Thank you, thank you, a thousand times, thank you
It’s 10:30 PM and I am finally winding down. Long day — Mr. D in the morning, then the gym, then came home to work! Kind of a backwards day, no? But it worked nicely.
Mr. D got here a little after 10 AM, and we just talked for nearly two hours. Some of it was about play, technique, etc. — he agreed we would continue to ramp things up a bit, incorporate some discipline, push a few limits. I trust him more now, and my willingness increases with my trust. I also told him I’d really, really like it if he’d bring his belt and use that more. I know he’s concerned about wrapping and so forth, but practice makes perfect, no? Plus, I soooo love the belt.
We had the usual nice long warm-up on the couch, but he was a lot stricter about how I moved and when. Up until recently, I’ve been kicking and flailing my legs at will, but now, it’s “Don’t_you_move. No flinching.” I flinched anyway, and was rewarded with extra hard, extra fast flurries. “Hold still, baby.” I did. I grit my teeth, I whined and groaned, but I kept still. “Good girl.”
Then we moved to the ottoman, where I piled up cushions and settled onto them while he went to retrieve some toys. To my surprise, he also picked out one of my own belts. Mine are kind of lame (not too thick, well worn), but certainly good for a start. He also had chosen my senior rattan cane (shudder).
I started out with my hands behind my back; probably not the smartest idea. Because when I started to relax them back to my sides, he said, “Nooooo, no, leave them there. I like them there.” Oy. (Eventually, though, he let me put them back down.)
And yes, there was some spreading of legs. But he was good to me — he did that with panties ON. 😀
I did not want to wear those stupid socks. He insisted, saying my feet were cold. (sigh)
He alternated between fast-and-hard volleys with his hand, and implements. “I want you to say ‘thank you’ after every swat,” he said. Yeah, y’all know how I love that. Still, I muttered a few “thank-yous.” Until that first sharp and surprising stroke with the cane.
“FUCK you!” I hollered, and curled my feet up. “ExCUSE me??” he said. “Put those down!” He nudged my legs back into place with the cane, then warningly let it lie across my calves. “Now what was that? Was that ‘fuck you’ or ‘thank you’?” “Thank you,” I grumbled. “That’s better.” He then continued.
Trouble was, he was hitting faster than I could say the damn thank yous. “Come on,” he teased. “I know you can talk faster than that.” So I did.
He laughed. But he did slow down. A little. Until he went back to the hand, and gave me another fast volley.
After catching my breath, I mumbled, “Was I supposed to say ‘thank you’ after all those, too?” “No, I’ll cut you a break when they’re fast.” Oh, the man is a prince.
I completely zoned. I didn’t stop feeling it, of course. In fact, I reached the point where I was screaming full-bore into the cushions. But I didn’t want him to stop. I was going to take it well and please him. And I did. 🙂
He rewarded me with kindness, TLC, and ice.
That’s from last week, but you can see it there in the crease. Poor dear could use some hand lotion, too.
After we said goodbye, I took my sorry beaten arse to the gym. Oh. My. God. I’d been on the elliptical trainer about 20 minutes when I felt it — a surging of warmth and burning sting, especially in the sweet spot. And then, going from machine to machine and sitting on those hard leather seats, I was making faces and even muttering “Owwww, dammit,” a couple of times. This working out aprés spanking is for the birds.
But I had lots of endorphins to get me through. And still plenty of energy after I got home, enough so I could tackle a second job from a new client. Now it’s 11:00 PM, and I figure I’m about due for a crash. Bring it… I’m all done. And I feel great.
Mr. D, did I say “thank you” enough? ♥