Discommbobulated

As I try to convince myself to get up off my loveseat after I’ve tidied up the kitchen, I begin to feel the ache in my feet from wearing those overpriced peach colored high heels. But they looked so sexy on my French manicured toes. Two simple sun kissed straps. One across my toes and the other slightly hugging my ankle. The gold little buckles accentuated what could have made for a boring pair of shoes. Although my feet ache, I somehow I revel in the pain. I still do not understand why the pain makes me feel liberated. I suppose one could perceive that as a bit sadistic? I slowly walk up my wooden stairs step by step, in no hurry. I’m quite tired today. It’s too hot to wear much tonight. Even with the air conditioner set at below freezing my neck is still moist. I slip into bed and pull my crisp light blue sheets over my body. My nipples get hard while I brush my sheet slowly over them. And there it is. The desire. The wanting. The thoughts of something, an object of my lovers choosing spanking me. My mind wanders, yet knows exactly where it is going. Thoughts of soft yet firm spankings across my breasts excites me and they harden further until I can longer pass up the chance to squeeze, turn, and pinch them. At first gently, then harder. Such sweet delight. I’m exhausted but the desire begins to call me. Taunts me. Beckons me. I blissfully take part in that forbidden calling. Lowering my hand under my peach laced panties. I move slowly at first then faster. My breathing deepens as I picture my nipples being clamped. Sweetness nears and I hear myself quietly moaning. I’m so close. As my fingers relax I feel the wetness between my legs becoming warmer. For a moment I allow myself to take part in the forbidden. How my fantasies tire me. I smile.