tagBDSMSarah's Way Ch. 02

Sarah's Way Ch. 02

bykylejer©

Note: This is actually the third chapter in this series. The first chapter was called "Silent Submission." The title was changed because there are other series with that old title. I realize this relationship is different than what actually takes place among people devoted to the BDSM lifestyle, but it's a theme I wanted to explore.

*

It was coming up on a week since the initial caning that marked the beginning of Sarah's dominance of me. In the back of my mind was the realization that sooner or later she would go back there. Both the cane and the paddle were readily available in the bedroom.

I didn't know if she would spank me again because she enjoyed it, or thought I did, but I was certain that she would do so if I made her angry.

And in any marriage you irritate one another from time to time. Oddly, the fact that she had caned me so severely and also made my balls ache by crushing them under her foot did not irritate me, but seemed to draw me closer to her in a way I did not understand.

What irritated me was not being able to ask her why she did certain things, even simple things like having me get naked for dinner. She made clear in those first few days that I was not to expect her to explain what she was thinking. I was to just obey, and she would take good care of me.

And she had. She seemed to take a greater interest in what was going on in my office and progress in my hobbies, and was generally more affectionate and supportive.

But I knew another caning was coming. I wasn't sure how I would react. I didn't know why she was caning me the first time, and didn't know why I submitted. Would I be so compliant if I knew I was being punished but thought the punishment was undeserved?

I knew I would submit, but wondered if at that point her dominance would begin to irritate me instead of turn me on. Then what?

The situation didn't take long to play out. It was Friday, a day short of a week since that first caning, and I had recovered pretty well. She told me that morning that after supper she would be running to the mall to shop for a birthday present for her mom, and I would be on my own.

We had decided not to go out to eat. We just had a couple of sandwiches at home and were cleaning up when she asked, "So what are you going to do tonight?"

"I thought I'd get the tackle box cleaned up and clean my reels. Spring is about here, and I'm getting pumped for fishing season to start."

"Why don't you go to the 'Y'?" she said. "You were spending a lot of time there through most of the winter, and I could see the results. You were getting in better shape, but you haven't been there in almost a month. You're going to lose what you gained."

The YMCA membership came as an unexpected benefit from my employer and I had taken advantage of it. It had become a very minor issue between us because I had been urging her to come along with me, as I thought it was something we could do together, and we had been growing apart.

Now, I love my wife's body, even those few extra pounds that to me give her a feel of authenticity, a real woman and not some unreachable supermodel obsessed with thinness. My appeals to her to come along were honestly in the search for ways to spend some time together, not to suggest she needed to work off the pounds.

But to go back to that appeal post-caning, under life Sarah's way, was a major mistake.

"Well, I wish you would come with me," I said. "I'll admit I got a little lazy lately, but one of the reasons I was going there so much was in hopes of drawing you in to go with me. When you wouldn't come along I started to lose interest. I know I was getting in better shape, but you could stand to get in better shape, too."

I heard her gasp behind me after I said that, as I was placing some dishes in the dishwasher.

When I turned to look at her, I saw her mouth open in disbelief, her face reddening to match her hair and her green eyes widening in anger.

"Take. Off. Your. Clothes!" she said, very deliberately, emphasizing each word. In anticipation of leaving me alone for the evening, she had not had me undress, as she did at some point every night.

"Sarah, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I was just encouraging you to come with me sometime so we can spend. . ."

"Take off your clothes! Right now, right where you stand! Leave them in a pile right here, then go get your paddle!"

"Sa------." I started to say her name to make another appeal that nothing was meant by that comment -- and nothing was. But I realized quickly that my choices were to make this the critical issue and try to end this dominance and submission game over it, or to comply as ordered. To try to talk her out of it would only make things worse if I was going to ultimately comply anyway.

Still dressed for work, I pulled off my tie and started fumbling with the buttons on my shirt.

I had made a commitment. I had agreed that I would belong to her. It brought me some painful, embarrassing and even some disgusting moments, but it also brought us closer. I didn't want to go back to the way things were.

