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to do that kind of thing, anyway."
Hunt rolled over and said something like, "Whose body is it?"
This is one of the things about our disciplinary relationship that dribbles a little into other
areas, but not much. Hunt believes that, as my husband, it is his right and his right only to
touch me privately. That, in marrying him, I have essentially given up the right to
creating my own pleasure. That that is both his right and his responsibility as my husband
and he doesn t much want me to have anything to do with that, except at his command.
Up till now, I ve never had any problem with that. But today . . .
So there I was. Completely naked, which he almost always insisted on, especially when
we were in the bedroom. Over my own pillow, on my own bed, with my own husband
standing on my left, holding that God-awful belt in his right hand. His strong hand.
Voluntarily helpless, and subject to his decision about what I needed to correct my
disobedience.
No matter how long we do this which I assume will be for the length of our
relationship, which I fully intend to be the rest of my life, although we may cause a bit of
a commotion in the nursing home I m still never really ready for that first stroke. I
don t know that you can ever truly be prepared for it. It always hurts more than I thought
it would, and less than I thought it would, if that makes any sense to you.
The only thing that that doesn t hold true for with me is the cane. The cane always hurts
more than I think I can tolerate and Hunt always shows me that I can tolerate more than
I thought I could.
And, I don t know how anyone else feels, but sometimes I feel like I can take a lot and
sometimes I can only tolerate a little. I don t know if it has something to do with my time
of the month, or what . . . which I suppose is a somewhat sexist thing, but then . . . is it
still sexism if I m female?
The belt is a pretty hefty implement in the arsenal. That, and the cane are probably the
two most awe-inspiring things he uses with any regularity. And that s not to say in any
way, shape or form that the other things I get spanked with don t do the job and don t
hurt something fierce. They do. Especially the paddle. But, sheesh, even his hand hurts
really badly when he wants it to. Honestly, there is nothing in his arsenal that can t
reduce me to tears in a matter of minutes when he applies it with his usual gusto and
Hunt doesn t do anything halfway, and that includes disciplining his errant wife.
would be me [grin]>
Even from the first stroke, I couldn t control my voice. I always give myself a bit of a
pep-talk before hand, telling myself to be brave and quiet and noble and dignified . . .
with the belt, I m lucky if my resolve lasts until after that first one. Sometimes I want to
just start crying and begging when I first see it in his hand. Hell, sometimes I start crying
and begging when he just threatens to spank me at all.
I can be such a wimp!
With the cane, he always waits before delivering the next one, so that the "secondary
sting" has a chance to hit me, as if the primary sting wasn t bad enough
again . . . still . . . yet . . . > Not so with the belt. There were no such considerations, and
he laid them on me fast and hard.
I have to admit that, although he almost always lectures before, during, and after, with
only a couple of exceptions, the only one I really even come anywhere near hearing is the
before one when I m still hoping to talk
think of short of dying on him> him out of it. As soon as the swats start, my brain flies
out the window
situation> and the only thing I can see and hear is what I FEEL. The only thing I m
focusing all of myself on is getting through it - surviving the next round of slashes against
my tender flesh. However I react which, as I understand it is loudly
considers how many hotels have asked us not to return big blush> only I m not really
listening to myself, either, so it s hard to tell is completely natural and completely out
of my control kind of like the punishment itself. I know that I cry and wail and moan
and beg I know that afterwards, sometimes, I m hoarse for days about as long as it
takes for the bruises to fade.
So, to me, if he asks me questions during a lecture, that s entirely unfair. Just give me the
darned punishment and get it over with, already. I don t want to have to think about
where I am, about how I m letting him treat me
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