The day begins with a shower, shaving my legs, arms, cat. I lotion up with delightfully scented cream. Then, I go to the parlour. This room is only used on Mondays. It is my sanctuary. Heavy red velvet curtains cover the windows, a plush red carpet for my bare feet. A large winged leather chair for Him, a love seat, a liquor cabinet, a small table with two straight backed chairs, a chaise lounge. Inside the closet lie the toys he may choose to use. Once I enter, I am his. I eat what and when he tells me, I drink at his discretion, I use the restroom only when given permission. I make no decisions.
He is waiting for me, seated on one of the straight back chairs. He folds the paper he was reading and smiles at me. I smile in return. He turns his chair slightly and I position myself over his lap. He begins slowly, softly and I sigh. Really, this is more of a massage than a spanking. I do not think of what is to come, I focus on the pleasure of the moment. He increases his force, but not his speed. I feel a sting now and relax into his hand. My pussy is beginning to swell and my nipples are tightening. My hands are braced on the carpet. I will not remove them. If I do, that is his signal to stop. I curl my fingers into the plushness as he continues. His hand hard, unforgiving. My honey is flowing now and I am biting my lip, but I have yet to cry real tears. He knows this and will not stop until I do or if I lift my hands.
His hands cover my bottom, the tops of my thighs, the famous sit spot. I know not where the next blow will land but I am grateful for each one. My skin is on fire and my mind is floating. Pain and pleasure merge into peace. Tears cover my face and suddenly I am in his arms. He kisses my tears and holds me. He tells me that I am beautiful, I am perfect, I am his. I am at peace.