Fantasy Friday - The Session

Welcome back to Fantasy Friday! We have a brand new story today. And an even more rare occurrence these days, I wrote it. Whenever I'm working on a book, I often close my eyes and watch and listen to the scene unfold before me. I think of it as half dreaming, half imagination. I was in this half-dream state the other day and this story wandered in of it's own accord. I wrote it in about fifteen minutes once I was fully awake.

You never know, it could be a book of its own some day. But for now I hope you enjoy ...

The Session

Agent Lewis stared at the discipline sheet before him. Olivia again, he mused. Some women never seemed to learn. Not that he was particularly bothered by that. He liked Olivia and her husband. She was a lovely woman, a bit plump, white mingling into her blonde hair, but still so lovely. She was also one also the handful of mature clients his firm worked with. Lewis had requested to be assigned to the women with a bit more maturity. Twenty to thirty year old brats annoyed him. The women he disciplined were more interesting. Their ‘infractions’ more

involved and thought provoking. They didn’t tend to over spend, drive drunk or scream and yell at their husbands. Getting to the seat of the problem, Lewis smiled at the double meaning, was the key. But these women truly seem to love their spouses more and seldom fought the idea of a discipline session. Most of the women in his group needed to release their perceived guilt.

     Olivia’s husband had tried. This couple obviously loved one another deeply. At her core Olivia simply needed firm discipline, but her husband wasn’t a strict disciplinarian. Lewis felt the man had been correct in seeking the help of his firm.

He buzzed his outer office and had Olivia sent in. He glanced up, she looked contrite and somewhat embarrassed. “I’m disappointed to see you again, Olivia. I’d hoped we had this worked out.”

“Yes,” she stammered out. “I thought so too, but I just couldn’t help myself.”

“Couldn’t help yourself. That’s a pretty poor excuse.”

Olivia hung her head and nodded. “The charges, once again, say you self-gratified without your husband’s permission. Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir,’ she answered quietly. “He wasn’t home.”

“He wasn’t home. And you chose not to wait on him? In the agreement you signed after your last discipline session, you approved the clause that stated he would be present for any orgasm you have, whether participating or watching. Is that not correct.”

Olivia nodded again.

“I need to hear your answer,” Lewis said sternly. 

“Yes sir, it is,” she answered quickly.

“In your evaluation you told us you don’t have sexual desires as much as you used to. That’s not completely unusual at your age. Many would consider it normal. But you said when you do have these feelings you take care of them yourself. Thus, cutting your husband out of the whole picture. Do you realize how selfish this is?”

“Yes, sir. I guess it is,” she answered.

“You guess. Has your husband ever refused you sex?”

“No, sir.”

“I see. I believe your husband is a wise man. He sees what’s happening and he wants it corrected. Yet, he doesn’t want to be too hard on you. He must love you a great deal. That’s why he’s hired us. We handle the discipline and he reaps the benefits. Those benefit being, when you need sexual gratification you go to him and only him.”

In a near whisper Olivia admitted. “It’s very hard for me to have an orgasm. A vibrator is really the only way.”

“That’s perfectly acceptable,” Lewis told her. “But it should still be with your husband and with his permission. He can choose to use the vibrator to satisfy you or you can ask for him to use it. You might realize that having to wait, to anticipate, could well heighten your sexual desires. You agreed that you can’t self-gratify without his permission. If he’s not home, or you can’t get hold of him to ask – you  will wait! Is that clear.”

“Yes sir, that’s clear.”

“That’s also what you said after our last discipline session. What punishment did you receive at that time?”

Olivia blushed deeply. “You spanked me, sir. On the bare,” she continued at a whisper.

“Did you feel the punishment was fair and warranted?”

“Yes, I know I deserved it,” Olivia agreed quietly.

“Hmm… evidently I wasn’t very effective,” he mused.

“Oh you were, sir. Truly! It was a very long time before I used the vibrator alone.”

