This is not a guest post, per se, but I have the honor and privilege of having a special treat to share with you today. The words are mine, explicit details of what Roland and I did last night. The delicious voice, however, belongs to Plumptious Pea. I have followed her on Twitter since shortly after she joined us. If you want to hear more (and I know you will!) she shares her sweet, sexy voice with us on SoundCloud and Audioboo, and she also blogs on Tumblr and WordPress.
This is is so much sexier than I ever could have hoped for. Thank you so very much, Pea. I look forward to future collaborations with you, my love!
|Yup, nailed it.|
Saturday night I went to the best play party I have ever attended. Wow.
The next wasn’t even a scene or anything. After the wax, I needed to sit down and try to get my head together again. Sitting at the table in only my panties, garter belt, and stockings, Roland started lightly running his fingers all over me and teasing my nipples. I was so extremely sensitized from the hot wax that barely 2 minutes had passed before I was moaning and writhing in the chair, calling all sorts of attention to myself. For approximately the next hour or so, I was teased and tortured by him and several passers-by. When it was over I was a giggling puddle of goo who could barely lift her head off the table. I was a hot mess, for sure.
Once I recovered from that, I had a very long conversation with a wonderful lady who will be opening a kink-friendly bar in the next few months. While not the same as having a local dungeon, she will be hosting once or twice monthly private play parties on a membership-only basis. I actually think that this is even better than having a local dungeon! I also discussed with her the possibility of having a meetup akin to (or part of?) Erotic Meet and Filthy Mouths and Evil Tongues! Who knows, maybe we’ll even get a regular burlesque show, too!
For a while after that I meandered around the party, excitedly watching so many hot scenes, and mingling with friends new and old.
The finale of the evening was a group scene including me, another sub, and at least two different tops. The other sub is a good friend of mine who’d been begging me for a beating for quite some time. She was tied to the Cross and I took turns with the other tops giving her smacks and swats. Then I spooned her against the cross while I got some whacks and floggings of my own. As I was getting my beating, I continued to play with her by torturing her nipples, dragging and digging my nails into her flesh, and biting her all over her neck, back, and shoulders. I had forgotten how much I like to bite and chew on others! When the top was done beating me, I stepped away to give her a thorough ass spanking with a paddle that I absolutely loathe, but she apparently loves, both because it hurts like a motherfucker. I can’t wait to see what her ass looks like today, because I can’t imagine it’s not purple. Her neck and shoulders as well, for that matter.
|Roland’s paddle, with which I have a love/hate relationship.
He loves it, I hate it.
Sadly not long after that, it was time for the fun to end as it was closing time. I gathered up all of my things (which were strewn about from one end of the place to the other), said my goodbyes, and we headed out into the densly foggy night. Despite the damp chill of the night, I was warm and fuzzy from head to toe, inside and out. I was relaxed, nothing but contented sighs, smiles, and giggles.
On the way home we stopped for a yummy breakfast at IHOP that was probably the yummiest food I have ever had, including a gingerbread hot chocolate that was to die for! And blueberry pancakes. Mmmm…
The evening was capped with the best orgasm I’ve had in a long time. Roland fucked me hard while calling me his slut and his whore. I was so satisfied that I did not get up to do my nighttime toilette. I just rolled over with mussed hair, smeared makeup, stockings still on, and cum oozing from my pussy, and passed out.
1. Which do you enjoy more in bed, pain or pleasure?
I enjoy a combination of both. I am fond of saying that I don’t actually like pain, that I like intense sensation. To me there is a definite distinction, because pain hurts. That being said, sometimes I like when it hurts so good. I really can’t clarify it more than that.
2. Do you like being tickled during sex? Where?
To be quite honest, I loath it. However, I dare you to tell my pussy that. I get positively soaked! Roland has recently discovered that he loves to tickle me during sex and/or during pain play. He especially likes to alternate tickles with swats or bites. It completely confuses my brain and renders me useless! All I can do is laugh and moan. Terrible, I tell you!
3. Have you ever used feathers during sex?
I have had a small feather tickler for a while now but haven’t used it very often. Unfortunately it seems like all of those things fall apart in bits. So little pieces of feather fluff end up all over the place and inevitably get on my face, which causes my face to itch and results in sneezes. NOT sexy!
