Fantasy Friday - Sunlight Sunday - What happened next

I don't get too many Fantasy Friday stories these days. Certainly not ones written with the amazing writing skills of the one I got the other day. Rosie's husband, Harry, has done it again. He wrote a sequel to his first story that you can read here. I serious when I say Harry is a fantastic writer and I have no idea why writing hasn't always been his career. I have no doubt you'll agree with me.

Please enjoy...

Sunlight Sunday - What happened next?

It was a beautiful late summer afternoon and the sun warmed his back through his shirt, making him feel mellow and quietly happy. Rosie’s mother had visited for lunch that day and he had just returned from taking her home. The red brick house positively glowed this afternoon and, with the curtains half drawn against the earlier strong sunlight, it seemed as though it was happily drowsing with heavy eyelids. Harry couldn’t think of the word that best described the feeling he was experiencing, it was on the tip of his tongue but kept eluding him like an answer in a crossword puzzle. He was watching a robin that flew nearby and settled on the ground. It tilted its head and studied them; not as a source of danger but as if it was also enjoying a shared moment of contentment. Ah! That was the word that had been escaping him, contentment. 

He reviewed his situation. Here he was, in his late 60s now, sitting on the firm comfortable cushions of a bamboo sofa, enjoying the late summer warmth and admiring the superb view in his garden. The garden was a tranquil place bordered with tall trees to the sides and a high wooden fence at the far end. This meant that he and Rosie were seldom disturbed. Their neighbours on both sides were private people like them and although there was an unlocked gate between each house no one just walked in on each other. As it happened this weekend both neighbours were away visiting family and so he alone had the privilege of the stunning view.

He had studied those hills and the valley long before he and Rosie had found the house and bought it. The garden, with the prospect of studying the view in private, was one of his enticements to buy. He cast his eyes over it for a thousandth time and felt the happiness course through him again. The valley before him was neither too wide nor too deep and was formed by nature many years ago, like him! It was still smooth sided with an attractive flat area just before the hills began rising to the south. Harry was always attracted to this feature and insisted on describing his joy of it to Rosie, whose position on the sofa meant that she couldn’t actually see it. The hills reminded him of the North Wessex Downs around Lambourn, an area in southern England where the hills were soft and without blemish, they rolled from one into another with grace and ease.

At this time of day the hills were particularly attractive, what with the fading sunlight that seemed to gently caress the eastern slopes. The shadows were starting to form in the lee of the hills and he knew that soon, as the temperature dropped, the area below the valley would become damp and moist.

Unexpectedly the hills began rising and moving, shifting position as Rosie squirmed face down across his lap, upsetting her naked landscape and destroying his little fantasy. “I’m getting stiff and I’ll soon have goose bumps all over my bottom if you don’t stop admiring the view,” she said. Well, Harry thought, I can’t have my lady complaining about the service can I?  His right hand fell across the furthest hill (her right hand cheek) and her derrière trembled back and forth with the shock. Not so Rosie, who had been expecting this arrival with some anticipation and indeed trepidation, for she had not been a “good girl” today.

With nobody home next door the caresses and the volume increased in intensity and Rosie began to squirm again, not with anticipation now. Although the day’s temperature was falling, the heat was rising nicely and the lower part of the valley did indeed become damp and moist. Rosie’s hills had taken on a very pleasing pinkish tint which, Harry thought, went well with the fading sunshine. Unfortunately the robin had departed with the sound of the first warm up caress – he seemed, well, shocked that this warm sunlit garden could be the scene of such goings on. The house of course knew better. In Harry’s mind the robin’s departure was something of a shame as he thought that he could probably colour match the robin’s proud breast with Rosie’s proud bottom – his work rate intensified along with his thoughts. Rosie hid her smile.

