Leather

He has reverted to leather. Tawse and heavy paddle.
I am in heaven. Leather is my delight. There is something about the pain that leather brings that is deeply delicious and warmer than all the other evil stuff that fills up the arsenal of implements.
It isn't that He can't bring me to tears, to screams, to sobs, and the near panic that makes me think I can't hang on another stroke with leather toys... He can surely do that. With leather, though, my skin doesn't seem to break and bleed. He gets that glow He loves, the color that He likes; the heat that makes Him hot -- and there's no blood to clean up.
So, this rarest of mornings, when there was nothing at all on the calendar to drag us out -- nothing pressing to force us up and at it, we came slowly up from deep and dreaming sleep to contemplate -- breakfast. Sigh. We've gotten so old. So tired. So worn, that, when the time is given, there is simply no energy left for passion anymore. Old age sucks. Stress has gotten to us finally I think.
I am a good slave (at least I try). I have quit complaining most of the time -- quit pouting. I climbed out of the bed and headed off to brush the teeth and become presentable. It was as I stood, naked at the bathroom sink, brushing my teeth, that He finally noted "the butt," and decided that perhaps there really might be some value in spanking me this morning. Back to bed we went. An hour or so later, well spanked and with the appropriate morning "ministrations" completed, we were finally off to a breakfast treat -- crab cake benedict at a favorite nearby eatery.
Maybe we are not quite as old as that after all.

swan