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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Saturday, February 29, 2020

Fantasy Friday - On Julie's Beach with a Paddle, part two

Check out the snippet at the Reading Room today too!

As promised, part two ...


John proceeded to painstakingly hop around to the driver’s side. I threw myself over the top of the gear box knowing I couldn’t even stand outside the car because, for the first time in my life I was afraid of John and he was totally justified. I had almost hurt us by not paying attention to polite local driving customs. I was speeding through the intersection full of myself while I berated an injured John in the process. The last thing that came out of my mouth was ‘so fuckin’ get over it’. I wanted to die. Driving his own car while his left knee was visibly swelling; he grimaced in unrelenting pain. I wanted to cry but didn’t dare.

John’s cell rang. It was Sharon and I could hear the kids in the car. They sounded so happy. That was light years from where John and I sat in our funeral procession drive home. That is what it felt like and coincidentally Sharon shouted through the phone as if our car were as noisy on the inside as hers,

“Where’s the funeral, we just passed you two headed north on the strip and you didn’t see us waving like mad out our windows. Davey proposed that you had kidnapped his mom for cash but that Dave refused pay the ransom, so you were both stuck! Just kidding Julie! If you can hear me, sorry honey! Davey is definitely crackin’ us up today!” She laughed so lightheartedly.

Oh God, if she had only known that John would find little financial value in me at this point in time. My heart felt like it was racing and had just stopped all at once, as I realized I had to face Dave and then Sharon. But most painful would be facing Dave. I felt like a prisoner, John the Jail guard, judge and jury. I was fucked. The sad thing was all I wanted to do was be alone somewhere to kick my own ass. I kept saying to myself ‘what was I thinking?’ but then my monster ego came loping into yelling “you weren’t stupid bitch”. And then as I looked at John holding the cell phone (I managed to get my downcast eyes up that high) I knew I’d pay big time. This was the day that John would be guiding my marriage into the future.

“Hey Shar? I want you to take the kids out for lunch and a movie, if you don’t mind. I have some serious shit to discuss with Dave about Julie. Nothing I haven’t said before, but this time she’s her own prosecutor. Its part of the reason we looked like death warmed over when you passed us.” A long fifteen seconds passed.

“No, I won’t go into it now. Just keep the kids occupied for the better part of the day. I think we will need to have John’s kids over for a campfire tonight. Hopefully at the end of the evening Julie will be settled into their new direction.” A long pause occurred.

“All right, I gotta go, love you babe. Ya, I’ll tell her, only it will be later, much later.” He hung up and his caste iron eyes felt too heavy, like my heart couldn’t support the weight of their glare. John pulled the car down the street the ocean glare was magnificent. There were surfers and bikinis and pick ups everywhere. Everybody was drinking something cold and happy to be on the beach and ith each other.

“Julie!” I jumped at my name when we pulled into the driveway of our beach house. Dave looked toward us with a big smile and motioned toward the cooler.

“Stay in the car!” John hissed out through his lips.

I had never seen him like this. He spoke through gritted teeth. How dramatic was that? I asked myself rhetorically, trying to find fault with his behavior. I stayed in the car staring at the pack of cigarettes I had just bought. I was already in so much trouble; I didn’t think it possible to make things worse by smoking in the Vantage. Besides if I smoked a cigarette maybe I could fight off that sickening feeling that I was five years old. I grabbed the pack and carefully unwrapped the cellophane.

John backed up a few steps stared me down and said “If you even think of lighting up in my car, I’ll beat your ass first. Understood?”

He waited until I shook my head in total fear and agreement. The day seemed to be moving through fucking molasses. A few minutes had passed. I looked down at the beach now where I could see Dave’s incredibly angry body language. John had one hand in his pocket as if two hands would over dramatize the situation. He used the other one in choppy angry slashes through the air. Dave just kept shakin’ his head. Every once in a while he’d look up at me in the car with a wild look I couldn’t make out from the distance I sat. But I knew I’d never seen that look from him before. I knew in my frightened heart that that wasn’t the only thing to be delivered to me that day.

I couldn’t even bare to think about what they were saying. I had suspected what John and Shar’s married life entailed regarding how they resolved issues. I felt like they were living in the 17th century and with my personality, I wanted no part of any of it. My prayers were that Dave would elevate himself above John’s sense of fuckin’ cowboy justice. I was pissed and scared. And I realized after nervously downing my energy drink that I really had to pee. I also knew I had to pee whenever I got very nervous. How was I supposed to sit in the car all morning? But I didn’t dare get out.

I put the cigarette in my mouth and moved the car into gangster lean position. I had to calm myself down. Fuck it I’d just take a nap, they’d been on the beach for five minutes. I figured the longer Dave took to shove aside John’s ideas, the better. I was lucky so far that Dave hadn’t ripped me out of the car and tried to spank me right there in the driveway in front of John and the surfers. I needed to shake off that possibility so I closed my eyes tight and focused on breathing.

