Maintenance Saturday. I dread Saturday mornings almost as much as I look forward to them. Some things remain the same. Some change.
I present myself in Husband’s office, nude, hands behind my back, at precisely 10:00 a.m. I confess whatever I feel I could have done better during that week. He can add to the list as needed though he rarely does. After that, I do not speak unless directed to do so. I wait for his decision on whether I will be punished, maintained, or both.
This morning, it was both. First, was the punishment. I bent over his desk and spread my hands wide pressing my breasts against the hard wood.
I hate counting. Still, it forces me to focus on the punishment and not the pleasure. I don’t know when the punishment will be over. He never tells me that. I just have to keep count and thank him for each one. One week it will be five stripes. Another, 50. Today, it was 15. By the time he finished, my ass and upper thighs were on fire and slightly welted. My face was a mess of tears and my thighs sticky from the excitement such a humiliating excitement a caning brings.
He rubs my back, praising me for staying in place and keeping track of the count. I almost float, his words mean so much to me.
As protocol demands, after a punishment, Husband uses my ass. He gathers my own wetness and lubes my anus as well as his cock. Slowly he enters, allowing me time to adjust.
“That’s it, wife. Take all of it. Push back. I know you want this.”
I obey because he’s right. I want this. I want his cock in my ass, taking, possessing, claiming my most secret and personal of places.
His fingers dig into my hips as he gains his rhythm. I match his thrusts, needing his power. It takes but a moment before I lose myself. All that matters is his flesh inside of mine. His power igniting mine. His power dominating mine. Eventually, after I have come four more times, he empties himself deep inside of me.
He helps me to stand and places me in a corner. Here I will remain until he says otherwise, my arms locked behind the small of my back, his cum running down my thighs. I hang my head, blushing at the pleasure I feel from his humiliation, his punishment, his dominance. I am not ashamed of these feelings. I reveal in them. This morning, I remained standing for a long, long time. He does this sometimes. Makes me wait, makes me think.
I heard him pat his lap and say “Position”. I turned and saw him seated on the couch. He only sits on the couch for long sessions. I positioned myself over his lap. He began to talk as the spanking began.
“This is your maintenance now. Twenty minutes on. Twenty minutes rest. I’ve been wanting to re-watch this movie for some time. For the twenty minutes of rest, I’ll watch. For the twenty minutes of spanking, I’ll pause. This will continue until the movie is finished.”
I was already sobbing. Husband has a heavy hand for both punishment and Maintenance.
“Oh, and did I mention the movie is just over 3 hours long? Go ahead and cry. It’s good for you. If you’re well behaved and don’t complain, after you’ve properly thanked me for this session with sucking my cock, I’ll make love to you.”
I can’t think. My ass will be tender for days! Instead, I sink into the pain, make it a part of my soul, and embrace it.
“If you disappoint, though, I’ll use your ass again. And every day this week.”
My body slumps, accepting the fate I have chosen. Tears that I don’t feel anymore stream down my face.
Now, I’m lying in bed on my stomach, my bottom too tender to tolerate anything else, my pussy filled with his come, my muscles relaxed, my soul at peace.