Ami's Brush with Maintenance!

Starman is back and I am happy again.  In the past (not so very long ago) I looked forward to the times when he was away.  But not any more.  I felt quite disfunctional.  It reverts back to the "Zeiltanzers"  or Rope Dancers.  I need that rope to be tight and  secure.  I no longer feel the need for lots of slack!  

We often get too reliant upon others.  To cut the umbilical can be difficult.  Will we sink or will  we swim?  Can we manage to reinvent our own identities, or do we have to somehow retie the knot taking up the slack and binding ourselves closer together?

Starman and I are friends.  We've been together for a very long time measured against some of the marriages around these days.  (I was once asked by a woman I didn't know, what husband I was on?  Was he my second, third, fourth?  She was stunned when I told her he was my first and only!)  We both have strong and often differing opinions, expressing them quite fiercely from time to time.  We've worked together as well as having our own specialisms.  Yet before Dd we continually pulled in different directions.  We danced towards the same objectives, yet danced out of step much of the way.  We stood united against the rest of the world, yet niggled all the time when we were together, often disagreeing on the smallest of detail.

The rope was nearly worn through.  It was so badly frayed that I am amazed it didn't suddenly snap.  We stumbled over the loops many times.  To acknowledge that the umbilical does not, in fact, have to be cut, is like suddenly seeing the sun appear from behind the clouds.  All becomes clear.  There is no need to reinvent our identities, just get rid of the loops, and tighten up.  I'm discovering that the tighter I am bound to Starman, the freer I feel, the more liberated I am!

*****

Starman was dreadfully tired after his trip.  He worked for three days advising strategies to high-powered men in large companies, then drove over two hundred miles during rush hour in order to get home.  He hadn't phoned me before setting off, which is something he usually does.  As time went on I became more and more anxious.  He's a good driver, and the car is one of those with vorsprung durk technick, but I needed to check that he was okay, so I finally cracked and phoned him.  The phone rang and rang.  Just as I was losing hope, and thinking that I was going to have to get the police, fire and ambulance services out, he answered.

"Oh," he said.  "I was asleep."

"Asleep?"

"Yes.  I was so tired I pulled off into a service area and closed my eyes for a minute."  

I could hear noises in the background.

"I must have been asleep for around half an hour.  I didn't realise.  I'll get on my way now."

"Oh, well as long as you are alright.  How far are you from home?"

"I estimate around a hundred miles or so.  I should get back 7.30 ish.  Maybe 8."

I said goodbye and we finished our call.  I was so relieved.

It led me to think how important it is to let your other half know of your whereabouts when away from home.  Especially on longish journeys.  He had proved to me that I can trust him to drive safely.  But now I know that goes for me too.  If I trust him, then he should be able to trust me.  

I'm much better since the start of Dd at remembering my mobile when I leave the house.  And I'm much better at recharging it.  There hasn't had to be any threats or warnings.  And now there definitely won't have to be, because I have learned a lesson from this.  Trust is there for both of us.

He was home, as he said he would be, around 7.30.  He looked grey with tiredness, but he said the little rest stop had worked wonders.  

Needless to say we simply relaxed in front of the TV after supper, and for once Starman wasn't late coming up to bed.  He did his usual stroke, stroke, pat, and then went out like a light.

I woke as usual around 7.30 and pottered downstairs for our usual tea/coffee.  I put Starman's mug down on his bedside table and then sat in bed leaning against the bedhead drinking my coffee.  He was still snoozing.  I eventually put my mug down and slid back down under the duvet.  

Eventually I rubbed his leg.  "Don't let it get cold," I reminded him.

He struggled upright and reached for his tea, then he slid back down just like me.  We lay there in companionable silence for fifteen minutes of so.

I knew it was Thursday.  I lay thinking about what Thursday had come to mean to us.  (Last week it was Wednesday, but hey, what's a day between friends?!)  Starman looked so weary that I was determined to stamp down on my emotions and not mention a thing.  He simply didn't look as if he had the energy.

WRONG!!!

He turned on his side and reached over (you've guessed it) going straight for the boobs.  (And yes, Mount Everest again!  Only two of them!)

"Hmmmm."

"Hmmmm?"

"Hmmmm" he repeated.

I didn't dare say 'Hmmmm' back to him because it could have led to a completely 'Hmmmm' conversation.

"It's SPANKY THURSDAY today!"

You could have heard a pin drop!

I gulped.  "Well I didn't want to remind you because I knew you were tired."

"Actually, I hadn't forgotten.  I don't need reminding anymore."

He was now rubbing my hip.

"I'm going to give you a choice."

"OMG, this is like one of these stories I spend my time reading" I thought, the hairs standing up along my arms and at the back of my neck.

"A choice?" I croaked.  My throat suddenly went dry and I had to reach for my glass of water that I always keep at the side of the bed.

"Yes" he said.  "We'll play it differently today."

My heart was hammering.

"But we've had a good week, haven't we?" I was still croaking despite the water.

"We have" he confirmed.  "But I've been away for three days of it.  So I was thinking. (Oh bugger, he was thinking!!!!  Is that bad?  Is that good?  What do I do?!!)  I'm going to let you make the choice this morning of what you would like me to spank you with after I've worn my hand out."

(Fellow sympathisers - just what would you do in this situation?!  In fact, have you been in this situation and never warned me about it?!!!  Shame on you all!!!)

I remained silent, too stunned to comment.

"Well, I'm waiting" he prompted me.

I managed a nervous giggle, swiftly trying to consider my options.  We were alone in the house so noise was not an issue.  My brain had atrophied.

