I have been a wife and mother for over twenty years. Now I am becoming my husband's lover, too.
We owe it all to my fellow bloggers who gave me the courage to come out to my husband as a spanko.
I do feel like this is a New Beginning for us.

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Friday, May 15, 2009

Fantasy Friday - Detective Death Tattoo

So glad to see Friday roll around again. Not too many more and school will be out for the summer! Now that is something to look forward to!! Until then we have a fantastic Fantasy Friday story this week. Kaylynn is writing again! She is an unbelievable writer and why she isn't doing this professionally I'll never know. But I am just so happy that she is willing to write for us. To read more of her stories you need to click to this post and go to the bottom to find links to more of her stories.

Now please enjoy...

Detective Death Tattoo

Sitting in the tattoo parlor she didn’t have the look about her of a grieving widow. In fact in seemed irreverent to her that she would be here after going through the emotions of selecting the urn and planning the service. It was easy. Everything she picked out was the extremely tasteful, but too elegant. In fact, it was the best day of her life to date the end of the beginning. Everything was coming to an end. The long hours of worrying that he would never come home; the nights in bars rehashing the cases with his buddies; and the toll it took of his outlook on humanity were all things she would never miss again. Being a detective had finally ended for both of them. Even though she wasn’t doing his job, she took on the stress too. In some ways she felt stress more than he; as she felt control over none of it.

They always made a joke in his department that when you needed to testify for racketeering you might as well fake your death before it was taken from you. John’s time was here and now. The funeral was her chance to protect him and to say goodbye to friends…. Forever. In defense of their ludicrous situation, they agreed on this years ago, when they were first married.

When they first met, he had been working for almost a decade to take down a bastard whose poisonous unfeeling tentacles stretched far. As the years rolled on it was getting obvious what might happen and so she agreed. It seemed simpler then than it did now. Living the actual moment is light years from guessing its impact. She found herself confused and released. Confused for lying to friends and having to start over in a tiny town and released, because of the eminent danger.

John was a bright guy who worked his way up enjoying his longest stint in undercover. Marissa hated that with a passion. He was always putting up with bullshit from everyone and on all sides. It was during that crazy part of his career that he made it clear to her, he would put up with none of it from her. She really didn’t see life from his perspective. She thought of he was a freakin’ drill sergeant in many ways. It was the antithesis of her mental state. She had been raised by very loving albeit indulgent grandparents, an only child. She wasn’t used to his lower middle class upbringing where you had to fend for yourself. She had had maids – his mother had been one. Her heart wasn’t void or made of Gucci leather. But she did like her way of conducting her life.

When she met John they had first been attracted physically. He was hooked before he saw it coming. He was used to making the calls and firing the shots. Marissa splayed him wide open. He was in too deep after several all night talks and never could back out. It was like that last scene of reflection in the movie “Kiss of the Spiderwoman” when he’s caught battling with himself against the purposeful life of an average looking woman and the beauty of one who added just that to his life. It was during his hours closest to death that he reflected on the beautiful woman. And so it was with Marissa. She was everything that drove him crazy. And when he came to his senses – as much was possible -he vowed to break of her ‘trustee brat mentality’. She was less than she could be because of it.

He did make sure she understood what it meant to be self sufficient. He knew her life could change if one of those dirt bags ever delivered him bullet in the back. He wouldn’t let her be the disorganized floundering single female he had found her. It had started, of all things, with the freaking laundry. She sent everything out as if that were the only option. Admittedly it worked great for her. He almost coded when he found out the cost. Once they moved in together the trust fund remained inaccessible to her. He put the forms in his paperwork. When she asked where they were he joked, “Right next to where my belts are hanging!” Once they were married she wasn’t even allowed to speak of it, the trust fund that is. The belt reference had never made her ask again about the withdrawals.