4. Do you like to be blindfolded during sex? Why?
It’s not something I’ve done very often, which I hereby think I need to rectify, because I actually do enjoy being blindfolded. Having to rely on senses other than sight can be quite exciting. Not knowing what your lover is going to do next can be exhilarating as the anticipation builds!
5. Have you ever used cold or heat as part of your sex play? What provided the cold or heat?
I have used both, but not really as a component of sex play. I am VERY fond of hot wax play coupled with ice. The alternating hot/cold is one of the yummiest experiences I’ve ever had!
6. Do you enjoy being spanked, giving spankings, or both?
YES! 😀 You can see/read details of this all over my blog. There’s even a label/tag for it. 😉
7. Do you have a safeword? Have you ever used it?
I don’t have one specific “stop” safeword. We use the “safety lights”: green for more, yellow for ease off/slow down, red for stop. I have never needed to use any of those, personally, in any of my play time. I’ve been fortunate to be with tops who were able to read my body language well enough to not push me too far beyond what I can take.
A few strikes in, the first of many moans escaped my lips. I lifted my head from my arms so that I could uncross and wrap them around the upper arms of the cross, gripping them lightly. The best part of our session had finally begun. I was completely warmed up and my flesh yearned for for more. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Everything beyond me, him, the flogger, and the Cross pressed against my body ceased to exist. I alternated between melting into the wood and pushing myself away from it, to meet his strikes halfway.
I don’t know how long he continued with what I only later discovered were just the tails of my favorite flogger (it FELT like a single tail!!!), but he stopped only long enough to quickly change implements. Next came a hard smack with my leather paddle. I didn’t have to look back to see what it was; I could tell by the sound it made. Again, this was an implement I loved using on others, but hadn’t had much experience receiving. My ass was on fire by this point and each firm slap only accentuated it. I tried to turn my cheeks away, but he planted his hand against the center of my back to hold me in place while he paddled me extensively.
|I love seeing stars|
A short time later, he lifted his hand and stepped away for a moment. I was trying to catch my breath when I was distracted by cries of real agony elsewhere in the dungeon to my right. I stole a glance in that direction to see if I could determine the source. My eyes were met by the asses of two young girls bent over a table. Blood was flowing freely down their cheeks. Instantly I became woozy at the sight and turned my head away. In addition I felt like a complete wuss for thinking the trials of my own ass were bad. Little did I know how much worse they were going to get.
My torture began in earnest then, as Roland was right there again, this time with the riding crop in his hand. As if he had radar to guide him, he set to smacking me with the crop all of the spots that hurt the worst, also targeting my super-sensitive, soft inner thighs. My tears leaked in abundance then, wetting my cheeks even as my pussy felt as if would flood. I writhed and jerked as he used the cane portion across the backs of my thighs and calves. When I danced from one foot to another, he immediately brought the crop down on the soles of my feet. Without actually leaving the cross, I tried to move my body as far away from him as possible, to free myself from the endless litany of his strikes.
What happened next is a moment that will be forever frozen in time in my heart and mind. I cannot imagine that the perfection of that one instant can ever be equaled. Thinking of it right now, more than two months later, sends shivers down my spine, blankets my skin in gooseflesh, and makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Roland stepped close enough that his body was against mine but barely touching. He put one hand on the back of my neck, leaned in to my ear, and uttered a barely-audible, single word, “Behave.”
With no hesitation whatsoever, I halted all movement. My tears stopped. Where my nerves had previously felt jangled by the pain I was undergoing, they were stilled. My pulse slowed and my breath eased. I calmly leaned against the Cross as I had in the beginning. Not an ounce of tension remained in my entire body. It was like I was a terribly wrinkled shirt that had been smoothed all at once. I have never in my life experienced anything like it.
I could not tell you a single thing about what he did to me after that. There’s no way for me to even begin to guess how much longer I remained on the Cross. All I remember is that eventually he was done. I only knew it was over when he came up behind me, turned me around, and enveloped me in his arms. I rested my head on his shoulder and I felt like I was home.
He held me and comforted me for some time and then tilted my chin up to face him. He tenderly kissed my forehead, my eyes, my cheeks, and finally my lips. He squeezed me tightly.
I started to shiver then, not with desire, but with cold. The world around me came back into focus and I realized I was standing mostly naked in the middle of a warehouse. I was also getting dizzy. “I need to sit down.”
