Surprise....

Beloved got home late last night, but not as late as I'd expected. He was home by 9:30 pm. His mom retired almost immediately. After having some supper, he asked if there was anything I wanted to get done before going upstairs....HA! There were dishes in the sink, toys all over the place, and since I'd spent most of the evening caring for his mom, nothing had gotten done....

Beloved was kind enough to help with the pick-up while I got everything into the dishwasher and set it to run. He then wrapped me in his arms and teased me about what it would take to get my clothes off so he could rub me down.

"Oh....that DOES sound nice..."
"Well, I've been trying to shoo you upstairs for the last twenty minutes."
"Is that why?!? I thought I was delaying a beating..."

At which Beloved just laughed. We went up and he told me to undress while he checked on Boy...who had spilled his bottle and needed to be washed, bed stripped....*sigh* Surely this meant missing out on that promised back rub... I nursed Boy back to sleep while Beloved took the laundry down.

Yes, I am aware that I am a spoiled girl...choices, help with chores...I'm very lucky that Beloved views a lot, especially parenting, as a team effort.

When I returned to the bedroom, Beloved was reading this, a smirk on his face. "Why don't you wash up, while I finish reading?" *hint, hint* right? Of course, he hadn't taken into account the fact that the washing machine was running so there was only luke-warm water... *pout* By the time I was done, I was chilled. He told me to get into bed, pulled the covers up, and then uncovered my feet.

Beloved denies a foot fetish, but he loves to chew on my feet. I can't say I hate it, but damn! it tickles and it is soooo hard to stay still so he doesn't nip too hard! Surviving the torture is almost always worth it, though...Beloved began to rub out my feet, digging into the arch and making me moan and gasp. He moved up my calves and thighs, and then told my I'd better turn over because he didn't have a whole lot left.

I tried to tell him what I'd gotten was wonderful, but he said that he really appreciated and understood how hard this week has been with his mom and his working late. He wanted to show me how much it meant to him. So, I turned over, and he started in on my shoulders and neck. HARD. DEEP. delicious.

He worked down my spine...it was a hurt-so-good workout. I was really starting to relax when he smacked my ass! I yelped and would have jumped, but he still had one hand firmly on my lower back. He just kept going...alternating between rubbing my back and spanking my butt. Talk about pain and pleasure!

Eventually it dawned on me that maybe I should be counting...I asked, and he admonished me.

"Did I tell you to count?"
"No, Master...."
"And have I berated for for not counting?"
"No, Master..."

He stopped the spanking to really rub out my lower back, but then started in on my butt again.

"Maybe you'd better count, pet, otherwise how will we know when we've gotten to 100?"

I know I stammered. "Where should I....(smack!)...AH!....start, Master?"

"Where do you think?"
Tearfully, I managed "One...thank you, Master."

It was a hard spanking. Beloved stopped now and then, praising me, telling me I was doing well, but then would continue. At 40 I broke and cried for him to stop, which lead to 10 very hard, very fast swats. I was face down in the mattress, tears squeezing from my eyes, my hair choking me, my nose running, barely managing the count. At 50, he stopped, petting me, kissing my back.

"Good girl...let it go...."

I sobbed. It hurt. I hurt. I was tired and resentful about his mom and burned out on carrying everything alone...and it was okay. Beloved understood...and let me cry it out. Slowly, I calmed down.

"Are you ready for more now?"

I couldn't answer! I couldn't believe there was more! I was done. I'd surrendered and cried and felt better...I didn't need more! The only answer I could think of that might appease him was,

"As Master wishes...."
"No, pet." He grabbed my hair and pulled my face up. He leaned in close to my ear. "I want to hear you say it. Tell me, 'Yes Master, I am ready for more."

I teared up again. I swallowed hard. I didn't want to believe he was really wanting to give me more, but he held me fast, not wavering in the least.

"Y-yes, Master....I am...ready for....more."

Beloved let me go, and began again. SMACK! Then he waited for the count...

"Fifty....one!" I cried. I sobbed. I hesitated. I hurt. But his hand continued to fall. 60. I breathed.... made it. He again told me how well I was doing...how much he loved me. I was lulled into thinking we were done... SMACK! and I whimpered out the count....and let go.

I was convinced we were going to 100. I was resigned. I surrendered. The next ten didn't hurt so much...the count came to me as if I were far away. I could see the floaty place I'd experienced at the Gallerina, but I wasn't quite there....

At 70, Beloved stopped. I almost felt cheated as he caressed my burning skin and whispered that was all for tonight. He nudged me over and crawled into bed with me, cradling my head on his chest. We talked. A little bit about what we each got out of the experience, a little bit about his working late or going out Friday, a little bit about...I don't remember what. I was falling asleep and finally asked if it were sleeping time....Beloved smiled and said, " I think so..."

He untangled himself and my blankets, tucked me in, and then slid into bed on his side.

"Thank you, Master" I whispered as I drifted into slumber.