Monday Night Release

I truly hate Mondays. I'm a stay at home mom who loves having a houseful of kids, noise and rukus. On Mondays, though, everyone is gone and I'm left in a quiet house. Oh, I have my chores to complete, which is the only thing that keeps me off the couch! I decide on the week's meals, do the shopping, clean the bathrooms and kitchen. By then, it's time to start on dinner for the family - Husband and the four kids. Everyone helps clean up and then it's time for homework. Once the kids are in their beds (second floor) Husband and I go to our room (basement floor). Once there, if I have completed my Monday chores to both of our satisfactions, I am rewarded. Truly, THIS is what keeps my depression at bay. THIS is why I stay off the couch and keep the television turned off. THIS is what assures me that I'll make it through four more days of quietness.

This is my Monday Night Release.

Good Girl

I came home from work late, pissy and tense. Jack threw together dinner so I could relax and sip a glass of wine, but I still bitched, telling how to cook. For heaven's sake, it was only grilled cheese and tomato soup so I really was just bitching to be bitching. I grumbled through dinner and dishes. Finally, he'd had enough. He told me take off my slacks and I gave him lip. about it. Now, he was really finished dealing with me. He did the ONE thing I hate. He took me out to the balcony of our condo and told me to take off my pants. Right then. No more complaints or He'd do it for me which meant he'd tie my hands to the railing and cut them off. I knew this. I had agreed to this. Sometimes, I'm stubborn (duh!) and in my calmer moments can acknowledge this aspect of my personality and make allowances for it. I know he'd follow through because he did once before. Afterwards, not only was my bottom redder than fire, but my new slacks in shreds and I was shamefaced for having disobeyed, bitched and punished outside where, while unlikely but still possible, the neighbors could have witnessed my paddling. 

So, at this point I relented and dropped my dress slacks. He told me how disappointed he was in me. That it was perfectly fine to come one and need to vent but it was not fine to take out my frustrations on him. At this point, I saw what I had done and knew he was right so I agreed with him. I deserved this punishment and vowed to take it like a good girl. He told me to hold on to the railing and I did. He had grabbed the wooden paddle, the one he uses only when I've truly annoyed him. I understood then that I would receive no pleasure from this spanking, not during, not after. I asked what my count was and he said: Until I decide you've had enough.

I also knew what this meant. Meekly, I agreed to this as well. He would spank me until the tension left my body, until I cried. And so he began. I clenched my hands around the metal railing, biting my lip to keep from crying out. The sound of the wood smacking against my bottom and upper thighs was quite loud enough. I was terrified that the neighbors would hear and come out to investigate. Luckily, it was dark and Jack had turned the lights off so it would be difficult for them to see even if they did take a peek. He plasters both cheeks, the sit spot, the upper thighs. Finally, I let go. I slump forward, my body relaxing, tears flowing freely. I hold my emotions tight most of the time, but every so often, I NEED to cry. To release all the tension and wash away the stress of the day, the week. Jack knows this and watches my body carefully. He pushes me, yes, but only when I need to be pushed. He punishes me, yes, but only so far as my consent and need allow. 

He sees the change in me and stops, rubs my bottom and murmurs to me, soothing me now with his words. He tells me that he's proud of me, that he loves me. He tells me that I'm again his Good Girl. 

Fellatio in the Morning

I know exactly where my "happy" place is. Here, between your legs. Each morning as you enjoy your coffee and look out the kitchen window I kneel before you. I have no need for coffee or any other traditional morning beverage. You provide me with what I need. First, I attend to your balls, kissing each, licking, letting their weight sit on my lips. I suck each ball and watch as your cock fills with blood and stands tall. No words are spoken; there is no need. I am at peace and your body is coming alive to meet the day. You place one hand on my head and I move up to take your cock into my mouth. I know what you like. I keep my lips tight around your shaft, my hands cradling your balls, and I suck deeply, my tongue teasing your head. I go down, press my lips against your base then back up. You grasp my hair tightly and I sigh, knowing I'm pleasing you.I hear you set your coffee mug on the counter and I move faster, my hands massaging your hot jewels. My tongue traces the vein, the ridge of your head and I feel you shudder. Then, I know. I push down until I almost gag, your head against the back of my throat. I hear you groan and hold me in place, your hips pumping as my morning beverage shoots down my throat. When you finish, I sit back on my heels, satisfied, complete. I look up at you and smile. This is my Happy Place

He Warned Me.

