Exhausted

Written over Thursday and Friday. The events happened Wednesday Evening.

OK, I'm going to ramble just a little bit more, and then I'll get on with it.

When I originally wrote the first draft of this chapter, I realized something about my relationship with my husband. We don't actually talk to each other very much when we're having sex or getting ready to. When we do talk, it's usually to share fantasies or to light each other up by saying something erotic or reminding each other of things we've done or things we've thought about.

It's hard to capture what we said to each other Wednesday night and write it down. There weren't many actual words that I can remember. Worse yet, most of what I can remember is stuff that I would have to explain to you. We "dance" with each other, knowing what we're going to do, knowing how we do it and not having to say much.

So, I have a couple of options: I could write it the way it happened and explain everything as I go along. That would be really choppy and disjointed. Or, I could invent some dialog for the stuff that was unspoken - but that would feel unnatural.

I'm choosing a middle ground. I took a tip from the movie "Finding Forester" and just wrote the first draft straight from the heart. Most of it was what I was feeling and what was going on in our minds. Some of it was dialog but not necessarily what we actually said. I didn't worry about that. The funny thing is that the first draft read as if we were communicating telepathically for part of it.

Someone once said that a good marriage is like conjoined twins, joined at the mind. That's the real essence of our relationship. It feels like magic but that's the way it is. We react to what we know the other is thinking, sometimes without really knowing how we know. A lot of it is shared experience and some of it is non-verbal stuff that we aren't conscious of. Maybe some of it really is telepathy. Probably not, but it sounds romantic.

When I was done with the first draft, I went back through and added some words to make sense of it all - since you aren't part of our collective mind. Most of those added words are the "whispers" (you'll understand in a moment).

I hope it works. Please let me know.

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Wednesday Evening ... continued...

There was a feeling of impending dread as I listened to him coming up the stairs. I almost wanted to sit down, but then I also wanted to be on my feet to hug him when he walked into the room. The door opened - my breath caught as he walked in. He closed the door, reminding me somewhere in the back of my brain that I wasn't cold; despite the very cool A/C.

He's a little taller than I am, even when I'm wearing heels. He had on his black silk boxers and matching black silk kimono robe. (That's something I worked on before we were even married: getting him to wear matching clothes). Oh, and he wasn't wearing anything else. The robe was partially open so his hairy chest was exposed. I went to him like a magnet and buried myself in that big hairy chest, purring and moaning as he wrapped his arms around me.

"Hmmm you smell nice... and you feel nice." He said it quietly in my ear but since I was so close, it felt like thunder. He ran his hand up and down my back, enjoying the satin and pressing me into him as he gave me a back rub.

There was a little chuckle as his hand crossed my bra. "Hmmm... girl stuff."

It's funny how he can be so childish and so... so much of a hunk at the same time. I slipped my arms inside his robe so I could wrap them around his bare skin. He groaned, so I slid my hand down his back and just inside the waistband.

Immediately, he took my arms away and put his hands at my sides. He held me out a little and I looked up at him. His face was a little annoyed - playfully annoyed. "That will be quite enough of that, young lady." I stepped back and looked down at my feet, trying to look contrite but failing miserably. I giggled. I felt giddy again. This was good.

"I love you sweetie," I whispered, as I looked back up at him. To Hell with contrition - I wanted him to touch me. I swallowed hard and just looked up at him, anticipating. His face softened. He wanted this as much as I did and was having as much trouble trying to act serious. I didn't care one bit about being serious.

"Now... you were not a good girl this morning, were you?"

I laughed, "Of course not, silly, you knew I was going to do it as soon as you told me not to." We both smiled, looking at each other. He pointed to the floor in front of the futon. I walked over and stood there.

"Back up", he said. I did. He sat down. I took that to mean I was going over his lap, so I moved to his side.

He stopped me, whispering, "Nope, lose the bra."

I went back to standing in front of him; now I was embarrassed. He sat back and relaxed, ready to enjoy the show, so I gave him one. I moved in close and shrugged the robe off of my shoulders (it was already open). He seemed to like that. Then I started to unbutton my top, staring at his eyes the whole time.