“But you did use it again. And here we are back together.” He became very business-like. “You will be spanked again today. In addition you will be wearing a plug for a good portion of the session. Furthermore …”

“Please, don’t make me wear a plug,” she moaned. “It’s so embarrassing. And it’s … uncomfortable.”

“When someone is getting ready to spank you, interrupting is not the wisest thing,” Lewis informed her.

“As I was saying,” he went on, “you will wear a plug and I will be trying some hot creams. Since the spanking alone was enough to change your behavior. I’ve found creams to be very effective at times.”

Olivia stared, her mouth hanging open. 

“In fact I may suggest that your husband request an additional session where we can discover just which hot creams might be the most effective on you. Then he may have something he can use at home for … reminders.

“Now, as before, you will be given breaks during your

spanking to give you time to reflect on your misbehaviors. At the end of the session, your husband will come to collect and comfort you. You two will have the room for another hour after you and I are finished. He can take you home at that time, or continue the discipline or well …  your activities will be his choice. I hope we won’t have to repeat today’s lesson and I can assure you that YOU had better hope we don’t.” 

     Standing, Lewis indicated that the discussion part of the day was concluded. “I’ll see you in Room B in five minutes,” he stated. “Let’s have a good day.”

~~

You never know what might pop up in your dreams. My theory is that we all have dreams, snippets, spanking thoughts running through our heads at times (at least if you're reading here.) So the next time you have the chance for a little nap, keep something to write with near by. You may come up with your own story. Please send any stories you're willing to share to elisspeaks@yahoo.com

 

 

My StoryWorth Book

I’m hearing from more and more people that are thinking about doing a StoryWorth book. That’s what LJ and Collin gave me Christmas before last. This is the place that send our one question a week and you can write your answer or story and at the end of the year you get all your stories printed in a nice book. You can even include pictures. Mine is now complete! 

The timing was pretty good. Today is LJ’s birthday. How he got to be thirty-three, I’ll never know. But he should get his book today. Mollie got hers last night. Mollie is not a big reader – she listens to audible, but hates to read. What do you know – I wrote a book she likes! I gave up on the StoryWorth questions after the third week. I thought they were boring. So I ask my kids for questions. They had pretty good ones.

 

I wrote about their grandparent's childhood, how they met and married. Then about my childhood, my school days and finally meeting their father. I wrote about finding out I was pregnant with each of them. I kept a paper diary at the time so the stories of their births I took right from what I wrote then. 

 

I wrote about odds and ends. Certainly about their childhoods and family trips how it felt for them to go away to college from my point of view. And then the last story I wrote was a thank-you to them. Telling them how proud I am of each of them and especially telling them that I know that they love me – I have no doubts. You worry when you lose your parents, you wonder if you truly let them know how much you loved them or did you just assume that they knew. I do know and I wanted that fact in the book. 

 

But the very end of the book I took from one of the Cassie books – when Tom made a Valentine video for Cassie with picture throughout their years together. And as Cassie watched it and it came closer to present day she dreaded seeing ‘the end’ as it finished. But Tom didn’t put that. He ended the video the same way I ended my book –

 

 To be continued.

I got my play date!

As Windy commented at The Continued Journey Friday, it was like Oprah was giving out play dates this weekend. There hasn’t been much playing going on here lately. Heaven know I hadn’t initiated any lately. There have been many reasons, I even have a blog written all about it that I’m sure I’ll post eventually. I’ve been fine with the lack of action. But Nick, apparently he’s been thinking.

 

I got the following email – 

 

It occurs to me that in the name of integrity as an author, one should look for opportunities to experience occasionally a touch of what one writes. 

 

Perhaps I may be of assistance.

 

If you concede this point, even grudgingly, please give this idea proper consideration and respond with your thoughts within 24 hours.