He warned me. He did. Not once but three times. I chose to ignore his warnings and, instead, teased and flirted and mouthed off. I even dared him to carry through with his warning. And now, here I am. Cuffed to the balcony railing. Waiting. I never thought he'd go through with it, but he is. The doorbell just rang and I can here Joe, Dan and him talking. I keep my eyes closed because it's bad enough that they can see me, I don't want to see them. HE is explaining the situation to them. Telling them of my disobedience, my mouthy brattiness. He knows I can hear every word because he raises his voice just a bit and orders me to open my eyes and look at him. Reluctantly, I do so. And there they are. Three sets of eyes staring up at me. I start to cry and my tears drip on the floor beneath me, close to their shoes. This isn't the first time He has used others in my punishments, and it won't be the last. He knows I hate it, but he also knows it's effective. Joe, the quiet one, stands silently staring up at me and says, "Let's get to it." Dan, one of the strictest Doms I've ever met, grins at me, slaps HIM on the shoulder and asks, "How long?" I hold my breath.
 "Ten minutes," HE answers. I breathe more easily. Ten minutes. I can handle ten minutes of spankings.
 "Each of us."

 Oh my God.
"I'll go first, then Joe and Dan, if you will, you last."
Oh my God! After twenty minutes of punishment from both HIM and Joe, Dan, who knows exactly how to make me dance, will have ten minutes with my poor bottom?? I'm sobbing now, imagining not sitting for the next three days.
"One more thing, just to be sure she remembers her position. After our time is up, I want her fucked. Either hole is fine. Just fuck her hard and cum over her ass. She needs to learn that I will do with her body as I want to, when I want to and how I want to."

He looked up at me, grinned and said, "You need this, don't you my love."
I gulped. Here is where he's asking permission to go through with it. Here is where I can say no and be released. Here, my punishment could end with simple humiliation and begging. Here is where I decided.
"Yes, Milord. I do need this."

The Lingerie Contract - When will I learn Part 4

Since my exposure out in the woods, I've behaved well. Mr. Mister has given me back my full wardrobe sans underclothing! He's thrown all of mine out - which, in truth, I don't mind. I have never really splurged on lingerie and generally buy cotton briefs and the cheapest bra possible. No more. For the next fortnight, if I do not misbehave, I will "earn" one complete lingerie set which he has purchased for me. Each set is matching and beautiful! I've seen them all.Corsets (which I've never worn before!) lace, satin, sexy, demure, garter belts, stockings, you name it! Each one a thing of beauty and just my size. I earned my first set yesterday.

On maintenance days - every Monday - if I accept his hand willingly and in a pleasing, submissive manner - I will earn a lovely, lovely nightgown. He's shown me the first 'reward'. It looks like it's straight out of a 1940's movie! Satin, flowing, white. So, today I plan to be ready for his homecoming. Dinner is in the crockpot, a fresh pie is cooling on the counter, the house is cleaned and I am ready and waiting for his authority. I really thought I'd be resentful of his control, but I'm not. All through the day I've hummed and smiled for no reason. Guess what. There is a reason- I'm happy!  I look forward to my rewards, but more, I look forward to the warm look in his eyes when I've pleased him. I look forward to seeing his cock rise at the site of me. I look forward to serving him and feeling that rush of pride and love. I look forward to all of this more than the tangible rewards.

So here I'm wait. kneeling, nude, ready to please him. No resentment, no anger. Just anticipation and respect. I think, I've finally learned.