"Why don't I get them everything and put it here for you to choose?" I asked, thinking he would take the bait without any problem.

"Oh no you don't" he told me.  "If I'm meant to be HOH, then within reason, you have to do as you are told.  And this is within reason."

Is it? I was thinking.  Oh help!

"Off you go, and fetch something over here."  He wasn't to be bargained with.

I slunk out of bed in the chilly air.  I have heard of wives dragging their feet across the bedroom, but I never expected it would be me.  This wasn't even discipline.  At least I didn't think it was.  At that moment I would never have dreamed of uttering the fateful words "whatever"!

Now fellow sympathisers - I had made a new purchase at the end of last week, in my quest for something a little less noisy.  But we hadn't been able to try it out.  

I had been in the local branch of a well known nationwide chemist's shop.  I was buying hair conditioner.  I had glanced sideways and a whole rack of a certain implement had caught my eye.  I don't possess one.  I use a comb with wide-apart teeth.  And when I dry my hair I use one that is barrel-shaped with spikes that stick out to hold the hair.  Have you guessed yet?

a hairbrush

What did you say???  I can't hear you!!!

A HAIRBRUSH

Yes.  A sturdy type made out of wood, around 4ins by 5ins.  Very lightweight.  Nicely made.  Looks totally innocuous sitting on my chest of drawers.  No one will ever know...

I have read about these items of dread in hundreds of stories of spanked school girls.  I have seen pictures of them.  I know for a fact that a certain little person here has also just made the exciting purchase of one!  I have also read that someone in blogland has a silver backed one that she swears is quiet.  So how loud could it possibly be?!!!

I returned across the bedroom, climbed back on to the bed, and kneeling, handed it to Starman.

He grinned.  

He didn't say what is this, and why have you bought it.  He actually grinned.

Now I knew to be nervous!

Starman loved it.  I could tell from my first glance at his face.  I knew what he was thinking.  Believe me, after all these years I know my husband well - and his sense of humour!

He spent the next ten minutes trying out that hairbrush in other ways entirely!  I never knew a hairbrush could be so versatile!  And I hope your HOHs read this!  Because you all deserve it for holding out on me!

Anyway, I digress.

The time had come.  Starman positioned himself comfortably against several pillows placed against the bedhead, and motioned me over his lap.  By this time I was weak with laughter, so a went all jellyfish like.  He helped my bottom into position.  I had almost forgotten the intended use of the new acquisition.

He started slowly, gradually warming me up and encouraging me to relax.  He has learned to quickly about this aspect.  I willed myself to relax, my face, as usual, pillowed on my arms.  He carried on for a while - they were smarting now, but nothing I couldn't handle.  I'm getting used to it too.

Then WHACK!

My body arched upwards and if I could have crawled forwards off his lap I would have done. I felt my legs bend at the knees and kick upwards.  I couldn't stop them.  It was reflex action.  I shrieked some expletive of another, I can't remember what.  And anyway, it was too late because another hefty smack landed hot on the heels of the first.  If anything, it was the noisiest implement we had tried yet!

I told him in no uncertain terms that I felt that all hairbrushes should be taken out and burned.  I told him that it hurt like hell.  I told him that I'd really rather like him to stop, that this was only meant to be maintenance after all.

He didn't listen of course.  You know, I think he was well into it.  

I was still trying to crawl forwards but his left hand was firmly on the small of my back.

This was not sexy.  This was not turning me on.  

This bloody well hurt!

At one point the spanks got a little to high up and I had to ask him to spank lower down.  He was apologetic, and said he had wondered about that.  But he didn't stop!

"I can't cope with this" I managed to shriek.  "This is the most painful thing I've ever endured.  If ever you see fit to really discipline me, this is most definitely the thing you need to use.  In fact I'll make you a promise here and now.  I will be so good you will never, ever have cause to discipline me.  Not ever!"

He slowed and began rubbing in between flurries.  My eyes were wet, and I think one or two strokes more and I would have been in floods.  But I was so stunned by the pain of it that all I was trying to do was escape.  My usual compliant self had emigrated to Australia!

He put the dreaded object down and resumed the use of his hand.  

"You should feel the heat coming off this thing" he told me.

"My bottom isn't a thing" I replied, trying to shift about a bit.

He lifted me to my elbows and knees, still across him.  He was laughing again.

"Okay, your bottom.  I didn't know bottoms could glow."

He landed several more swats.  But these felt like velvet after the Horrible Hairbrush.  I shall refer to it as the HH for ever more!    

Gradually the swats died away and my bottom became the target of more exotic ministrations.  

After a certain interval (nudge nudge) we were lying side by side and he was extolling the merits of the HH.  "And just think," he was still laughing, "it can sit there without anyone even suspecting.  That was really clever of you to think of that Ami.!"

I wasn't going to tell him that you lot had inspired me.  In fact, you lot are very lucky I am still speaking to you.

But later on, after was had had a late breakfast, and I had showered, I puttered along the landing to his bathroom.  

"Look" I said lifting my robe.  "There's not a single mark.  Just a bit of redness.  And although it was uncomfortable sitting on a wooden kitchen chair, it wasn't unbearable.  I can't understand it, because it was an experience I don't want to repeat any time soon."

He laughed yet again.

"You're still redder than you think" he told me, and carried on shaving.  "And anyway Ami, you have to agree that I gave you the choice.  It was your decision.  You can't blame me!"

No, I thought.  I have no intention of blaming you.  It's those so-and-sos out there who are to blame!  And if I catch just one of them having a giggle, I shall throw a strop!

You better watch it you lot!!!

Traumatised Ami here, signing off....