Dave stood up after sitting on the cooler. He and John shook hands. Then John slapped him on the back. What could that possibly mean? I watched Dave walk forcefully and purposely toward the car. With each step Dave seemed to loom larger and I felt myself becoming tinier. I had never seen his expression before and panic set in. Would he break our engagement? Had I fucked things up irretrievably? I wasn’t prepared to pay that kind of price for my actions. I was hoping that he would see how remorseful I was. And maybe, just a little his face would soften as he approached me. My legs began to shake as he touched the door handle. I assumed his voice would sound angry, but it was gentle as he opened the passenger door for me.

“Don’t speak,” he said too calmly.

Now I started to shake all over. He didn’t need to say one word. He was one of those rare guys whose actions were other men’s words. And now it became too obvious to me what was coming next as John pulled up in the Advantage intercepting us before we got inside. John handed Dave a fucking paddle! I felt nauseous and wanted to bolt. I just kept looking down as Dave bid me to enter the beach house by opening the screen door. It was much cooler with the air conditioning and now I couldn’t hide my shaking. I could feel Dave boring holes in the back of my head but assumed he was also focusing on where he’d use John’s paddle. He took my left wrist and guided me upstairs. His grip made me feel guilty as hell. As he came up behind me on the stairs, he gently took my right wrist and then positioned both my wrists at the small of my back. I felt like I needed an orange jump suit based on my perceived control over my life the next few hours.

Once in the bedroom, He laid me over the bed. My shorts exposed way too much in this position. My fiancé appeared very natural while I was lost in my predicament. I didn’t know what to do with myself. In my stubborn mind I wasn’t resigned to submission. I had spent my whole life resisting the concept. Even though Dave was quietly in control of our relationship on a deep level, it usually didn’t come to the surface very often.

For some weird reason, I flashed forward to our upcoming wedding. I certainly had bridezilla potential and could see us tux, veil and paddle holding up the ceremony while Dave delivered a groom’s justice. Years after that I could picture Dave putting in a movie for our kids while he took their mommy upstairs so that she would be reminded that recording atm withdrawals in not optional when saving money is of the essence. As if Dave was inside my head sharing my visuals I heard him say,

“Julie I’ve known you your whole life and you make total sense of what I’m about to do.” I began to breathe fast, no make that pant and he hadn’t even touched me yet. I needed him to talk me through this, to help me understand how a grown woman could be face down on her vacation, a month before her wedding, awaiting what had to be a painful spanking. But I was realistic and knew I just wanted to delay what I was about to feel, as I watched him raise the paddle well above his head. He felt like a wall crashing on top of me.

Nothing could have prepared me for the incredible sting that resonated on my ass. I tried to escape from the bed based on shear instinct but Dave’s arm destroyed all hopes of my escape. Minimally I wanted my hands to protect me against the incoming blows. But I couldn’t move myself, not at all. Way to quickly the next ones came. The paddle was so fucking long both cheeks felt seared to my shorts. Fucking John, fucking Dave. I was furious now and began to try to move. I was going no where. I had no option. I had so somehow endure the incredible pain. I tried to talk my way out before the fifth strike came.

“Dave, please, I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again,” I ran it all together so fast and then wished I had more to say, thinking foolishly what I had to say would change his mind. I was so pissed and scared. Responding to my disobedience he landed a blow that made the others seem amateurish (and they weren’t)! I shrieked so forcefully the sound upset me. I was so physically jolted by that swat I vowed not to say another word. The cumulative effect was becoming very clear to me now.

“I told you Julie, NOT to speak!” He was too calm except for the word ‘not’. This was a first for me. I was always so competitive with Dave and others. I believed I would always come out on top. Humility was sorely lacking in my life. It was kind of like a light switch went on, or maybe it turned off; I’m not sure. I became less angry and more resigned to what I knew I had had coming to me for a very, very long time. As I began to cry I felt such a rush of relief. Everything was so slowed down and simple, despite the fact that my ass was a fireball. I had always been so manipulative with my behavior. And while I knew I’d think twice about it the next time after this lesson; more importantly I knew Dave would help me to be accountable to myself. The sense of knowing I’d no longer be allowed to grow in a wrong direction also made me cry. Then I began to sob and almost choke. After about twenty hard smacks with the paddle, Dave stopped, glanced peacefully at the paddle then said.

“This will be our first wedding present to each other.” We could feel the change in me. For the first time in my life I was finally submissive and stopped fighting against the paddle, against Dave, against my better judgment. I felt relieved and yet sad for all the years of acting so immaturely.

He let go of my wrists and set the paddle down on the bed at the same time. He turned me around and sat me down on his lap. You would’ve thought with the flow of his movements, we had done this a thousand times before. While I was amazed at this unrehearsed yet synchronized ballet, I was more amazed at how much it hurt to sit. I could feel his thighs; they were too hard beneath me. I felt like a fireplace radiating heat. My hair remained in front of my face. I wanted no eye contact. I felt so embarrassed that I had caused him to be this way with me. He pushed my hair away from cheeks and wiped the tears with his thumbs. He waited until my eyes met his. He waited a few seconds – it killed me. He leaned in to kiss me as if I’d never been kissed before. I was physically and emotionally exhausted. He seemed a bit tired based on the depth of his sigh. But as always it was challenging to know what he was thinking. But I knew he loved me enough to do what was right for me. As he began to kiss me more firmly I was surprised to find how much I wanted him.