When will I learn - part 3:Public Chastisement

So, I've earned back one dress and one pair of shoes. The weather has warmed up quite a bit, so I can again go outside! yay! So, Mr. Mister suggests we go for a walk in the woods behind the house. I quickly agree, even though I'm still a bit nervous. After all, I'm only wearing a sleeveless light blue dress and a pair of tennis shoes. Naturally, he notices this nervousness and tells me that if I really don't want to go, I don't have to. He had not given an order, just a suggestion. Hearing this, I'm relieved and readily place my hand in his and off we go. After all, the day is warm and sunny and the woods are fairly private. I've only seen one other guy walking there in the two years that we've lived here.
So, there we were. holding hands, walking, talking, laughing. A normal happy couple. Then, he turns to me and tells me how proud he is of how well I've accepted the last few days and asks if I'm sure I want to continue with him as the head of our household. I think for a while. Do I really what to continue? He is, unlike in the past, sticking to the plan and making me submit to his will. If I have to be honest, and I think I should, I'm quite proud of him as well. He's become more confident and my respect for him as my Man has grown because he didn't let me get by with breaking a rule we both agreed to. So, I tell him this. He kisses me and says he has a choice for me. I can continue as we have been - earning a piece of clothing back each day of good behavior - or I can earn my entire wardrobe back this afternoon. He won't tell me what the afternoon will entail, just that once I make the decision, he will abide by it - and so will I. What can I say? I want my clothes back.
He tells me to kneel and I do so. I glance around, checking for anyone else, and he grabs my face gently between his hands. He tells me if I want to earn back my clothes, I will do what he says, when he says with no hesitation. He speaks calmly and confidently and I nod. He unzips his jeans and I open my mouth, ready to take him in. I suck, lick, kiss, savor him. I worship his cock, loosening my throat so that I can take him deeply. Then, I hear a twig snap behind me. Without thinking, I turn my head to see if anyone is watching. MISTAKE.
He sighs, turns my head around to him again and tells me to keep my eyes on him. He jacks himself off, spraying his hot seed across my face. I open my mouth, wanting to taste him, but he holds me steady. I understand that this was not at all for my pleasure, but for my chastisement. Then, he tells me that his intent was to have me worship his cock and then walk me back home, but since I disobeyed - again - it has become obvious that I still need to learn that he is in charge. He stands me up and presses my back against a tree. Taking my hands, he secures them behind the tree, effectively making me captive. His cum is drying on my face and I'm starting to cry. Why the hell couldn't I trust him enough to protect me? When will I learn that I have given him the right to expect obedience from me? Then, he reaches into the neckline of my dress and pulls out one breast, exposing my skin to the cool air.
 I hear another snap, but I keep my head bowed. Mr. Mister, however, steps away from me and offers a greeting to whoever has walked near, probably on the hiking trail about 10 feet to the left. I hear another male voice and then Mr. Mister laughs. He comes back to me and I hear footsteps going away from us.
"Julia, you're being very good. I'm happy you stayed quiet and still. For the record, that was my friend, George. I asked him to walk by here but to stay on the path. He couldn't see you, love. You were safe, but I needed to test your obedience."
So, here I stand, exposed, my face sticky with dried tears and cum, waiting until Mr. Mister releases me from this tree. I'm rather proud of myself for having passed his test and feel really good about our relationship. How good? Good enough to make sure he feels appreciated as soon as He allows me to.

His Night

I sucked in my breath, feeling a lot like Scarlet O'Hara.  The boning pressed against my skin, tight and restrictive, but I feel beautiful. Tonight, I will be elegant and graceful and I will have no doubt in my mind that I belong to him. He tells me to stand still. Once more he tightens the laces. I feel him tie them in place, securing my posture. He lifts the dress I spent hours selecting and places it over my head. He zips me into it and I spin, a bit lightheaded - whether from the shallow breathes, the tight lacing encasing my ribs, the stripped bottom, the metal plug in my anus or the excitement of being present on His arm at tonight's dinner - I'm not sure.

Five hours ago I began the process of preparing for tonight. He left a list of instructions, which I followed. I gave myself an enema - which I hate doing, but it is far better to self administer rather than submit to the humiliation of him administer it. I plugged myself then showered, shaved, and oiled my body. By this time, I was cramping and, glancing at the clock, was relieved to see that I could now eliminate. He insisted that I be totally cleaned - inside and out.

I stood in front of the bed, my wrists and ankles bound to the posts. He inspected me, tweezing out any hair I had missed. Luckily, he found few. For each one he found, I would be punished with five strikes of his hand, the flogger, the cane, his belt. His choice, naturally. Four hairs he found. Five strikes with each implement. He ran his fingers down my slit, laughed when he felt the wetness. He dipped into my pussy, one finger, two, three, four. I moaned as he used his finger to fuck me slowly. I came within moments.

He released my wrists and pushed me onto the bed, my ankles still bound. Using his wet fingers, he probed my anus. One finger, two. I winced and he scissored his fingers, opening me. I relaxed against him, wanting more. He added a third and pushed into me, his other hand pinching my nipples just hard enough to send electricity to my clit. I came again. In the midst of this, he let go of my breast and grabbed the plug. A rather large, egg shaped stainless steel device set with a lovely stone at the base. He pushed it inside of me - hard and fast. I gasped at the pain, but before I could pull away, his cock was in me. I expected fast and hard, but he gave me softness, gentleness, seeing to my pleasure before his own. This mixture of harsh discipline and gentle loving confused my senses and I felt myself floating in a beautiful mist. I came again and so did he.

Now, my arm is looped through his, his corset hugging my body, his cum dripping down my thighs, his plug stretching my ass, his marks burning my cheeks and upper thighs. He walks me out into the night, the cool breeze ruffling my hair. Tonight, I am his in every sense of the word and I couldn't be prouder.

