Saturday nights are set aside for maintenance spankings. These spankings are meant to not only "re-define" our roles, but also to keep me leveled. If I go too long without a spanking, I start to get out of balance. Saturday nights are to make sure that even when I'm being good, I don't go too long without having my need fulfilled.
J worked all day yesterday, capitalizing on all the snow we've been having and shoveling off a roof. He was just getting ready to head home when I called him to let him know that we had water coming in from the ceiling, so when he finally did get home, he had to get up on our roof again and chisel the ice away.
I slept while he was on the roof. I've been absolutely wiped out lately. I guess that comes with the territory of being 26 weeks pregnant, although I thought you weren't supposed to be this tired til the third trimester. I cant imagine what I'm going to feel like in a month!
When J finished our roof, he softly woke me up and asked if he could take me to dinner. I happily agreed, especially because I didn't feel like cooking ;)
We had a lovely dinner together, and I was happy to be able to spend some time alone with him. We talked about our days, and decided to pick the colors for the nursery when we got home. When we got home, we picked the colors, and watched Toy Story on tv before going to bed . He beat me to the bedroom as I had to use the bathroom before retiring. He was sitting on the bed, and had my pillow already in the middle of it. Beside him, I saw the hairbrush. My heart started beating fast. We hadn't used the hairbrush in quite a long time, and I hadn't missed it.
"Can I keep my pajama pants on?" I asked.
"For a minute," he nodded.
I climbed up onto the pillow and adjusted myself. I felt him pat my butt two or three times with the brush, then he started tugging my pants down.
"Seriously? That was all?" I sighed, standing up so I could take my pants off. Re-settling over the pillow, I braced myself.
He used the brush generously, definitely not taking it easy on me. After a minute or two of well placed swats, he announced he'd be giving me 75 on each cheek. They came hard and at a medium pace. By the end of the set I was experiencing dry sobs, the step before tears for me. Breathing hard, my butt stinging, I lay still over the pillow, waiting for him to let me up. Instead, he told me after this break I'd be getting another 50 on each. I was filled with horror, but didn't argue. I whimpered and just lay waiting. "Don't put your hands back here again." he ordered. The next set rained down on my warm, stinging skin. My feet drummed on the bed and I fought with all my might to keep my hands in front of me. I cried out, and bit my pillow as tears broke free and rolled down my cheeks. When he finally finished the 50, he got up and went to the drawer. I filled with dread. Usually, when he's finished, he'll set whatever implement he's got in his hand next to the bed and hold me. Going to the drawer meant he probably wasn't done. I watched him put the brush away, and take the five fingered strap out. I started crying harder, the thought of having to take more on my burning butt making me feel weak. He sat beside me again, rubbing me gently. "I'm going to give you a break," he whispered. "Then you're going to get 60 on each with the strap and we'll be done. Okay?" I didn't answer, just cried into my pillow. His hand felt good on my scorched flesh, rubbing and squeezing a little. I didn't want him to take his hand away, ever. But, after only a few short minutes, he did. Without a word, he started with the first 60 on my right side. It almost felt good, the leather on my hot skin. It stung but not like the wood did. Then after the first 30, it hurt again. Bad. I just lay there, resigned to my fate, sobbing. The last 60 hurt even worse than the right set, but I still didn't squirm. Just cried. When J finished, he pulled me into his arms and kissed my head, asking me if I was okay. I haven't cried that much from a spanking in a long time. I'm really not sure why I did last night. All I know is once it was over and I was in his arms, I felt good. I felt connected to him, loved and safe. I assured him I was fine, even if I was more sensitive than usual.
Well, it's Superbowl Sunday, and I've got to admit, it's not nearly as exciting when the Patriots aren't in it. I really could care less about the game, but J's mother and father are coming over tonight to watch it with us, and have dinner together. Meaning I should probably get off my computer and clean up a little bit before I have to start cooking. Happy Sunday! :)
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