Upping the ante, part 1

"Why are we going to bed so early?" I asked my husband, realizing it was only 9 PM, and secretly thrilling a little inside.

"Seemed like a good time to go to bed," he replied as he slid into bed next to me, pulling me close to him. "Is this new, what you're wearing?" He ran his hand down my body to indicate the nightie I'd put on.

"No," I was turned away from him so he couldn't see my smile. It's rare he seems to pay attention to what I'm wearing.

"Just don't wear it often?"

"I brought it from home when we came back," I answered. "I left a lot of stuff like this back there."

"Why is that?"

"I thought maybe we wouldn't be having sex so much after." I laughed at my own thought processes from the time. "And... maybe that you didn't care so much anyway."

He laughed too. "No sex for a year? What do you think now?" His voice was right in my ear, his lips grazing my neck after he spoke, sending shivers down my spine.

"Mmmm, which do you mean?"

"Do you still think I'm not going to have sex with you?"

I laughed pretty loudly then, the very concept foreign enough that it was ridiculous. "No," I said quickly amidst my laughter.

"Good," he said, his hands pulling me closer. "And I do care."

Huh. That's news to me. Never noticed him caring. Score one for communication.

He lit a candle, turned off the lamp, and turned back to me. I was purring as he stroked me, stretching into him. "What's on the menu tonight then?"

"Mmm... love. Maybe some pain." His hands kept stroking me and I made soft noises of appreciation with each item as he listed them. "Some claiming of you... some entering of you."

I had turned toward him as he spoke, and let my hands dance over his skin for a bit, being sure he was finished talking.  "Sounds like a nice menu," I said appreciatively.

"I'd like it if you'd kiss me," he whispered.

I like to give him what he likes. So I tilted my face up to his and kissed him, softly at first and with more hunger as his responses fueled mine. My breast rested on his chest, he shoved my nightie out of the way and his fingers stroked my nipple there as we kissed, making me purr. "Love," he breathed out, his fingers gently rolling my nipple.

"Love you," I responded, sucking on his full lower lip.

He slapped my nipple then, pretty sharply. I yelped, jumping a little with the pain.

"Pain," he whispered.

Oh, I get it. It's the menu. He's delivering the menu. My thoughts didn't have much time to settle there because he was slapping my nipple over and over and I was groaning.

He pushed me onto my back so he could slap my breast full on, and I arched into each blow. Oh wow. How long must it have been since he'd done this? Days, at least. I moaned with every thud into my chest.

And then he stopped. What? I was unfocused, breathing hard, bereft of attention but not sure how to process. He'd turned away and was looking for something in his nightstand. "Ahh," he finally said, and turned back to me, rubbing the back of the wooden spoon against my nipple. I shivered and whimpered, a little fearful, but also excited.

He started tapping that spoon into my nipples, lightly at first, and harder as I rose up into the taps, groaning with deep satisfaction. "Oh wow, look at you," he said as he continued, on and on until I lost all thoughts except rising up into the strokes of the spoon, feeling the impacts into my nipples. I was so, so aroused. I could feel myself growing wetter with each blow.

I shivered as he leaned over to kiss me, the spoon resting against the inside of my forearm where it lay on the bed. He took advantage of that position to hit me there, all up and down my inner forearm while he kissed me. I cried out into his mouth as the wood left its mark on my sensitive skin. It felt incredible, and I was overwhelmed. As he hit me on the inner arm, as he kissed me and did whatever else he was doing, I felt myself begin to shake. I arched up as he kept slapping my sensitive skin with the spoon, and I felt an orgasm washing over me. I screamed, shaking as it went through me. "Oh my," he whispered as I vibrated beneath him.

 It hurt more when he finally stopped; my flesh throbbed and complained.

"Open your legs for me," he said. He would normally knock them apart but he was propped on one elbow and his other hand was holding the spoon. I whimpered, a little fearful, but I obeyed. He ran the spoon over my inner thighs, over my pussy that was still covered by panties. He slipped them off, then ran the spoon over me again. I whimpered.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked.

"A little," I answered.

He started slapping the spoon against my inner thighs, just enough to leave a sting behind but not enough to make me feel like I was dying. I was happy with that, lifting my hips and squirming, and then he brushed it over my pussy again, slowly, deliberately.

He is very, very good with the spoon. As he told me later - spoons don't hit people, people hit people. So my initial hate for the thing was on the way he was using it, of course. Residual traces of that fear still linger. I tensed up.

He bent over so that his upper body was across my midsection, facing my spread thighs, pinning me there. I cried out - this was unexpected. He slapped my pussy and my thighs with the spoon, making me writhe beneath him, making me moan and cry out unintelligible sounds.

He resumed his previous position beside me when he was finished, kissing me as he ran the spoon up my body. "Mine," he said against my lips, his free hand gripping my throat and keeping me there while he plundered my mouth. "So mine." His hand ran over my face, and I pressed my face into his hand as it passed, covering my eyes, my nose, my mouth. He pressed. I love it when he presses my face like that. I moaned into his hand.

The spoon rubbed against my cheek, and my mouth opened. He was looking at me, his gaze trapped mine as he slowly, deliberately, slapped my cheek with the spoon. I trembled, a cry spilling from my mouth as he did it again. "Mine," he said firmly, slapping my face with the spoon while I moaned helplessly.

Oh my God he's slapping my face with a wooden spoon. Oh my God. I writhed. Shivers overtook me and I couldn't stop shaking. He finally stopped, put the spoon down, and kissed me while his fingers found their way between my legs. I knew what he would find there.

"Oh my, what have we here?" he asked as his fingers delved into my wetness, as he made little noises come out of me with the slightest touch. "I think we have a nice wet pussy. I think it likes what I do to you."

He played with me a bit, his fingers sliding inside me, his thumb stroking my clit, making me twist and groan. He kissed me the whole time.

"I want you..." he said softly against my lips.

"I want you." I answered, kissing him more fervently.

"... to suck my cock," he finished.

Continued here...