Sunday, August 5, 2012

Where the Hell Have I Been? (and Where's my Big O?)

I am not really a slacker. Well...okay maybe I am but what can I say? I've been a busy girl! Since my last post, Hubby spent a week in Canada starting a new contract position (he can work from home), and then I was on the rag (I know, I'm so sexy about the mundane) for a week. We've recently reconnected. Thank goodness!
But I've been a bit stressed lately. Too stressed to even think about blogging (gasp!). Hubby has decided to put me back in charge of my business (long story) and it's overwhelming. I've got employees acting like teenagers, equipment breaking, several expensive trips to Office Depot, both of our cars breaking down at the same's been complete and utter chaos! The stress level has been mind-boggling.
Of course I want a spanking "vacation". But I've recently discovered something that bothers me quite a bit. It seems that the more spanking I receive, the longer it takes for me to orgasm. What's that about? Getting spanked turns me on, big time. What is happening to make it so hard to get my release? Anyone?
I've requested a vacation tonight because it's been a pretty stressful morning. I could use a little relief. I could also use a few words to keep my mind focused on tonight like, "I'm going to spank you tonight". That is, if we both don't fall down exhausted.
That reminds me...Sorry for the late replies to my last post. I never had a comment before, so I wasn't really expecting anything. One of the commenters, Young Lady, had reminded me of something that happened when I was 14. I had had a bit of an obsession with spanking since I was 10 or so, but I didn't think on it too much because I had lost my mom right after I turned 13 and I was still trying to grasp reality. I was adopted by another family and they were pretty strict. Being one to fear consequences, I tried very hard to keep out of trouble, though trouble found me on a few occasions. One day stands out far more than any other, and it was the last time I got spanked (Not because of my age. My new "parents" were splitting up and I was left to parent myself. I am sure I would have continued to receive spankings as long as I lived there had they had a strong marriage). The memory stands out because I was confused about my body and all that was happening that I couldn't control. My "dad" was completely above reproach. It was my body that was betraying me.
Being 14, almost 15, I had developed and completed puberty. I had monthly bouts of uncontrollable PMS, which on this particular occasion cost me dearly.
We had a family friend living with us. He was put in charge to take us to a local fair but I was convinced that I was old enough to not need his guidance or bossiness. He kept demanding that I stay with them and not walk ahead. I didn't feel like going slow, nor did I feel like his ordering me around was necessary at my age. I deliberately defied him. He could be in charge of the younger kids (ages 12 and 9), but he didn't need to boss me around. I really didn't think my actions were any big deal. Boy was I wrong...
The next day, I was informed by my "mom" that when my "dad" got home, I would be getting a spanking for being disobedient. After I spent some time in shock, I started really thinking about it. Did I deserve it? Was I sorry? Why should I be sorry? Why do I have all this wet stuff in my panties? I spent the day in my room reorganizing everything and putting clothes away. I couldn't help but contemplate the pain involved, the implement to be used, the number of strokes I would get, and how I was going to force myself to cry when I didn't feel the need too. He always insisted on tears as a show of remorse. I always faked it.
The time finally came. He was home. He called me into his room, explained why I was getting spanked, and apologized that he had to use the belt, but the paddle had just gotten broken on my "brother" the day before. My stomach had been in knots. I had already changed my panties twice. Thank goodness he spanked me over my jeans because I don't know what he would have thought had he seen my reaction down there.
After it was over, I felt empty. I think it was "is this all I get after all my fretting?" that I was feeling. I think I always wondered how much I could take, but was too afraid to go there. And now I find out while experimenting with Hubby that I can't take much yet (to be fair, we haven't tested my limits, just his) and it takes away from my prized orgasm. I just don't get it. I'm kinda left feeling empty again. What is this???
Okay, I will definitely be back now that I have readers. See you in the comments!

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