Читать книгу Eroticizing Discipline: Dominance, Submission and Exquisite Pleasure - H. Hargrove - Страница 9

Hard to Believe

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Pull your jeans and panties down and get across my lap. I’m going to give you a good spanking. It’s much more effective than fighting and not speaking to each other for days”

“My God, Rob…you have got to be kidding me.”

I remember the exact words…can see the scene unfold…as if it happened yesterday. But it’s been three years, and I’m waiting for Rob to come home from work, and in the words he used this morning, “Take my belt off and tan your behind.”

I still get angry that I’m subjected to being punished this way. But I’ve come to realize that the embarrassment and sting is mixed with a component of arousal. Is that because of the potent erotic brew, according to Rob, of the anxiety of knowing and waiting, the ritual of removing my skirt or pants, the preparation, being ordered into position, having my panties pulled down? Or is it thoughts of the incredible warmth, tenderness and sexual excitement and pleasure that he always gives me after my punishment is over. Doesn’t matter. I’m at peace with it. And I have to admit that Rob was right from the beginning. The level and intensity of my sexual pleasure is greater with him than it has ever been at any other time in my life. I’m more in love him than I’ve ever been. But that flash of initial anger still flows through me when I’m told I’m going to be spanked.

I wonder if my punishment tonight will be the first episode for the blog. Another issue I fought against. And finally gave in. At least on a trial basis. After all, he’s been right before. He promised I’ll get to write as much of it as he does. From my perspective. Even if it’s negative. Which presents me with a lot to mull over.

Of course we won’t use our real names. He’s going to be…hah…Victor. And we’ll have disguises. We bought a dark wig and beard for him and a dark, short wig for me. There will be a single, small, unrecognizable corner of the house where we’ll take the single photo that will go along with each journal entry. No more than one. I insisted. And absolutely no way to identify us or the house. I must admit - this elaborate production and writing all sounds like it could be fun.

But will I write what I really feel? That I hate it when I know I’m going to get a spanking. Or that I don’t really hate it. That I often get wet when I think about it. But what part of it? Do I know what I really feel? Well, that’s what I’ll write…that I don’t know. Or I don’t think I know. I’ll describe my feelings for each episode exactly as I remember them…as the episode plays out.

After dinner Rob disappeared for about twenty minutes and then reappeared in our office, where I was doing some work. He unbuckled his belt and slowly removed it. “Kate, follow me. It’s time for me to discipline you.”

I followed him downstairs, pretty sure now why we weren’t going up to our bedroom or into the bathroom, the usual places where Rob takes me when I’m going to be punished. I followed him into the storage room. The chair against the wall and camera on the tripod confirmed my suspicions.

There was a box on the floor by the camera, and the wigs and his beard were inside. There was a new pair of panties – white cotton, legs cut high, but basically a “boy” cut, that I would never wear under normal circumstances. But then no one would assume I would either. He thinks of everything.

I had on tight jeans and a short sweatshirt, and he told me to take the jeans off, put the white panties on, then put the jeans back on. He told me to put on the wig, then grabbed his wig and beard and left the room. I was suddenly excited. As I pulled off my pants and thong and put the cotton panties on I felt moisture between my legs. There was a mirror on the wall opposite the chair and fitting the short, dark brown wig over my long blond hair was fun. I must say, I thought I looked pretty good as a brunette.

Rob came back into the room in full beard and toupee. He looked like a terrorist and I giggled. “I don’t appreciate your humor when I have to discipline you. I don’t think you’ll find the spanking I’m about to give you funny.”

He turned the camera on, then fired one test shot from the remote, igniting the flash. “Pull your jeans down.”

It’s ten in the morning, I’ve been sitting at the computer for an hour…and have just a couple of lines typed. On this, the day after the first episode that will appear on the blog, based on my punishment and our lovemaking last night - I need to get my entry finished before my noon appointment.

Last night was a real turn on…the sex was fantastic. I was dripping wet while Rob was spanking me, but it may have been the whole idea of the disguises, the blog, that others would know although we would remain anonymous. Maybe even I have some exhibitionism in me…if I can remain incognito. I want to write my true feelings, but I can’t mention the blog because that would make it seem staged. No…I’m wrong. Of course I can.

Now I have a direction. I’m energized. My fingers begin to fly over the keys.

The idea of letting all the interested online world know that my husband spanks me like a naughty girl, the details of my punishments, and also our lovemaking, was not appealing to me when Victor first brought it up. I’m not sure how I got to this point…but Victor is very persuasive.

Yesterday was spent with the anxiety of knowing that Victor was going to discipline me when he got home from work. It sometimes happens when he first arrives, just after he’s kissed me… signaled by the slow removal of his belt from his trousers, or sending me to get the hairbrush. It may happen after we have had dinner; a dinner during which I have a hard time relaxing, or enjoying the food and wine, knowing what I am in for.

There are few moments my impending punishment is not on my mind on the days I will be disciplined. I visualize what will happen…think about other times…again and again. A strange sort of tension stays with me all day. I’m still nervous on one level…but also feel an unmistakable, pleasurable stirring in my loins.