It took him about a year to get her to live like the rest of the world. But it had to be done. No woman of his would be a prima donna. Untraining a princess was no easy task. But John was never discouraged by anything or anyone. It was then that the spankings started. He had threatened her jokingly many times. She looked at him with doe eyes the shade of green turquoise and he had to focus himself. He could understand why aging grandparents weren’t up for the task. He started her out with stinging slaps to her pert little rear when she would argue. A few times he whispered in her ear that if she didn’t watch her mouth she’d find herself torn between saying I’m sorry and OW! She loved to rag on him about how he had clamped down on her fun whenever they were with friends. She probably thought she could get a coalition together to overpower his rules. Not the case. John was immoveable.

One of the things that pissed him off the most was tattooed women. He associated it with crack whores, which was such garbage and made her furious. She had been planning to get a really cool tattoo of their intertwining initials on a backdrop of a wave. It represented to her the strength of who they had become together, a force of one, a part of nature. She talked about this often enough in front of their friends and coworkers that it seemed the perfect thing to do now. Now when everyone needed to believe he was gone; or at least those who wanted him dead the most. It was the ultimate Witness Protection Plan a faked death. What was another eyesore warehouse owned by the city and burned to the ground? It was extreme but lifesaving for John. At a minimum it would buy them some time to relocate.

There were a few things she could do to convince distant and casual observers that John was dead. The first one was to show up to the funeral with her favorite designer clothes and accessories. She knew he would make her donate or resell the items on ebay and donate the proceeds. She had learned her lesson once before when she thought blowing two grand on a purse was acceptable. They couldn’t speak decently to each other for two days. He made her sell it on the “buy it now” option so she wouldn’t be tortured by the bids. He slept with one eye open given his training! No she had to do something that would last.

Marissa having a tattoo would be discussed as being the best evidence that John was dead. Because everybody knew there was no way in hell she would do it if he were alive. He had made such a big deal over something so stupid that she could use this to protect him. She almost felt benevolent. It was the most obvious outward sign she could come up with, beside her training as a make up artist. She knew exactly how to give her face a stressed and worn out look. She would even buy some fake tears.

That was when it hit her. She would never get the chance to tattoo herself again. If she was going to do one, she might as well do two. She loved script. And she thought of the perfect phrase to redeem herself and the perfect place to do it (over time that is). Fessez-moi durement. She would do it in beautiful script very very light ink and across her sit spot. She rationalized that it was certainly a two for one deal and that she was welcoming one of their favorite sexual past times.

She was crazy but that was the life, the day and the circumstances she was in. She smiled embarrassed on too many levels. If she hadn’t gone down the back hallway to use the restroom before she started the first tattoo, she would have never done anything so preposterous. But the artwork lining the walls was mostly spanking scenes of various themes. She felt at home with her fools venture. Apparently she wasn’t the first to do this type of tattoo and was assuredly not the last. There were several ‘Your sures’ and chuckles about the lifetime of results. But she did the unthinkable anyway. She figured – he owed her for putting her through so much all these years.

Fortunately the hours standing in the receiving line were perfect for her very personal crime scene (her newly tattooed bottom). She accepted the heartfelt condolences from those who had no clue it was staged. She felt like shit doing it. Some suspected he was taking early retirement. Those who wanted him dead hoped he was dead. It would save them a job. Little did they know he was being deposed ad nauseum on tape at that very minute. John hated lawyers especially defense attorneys. He wanted to lose it when someone would get off on a technicality. Marissa believed that it was part of the reason he was so anal about stuff. If it procedures weren’t done cases fell apart. At that moment she felt she would come apart. She was exhausted. But the day was almost over. It was one day of calling hours and the evening was a quick service. This was such a rush job she didn’t think it would come off as real. At this point she just wanted out of her black dress and into her travel clothes. She was on her way out and couldn’t look back.


Being back with John felt so good. Life was about them. No stuff. No friends. No careers. It was just the two of them. She felt such a connection. They hugged like they had never ever hugged. She thought he would squeeze her in two. And then his fingers caressed her shoulder on the moisturized new tattoo. He pulled his fingers back and in front of her lips rubbed them back and forth together as if ascertaining the viscosity for research. All the while he kept his eyes locked into her as if they were welded. His blues eyes were like javelins streaking across the sky falling through the atmosphere. She made the instinctual mistake of trying to pull back. A indistinguishable growl emanated from his throat.

