After my meltdown a few evenings ago my kids have been giving me a wide berth. See, they can be really smart kids when they try. I have no idea if Musicman had a hand in engineering things, but we finally had an empty house for a short period of time on Friday evening.
I had been laying in the bed, relaxing and enjoying the cool breeze generated by the fan when he came in and announced we were alone. As he climbed in next to me he reached for the leather paddle, happily announcing we were alone. He flipped up the bottom of my dress and pushed my legs open as he almost simultaneously pulled down the top of my dress.
I just laid there, spread and exposed, wondering what the heck was going on. My brain hadn't quite caught up with what he had said yet and I don't think it ever really did. I blame that fact on the leather paddle which was all too quickly connecting with my most intimates parts.
My eyes closed of their own volition. I find the not knowing where or when the next blow will fall just heightens the experience for me. In between the blows, and my gasps, I realize that Musicman is speaking.
I remember thinking, this is an awful funny moment to try and hold a conversation, but I soon realized it was not necessary for me to do anything but listen and feel. Which is exactly what I did.
In between the slaps of the leather on tingling flesh, Musicman informed me we were going to have the house the house to ourselves for the weekend. He told me where our son would be and what his plans for the weekend were. He informed me where our daughter would be and what her plans for the weekend were.
By this point, my breathe was out of control and I was not as focused as should have been on what Musicman was saying. I do however remember him saying that what he was currently doing was just a taste of what I would be getting the next night. For a moment, I had my doubts that this plan would actually come together. He must have read my thoughts of doubt, because the increase of intensity and frequency of the blows was very apparent.
No longer able to think, or to doubt, or to do anything but feel and react, I did not hear the door downstairs open. I was quite happily floating away on the feelings of pain and pleasure when Musicman stuffed a pillow in my mouth. Guess that's as good a way as any to get a passion ravaged faerie to be quiet.
I awoke the next morning sore and sated and still wondering if we were really going to have the whole evening to ourselves for some extended playtime.