 

Helpfully yours,

N

 

I was very surprised. It did catch my interest. I liked that I had twenty-four hours to respond. There were several emails exchanged. We’re empty nesters, there was no rush. We flirted and talked back and forth for a few days… just a little game to let the sexual tension build. It was fun. It was a little like the old days of TTWD. And we did have a wonderful afternoon.

But he wasn’t kidding about the author integrity – he felt I should keep up with what I write about. So I say, Damn you and your zealous use of the hairbrush, Tom Duff! 

Fantasy Friday Revival - Made to Behave

Welcome back for another Fantasy Friday. I know most of the country is shivering this weekend. Maybe a good story will help you warm up. This story comes from Lori. Please enjoy...

Made to Behave

I’m an old fashioned girl. I truly believe in the man being the head of the household. It’s not the norm to think that way in this day and time. According to many of my friends, women are supposed to take care of themselves, wear the pants and stand firm in taking charge of their own life. I just don’t fit that mold. As long as I can remember, from a small child even, I knew when I got married my husband was going to be a man who wore the pants. He was going to be a loving strong leader and a good father to our children.

I had two long term relationships in my early dating years. In both of these relationships, I tried to get these guys to be leaders over me. Neither one seemed to get it. One of them ended up hitting me with fists instead of spanking me. I doubt spanking ever entered his mind since we were in our teens and he was really just a kid himself, but nevertheless my desire to be controlled ended up in an abusive relationship. In the second relationship, I also suggested being spanked once. His only response was “that wouldn’t do any good.” So, I struck out again. I wanted someone who could control me and make me behave.

As I was dating my now husband, I could see the possibility with him as one who could and would make me behave. I hated the reckless ways I had been living. I wanted someone to save me from myself. We didn’t date more than two months before we were engaged. Some were not happy with such a short courtship but I was sure this would work out fine. Well, I soon was to find out.

Because of my previous reckless ways, I had been stopped by the police for speeding about twelve times in the town we lived in and neighboring communities in the past year. My father had been on the local police force almost all my life but was now retired. Most of the officers in our town have watched me grow up. So needless to say, they let me go every time I was stopped.

It got so bad though that these officers got together one day and had a meeting about me. They all decided that letting me go was something they were not going to do anymore. I received a heads-up on this meeting by one of the officer’s wives. That evening I repeated this news to my new fiancé and informed him of all the times I had been stopped. I hadn’t seen any reason to discuss it with him before. He was shocked and made it clear that I was to immediately change my ways. I was no longer to give these officers any reason to ticket me. Ahhh yes, this marriage was going to work out fine.

Michael and I had moved into our new house and awaited our day. Three weeks before the wedding, I was traveling down the road at, well let’s just say a speed above what was posted. Because I wasn’t really paying attention, I was surprised to see the blue lights flashing behind me. Uh Oh, I’ve done it now. But wait, as the officer exited his car I could see that this was a new officer. I didn’t know him and he didn’t know me. He didn’t even run my license. He just asked me if I knew how fast I was going, told me what the speed limit was on that street and ordered me to slow down. Wow, that was lucky.

On my way home, I wondered what Michael would say when he heard what happened. He was pretty firm about my not speeding anymore, but how would he back that up? I guess this is what I’ve been waiting to find out.

As we finished our dinner I decided it was a good time to mention my mishap with our local police. I decided to take the approach of making into a matter of fact statement. I said “Oh my gosh, you would not believe what happened to me today.” He glanced at me with a look of curiosity waiting for me to reveal some really good or exciting news. “I was driving down Power’s Rd. and all of a sudden there was a cop behind me with his light’s on.” The small curious smile on the face of Michael melted to a look of sternness. 

 

“Were you speeding” he inquired? 

 

“Yes I guess I was but he didn’t even give me a ticket,” I replied. 

 

“I thought I told you to knock it off,”,he said. I sat there, not knowing what to say, waiting to get the rest of my scolding and wondering if he would take it further. “What am I going to do with you? I DO NOT want you getting stopped for speeding and I made it clear you were to watch what you were doing. You got lucky this time. If I could take your license, I would do it.”