We made love. Each time I moved a bit, I could feel the reminders of his welcomed power over me. And although it was different for us, John told me exactly what to do as we made love. (Usually I would be hopping all over the bed.) Then we napped. Later that night Dave insisted I “face the crowd” and of course I needed to apologize to John and Sharon. John put on Queen’s “Another one bites the dust.” I was demurely sitting next to Dave. Being quiet had never felt so good or safe. Taunting, John whispered in my ear,

“I played this for you!” Waiting maybe thirty seconds I leaned back into Dave’s shoulder listening to the waves roll back out to sea and watching the logs burn down. I said to Dave very quietly, “I want you to know I resisted calling John an asshole. Aren’t you proud of me?” He just chuckled and shook his head. While firmly patting my very sore behind, he said rhetorically, “Julie… how are we going to get you through this wedding?”


My thanks to Kaylynn. I hope she is well and happy and I hope she still writes. I'll post more of her work in the future. If you're willing to write for us send your story to elisspeaks@yahoo.com

Friday, February 28, 2020

Fantasy Friday - On Julie's Beach with a Paddle

This story came to Fantasy Friday about nine years ago. The author was Kaylynn and she wrote a lot for us back then. Like most Fantasy Friday writers we've lost touch over the years, but I still have her writings to share. This is a great story, and it's a long one. In fact it came in two parts. Part two will be up tomorrow. I hope you enjoy...


Dave and I had planned our marriage for two years. We had known each other for almost twenty. He married a friend of ours from high school. She wasn’t right for him and I knew that from the start. Sadly but not unexpectedly they amicably divorced. Dave and Jan had had three gorgeous kids and I love them more each day, wishing they had been my own. Never marrying, I couldn’t find that guy who knew how to deal with my high energy level.

I lived with one guy for five years but he was drama prone and we weren’t comfortable sharing the spot light. I like to look back now and think I was waiting for Dave. He was and is still my Clint Eastwood, Steven Siegel, that wise and stoic figure who lets me exuberantly dance through life; yet imposes loving limits. My ability to figure out when enough is enough occurs somewhere between observers feeling massive annoyance and crowds demanding my public flogging! It was never as evident as the month before our wedding while vacationing with our life long friends.

August 2004 was the month before Dave and I were to be married and I knew I had the world by the tail. I breathed in the overconfidence with my waking breaths and was most likely hell on wheels by the afternoon hours. It took me fourteen years to finally get this guy! I was surfing the biggest wave of my life and nothing was going to stop my sense of sophisticated momentum.

At age 34 it was my first marriage, Dave’s second and that put me even more in the proverbial spotlight in my eyes. I was determined to handle it all with a dignified cool, but with my personality; it was a challenge. Plans had been adjusted time and again to suite each other in just the right areas. While I had wanted a two ring circus, Dave guided me toward just the one. While Dave needed a brief ceremony, I got him to compromise so I could include a poetry reading, flower girl and three bridesmaids. Things actually seemed to be in place. Shockingly my organizational skills were competent, given my propensity toward distraction. I managed to keep our wedding in good quiet taste given Dave’s personality, but managed to infuse my childhood dreams.

It was mid August and we were meeting John and Sharon and their three kids for a wonderful fifteenth annual vacation at the beach. I have always been silly around John. He has this repertoire of comedic characters that make me hysterical with laughter. We are opposite sex versions of each other. Dave finds us entertaining separately and totally out of the box when we are together. Sharon is tolerant, sweet and quieter than Dave, which seems impossible.

“Our” three kids are all close in age so it’s one big kid party. We keep in touch with a yearly vacation at a secluded beach at the end of an island. The ocean was on one side; the marsh was on the other. All year long, all of us think about our week together. With the knowledge that we’d all be together for the wedding in only two months, we were giddy with anticipation. The vacation just before the wedding seemed to have Dave in a particularly sated mood. We could feel his sense of calm. His best friend and future wife were filling the air with jokes and this week I thought everything was funny. John and I are our craziest in front of Dave and Sharon, our favorite audience.

When we do happen to be alone we are very respectful of each other; there are no personal agendas of any kind, except for John trying to help me grasp the marriage style between him and Sharon. Sometimes John pisses me off during our private talks and I’ll carry my anger back with the four of us. Very occasionally Dave will call me off John if he thinks I’m being disrespectful regarding John’s traditional value system. I’ve watched Sharon’s reaction to my comments regarding their marriage style and she’s always so cool and collected, as if she’s got some special perspective that makes all of it all right. I’ve assumed that Sharon’s clearly, yet quietly, on my side. Maybe I’m her vicarious emotional vacation. I could never picture Sharon getting away with my outspoken perspectives. I’ve always felt happy that Dave’s cool with my behavior. In fact he seemed very confident with our roles.

John is a no nonsense kind of guy when it comes to his expectations of women, kids and work subordinates. Maybe that’s why he lovingly tolerates me with humor one week each year. He gets a vacation from being ‘in charge and large’ as I tease him. I challenge him on his everyday thinking and make him laugh at himself. I’ve seen John really mad only twice in my life and I often wondered how Sharon and the kids managed after the vacation was over.

