Spanking Day

I've looked forward to this day all week. I always do. Most people hate Mondays, but not me. Monday is Spanking day. A day that I spend naked, nothing more than an object of beauty and sexuality. I am no longer a professional, nor do I have the worries of today's worlds. I am free of all work, all stress, all concerns. I am beauty and I simply have one decision to make - yes or no. I choose yes.

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.

27 years

Our Golden anniversary is upon us. We will have been married 27 years on the 27th of this month. To celebrate, he has stated that the number will be repeated. For the next 27 days I will be required to remain nude or wear only an apron or approved clothing while in the house. When we go out together, he will either choose or approve my clothing.

 I will be spanked at least 27 times each day.
I will have my nipples clamped for at least 27 minutes each day.
He will fuck me and cum on or in me for the next 27 days.
I will wear a plug of his choosing for a minimum of 27 minutes each day.
He will fuck me any time, any where, for as long as he chooses during the next 27 days.
He will share me as he wishes for the next 27 days.
I will behave with respect and obedience for the next 27 days.
My bottom will be red for 27 days.
My pussy sore, my nipples tender for 27 days.
My asshole will be used in some manner for 27 days.
My mouth with be fucked for 27 days.

Is it disobedient for me to hope that after 27 days, He will still use me as such?

Because I want to

Because I want to see your body, you will remain unclothed.
Because I want your ass red, I will make it so.
Because your tears excite me, I will make it hurt.
Because you are mind, I will use you as I like.
Because I want to, I will fuck you in every way possible.
Because I want to, I will own your orgasms.

Because I am your master, I will see to your every need.

In The End

Sarah bend over the kitchen chair and grasped the seat. The back bit into her soft stomach. Husband had flipped her skit up, exposing her bar bottom. While in the house, she was prohibited the wearing of underwear. She bit her lip, waiting. She had done nothing wrong, had not disobeyed, had not broken any rules. This pleased her. Yes, Pain was in her immediate future, but that did not concern her. Her only concern was pleasing Husband. And this she would do. As first, she felt only coolness, the the coolness morphed into warmth, then heat, then an almost unbearable fire. She had been chopping raw ginger to add a lovely spice to Husband's butternut squash soup when he had decided to a bit of spice to her. He had told her to cut off a large finger of ginger and peel it. Then he had instructed her to cut tiny slits into the sides of the finger. Now, he inserted it into her anus. She moaned and wiggled and cried a bit. This pleased him which, in turn, pleased her. Then, he began his work. Using her wooden spoon, he began to spank her. First one cheek, then the next. Again. Again. Again. Only when she was sobbing in earnest did he stop. Sarah let go of the chair, dropped to her knees and kissed his crotch.

"Go ahead."

Grateful, she unzipped his jeans and began to kiss and suckle his penis. She looked up at him, knowing he liked this, her eyes shining with tears, her ass red as fire. He fucked her mouth. She welcomed him. Finally, he shot his sweet, sweet cream down her throat. She continued to lick him, gently, cleaning him. He helped her to stand and removed the fig.

"Finish cooking now, wife. After dinner, I'm going to fuck your ass. Hard. Until I cum."

Smiling, she took up her spoon and stirred the soup.