With the restraint of one bringing a guilty man on death row a stay of execution from the governor John managed to say, “Too much has happened the past four days”. And he huged her again with such force she felt all had been too easily forgiven. They made love that night like two teenagers panting in the dark. He held her against the wall with her hands fumbling for a grip against the corners of a picture frame. She was forever and only his. The fullness and force of him shocked her. He demanded her eyes stayed open and he stared at her as if he owned her soul.

She began to understand what the women felt like in the art work she had seen in the tattoo parlor. All the spanking scenes showed penitent woman. And it was at that moment that she realized two things. First, the tattoo on her shoulder would be forgiven. Her penance was his dominating lovemaking style against the door. And second, her ass being sight unseen was a godsend. After her realizations the questions began to swirl around her like miniature tornadoes causing her to lose any and all rational thought. Why had she done something so childish? Didn’t he have enough problems and stress over everything without her pulling this bullshit? How could she have been so stupid? Wasn’t she done getting her own way? How quickly could she use her inheritance money to remove it before he saw it? What was going to happen if he did? Did she write ‘spank me hard’ because she was deserving of it? Did she create her own circular universe by having to be spanked hard because she wrote those very words? Her inability to think clearly was making her nauseated.

While the philosophy of it hit her hard, it would be nothing compared to the real moments that obviously lay ahead. For a whole week she had managed to make sure he didn’t see her behind. She showered at odd hours and slipped pajamas on during the night. It took major concentration. She realized she could have never been undercover. Not yet being discovered, she was beginning to doubt his abilities at being a detective. At least she thought as much. That is until the garage sale where he purchased a bunch of books. One of them turned her completely red when she saw the English French; French English dictionary; but there was a Spanish one too. She refused to panic; but it was called for.

“Marissa, I’ve wanted to travel for years. I thought we should start with learning the languages together. Obviously we have nothing but time. You up for it honey?”

“Travel?! Are you serious? You know I want to get back into that world. I had a blast during my summers at college” she sounded like a school girl, so elated.

“You’ve got a jump start on me darlin’ which means I might have to jump you!” And he lunged toward her over the little table. She was quick jerking her arm away from his reaching grasp. Taking a step backward she felt with her hands until she was moving steadily toward the door of their temporary rural home. The glass door knob popped opened easily. She made it obvious she intended to run. The gleam in her eyes was unmistakable.

“Honey you can’t run far enough fast enough! But I know you, you’ll try!” His smirk was the most charming she’d ever seen him. He was gorgeous without the stress of the streets on his face. She was thinking about where to hide in the barn, or where to climb tree to roof top. Or she could race him to the cellar door around the back of the house. She was planning her darting and dashing escape when she heard him say words that made her freeze physically and mentally.

“You wouldn’t do anything more to taunt me now would ya?” She had felt the mood to play right up until that point. Then her face betrayed her. She looked like the cat that ate the mouse. His words didn’t reveal his thoughts. They both felt the changes in the room. Marissa went busting forward into unknown territory and instead of confessing her stupidity and hoping for leniency she kept up the charade of innocence. John moved with it feeling some disappointment. At this point it was a principle issue. He’d given her a chance, several in fact to come clean with him. He couldn’t believe she actually thought to hide herself from him. He who knew her habits as easily as he breathed. He was a detective. Had she remembered nothing? Shaking his head at her he sighed much like a man with the words, “She’ll never learn” etched in his mind.

He gave her two more days. She was obviously in the ‘lie ‘til you die’ mode. He was finding himself setting his jaw with frustration and looking up at her slowly when she talked to him. His eyes looked up slowly in her direction without the excitement that had been there earlier in the week. She raced backward in her mind a dozen times a day. She had hid everything so well. And unbeknownst to her, ‘therein lie the problem’. After two glasses of wine one night she sat on his lap giggling like a young teen in love. Putting her head on his shoulder she stared at the back of the couch and thought she could tell him if she didn’t have to look in his eyes. She almost felt like she could brave the consequences.

“You know you’re long overdue for a spanking young lady?” his voice sounded safe, but his choice of words made her think he was reading her mind and she felt like a little jolt went through her.

