I curl my toes up, pulling them from the cold floor beneath me, my knees ache pressed against the hardness of the wood. Tiny goosebumps raise over my arms. I want badly to whisk the hair from my face as I stare down at the floor, but don't want to risk you seeing me fidget. I'm still deciding what to do when I hear the door creak open. I hear a faint rustling noise and wonder if you are undressing. Suddenly there's a hot breath on my ear and I hear your familiar voice
"Hello my pet".
My body responds immediately to you. I want badly to turn around and throw my arms around you but I hold still. I inhale sharply as a cold wetness drips down my exposed back, leaking down into the crease of my exposed bottom.
"Don't move," you hiss, the tone less playful than I imagined it would be.
After eight years of marriage I feel like I'm meeting you again for the first time. We've been through more together than I ever imagined emotionally, and sexually I've never felt dissatisfied only...curious. When you asked me that night if there was anything new I'd like to try I never imagined I'd wind up here.
I hear you place a cup down on the nightstand, the sound of ice ringing against the glass, my eyes still focused on the gap between my knees. Walking in front of me you tug at my loose braid, pulling my head back allowing me to look up at you. You pull the wisp of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. I scold myself for not having moved it.
"Wider!" you demand kicking at my knee. I spread my knees wider exposing my smoothly shaved mound for your inspection.
"Beautiful,'' you respond. I breath a sigh of relief. I know you are still him. Still the man I married 8 years ago.
"Move to the bed," you order.
I move to stand but your foot pushes me firmly back toward the floor and I catch myself on my hands. I'm confused for a moment, but soon it dawns on me what you are demanding. I begin to inch forward, embarrassed to be crawling this way at your feet. I stop at the edge of the bed.
"Up, then on your knees and elbows." you demand. Obediently I slink onto the bed my feet hanging slightly over the edge, poised on my forearms, my bottom stuck into the air, you standing behind me.
You lean over me and whisper into my ear, "This is going to hurt, but if you're good I'll let you cum." My pussy pulses at your words.
"Yes Sir." I breathe.
You nip at my ear. Trailing your nails gently along my bottom you reach for something from the night-table, holding it up to show me. I don't recognize it and the only word that comes to my racing mind is paddle. It's long like a ruler with a handle, and covered in a dark brown leather.
"You will count," you tell me.
I feel angered, I want to tell you that it's cliche to make me count, that it's not something people do in real life, but I resign myself to just getting through this. I decide to save criticism for a time when you aren't poised to spank my bare ass.
The first blow hits my right cheek sharply.
"Ahh!" I yelp, surprised by the sting. You've spanked me before, playfully... never this hard. I wasn't expecting this.
"One..." I stammer remembering myself.