My husband’s birthday week was more eventful than the party itself!
Caution: This post contains topics of a sexual nature, including consensual sexual violence.
It’s that time of the week when I finally get to kick back, relax and catch up with you all. As per the post title, this week has been chaotic – though it’s nothing that I can’t handle!
As mentioned yesterday, on Tuesday, I read Slave Shae’s piece about spanking for humiliation. It was a new concept for me, having only ever been spanked for play. Don’t get me wrong, being spanked in a public dungeon is in itself very humiliating (especially when you get an uncontrollable fit of the giggles!), but spanking for the purposes of humiliation in the act itself? That was new. It also left me thinking for much of the day about humiliation play.
Unknown to me, it also seems as though my husband heard my thoughts, perhaps through telepathic connection.
As I sat on our bed and watched the bedroom aquarium, Matt stood on the bed behind me to change the lightbulb. Sensing my opportunity, I grazed my teeth lightly over his inner thigh and looked up at him.
“Don’t get distracted” I uttered.
Lightbulb changed, Matt undid his flies and released himself. With one hand in my hair, he swiftly filled my mouth.
I had to admit, looking up at him like this was incredibly satisfying, almost as though his power over me was direct and clear, rather than the subtle presence that it had always been. I also supposed that like this, almost any man could look good. Ahh yes, such is the submissive mind.
Almost no sooner than he filled me, Matt freed himself from me again. I watched him for a moment, hungry, eager for more. It never came. Instead, I watched him stroke himself for a moment, my eyes flicked up to meet his.
“Please” I whispered. Please feed me you.
He didn’t respond. Instead, he groaned and moved closer.
“What? No! Wolf please don’t. Not my face…”
Four rivulets of his warm essence ran down my left cheek, dripping onto my grey t-shirt below. I stared at him for a moment, hurt, angry, confused and betrayed. He hadn’t done that in a long time, so why suddenly, why today?
It took me a time to get over the fact that he had, though, I realised, perhaps not nearly as long as I would have liked. Anger and resentment were soon replaced by pride and submission, and hurt and betrayal even became wry amusement. It wasn’t something that had happened in a long time, and it was something that I didn’t particularly mind.
Oh, the shame!
After clean up; Matt held me and let me rest for a while, letting me stew over what had been. I maintained my indignance for several more hours though, Matt realised, much of it was complete folly. If I maintained the attitude, I decided, he might think twice about doing it again.
“I think you enjoyed it really” he pressed.
“That’s not the point!” I squealed, “You defiled me! A strong, respectable, respected woman… defiled!” I protested. He laughed.
Thursday should have been a small family gathering for Matt’s birthday, and with food ordered for delivery on Wednesday, Wednesday and Thursday should have been a mad dash in preparation. Not too long after the ASDA van pulled away, the phone rang.
“Hello love, I’m afraid I have some bad news” Mum said. Her tone was different. It wasn’t the same ‘bad news’ tone she’d used weeks before when my great aunt died, this time it was… sardonic?
“Oh? What’s up?” I asked softly, perching a hip against the back of the sofa for some support.
“I’m afraid I can’t come up tomorrow.”
“I’ve got Covid again” Mum laughed.
“It’s bloody ridiculous! I’ve had both of my jabs and feel absolutely fine in myself but I still have to isolate for ten days. Mally has to as well, just in case.”
Oh well, that’s lmost half of the party then, down and out.
The hardest part of cancelling Thursday was rewriting Wednesday, completely. For a good two hours, my brain was still in ‘get ready for the party’ mode, and every little thing that I’d had to do, now didn’t need to get done at all. Of course there was housework for housework’s sake, but now there was no party to prepare for, no table to get out of the shed and no last minute details to finalise. The things that needed to get done – that I had been putting off until next week – now could get done, and the room-for-two layout of the lounge no longer mattered.
On Thursday, I made Matt a spontaneous birthday cake. It wasn’t anything that I had planned, but after Thursday’s cancellation, the least that I could do was prepare for the visit from James on Saturday. Because Matt’s Dad, Andy, still wanted to see Matt, we decided to invite him up then as well. Matt always loved a choloate and vanilla butercream sponge, and owing to my father’s chocolate cakes with a thick chocolate layer on top, I wanted to add my own family touch. Sure, I stole inspiration from Matt’s grandmother, but I still made the cake my own. Our own. Thanks, Dad.
Despite our plans for Friday, our planned evening of kinky debauchery didn’t go ahead. Like clockwork, want, will and desire transpired as fatigue and a simple determination to get the housework done ahead of Saturday’s little party. I don’t believe that it’s gone away, not entirely, but times are different now. Matt has never been that into kink – certainly not as much as me – and begrudgingly, I’ve long had to accept that.
Yesterday, Matt finally did get his little gathering of sorts. It would be a largely uneventful evening of course, with football and drinks all round.
If there’s one thing that I’ve noticed, it’s that whenever we have male company, I seem to slip into a more submissive role. Last night I was the only female, but it’s also not a position that I mind. I know that conversation with me takes a more secondary role compared to football talk, and I know that it’s sort of assumed that if there’s food to be cooked, then I’ll be the one who cooks it. I made pleasant chit-chat with James and Andy, breezing my way through running the evening and casual conversation at the same time.
“You need salt and vinegar on the chips” Matt said casually.
“What? No. I put salt and cracked black pepper on the chips for southern fried chicken,” I replied, “salt and vinegar is for fish.”
“I always put salt and vinegar.”
“I’ll salt you in a minute!” I warned.
“Will you, really?” he said, noting my frustration. Dom Matt was once again very apparently in the room.
“No, Sir.” I uttered
That’s it from me for this week, my lovelies! What’s been new with you?
Until next time,
Stay safe and have fun,