His eyes, of course, were on my hands and what they were uncovering. When I finished unbuttoning, I opened the blouse and leaned over him, letting it gape open. The bra is smooth stretchy satin and shows a fair amount of cleavage.

I leaned in a little more to give him a nice close view (and a good whiff of perfume). Then, I decided to go further. I nudged his legs together and straddled him, putting my hands on the cushion above his head. This was going to be a lap dance, with the exception that he was allowed to use his hands.

He opened the blouse a little wider and put his hands on my sides. It felt good and I leaned in to kiss him. As I did, he moved his hands up to cup my breasts and slide his hands on the bra. I couldn't feel it as much as I wanted to, but I knew he was enjoying it. Our lips locked and our tongues started wrestling (toothpaste... he had brushed his teeth, that reminded me of where this all began).

He moved his hands back and started to lift the blouse off of me. I lifted my arms and tried to make it easier, but it didn't work. I had to break the kiss and help him slide it off of my arms. I almost fell off of him onto the floor (yes, married couples get awkward sometimes). Anyway, that left me naked from the waist up, except for the bra.

He took hold of my upper hips to steady me and I reached back to unhook it. (This is something I used to practice in front of a mirror when I was growing up. I love the sexiness of it and what it does to a man who's watching).

Once the bra was unhooked, I brought my hands forward and slowly slid the straps off of my shoulders. I watched his face; he watched the cleavage. I decided to just let it drop into his lap. Well, that didn't work; I had to tug a little on the straps to get it out from underneath my breasts. At that point, I was freezing and my nipples were sticking out. He reached out to touch them. I rose up on my knees and leaned into him, pressing his warm face right in the middle.

I felt his hands move to my back and down my sides and to the sides of my breasts. Then he put his hands on my bottom. I wrapped my arms around his head and pulled him in.

After a bit, he pushed me back and breathed a couple of times (yes, I can smother him in there if I want to). He nibbled each nipple briefly and then slid forward to push me off of the futon, back onto my feet. It was too soon for me, I wanted to keep going... but he was getting overheated. When he stood up, his erection was sticking out of the fly of his boxers. I reached out to stroke it but he stopped me and made me put my top back on. I did as he watched but now he was impatient. He didn't even let me button it, instead turning me back around to face the futon, with him standing to my left.

That meant that my spanking was about to start, and that I would be leaning over the futon. He whispered, "I had planned on putting you over my lap, but I don't think I could handle it right now." I looked over at his boxers and confirmed that he truly was in no condition to have me over his lap (giggle).

Then I noticed something behind him, to his left, on the opposite end table (the one farthest from the door, to the left of the futon). I was instantly frightened. I looked at him aghast. "No... you're not going to use

that

are you?"

He smirked, knowing he had the upper hand (OK, knowing that he had

even more

of an upper hand). "Well that depends on your behavior." He picked up the paddle from the futon. Somehow he had laid it beside where he had been sitting. He tapped his hand with it, making a smacking noise. "If you behave, I'll only use this... otherwise..." He looked over his shoulder at the other thing.

"No, honey, I can't." I panicked, I turned toward him and put my hands on his arms, resisting. He put his hand on my back and gently, but forcefully, turned me back toward the futon, leaning me forward to put my hands on the wall above it. I backed up and turned toward him again. He was still on my left side. "No! I can't write about that! There's too much... stuff... involved." I could feel the tears welling up. "PLEASE DON'T!" I cried.

He set the paddle down on the futon in front of me and put his arms around me, turning me away from him. He was so strong but so gentle. He kissed the back of my neck and nibbled my ear lobe as his hands crisscrossed in front of me and moved inside the blouse to my breasts. He whispered, calming me down. "It's OK, sweetie," his words were barely louder than breathing. "I won't use it on you as long as you cooperate and don't give me any more trouble."

I started breathing heavy, partly because his hands and body were turning me on and partly because I was scared. He wanted complete submission. The price for resistance was something I couldn't bare.

