A Wife in the City

I'm addicted to the inability of thoughts to overtake me and control my life. I'm addicted to the feeling I know I'll have all day tomorrow, a strange serenity that overtakes me. All other means of pain go away and he only has the cane, he hits my ass again and again, I am certain he's turned the cane around once or twice and hit my ass with the curved handle. I'm surprised this has not happened sooner, but finally my tears come. They flow down my face underneath the black tank top that covers it, but still the beatings come. I whisper his name through my tears. I feel like that beaten rug again. Another arbitrary amount of time goes by and the caning doesn't stop. One hits my upper back so hard it felt like he just swung a baseball bat at me. The thud reaches my chest plate and the pain pulsates through my extremities. I'm nothing more than a rag doll at this point, a piñata.

"20 minutes and everyone needs to be out the door!" We hear a loud voice announce.

I barely even hear it, I am not even here anymore. I'm not sure if when he unchains me I'll be able to hold myself up. He has at me for another five minutes. He takes my tank top off of my face. I see that the other couple has at least not been scared off by my screams. He rubs my face, shoulders, back and everywhere. Each punishment is felt again and I moan out. My hands come undone and he pulls my leash and has me kneel and wait. I breath weekly, I'm exhausted and brainless. I take my rest as he cleans up and then he pulls me to a stand again. The club has very few people but I see two men watching me intently at the edge of the ropes. He pulls me to the bathroom which has a large opening with sinks and a mirror. He slips my dress over my head.

"Your makeup needs to be fixed," He says.

I turn and almost bump into the couple with the small spankings.

"Excuse me," I say to the guy

"No, no you're just fine," he replies.

I look in the mirror and I see that I have cried my eyeliner down my face. I'm shaking and barely able to stand as I get a paper towel wet and clean up my eyes. When I'm finished, I walk back out to him, he sits down on a chair and puts me on my knees at his feet. He puts my head on his lap and turns my ears and then I am laying on his lap. He pets my head and we sit quietly together for a few minutes. He stands up and takes my leash off my neck. A woman is walking through the club kindly asking everyone to leave because they've closed. I put my hooded long sweater on, the sweater is just longer than my dress. We walk through San Francisco at 2 AM and I feel so refreshed so mellow, so relieved of anything that might stress me out. A black woman driving by yells out at me, "nice legs girl!!" I don't know why the comment feels good, but it does. We hold hands and walk through the city back to our hotel. The moment we get in the room he puts his hand on the back of my neck and walks me to the edge of the bed and puts me on my knees. I have absolutely zero energy to fight him whatsoever, I'm so overly tired but I know I'm not done yet.

"All of that attention I gave you has worn me out," he says.

He pulls me back to a stand, lays down on the bed, pulls his cock out takes my head in his hand. Up and down he pushes and pulls my head. He clutches my hair as I suck his cock just the way he likes. My hand is around the base of my shaft. I stand on the side of the bed bending over him so I can suck his cock until he cums deep in my mouth. He enjoys the fuck out of it, as it's a rare thing for me to do. We clean up a little bit, get sweatpants and sweaters on, I bring a glass of red wine, and a joint. We go downstairs, outside the hotel, sit on a bench and watch the ever moving city go by in front of us until 4:30 am.

Fuck I love this city.