Friday Evening at Home

I haven't shared a good spanking story in ages. Given that this is the whole point of MBS, that's a real shame. It's not for lack of stories to tell, I just get busy. These events transpired on Friday evening during our weekly fun time. I used the recorder to capture our dialogue, though the best parts involved very little talking.

As usual, I arrived home a couple of hours before Randy. This is a good arrangement most days because it gives me an opportunity to catch up on housework, fix some dinner, and check in at the blog. On Fridays, however, I often use this time to prepare for the evening's scheduled percussive festivities. What's funny is that I can plan only for myself. I generally have no idea what he has in mind. Sometimes, I suspect he doesn't either before it happens. My challenge is to provide suitable visual, auditory, olfactory, culinary, and tactile inspiration.

After a relaxing shower, I started by laying out a fairly tight plain white sweater. This is a versatile top in that it can be girlish, trampy, or businesslike, depending upon the rest of the outfit. I slid it over a padded über-bra (hey, I can pretend to have ample boobs).

For my lower half, I started with a silky pair of full white nylon briefs. Randy loves this style because it reminds him of what many girls and women wore back in the sixties. Next came a pale pink garter belt and dark tan stockings. I actually remembered to put on the garter belt underneath. I know what he likes. Atop this layer, I added a red pleated skirt. With the hem at mid-thigh, it felt pretty short.

Peering in my full length mirror, I liked what I saw, but I couldn't decide how to finish the look. What exactly was I going for? Each part worked fine, but the assembled whole seemed a little, well, disjointed. The stockings ruined the schoolgirl. The panties ruled out a stripper. Maybe a hot but slightly retro secretary... Yes, that was it! I added an old pair of plastic eyeglasses and overdid my make-up just a little. Next came a shiny black belt and matching pumps. A naughty office assistant stared back at me from behind the mirror. This would work just great.

It was still almost an hour before Randy was due to arrive. I had time to prepare the stage, but I wondered what I should do. I wanted to avoid interfering with any of his fiendish plans. Sometimes, he gives me a hint about his intentions, but this day I had nothing to go on.

I lit a vanilla-scented candle in the living room. I knew he'd like that. I turned on the air conditioning so we would be comfortable once things warmed up. I carried two paddles down from the bedroom. One was a semi-rigid roundish leather model. The other was our wooden teardrop paddle. Both are quite familiar and very effective. I removed two small portraits from the wall near the kitchen and replaced them with the two paddles neatly suspended from their respective cords. Randy had seen this little decorating trick before, but not recently.

I briefly considered burning some popcorn in the microwave to create an offense for my ill-behaved secretary, but I decided that stench would clash with the sweet candle in a most unpleasant way. No, we would have to invent something else.

Just about then, I heard the garage door opening one floor below. Randy was home. A wave of anxious anticipation passed through me. I ran into the lavatory, quickly rearranged my hair, and doubled checked my look. Sooner than I expected, I detected the unmistakable thuds of my man trudging up from the basement.

When the basement door opened, there he was. He paused for a moment as if to assess the meaning behind my appearance. His eyebrows raised in unison as a wry smile crossed his face.

“I'm ready for my dictation, sir,” I chirped with appropriate emphasis on the most important syllable.

“All in good time, my dear,” he replied. “First, I think we need to perform your performance evaluation.”

Oooo, he's good, I thought. He excused himself to use the bathroom while I pondered the events to come. I sat on the love seat hopeful that Randy might soon join me.

Naturally, his plan was a bit different. His idea of a performance evaluation involved me standing behind the love seat and bending over the back of it. At the urging of my Prince Charming, I placed my forearms on the seat of the couch. Quite by design, I'm sure, my bottom was way up in the air and completely vulnerable.

It was about this time that I realized that he hadn't even kissed me yet. I rationalized that kissing was probably fairly rare in real performance evaluations. So was spanking, I supposed, but that didn't stop Randy for even a moment.

“What a vision of perfection," he crowed as he unwrapped his human gift. Up went my skirt.

“Someone conveniently hung up two paddles just in case a spanking was necessary. How thoughtful!”

“So is this my performance evaluation?” I teased.

“No, but we will begin shortly.”

I clenched my teeth in anticipation of that first crashing swat.

But it didn't come, at least not immediately. Instead, Randy's palm caressed the taut fabric of my traditional white panties. His fingers assayed my lower curves and traced the gusset line. He rubbed the back of his hand repeatedly against the thin, smooth nylon covering.

Perhaps he was simply enjoying this exploration, but it had the effect of lulling me into misplaced confidence. When I wiggled my bottom in response to his touch, he slapped it hard across both cheeks.

“Young lady, your work of late has been below our standards. I could easily fire you, but spanking you is totally more fun.” I cracked up with this line, but he continued, now mixing friendly pats with stinging swats.

“Besides, if I fired you, who would get the spankings around here?”

It must have been a rhetorical question because he never answered it. Next, he grabbed the leather paddle and began spanking in earnest. Had anyone come to our front door, they surely would have heard the unmistakable sounds of corporal punishment. The swats reverberated throughout the room and my reactions were nearly as loud. I didn't care because the pulsating heat generated by the paddle seared into my very soul. I love being spanked because of the way it makes me feel – sexy and ravenous for his love.

“I can see we're getting nowhere this way,” my husband chided. I might have wanted to disagree, but before I could say a word, my bottom was bared. Now wielding wood, he assaulted my skin with fast, firm strokes. I screeched with pain but no relief was forthcoming. Were my head clear, I might have contemplated employing my safeword, but by this stage, I was simply experiencing each moment.

Despite the intensity, or perhaps because of it, Randy soon moved on to other pursuits. He dragged my panties all the way down and silently invited me to step out of them. After I did, he guided my legs apart and explored my wetness with his skillful digits. I was soon panting and imploring him to finish what he had started. He certainly did. His pleasure piston left me gasping and grabbing fistfuls of the pillow. As he worked, his fingers kneaded my scarlet flesh as if to renew my spanked glory. It was a satisfying soreness that drove me to the crest and beyond.

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Well, I did get that kiss, but not until after Randy asked me what I wanted for dinner. When you live with a man, you take the good with the bad. On this evening, the good was outstanding. Thank you, my love, for a wonderful spanking!