Roland gently escorted me to a nearby couch after first grabbing a towel for me to sit on and a blanket to wrap around me. (The Woodshed is excellently supplied for aftercare and comfort.) He asked if I would like a cup of coffee and I only nodded, as I was not quite yet capable of speech. He returned in no time and I gladly accepted and sipped the hot liquid. I was a happy puddle of girl.
When I’d mostly recovered a few minutes later, I saw that he was protectively standing a few feet away, watching a fire-cupping scene at a nearby table. (Something I tried a bit later, but didn’t care for. A tale for another time.) I looked up at him and I felt that everything about my countenance exuded love. He finally looked down and noticed. With an embarrassed grin, he inquired, “What’s that face for?”
“This face?” I said, circling a finger around my visage. “You don’t recognize this face?” Again I circled.
“No, what is that?”
“This is my ‘worshiping you’ face, Sir,” I replied.
When I nodded to the affirmative, he told me to prove it. I asked how and he pointed to the floor in front of him. I was on my knees before him faster than he could blink an eye. I beamed up at him from my new lower vantage point.
He pointed to his feet. “Kiss them,” he commanded.
Without sparing a second’s thought about it, I leaned down and lovingly kissed each of his shoes. Never before had I publicly, or even privately, given myself over so willingly and completely to another. I had been broken. For the first time in my life, I felt owned. I felt like I belonged to someone. I felt like I belonged with someone. I felt whole.
|twisted suede tails|
Yes, I know Valentine’s Day was a few weeks ago, but I’ve been running a bit behind on things. I’m looking to get that resolved this week. So without further ado, let me tell you about all that my VDay had in store for me.
For most of the day at work, I chatted online with my friend Luscious (no, that’s not her real name). She was going through some difficult times at home and needed a shoulder to cry on. I invited her to come over after I got home from work, which she insistently declined although I repeatedly offered. She said that she didn’t want to intrude upon our romantic evening. I assured her that there were no special plans to no avail. When I emailed Roland to verify that he did not have any special plans and to see if he minded company, he replied cryptically. Something to the effect that if there were plans, having company wouldn’t necessarily affect them, he would just need to know as soon as possible. I was a bit surprised. At any rate, it didn’t matter because she said no.
Even though I had to work late, I still got home from work a little bit earlier than had been anticipated. As a result, I caught Roland in the middle of making dinner. He was making my favorite recipe, Publix Apron’s Party Chicken, along with some rice and broccoli (my favorite veggie). He poured me a glass of my favorite wine, Barefoot Moscato, while I waited for dinner to be ready. Once it was done, he and I sat at the table and enjoyed our meal together, discussing the day’s events. We finished dinner and went to our usual post-dinner stations: our computer desks (which are corner desks set up adjacent on one side, so we were next to each other).
After a bit, I had to go to the restroom. Upon entering our restroom I let out a loud squeal of delight as I discovered the gift he had left for me, a Winnie-the-Pooh Pillow Pet. I know he put it there because usually when I come home from work I have to pee and immediately go to the bathroom after our hello kisses. However, on this day I’d been home two hours before I had to go. I returned to my desk, snuggling Pooh and giggling like a little girl. He had a big smile on his face to see it. I cuddled Pooh for the rest of the night but what I didn’t know was that there were many more surprises yet to come!
|It’s a pillow! It’s a Pooh! It’s a Pillow Pooh!|
Tuesday is our day to catch up on The Walking Dead, so we went upstairs to the loft to watch with me still clinging tightly to Pooh. Since it’s only an hour-long show, usually after that we’ll watch a movie or go back downstairs to our computers, but it was starting to get late and we were tired. So we turned everything off and headed to the bedroom.
I went into the bathroom to complete my before-bed bathroom routine. Sometimes that can be a lengthy process, if Roland is already asleep and all I will be doing is going to bed and sleeping afterward. But with it being VDay, I was at least hoping to get some sex. So I made rather quick work of it. When I opened the bathroom door and stepped out into our bedroom, Roland had laid out on the end of the bed a small array of toys from my toybag: a paddle, 2 floggers, and a riding crop. I felt weak with excitement at the sight. And instantly wet. I looked up at him and smiled.
Without a word he undressed me and turned me around to face the wall. I folded my arms in front of my chest for support and leaned against it. My pussy quivered with anticipation. He did not keep me waiting but for a moment before he used the lightest flogger to begin lashing my back. It felt like soft caresses on my skin. It was a purple and black leather flogger with soft buckskin tails about 18″ long. He started off slowly, not having much confidence as he had never flogged me before. Although slow and methodical, he found his rhythm after only a few swings. My slightly nervous tension evaporated and I melted against the wall.
