Posted in Fiction, Uncategorized

A Spanking Story- The Mentor #NSFW, 18+

Hello, my WordPress friends!

I would like to introduce you to a good friend that I made here on WordPress.  While he isn’t a blogger (as of yet), he reads many of our blogs and goes by the screen name, Implacable.  Implacable is not only dominant to his sweet wife of many years, he is an incredible author of my favorite genre (duh, spanking)!  He has graciously allowed me to share one of his stories with my audience, so without further ado, I present to you… The Mentor…..happy reading! 🙂

The Mentor

A Short Story By Implacable

Well this story might start off a little slow, but bear with me.  I think it might be worth your patience.  But be warned, there isn’t a smacked bottom for a page or two!  It might take me a while to write this story as it comes at a cost.  The chair in front of my computer has a triangular wooden bar on the seat.  It’s positioned front-to-back so that my legs fall either side of it and it bisects my sex and buttocks.  The point of the triangle is quite sharp and my buttocks barely touch the seat of the chair so that I am virtually suspended on the damn thing.  Thus when seated to write my story, I am effectively “riding the horse”.  As any woman will tell you who has experienced this little invention of the devil, it is excruciating.

Why do I sit on this horrid contraption?  I am required to do so by my mentor.  He has decided it would be useful in training my concentration.  Being so painful, it is much more difficult to concentrate, and therefore by achieving that state (of concentration), I am able to focus my mind so much better … so far for a few minutes at a time.  Then I squirm a bit, and fresh shards of pain course through me.  I have to admit, I have noticed at work that I can block out distractions far more easily than I used to, but the learning is hard won.  It is worse than usual this morning because Sir whipped my pussy and anus last night and I can hardly walk as it is!  It really, really hurts when Sir hits hard … and he always hits hard.  I look like a bloody duck waddling around, no dignity at all in that I assure you!  Still, enough moaning, on with my story.

People talk about the glass ceiling, and I’m sure its true in some cases that some women find themselves missing out on senior roles just because they are women.  Competing against the male clique can be hard sometimes.  I’ve never found it that way, but then, I’ve always had my mentor.  Let me tell you about this wonderful man, the “other man” in my life.

We first met when he hired me to a middle management job.  He was a senior executive at the time.  Almost from the moment we met at the interview there was something different, some special chemistry, between us.  I can remember so clearly … there were three people on the interview panel, but it was as though the other two didn’t exist.  My eyes had only been for him.  And I couldn’t tell you what it was that attracted me … not then at least, though I have a thousand reasons now.

Our relationship developed in ways both natural and somewhat unconventional.  We soon established a close working relationship.  I’m good at my job and so is he.  We naturally became easy in our working relationship, though it was always clear that he was the boss, the leader, the decision maker and I, the valued but supporting colleague.

[squirm.  Fuck this thing hurts! – Oh God, I hope he doesn’t read this because I’ll catch a real hiding and worse for swearing but it really fucking hurts!!]

I think it must have been 3 months after I’d joined the company that we had our first formal performance review.  At first it had started out as the normal difficult balancing act where he sought to praise my strengths, but to lay my short-comings before me without destroying my self-confidence.  He seemed to manage the situation with his usual aplomb, pointing out some fairly basic flaws, while leaving me feeling comfortable that I was doing very well in most departments.

After about half an hour’s discussion, the subject changed to where my career was heading.  In that discussion he suggested that I needed a mentor, someone who was senior in the company who could guide and direct me;  someone who could look out for opportunities and point out some of the pitfalls;  ideally someone who could help me correct my faults.  It must have taken me all of half a second to blurt out:

“Would you be my mentor, please Rupert?”

“If I agreed, I would need to be very hard on you.” He replied in a strangely steely voice.  A voice that threw a shiver through me.  “As I’ve just discussed with you, your main shortfall is that you need to learn to cultivate an inner strength.”

“I know you well enough to know that you will always be fair with me.  If I need to learn to be strong, then I would rather learn that from you, if you will take the trouble to teach me.”

I think I had already fallen in love with this man.  A sort of quiet unrequited love perhaps.  After all he was a married man, and happily for all I could tell.  I had no intentions of breaking that bond, you know, the women’s code and all that.

