It seems to me that several posts I have written in the last 6 months all start out with me busy cleaning. As I have explained before, one of my goals upon retirement was to turn this house upside down. To purge all our belongings, large and small. To discard and donate. To polish every piece of furniture. To empty, wash down, and organize every closet and cabinet. I can see a light at the end of the tunnel, and my spirits seem to lift with every corner I finish.
Right now, I am working in the middle of the living room. Sam has been by my side to move pieces of furniture out from the wall. Doctor's orders after my last surgery cautioned me not to lift more than 10-12 pounds. That's really not very much. A gallon of milk is 8 pounds. I remember Sam's words as I was recuperating over 3 years ago.
"There's a new sheriff in town, little lady,
and he better not catch you lifting anything heavy."
I laughed at the time, but he meant what he said. Besides, you know how much I appreciate a dominant cowboy story, badge and all.
|Sam Elliott Has Always Done It For Me|
When I was still working, I had a rolling cart to carry medical supplies that needed to transported for patient procedures. At home Sam has always been attentive, no matter what task or project I am tackling. In the garden, I leave bags of debris and weeds on the pathways for Sam to tote to the bins. If I purchase a heavy item such as wild birdseed, I have a store employee put it in the truck and leave it there until a time when the sheriff can bring it in the house or garage.
But I do cheat occasionally when not under the watchful eyes of the law. Sometime last week, Sam realized I had moved his big leather armchair in the living room. His eyebrows came together and he gave me a good talking-to. I kept telling him I just pushed and swiveled the chair out of the way. I did not lift.
"Don't care," he said emphatically. He reminded me of what the doctors had said after the surgery. That he would move or lift whatever I wanted. That if I screwed up, all our plans could come to a halt. There was not to be ANY lifting, pushing, pulling, dragging, and so on. He made me promise, and I did.
Then yesterday I was marching on with the cleaning pogrom, and Sam wasn't due home for several hours. I decided that it was OK if I sat down on the floor and pushed the bookcases back into place using my leg muscles. When he got home later in the afternoon, he was hanging up his coat in the hall closet. When he looked up and glanced into the living room, he erupted like a volcano.
"What did I say?!
What did you promise me?!
I told you specifically what not to do,
and you did it anyway.
You deliberately disobeyed me!"
Oh, he was on a roll, for sure. And loud.
Disobeyed? I thought. I was so surprised that I didn't know what to say. My mouth was open, but nothing was coming out. Sam, though, had plenty more to say as he took me by the wrist toward the kitchen.
"Did you think I didn't mean what I said? Is there a reason you misinterpreted when I explained my wishes last week? Mmmm, Ella? You are not answering me."
And I was still not talking. Don't think I have ever seen him like that. Think I was in awe. Sam was doing plenty of talking by now as he made me face him while he undid my belt and jeans. Once he had me over the counter, he started to spank with no holding back. He stopped once to lower my jeans a bit more, but it didn't break his rhythm one bit.
Who was this dominant man?
Was this the sheriff he joked about long ago?
Why couldn't I think of one damn thing to say?
When he was finished with the spanking, he let me pull up my pants. Although his "little lady" apologized, Sam kept giving me that "look" the whole evening and warned me several times more.
OK, now for the strangest thing of all. Don't think I have ever seen Sam so dominant, and to be blatantly honest, I was so turned on that I couldn't think of anything else. When he came to bed, I curled in next to him, and tried to explain how this whole incident had left me feeling quite horny. He wasn't having any of it. Just went back to warning me about ever disobeying him again and what would happen. He did give me a kiss and one more smack on the bottom and told me to go to sleep.
Ella was hoping for a little more "Ever After."