Recently, my husband and I stayed with family in my childhood home. I love my relatives, but they can be a lot — as Dirk well knows. He also knows a guaranteed tactic to snap me out of my malaise whenever I’m feeling down, which can happen during these visits.

One evening, everyone else had cleared out of the house for a few hours, giving me and Dirk some precious time alone. Usually, we save our power play for our place, but he was feeling frisky.

“We may not be at home, but we can still have some fun,” Dirk teased.

He walked around my old bedroom, which was still packed with items from my past. His eyes swept over every exposed surface. He was clearly casing the space. He paused when he reached the shelf that held my school awards and fingered the fringe at the ends of the graduation honor cords that hung there. He took down the ropes and said, “I can use these.”

He continued to my vanity, where my sorority paddle was propped against the mirror. He picked it up and appeared to test the weight of it.

“This will do nicely, too,” he said. “Let’s take this for a test drive.”

Putting down the ropes, he grabbed the bench tucked under the vanity and bent me over it. My hips rested comfortably on the tufted seat. Dirk had made sure to position the bench alongside the vanity, allowing its tilted mirror to provide an unimpeded reflection of the scene that was about to unfold.

“I’m so glad I caught you after your shower,” he said, letting his fingers dance along the hem of my short robe. He lifted up the material to reveal my bare backside.

“Very nice,” he whispered. His finger traced each cheek. I couldn’t be sure, but it felt like he was drawing a massive heart. “Beautiful as always, but I do prefer to see a rosy blush blooming on your cheeks.”

Dirk’s hand retreated and was replaced by the cool touch of glossy wood. He smoothed the paddle over the curves of each cheek like he was frosting a cake with a spatula. Eventually, he slipped the edge of the paddle inside my asscrack. He ran up and down the patch of skin between my pussy and asshole. When pure, sweet arousal wept from my core, Dirk used the paddle to spread the slippery liquid all over my cunt lips.

After my sex was thoroughly glazed with my own juices, Dirk moved the paddle back to my ass and smeared my honey on my puckered hole.

“Remember,” he said. “Tonight, I enforce the rules.”

He lifted the paddle and brought it down on one butt cheek.

“Oh!” I cried out.

To my own ears, I sounded surprised — as if I had no idea the wooden implement could deliver a sharp dose of delicious pain.

“Count for me, baby,” Dirk ordered.

“One,” I gasped.

The paddle came down again, this time on my other cheek.

“Two!” I shouted.

“Not so loud,” Dirk chided. “I know we’re alone for now, but you should keep the volume down — just in case.”

He dangled a pair of my worn panties in front of my face, holding them close enough for the delicate fabric to brush against my lips. The familiar scent of my pussy flooded my senses.

“Of course,” he continued, “if you get too loud, I know how to quiet you.”

The implication was clear. It wouldn’t be the first time Dirk had tucked a pair of panties in my mouth to muffle my screams, and it likely wouldn’t be the last.

“Yes, Sir,” I whispered.

Tempering my reactions wasn’t easy, but it was rewarding. Instead of my excess energy being released, it buzzed inside me and made my whole body hum.

Pushing boundaries is a large part of the fun of our kinky play. I knew Dirk really didn’t expect complete silence — especially since I’m a saucy little sub. He sets rules knowing I try to find ways to test his limits, which is kinda the point. I get a little out of line, and my husband doles out his special brand of discipline.

So instead of calling out the count for his third slap on my ass, I held up three fingers.

“Very resourceful,” he said. “But what will you do after ten?”

I turned my head to glance at the mirror. Instead of lifting the paddle high, Dirk switched to an underhand approach. He flicked his wrist again and again, tap-tap-tapping the paddle against my skin until my rear seriously stung.

By the time we did reach ten, I’d long since given up on finger-counting. I simply couldn’t move as quickly as my exacting master. I clenched my teeth and hissed out every number. I also took care to keep my voice low.

After delivering the final slap, Dirk discarded the paddle and inspected his handiwork. I watched his movements in the mirror. He brushed his thumb over one particularly tender spot on my rear and chuckled when I flinched. He placed a tender kiss atop the swath of smarting skin and soothed the sting away.

“Forgive me, darling?” he asked.

“Always,” I replied.