He agreed to take me on, but only on condition that I agreed to his methods.  It was then that I discovered a side of Rupert of which I hadn’t previously been aware, though perhaps I had always known that there was a stern inner core to him.  He hesitated momentarily as if weighing me up and then he told me how he believed in corporal punishment;  that if he became my mentor, I would have to learn many of my lessons through physical pain and that I would be punished severely for failure.

  1. Reality check here. I’m a well adjusted young career woman in my late 20s.  Sure still single, after all I’m bit choosy and certainly wanted more than the first unsophisticated grappling male that tried to race me to the altar as the best way to get an unpaid maid and live-in hooker.  Not that I keep my legs too tightly closed.  But as I say, I’m choosy, like any sensible girl would be these days.  I like my independence, up to a point.  So a guy that is offering to smack my bottom!  Well, I do rather like the guy, and after all, if it helps get me to the top, would it be all that bad?  Funny how I never thought to use his inclinations against him.  I was always on his side if you know what I mean.  It was only later that it occurred to me how much he must have trusted me to reveal that side of him.  I could so easily have ruined his career there and then, but after all, he was always a good judge of character, that’s one of his many strengths.

I found myself saying yes and the deal was done.

Our first session was to be after work, Friday week – he wanted me to have 10 full days to back out.  If I still wanted the gig, I was to tell him so on the Friday morning, and he would give me instructions.

Instructions?  Well what was I to know.  I’d asked the guy to be my mentor, and if that meant getting some instructions and the occasional smacked bottom so what.

I didn’t count the number of times during those 10 days that I’d decided that I really shouldn’t get involved in this.  After all there was a distinct undercurrent of sex in all of this, and I was an absolute stickler for the “no sex with the boss” rule.  But every time I thought about being under Rupert’s direct tuition, sex or no sex, I seemed to end up with damp knickers.  And the sex I had with my vibrator in bed over that 10 days was never better.

So of course I said yes on the Friday morning.  Yes, with a strange mixture of fear and excitement.  There was no doubt that he too took a jolt of pleasure from my decision.  He leaned over and kissed my brow.  I was delighted and yet dismayed.  After all, as he’d leant over the desk I’d puckered up hadn’t I – and what woman wants to have her kissing mouth all in position and then ignored.  But he had kissed me.  That was some sort of coup!

He opened his desk drawer and pulled out an envelope which he handed to me.  He told me not to open it until I got home, but that I could go home at lunch-time.  The instructions were inside and were complete.  He would see me at his place tonight.

My curiosity when I got back to my desk was insatiable.  But my resolve held.  I couldn’t work at all, I just kept thinking about that damned envelope.  At last lunch-time came and I bolted.  The drive home was mental cruelty in my opinion, but finally I got there.  I ripped the bloody envelope open in the garage … I sat in my car for 15 minutes after reading the contents.  I was in shock.

The instructions were detailed, and very explicit.  In short I was required:

  • to turn up at his home, at 8pm on the dot (address and directions clearly given)
  • wear a knee length dress … and no underwear!
  • high-heels and stockings (men! They obviously have never had to wear the bloody things.)

I had to buy a cane!  And a wooden backed hairbrush (if I didn’t have one – I didn’t, I had one of those plastic spidery things), a tawse, and a martinet.  I didn’t even know what the last two were.  I do now.  He kindly gave instructions on where to go to buy these.

If all of these weren’t enough the last thing on the list blew my mind.  I was required to have an enema and to lubricate my behind!!  Instructions to bathe and put on make up went without saying.  But preparations for anal sex were rather more than I had bargained for.  And what else could these instructions be for?  I’d signed on for a smacked bottom, not buggery!

I didn’t give up there and then, I’m rather glad to say.  But it was an awfully close run thing.  I’m a liberated woman and have tried most things, but while I’ll occasionally offer my behind to a special lover, it was a rare and special occasion and up to that point, it was never my first choice for sex.  Things change, but I wasn’t to know that then.

[… Sorry, had to go and make myself a coffee.  I didn’t need the drink so much as the excuse to get off this damn wedge!  You can’t have any idea how uncomfortable it is.  It splits my pussy lips and bores into my vulva and just ACHES, that awful bruising ache.  And its not just my pussy either, Sir whipped my inner thighs as well and the rough wooden surface rubs against them horribly.  Not to mention the fact that my anus is rather inflamed from those delicious repeated buggerings I got last night.  I can’t tell you how much this wedge hurts back there as well.  Anyway, on with the story.]