They had evolved an ad-hoc routine when Rosie’s mother came to Sunday lunch. Ordinarily they would lazily waste the morning in bed with breakfast followed by a glass or two of Champagne and then one thing might lead to another. This morning, however, Rosie had, without provocation (the house would confirm this he was sure) sent his almost hot coffee over his hand resulting in “grievous pain and suffering” – his words. Rosie dismissed his complaint with a “Pffft!”

This was his revenge (and his pleasure), and from under the cushion he took hold of a mighty weapon he had found in a small shop in France – a long handled heavy wooden jam spoon. Rosie was in fear of this implement and he took delight in secretly producing it for maximum effect. The trick was to change hands from right to left during spanking without Rosie realising, and then apply justice with the spoon in his right. The effect was immediate, a yell escaped from Rosie’s mouth, full blooded and panic-stricken as she attempted to escape her position. He was having none of it. Harry was ready and waiting and quickly placed his left hand firmly in the small of her back with a “I don’t think so my darling.” The spoon left pretty blobs of pink flowers where it had rested on Rosie’s cheeks – no sign of goose bumps now, he could feel the heat beginning to rise as the smile left her lips.

Harry never used the spoon more than 5 or 6 times on these occasions, after which he caressed and gently smoothed away the sting, allowing her breathing to slow again. He rubbed one pink globe up and down and then the other, gyrating them against each other – they were magnificent. His hand began exploring the darker areas of the valley while Rosie recovered and found that the dampness had turned into an enticing trickle. His fingers spread her lips and began searching for the source of this wonder. Rosie’s breathing had reversed and began increasing again with small snuffles escaping from her mouth. She was almost delirious as the messages from her body flooded her brain. He loved this power over her and it often gave rise to erotic thoughts, what if Rosie were bound and helpless?

He used his left hand to softly pry her arms from her sides, moving them, bent at the elbow, into the small of her back so that they overlapped side by side. His right hand was still busy exploring Rosie’s soaking wet softness, keeping her brain intoxicated. The smoothness and delicate internal places of a well lubricated woman was still a great wonder to him. Harry now put into action a plan, no, a fantasy, he had been constructing for some time. He took some strips of bondage tape from behind the cushion and, without hesitating, wrapped them around Rosie’s forearms where they overlapped, binding them and pinning them in place. Rosie woke up to her predicament but was now helpless in desire and in fact. Harry and the one eyed monster, along with his two cohorts, were on a mission and the planning was working out very well indeed. More strips of tape followed rapidly and voilà! With the intimate exploration proceeding below, indeed Rosie seemed to have changed up a gear; she was now truly at the mercy of his desires. 

The house viewed this unexpected development with the alarm of a maiden aunt. It had witnessed some times with these two but, really! In the garden! In daylight! A light breeze swung the curtains closed as if hiding its embarrassment.

Harry allowed the awareness of Rosie’s position to fully sink in, whilst not relaxing his attention on her intimate areas. He now had the logistical problem of rearranging Rosie into a more receptive position from across his lap. If she resisted, his plan was in ashes; he would not, could not, force his wife against her will. However, that iron will seemed pretty pliable right now. By gently pushing his left hand beneath Rosie’s upper body he was hoping to lift her and use his right hand to move her hips, swinging them across her body so that she would be sitting on his lap and, err, other things, with her back to his chest. However, as his hand pushed under her body he found her breasts taut and her nipples hard. The contact brought a soft moan from Rosie’s lips and as he lifted her she swung herself the opposite way to that which he had planned. Suddenly Rosie was facing him with her knees bent either side of his legs, her body with those beautiful, needy breasts pushing against him! 

Harry suddenly had the surprised look on his face, whereas Rosie had a really clever, clever, little girl look on hers. When Rosie smiled like that, he thought, her face could write a song on his heart. 

Rosie laid her head on his shoulder and whispered in his ear, “Move forward on the sofa darling, otherwise we can’t reach each other!” Soon, she was moving, arms bound, with a beautiful rhythm.

Harry forgot what happened after that, but suffice to say the house didn’t make any night-time noises for a month, the equivalent of it not speaking to us, he thought. 