I never knew what exactly John and Sharon had going regarding problem solving. I just observed that they didn’t have power struggle issues. Things seemed simple, too simple for my needs. John would enjoy my discomfort as he discussed with me his ‘master of his realm lifestyle’. I would uncomfortably side step my way through those conversations hoping to change the topic. It was foreign for me to think that I wasn’t half in charge and under my own authority regarding my future marriage. Dave always treated me more than fairly, given my highly competitive nature and we had an easy relationship compared to most. But I will readily admit that I was constantly overstepping his boundaries and had it not been for Dave’s stoicism, I’d have been fodder for my fiancé’s sense of discipline a long time ago.

It was the day before our departure. We were well into our beach routines. Dave fishing, me writing, John jogging, Sharon and the kids on some morning outing. Dave yelled up to me from the walkway to go get John from a run. Apparently he had ‘broken down’. Sharon was too far away with an overcrowded car. Dave was not leaving the beach and missing his fishing. So I was the low woman on the totem pole and not happy about being disturbed. After all, I felt I was performing and productive.

Dave seemed oblivious to my frustration ready to become anger. Except that he spoke slowly to say that I’d have to use John’s new car. Looking back I can now recall that his voice carried a nonspecific unheeded warning. John’s knee was feeling older than his ego I thought as I left my writings. I was pissed having had a real flow going on a new story idea. Dave kindly yelled up to me,

“The keys are hanging on the…”

“Ya, I know”! I barked down to him. ‘On the back of the door’ I rudely cut him off, threw down my notebook and stomped toward their beach house.

I had to admit that at any other time I would’ve been excited to drive John’s Austin Martin V8 Vantage Roadster, but today I had told myself would be dedicated to writing. Tomorrow was last minute pictures and of course the dreaded fucking packing. I hated when I’d be forced to be organized. Dave had always insisted I bundle the dirty clothes into colors so we could quickly throw loads of laundry in while unpacking beach items from the car. I was just satisfied that I didn’t leave dirty clothes under my bed at the beach house!

I smiled grimly as I pictured John pissed that I’d be driving his car. He must’ve known Dave wouldn’t leave the beach to indulge his old track injury. John probably dreaded the thought of me riding his second favorite ride! He had barely let Dave drive it. Knowing Sharon the way I did I figured she’d be too afraid to drive it anyway. You know, really drive it, the way an Austin wants to be - no - needs to be driven.

Now the thing about me is I believe I can recover from disappointments pretty easily. In other words, I’m into the moment, but not necessarily looking ahead to the next moment. If I were to be inconvenienced, it would be my job to compensate for my own losses. My only chance to have fun was now. Deceiving myself and Dave, I calmly backed it out of their driveway. Dave kept looking up the beach house trying to glance at what he had to know was coming. He was always telling me that someday I’d hang myself with my long and tangled rope. I would occasionally answer under my breath ‘fuck you!’ in a spankable tone. Dave would respond in wisdom filled tone,

“Oh Julie, don’t you know what you’re getting’ yourself into?”
I would respond with an unknowing look complete with slightly furrowed brows.

John’s knee pain must’ve have been exorbitant if he thought that I’d calmly leave my writing and beach to come get his sorry yet cute ass. He mistakenly believed I’d be respectful of his aging vulnerability. But I had to feel a bit sorry for him. At my mercy he sat awaiting my arrival. I drove carefully to his waiting spot, getting the feel of his car. I didn’t want to give him what he expected: me flying into the parking lot on two wheels. No, I had already decided that would come just a bit later.

He grimaced and carefully walked on his left leg toward the passenger side. My smile got so wide it was obviously bordering laughter. He pointed a naughty finger wave through the windshield at me as if to say, ‘you had best curb your delight in my pain young lady’. I held back Niagara Falls force words as I let him settle into the passenger seat. But I just couldn’t help myself.

“John,” I calmly and quietly stated, “if you want to put your balls in the glove box while I ride you home in the passenger seat, I promise, that when I do put the car up on two wheels in the curve; I’ll put it down easy for you!”

Oh I was so proud of that blindsiding, funny comment. Laughing hard I couldn’t even look over at his face; I knew it was too perfect a moment but I had to be careful as he was staring at the road – making quality assessments of my every movement, really trying hard to ignore the massive insult I’d just flung his way.

A few seconds later I heard in a quiet tone equally the hum of the engine, “You know,” contemplatively, “Dave really needs to beat your ass!”

“Ya, him and what army?” flew out of my mouth immediately.

Shaking his head he threatened, “At some point Julie, you’ll take responsibility for your actions and heed the consequences.”

“Geez John, give it a rest, will ya? Your pain has gripped your serious side. I’ll have you know that I dragged myself away from writing on the beach to come get your sorry ass. The only good part is I get to drive your Vantage. Can you save your caveman crap for this afternoon when I’ve been able to down at least two margaritas?” I tried to retrieve the delivery with a bit of a dry laugh, but my message was clear.

“Speaking of consequences lets stop at the drug store and I’ll run in and grab you a first aid ice bag. Sharon and the kids will be back in about an hour and you can get a jump start on reducing the swelling. You’ll want to appear less old around our teens with testosterone. Remember, they smell weakness!” He needed ice but wasn’t welcoming my sense of control.