Buying the implements for my correction was a challenge in itself.  I wasn’t used to walking up to a shop assistant and asking for things with which to be spanked.  It never occurred to me that it might be construed that I could be thought of as the aggressor, but even if it had, I don’t think it would have changed my embarrassment.  I’d hardly ever been into a sex shop (well, occasionally, but it certainly wasn’t a regular thing), let alone an establishment that looked more like a wholesaler for torture equipment!

Thank God it was a young woman who served me.  I was blushing scarlet and stammering.  In the end I just showed her the instructions and pointed to the implements I needed.  She was kind.

“First time with a master?” she asked solicitously.

I was almost incapable of speech and merely nodded.

“You won’t be in a position to make judgements about the implements then I guess?”

Again I sort of bubbled.

“I’ll get some fairly standard items then.  I see that he – I presume it’s a he?”  I nodded.  “Well he hasn’t specified the type of cane, so we’ll make it a thinner one.  Nice and springy, it’ll sting like hell, but it won’t bruise so much.  If you need a heavier one, I’m sure he’ll send you back, and in my experience, doms always like to have a bit of a selection to suit the mood.”

Just what the doctor ordered, a nice chatty girl.  We girls can chat about almost anything – you blokes would fall off your chairs if you knew what we talk about when there are no guys present!  So at last, my face regained its normal hue, and I could start talking.

“You seem to know a lot about your products, have you … do you?”

“Oh yes.  I have a master and a mistress and they thrash the living daylights out of me.  I took a tawsing from Madam and a caning from Sir at lunchtime – I’ve still got some lovely marks.”  With an impish grin she turned around and twitched up her skirt to reveal a bare bottom and thighs heavily marked with a criss-cross of weals.

“Oh wow!”  Intelligent comment from me.  “Christ that must hurt, and yet you seem so matter of fact about it, even happy!”

“Of course.  I love getting walloped, it really turns me on.  You will too, once you get into.  Sure it’s painful, but it gives you one hell of a high.”  She dropped her skirt and went to fetch the items for my future chastisement.

I completed my purchases as quickly as I could and hurried out of the shop.  What on earth had I let myself in for?

Buying the hairbrush was much easier and I admit to indulging in a sensual delight feeling their smooth backs as I made my choice in the local department store.

My last call was to the chemist.  Enemas and lubricant.  Again the red face and stammering;  I couldn’t help it, I just felt like I was naked and that everyone could see my thoughts and knew just exactly what I was going to do that night.  I practically ran from the shop once I’d finished.  Heaven only knew what I was going to be like when I actually had to face Rupert again.

Face him I did.  At 8pm on the dot, I drove up to his house and knocked on the front door.  I’d been sitting in my car for fifteen minutes around the corner just to make sure I wasn’t going to be late.  Not on my first mentoring session anyway.

[I can’t stop bloody squirming and each time I do it seems to hurt more.  And now I’ve got splinters in my pussy and thighs for God sake!  Hang on while I get some tweezers.  Fucking hell I don’t know why a girl bothers with all this obedience stuff!]

A rather nice house, quite large and on a decent block of land so that there was a reasonable separation from neighbours.  Rupert is obviously doing all right and I suspected his income is rather more than he gets from his day job.  [I found out later that this was indeed the case.]

As I neared the front door, in the quiet of the night there was a strange percussive sound followed by what I could have sworn was a muffled cry.  It was followed shortly afterwards by another and then quickly again another.  Anyone would have thought someone was getting a hiding.  And it suddenly dawned on me that perhaps I wasn’t the only one that Rupert was mentoring.

The door was opened by a girl in her early twenties.  With the door open, the next WHUP was much louder as was the following cry.  Unperturbed, the girl motioned me in.

“You must be Ms Lindall.  My father told me to expect you.  Please come in.  I’ll show you to his study.”

“My name’s Felicity by the way.” She said, matter of factly.  Several further strokes delivered and the accompanying yells attested to their efficacy.

“Please wait here.  Father will call you in when he has finished dealing with mummy.”  I couldn’t believe my ears.  Here was a young woman calmly indicating that her mother was being spanked in the next room as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Felicity left me to my fate, intimating, “I’m so glad you are going to be Daddy’s new mentee.  He canes really hard, I can tell you.  But I know you’ll be better for it.”  Her parting shot as she looked at the hold-all that I was carrying, “What sort of cane did you bring?”  At my expression of astonishment she continued, “Oh Daddy always makes his mentees bring the implements for their training with them.”  My stammered reply was more or less back to the babbling stage.

