He never tells me what the thermometer reads. I sometimes wonder if he reads it at all. Finally he takes a step back and says, "Good girl. Stand back ...p and step down here," and he indicates a spot in front of the pedestal. I stand back up and step down off the pedestal and around to the front. He continues, "You know what's next. Get into position." I know that this means it's time for my spanking. I turn around and bend at the waist, placing my hands on the pedestal not far from where I was. She squirms, fondling a handful of softness, licks her finger and runs it across a rosy peak. "Oh..." she says softly to no one. Her sex must have called to him, somehow, in her desirous stupor. A door creaks on its hinges in their bedroom. Knees akimbo, a rumpled sheet still at work on the juncture between her thighs, she glances over her shoulder. He meets her eyes. She can hear the sound of his bag being dumped, the impatient thump of shoes onto floorboards, a zipper and the dull thud of. More

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