It’s like I’ve been in a coma. I’ve been submerged in Vanilla life. Moving, parenting, more moving, unpacking, cleaning, feeding people, walking dogs, all that BS.

Mr. D has been home two nights since moving back from Texas. Both nights I’ve been sore and exhausted. My body is beat up from moving and boxes. But I still wanted him. The first one we fucked. Short and sweet but a reconnection. Then he was gone the weekend.

Last night again, tired and sore but needy. I was need for him.

“What do you want slut?” He asked.

“I want Daddy to fuck me.” I replied.

“How do you ask?” He asked.

“Please fuck me Daddy.” Simple and direct.

“Hands flat on the bed.” I complied. God, how my heart sang with that command.

Except. I had to oust the dog from the bed. Then I couldn’t move without pain so used my hands as leverage and grabbed one of his in error.

“What did I say?” Crap, I had disobeyed.

“To keep my hands on the bed.” No use justifying my actions. I disobeyed.

“Use those hands to present your breasts.” I held them together for him high and tight.

“Count.” Damn, he really means it and he knows the counting adds another element.

Ten strikes altogether. Five on each breast. The pain, the fucking, in tandem. God, I was in heaven.

Pain that wasn’t my rebellious body. Pain for us, pain for Him. Fuck, I was finally home. Time begins again.