“To think of him in the middle of the day lifts me out of ordinary living.”
— Anaïs Nin (The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1)
i am at lunch, eating in my office today, trying to catch up on paperwork. Suddenly, i remember the feel of His hand on my nipple. The left nipple, crushed between His thumb and forefinger. Instantly, the memory tugs on the line that runs directly from my nipple to my pussy, and i feel heat between my legs.
i’m lying on the bed, on my stomach, stinging blows from the famous yardstick landing on my ass. He’s careful to strike the “sit spot” more than once.
Shifting from memory into fantasy, i’m on the spanking bench in His dungeon.
Remember the spanking bench?
Blindfolded again. Ass raised a little, exposed and vulnerable. “What is this?” He asks; i hear something whistle slightly, it lands with a sharp sting. “O!”
“i don’t know,” i say, “i don’t know that one!”
“Yes, you do,” He says. “Here, let’s try it again,” and He does – “O!” but-
“i don’t! i don’t know that one.”
“Ok. It’s the quirt,” He says. “Quirt. Say it.”
And i do, even though the word doesn’t want to leave my lips, i say it. “Quirt.”
and He says, “Good. How many?”
“i don’t know!”
He rubs my ass, caresses it, “Breathe,” He says, “Uh huh, that’s it, good girl. Breathe.” And when my breathing has calmed, He says, “Ok. Now.” Patiently, “How many do you think it’ll take for you to be able to recognize the quirt next time?”
A huge wave of pleasure runs through me, sitting there in my office, in front of my computer. Am i going to have to – you know, take care of myself? Right here?
Back on the spanking bench –
“Five,” i say, reluctantly. “Five, Sir, please.”
And He is still stroking my ass, and then He isn’t and – “Oh!! One. The Quirt, Sir,” i say. Five times i feel the sting and say it,
“Two. The Quirt, Sir.”
“Three. The Quirt, Sir.”
i’m getting wetter, squirming in my chair. Fast forwarding the fantasy a little.
“Good girl.” He says. “Do you think you’ll recognize the quirt next time I ask you?”
“Yes, sir, i’m sure i will,” i say. my ass is hot, i can feel the heat, and my pussy is soooo wet and hot. The spanking bench is wet with my juices, i want to rub against it. Press my clit against it til i cum.
“Do you want the Hitachi now?” He asks. “Or should we try one more recognition task?”
i smile a little, “Well, of course i want the Hitachi, Sir,” i say. “But if it would please You to try another one, then of course i want to do that.”
“Good girl,” He says. Another shiver runs through me. “Let me think. Let’s -”
My phone rings. What? Someone at the front desk, the receptionist not sure what to tell them, can i come up there? Sure, yes, sure, on my way…
And i park the fantasy, not sure what He’s going to decide. Is the Hitachi waiting for me, or the paddle? Only time will tell…
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Yes, this is similar to nilla’s post the other day, with my own twists. i was amazed that she’d given words to a scenario very similar to a fantasy of my own – one i’d had since long before i even knew what anything other than a hand felt like on my ass. More of what Mick calls Smut-ergy.
As you can see, i’m apparently over my subdrop. Sir D was very sweet yesterday, i got a text message while i was still at work, an e-mail when i got home, and then we talked last night. i also have adventures to look forward to. Have i mentioned that my Sir is very sweet? <smiles>
And i just realized – having gotten myself all stirred up writing this post – that if i’m going to see Him on Saturday, then today is two days before Saturday. Just last weekend, i agreed that two days is not too long to go without an orgasm before i see Him. What was i thinking? That was a lot easier to say when i’d just had a multitude of orgasms.
Thank goodness, i took care of myself last night.