And once I thought about that, I fretted over that too. Sir wasn't going to be home from work for awhile. I don't recall ever asking him for a spanking. He's given them to me when he's said I'd needed it, but I don't recall actually asking. It's just not something we do; not part of our dynamic. At least, it wasn't.

When he got home, I didn't ask immediately. A couple hours went by. Eventually I brought it up when Sir was getting ready to take a shower. I talked about how we'd been Letting things go, and that I've been stressed and that I just felt like I needed a spanking. That I felt like I would be better with one.

Well, no sooner did the words come out of my mouth, did he have his hands in my hair and was pulling me down to the bed. He gave me about ten good swats before letting me up.

"This is just a warm-up. I am going to take a shower and then there will be more."

He finished his shower, and said: "Bitch, get me a glass of water."

I think that he may have needed this, too. Just the mention of it had him in a more domly headspace.

I brought him some water. He instructed me to get face down on the bed. We were careful about my knee.

And then he started. Lightly at first. Over my pajamas and panties. It had been a long time. He lingered, drawing the process out, allowing me to get warmed up. Just his hand, swatting me, rubbing, stroking, pinching. He increased his intensity, delivering stronger and faster blows.

And then, he asked me if I knew why he wanted me to bring him some water.

"... Because you were thirsty, Sir?"

"Well, yes, but also so I could do this!"

He placed that cold cup right on my back, pressing it into my flesh. He gets a kick out of being "mean".

He continued striking me, every so often caressing his handiwork. I heard him leave briefly, then felt the sharp sting of his belt. I reveled in hearing it cut through the air, even as I braced myself for impact, clenching my muscles almost involuntarily. I felt joy in hearing the belt tap his back as he pulled his hand back for the next blow. A steady rhythm to lose yourself into.

In the past 7 years, Sir has gotten very good with his aim. Good enough to give me a little mindfuck, stroking me, then hitting with the belt in almost the same area. Raising his hand off me as though to spank, only to feel the blow of the belt. It was hard to tell what was going to come next. Eventually he pulled my pajamas down, gradually letting it get more and more intense, before pulling my panties down and really laying into me, reddening my ass.

Abruptly, he stopped.

"Bitch, refill my water."

"Yes, Sir."

He had me gingerly get off the bed, and walk awkwardly into the kitchen with my pajamas and panties pulled down around my knees to refill his cup. Something about that is humiliating. And hot.

He shared his water with me, then told me to get back down on the bed.

He wasn't pulling any punches this time. He switched from his short belt, to the thicker belt I am required to wear as part of my work uniform. It certainly packs a wallop, I came to find out. I was squirming and moaning by the end of it.

And I can just imagine what I'll be thinking about next time I have to wear it!

Once he was done, he had me sit up. I am pretty tender, even just sitting on the soft bed. But it was a nice little reminder that I will carry with me tomorrow.

I definitely feel better. More focused. More centered. And I think Sir does too.

Thank you, Sir.