Today we have a Fantasy Friday that was originally posted in 2008. I especially like this one. It’s one of those that as I read it for the first time my first thought was “Wow, I think I wrote this one – oh wait, that can’t be right.” But it is really good and for many of us it will really be one we can identify with. Please enjoy …
I have never been the type to cry easily. In fact, I hardly cry at all. The last time I cried was at a funeral for a co-worker who died much too young. Even my stubborn heart understands the finality of death. I don’t mean to say that I’m an unfeeling person, but my eyes just won’t cooperate when my body and soul need to cry. Some may think that I’m hiding my true feelings behind a tightly controlled facade, but his theory depends on the belief that that I am capable of crying. Am I, making a monumental effort to control the raging volcano of tears beneath the surface? I assure you this is not the case. The release of tension that comes with a good cry would be most welcome. And yet, my eyes betray my heart and remain woefully dry, under even the tensest of circumstances.
You may be wondering, why this obsession with crying? The answer is; stress. Stress should be a four letter word. It certainly seems to bring a number of four letter words to my mind when I am dealing with it. Some of the more popular relaxation methods I employ are: running away, exercise, overeating, drinking, leisure activities, wild sex and yes, crying. So, there I was, in one of the most stressful periods I have faced in years and all I could do was sit around and look sad. There were no tears for me, even when I mentally studied my life and relived great disappointments. My lip trembled and I felt a slight increase in the natural moisture in my eye. I tried to stay with it and ride the wave of emotion until the floodgates opened and…… nothing. Once again, I saw the forlorn look on my face in the mirror but nothing that suggests I had been on the verge of tears. I sighed loudly and added another memory to my list of woes, “I cannot cry.” Complaint number two hundred and fifty-six.
Enter my wonderful husband Gabriel. He knows me and the many layers I have created to protect myself. He also knows when I am on the edge of a cliff and need a little help to drag me back to solid ground. Gabe decided that a stress-relief spanking was in order. To the uninitiated, a stress-relief spanking is designed to help the receiver release tension while bonding her more closely with the person administering the spanking. Though this is undoubtedly an unconventional way to cope with stress; it works for us.
Gabe has been spanking me since the beginning of our relationship. Whenever I break an agreed-upon rule, I am punished by corporal means. If we need to reconnect emotionally, he often spanks me to break the ice. Of course, an erotic spanking during lovemaking can’t be beat. Was that horrible Pun? I do apologize. I sometimes think my most productive time is spent bent over with my panties at my knees for a fanny roasting.
“Robin!” Gabe appeared in the living room to see me sitting on the couch and staring out the window in a cloud of self-pity. “I think it’s time you stopped sulking and started doing something useful with your time, young lady,” Gabe admonished.
I looked at him insolently and deliberately turned my face away from him to stare out the window. Briefly, I considered the wisdom of my actions but then the moment passed and I continued nursing my bad mood.
Taking my hand gently but firmly, Gabe led me into our bedroom for a little talk. He began his lecture before we even got to the door, “I know you have had a lot on your plate lately, and you have been working very hard. But this miserable mood has gone on for too long.” Leading me to the bed, he sat down and pulled me between his legs facing him.
“It’s time to help you release some of the tension you have been holding in.” And with that, he loosened my trousers and let them drop to the floor. He guided me over his lap and adjusted my body until my bottom was at just the right angle. Without another word, Gabe laid a mighty swat across my cheeks. It was clear that this was not going to be an easy spanking. His hand came down hard, echoing throughout the room. I could feel a handprint shaped sting searing into my delicate backside. Before I adjusted to the pain, he began spanking in earnest. One slap after another branded my bottom. He started in the middle of each cheek and then moved side to side and up and down until my entire bottom was glowing red. I don’t know how many times his hand came down before he paused to rub.
“Shhhh,” he soothed. My breath was in rags and I was squirming to position myself safely away from his punishing hand. Gabe rubbed my back and said, “I don’t think you’re done yet. You’re still very tense.”
Who wouldn’t be tense when your butt us being blistered?, I thought. But I trusted Gabe to take care of me. He knew me well and he also knew I needed more. He reached under bed and picked something up. Apparently this little talk had been planned in advance. Gabe had put something especially for me within easy reach before he took me to our room. It didn’t take long to discover what it was.
Smack. I felt the paddle come down hard across both cheeks. Each strike with the paddle felt like a hot skillet on my rear end. The paddle came down again and again. I wiggled and howled, and despite my efforts to the contrary, my feet came off of the ground. “Put your feet on the ground or I will get my belt,” Gabe said sternly.
“Yes sir,” I said through gritted teeth. As my toes touched the ground, he raised the paddle and laid into me again. “Owww, oh, owwww,” I whined. Despite my distress, the spanking continued. I felt on the verge of tears. My entire bottom was on fire and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. “Oww, Gabe, owww,” I cried.
One last hard smack and he laid down the paddle. I went limp across his lap sniffling and gasping. “Owww,” I whined again. “My bottom is on fire,” I sniffled some more.
Gabe rubbed my back and waited for me to calm down. He helped me up and then he stood and scooped me into his arms. Setting me on the bed on my stomach he pulled the sheet over me and lay next to me. “That’s my girl, let it all out.” He stroked my hair and my face. “Any tears darling?”
I turned my head toward him, gazed into his eyes, put my hand on his face gently and said, “Nope.” I grinned “But I feel a lot better!”
Smack! Gabes’s hand cracked down on my backside as he laughed. “My pleasure, next time it won’t be so easy.”
Who needs tears anyway?
This story was written by my friend Jess. Jess hasn't been around lately but I would love to have her back. She is a fantastic writer as you can tell. I really appreciate her sharing this story with us. As always I'm hoping that some of you are out there writing the story that's been in your head for a while. Please send any you are willing to share to firstname.lastname@example.org