I peeled off my undershirt and started to fiddle with my belt before realizing I would have to deal with my shoes first. I bent to take them off, peeling off my socks while I was at it, then dropped my pants and stepped out of them.

I still had not looked at her as I yanked down my underwear, and turned and walked away naked, my clothes in a pile on the floor where I stood, as ordered.

She did not request the stool or the cane, so I did not bring them, only the paddle.

I found her sitting in the center of the sofa, glaring at me as I returned, with an angry and hurt look on her face.

"Here," she said. "Over my knees."

She snatched the paddle from me.

"I'm so sorry, Sarah. I didn't mean anything by that," I said as I assumed a position across my wife's knees, my hands in front of me on the floor. "I only wanted to find a way to spend more time together!"

It all happened so quickly. We had a simple but pleasant bite to eat together and were chatting about evening plans. Suddenly, in less than two minutes, I was naked and across her knees about to receive a paddling I suspected would be severe.

I could not remember how young I was the last time I was taken over my mother's knee. Even then, she never used a paddle. Then, like now, the worst part was not the pain or the anticipation of it. It was the fact that, fair or not, you had to let her do it.

Sarah said not a word in reply to my pleadings, but shut me up with the first hard blow. She was not going to warm me up slowly at first as she had less than a week before. She started out fast and furious, each blow at full force, and in rapid succession.

"Owwwww!"I shouted at the first one. Instinct started my hands back, but I quickly repented of that thought.

Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!"

"How dare you speak to me that way!" she broke her silence. "I cannot have you talk to me like that, Mark, and I won't! That is so insulting! To think that you would even think of saying such a thing to me! I am so disappointed in you!"

Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!"

It went on and on. I cried out. My legs kicked back and forth in the air; my butt squirmed as if looking for a way off her knees and out of harm's way.

"Hold still!"

Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!"

"I'm sorrrrrrrry! Pleeeeeease stop! Sarah! Please!" I was crying by then. The pain just wouldn't end.

She suddenly stopped. "I can't allow this, Mark," she said after a pause, as if searching for something to say. I realized she stopped not for me, but for her, to rest her arm and catch her breath.

I was about to fill the void with more pleadings, hoping to end it, but before I could get a word out, she resumed.

Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!" Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!"

When she got tired again, she stopped.

"Get up!" Sarah said calmly but sternly.

She stood up with me, then grabbed my nuts hard. I tried to pull away by bending at the waist in the instinctive male protective move, but she had them firm and hard. She pulled back as I tried to pull away and the pain shot through me. She started to walk away, and I followed to keep pressure off my package. I was led by my balls to a corner of the room and forced to my knees.

She disappeared momentarily and came back with a box of tissues, which she threw in front of me. I reached for them immediately, wiping and blowing my nose, as she went away again.

I didn't have much time to clean up from my paddling-induced crying. She returned from the kitchen with my tie. She pulled my hands behind me and tied them at the wrist.

"This is to keep you from touching yourself while you kneel here with your ass bright red like some sort of room decoration," Sarah said. "Since obviously being spanked turns you on, I don't want you to get the idea that you were spanked to give you any pleasure."

She finished tying my hands, then moved forward, on one knee beside me, resting her right hand on my back. I was still avoiding looking at her.

"Now, Mark, I spanked you because I'm angry with you, to punish you for what you said. You said you're sorry, but that's not good enough. If you want things to be right between us again, then you have to think of a way to make it right, to show how much you regret what you've done and to show that you really want to make things right for me."

And so I knelt facing the corner, like a spanked little boy, only with my hands tied behind me with my own necktie and my cock mysteriously pointed at the corner.

It went down before too long. So did the lingering pain, in my ass and my balls.

Sarah got ready to leave on her excursion. I feared she would order me to remain in the corner until she returned.

She untied my hands after about an hour.