The buckskin flogger is really only heavy enough for a warm-up and he felt it. He laid it back on the bed and picked up the heavier black suede leather flogger with tails a few inches shorter. He tried a few test swings into the palm of his hand to get a feel for it and then took it to my back. This one is a good mix between between thuddy and stingy and I liked it a lot. With each hit, I felt the heat spread across my back and shoulders. For a complete novice, he was really doing a very nice job and I rewarded him with happy sighs and moans.
He had sufficiently worked my back so that he was ready to move on to his area of growing expertise, my ass. Still using the flogger he whipped across my cheeks from side to side. He changed directions and lashed from top to bottom with criss-crossed motions. He swung from underneath to get my undercheeks. Then he put the flogger aside and switched to the leather paddle with star-shaped cutouts, each smack harder than the last.
I was lost in the growing fire of my cheeks, which was getting painful enough that tears were gathering in the corners of my eyes. Next he decided to change to the crop, to give specific attention to my most tender spots. My whimpers grew more urgent with each stinging contact. Throwing the crop to the side he started using his bare hand, the heaviest tool of them all. Each time he hit me, he gave a little grab and dragged his fingertips to increase the flames. I was so wet I felt it dripping from between my legs.
Either he sensed the wetness or could no longer restrain himself because he beating stopped and I heard his zipper. Before I even had the chance to gasp, his cock was rammed into my pussy. I was soaked and therefore there was no resistance and only the barest hint of friction. He pounded into me so hard that my face was banged against the wall. I could not contain my cries of pleasure.
I felt his hand in my hair at the nape of my neck. As soon as he curled his fingers and had a tight grasp, he used his grip to swing me around so that I was bent over the bed. My face was smothered in the bunched-up comforter at the foot of the bed and the discarded, now-forgotten toys pressed into my chest as he shoved his cock as deep as it could go. His heavy balls swung to throw more weight into each thrust.
Still not satisfied with our situation, he pulled back and stood me up. I have no idea when or how, but he had managed to lose all of his clothes by this point, save for his socks. He slid those off his feet and grabbed my hand. He led me to the back door of our bedroom, which leads out to the deck. My pulse quickened because there is not much that I enjoy more than being fucked outside. I just can’t decide if I enjoy it most in the warm, sunshiny daylight or the cool quiet of the night. Once we got outside, he did not stop but instead pulled me toward the steps leading down into the back yard. Again my excitement stepped up a notch because I imagined lying down in the ferns. He also did not stop once we got to the yard and continued to pull me further along until we reached the driveway. I thought my heart was going to explode.
We are the last house on our street and the road essentially dead ends in our driveway at the foot of a hill. This is where he parks his 1995 Ford Mustang. At the top of the hill is a streetlight that spills illumination down onto his car. He finally pushes me up against his trunk and forces me to bend over. We are in full view if our neighbors should decide to look out any of their side windows or if a stray car should make a wrong turn and venture down our street. Holding my upper body against the car, he did not waste any time shoving his rock-hard cock into my throbbing pussy.
After all of the buildup to get to this point, unfortunately he was not able to last for very much longer. Because we were trying to keep my pussy as fresh as possible for the upcoming epic weekend (a story to be told in a near future post), we had agreed that he would not be filling my cunt until after our trip. He jerked himself out of me, pointed his pulsing member at his car tire, and groaned as his body was overcome by a shudder while he began to shoot his load. Not wanting to waste his precious cum which I rarely get to swallow, I dropped down to my knees to catch it in my mouth. I sucked and swallowed every drop until there was none left to give.
When as I struggled to stand back up my legs were weak and rubbery beneath me, threatening to give out, so I kind of just collapsed my weight on the car for a moment.
Knowing I would need a bit of assistance, he came to me, gave me his arm to lean on, and escorted me back up the stairs to our bedroom. He closed the back door behind us and led me to the bed. I reclined on the bed, expecting that I would be able to rest and catch my breath. Much to my surprise he was still sporting an enormous erection. He is not one to be so eager for another go so quickly. We’d really had no downtime yet. He stood at the edge of the bed, spread my legs taking one on each side of his hips and entered me again.
