First spanking of 2013!

I had to wait all the way to January 2, dammit! (OK, I'm not really complaining. But I did read a whole lot of comments on FetLife about New Year's Eve/Day spankings and I wanted wanted wanted!)

Mr. D was late. Why am I mentioning this? Because Mr. D is always late. I tease him about it, because inevitably when he's due to turn up at my door, my phone rings and there's his sheepish voice on the other end. Hey, at least he's apologetic. John and I once had a friend who was never on time, and his flippant answer was "I'll get there when I get there." Hummmph. Anyway, I make sure I'm ready on time and then I just futz around on the computer or do some work until I get that call. Today, I told him he was constitutionally incapable of being punctual. He said I was asking for it. (gee, ya think?)

My snippy attitude continued when he arrived. I could hear him pressing on the doorbell, but he didn't press hard enough and it clicked, but only part of the chime rang. I opened the door and pointed to the buzzer. "You know, it's a very simple mechanism. You just press it." All in fun, you understand. He knew I was delighted to see him. :-)

Bottoms, ever notice how sometimes, for reasons unknown, your tolerance varies? You're insatiable one time, and the next time, it hurts like hell? I used to think it was hormonal, but I don't deal with monthly cycles anymore. Anyway... tonight was one of those holy-crap-this-hurts-oh-my-god nights. Not so much with his hand, but once he started with the implements, I was struggling. It wasn't any harder than usual; it was just my body tonight. Or perhaps my head, but I was in a good mood. Oh well. Always trying to explain things I can't explain.

He gave me little breaks. He reminded me to breathe, caressed my hair. But I still couldn't keep position well -- I reared up, twisted, kicked. "You're all right," he'd say. "You're OK." Somewhere within, I knew I was, but DAMN, it hurt.

And he keeps saying he feels it with me! The hell he does! I know he means it figuratively -- that when I let out a deep groan or writhe fiercely, he knows I'm really feeling it. He can see it and hear it. But no, he sure as @#$% doesn't feel it!

So tonight when he said it, I screeched, "No, you DON'T!" "Yes, I do," he replied, not missing a beat. Stubbornly, I repeated, "No, you do NOT."

"Don't argue with me," he said calmly. "Now tell me -- do I feel this one?" And he really smacked me one. "AAAAAGGGGH!!! Yessir!" I squeaked. "That's better," he smiled. Damn tops.

Eventually, I stopped struggling and gave in to it, breaking down and crying "Please.... please..." Then he knew how close I was. Then he knew he could finish.

He's so very gentle with me afterward. He wraps me up in the comforter, makes sure I'm warm. Holds me close, wipes my tears, fills my ears and brain with sweet, soothing words. I'm lost in sensation... tenderness and sensual caresses run parallel with the stinging and burning still assailing me, even though the spanking is over. For a very long time, all I can do is make sounds. Speaking coherently is out of the question.

Sex is a powerful connection. But so is this. People either get that or they don't. I'm so very glad that he does.

He couldn't stay too much longer -- sadly, he had a service to attend. So I watched him pack up his stuff.

Looks like the color went away, doesn't it? Nope. Here's how I looked, nearly five hours later:

Would you believe he's forgotten to bring back my panties two weeks in a row? I told him tonight he couldn't take them. He said we'd "discuss" that. Yeah. OK. He took them.

Perhaps I should just send him home one night with my entire panty drawer, what do you think? :-)

Happy New Year to you, Mr. D. I look forward to our first full year of spanking fun.