Serves it right – it must have been peeking!

  

~o~

Told you, didn't I? Harry, thank you so much for participating in Fantasy Friday and sharing your talents with us. And please don't stop. This is a talent you should explore more and more. And if anyone else would like to try their hand a little writing, I'll be happy to host you. Send any stories to elisspeaks@yahoo.com

The TTWD highway

If you’ve read here long you know that our journey down the TTWD highway has not been a straight shot, to put it mildly. I think most of us who have ever tried it have experienced the unexpected curves, the bumpy stretches and sometimes being forced to a dead stop, waiting for some obstacle to be cleared. Nick and I have had our shares of each of these.

I hardly ever post on topic anymore. Mostly that’s because there hasn’t been a lot going on along those lines. And neither of us is to blame – or both we both are, take your pick. We talked about it this past weekend. It wasn’t a very good talk. I think it left us both feeling a little down. Me especially because Nick began in a fairly happy, up-beat mood, but I just couldn’t get there and that brought him down too. So I not only felt bad, but a little guilty too for not just going along.

I’m truly poor at these verbal conversations – so I finally sat down and emailed him, but I never got around to hitting send. Yesterday morning I woke up to an email from him. He acknowledged some of his problem with TTWD and pointed out some of mine. He was pretty accurate. Unless he asks me not to I plan to share parts of these emails here because I really believe many people can relate.

But since I’d already written mine and I had his in front of me I’ll tell you what I was most happy about. We’d both ended our emails in nearly the same way.  We were both a little unsure on exactly the best way to move forward, but we did want to move forward and do any and everything we could to make our marriage even better. Now, if both of us want that it doesn’t really matter how many curves, bumps or roadblocks we come up against, the journey continues.

Two things to note:

First, we have an excellent, brand new Fantasy Friday this week. Don’t forget to come by. 

The second thing is that Cassie posted yesterday and she has another post for Thursday so please come by if you have time. If you’ve dropped Cassie’s Space from your blog roll or if you never added her I hope you will. Thanks guys.

A meme for all

Sunny you know I can't resist one of these. I think it originally came from Lindy so thanks to you too!

1.  Name something people hate to find on their windshield?  

Little kitty paw prints. 

2. Name something a man might buy before going on a date? 

Condoms

3. Name something you cook in the microwave? 

I cook nearly everything in the microwave.

4. Name an item found in an old man's wallet? 

Old pictures of his kids.

5. Something always stocked in the fridge? 

In our, Sundrop - and I can't even drink it anymore. 

6. Name an item found in a Grandma's purse? 

Mints

7. Sport where you might lose a tooth?  

Rugby

8. Name a fruit that isn't round?

Pear 

9. Name something you put on a Christmas tree?

Homemade Christmas ornaments from the past.

10. Name five people that you think will do this?  

They’ve all been mentioned now and I’m enjoying reading them.

Wake up call

My thanks to everyone who stopped by for this 13th LOL Day - rule breakers and quiet friends alike. I hope you'll all keep coming back.

We had a bit of excitement last week. Not the good kind, but still it could have been so much worse. One of my favorite things about retirement is sleeping until I wake up. That’s usually around 7:30 in the morning but it just depends on when daylight and I decide to meet. 

The other morning I woke slowly thinking I might have heard something. I raised my head – getting my good ear to listen, nothing. I snuggled back down. A bit later I thought I heard something like faint knocking – but sometimes the cats make that noise if they’re sitting by the wall if they scratch. But I still raised my head to look down the hall when I saw that both the cats were in bed with me and also looking down the hall.

Ok, adrenalin pumping. I sleep in the nude and I’m trying to find something to throw on. In the living room I look through the front glass – no car in the drive and no one in sight. I go to the side door and look carefully. No one there. It’s raining and sleeting, who would be out knocking on my door in this. Then the doorbell rings. I head back to the front door there’s a young man standing in the rain saying, “I’m so sorry. I must have hydroplaned. I knocked down your mailbox and your bush.” 

