On 3/18/2013, Erica Was Flexible

You laugh. But as I'll be the first to admit, flexibility is not my strong suit. It's not even my weak suit. Hell, it's not even in my wardrobe.

I had hoped that Mr. D and I could return to our Monday afternoon/evening routine, now that things have quieted down for him. However, his teenage daughter, who was living with her mother, has now moved in with him. So, until they get a routine established and she is settled, he wants to be home in the evenings for dinner. So he contacted me last night and asked if 10 o'clock was too early for me.

Uh... you mean, a.m.? *gasp*

I am a creature of habit, y'all. I don't relate to Sheldon Cooper on Big Bang Theory for nothing. Mondays follow a set pattern; I get up around 8:30, have breakfast and coffee, and head for the gym to get the first workout of the week over with. Then I come home, shower, dress and get ready for Mr. D later. And after he leaves, I (then in a blissful stupor) settle in for the night. However, with Mr. D planning to be here from 10 a.m. until 3 p.m., I would have to do things in reverse order. Damn. Who feels like suiting up and heading for the gym after a long spanking session? Not me!

But I did it anyway. Because I wanted to see Mr. D, and I need to work with him and his life, which is wayyyyy fuller than mine. Because it won't freaking kill me to be a little more fle... fl... flexi... f-word.

So at 10 a.m., I was ready. At least he could stay a while this time -- none of that two-hour nonsense. I was fully buzzed on my morning coffee when he arrived and very happy to see him.

We don't start playing right away; we always talk. Sometimes for as long as an hour. But eventually, he'll grin at me, pat his lap and say, "C'mere, you."

Today, I didn't particularly need stress release. I didn't need to cry. I just wanted to hunker down and revel in the sensations, and he delivered them with aplomb. (and a peach, too) I am so loving this newer technique he's got going on, where I can't tell what he's going to do next, where the flurries take my breath away. 

Of course, some things never change. You know how tops are; they all have their signature phrases and questions that they ask over and over, thinking they'll get a different answer at some point. With ST, it was "Oh, does that hurt?" (insert eye-roll) And with Mr. D, it's "Who's in charge here?" To which I always calmly give the obvious reply: "I am." "We'll see about that!" he blusters. OK, I'm waiting. What is it I'm supposed to see? :-)

I'm so glad Mr. D likes all styles of panties. I have boy shorts, tangas, bikinis, thongs -- he loves them all. Today, I had a very cute, brightly colored thong.

You can't see from the back, but the front had a bright turquoise bow, the same color as my shirt. Despite the meager protection they offered, they still didn't stay up.

He alternated between his hand, the leather paddle and a wooden paddle, so swiftly that I could barely tell what was what. It went on until I was just teetering at the edge. Then he leaned down and whispered, "Are you ready to rest for a while?"

To this, I vigorously shook my head. "That's my girl," he said. "Finish me," I whispered back. "Please finish me." He did.

After that, he sat beside my head on the bed, stroking my hair. Not even opening my eyes, I crawled up against him so that my head rested on top of his thigh. He took some more photos. Honestly, I didn't like how any of them came out; I didn't think they were flattering of me. I freaking hate my big ears! But perhaps you guys will like this. It's a lovely moment.

Doesn't he have a delicious skin tone? He's American born, but his heritage is Hispanic (although I think I know more Spanish than he does!).

I was in a sweet, dreamy state after that. I murmured something along the lines of "You're such a wonderful man," and he replied, "I want to make you feel like that, too."

"You want to make me feel like a wonderful man?" 

"No, smart-ass. You know what I meant. I want to make you feel wonderful."

"You do."

Guess what I showed him? I dragged the old chestnut "Naughty Secretaries Week Part 2" out of my closet -- my first video ever, from 2000. I was thinking he'd laugh at it, but he liked it! "This is 13 years old??" he asked. "You look the same!"

"Oh, get out of here," I snorted. But he insisted. "Your butt hasn't changed at all. If I didn't know when this was from, I'd have thought you shot it a few months ago."

I'd say his check is in the mail, but I don't have any money. So my eternal gratitude is in the mail.

He left at 3:30, and I reluctantly scraped myself together, put on workout clothes and got my butt to the gym. Ever do an intense workout right after a spanking? I do not recommend it. But that perverse part of me welcomed the biting sting. I was so mellow and happy, I didn't even care that it was now prime time and everyone and their uncle was at the gym, so I had to wait for nearly every damn machine. I stood patiently waiting, thought about where I'd just come from and smiled. Ah, if only all these people knew the state of my bottom beneath these leggings.

Mr. D assures me that the time switch is temporary. He, too, likes being able to stay into the evening, go to dinner, etc. But for however long it is, I'll work with him. I'll try to be... you know. That damned f-word.

He's definitely worth it. ♥