I'm sorry, but I can't even bring myself to tell you what the thing sitting on the end table was. It's another thing that he uses to spank me sometimes. It doesn't hurt any more than the paddle; in fact it's a little less painful, physically. But... it has a lot of emotional baggage. It brings back some serious memories that I just

do not

want to share with

anyone

. I tried to get my breathing under control and tried to calm down.

He was nibbling on my neck and saying soothing things in my ear like "it's all right, you can do it". I took a deep breath. He said, "If you relax and do exactly what I tell you, no arguments and no resistance, the [other thing] will stay right where it is." In the back of my mind, I understood. Somewhere along the line, he had to do something to make it uncomfortable and scary for me. I was getting used to the idea that I would be writing about the spanking, so that was losing a little of its edge.

His added surprise put the edge right back into it. I was scared. It was an irrational fear. In the end, even if he did use it on me, he wouldn't force me to write about it. Well, he would, but I would have an out. Anyway, I felt exposed.

I felt as if you were an invisible audience, munching popcorn while he was getting ready to paddle me. In addition to everything else, I had to be ultra-submissive. I usually complain, resist, put my hand behind me; all of the things you do when you get a hard spanking. This time, I had to cooperate, or the "audience" would find out what was sitting on the end table.

I took a deep breath and stood up to the futon. I put both hands on the wall above it and kept my knees straight.

Now for the part about the slippers: When I bend over the futon, the slippers elevate my hips and stretch my legs. It gives me just a little bit more of a "bottom in the air" feeling. We both like it. He likes the way it looks, I like the way it stretches me and I like the effect it has on him. He hadn't put the slippers in the bathroom because he was figuring on having me over his lap. I had assumed it would be like this but that he forgotten the slippers.

He nudged me, telling me to move my feet apart. The paddle was still on the futon, right below me on the seat. I was staring down at it. He stepped up to me and put his left arm under my chest, inside the wide-open blouse, cupping my right side and pressing his arm below my breasts. It gave me a little bit of support and it let him hold me close to him. He slipped his right hand under the shirttail and slid his hand down to on my thigh. It was the first step of the "invasion". I closed my eyes and started breathing heavy. My knees were weak, no longer from fear but from excitement.

He whispered, "I love how smooth this is." I felt his hand slide up, cupping my left thigh, until it reached the top, right where the panty line was. As he crossed that threshold, his fingertips stroked me between the legs. It was through two layers of satin but it was wonderful. I think I remember saying "Oh, God, Please!"

His hand moved up and down, cupping my curve while his fingers caressed the very center of my, um... well, you know.

I wanted his fingers to keep going, to Hell with everything else.

SMACK - "Ahhhhhh!" My bottom stung. I didn't even notice him pull his hand back. It caught me off guard - SMACK, "Owwww!" Three more. SMACK, SMACK, SMACK "Owwwwwwwww". I couldn't think, couldn't get my bearing. He switched from caressing to spanking so suddenly that I couldn't shift gears.

I started crying almost immediately. I couldn't get my "defense mechanisms" up to relax and take it. He had snuck in under my emotional radar and gotten to my fear right away. The spanks kept coming, just as hard, just as fast. They didn't let up for even a moment so I could catch my breath. I couldn't resist, couldn't even ask him to wait. I had to avoid that other thing. Thank God it was only his hand and thank God for the PJs and panties... at least for the moment.

I usually count the swats in my head, but this time I didn't have time. I cringed, cried out loud, sobbed, and I hurt. I think he was surprised that I cried right away. It usually takes time to build up to that. I was also getting excited.

His spanks were alternating back and forth, two on each side. On the left-side strokes, he was cupping just enough to put pressure between my legs; he didn't hurt me there but I felt the pulsing of his fingers probing me and getting me really turned on.

Then he stopped. I have no idea how long it was. There was no rest, however. I had to stay in position.

My PJ bottoms felt smooth going down to mid thigh - and immediately the swatting resumed. All of this spanking was with his hand.

As before, he started so quickly that I didn't have time to prepare myself. These were stinging on the now-bare tops of my thighs and slapping my bottom through the panties. I started crying again. Actually, I don't know if I ever stopped. He kept going at the same speed and same pattern and same force.