I’m standing there looking directly at our mailbox – in perfect shape. There is no vehicle in sight and I’m wondering what the hell is going on. I asked him if I should call the police and he said he already had. My mind is flying – did this kid just have a wreck in my yard or is he drunk and wandering around or is this an elaborate hoax to come in and rob me? I asked him if he was hurt and he said he wasn’t. By this time I could hear sirens approaching and as the police pulled up I headed out to see what had happened.

That's as close as you can come without taking out the corner of my house!

There had been a big boxwood at that corner. I’d kinda wanted it taken down and it’s gone for sure. I’m grateful he and his passenger weren’t hurt and I’m most grateful they didn’t hit the house. Our yard looks like hell, but that will heal. A few years ago we took down three huge trees from our front yard. I just looked again at the skid marks – I think if the trees had been there they could have been killed. Now I’m even happier that we took them down.

This was a real wake up. Will I start sleeping in pajamas or a gown? No. But I’ll keep a heavy robe close by!

Yep, I'm bugging you to say something again

I’m back for my thirteenth Love our Lurkers Day! I often wonder how our silent readers view this day. I'm guessing that many of you are saying one of three things to yourself.

1. “Geeze, can’t they leave us alone? I just want to read in peace. I’m not bothering them. Why do I have to say something?”

2.  “There is no way I can say anything. Everyone will know it’s me and I can’t let anyone know I read spanking blogs!”

3.  “I have absolutely nothing to add. I’m not spanked and don’t expect to be. I find it all very stimulating, but I don’t know what to say. I just want to read and think about it.”

When I first found blogs I was hesitant to comment due to a combination of  reasons two and three. I didn’t understand blogs or exactly how they worked but I was afraid ‘someone’ would find out. Since I wanted to comment I just set up a completely new email, told no one in my real life about it and commented away under the name Elis, later changed to PK, and I’m still going strong and no one I haven’t told myself has ever found out.

Those folks held back by the third reason are the very ones we’d love to hear from. Every single blogger among us was at this point sometime in the past. Every one. By commenting that first time we allowed ourselves to accept our desires and be proud of who we are. I was able to not only find my voice here, I gained the courage to use my voice in other aspects of my life. And all this came about because I took the step to talk to others like me.

I admit, I live for comments. They mean more to me than any of you know. I’ve been here for a dozen years. The idea of closing the blog plays in my mind more and more these days. But I’ve held on because I love the contact with others. I know my blog is rarely on topic, but I see by my stats that people are still coming by. Yet only a small fraction speak to me. 

IMPORTANT: I do my LOL Day differently than most. If you normally comment here, if we email often, if we’re friends on FB, if we talk on the phone occasionally or if we’ve met in person – please don’t comment today. Today is only for those who are usually silent. If you’ve never commented, if you only comment or email me two to three times a year, then I ask you to please say something today. If a public comment still worried you, email me at elisspeaks@yahoo.com

I wouldn’t have been here as long as I have if people couldn’t trust me with their emails.

The ball's in your court. I hope I get comments today. I’d love to hear from you and I’ll answer each one – a comment or an email. Thanks.

It's going to be up to you

Love our Lurkers day is coming soon - November 16 and 17. I just wanted everyone to know. Most of us bloggers are thinking of what we want to say. What can we say to let our silent readers know how welcomed and wanted they are and how much we would like to hear from you? I’m working on what I want to say – I hope you are.

A Beautiful Conclusion to Our Trip

I wanted to do one last post on our trip. These are some of my favorite pictures. This was at the end of our trip and finally Nick got to do something he'd had on his bucket list for a long time. It was NOT on my bucket list. But we're a team and so I was right there with him.

We left the Grand Canyon traveling again through some empty lands, prompting Nick to comment, " We've driven over five miles and we haven't passed a Dollar General, a Wal-Mart, a McDonalds or a tattoo parlor." Something we could never say at home.