This time was slower, more relaxed. He fucked me less urgently, taking time to alternately caress my face, fondle my breasts, suck on my nipples, and look into my eyes. For the first time since our playtime began, he gave me a long, sensual kiss. I moved further back so that he could climb onto the bed and on top of me. With him above me, I wrapped my legs around his waist and matched the rhythm of his thrusts by lifting my hips toward him. His face flushed bright red and I knew he was ready to cum again. He slid out of me and spewed hot cum onto my belly. Then he flopped down onto the bed next to me while I snagged a washcloth from the bedside nightstand to clean up.
After I tossed the used washcloth to the side, I rolled onto my side to face him. I was blown away to discover that his cock was still standing at attention. When I remarked on it and asked if he was still not done, he replied, “I guess not. Do you think you can handle any more?” I responded with a huge grin and got on all fours. That was the only answer he needed. He crawled around and kneeled behind me, pushing his cock once more into my aching cunt. Only a few minutes passed before I felt his body stiffen and he pulled out to shoot even more cum across my entire back. He leaned to grab the discarded washcloth and wiped it away before catching himself. “Damn, I should have taken a picture. You should have seen the way my jizz contrasted against the red of your back.”
That was enough to make him feel the need to plunge his cock into my cunt again, in hopes to recreate the shot. My whole body was shaking by then, and I have no idea how I was able to still able to hold myself up. I hate to admit the poor shape I am in, and while I have no complaints about his stamina or the length or frequency of our usual sessions, I was absolutely not used to fucking this long almost nonstop. Usually we go for anywhere from quickies lasting 15 minutes to longer bouts of 30-45 minutes. Not including the half hour of beatings, we’d been at it for at least an hour and a half. Yet he still wasn’t done!
At the exact moment that I was going to beg for mercy because I didn’t think I could take any more, he pulled back just enough that his cock was out of my snatch and rested it up against the crack of my ass, like a hot dog in a bun. His final load spilled out of his tip and ran down my cheeks. He wiped it away, leaving a slightly sticky feeling to my entire tender backside.
My poor old hips were locked from being held in this position for too long, which was the biggest agony of all. He gingerly rolled me off my knees and flipped me over to my back. Once on my back he had to grab my ankles one by one and pull each sharply to straighten my legs. Flat on my back at last, every part of my body felt twitchy and achy but the only thing I could complain about was the receding pain of my hips. I had not felt so sated in a long, long time. And I hadn’t even had a single orgasm the whole night. Honestly, I didn’t need one and I think it would’ve just been too much.
He could see that I could barely hold my eyes open by this time. I was wiped and completely blissed-out. He leaned over me and kissed me sweetly. “And I bet you thought that Pooh was going to be your biggest surprise tonight. Happy Valentine’s Day, schmoopie. I love you.” I was able to mumble out, “I love you, too, Big Poppa,” and with that, I was done. (However, he had not finished yet. He still managed to masturbate to one more orgasm after I’d passed out.)
As I’ve mentioned a few times recently, the weekend before last, I made my first trip ever to a public dungeon. While I have not yet had a chance to detail the experience in my own words, I give you now the words of my love about the evening in question. Please look for my perspective shortly.
The sights and sounds washed over us as we crossed the threshold of the dungeon. The sharp crack of leather on flesh and cries of ecstatic pain penetrated through the din of the crunchy guitar chords piped in via the soundsystem. Everywhere there were toys being used – of both the inanimate and the human varieties.
In the far corner an older fellow in a kilt and tall boots was flogging a nearly naked woman’s back on the St. Andrew’s Cross. Near the door another woman was laid face down on a table with her legs open while her partner tortured her thighs and nether regions with firm, bare-handed slaps. In the center of the room, the dungeon’s owner was suspending two nude ladies in a lattice-work of white ropes from a metal hook hanging down from the ceiling.
For everyone in our group, this was our first trip to the Woodshed, and it was a lot for us all to take in. The more vanilla and inexperienced among us simply had to find a safe place to stand and soak it up for a bit. Others in our group, however, felt like children stepping into the biggest candy store they had ever seen. My girl, T, was of course among this latter group.
It was a busy Saturday night, so all of the stations were currently in use. This was probably for the best as there was so much to absorb, and this gave everyone time to process everything we were seeing and hearing. Eventually, however, the kilted gentleman unbound his partner from the cross. The scene had ended and he wrapped her lovingly in a blanket and led her away to the couches.
