Brunch

Brunch part 1

I love antiquing. I don't even need to buy anything. Really, I have so much crap at home, I need to have a sale, not buy more. But I still love going into the shops. Looking at the old furniture and the stuff. Items range from clothes to no longer made fine China to tools that can't be found anymore. I love the look and feel of things as they age. The better they are, the higher the quality of the materials and craftsmanship, the better they age. You can always tell what was respected, cared for, cherished. We've been to 3 of my favorite shops today and it's not even 11 am yet.

I love this weekend every year. His company Christmas party is always so much fun. And I think they must be the only company left that does things like provide drinks in the hotel bar ahead of time. There are also appetizers, dinner, dancing and unbelievably an open bar all evening. They are a good company to work for, responsible and they care about their employees. So this weekend every year after the party they also provide everyone with a room in the hotel. I've had a few good jobs over the years but nothing that comes with a perk like this.

We always go to this party and stay the night. On rare occasions we have to leave early the next morning because he has to get back to work. This year is one of the good years. He has the next two days off. So we're making a long weekend of it. He arranged to keep us in the same room for 2 more nights. Just us, no kids, no work, no responsibilities. The party was a riot last night. I tired out and went back to our room before midnight. He didn't come back until well after 3 am. I don't know how he does that. But at 6:45 we were both wide awake. It is our normal wake up time after all.

This morning was special though. He told me right away that he had the whole day planned. Shower, breakfast, antiquing and then brunch back at the hotel. He knows I love antiquing, I realized suddenly that he planned this day around me. His only time off in months and he planned it around me. We showered together and then I had him for breakfast (see story Breakfast). His last words before we got dressed and left the room were....

"I hope you enjoyed your breakfast because for brunch it's my turn..."

We headed out and he asked me to go down to the breakfast nook in the lobby and make us each a coffee. I don't know what he forgot but he headed back to the room. We met in the lounge area between the breakfast nook and the front doors just a few minutes later.

All day his words have been in the back of my head. One moment I'm engrossed in an antique colonial mahogany dinner table with six leaves and an amazing 16 chairs plus 2 captains chairs. The next moment I'm remembering him looking at me and saying that and chuckling quietly. I've practically been dripping all day. Oh how deeply I want to return to the hotel room.

As we leave the third shop he says it's time for brunch. I smile but we've had some snacks out in the shops and I'm not really hungry. I decided not to say anything. Besides I'm fairly certain that brunch will be a private affair and that I will be the only item on the menu. The drive back is pleasant. It's unusually nice out for mid December in the Northeast. Bright blue sky, dry, sunny. There is a chill in the air but 37 degrees this time of year is practically a gift. We park and wander our way back into the hotel. He heads toward the nicer of the two hotel restaurants. I love that he is being a bit lavish with me but I feel a twinge of disappointment. Further I feel wrong going in there now. I'm really not hungry. I slow down a bit and he turns to me.

"You don't like the restaurant? Don't you want to have brunch with me?" I'm stunned by his questions. How could he think I don't like this restaurant? We've eaten here before: enough times that I have a favorite appetizer! And worse, what would make him think after all these years that I would ever give up any opportunity to dine with him! Now I stop in my tracks for real.

"Are you kidding? I like it here, you know that! And we are both so busy we don't even get to eat dinner together half the time. I always want to dine with you."

"So what is the problem?" He is being so snippy with me, I don't understand why. Everything was fine just seconds ago. I take a deep breath and explain that I'm just not hungry after the snacking at the shops. He just stands there staring directly into my eyes. Then everything changes. His whole face smiles and he shakes his head a little and then he starts laughing at me.

"Gotcha!" He manages to say as he puts his arm around me and steers us in the opposite direction. "I told you earlier, it's my turn for brunch, back to the room we go".

Relief, excitement and joy flood through me as I mock punch his shoulder. The elevator ride to our floor takes forever. As we exit the elevator a passel of children push past us. We aren't far down the hall. And duck into our room quickly. I walk about three feet into the room and stop dead. I turn and look at him. He is still smiling but his expression has changed. The laughing and light hearted attitude is gone. He is unreadable despite his smile. He brought our gear. I had no idea. It looks like he brought all of it. Ropes, paddles, a few whips, soft restraints, gags, nipple clamps, dildos, lube. I'm so shocked I don't hear his instruction. I do hear him when he leans forward and grabs a fistfull of my hair. He slowly pulls me to him and up so that I'm on my tip toes. His head is bent down and his lips are next to my ear.