But we kept going and eventually reached civilization again. So want did we do that Nick had wanted to do for so long? I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.

Yes we did go up, up and away in a beautiful balloon!

And we loved it!

You have to read this because I want your opinion

I don’t talk politics on my blog – but sexual fantasies, now that's a different story! When I read this particular article (NOT involving arguing over political issues) I knew I had to share it here.  It was about the differences in the sexual fantasies of Republicans and Democrats and why. I was fascinated.

Here are the basic differences as stated in the article:

While self-identified Republicans and self-identified Democrats reported fantasizing with the same average frequency—several times per week—I found that Republicans were more likely than Democrats to fantasize about a range of activities that involve sex outside of marriage. Think things like infidelity, orgies and partner swapping, from 1970s-style “key parties” to modern-day forms of swinging. Republicans also reported more fantasies with voyeuristic themes, including visiting strip clubs and practicing something known as “cuckolding,” which involves watching one’s partner have sex with someone else.

By contrast self-identifying Democrats were more likely than Republicans to fantasize about almost the entire spectrum of BDSM activities, from bondage to spanking to dominance-submissive play. The largest Democrat-Republican divide on the BDSM spectrum was masochism, which involved deriving pleasure from the experience of pain.

Well that got my attention! I was also very interested in the possible reasons given in the article:

What connects Republicans and Democrats, I believe, is that their fantasies are at least partly driven by what they can’t have. As I argue in  Tell Me What You Want, the supersized sexual appeal that non-monogamous and voyeuristic acts hold for Republicans likely stems from the fact that sex outside of marriage and multi-partner sex are huge no-nos in a political party that continues to make “traditional marriage” one of the cornerstones of its official platform and regularly funnels federal funds toward abstinence-only sex education. Nothing makes us want to try something like being told you can’t do it. This is why taboos, no matter what they are , often becomes turn-ons.

This same instinct may also help to explain, in part, the appeal of BDSM to Democrats. Within the Democratic Party, much of what drives the Democratic Party, much of what drives the political agenda is the view that inequality is the source of a wide range of social problems. This is regularly seen in the party platform, which recently made multiple mentions of the need to “level the playing field.” It’s not a stretch, then, to suggest that playing with power differentials  - especially in BDSM settings, where women and men might not appear to be on equal footing and where the lines of sexual consent might not always be explicit – is taboo in many Democratic circles.

Like I said I found this very interesting. I was just curious as to what you guys might think of this. You can go here to read the whole article.

Quick update

 My little grand pup last spring

And then yesterday!

Sweetest dog ever!

Cassie's First Halloween

Happy Halloween! I hope you enjoy this Cassie story of their very first Halloween together! Hope everyone gets lots of candy tonight.

First Halloween

The river is so beautiful this time of year. What could be better than October?  It’s a beautiful month that builds up to Halloween. It’s been such fun since we moved to the river. The adults dress up to give out the candy. It’s like one long neighborhood party that ends with a bonfire on the riverbank.

As Tom and I discussed our costumes for this year, I casually remarked, “It’s a shame I can’t quite get into the costume I wore the first Halloween we were together.” I laughed as I saw the peeved look come over Tom’s face. Gracious, that was more than forty years ago. The man needs to learn to let things go.

I know people nowadays see us as a sweet old couple. And I suppose we are, but when we first met, I would have been called a wild-child. I lived a lifestyle that would have no doubt killed me young. Tom was my hero. He rode in and rescued me from my wild and dangerous ways and made me feel safe enough for the lady in me to come out. That doesn’t mean it was smooth sailing from the beginning.

That first Halloween we had been married just over a month. We were in the process of moving to a new house and had joined a club in town. That year the club was hosting a big Halloween Ball. Sue, my best friend, and I had been looking forward to going. Tom planned on going as ‘The Phantom.’ His only concession for his

costume was to wear an old style tux with his half mask. My dress was a gorgeous period piece, Victorian and elegant. I felt like a queen. Sue and Steve were going as Martha and George and while the Washingtons looked quite elegant, I secretly like our outfits much better.

