Sunday, Sunday - Monday's Tale

It's been a hectic weekend here in the Phoenix area.  The Final Four is here in the stadium which is about five minutes from our place.  The traffic has been horrendous.  They had to close down a portion of one of the major arteries because the traffic was so backed up.  Who knew 77,000+ people wanted to watch basketball in person.  The other venues like the Gay Pride Parade, Fan Fest and the opening game of the Diamondbacks were all happening too.  I think I'll stay close too home until Tuesday afternoon when things should start to ease up.  

Unfortunately, it's been a picture perfect weekend weather wise which usually means hundreds more people want to live here.  They should come back in the summer before they make that decision -115 is a far cry from 75-85.  

Anyway, here's this week's story.  It's short but gets the job done, I think.

I woke up this beautiful Sunday morning with a whole day of nothingness ahead of me. It doesn’t happen often, usually there’s a chore that needs doing, or lunch with a friend, or something for which I have to ready myself.  Not so today.  It was wonderful, I sat over my coffee, perusing emails, looking at Facebook and watching Sunday Morning which is a favorite of mine.

Then it struck.  What you say?  Martha Stewart came to visit, that’s what. Now, mind you, I am not a Martha Stewart fan.  Why she has to make everything and anything into a complex project turned me off years ago.  As a matter of fact, when I hear her voice on a program, I immediately mute the sound.  Jack feels the same way, so no problem there.  But, suddenly, I hopped up and started all sorts of projects in the kitchen.

It began with slicing strawberries.  When I opened the fridge I spied a packet of Pillsbury Pie Crust dough that I had purchased some time ago to make I know not what now.  Suddenly, a coconut cream pie I had purchased a couple of weeks ago came to mind.  Voila, in the pantry was a package of vanilla instant pudding, a bag of coconut, and the light bulb began to flicker.  Add some cool whip and tonight’s dessert was ready.

The next thing was a head of cabbage in the fridge.  I love cabbage, Jack not so much, but he likes cole slaw.  So then I started chopping cabbage for cole slaw that would go well with the ham I planned for dinner.  I was whirling around the kitchen like you know who, when suddenly I felt a breeze.

A breeze, you say.  Yes, a breeze but on my butt cheeks, someone had come into the kitchen and lifted my nightshirt while I was removing the pie shell from the oven. I hadn't dressed yet and because my husband doesn’t like it when I wear underpants with my nightshirt, he says it denies him access to the treasure trove, my bare butt cheeks were on full display.

“Just checking,” I heard him say.  “Too bad”

“What?”

“Too bad”

“What are you talking about?”

“If you had on panties, I was going to have to punish you for disobedience.” 

 Now I got it and smiled to myself.

“So Christian, what did you have in mind?”

“Who’s Christian?”

“Really, Jack, you’re asking that question. Remember FSOG, the one that renewed our interest in sex.”

“Oh, that Christian.”  The smile on his face was pure Jack and reminded me of when we were young and always ready to ‘do the dirty’.

“Yes, that Christian.  You know you don’t need an excuse.”

“I know, but it always seems more exciting.”

“Well, if that’s the case, go check the floor of the closet in the guest room.”

He gave me a strange look but went off down the hall.  The next thing I heard was “Holy Shit” before he came storming back down the hall to the kitchen. 

“Are you excited now?”  I asked.

“You’re damn right I am.”  I smiled to myself until I saw what he had in his hand.  I had forgotten that the cane was hanging in that very same closet. 

He pulled out a kitchen chair.  “Bend over that chair, with your hands resting on the seat,” was his directive.  I did as I was told.  

My legs quaked in the dead silence in the room until I heard the displaced air as the cane swooshed toward its target.  It took a second or two for the line of fire to register in my brain.  Before the pain settled in, it was quickly followed by another assault to my bare bottom. I’d forgotten much the bite of the cane hurt and was sorry now that I had directed him to that closet.  This was supposed to be fun, but it sure didn’t feel like that.

“Honey, ease up a little, there was no warm up.” I started to rise up but his hand pushed me back down.

“You think I don’t know that.  Who is in charge here?  I know what I’m doing.”

I didn’t get a chance to answer before the cane struck again.  I yelled out as he continued to brand my bottom with that damn cane.  Finally, I felt his hand move over my cheeks, checking for welts, do doubt.  They were there and I knew I would be feeling this caning for a while. He helped me up.  I reached around, rubbing my punished skin, while watching him walk back down the hall with the cane in hand.

When he returned, it was with the evidence he had found in the closet.  “So tell me, is what’s in these bags worth the caning you just received?”  I couldn’t tell if he was serious or if this was part of a game he had started.

“You tell me?” and with that I slowly began pulling the items out of the bags.  The lingerie shop in the mall was going out of business and everything was on clearance so my purchases cost a fraction of what they normally cost and I took full advantage of the bargains.  His eyes got as big as saucers as I removed the lacy bras and panties.  However, the piece de resistance, the garter belt and corset, left him gape-mouthed.

Needless to say, we both thought they were wise purchases.  He had me model some of the items and took a picture of me in the corset bending over the kitchen chair.  On display, of course, were the red stripes on my bottom.

Shortly after that, we moved to the bedroom where we spent the rest of the day playing the TTWD game.

See you later for more Aimless Ramblings.