"I said strip, do not make me repeat myself again". So quiet, so calm... so frightening. My heart is pounding. I can hear my blood coursing through my head. My breathing is shaky. I strip as quickly as I can without falling over.

"That little display of ignoring my first instruction to strip has earned you 10 strokes of my belt before we even begin. Choose where you want them. Ass, back of thighs, front of thighs, tits.... your pussy? Choose quickly or I'll choose for you"

"My ass" I splutter out as quickly I can. Last time I took too long. He chose my belly. I never want to be punished on my belly again. He swears he didn't hit any harder then when he hits my tits. It hurt much more. I actually called yellow during it. More than once.

"Bend over the table and don't be shy, spread those legs nice and wide. Oh, I want you up on your tiptoes for the duration of your belting."

I walk over to the only table in the room and bend over. I hold on to the far side and spread my legs as wide as I can. Then I remember he wants me on my toes. I push up onto my toes and a ragged breath escapes my lungs. I'm shaking. I know I can take this but I'm so surprised and excited and off balance that I'm having trouble keeping calm. I'm sure he notices but this is punishment not play. I know he won't make physical contact with me again until it's done. No hand on my back or shoulder. No fingers trailing along my skin. No encouragement. No reassurance. No touch from him of any kind until I take my punishment for failing to obey. It's the defining difference between punishment and play for me and he knows it. I hate the feeling of having to get through it on my own. I don't mind taking the beating but I really suffer the lack of connection with him. He could make me stand facing a wall in silence and ignore me for half an hour and it would be just as bad. He forces the separation. It's like an insurmountable wall between us. It hurts to know he can be that cold to me. But that's exactly the point. I screwed up and he is damn well going to see to it that I pay.

"You know the drill, count and thank me appropriately."

This means count each stroke and say thank you sir for teaching me to obey you. He's right, I know this drill. Early on in our BDSM relationship there was a lot of this sort of drill while I learned his rules. He never actually told me the rules. Just punished me for breaking them as we went along.

Wow that makes it sound like we live the lifestyle. That is so not the way it is. We live our regular life. Work, kids, meals, cleaning up, yard work. We have good days and bad ones. We don't fight much but it does happen. All the normal everyday shit we all deal with. We just like to play hard every now and again. This weekend is shaping up to be a very good session.

Smack, pain blossoms across both of my ass cheeks. I get the number one out right away. Then as the pain dulls to an ache and then becomes more like a warmth building in my skin, I take a deep steadying breath and say "thank you sir for teaching me to obey." As soon as I finish saying the word obey the next stroke hits. It is just slightly harder than the first. I gasp this time as I try to come to terms with the pain. I manage a solid "two" and take another breath. After I thank him he waits a few moments before laying stroke three on me. This one hits a little higher toward the upper part of my ass. I hiss in pain. It takes me a couple of minutes to count and thank him.

He doesn't rush me. I asked him why once. After all, I've watched videos of this kind of scene. They are always telling the sub not to take too long or it will cost them extra strokes. He laughed at that. His response was that this was real life not a video. By letting me take my time he was letting me draw out my own punishment. And by waiting longer between strokes it allows the full effect of the pain to reach me. In fact, he said, the longer between strokes the better. That way I don't get numb and I get to feel every bit of pain from each stroke as completely as possible. I didn't understand at first but as part of our play once he gave me a long hard spanking. He swears he was hitting way harder at the end then in the middle or the beginning but I swear it hurt far less toward the end. My backside had just sort of gone numb to the pain. So, it's ok if I take a while, I'm the one who pays the price for it.

And smack!!! Ugh that one hit lower on the very bottom of my ass. It hurts more and somehow feels better at the same time. Definitely my sweet spot. One breath, two. I can do this. "Four, thank you sir..."

I hear him moving around but I stay in position. A few more minutes go by and out of nowhere number five lands on that same sweet spot low on my ass. It's been at least 10 minutes and I'm only half way through. It takes another 15 to get through the next 3 Strokes. 2 of them on that same sweet spot. He is being uncharacteristically heavy handed. I'm certain I'm already bruising there. I'll have welts up higher on my ass but lower, from the repeated strokes on the same place, definitely bruising. That's 8 of the 10 done. My legs are shaking slightly. I start to notice some pain building in my calves from being up on my toes this whole time. My body shudders and I groan as I start to feel that ache deep inside that always accompanies my greatest moments of arousal.