"Ok, you can get up now. I'm going to do my shopping. Think about what I said. You are not to get dressed. You can go ahead and fool with your fishing lures naked if you want, or go to the 'Y' naked, but you are going to stay naked, probably for the whole weekend. As a matter of fact, after tomorrow, you're going to be really naked."

Sarah left me wondering what she meant by that, and thinking about what I could do to make up for my transgression, as she ordered.

I rested from my paddling, fooled around with my fishing reels for a time, then did some minor preparations for Sarah's return.

As expected, when she came back she made no move to seek me out, but changed and went to her usual spot on the couch and turned on the TV. That's generally what she did when she was upset with me, before she started spanking me.

After she settled in, I went to her silently with a small tub of water, a washcloth, some lotion and a towel. I sat at her feet, pulled off her socks and started to wash her feet. She had worn sandals out, the weather being warm enough now.

Sarah made no comment, nor did she move to stop me. After I washed and dried her lovely feet, I lay flat on the floor, becoming a footrest for her. I embraced one foot to my upper chest and started to delicately kiss the other.

Yes, I have to admit, I do have something of a foot fetish, because I like the look and soft feel of women's feet. But it never extended to a desire for toe-sucking. Nevertheless, I kissed the tip of her big toe, then took it in my mouth and sucked on it gently, then circled it with my tongue, cleaning it thoroughly, and licking between her toes.

I took the next toe in my mouth and did the same, working my way across her foot, sucking on each toe in its turn. Then I embraced that foot while I did the other.

I held her feet to my face and kissed the bottoms softly. Still not a word transpired between us.

I sat up, took the lotion and rubbed it between by palms, and dabbed more on each foot individually. I gave her the most sensuous foot massage I knew how.

After an hour of worshipping her feet, with her casually and silently watching TV, I picked up each foot and planted light sensual kisses on each.

"I'm sorry about what I said, Sarah. Please forgive me. I want to make things right with you."

"Thank you very much, Mark. That felt lovely. But I think you really love worshipping my feet. You're not going to make things right with me by doing something you love."

I was crushed.

I looked down, picked up the things I had brought, and took them away to clean up.

In the bedroom alone, I tossed the bottle of lotion against a wall, punched the mattress on the bed, gritted my teeth and held back an erupting tantrum.

I had done nothing wrong. I was encouraging us spending time together!

In repayment, she paddled me into a crying fit, stuck me in a corner like a naughty boy and made me stay naked all night.

I repaid that by worshipping her feet, even sucking on her toes, something I did not particularly enjoy. Yet she rejected that kindness and wanted more.

I had to hold back from making noise that would draw her to me, and draw more ire from her, having felt what that was like.

The old resentments came rising back, for the first time since agreeing to do things Sarah's way. I long feared resentments would consume our relationship, but submitting myself to her seemed, at least for a week, to set those resentments aside. We had grown closer, despite the pain she sometimes inflicted.

I reached another decision point, as I did when I first made that cane for her and bent over that stool. I recalled how that wiped out the resentments, up until now.

In a calmer state, I thought about whether the resentments would consume us, or if my silent submission would save us.

How much I really adored her, even after that late afternoon paddling, brought me back to reality, and to what I really craved.

The knot in my stomach tightened more than ever before; I felt sick to my stomach thinking about it.

But I picked it up from its place, lying flat along the top of the bookcase in the bedroom, and carried it out to her, with the stool in the other hand. I placed the stool in the middle of the room.

I presented the cane stretched out on my open palms, my eyes cast down.

"I'm so sorry about what I said, Sarah," I pleaded. "Please cane me."

She took the cane from my hands.

"Thank you," she said. "I will. It really means a lot to me that you brought me this and asked me to cane you. That really shows how much you want things to be right, and shows that you realize belonging to me is what you really want. I really think we're going to be all right. This is a big moment, Mark.

She handed the cane back to me.

"But I'm not going to cane you now," she said. "Put the cane away, but leave the stool there. I want it there as a reminder of what's to come.