I wasn’t sure if he really wanted me to answer his question of what he was going to do with me but I thought that I’d have no better chance than now to blurt it out. I said, “Well, you could spank me”. He just looked at me with a puzzled look. My heart just sank. He didn’t take me seriously. He just got mad and went to sit on the couch. I cleaned up the kitchen in silence and then went to sit by him. Normally as soon as I sit down on the couch he will put his arm around me. He didn’t budge and didn’t look at me. He was very upset so I asked him if he was going to be mad all night. He just ignored me and I could see that we were in for a very long, silent night.

I knew that if he would just spank me, he wouldn’t be upset about it any longer. I took his hand, looked at him and said, “Just spank me.” 

“NO,” he said. “Why would I do that? I can’t believe you want me to do that.” He was becoming very upset. 

 

“What’s wrong with it? I want you to.” I said. At that, he got up off the couch, grabbed his coat and left the house. I heard his car start up and he was gone. I began to cry, wondering if I could ever explain myself. That was not the reaction I was hoping to receive. How was I now supposed to tell him that I wanted discipline? I was so confused. I cried and waited for him to return.

He must have gone to the corner store because he wasn’t gone that long. When he came in the door, he just looked at me and said, “Why do you want me to hurt you?” 

 

“You aren’t going to hurt me, you are just going to spank me” I answered. 

 

He sat down on the couch next to me and shook his head. We sat in silence for about four minutes and then he said “Ok, come here.” He grabbed my wrist and took me in the bedroom. He sat on the end of the bed, pulled my pants and panties down to my knees and put me over his. There I was, in the position I had always wanted to be in, now wondering what it was going to feel like. I hadn’t been spanked since I was about eight years old. My heart was racing and all at once I felt the first slap. 

 

“OWW!” I cried out. Another hard slap. I managed to bite my lip on that one. Then Michael laid into my bottom with slaps coming hard and quick, holding me on to his lap with his free hand. I tried to reach back to stop the burn and he grabbed my hand pulling it onto the small of my back pressing it there. “STOP,” I cried. It hurt way more than I had imagined. He just kept spanking and finally it ended. I fell off his lap onto the floor, breathless. I had tears in my eyes when I looked up at him. He was breathless as well. 

 

He told me to get up and he helped me as I did. He hugged me and said that he hoped he would not have to repeat that for any more speeding incidents. Repeat? That means he is willing to do it again. I cried in his arms but not because of the pain on my backside, but because I had found the man of my dreams.

Three weeks later we were married. There have been several more spankings for different matters but never a spanking again for speeding. That first spanking will always be something I’ll remember.

~o~

Thank you Lori, I know many of us can relate to this story. I know everyone has a story in their head. That's why you read here. Some fantasy that rolls around in your head when you're dreaming about being spanked. I hope you'll write that fantasy and share it with us. If you do send it to elisspeaks@yahoo.com

I love it when you - TBT

Sometimes we are quick to complain (at least to each other out here) when our former vanilla husbands don’t do everything the way we have fantasized about all our lives. I want to take today to tell Nick some things he does that I love.

I love it when you –

touch my butt. Whether you are spanking as hard as you can or rubbing my behind when I press against you at night or that gentle pat or secret touch in public.

I love it when you –

you bring home toys. It can be a fine leather paddle you ordered, or a flyswatter or a 5 gallon paint stirrer, it wouldn’t matter. Any of these would affect me the way flowers, candy or ever jewels affect other women.

I love it when you –

talk to me about spanking and our blogging friends. You are the only one I can talk to face to face about TTWD and these friends we have made here. It makes me feel close to you – our sweet, private secret.

I love it when you –

take complete charge in the bedroom. Nothing makes me hotter than feeling I am yours and you will decide what you are going with me… to me… for me. I have loved everything we have tried and I look forward to trying more.