I parked the car and ran inside. I quickly grabbed an ice bag, bottle of acetaminophen two energy drinks and a pack of cigarettes for me. Tossing the bag carefully on John’s lap, I carefully proceeded to back out. John was acting like a frickin’ owl twisting his head this way and that making sure I wasn’t going to hit a pole or pedestrian. I rolled my eyes and John caught my expression. “Look John, I’ve never even had a speeding ticket…. Lighten up! Get that aspirin down your throat already; you’re making your driver grumpy.”

He snorted, “Well the speeding ticket is long overdue, I’ve watched you drive. What does Dave say about your ‘need to speed’?”

“Why does my behavior always have to rest on someone else’s perspective? Do we talk about how Sharon feels about your incessant need to control the family?” Now it was John’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Sharon and I have an agreement”, he said tersely.

“Oh God, if you ever fill Dave in on this scheme, I swear I’ll key your car! Please tell me it’s more complex than the “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” ‘head of the household thing’. God John, give it up already, I’m not drinking margaritas yet remember! Is all this fatherly bullshit because you’re walking me down the aisle? Oh wait I get it. You feel like my dad because I’m driving your car. This is like teaching and trusting your girls how to drive. I am clear now. You want to keep the conversation focused on my behavior hoping I’ll drive your precious car with controlled dignity. Then and only then will you calm yourself into tolerating this painful ride home with me.” I rambled on barely taking a breath.

“Well here’s the deal John, you are the passenger, you are injured, you have to suck it up and be at my mercy, while I drive your pristine car – so fuckin’ get over it!” I belted out the last phrase with musical deliverance.

As a turned my head to enjoy his pained expression, then follow up with a drilling gaze into his dark eyes, I could see his expression change from fuming to fear. In the left lane I was speeding through a busy intersection I went through a pink light. Some asshole turned left in front of me. Inwardly I cringed at my blaming attitude toward the other driver, because many times I had used the same technique to make an impossible left turn where there was no arrow. As I jammed my foot on the brakes I veered the car to the left just barely avoiding hitting the turning car. Fortunately we stayed within the intersection mostly in the south bound lanes complete with smoking tires and newly blackened lines in the intersection.

I sat there shocked. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before. Looking into the other car I could see a young guy glaring at me. And while I knew he should not have turned into my oncoming car, I also knew he assumed I would stop as the light was almost red and I was speeding and not paying attention. I also quickly wanted to choke myself because my last lucid moments were so filled with my being an utter smartass and I felt ashamed. I could’ve injured John, the other driver. I went into a mental tailspin. And yet could only sit there feeling shock and disdain. Reacting John threw open up the door, stood up and hopped up on his right leg.

“You ok?!” he yelled with urgency.

“Ya” came back in an angry tortured sounding growl. “Your wife needs to understand that around here we don’t run red lights going 95 mph!” His southern drawl delivered the ‘control your fucking wife’ message loud and clear.

“Believe me when I tell you, this will get handled as soon as we get home.” John sounded so far removed from me I couldn’t stand it. I was all alone with my stupidity, dangerous lack of judgment and guilt.

To be continued...

I'll have part two up at midnight!

Wednesday, February 26, 2020

I hope I’m never arrested

I watch a lot of crime shows.  I like SVU and NCIS for fiction. Criminal Minds was too much for me, to gory and graphic. But I like the true crime solving shows – Dateline, Forensic Files, sometimes 20/20 and 48 Hours. Although in truth they are probably the reason I tend to panic if Mollie doesn’t answer texts within minutes, I’m working on it.

But I know one of the tool used in crime solving is the search of what the suspects has searched on his or her computer. Then I realize my searches might just be a little suspicious themselves. Because of the different stories I write and because of some dark books I sometimes contemplate writing, I’ve researched a wide variety of topics.

Some of the tamer one would include
·      Spanking 
·      Domestic discipline
·      Bondage
·      Anal discipline
·      Spanking implements
·      Alternative adult discipline
·      Best treatment for bruises

I’ve also searched

·      Whips
·      Floggers
·      Riding crops
·      Dogging bats
·      Paddles
·      Canes
·      Straps 
·      Nipple clamps
·      Ball gags
·      Cuffs 

And then I’ve touched on a few other things

·      How to get away with kidnapping
·      Penalties for kidnapping
·      What’s the charge for shooting into an occupied dwelling
·      Suicide prevention
·      Domestic abuse
·      Bigamy
·      Penalties for assisting a prison escape
·      Murder vs manslaughter

The list really goes on and on. So I’m trying to stay on the right side of the law. I’m not sure what they would make of this, but I do know I’d rather not have to explain it all. 

Do you have anything you’d have to explain away on your search history?

Friday, February 21, 2020

Fantasy Friday - The Helpful Husband

* I'd love it if you'd come by the Reading Room today. You'll get a good feel of what Cassie and Tom are like.

Glad you've come by for Fantasy Friday this week. I remember this story and I enjoyed it the first time I read it. It came from a lady by the name of K who disappeared very abruptly years ago. But her writing was great. I hope you enjoy...

The Helpful Husband

Kit looked around her home and sighed. Dirty dishes filled the sink. Piles of clean laundry covered the sofa. There was a pile of dirty laundry behind her bedroom door and another on the floor in the junk... umm, dining room. The dining room was lined with piles of boxes and stuff that she hadn't yet found a home for. Her new home had a spacious eat in kitchen, so her dining room wasn't being used, but still, it was an eyesore.