Then out of the blue, Tom breezes in on October twenty-ninth with devastating news. “Girl, I’m sorry as can be, but Steve and I have to go to Washington for a few days.”

“What? When?” I stammered.

“We have to catch a plane in about two hours.”

Oh, I was hot and I let him have it. I knew he had to travel for work sometimes, but this was the first time since our marriage and I felt angry and abandoned.

“Tom, what about the ball? Will you be back in time? Surely, you’re not going to miss that.”

“It can’t be helped, honey. We’ll be there until November second. But I promise I’ll make it up to you when I get back. We’ll go somewhere just the two of us for a long weekend. You and Sue can go to the ball together. You’ll still be the two prettiest girls there.”

“Sure,” I snapped pulling away from him. “Maybe I should go as George. I don’t know why your damn job should be more important than plans we’ve already made.”

“Enough,” Tom told me seriously. “Another word and you’ll have trouble sitting while I’m gone. I am sorry about the ball, but there’s nothing I can do.” Relenting a little as he saw my woebegone face, he added, “I love you, girl. I don’t want to fight with you. Please try to understand.”

I tried, but I wasn’t doing a very good job. 

“I have to go,” he told me. “Don’t fall into a temper and get yourself in trouble. Just behave and I’ll be back before you know it.” And with another kiss and a hug he was gone.

As he’d been packing I’d only been angry about the ball. As the silence of the house closed around me, so did the intense loneliness and that began to fuel my anger. I didn’t know how to process sadness or loneliness back then, but anger was an old friend.

The phone jangled and I rushed to answer it. “Were you fed the same sorry bullshit I just got?” Sue demanded.

“I sure as hell was.” I answered. “I’m so pissed about the ball.”

“You’re pissed – try going as half a Washington!” she yelled.

“Wait a minute,” I told her, as a sudden thought came into my head. “You don’t have to be Martha if you don’t want to be. We can dress anyway we want to now.”

Sue was quiet for a moment as what I was saying sank in. Then I could hear the grin in her voice. “I like the way you think,” she told me.

“I’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes.” I laughed. “We have some shopping to do.”

~o~

As the night of the ball rolled around I was absolutely gleeful. I wasn’t far past my ‘I’ll do anything I damn well please’ phase of my life and I was feeling that way again. Sue had come over to dress at my house and we were almost ready. 

My outfit was perfect. I had purchased a beautiful red wig that fell in a mass of curls down my back. The white halter top tied right under my breasts. The tightness of the little shirt gave me the cleavage I was well known for back in the day. The thin material allowed the dusty rose of my nipples to show clearly. I didn’t mind a bit.

My midriff was darkly tanned from the hours I’d spend in the sun. My shiny leather mini skirt began below my navel and ended at a length barely covering enough to be legal. This wasn’t many years after the networks had had a fit when Barbara Eden wanted to show her belly button on I Dream of Jennie, but I didn’t have the network to censure me and Tom was evidently too busy working to care what I wore. Fishnet stockings and high platform heels completed my outfit. Sue looked stunning as a blonde in an equally inappropriate whores’r us outfit of her own. We were ready for a night of partying. 

We each had an elaborately decorated eye mask and I’d outlined my mouth so differently that Sue swore I was unrecognizable. I know she was. While I wanted to go and have a good time, I did not want the new look getting back to Tom. We may not have been married long, but I knew enough to know he’d have a stroke if he knew I’d gone out in public dressed basically as a ‘working girl’.

Oh my, we were the hit of the ball! We only had to present the token – which had arrived in the invitation, so no one would know the identity of each guest. The crowd actually parted as Sue and I came in. I admit to being an attention whore and I loved every bit of the stares and whispers.