What planet had I landed on for God’s sake?  Whatever one it was, it was clearly a different place to the one I was used to.  My world was clearly in need of reorganisation if I was going to take in that day’s events and make any sense of them.

Another WHUP, scream, WHUP, scream, WHUP, scream.  I counted at least another dozen.  The poor woman was clearly taking one hell of a shellacking.  And then it went quiet.  For all the sounds that I had heard, the room was reasonably well insulated and I could only hear the faintest mumbles indicating that normal speech was in progress.  Or so I thought.  There were some higher pitched noises and the occasional noise that could have been a loud sob, but I couldn’t really make them out.

After some minutes, the study door opened and I looked on probably the most important room in my life for the first time.  Large for a study, it accommodated a desk with chairs on either side, several bookcases and a display cabinet.  At the other end, a sofa and two easy chairs framed a coffee table.  At the time, I didn’t notice the hooks in the ceiling.  The carpet was a beautiful deep blue and this was echoed in the wallpaper half-way up the walls to the picture rail, with cream coloured paint to the ceilings.  Royal blue curtains with gold trimmings finished off the décor.  A man’s room, and a magnificent one at that.

[Oh God!  See how well I’ve learnt to concentrate! and hardly a squirm for ages.  Damn it to hell this thing hurts.  But on with the story.  See how I’m learning all the time.  Talk about no pain, no gain!]

Rupert stood at the door and ushered me in.  He was in a beautiful long silk dressing gown.  As far as I could see he had nothing underneath.  I felt definitely overdressed!

“Welcome Natalie.  Please come in.  I’m glad you were on time.  I apologise for making you wait, but I was completing a training session with my wife.”


Hope you enjoyed reading!



Posted in BDSM, D/s, submission

Spectacular pain! #NSFW, 18+

Hello, all!  For my fellow Americans, I hope you celebrated a lovely Labor Day weekend 😊

Ours was spectacular, spectacular!

For those familiar, we spent two nights in beautiful Lake Tahoe and took a cruise on the lake around Emerald Bay.  We experienced a little bit of everything…sun & water, night life, and pure relaxation.  We left Sunday afternoon and were able to sleep in our own bed last night with a full day of relaxation ahead of us.

Our mini-holiday was lovely, but that is not what has me grinning from ear to ear like the Cheshire cat this afternoon!  Let me set the scene…

I was relaxed this morning, enjoying my coffee, reading all of your lovely blogs and catching up on email correspondence from across the pond, when Daddy joined me.  He was wearing nothing but his boxers and a smile, and after a kiss to the forward, he ordered me up and into the kitchen to make his morning hot chocolate.  The tone of his voice gave me shivers and whispered of more to come.

Like the obedient little girl that I can be at times, I happily made his hot chocolate, and was sure to remove all of my clothing as I re-entered the room, setting his hot chocolate on the coaster by the chair.

“Good girl,” he said, giving me “the look”.  The look to which I am referring is the look that speaks of adventures to come…sexy, dark adventures.

I returned to my chair and attempted to focus on my laptop, but he just looked so damn sexy sitting there, puppies at his feet, his bare chest radiating all that is strong and male.

“Yes?” he asked, one eyebrow cocked.

“Are we going to…go to the bedroom this morning, Daddy?” I asked him, desperate for confirmation.

“You will be sucking my cock this morning, young lady, if that is what you are asking,” he said, quite sternly.

This little girl got very wet with this statement.

“Go and prepare yourself and wait for me in the corner,” he said.

I immediately obeyed and spent time cleaning and shaving myself.  If I am asked to “prepare” myself, this typically means that I can expect Daddy to make use of my most naughtiest of holes.  To prepare, I inserted a large jelly phallic shaped toy into my anus, to fully lube myself, and to ensure that I was clean.  Once prepared, I waited in the corner, fully nude, arms clasped behind my back.  I was vibrating with anticipation.  I had been needing this for so long.

When Daddy came in the room, he fisted his hand in my hair and guided me to the bed.

“Stay here,” he ordered.