All through this, his other arm was under me, holding me and, now, caressing the side of my right breast as it dangled and swung in time with the spanks. He slid his hand over to cup it and ran his fingers over the nipple. I felt him very clearly groping me even though all the while he was still spanking relentlessly with his right hand. I also remember seeing the paddle on the seat as a reminder of things to come.

His head leaned down behind my ear and nuzzled in my hair. I could hear him breath deeply through his nose, taking in my scent. He nipped me a little to the left of my neck, I think with his teeth. It was all too much. I was getting the electric feeling in my inner thighs. He could sense it too.

He stopped spanking just long enough to slide the panties down and retrieve the paddle from underneath me. This time I was prepared and bit my lip as the first hard smack of the paddle landed on my bare bottom. Biting my lip didn't help.

I screamed.

My knees buckled but I forced them back. He kept going. These, I was able to count. They were much more painful but slower, probably one a second. And, there were only twelve of them. Each of them burned and made me scream in pain.

When he stopped. I was able to catch my breath. He stood up, releasing my chest. He pulled the PJ bottoms and panties all the way off and told me to kneel into the futon. I did. I put my knees all the way into the cushion and held onto the top of the back of the frame. He removed the slippers. It tickled a little. I could feel the cool air on the back of my legs. He knelt beside me and put his hand back underneath. The closeness was intoxicating. Then I felt his fingers gently stroking the underside of my breasts again.

This position is much more comfortable. I don't have my legs stretched and don't have to hold myself up as much. I closed my eyes and waited for the spanking to resume. Instead, I felt the soft furry side of the paddle on my lower thigh. It was climbing up my leg toward the center.

On the way, it accentuated the burning sensation in my bottom and thighs. The stinging feeling adds more energy to it all. When the furry paddle reached the top, I could feel it all over my whole pubic area. With my knees tucked and my panties all the way off, my body was bare, and that whole section was completely exposed. The fur fluffed together with my fur and almost took me over the edge. My knees were even weaker. I started to slip downward and couldn't quite pull myself up.

I felt the paddle move away and heard it thud on the floor. I breathed a sigh of relief.

No more spanking.

His hand replaced the paddle and held me back up. The pressure was nice. Then, almost immediately, his fingers pried my lips apart and opened me up. The instant he touched me there, I felt the climax begin. It started much faster than I'd expected.

"More" I whispered and he did more. His hand went right to the source and drove me over the edge. His thumb (it had to have been his thumb) went inside and massaged from the other side.

I lost it.

I screamed, moaned, said all sorts of things - mostly incoherent - and I stopped worrying about holding myself up. His hand (behind me) and his arm (under me) supported me.

It quickly became more intense than I could handle. I tried to pull forward but he "had hold" of me between the legs and kept with me. He pushed my building orgasm up and over the top. I came, I held it and then I relaxed.

He didn't stop; he pushed me to another one and a third... I said, "OK, OK, OK... stop, Ooooohhhhhhh" and that was number four, "Nooooo, noooo, nooooooooooooo," and that was five. There was no sense of time. I think it took a lot longer than this, but who knows?

"Wait wait wait wait wait, Araraagggghhhh", that was six. All the while he was doing this, he was also squeezing (make that groping) my breasts and hugging me to his body. He also had his head up by my ear and I could feel his breath on my neck. On top of that, he giggled a few times as I came. He loves torturing me.

After the sixth one - I think - his fingers slowed down and stopped. They held still, in the same place, right on the center. [By "the center" I mean right on the spot where it would make me go nuts if he moved. I think it's the underside of the clit. I don't really know. It doesn't feel like that when I do it].

I breathed deeply for a few breaths.

Just before I was ready, he flicked his fingers for an instant and sent me over the edge again. Then he kept the pressure up but didn't move. I rode the wave of number... seven... I think, but who's counting [I found out later that he was, damn him]. My legs tightened and I leaned back into his hand. I came again from that and took a couple of breaths... Again, just before I was ready, he flicked his fingers and thumb again, just for an instant of motion, then stopped. I went right over the edge again.