I won’t tell you about our scene last night, how long it had been since the last one, and how much we had both needed the level of play that I’d struggled to find the words to ask for that morning.
I won’t tell you how nervous I was, whilst on my knees waiting for him to come into our room, and how I could see his intentions laid out on our bed in canes, floggers, restraints and toys.
I won’t tell you how I doubted my body as my spanking started and I winced at how much it hurt, when it wasn’t much at all, and how I struggled to settle into it as it felt like the first spanking I’d ever had, because time had sensitised my body anew.
I won’t tell you he knew this and so switched between pain and pleasure until I forgot which was which as they merged into one, then I craved the pain again as my body remembered they were one and the same once more and I relaxed.
I won’t tell you how much I wriggled and rose up on my toes as I had to count down the strikes from 10, each incremental in force, when I’d already been told to stay down, and that he started again from 10 each time I did and it took six restarts to discipline myself to count and stay put.
I won’t tell you that he caned out the hurt and confusion and insecurity and concern I’d wrangled with all day, not his doing, but he saw it and knew it had to escape, that he expected me to break for him to set it free and so I sobbed it out into my pillow until my arse hurt more than my heart.
I won’t tell you how I begged to cum again and again, plugged and filled and edged and denied, that my blood didn’t bother us as I flooded the black towels he’d put down to catch it, because periods won’t stop us.
I won’t tell you how he kissed away my remaining tears as he reminded me of my worth and that I’m his, as I knelt before him once more, one hand wrapped in my hair holding me upright, as his other gripping himself as he came all over my chest, his wetness and mine sliding down my body.
I won’t tell you how he cleaned me, held me, fetched me juice and soothed my bottom with cream and then we lay curled together, limbs entangled, and thanked each other as we recovered.
But I will tell you how, when we did, we tiptoed downstairs in the dead of the night and stood naked in our kitchen folding the ridiculous amount of new school uniforms I’d washed, straight out the drier, so I wouldn’t have to wash them all over again today.
Because sometimes, amongst it all, life interrupts and derails and affects and needs attending to. Because, that’s just life.