"I don't want a caning to interfere with what I have in mind for tomorrow," she said, seeming to think out loud. "I'll tell you what, come to me Sunday night and ask for an appointment for your caning. We'll figure it out then."

She came into the bathroom with a bright and cheerful attitude when I was getting ready to shave the next morning. She put her arms around me from behind and pressed her robe-clad body against me. I was still naked, of course. She ran her hands along my chest and belly and pressed her cheek against my back.

"Mmmmm," she moaned. "How do you feel today?" she asked, with a hand descending down, rubbing over my cock and massaging my balls.

"Pretty good," I said, though wary of what was up with this display of affection. "I think I slept pretty well."

"Good," she said, pulling her hands back and opening her robe. She pressed her now-nude front against my back, rubbing her breasts against me while her hands went back to work on my chest and cock.

"I need you to be strong and well-rested, because I'm going to fuck you tonight," she said. My cock started to rise as soon as she touched it, but with those words and those magnificent mounds rubbing against me I was at full staff very quickly.

"Why wait until tonight?" I said. "I'm ready now."

She chuckled.

"I'll decide when you're ready. Why don't you go to the 'Y' this morning? I'll need you back here this afternoon. Don't worry about changing and showering there. Your butt looks fine. The paddle doesn't leave obvious marks like the cane does."

She pulled away, closed her robe and left me to shave and anticipate some hot sex later. I hoped that she would let me mount her or take her from behind like we used to do, but I expected under the new order of things she would be on top. That was OK, though, for I always loved that position too, especially how her breasts bounced as she rode me.

So I went to the 'Y' and it felt good to work out again. We agreed to meet for lunch, having a couple of margaritas each with our meals at a fine Mexican restaurant. Sarah continued her bright and cheerful attitude, reached out and held my hands across the table, even slipped off her sandal and teased my leg with her foot.

We talked like normal married couple talk. I studied those bright green eyes as we conversed and fell more and more in love with this new woman who could both thrill me with her charms and punish me with severely.

Things seemed normal enough that I braved a question.

"So is it going to be sex your way tonight?" I asked.

The smile faded from her face and she looked seriously at me.

"Everything is my way now, Mark," she said. "I thought we were clear on that. Maybe I need to hear it from you again."

I felt bad about having disappointed her with the question and cast my eyes down. I lifted her hand up and kissed it tenderly, then whispered, soft enough to be sure no one else could hear.

"I love belonging to you, Sarah."

Her smile returned.

Out in the parking lot before we got in our separate cars, she checked her watch. "You have about four hours before I'll need you. I have to run and pick up a few things. When you go home it's OK if you want to work outside or something, but if you go in remember to undress. Remember you bought yourself a lot of naked time last night."

She gave me a kiss and announced that she would see me later, then took off.

This was so much different than the dominance and submission relationships I had read about in stories, where the mistress is always stern and the sub always subservient with no life at all except that of the humiliation of servitude. Sarah was being more of a loving wife than she had been in years, yet at the same time had a matter-of-fact attitude about my obedience to her and submission to whatever she wanted to do to me.

I found both sides of her personality extremely appealing and looked forward to whatever our time together later would bring me.

Be careful what you wish for.

It was about 4 in the afternoon when I was naked and building a rod -- a real fishing rod, not a cane for beating me -- in my basement workshop when she called to me.

"Mark, wrap up what you're doing. I need you upstairs in the main bathroom."

As I approached I was puzzled by the presence of the vacuum cleaner outside the bathroom door.

Wearing an older robe, Sarah stood holding a barber's electric razor plugged in. Sitting on the counter next to her were a ladies' shaving razor and a can of shaving cream. I was startled, but had no time to think about what was about to happen or to ask what was going on -- as if asking questions about her intentions was permitted.

"Ok, just stand still and I'll tell you how and when to move," she said as soon as I stood still and looked around. She turned on the razor immediately and applied it to my chest. With a quick swipe of the buzzing instrument she carved a path down the middle of my chest, then started to work to the left.

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bykylejer© 13 comments/ 64223 views/ 16 favorites

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