 

The BEST Valentine's Day ever!

 

I’m not talking about yesterday. I mean Valentine’s day was nice this year, but not the very best I’ve ever had. Nick went out and got a nice ribeye roast, we baked potatoes and had some mixed veggies. I hadn’t gone out to get him anything, even a card. I’ve been stuck in the house for a year now. Nick and Mollie are the only people I see and now both of them have been vaccinated. With all the new more contagious variants around I just didn’t think it was a good idea to go searching through a bunch of previously handled cards in the drugstore. But, I did make his favorite brownies to go with our dinner.

We put the candles on the table and used the good plates, we had wine. We spent most of our time giggling at our efforts, it’s just not us. But the dinner was delicious and we had a good time.

But my best Valentine’s Day came nearly thirty years ago. We were trying to get pregnant – with no results. LJ was little and he was adored. But I longed for another child. But we’d been trying for nearly four years and as the age of thirty-six fast approached, I was getting worried. I was getting emotional too.

A man came to the middle school for a musical program and one of the songs he sang was Randy Travis’, ‘I’m Gonna Love you Forever.’ As he was singing it I started to cry. That's just what you want when sitting at the top of the bleachers surrounded by sixth graders. Then, a few days later, Valentine’s Day, I was driving to work when the DJ’s wife called in on the radio with a Valentine poem for her husband,  she said, 

“Roses are Red, 

Violets are blue, 

I hope the baby looks just like you,” 

and I just lost it. I had to have someone go sit with my class for the first ten minutes until I could get myself under control.

I got through the teaching day, a little unsettled and a little sad. I wanted to be pregnant so badly. I was a week late, but that wasn’t unusual. But little voice inside me was saying, ‘go ahead and check, it can’t hurt.’ But I knew it could hurt. If I didn’t take the test I could have a tiny bit of hope. It I took it and it was negative, all hope was gone.

I had a test at the house and I decided to get it over with. I was almost depressed as I peed on the stick and left the test to do its thing. I was supposed to wait five minutes to read and I know I waited a little longer and with a heavy heart I headed back to look. 

I glanced at it and looked away. Then seriously nearly put a crick in my neck as jerked back to stare. The results said POSITIVE!

Nick had gotten home and he had roses for me – it was Valentine’s Day, you remember. And I pulled him into the kitchen, pulled out the stick and whispered, “This thing says I’m pregnant!”

I don’t think either of us believed it. I remember writing in my diary, “I keep staring at the dots that say I’m pregnant waiting for them to change or a little flag to pop up and say, ‘Just kidding!’

But it was true – what a Valentine’s Day! Roses and a baby from Nick!

Fantasy Friday Revival - The Salvage

It’s Friday again and I've gone back and found another story for us. If there are those of you who are just dreaming of beginning this life style maybe you need to send your guy here for a little reading today.

The Salvage

Beth and Mike had been friends with Tim and Lana for more years than they could remember. The boys had been best friends in high school. They had gone their separate ways for college where they each met their wives. After college, they served the role of best man at each other’s weddings. The girls genuinely liked one another and the four spent a lot of time together. The boys golfed and played basketball at the gym. The girls shopped and talked.

They helped each other raise five terrific children between them. With the pressures of parenthood behind them and middle age before them, the four had looked forward to the years ahead. They talked of trips, cruises, and grandchildren. Their lives were secure and happy.

None of them could predict what was about to take place. Beth and Mike especially knew that their friends would always be together, happy and strong. Tim and Lana had thought the same about the other couple.

When Mike and Beth arrived at the restaurant first, they thought nothing of it. They got a table and talked about the day as they waited for Tim and Lana.

“So what did Joe say when you told him you’d had enough of his games?”

“How was lunch with the girls?”

“Did you remember to stop at the bank?”

“I need to swing by the mall tomorrow on the way to your moms and pick up Sarah’s birthday gift.”

