Belted Buns

^Those are the Mister’s belted buns.^

It was just one of those things, you know? One of those, Oh I think I’ll crack this leather in his general direction kind of things that happen when one is getting undressed. That’s all it was, really. Or all it was *meant* to be. But then he made that little eye wiggle at me that means, “Ooooh… You’ve turned me on!” (maybe because I was in the process of getting naked?) and even if I could resist that (I can’t!), it was pretty much a done deal when he decided to bare his butt and wiggle his little buns at me too.

I mean, I was still holding the belt I’d so recently removed from the loops on my jeans and cracked at him, all Domly-Domme-McSpankypants-like. And he was…

Impish.

Insouciant.

And he bent over.

So I gave him a few swats.

And he seemed to like that. So I gave him a few more.

And then, well… I got disappointed because his ass was not even pinking, but at the same time was a bit trepidatious about, y’know, really laying into him with the belt because since it wasn’t my hand I was hitting with (I have never, in almost 17 years together, smacked his ass with anything but my bare hands), I couldn’t really tell how hard it was. When I told him of this dilemma, he just turned his body so I could see his very happily responsive erection, wiggled his butt some more, and…

Well.

I made him put a towel down first(because, “I’ll never forget the time I was spanking you and you jizzed all over my comforter. Bad Smotchy!”) but then, let’s just say…

There was a bit of beating that took place.

(He instigated it! What was I supposed to do?)

Cheeks, underbuns, insides of thighs. Solid whipping cracks and shushing snaps and light thudding flat-sided thumps.

A spank to his balls.

Two. Three.
Four, five, six.
SevenEightNineTen in rapid succession.

Then, “Turn around so I can get your front.”

A snap-whip to the tip of his cock, longer whooshes over the tops of his thighs, tease-taps under his nutsack.

Everything turning pink.

I turned him around again. Scratches of nails over flushed-welt flesh.

Back over again.

And again.

Belt. More belt.
Smack, thud, CRACK!, whip.
Stripes.
Baby oil. Fingernails.
More stripes.

And, well…

I turned his little butt pink.

The picture doesn’t really seem to show it very well though. So I suspect I might have to do it again. Y’know, for science. And photography. And such.

Soon.

I mean, especially since he said to me – when we were finished and I was complaining at the lack of ‘show’ for this particular bloggy show-and-tell [Me: I’m gonna put your buns on my blog, okay? Him: Of course you are.] – “Maybe you need to get something a little more severe to beat me with than a belt, hon.”

Hmmm…

And what with Christmas being 9 and 1/2 weeks away (You *do* know that reference, right?), didn’t *that* just whip up some naughty thoughts….