The first highlight from my blogging sabbatical

When the hell is that girl going to finally post something already?

Yep, I know you've been thinking it. Hell, I've been thinking it. Each week I'd think that at some point during the coming seven days I should finally feel well enough to post about our recent spanking-related activities. And then those seven days passed, and I moved onto another hopeful but post-less seven days. Ultimately, I had only enough energy to either get spanked or blog. As you can see, I chose the former. Though the later wouldn't have been very interesting without the former.

Basically that cold really knocked me on my ass. I've had a handful of viral infections over the last few years since my ME/CFIDS became more debilitating but I've never had quite the level of post-viral exhaustion like I've had the last two months. At one point a month ago I was starting to feel a bit better, but then activities related to our "fundamental obsession" hurled me right back into bed with a vengeance and in a most mortifying way. But I'll get to that later.

I've been working on a single post highlighting our spanking play during the last two months of A.'s visit. Having started this on March 19th, I was expecting that it was going to get posted before he left last Tuesday on the 27th. But, well, five pages into it at this point, I've realized that putting it all in one post would be a bit unwieldy. And besides, now that A. is back in England, I also thought it'd be kinda nice to spread out the memories in a series of posts. In some ways the ten weeks he was here went faster than they ever have because he was working a lot and I was so sick so much of the time. Yet somehow, we also ended up playing a lot more than we probably even did when he was here last summer.

At any rate, first, about that cold...

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NyQuil Sex and the Return of the Endorphines

So A. and I got a really bad cold towards the end of January. For A. it was an annoying, lethargic two weeks with a cough that lingered longer. For me, along with the lingering cough, it was a week or so of glands so swollen one was pressing down on a nerve that shot pain through my right arm, and I kept feeling like I was breathing through a straw. After a few days of my herbal cough tea with slippery elm bark and licorice root not really making much of a dent in my sore throat, I asked A. if he could go to Safeway and get me some NyQuil. "It's gotta be green and WITH alcohol," I instructed as NyQuil is apparently not as well known in England.

Indeed, I was instructing and insisting on a lot over that week or so and after waiting on me pretty much hand and foot, A. started feeling the need to express his own demanding side. One night when my throat was feeling better thanks to an entire giant bottle of NyQuil, he smacked me on the backside.

"Your ass needs some attention," he stated as he started pulling out implements from the craft box under the bed.

I sat up in bed and gulped. And with good reason too. He was pulling out the strap, his belt, the flogger and loopy toy, the cane and the riding crop.

But lemme tell ya, the endorphines were sooo back! While I don't believe he used all of those implements (it was quite awhile ago now and my memory is fuzzy at this point), whatever he did use should have been enough to have me squealing and wishing it would end already. Except it felt like more of a warm up by the time he quit.

After the spanking, he started looking for the condoms.

"I'm getting fucked up the ass, aren't I?" I said, biting my lower lip.

"You are SO getting fucked up the ass." He grinned malevolently.

And, I tell you, dear reader, I did. Hard.

It was absolutely delicious.

"Mmm...I like NyQuil sex," I said in that dreamy sort of state that only a good orgasm can produce.

The next morning my spanking mojo was still hungry. Plus, I was in a bratty little girl mood, so A. awoke to find me in my little girl dress -- a cotton bubble-gum pink dress with blue flowers and a white collar. As you might imagine, within a few hours (I would never start bratting first thing in the morning -- that would just be too cruel!) I was bent over the bed getting the cane, and then the hairbrush, which I believe was its first appearance since the advent of blood thinners.

This was it. I was finally going to get it good. Except soon he had to stop because I was really starting to mark and could start bleeding too much. Indeed, the cane was already drawing blood. Not much but enough to say my spanking was over.

But I didn't wanna stop. I wanted it hard. I wanted it to be overwhelming. I wanted to be taken to my limit. And I was just so not anywhere near my limit.

I realize most people would be happy to have those endorphines. During spankings over the last several months I've wondered where the hell they had gone. Yet on the other hand, I liked the fact that we could reach my limit pretty quickly before a lot of bruising set in. However, methinks those days are over (with some exceptions...see forthcoming post).