The truth is there was nothing to forgive. I loved every second of that spanking as the pain also provided a special sort of pleasure. I’d gladly take a flogging, too, if only to find myself in his arms afterward, sated and centered.

My husband walked around to the front of the bench and helped me up. After I’d risen to my full height, he met my gaze and asked, “Are you ready to behave?”

Every hair on my arms and neck stood on end as electricity crackled between us. I licked my lips and nodded.

A sexy glint sparkled in his eyes, signaling his pleasure.

“Please,” he gestured to the bench. “Have a seat.”

I did as I was told, brushing my breasts against him as I passed in front of him. I gingerly landed on my tender rump. As I descended, I was careful not to break eye contact. I enjoyed watching Dirk’s reactions, noting even the tiniest of tells which showed me he was having fun, too.

The coquettish look in my eyes undoubtedly exposed my impure thoughts because an amused smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

Rather than cross my legs upon sitting, I opened them wide.

“You are a tempting minx,” he said. “But you know I like to play before jumping into the action.”

That’s when he picked up one of my honor cords. He tightly wound the golden rope around my torso and breasts, creating a figure-eight pattern. The pressure was intense. The slippery braid was unyielding. The rope almost mimicked the effects of unrelenting fingers firmly squeezing my breasts. Dirk tied the ends into a simple knot and rested their tasseled tips in the valley between my tits.

“What a pretty picture,” he said, sounding very full of himself.

Dirk traced along the edge of the rope with the pad of his index finger. His lightly callused digit scraped against my satiny flesh, making me shiver. He followed the path he’d taken to bind my boobs, then he moved on to my nipples. My sensitive buds were already erect with arousal and begging to be touched. Their appearance didn’t escape my husband’s notice. Dirk tweaked both nipples, pinching them harshly.

“Ah!” I cried out.

The feeling of the snug ropes binding my breasts combined with the sharp bites of pain Dirk delivered to my nipples. Heat and erotic agony blossomed into an explosion of sensations, which thrilled me. He knelt before me with a look of growing hunger in his eyes.

“Let me kiss that pain away,” he suggested.

I liked the sound of that.

The tease used his lips to caress every inch of my exposed chest — except for my nipples. What started with one kiss led to two, then three — and many, many more. Just when I thought I might combust from my fiery anticipation, he gently took one of my nipples between his teeth and repeatedly flicked his tongue over it, making me sigh.

He pulled back to say, “I expect your pussy to be even more succulent.”

It wasn’t easy to keep myself in check, but I managed to whisper: “As you wish, Master. See for yourself.”

I laid my palms flat on the bench and tilted my hips to better expose my pussy lips, and Dirk emitted a low, guttural growl.

He dipped his head and feasted on my sex, fueling my arousal through his purely animalistic actions. Somehow, I swallowed the sounds of my pleasure, even when Dirk ferociously tongued my clit and massaged my G-spot with his fingers.

When I came, I bit back my moans, but I couldn’t stop myself from releasing one final sigh of satisfaction.

That’s when Dirk lifted me up. He took my seat on the bench and swung me around, so I landed in his lap. He locked eyes with me as he pressed my dirty panties to my lips. I dutifully opened my mouth, allowing him to gag me with the pussy-perfumed fabric.

“You’ve tried so hard to be good,” he said. “But I prefer to play it safe.”

I pursed my lips and nodded. Though I knew he would have silenced me no matter where or when we were playing. He was just looking for an excuse, and I was pleased he’d found one.

“Now, let’s see how wet your pussy is,” Dirk announced. He swiped his fingers along my gash, spreading my honey along my slit and added, “Very nice.”

Shortly afterward, he stripped — and replaced his thick fingers with his even thicker erection. He coated his crown with my juice and rammed his rod into my cunt.

It’s a good thing Dirk had put those panties in my mouth because once he started pumping, there was no holding back my screams. His thumb circled my clit while we fucked, adding an extra layer of sensation to an already mind-bending experience.

My second orgasm was even stronger than the first. My pussy grew so tight that within seconds, Dirk fell apart, too. His cream filled me up and overflowed from my snatch, drenching the bench beneath me.

Eventually, Dirk removed his decorative bondage, and we had a perfectly vanilla night together. But you can be assured I’ll never forget the time we graduated to that level of play.