We're Making It

My first five days of Home-Schooling ended quietly. It wasn’t really home-schooling anyhow, more like unschooling, which is also ok. Well see what next week brings.

Today we celebrated Spring Solstice even though it was a day late. My daughter, the grands, and me. We used my Himalayan meditation bells and the maraca, smudged with my special feather that JM, my old wise therapist, gave me, and prayed to the Four Directions. My granddaughter loved it and it was nice for me and my daughter too.


“No,” he said, “Not tonight. You are worn out. No playing, no spanking, I ‘m putting you straight to bed.”

“I’m not that – ” ‘tired’ she was going to say but she got caught up in a yawn and that made her laugh ’cause clearly, she was just that tired.

“Exactly,” he said. “Come on, up the stairs, I’ll tuck you in.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said as she started up, a bit slower than usual, stopping to yawn again half-way up. “I don’t know why I’m so tired.”

They reached the top of the stairs before he answered. “Really? You don’t know why you’re tired? Cause I’ve been watching you today, and I don’t think you’ve stopped til now. Plus this is just a lot. A lot to deal with, a lot to wrap your head around.”

“It is,” she said.

They went into the bedroom, he set the glass of water he was carrying on her nightstand. “I’m going to undress you,” he said. As always, her skirt came off easily, he lifted her shirt off over her head.

“Go brush your teeth,” he said, “and wash your face. I’ll get your ‘jamas out.”

When she returned with a clean face and brushed teeth, he smiled. He had picked out the mulberry nightgown that was shaped like a slip. He slid it over her head, helped her put her arms in the straps, one at a time.

“There,” he said.

It was odd, she thought, how he almost made her feel like a child again. As if it were perfectly reasonable to wait while he dressed her, to wait for him to pull down the covers and gesture for her to climb in bed.

He pulled the covers up around her.

“Tell me a story,” she said, “Please, Sir?”

He smiled. “A story? I guess I could.” He pulled the rocking chair over next to the bed. “What kind of story?” he asked.

“Anything,” she said, yawning again. “Or – I know – tell me a story about a naughty girl.”

“A naughty girl,” he repeated, “I think I know one of those. Once upon a time, there was a vary naughty girl. She didn’t mean to be naughty, but she didn’t always stop to think before she did things. And sometimes, her master had to punish her for the things she did. He didn’t like to punish her. He liked fun spankings and lots of orgasms, not punishments. But he knew if he didn’t keep her on a short rein that she would quickly get out of hand.

He told the story for a long time. It was one he’d told before, but he tried to put a fresh spin on it. In today’s story, he decided that she needed to be punished with the wooden spoon. He gave her 10 licks on each cheek, describing how her ass clenched and wiggled as she tried to escape.

In the meantime, the real woman in front of him closed her eyes. She had been trying to keep them open, but lying down was too much and she was overwhelmed. By the time naughty girl had taken her licks and begun to offer a different kind of licks of her own, his real woman had fallen asleep.

He watched her sleeping, thinking how he would tease her in the morning for not having been able to stay awake. Thinking he might even spank her a bit first thing, just to start the weekend off right.

Then he took his own clothes off, brushed his teeth, pulled on his pajama pants and climbed into bed beside her. She slept on her side, and it was his habit to curl up on his side so he was spooning her. There was no reason to change that tonight. And he fell asleep before he could decide what he wanted to spank her with in the morning.

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