We're married and we have this deep connection. At least when you're not in 'Mexico' or on a 'team building cruise.' I don't think you know shit about...'what I think.' – JHer reply:You're right. I meant: it's not what it seems. Come home and we can talk about it. Please? –CI sent back:Home? 'We' don't have a home. Just a rest stop between sessions where you can fuck Senor AssHole.There was a longer pause before her next message.You've got to come back sometime. You're not the kind of guy to just. She rubbed his ass cheeks with her free hand measuring the warms and preparing her target. She held the cane millimeters from her target zone, a steady line of thin rattan. Within the space of a heartbeat she reeled back and laid a stroke across his ass. She rested a hand on his shoulder as he screamed and tried to get away. She laid a second line right above the first, then a third, then a fourth, until his ass was stripped from his lower back to the tops of his thighs. He was crying when she. "You're looking at me again! I can't concentrate when you do that" she said with a cheeky grin on her face. She turned back to her book, picked up her pen and began to write again, finishing off some descriptive paragraphs we had started earlier. Still in shock at her forwardness, I slowly found my mind again and went back to watching her work, but she soon stopped writing and sat staring at her page tapping her pen. "What's up?" I asked, "Out of ideas?" "I..." she began, "Can you... do what. A lovely looking waitress came in, waiving the curtain at the entranced of our booth away with one gentle swipe of her long sleek fingers and a henna tattoo on top of her hand. She presented us with a note and started reading it to us.“Dear Lucas and Debra, as you have noticed we have arranged this nice restaurant for the both of you, but that is not all, we have arranged the ordering of the meal as well as the drinks you should have, so no stress in what to order. We know what the both of you.
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