Mike looked at his watch. Beth realized that it must be past their meeting time. Sure enough Tim and Lana were already 20 minutes late. It was not like them. Beth reached for her cell phone and called Lana.

“No answer. I hope they’re okay.”

For the next few minutes they looked over the menu and discussed what sounded good, healthy, fattening, and otherwise.

After a few more minutes passed by Mike said, “I’m getting worried. Let me try to reach Tim.”

“Hello?”

“Tim, buddy. Are you and Lana standing us up?”

“I’m sorry. We’re not going to be able to make it.”

“Everything okay?”

At that, Tim broke down. He said that things weren’t okay and that he needed to hang up.

Mike relayed the brief conversation to Beth. They both agreed that it sounded as though their friends needed them. It not only sounded serious. It felt serious.

On the 20 minute drive to Tim and Lana’s place they discussed what might be wrong. They were both pretty certain that someone had died. Maybe it was Lana’s mother. Her heart had given her problems in the past. Maybe it was Tim’s dad. After all, he didn’t take very good care of himself.

“Beth, let’s quit speculating. You’re getting yourself all worked up when it might be nothing.”

“You’re right. Let’s just wait until we get there.”

As they pulled onto Tim and Lana’s road, Beth immediately noticed Lana’s car wasn’t in the drive. When they went to the door, they could see Tim sitting on the couch. They didn’t bother to knock. They walked on in. They stood there. Staring.

While they stared at Tim, he stared at the floor. Finally he looked up; first at Beth then at Mike. When he looked back to the floor he broke into sobs.

Mike and Beth sat on either side of him. Beth put her hand on his shoulder. They let him cry for about a minute when finally Mike asked, “Buddy, are you going to tell us what this is all about or do we have to guess?”

“She’s gone.”

“Gone? Who’s gone?”

“Lana. I came home from work and she was gone.”

Apparently Lana hadn’t gone to work. Tim didn’t know that until he came home from work and found all her things gone. The note she left said:

Dear Tim,

I know this will come as a shock to you but if you really knew me, you would have seen it coming. I haven’t been happy for years. The passion is gone. In fact I don’t think there was ever passion between us

to begin with. I don’t know how to tell you what I want because quite honestly, I’m not sure myself. I don’t know what I want. I just know that what we have is not it.

I’ve tried. I’ve tried to feel the passion, to create it between us but honestly I don’t know how. I don’t know how to feel anything anymore. It’s not your fault. I know you’ve always done what you thought was best for us. And you’ve always done what you knew made me happy. The problem is, I’m not happy. I need time to sort through all this. Don’t be sad. It wasn’t all bad.

Tim seemed to pull it together a little as Beth and Mike read Lana’s letter.

Later that night as Mike held Beth, she drifted off to sleep. As she slept in his arms, Mike’s mind went back to the night he came home to the same situation. He never told anyone about it because he didn’t need to.

He remembered being extremely hurt and angry that Beth would consider leaving him. She had said pretty much the same things that Lana said in her letter to Tim: No passion, unhappy. He had done everything he knew to make her happy. When Beth had came home later that night he was ready to fight for her. She had come back because in the end she just couldn’t do it. Oh, she could leave him because she wasn’t happy but she couldn’t leave their children. She had come back because of them and Mike had known he had a second chance to make things work between them.

So when she had returned that night he cornered her. In his frustration he yelled at her. Through the tears and the anger he yelled: “What do you want? What am I not doing? Why won’t you talk to me?”

Beth had sat on the edge of the bed and hung her head. She couldn’t, wouldn’t tell him. How does a grown woman who’s been married for years tell this man who adores her that what she really wants, what she really needs is for him to put her over his knee, bend her over a chair, have her lean against a tree? How?