I know what's coming. The last two will be much harder and in rapid succession. I will have to count and thank him for them separately after I receive them both. 9 hurts as badly as 8 did. It knocks my breath away. Tears run down my face. 10 is awful. Every muscle in my body clenches and I go completely stiff. A few seconds later I gasp for a breath of air and then cry out. It sounds like I've had the wind knocked out of me and a loud whimper at the same time. I call "yellow." He is next to me in an instant. He rubs my shoulders and tells me it's ok. I calm down slowly. Once I'm settled he looks more closely at my ass. He hasn't broken my skin but the repeated strokes to the same spot have raised a livid welted area and yes it's already bruising. He pulls me up and wraps his arms around me.

"Ok hun, finish your count right here, I've got you." I'm overwhelmed with gratitude. I expected him to pick back up with the no contact stuff. But here I am in his arms saying 9, thank you...

He leads me to the bed and smiles. He stops and looks at me. In the background we can hear people in the hallway and realize that the hotel has some sort of huge group staying there. And they are all there in the middle of the day, damnit. He swears under his breath but walks over to the TV and turns it on. He raises the volume a fair amount. I must have cried out louder than I realized. He's having to provide cover noise for us.

He guides me to lay down on my back with my head toward the bottom of the bed. Then he has me scooch my butt up toward the headboard, just a bit. Pretty soon my knees are secured wide apart to either side of my shoulders and to the footboard. Or maybe to the feet of the bed. I'm not sure but I can't close them or even pull them closer together. My feet are secured with the soles touching flat against each other. I'm staring straight up at my own heels. They are secured to the foot board as well. My hands and wrists get secured to the headboard so they are at my sides being pulled just below my hips. My ass is sticking up in the air with my lower back being slightly lifted off the bed as well. This leaves my ass, the back of my thighs, the inside of my thighs and my pussy completely open, exposed and presented up high.

He smirks at me. "What? You weren't expecting any privacy I hope. Not today my love. Today I get to see exactly how every stroke from each lovely implement not only looks on you but I get to watch you get wetter and wetter. Hell if you are very very good I may even check over your wet little pussy with my tongue."

As he walks around the bed checking the bindings he touches me constantly. Running his fingers and hands all over me. He stops to kneed my bruised ass. Pressing his knuckles into the bruise rather forcefully. I whimper very quietly. "Good" I hear him croon at me, "that's supposed to hurt". The words are a stark contrast to the warm gentle tone. He stops and asks how I'm doing. I manage to say green and he begins again.

"I'm going to pick five implements to beat you with and you get to decide what order you want them in."

Oh holy hell. FIVE? He always beats me in sets of ten. That's 50 strokes over my ass, inner thighs and back of thighs. Shit...shit shit shit! I try to breathe steadily. Long deep breaths. And then a bit of dread comes over me. Oh damn, in this position there is no way I'm getting out of this without also taking strokes right on my pussy. I'm starting to get just a little bit scared. He watches as the emotions play across my face. He sees my eyes widen as I realize what's going to happen. Now he is really smiling. He looks happy as he reaches over and gently strokes the back of my right thigh with a long languid stroke. Brushing the back of his fingers from the back of my knee all the way to the bruise on my ass.

He brings his belt over and shows it to me. Shit. He shows me a light slapper from our collection. That one is easy. Next is a flogger. It has a dildo handle and a ton of thin purple rubber stands all about 18 inches. I've never seen it before. It doesn't look bad though. I wonder what getting hit by it will feel like. Implement 4 is a red plastic ruler. It's lightweight but packs a hell of a sting. The last item he shows me is a simple wooden kitchen spoon. My heart jumps. My pulse doubles and I take a shocked breath. We've played with that little bastard before. Nothing that small and innocuous looking should hurt as badly as it does. It also shouldn't be able to lay such deep hard bruises down but it does. And it does it with almost no effort on his part whatsoever. I start panting as I panic a little bit.

"Don't do that babe, don't freak yourself out. You know I'm not going to go full force on you. This is a bit of fun not torture. I know you're afraid of the spoon. I won't damage you. Yes it will hurt, yes you will bruise. But you will be ok. Look at me. Calm down, take a slow deep breath and hold it. Let out slowly. Again but slower this time..."

I do what he says. It helps a little. And suddenly a rush of pleasure runs through me starting in my pussy and going up into my belly.

"I guess you're not having as much trouble as I thought baby. Look at you, so delightfully wet already and we haven't even gotten going yet."

A long deep quiet moan escapes me. Somehow it feels like heaven in my over excited state. He is slowly rubbing a single finger up and down my slit. My dripping wet, hungry slit.