My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest as I awaited his return.  When he re-entered the room, I saw he held my black leather cuffs and the double ended bolt snap that clipped them together.  It wasn’t long after that I was receiving a very sound hand spanking, standing there in front of the bed.  Daddy then bent me over the bed, holding onto my wrists, resuming the spanking.  I was soon in tears at the intensity of the spanking.  Pulling me back into a standing position, Daddy unclipped my cuffs and ordered me face down onto the bed.  My cuffs were then refastened together, as I rested on my elbows, my pinkened behind on display.  Daddy spread my thighs and returned with the riding crop.  The crop rained down on my bare bottom and thighs, bringing more cries and pleas for leniency.  I had no idea what was coming.

You see, recently I had brought up the cane to Daddy.  We have two of them.  One that is lighter and whippier, and another which is about the width of my Daddy’s thumb.  I fear this cane, but, I had asked Daddy if he might leave marks on me next time he applies it.  We have both noticed previously that I do not mark easily.  I rarely bruise even though Daddy feels that he is quite harsh with me at times. Apparently, he had decided that this was the day he would leave lasting marks of the cane on my backside.

The first stroke made me scream and brought instant tears.  I had no idea it could hurt so much!  The second was delivered a bit lower but was not delivered quite as hard.  A third stroke was placed right in between the first two.  Three sharp strokes of the cane and tears were streaming down my face.

Daddy brought his face down to mine and said, “I do this for us and because I love you” which is something he always reminds me of when he spanks me harshly.

He then set down the cane and resumed with the riding crop.  I was lost somewhere in subspace and didn’t realize he had actually stopped spanking me until I felt him spread my cheeks and insert the medium glass plug.  I tried to be a good girl and relax but ended up pleading for him to stop.  He didn’t, but he did place a vibrator against my clitoris which began a new set of sensations.

That is when my real caning began.  Daddy picked up the thinner cane and began giving me rapid strokes as I rocked back and forth on the vibrator.  I have never been so lost in subspace…the place where pleasure and pain are so intertwined it is impossible to tease them apart.  Well, it was impossible to tell them apart up until the moment Daddy resumed the spanking with the heavier cane.

I am not sure how many he gave me, but each stroke elicited screams and tears.  In between strokes, he reminded me that I was his and his alone.  He continued to draw tears as he drew sharp lines across my naked buttocks and spoke of respect and obedience.

I didn’t realize it was over, until I felt him lay down on the other side of me and unclasp my cuffs.  He pulled me into his arms and spoke the sweetest words to me, as he began to gently stroke my nipple.  The vibrator had fallen away, but the plug was still deep inside my naughty hole.  He advised me that it was to stay there until he was through with me.  What ensued next was a mind-blowing orgasm on my end, elicited by his mouth suckling my breast and his fingers manipulating my pleasure spot.  Not long after, his cock was deep in my throat and it was his turn to experience sheer bliss from his submissive.

The rest of the day was spent lounging by the pool.  I wore a skimpy black tank top and thong panties, to please Daddy with my visible marks.  All in all, this was a fantastic weekend.

I just want to take a moment to thank you for your readership!  And to my friends on the East Coast, please stay safe.  From what I read, this hurricane is no joke.

Love always,


Posted in spanking

Favorite position? #NSFW, 18+

What is your favorite spanking position?

Personally, it is hard to commit to just one as there are so many delicious ways that a naughty submissive can be positioned for discipline.  Pictured above is one of my many favorites.  I love that sense of humility when you are ordered face down over a piece of furniture, with your bare bottom raised behind you, ready for a thrashing.  Knowing that you are very much “on display” to your disciplinarian….

Happy Sunday, my friends!  Would love to hear about your favorite position 😊

Love, nora

Posted in D/s, spanking

Hot Summer Nights #NSFW #18+ only please

Please discontinue reading this post if the description of steamy sex-capades is not your thing.  For everyone else, enjoy 🙂

Last night was hot in more ways than just the weather outside!  Little did I know that the big O which Daddy had promised me would include a very intense scene and a frosty new experience, much to my delight.  My husband, who has been reveling in his new-found dominance, began by texting me with instructions to be kneeling by the front door when he returned home from work.  To please him, I wore some very skimpy lingerie which he had never seen me in before and a pair of black panties which are open in the back, revealing my naughty bottom cheeks.  As I knelt by the front door, the anticipation of the evening already had me quite excited as you can imagine…

When he arrived home, he pulled me up off the floor into a tight embrace, told me that I looked “fucking hot” (pardon the language) and then led me to the bedroom, depositing me in the corner.  He took my hands and put them behind my back, holding up my lingerie to reveal my bottomless panties.  He then informed me he needed a little down time and that I was to wait for him to return.