As a group, the seven of us made our way over to the now vacant cross. Nearby was an old-fashioned shoe-shine bench used for bootblacking. I perched there for a better view of the happenings in the room and watched as my girl helped prepare her intended victim for a beating. Once her friend was in place, T turned to me and asked if she could be next on the Cross – with my hand swinging the toys. I agreed, then settled back to alternately watch the scene in front of me and to scan the room for other ongoing scenes.
I was watching a young athletic fellow flog a naked blonde on a nearby pommel horse when I heard T call my name. She had finished with her friend and was now ready to take her place. I stepped down to examine the spread of toys that she had been using. I still had limited experience with inflicting pain on her so we discussed the implements and the nuances of each. She also advised me of the order in which she might prefer to receive them.
While I continued to survey the toys, she removed her blouse and skirt, revealing a black bra and delicate black lace panties that perfectly framed her round cheeks. Black thigh-high stockings completed the look. The bra came off as well before she turned her back to me and cradled her head in her own arms against the hard wood of the Cross.
As a starter I grabbed the smallest flogger, which was appropriately black and blue leather. I stepped back and began striking her about the shoulders for a warm up. The flogger was light and speedy, but didn’t give me a very satisfying feeling when it impacted her bare flesh. I tried different angles, different speeds, and switching my target area to her smooth ass cheeks. I needed something bigger. Heavier.
I picked up the next flogger in line, which had soft purple and black buckskin tails twice as long as the previous one, and gave it a few test swings on my open palm. Then I returned my attention to her backside. More rhythmic slapping of soft leather on softer skin. Her shoulders were becoming slightly rosy, as were the cheeks hanging out of the black lace panties. But it still wasn’t enough.
The next flogger I chose was one that I had used on her just a few days prior – Valentine’s Day to be exact. This is one that I liked best and was most comfortable with. It was heavier and thicker than the other two, made from black leather suede with tails a couple of inches shorter than the last. I continued the beating. After a few minutes, I paused and pulled one of her pigtails back so that I could kiss her on the lips. Then I rubbed her down and continued the flogging. I changed pace and technique. Up to this point I had been using forward and backhand swings. Now I gathered the tails of the flogger in to my free hand instead and snapped it on her ass – much like popping someone with a rolled up towel.
She jumped, and the dungeon faded into the background.
I lost track of time as I continued to make her dance and writhe on the cross. Angry red blotches began to appear on her ass as I continued to pop it with the flogger. I don’t know where I was – I found a place inside my head that I had never visited before. It was scary and dark, but also warm and relaxing.
From the flogger I moved to the leather paddle. It made a gratifying slapping sound each time it impacted her rosy cheeks and the backs of her thighs. Her dance had begun to be more frantic as each impact caused her to reflexively shift away from me, but I held her firmly to the wood.
I gave up the paddle in favor of the riding crop now, precision-stinging tender spots – the angry red blotches on her ass, the inside of the thigh. She raised her foot as I struck the back of her knee. I struck the back of the other knee, and again the foot came up off the floor as a new step was added to her dance. I grabbed her outstretched ankle and popped the bottom of her foot with the crop. She pulled away – almost completely away from the Cross.
I placed my hand on the back of her neck. I leaned in close and uttered a single word just loud enough for her to hear.
Something between a sigh and a moan escaped her lips as she lowered her head into her arms and visibly melted into the wood of the St. Andrew’s Cross.
The beating continued with the riding crop – much the same as it had before, but this time, her flinching dance had ceased completely. After a few more minutes I sensed that she had enough and I gently caressed her pink shoulders, rubbed the bruised cheeks, and turned her towards me to kiss her gently and hold her.
She gazed up into my eyes for a long moment.
“What’s that look for?” I asked.
“Don’t you know this face?” she asked in return.
“No. Tell me.”
“This is my ‘worshipping you’ face,” she stated.
“Prove it,” I demanded, as I stepped back and pointed to the floor between us.
Slowly, she got down on her knees, then looked up at me expectantly.
“Kiss them,” I commanded, pointing at my shoes.
Without a word or a second of hesitation, the brassiest, most independent woman I’ve ever known, prostrated herself before me.
Even now, reading this for the countless time, it still makes me giggle and glow. And want to curl up at his feet where I belong.
Follow along to my perspective of those events.