This would not be the first time, no, that shipped sailed many years ago,
and
yet each time it's the same. Diana turns from the corner when I call and
then
does not move. She knows she's earned this spanking. Her actions
were
deliberate and designed to get my attention. In her own way both wants
and
needs it, but when the moment is here she is frozen to that
spot.
This is not the same as our play sessions where she enjoys a good
spanking. My
Diana is a huge fan of fantasy stories and loves to role play.
Her current
favorite is Arwen to my Aragorn, although I think her choice has
more to do with
my being nearly unable to remove that damned dress she wears
than any real love
of the character. I've indulged all of her fantasies but
one - I put my foot
down at dressing up like Galadriel. It seems she wanted
to know what it would be
like to be spanked by a woman. I told her we'd hire
one. But that's all in fun.
Games we play where I struggle to keep her in
character and keep her from
practically leaping across my lap for her
spanking. No, this is not play.
Now I sit here watching her as she stands
there with her eyes cast down. I
won't force her. The choice must be hers. It
is always her choice. All I can
do try is make those few steps easier to
take. I hold my hand out to her and
wonder, as I always wonder, if she will
trust me.
It was what she was waiting for and does not hesitate to place
her smaller hand
into mine. It's like this every time. It's our ritual.
The Wait
Inspired by the above picture posted on WL.
"Come on, come sit with me. What's done is done." He said.
I turned to look; he sat with his back pressed into the corner, legs open and
inviting. His corner. He knew it intimately, though not normally with the
blinds open as he is supposed to be thinking when he is here.
I join him, leaning back into his embrace as he wraps his body around mine and
kisses my neck. Suddenly the humor of it strikes me and I laugh. We had
painted ourselves into a corner and there was nothing to do but wait until it
dried.
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