Monday, August 25, 2014

Stubborn as a muse

There would be no lunch today after all...

I cherish our long days together, hours of spanking followed by a meal shared by two people who genuinely enjoy each other's company. From our very first coffee, our conversations have been effortless...the chemistry at the table foreshadowing that behind closed doors. But today, my long day was no longer long, and it no longer felt like mine, and I was devastated. He hugged me and apologized and I stood limp in his arms, wanting so badly to snap out of my mood. Instead, I found myself spiraling into a much darker space and suddenly I was angry. He asked me to help him by being understanding, communicating to me how difficult it was for him as well. I tried to shake off the feeling but simply couldn't. My arms stayed crossed as I laid across his lap, occasionally resting my chin on a closed fist. His swats were met without any reaction, and the louder his hands shouted, the more it fed my stubbornness. He leaned his head towards mine, normally my cue to turn my head, my lips straining to meet his. Instead, my eyes looked straight forward. He kissed the back of my head anyways, and whispered, "It looks like we still have a long way to go until you remember how loved you are." I refused to be swayed by such words. I looked straight forward and he continued to spank me, harder than he ever has before. With every pause, I could feel the heat that was rising to the surface of my bottom... that warm, familiar glow could not seduce me today, though I was aware of the power I could so easily give into. He stood me up, and dragged a chair next to me, its legs protesting, catching on the rug. My stomach dropped as I anticipated getting over the chair... one of my least favorite positions. Instead, he had me lean over, hands on the seat. I waited there as I heard him unroll the bag of canes we have collected over the last year. With no mercy shown on his part, he picked out the thinnest of the canes- it leaves the most perfect cane marks, but at a stinging price. I felt nothing as I refused to enjoy any sensation as well as giving him the satisfaction of seeing me squirm. I cannot remember a time he took a bigger backstroke, nor can I remember a time when I challenged each and every stroke.