Thirty minutes later I heard the television go off and his footsteps coming down the hall.  In those thirty minutes I had experienced a vast range of emotions, from drowning in my desire for him to feeling a little irritated at being left in the corner for so long.  But when I felt him standing behind me, his hot breath on my neck…everything else faded away.  He smelled so warm, musky, and masculine.  I shivered, despite the warm temperature.

He led me to our bed and left me standing beside it to collect some things from our toy drawers.  He then fastened leather cuffs to my wrists and ankles and ordered me to lay face down on the bed, but near the side of the bed where he could reach me easily while he was standing.  He slowly peeled down my panties…down and off, and discarded them on the floor.  I soon began to feel the sting of the leather paddle as he warmed my bottom for me.  In between sets of swats, he would lean down and trail his tongue down my spine and along the crest of my bottom.  More swats.  More tongue action.  I was going crazy.

After the paddling, he instructed me to remove the rest of my lingerie and move to the center of the bed, where he then attached each of my wrists and ankles to the under-the-bed restraint system he installed a few months ago.  This was only the third time that I have been completely restrained in this way, and I felt myself blushing hotly at how on display I was…all of my most secret, feminine areas spread open wide for his viewing pleasure.  He left the room.

Blog pic 58.1

When he returned, he informed me that he was going to fuck my ass (again, I apologize for the language) with the new glass dildo, which he had conveniently left in the freezer overnight.  I was a bit terrified as he approached my lewdly displayed self, frozen dildo in hand, my bottom turned up nicely for the taking.  He lubed it up, told me that it was probably going to hurt, and then began to violate my bottom with the frozen instrument of pleasure and pain.  I couldn’t help it…I sobbed into the mattress.  The frozenness left almost a burning sensation inside me, coupled with the humiliation of feeling the dildo slide slowly in and out of my ass.  The intensity of the moment was almost too much to bear.  What seemed like ages of Daddy penetrating me slowly and deliberately with the frozen dildo, the coolness began to wear off some.  It was at this point that Daddy informed me that he was going to cane me for his pleasure.

This came as quite a shock and I begged him not to.  He gently pushed back my hair from my face, wiped my tears away, and asked me if I trusted him.  I do trust Daddy…and I told him so.  He told me that I was his good girl and he stood up to retrieve the cane.  With that frozen dildo still inserted deep inside me, he gave me 12 hard strokes of his cane.  I still have the marks to prove it this morning.

But, he wasn’t quite finished yet.  I felt him climb onto the bed and kneel between my legs.  I felt him grasp the head of the dildo and he pulled it almost all the way out.  He then told me that I was to count out the ten thrusts that were coming.  He then thrusted the glass dildo deep into my bottom and yanked it back out, leaving just the tip inside.  I screamed out “one”.  Another deep, penetrating thrust.  “Two!”.  After I counted each thrust, he repeated, “You belong to me” before continuing with the next thrust.

I can honestly say that I have never felt more “owned” than I did in that moment.  I was completely vulnerable to him, he was penetrating me in the most violating way, and I was at his mercy…he could do anything he wanted to me.  I was His.

Sensing I had reached my limit after this exercise in domination, Daddy released me from the under-the-bed restraints and he laid down next to me, holding me tight.  He asked me if I was okay and I tearfully told him I was.  After allowing me to relax for a few minutes in his arms, he began caressing my nipples and teasing my clit.  When he felt that I was suitably aroused, he mounted me and the most incredible orgasms ensued for both of us.

I’ve discussed subspace with a few of you before.  I was never quite sure if I was getting there.  Last night, I was there…deeply there, no doubt about it this time.  The combination of pleasure, pain, humiliation, domination…left me feeling floaty and “out there”…almost out of body, in a way.  After, I felt weak, shaky, and almost shy…but Daddy’s warm embrace saved me, revived me.

I know I frequently end my posts this way, but I am incredibly grateful for the joy D/s has brought into our lives!  We are happier, emotionally healthier…and damn, if we aren’t having the most incredible sex of our lives.

Thank you for last night, Daddy!

And yes, for anyone wondering…I still got all those plants planted afterwards 🙂

Thank you for stopping by and happy writing!

Love, nora