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I have a picturepinned to my wall.An image of you and of me and we're laughing,we're loving it all.I love my husband. We've been married for ten years, and in that time I've come to trust him more totally than I ever imagined I could trust another person. We are each other's yin and yang - I am submissive and he is dominant, I like being spanked and he likes spanking me. Naturally, he is the leader of our household. I have a bit of a willful streak, and he has made it his mission to help me stick to the straight and narrow. But he has a bit of a quandary - how do you use spanking to discipline someone who enjoys Bostancı Escort spanking?Well... he found a way.It started a few years ago. I asked him if I could buy a pair of earrings that I wanted, and he said we couldn't afford them, so I got pouty. Looking back, I have to admit he was right, but I was stubborn, and he whispered in my ear that he would "deal with my attitude" when we got home.I figured that would mean a spanking. Spankings usually start with him standing in the middle of the living room with me in front of him, and him ordering me out of my clothes. Of course, Bostancı Escort Bayan I've been nude in front of my husband many times, like most wives, but it's far more comfortable to be so in our bedroom suite. It makes me far more nervous to be ordered out of my clothes in our living room. When I'm done, he'll gather up my shedded garments and take them to the laundry basket in the garage while I watch. I feel in those moments like I am losing any hope of modesty. On his way back, he grabs a kitchen chair, sets it in front of me, drags me over to his right side and Escort Bostancı down over his knee and immediately starts a fast cadence of sharp spanks, alternating cheeks, setting them both alight simultaneously. Usually he spanks long and hard enough to get the crying started, then stands me up and ushers me over to the corner where he watches me to make sure I stay in place and don't rub my sore bottom.But this particular time, once I was in the corner, he did something different. I heard his footsteps retreat into the distance of our house, and then return. There was silence for a moment, and then the room was filled with a flash of light and I heard the distinct click of a camera shutter. My eyes got wide in shock and I turned around. He had his DSLR camera in his hand and a stern visage on his face. He said, "I didn't say you could turn around, but since you have, put your hands behind your head."