Her list of projects was overwhelming. Kit was full of great ideas and she was highly skilled at gathering supplies for her projects at great bargains. When Joey bought her the house, one of his first projects was creating her a studio. Kit was almost shocked to discover how quickly she filled all of the cabinets Joey built for her with her stash. Where had it all come from? They'd lived in a small apartment with three kids. She knew it had been crowded, but it just wasn't possible she had hoarded such an enormous amount of supplies for her hobbies.

So much to do and Kit sat with Joey's laptop, reading her favorite spanking blogs while the baby played with her blocks. Sure, she did a bit of housework here and there. Joey and the kids always had clean clothes to wear, even if they did have to sift through the piles on the sofa to find them. There were always clean dishes to use. The baby's toys got picked up occasionally. Okay, so the toys were usually strewn across the floor until Joey got tired of stepping on them and picked them up himself. Kit picked them up once in a while... maybe. Who was she kidding. She knew Joey and the kids deserved better.

Kit knew she could do better. She just needed a little motivation. Ah, but what would it take to motivate her? Several of her blogging friends were in domestic discipline relationships. Kit had first discovered spanking almost a year earlier. She was turned on... umm, intrigued immediately. When she shared her discovery with Joey, he hadn't been at all surprised. He'd always known she was a bit naughty. While some of her ideas inspired a bit more eyebrow raising than others, she always knew how much he loved her.

Kit had shared some of the articles on domestic discipline, along with other spanking information, with Joey and they'd discussed it. Neither of them really felt they were ready for that kind of shift in their own relationship. Joey enjoyed spanking Kit and she enjoyed being spanked, but it was always for their mutual pleasure. Even still, Kit got a little thrill out of pleasing Joey and doing things she knew he'd like. It didn't have to be all or nothing. If she'd learned anything from reading so many blogs, it was that there were as many types of spanking relationships as there were couples that enjoyed spanking. With that in mind, Kit sent off a quick email to Joey. She didn't know how soon he'd read it, or what he'd think of it, but off it went.

Feel like helping me with the housework? There's so much I want/need to do, it can be overwhelming and I just play with the kids instead or do other stuff. But I could get more done. Maybe you could email me in the mornings with one thing you'd appreciate done by the time you get home? If it doesn't help, or you don't want to, that's okay. It's just an idea.

Love you lots. 


Kit went about her day, doing a bit of laundry, but mostly amusing herself on the laptop while the kids played. She was pleasantly surprised to get an email from Joey only a few hours later. Sometimes he'd go days without checking his personal email. It was short and simple, but made her smile.

If you think it would help, I can try to do that. 

Love you baby,


Kit was so pleased. She always felt special when Joey emailed her from work. With his help, she'd finally be able to get the house in shape and finish some of her projects. If it worked out, maybe he'd even help her develop a routine so she wouldn't have to rely on him so much. By the time Joey arrived home from work, Kit had dinner ready and had cleared off one of the counters to make room for the new mixer he'd bought her for Christmas. She was already feeling more motivated just from the extra attention and knowing how pleased he'd be with her efforts. He hadn't even asked her to do anything yet.

The evening passed with relative normalcy. Kit enjoyed the stern looks she sensed from Joey as much as the hungry looks. Only once did their teenager tell them to stop being weird. Kit wasn't sure what prompted that comment, but she was pretty sure she was innocent. When the kids were finally tucked into bed, Kit wasn't as sleepy as she often was. Joey squeezed her lower cheeks while they hugged. Kit smiled at him and asked if he'd mind putting the clean sheets on the bed while she jumped in the shower. She cleaned up and shaved quickly, wondering what fun Joey had in mind for her. He had told her he'd caught up on reading her blog that morning, along with the last Fantasy Friday story she'd sent him a link for. He also seemed to enjoy the thought of giving her tasks to do and had been dropping hints and gestures about spanking.

Kit dried off and got into the freshly made bed while Joey undressed. She hadn't gotten a taste of him in a couple of days because she'd had a cold. The shower had left her refreshed and she wanted to take full advantage of it. She looked hungrily at Joey and told him, "come let me suck on you while I can still breathe." Yeah, that was romantic. Ah well, Joey understood what she meant and knelt on the bed in front of her. Kit loved the smooth, warm feel of him between her lips. She marveled at how he could feel so soft and hard at the same time.

Joey caressed her lovingly. He rested his warm hand on her bottom. "This is mine." Mmmm, yeah, Kit loved the sound of his voice claiming her as his. The feel of Joey's swats to her bottom encouraged her to suck him long and hard. "I'm happy you found a home for the mixer I bought you." The comment was unexpected, but his praise warmed her heart as much as his hand warmed her bottom. "You're my good girl, aren't you?"

"Mmmhmm," she murmured around his cock while his hands worked their magic on her bottom.

"You like being my good girl?"