“I don’t think I’ve done anything to deserve one.” She was determined to keep calm as she gripped the soaked wood of the ship pointed downward. She could never prepare herself for a lifetime of him seeing those words on her ass. She tried not to tail spin into beating herself up because she would lose it.

“Oh but I do sweetheart” his voice was smooth like warmed silk as it wrapped itself around one wrist, than the other. Symbolically the silk tightened around her wrists as they were hoisted over her head. She could feel herself spread to points of vulnerability they had not yet explored. Looking rather academic in her approach of this seemingly new perspective, she went to slide off his lap to get a more evenly matched view by looking directly across and into his eyes. He allowed her to attempt balanced input regarding her deserved or undeserved spanking. After all, it was literally her ass.

“You won’t gain power by leaving my lap sweet pea” his voice resonated wisdom and strength.

“Has it healed well?” He asked with true concern. “Because if I haven’t waited long enough I’m going to get impatient. And my patience with you is thin, very very … very thin. She foolishly put her hand to her shoulder as if he could not know of the other. He didn’t change his expression. She nodded in atonement finally accepting what was to come. She swallowed and blinked slowly as her throat tightened. She clamped down on her back teeth and breathed and unnatural rhythm.

She started to tremble. She’d never “trembled” in her life and it wasn’t a feeling she ever wanted to have again. From her toes to the top of her head she was a ball of nerves. His eyes were zeroed in on her like sites on a gun. She brought her knees up together, bit on her lower lip with extreme force and gripped her wine glass until it felt one with her. The first thing he did was forcefully pry the wine glass from her hands. The second thing he did was lean in to whisper in her ear words that immediately sprang tears from her eyes.

“You’ve never seen me mad at you before. What were you thinking?”

Regret was a word she’d toyed with a few times in her life. But nothing prepared her for this. Her head fell like lead to her chest. The tears rode down her flushed cheeks. She angrily wiped them away as if she could punish herself with her swift motions. She resisted the urge to rock back and forth on her soon to be examined philosophically and physically tattoo.

Words couldn’t encircle her head, only his silence. She felt like she could possibly be invisible if she didn’t move. It was a child’s thought but she, on a lark, put herself in that role. He let her sit there a good long torturous ten minutes staring at her. It felt to him the same. Had this moment been filled with another purpose he would have wanted to do so many things to her but now he must do the most personal of things between them. He would show her he was in control. Standards had not left him and for sure not “them” just because of the changes. If anything, it was going to get tighter in some realms because he now had the time for implementation.

Instructions began now, on his lap and in his bed. He would teach her not to struggle with him for power, not to play with his authority. He had a critical job and that was looking over his shoulder for the rest of their lives. He would keep her safe but she had to be obedient so he could instinctually know where her head was mentally and therefore safe physically.

And so it began.

To be continued Tomorrow, I promise!


  1. Anonymous2:05 AM

    PK, you can't leave a story like this, especially when I'm reading this right before I go to sleep.
    Kaylynn, this is a really great story so far. I want to read the rest of it.

  2. Anonymous4:17 AM

    Oh PK the pics are wooondderrfulll thank you so much.. and yes Diana, I too have to go to bed and will wait even though I've indulged myself with another reading -gulp - only to love the pics that PK so sweetly puts forth great effort to enhance. She's so good to me!! Thanks again PK you're so indulging... Sorry to comment but I have to admit I loved this story and wrote it so quick it almost didn't and yet seemed right... I hope all of us get what we crave this weekend ;)!!!

  3. Grrrr I hate cliff hangers, especially on great stories. Not fair!
    Excelent work Kaylynn, PK's right, you should write profesionally.
    Hugs Jay

    *waves to PK* sorry I been away so long. hugs to you, jay

  4. PK, what a fabulous story, KayLynn you are something else.
    Love and warm hugs,

  5. Diana,
    Stories like this do make it hard to sleep sometimes don't they?

    I love it when the author comments! And I'm really glad you like the pictures.

    I'm glad you got to read this FF. I hope you didn't mind waiting too long.

    Paul I think she's something too!