Throwback Thursday

She is beautiful, bent before me, waiting, her pantaloons spread, her hands holding her cheeks open. Waiting. Waiting for what she knows is coming. I make her wait. Make her think, wonder, moisten. I place the ginger within her sight line and she whimpers a bit. Still, I do nothing more. She will not move, this I know. Once she stood upright while waiting for her discipline. 20 strokes of the cane she endured that night. Plus the fig. Plus a plug inserted until the next morning. Only then did I fuck her. And then it was in her sore and tender ass. Every day for a week. But that had been when she first came to me. No, she will not move  now. Nor do I. I sit behind her, enjoying the sight, enjoying my scotch. I see the glistening evidence of her excitement and can't stop the smile from spreading across my cheeks. She is breathing deeply, placing her mind in a place of submission. This pleases me. 

I stand and begin. First, with my hand. I warm her skin with firm spanks. She flinches, but maintains her position, her eyes focused on the fig. She moans a bit, a cry sometimes escapes her lips, but she does not move position. I can stand back and view her pinked skin and decide she is ready. I take her hands and place then on the table next to her face. I kiss her neck. Then, I unhook my belt. She hears this and I see her tremble a bit. Good. I like her slight fear of the unknown. I snap my belt and, to her credit, she moves not. 

Now it begins. A good woman knows her place and it is beneath her husband's hand, beneath his body, a vessel for his pleasure. I whip the belt across her backside once. She dances a bit and cries out, but her hands do not move. A good man knows how to handle his woman, how to love her, teach her, allows her to be herself, appreciates her intelligence and creativity. He must also do his duty and meet her needs. For Alicia, this includes physical discipline. If I neglect this need, she feels abandoned, alone, unloved. I can't allow that. Ten times the kiss of my leather marks her skin. Her hands are still in place but her eyes are now closed and tears have puddled on the wood beneath her face. I kiss her cheek and tell her I love her. She says nothing for she is forbidden the use of her voice now.

Finally, I take the prepared fig. She sees this and again moves her hands to spread her burning cheeks. I slowly insert the ginger into her anus and she gasps. My cock strains against my trousers. "Hands," I say and she places her hands back on the wood. She squirms now, silent tears puddling beneath her face. I resume my seat and slowly finish my drink. Really, there is no need to rush.

Accepting the Spanking.

I know the rules and I broke several of them. Willingly and knowingly. Which rules I broke do not matter. Now, it's time to face the piper. I know my job. I signed up for it. I signed a contract that would never hold up in court, yet it is still binding, at least in my mind and His. I am His. I am His personal librarian and code d'Odalisque. Yes, that's an old world term, which translates, more or less, into "pleasure slave." As His librarian, I have rules which must be followed and when they are not, I am punished which often involves pain, humiliate and then forgiveness. As His code d'Odalisque, my only "job" is to give Him pleasure, whatever His pleasure may be. This rarely involves actually pain or humiliation. If these are involved they always lead to pleasure. Tonight, though, I am to be punished. I understand and accept this. He would never punish me unless I did.

I am to be tied to His desk in the library. He will whip me first with his hand, then his belt. He will set the timer for ten minutes and whip me until the timer goes off. Then,  He will fuck me leaving me tied to the desk, his cum dripping out of me. He has told me all of this. This will be the pain. Then, will be the humiliation. He will invite a few of his friends over for drinks. They will talk, drink, and I will remain in place, spread open red assed, tears streaking my face, his cum drying on my thighs and pussy lips. He will offer them the use of any of my holes. They will be allowed to spank me as well. I am not to speak.  He will answer all questions, make all decisions. He has discussed this with me and I have agreed. I have a choice and I choose Him.

Brattiness receives no mercy

I HATE de-Christmasing the house! With a passion I hate it. I whine, complain and procrastinate. This year, Mark decided he'd had enough of my brattiness. Little did I know, but while we were working, he kept track of how many times I bitched. Now, it's time to pay up. Apparently, my mouth got feisty fifteen times. Yeah, that's a lot. No wonder he got tired of hearing my complain.

So fifteen is the magic number. Fifteen twigs he tied together while I watched, kneeling, naked and trembling. Fifteen times he switched my bare bottom, each blow stinging more that the previous. By number eight I was sobbing, begging for forgiveness, promising never to whine again. He said nothing, simply continued mercilessly. Then, he fucked me, not in my hot, wet pussy, but in my ass. He plunged in deeply, filling me completely. He came deep within my bowels. I cried out again, this time not with pain, but pleasure, squeezing the last drops from him. I love when he uses me, reminds me that I am his, blesses me with his essence. 

Have I learned my lesson - of course. Will I repeat my behaviour? Well now - that is always a possibility.