"Mmmhmm." Ooh, those spanks felt good

"Did you get extra clean for me?" he asked as his hands kneaded her warm bottom. A thrill shot through her at the promise of naughtiness implied in his question. Without taking her lips off him, she confirmed that she had. All too soon he was telling her it was time for him to love on her. "Turn around and lie on your belly." Kit was happy to do as he asked, but not before stealing a kiss. His breath was warm on her neck as he nibbled on her ears. His hands were relaxing as he massaged her shoulders. His lips were hot and wonderful trailing across her shoulders, down her back, almost there but not quite, then down her legs. She giggled as he suckled her toes. Mmm, more kisses back up her legs, onto her bottom, and then, finally, her secret places. Joey licked and teased and made her squirm.

When she was dripping with desire for him, he sat beside her and spanked her good and hard. When he eased up a bit, Kit raised her bottom higher, silently asking for more. Joey was only too happy to give it to her. He paused to dig through their toy chest. Kit felt the cool drips of lotion between her cheeks and wiggled encouragingly. Joey swirled a finger in the lotion and slipped it inside. She felt the heat as his breath activated the lotion, while he teased her with his finger. He stopped much too soon for Kit's liking, but she knew what would come next and delighted in the anticipation.

Kit heard the slippery sounds of Joey coating the toy with lube. Then she felt it rubbing at the entrance to her bottom. She relaxed herself as Joey slid the toy in just a bit, then a bit more.

"Come on, baby, you can take it. Just a little more." A shiver shot through Kit at his words. He sounded so sexy and knew just how to push her buttons. With the toy firmly in place, Joey caressed Kit's bottom as he gave her a minute to feel its fullness. Then he lifted her favorite strap and tapped it against her bottom. She wiggled for him and whimpered softly. The first few strokes were gentle and brought a warm glow to her cheeks. Gradually, Joey added a bit more oomph to his swing. Kit was in heaven. She loved the deep caresses of the leather.

Kit felt the cool leather settle across her hips as Joey gave her a good licking of another variety. She lifter her hips a bit to give him better access, but Joey knew just what he was doing. He grabbed either end of the strap and held her down against his probing tongue. It wasn't long before he gave Kit her first orgasm of the night.

By the time they both lay content in each other's arms, Kit had a feeling enlisting Joey's help with the housework would be a huge success.

Whatever works! I hope you enjoyed. If you're willing to share a story with us please send it to elisspeaks@yahoo.com

Tuesday, February 18, 2020

I didn’t want to blog this

I woke up happy Monday morning. I’m nearly finished with the book and I had a great scene to write. I was curled up in bed, so comfortable when my heart began racing. What the heck? Why would my heart be racing?

I lay quietly hoping it would stop. It didn’t. I kept checking my pulse on my watch. It kept going up. This has happen every once in a while for a long time. Maybe once every two or three months for about thirty seconds or so. So it wasn’t high on my list of things to worry about. But this time it wasn’t stopping.

Then my jaw started hurting. This is something else that’s  been occurring occasionally for the last few months. I thought it was the beginnings of a tooth ache, but it did come and go. Then I got to thinking about jaw pain being a sign of heart trouble in women. I checked my pulse again and it was 175. 

Okay several possibilities – Wait until my Doctor office opens and call? This was happening at 6:00 am. Call Nick to come take me to the hospital and see if it really is anything? He’s was at work about forty minutes away. Call 911?  Since I’ve never done that, it seemed overly dramatic. 

So I went with a combination. I called 911 and Nick. The heart rate was in the 90’s. And paramedics came and did an EKG – everything seemed okay, but they suggested that I go to the hospital. I decided to wait on Nick and he took me. 

Everything was okay there. The EKG was good and the blood work was too.  But they wanted me to see my doctor and said she would  probably refer me to a cardiologist. So, excitement abounds – just not the kind I would like.

Friday, February 14, 2020

Fantasy Friday revival - Letter to my Husband

Happy Friday to you all. I've been doing only two things lately, writing and watching it rain. Next week we may think about building an ark. But meanwhile, if lousy weather has you stuck inside as I am I hope this story, from our very own Ronnie at Heart and Soul, will brighten your day. As you see, the original story came to me in 2009, but I can't think of a better Valentine's Day gift. Please enjoy...

Letter to my Husband

November 30, 2009

Dearest P,

I want you to spank me - send a note telling me how I should be at the office, in the meeting room, and in position by 4.00pm bent over the conference table ready, I mustn’t move. You won’t arrive at that time. Tell me what I must wear, that you've left clothes on the bed, the black luxury silk underwear and stockings you recently bought, the 3 inch high heels that you love me to parade in front of you, the earrings that you say are like my eyes, deep blue, the smart cashmere business suit with the tight fitting skirt that accentuates my bottom. Tell me I'm to bring the strap, the black leather one you made for me, and the red silk scarf, and place them on the table.

3.30 I'll pull my silk pants over my freshly showered bottom, I'll shiver with anticipation and excitement, stockings, heels, the suit, the earrings, perfume nothing too strong, nearly ready for you, god I'll feel sexy. The strap, I'll take it from your drawer and put it in my handbag along with the scarf.

3.45 I'll get in the car, only a short drive to the office.

4.00 I'll place the strap and the scarf on the table as instructed and be in position bent over the conference table ready waiting just waiting. I'll be still.