It wasn’t easy but finally she managed to get past her embarrassment and tell him. After all she really didn’t have much to lose at that point. At first he wasn’t buying it but like so many others they’ve come to know over the years he got on the internet and typed in that wonderfully exciting word: SPANKING. Just like the rest he was amazed at what he found. And then he wondered.

After two weeks had passed, Beth was sure he hadn’t heard her really and probably thought she was nuts so imagine her surprise when he came home from work on a Friday night, told her that his parents were keeping the kids, and they were going to spend the night “talking.”

The conversation started off slow and awkward but by the end of the night they were laughing and playing with different kitchen utensils, belts, and brushes. It had been the night of Mike’s life and it turned their marriage in a whole new direction filled with fun, passion, love, and lust. From that day forward spanking became the idea that they both claim saved their marriage.

They’d never told anyone although they did suspect that a few close friends might know or might even be spankos themselves, but now as Mike drifted off to sleep he knew the time had come. He would call Tim tomorrow and tell him everything. He knew what it had done for him and Beth. Now with Tim and Lana in a marital mess, how could he not tell him? How could he not make this attempt to save his best friend’s marriage?

And Mike did just that. He went to Tim and told him the whole story of how Beth had written a similar letter years ago and how it all unfolded from there. At times Tim appeared shocked and appalled but at the same time his curiosity came through. He asked questions. He asked lots of questions. Later when he was alone, he got onto the internet and checked out some of the sites Mike had suggested. Over the next few days he read everything he could find and realized what he’d been very possibly overlooking in his own marriage and he wondered. Could this be the missing key to the passion that Lana’s longing for?

He now knew what he wanted to do…needed to do, but how would Lana receive it? If he was wrong, she’d view it as abuse. If he was right though…oh, if he was right it could change everything.

He called Lana at work and told her he had some things to discuss with her about this end to their marriage. She agreed to meet him for a drink after work.

He arranged for them to have a private table in a dark corner of the bar. When she arrived, his heart skipped a beat. After all these years he still loved her deeply. He was nervous but knew… he knew he had to follow through with this plan in a way that didn’t leave her feeling threatened.

He started off slow by asking how she was doing and other small talk questions. She answered with short answers. She didn’t want to get into anything too deep. She wanted to find out what he needed to discuss and get on with her evening.

Finally he couldn’t stand it. He looked at her with tears in his eyes and said “I love you. I miss you.” She said she knew that but she couldn’t continue on in the marriage. When he asked why not she mumbled something about passion.

“Passion! You want passion? I always gave you passion! I thought our sex life was wonderful.”

“It was, but it was never enough.”

That hurt Tim and he said, “Never enough? What in the hell do you want?”

“I want a MAN. I wanted you to be a man and take control like a MAN does.”

Tim’s confidence grew as he began to realize that Mike was probably right. He looked her straight in the eye and said “I always thought I was being a man.”

She assured him that while he thought that, she longed for more at times. She then let her guard down a smidge as she said “There are times, I wish you’d just take control of us, of me. I get so tired of being strong.”

“You mean in bed?”

“In bed, out of bed! It doesn’t matter!!!”

Tim was starting to see that Lana needed a man she could lean on for strength, for support and yes, even for being told what to do. She explained to Tim that she knows it sounds weird and that’s why she could never tell him that she longs for a man who knows when to tell her what to do, how to do it, when to do it and at the same time she longs for a man who knows when NOT to do those things.

He looked deep into her eyes. His jaw clenched. She couldn’t stand the intensity of the moment so she looked down at the table. It was then that he said “I want you to get up right now, go into the restroom, take off your panties and bring them back to me.” At that her heart was the one to skip a beat when she looked at him.

“Go. Now.”

She got up not believing that she was about to do what he was demanding but enjoying the excitement of the thoughts entering her mind.

When she returned to the table he leaned across holding out his hand. She placed the wadded up bunch of material into his hand. He put her panties into his jacket pocket telling her she’d get them back when he decided to return them. Then he did something that surprised both of them.

