More Ottoman Dreams

Perhaps some will remember that a while back I was fantasizing about a spanking while I was laid out over our leather ottoman...

There are all sorts of "parts" to that imagining for me: the comfort and security of a good, solid, simple piece of furniture, the smell and feel of leather, some hearkening back to the early days of our history together... All part of the appeal for me in this particular scene.

A couple of weeks ago, He told me that He was thinking about "rigging" the ottoman with some 2x4's that we had hanging out in the garage -- and use them to create tie-down points for restraints on the ottoman. Then, He told me, we could do a scene like we used to.

And then, as is sort of par for the course in our lives, things got nuts, and all thoughts of playing had to be put aside while we tended to the other stuff. But then, the ottoman, and getting spanked there, seemed to be all I could think about. All the time. It has, for the last couple of weeks, been in my thoughts and dreams almost continually.

Today, when I called Him to tell Him that I was on my way home from school, He told me that He was home. My insides did that little flip that I remember, and I began to wonder if, maybe today, we'd get the chance to play. I was almost afraid to hope because it is not all that uncommon for those kind of hopes to get dashed.

So, I headed home, and He was here waiting. We sat and talked while I had a snack, and then He told me that He'd checked and found that the 2x4's would indeed work just fine -- He'd left them right inside the garage door. We chatted a bit about whether we should spank in this condo or that, and finally, He decided that I should go get the boards and the ottoman. A couple of trips, and I had all the requisite gear hauled from T's side of the house to mine.

Some fiddling ensued while He worked out all the restraints, and got me fastened down. I haven't been seriously restrained for a very long time, and I found the reality to be very scary. It took me a bit of time to get through the "head thing" associated with being that vulnerable, and that without options. A tiny, little bit of panic...

And then He started. He hand spanked me for awhile. He talked to me -- about the cutting, about being His, about how He loves me. He commented that He thought that, since the position I was in caused my butt to be much tighter, that He planned to use "lighter, stingier" implements that wouldn't create heavy impact on my hip bones. Lighter and stingier means canes, straps, whips, and the one little, light paddle that just burns. That's exactly how things went.

I struggled some, but there really was no way out. I think I might have asked for a gag at one point, but I'm not sure He heard me -- or if He did, He chose not to respond. I did my level best to stay quiet; to remember to chant away to myself; to remember who I am, whose I am, how I am supposed to behave. He left me striped, welted, bright red and burning. He left me feeling happy, loved, all His.

swan