4.15 You won't have arrived. My body perspiring lightly, my heart beating so loud I will hear it. My black silk panties damp from the moisture between my legs, I’ll want so much to slip my hand down into my panties and feel my desire, stoke it, thinking of you, but still I will not move.

4.20 You won’t have arrived. I’d hear people in the street outside talking, laughing, doors shutting, dogs barking, a shiver runs through my body every time I hear footsteps approach, my palms sweaty from holding the table, my legs tired. I'll think you aren’t coming, my heart will be sad, upset, I will feel foolish, angry even.

Then you’ll come, I won't see you but I'll know it's you, your key in the door, your footsteps, I'll feel your presence behind me, you wont speak to me yet.

You'll touch my face, my hair, run your fingers down my back over the swell of my bottom, linger lightly there, I'll be shivering and trembling from your touch, my legs weak, I’ll hold the table tighter, I'll be moaning, Oh how I'll want your hand between my legs to take the ache away. But you won't take the ache away.

I’ll hear you pick something up and I know it’s the strap; you’ll put it in your pocket. You’ll take my hands and bind them lightly with the scarf, stretched out above my head; I know not to move them. You'll put your knee between my legs, move them a little further apart until they're just so. I'll let a low moan escape me, I can't help it, I want.

Your hand circles my bottom, I’ll want to turn around but I won’t. Your hands then shimmy my skirt up to my hips, pull my panties aside and I feel your fingers teasing, probing, exploring, my wetness. I’ll want to feel you inside me so so very much. I'll move my bottom to meet your hand to get every inch of contact with you. You swat me; I know I'm to keep keep still. You still won't speak.

Your hands raise my skirt fully up to my waist, which you hold firmly with your left hand, I know what that means. I feel your right hand caressing the fleshy mounds of my bottom through the flimsy silk of my pants, trailing lightly between the cheeks briefly touching the flesh where cheek meets thigh, and then your hand is raised and there's a whoosh of air as it crashes down hard against my right cheek, followed swiftly by the left, you repeat, build a steady cadence, it stings, makes me gasp. I clench involuntarily as the blows land but quickly relax again to plump out my flesh, make it attractive to you, to do with as you will. You'll notice these things.

When my little mms and ahhs start to become longer lower moans you'll stop. My bottom flesh is alive. All my senses are alert, I'm receptive to the slightest touch, a wisp of air as you move position, your thumbs as they smoothly hook the waistband of my panties, draw them slowly over my hips, my reddened cheeks, to rest at the tops of my stockings. I want to touch myself, I can't my wrists are tied, I wiggle my heated bottom, I'm trying to feel the table against my pussy, I can't, I moan and wiggle harder, I think it must look very lewd my red bottom framed by my stocking tops and suspender, writhing with such obvious intent. You must have noticed, you have to notice, you know me you know what I need.

You’ll say nothing, I hear movement. I’ll feel cool leather brush lightly against my greedy flesh, I’ll let out a whimper and push my bottom towards it, I'm unashamedly pleading, please touch me there right where my wetness glistens for you, please. You can see my arousal, you let the leather slide between my cheeks, touch me so briefly, I feel a trickle of moisture and try to clench the strap between my legs but it's withdrawn and my cheeks are left clenching air. You tell me I'm being lascivious, rude, greedy, impatient, that girls like me need firm discipline to keep their emotions in check. You make me answer in agreement, my voice is distorted with lust and I raise my buttocks as far as I can to please you.

I feel your left hand steady me, I let out another whimper, feel you raise your arm and then the strap comes thrashing down against my bottom with an ear splitting thwack, it connects with both cheeks, the leather is thick and supple, it curls a little but you'll adjust for that. I cry out, it's genuine, it hurts. You know it and bring the leather down again without giving me time to absorb the sting, aiming a little higher and shortening your stroke to cut the curl. You take it quickly to a dozen strokes I'm wriggling like an eel on the end of a line, I can't dissipate the pain, I can't imagine what my bottom looks like all I'm saying is please.... pleading.

Don't stop. Don't let me off the hook. I've been a naughty girl I need to be punished thoroughly until all those wanton feelings are subdued. Pause just a second, firm up your hold on me, tell me it's too late for pleading, raise the strap again bring it down harder than before, my bottom's hotter now it can take more, don't feel for me, a dozen more, two dozen if necessary until my wiggling has stopped and you can hear my sobbing.

Stop. Untie my wrists, help me up I'll be bit unsteady, and take me in your arms and tell me how much you love me. Don't fuss over me too much don't regret what you've done.

Tell me to go straighten up in the washroom now and then go home. You'll be a couple of hours yet, you'll see me later.

I’ll go, I’ll probably have a spring in my step as I walk to the car, and no doubt I’ll smile to anyone I pass in the street, they'll probably think I’m mad, I'll prepare something nice for dinner, your favorite and open a bottle of wine.



Thank you Ronnie! What a hot letter! I sure hope that when your husband reads this that it can become a reality! If any of you are not familiar with Ronnie's work you need to check out her blog, Heart and Soul! Please leave her a comment and let her know what you think of her story, then pop over to her site to read even more.

 If any of you are writing and are willing to share with us that would be great. Send your stories to elisspeaks@yahoo.com

Thanks again Ronnie, the story was great!