He is my whipping boy.

He jumped up off the bed as he saw my anger rise. My voice was louder than I intended, my grip on my control slipping.

I stood up, too, not sure what he was doing, then he began to unbuckle his pants.

I rolled my eyes. I was not in the mood to play — not even remotely — I was close to the edge of no return.

He shook his head as if to shake me off. “I have something that will make you feel better.” He had done this to me, it was his fault for pushing, pushing, pushing me.

He pushed his jeans down past his hips, his underwear, too, and leaned on his elbows on the pile of clean laundry. “Go ahead. This will make you feel better. I’m sorry, ma’am.”

My breath caught as I looked at his bright white bottom, curved and muscular before me. I smacked him hard twice, but it hurt me more than it did him. I wondered aloud where my belt was, but he quickly removed his and handed it to me.

And as I thrashed his bottom I vented about the true object of my disdain and dislike. The Neighbor writhed and bucked, my voice a strange accompaniment to the sounds of leather on skin.

The red bloom was large and growing beneath my attentions. He was nearly trying to crawl away. So I stopped, said, “One more,” hit him harder than ever before and added to the male authority figure currently in my life, “And that’s for reminding me of my father.”

I drooped a little, confused. Both turned on, filled with love for him, and neatly exorcised.

TN had riled me up and offered his body as a vessel to demonstrate my anger to my demons both present and past.

I felt like one of those color-swirled marbles.

I caressed his rear end and pressed a cool Topo Chico bottle to the redness. He stood up and kissed me, gave me a big hug.

When he pulled away I saw his erection.

He shoved me roughly onto the pile of clothes, ripped my panties down and shoved himself inside. Peyton was watching TV on the other side of the locked bedroom door as I was getting pummeled from the inside, my anger wisping away like a blown out match.

Then it was done. My insides blooming, my chest heaving, my anger vanished.

The pile of laundry remained.

[Don’t forget today is the last day for Boobday submissions!]

A 40-something single mother who writes honestly about sex, body image, D/s, relationships, her nervous tics, and how much she loves to fucking fuck. She also likes to show you her tits.

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20 thoughts on “He is my whipping boy.
  1. I find your relationship with TN, as it is, to be very interesting…but more than that, I am envious…I could deal with a lot of bullshit these guys dish out to me if only I could vent some it on them, as you did…
    And I know it is all complicated, but you have to know there is definitely a level of affection there, that he possesses for you…I hope you have an appreciation for the fact that most of us other debauched ladies are not so lucky…

  2. Oh Hy… what a fascinating combination of thoughts/feelings. I’m glad you had outlets. I never considered dealing with my parental issues like this. Clearly you’re on to something. ;)

    1. Well, I hadn’t considered it prior, believe me! I have an older male authority figure in my life right now (not really by choice) who triggers me like a motherfucker. My dad died nearly 7 years ago and so my work on our relationship is entirely internal these days. Or maybe not?? Ha!!

      But, yeah. It’s not a bad way to go, and honestly, I felt so much coming together in me as I was hurting a willing, consenting participant. It’s definitely worth looking into more. xx Hy

      1. I had a summer-long fling with a young woman that looked to me as a ‘Daddy’ type. It was very interesting to see and hear her act out her aggressions with me as her Dad, then as her lover. We crossed the line a number of times that way. It always made me wonder at times how thin the line actually was. She definitely was a different lover when she was my daughter. I was 7 years older than her Dad.

    1. That’s not true! I do! Only I let them build up for months and usually get 2 posts out a year on them :) Though, I won’t lie, this year I haven’t been keeping track of what I’ve been getting.

      But thank you, honey. You’re way too kind :) xx Hy

      1. I know you do, I guess I should have said, “please don’t feel like you need to pass this on, I’m just honored to be inspired by you.”
        xx back at you.

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