I had a drink in my hand all night and neither of us lacked for dancing partners, although I could almost feel the hateful stares coming from nearly every woman there. I was truly in my element when I looked across the room in time to catch Tom’s entrance. He wore the vintage tux, but not his mask. I panicked as he scanned the room. I couldn’t move. I was suddenly terrified of calling attention to myself. 

Tom didn’t spot me on his first scan and I carefully began edging toward the back entrance. I had to make it to our car and have the driver get me the hell out of there. I was in the hall and nearly to the exit when I heard Tom behind me.

“Cassie?”

“Moi, no.” I said in a low husky voice.

“Oui, vous,” Tom snapped.

“Tom, honey, it was a joke. That’s all.” Tom could have been deaf for all he was listening to me.

Taking my wrist, rather than my hand, he led me quickly out the door and across the lawn toward his car. He moved so quickly I could barely keep up. “Tom slow down,” I begged. These shoes . . .”

Without saying a word Tom stopped, quickly knelt and removed my shoes. In one angry gesture he threw them into the club’s pond,  as it shimmered in the moonlight. 

I was silent on the trip home. We’d been married such a short time, I actually expected a screaming match once we arrived and while I wasn’t looking forward to it, I had no doubt I could hold my own. It hadn’t truly sunk into my brain that Tom was not one to yell at his wife. He was a man of action.

Leading me straight to the bedroom, Tom quickly removed my mask and wig, tossing them onto a chair. Then with lightning speed he had my blouse, mini-skirt, garter with the fishnet and my panties off. This was my first experience of being nude while he was still wearing a tux and I’d never felt so vulnerable.

Tom sat on the bed and was in the process of pulling me across his lap before it dawned on my incredibly slow brain that I was about to be spanked. 

“NO! Wai . . .” I started, as I tried to fight my way off his lap. I never had a chance. Tom hadn’t begun using the ivory brush yet, but that mattered little. As his hand made contact with my bare rear, I yelled bloody murder. I hated being spanked back then. The pain, the loss of control – I fought with everything I had, including my vocabulary. I have to tell you, back then I could cuss more fluently than I could speak the King’s English. I cussed the man for everything I was worth.

Tom’s hand has always been hard as a board when he spanks. He wasn’t moving around much as he proceeded to nearly blister the crease between bottom and leg. My fighting, yelling and cussing were wearing me out – Tom did not seem to be tiring. 

As I quieted for a minute, trying to get my breath, Tom said calmly, “As soon as you’ve finished cussing, this spanking can begin.”

“Tom, dammit! Stop . . .”

“I’m guessing I can outlast you, girl,” he told me firmly. “I’d stop now if I were you.”

He was right. With supreme effort, I choked back what I wanted to say. As I tried to stay quiet Tom began to talk. Unfortunately, talking didn’t slow Tom’s hand one bit. “You had a beautiful dress to wear tonight. Thinking of you in it made me fly back just to take you to the ball, but instead you go out of your way to be seen in the worst possible way.

“When are you going to understand you are a lady? I expect you to always speak and present yourself as a lady so you’ll always be treated as one.”

I was hearing a little of this, very little, and it was probably years down the road before I truly understood what Tom was trying to say to me. Tom was slowing his spanks, yet each was still firmly delivered and I alternated howling and begging him to stop.

When he finally did, I was a mess. Tom stood me up and held me against him. “It’s all right, girl. You’re going to be all right.” After a moment he helped me onto the bed and he the stepped into the bathroom, returning with a cool cloth for my face and lotion for my bottom. After applying it gently, he lay beside me holding me. 

“This is hard for you isn’t it, girl?”

I nodded.

“You knew I wouldn’t want my wife wearing such an outfit in public didn’t you?”

Again, I nodded.

“Cassie girl, don’t fight me. Trust me, let me take care of you and protect you. I want to give you the most amazing life – you just need to trust me.”

I’m still amazed by how true his words were, then and now. And he has indeed, given me a most amazing life.