Respite

The last couple of days my pain level has dropped to more manageable levels. So, I've been poking A. to spank me. Literally. It's my subtle way of bratting for it.

Last night he half joked as we waited for an old friend of mine to stop by for a visit that he was going to spank me before she came so I'd have a sore bottom while we visited. I think both of us got a little busy in the meantime before that phone call from her requesting that I buzz her in. After visiting for a couple of hours, she left and A. and I decided we could go for a bit of tuna fish. As it was midnight or so, I went to the bathroom afterwards to brush my teeth and get ready for bed. And came out with my hair in pigtails.

You know, just to remind him that he forgot something earlier.

"Oh oh oh! Pigtails," A. exclaimed as he sprawled out on the bed flipping among late night shows. I grinned and climbed up to join him. As we cuddled and wandered from Leno to Letterman to Kimmel, he caressed my flannel-clad bottom.

Gawd I love it when he does that.

Though I admit I was getting a bit impatient. So, I started poking. Which he ignored. But the caressing was nice. Smooth circular motions outlining my ample backside and crack. The other hand sometimes caressing my hair. Playing with my pigtails.

As he watched the opening monologue of Craig Ferguson, it was all I could do to keep from screaming "would you just fucking spank me already!" while he chuckled and made comments about Ferguson not being quite as bad as he originally reckoned. Finally, the monologue was over, and A. flipped off the telly.

"Alright. Over my knee."

That wonderful place I've missed for almost four months -- including twenty days of him being here.

We scooted around and I assumed my position and he tugged down my jimjam bottoms as I lifted my hips slightly. There were some soft smacks and then the harder ones.

Good gawd is my pain threshold shit.

I mean, I'd already taken my bedtime narcotics and those smacks still stung like crazy. Had me kicking and squirming and whimpering and clenching my teeth. And it was only his hand.

Of course, there was lots of rubbing in between. And alternating of hard and soft smacks. There was a little bladder pain, and it probably would have been more comfortable had I put a pillow on his lap, but I couldn't be bothered to interrupt play with anything illness-related. Eventually he motioned for me to get up.

"I'm going out to smoke, and I want you to lay on the bed and wait for me to give you the cane."

The endorphines had finally kicked in so I wasn't nearly as afraid as I might have been otherwise. It was even hard to put myself in that naughty, scary frame of mind as I lay there with my flannel pj bottoms at mid thigh while my bare, pink ass awaited further punishment.

"Right. I'm going to give you eight strokes," A. said as he picked up the cane upon his return. "Count them please."

"Yes, Sir." I scrunched my eyes shut waiting for hot, horrible pain. It was hot, but not necessarily horrible. Indeed, the eighth stroke came rather quickly. We cuddled for a bit after that until he told me it was bedtime. "But, I don't wanna go to bed."

"Excuse me?" With feigned, stern shock. "I haven't put the cane away yet."

Normally this would solicit instant compliance. But, you know, those eight strokes were so quick. And not as hard as I expected.

"I don't want to go to bed." With my mischievous grin. He calmly stood up and picked the cane up off the chair.

"Well, that'll teach me for being too light on you," A. said with a smile. "Right. Eight more. Count them please."

And that time they sure did hurt alright.

Though, I think if it hadn't been 1:30 am and might have waken the neighbors, I probably would have begged for the strap.

But, I obeyed this time. Got up and turned out the lights, though not before admiring my marks in the mirror. Then snuggled under the covers on a stingy bottom, still hungry for more but grateful for this little window of opportunity.

Yep, the urologist's office called about an hour or so ago and said my cystoscopy will be next Tuesday. Then the UTI pain starts all over again.

Swell.

Upadate: A. could read my mind even if he hadn't yet read this post. The next afternoon, as the cane was still resting on the chair, A. couldn't resist the urge to pick it up as I walked through the room. He gave me a few on my breasts and a few more over my pj bottoms. Then got out the strap. ::big grin:: Except I wasn't grinning once he started whacking me. Damn that thing hurts over a sorely caned bottom! Then he took me over his knee again and almost had me crying with a really hard handspanking. Almost.

It was very cool. ;)

"Gotta take advantage of my windows," he said as we cuddled afterwards. Must have read this post, I thought. Nope. Hadn't had a chance yet. "But now I'm really curious."

Alas, the window closed by that night as a new medicine took affect and my back and pelvis started hurting from a yeast infection. Fingers-crossed my UA will still be UTI free today. Not sure how it will affect the schedule for the cystoscopy on Tuesday if I do have one.