You plunge into me; cleaving me, filling me, taking me. Your hands cruelly squeeze and crush the raw flesh of my buttocks. Your hips pummel and thrust up into me. Urgency and panic take me. Agony takes me. Ecstasy melds with distress and spasms into crisis. I climax for you again, and you revel in it. Yet you withhold yours from me.
I tremble and shudder and press my hands down onto your chest. My arms are rubber, my body limp. It hurts, the way your fingers squeeze me, the way the swollen floor of my sex pulses and contracts around you. I am completely spent. My mind can’t help it now. It silently begs to be allowed to take what you’ve done to me into a place that must have rest.
Tears stream from my eyes, and I can’t stop them. I love you so much, and I can’t fathom the luck that has let me have you and keep you for so long. The intensity of what we have just shared rips at me, and when I open my eyes and look down into yours, I see that you know. The soft, perfect affection I see there floods me, and I can’t help the wrenching sobs that well up.
You smile, and then you wrap me to you, warming me, loving me needing me. Your arms gently surround me, drawing me down against you where I can rest. Your hips lift and circle against and within me, soothing the last of my spasms from me. Then you roll me and cover me, and love me more.
Your kisses drink my tears, your caresses still my trembling, your thrusts, though firm and powerful are slow. This gentler love calms me into sleepy sensual bliss. I am all yours. I feel boneless, soft, and completely relaxed beneath you. Your rhythmic sinuous possession of me now is a sweet and perfect contrast to the brutal ownership that came first. Our coupling massages my being. When you finally give in to your climax, nothing is in my senses but you, and I revel in every ripple and contraction your body makes around and with in me. This is the physicality of us. My renewal and tangible reassurance that I am yours and you are mine.
Domestic submission 
One of the little secrets my wife let me in early in our dating relationship was that she expected spankings to really hurt. According to my wife, that was why, even when she was still a virgin, she was secretly wanted her future husband to pull down her panties and give her bottom a good paddling.
Since then, other women have stated that, to do any good, spankings have to hurt.
Whether punitive or cathartic, spankings constitute a purification ritual. To use a religious analogy, spankings expel the demons. They make a woman feel clean inside. Most likely that is why spanking has multiple meanings. Not surprisingly, one of those is synonymous with brand new.
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You know constance, I sometimes wonder how many of us take our man for granted.
That he will always be there when we need him. That he will always give us the love and discipline.
They are certainly the unsung heroes.
We should all try more to show them just how much we appreciate them.
I don’t mean just sucking his cock and serving him naked. Though that is nice of course.
I mean send him texts saying how much he is missed, can’t wait til he gets home, leave a love note in his wallet that he will see when he gets lunch on a hectic work day, leave your panties in his briefcase, just so many things some even the littlest that shows just how much he is appreciated.
Or in the case of what you did, wrote a very creative and sexy letter. I do hope he gets to see it. I don’t think you have told us if he reads your blog, but maybe you printed it out for him?
Anyways, well done constance.
amber xxx
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Amber,
thanks for the compliment (again)… he knows about my blog, but doesn’t read actively here (he works a lot…). But I delivered him a nice present 🙂
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Hi Constance,
You perfectly captured all of the feelings and sensations that surround a wonderful session of spanking and lovemaking. I might have to wake my husband. Thank you!
Hugs,
Bonnie
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Bonnie,
thank you very much for the kind compliment!
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