He leaned across the table, looked into her eyes and said “You are coming home with me. You are going to end this nonsense right now. We’ll go get your things tomorrow but for tonight we’ve got some business to take care of.”

He wasn’t sure of himself at this point but could only hope he was headed in the right direction. He knew it would be an evening to either make or completely break their relationship.

“Furthermore, when we do get home the first thing you’re going to do is lift that skirt so that I can punish you for leaving in the first place and after that you will beg me to make love to you. Is that understood, Lana?”

“Lana? I’m talking to you.”

As a lone tear rolled down her cheek she stood, held out her hand to Tim and said, “Take me home now. Please?”

~o~

This story was written for us by Grace the author of A Day in the Life. Grace has been blogging for longer than I have but she's been battling the effects of cancer treatment lately. Most of that is behind her now and although it was tough she made it through. I hope she will write again, her blog and maybe a story for us!  

If you would like to share a story with us please send it to elisspeaks@yahoo.com

When figging just isn't enough...

When I posted my memory of figging I remembered this old post that still gives me the giggles. I hope you enjoy it.

Alright folk I got this email from a friend and made the mistake of opening it at school.  Sixth graders are not used to their teacher dissolving into helpless giggles but while it was funny on its own I think the thought of sharing this with all of you made it that much funnier.  

Rob is a commercial saturation diver for Global Divers in Louisiana.  He performs underwater repairs on offshore drilling rigs. The following is an email he sent to his sister. She then sent it to radio station 103.2 FM in Ft. Wayne, Indiana, who was sponsoring a worst job experience contest.  Needless to say she won.

Hi Sue,

Just another note from your bottom-dwelling brother. Last week I had

a bad day at the office.  I know you’ve been feeling down lately at work, so I thought I would share my dilemma with you to make you realize it’s not so bad after all.

Before I can tell you what happened to me, I first must bore you with a few technicalities of my job.  As you know, my office lies at the bottom of the sea.  I wear a suit to the office.  It’s a wet suit. This time of year the water is quite cool.  So what we do to keep warm is this:  we have a diesel powered industrial water heater.  This $20,000 piece of equipment sucks the water out of the sea.  It heats it to a delightful temperature.  It then pumps it down to the diver through a garden hose, which is taped to the air hose.  Now this sounds like a darn good plan, and I’ve used it several times with no complaints. What I do when I get to the bottom and start working, is take the hose and stuff it down the back of my wet suit.  This floods my whole suit with warm water. It’s like working in a Jacuzzi.

Everything was going well until all of a sudden, my butt started to itch.  So, of course, I scratched it.  This only made things worse.  Within a few seconds my butt stared to burn.  I pulled the hose out from my back, but the damage was done.  In agony I realized what had happened. The hot water machine had sucked up a jellyfish and pumped it into my suit.  Now, since I don’t have any hair on my back, the jellyfish couldn’t stick to it however, the crack of my butt was not as fortunate.

When I scratched what I thought was an itch, I was actually grinding the jellyfish into the crack of my butt.  I informed the supervision of my dilemma over the communicator.  His instructions were unclear do to the fact that he, along with five other divers, were all laughing hysterically.

Needless to say I aborted the dive.  I was instructed to make three agonizing in-water decompressions stops totaling thirty-five minutes before I could reach the surface to begin my chamber dry decompression.When I arrived at the surface, I was wearing nothing but my brass helmet.

As I climbed out of the water, the medic, with tears of laughter running down his face, handed me a tube of cream and told me to rub it on my butt as soon as I got in the chamber.  The cream put the fire out, but I couldn’t poop for two days because my butt was swollen shut!

So, next time you’re having a bad day at work, think about how much worse it would be if you had a jellyfish shoved up your butt.

Now repeat to yourself, “I love my job, I love my job, I love my job.”

Now when you have a bad day, ask yourself, is this a jellyfish bad day?

May you NEVER have a jellyfish bad day.