya know!  We both had a good laugh and headed off to dreamland in each other’s arms.

It was a wonderful end to the weekend.  Monday morning I couldn’t help but check in the mirror and I was surprised to see that my bottom was still a little pink.   I didn’t see any marks or bruises or anything though.  I could feel a lasting reminder throughout the day, especially when sitting on a wooden chair in the dining room.  I keep saying that I’m going to buy chair pads, but Michael keeps telling me no, or worse, he’ll say “burlap.”  Hmmph!  He’s gone again, off supporting his family, me, us, the kids.  It sounds like I won’t see him until at least Thursday, perhaps not until the weekend.  He asked me a couple of times this weekend if this was how I wanted things, him being the HOH, me being submissive, doing ttwd.  Of course I assured him that it was exactly what I wanted.  He said that it’s what he wants to.  I think we’re in a good place right now.  I know I’m happy.  I hope he is too.


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