He was spanking me hard, and I couldn’t stay still.  So he held me down on the bed and kept up the pace of hard and fast spanks.  I started to cry because of the pain and a bunch of other reasons (work, hunger, exhaustion, etc., etc.)  This is good.  It’s the first time I ever cried during a spanking.

The trouble?

I held back.  I stopped myself from crying almost as soon as it started.  Now I feel a little blue and a little… frozen.  Or partially defrosted.  It’s almost as if there is a huge wellspring of pain inside me that we might just access with these maintenance spankings, and I am scared of this.

I started talking about Friday night rituals.  Up until now, my Friday night ritual consisted of calling out for food, smoking weed, and watching stupid things on TV, and because I had no weed last Friday, I really suffered.  (I also had no cbs last Friday, and that didn’t help.)

While we were on the topic of Friday night rituals, I told him about maintenance spankings, and he understood immediately what I was getting at.  He compared it too “needing a massage at the end of the week to release built-up tension.”

Best of all, he’s game.  He’s on board.  I couldn’t be happier!

A note about this piece of writing: I was 24 years old when I had this experience and wrote about it. 

The first time I was spanked, I was 24 years old, and I met a woman on-line, just by chance, who happened to be into spanking.

She was married, and her husband was fine with her swinging (with other women.) She was the submissive in the relationship, and had been using spanking in her relationship with her husband. She was really good to and for me. She actually made me call and leave her a message on her work voicemail asking her to give me a spanking! Whew! That was hard, but I did it.

So we had a really nice lunch at Chili’s in Framingham, and she said that after lunch, I was going to get spanked. No getting out of it. I was so nervous! I had butterflies in my stomach and I wasn’t sure I would be able to go through with it. We drove around in her mini-van to find a spot with a lot of privacy.

We finally found a wooded area in Weston where she could pull in and no one could see her van from the road. I was wearing a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, but underneath that, I was wearing a dress that just barely reached the top of my thighs, and a pair of micky mouse panties (you’d be surprised what cutsie things you can find in women’s sizes.)

We both got into the backseat of the van (the seats that are the closest to the front seats- if you’ve been in a mini-van, you know what I mean!) She made me ask her to spank me again, and I was so red that I felt like my face was on fire. She also had a wooden, flat-backed bath brush that she handed to me before she told me to get across her lap. I stretched out, across her lap, my face in the seat, holding the brush above my head. She smoothed my short dress over my bottom. The first smack startled me a bit, but didn’t hurt very much. Actually, it felt good to me.

I’m pretty quiet when I’m being spanked, unless some begging or whining is a part of the game. Usually, I lay there and drink in as much of the sensations that I can.

She stopped after a few minutes and made me sit up. She scolded me a bit and pulled me back across her lap, this time lifting my skirt and spanking me over my panties. My bottom was starting to get warm, and at one point, she checked to see how red I was getting.

Suddenly, we heard men coming, and she pushed me off her lap. I sat on the floor, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, and if I hadn’t felt so dreamy I would have been ticked about people invading our space. They didn’t bother us, but she didn’t start spanking me again until they were gone.

The next time I was over her lap, she pulled my panties to my knees and started spanking my bare bottom. She was spanking pretty hard at this point, but not quite hard enough to make me squirm. When she said it was time for the bath brush, I groaned involuntarily.

We had picked out safe words well before we met, and there were a couple of moments during my paddling with the bath brush that I was tempted to use one. I didn’t, though. I wanted her to push my limits as far as possible. I was squirming and gasping a bit as I held tightly to the door handle. I know she was holding back because this was my first spanking, but she was still paddling pretty hard.

She stopped and rubbed my bottom a bit, and then she had me sit up and pull my panties back up. We both got back into the front seat, and I was grinning again, feeling completely serene.

This spanking alone was central to my masturbation fantasies for a solid week.

Sadly, I never saw her again after that. We exchanged a few e-mails and then lost track of each other. I miss her, and I wouldn’t mind seeing her again (even just socially, for non-spanking purposes!)

I want to write about a woman. But my words will fail me, as they usually do. My previous post was even a hack job at a beautiful experience that I used to share with my ex. I’m hoping that the more I write about sex, the more competent I’ll get at it.

Okay, chaos theory makes sense to me, in a simple way, but when I’m touching a woman (a certain woman in particular,) it’s hard for me to believe that bodies and breasts and hair and skin and smell are all just a bunch of randomly strung together carbon molecules… Okay, this really isn’t sexy when you bring science into it.

I was with a woman last night.

She is the first and only woman that I’ve been with sexually. I remember the first time that I touched her breasts it was almost an orgasmic experience. We were lying together on the couch in her apartment. I was on top. I had originally been lying in her arms, but I had turned around to kiss her. Kissing varies from person to person, but it doesn’t seem to vary much from male to female. (A little side note about me is that I don’t enjoy making out with someone unless they’re a good kisser. I’ve been very lucky, too. All of my boyfriends, even my first, were extraordinary kissers.)

Breasts are just amazing. I mean, really. I know I have a pair of my own (and pretty nice ones, too, I might very unhumbly add!) but feeling yourself up is completely different from touching another woman. Touching her breasts for the first time was like exploring uncharted territory. I felt so many surprising feelings. It solidified my bisexuality.

Last night was surprising, however. There is a back story that I’m not going to go into, but I didn’t think that she and I were going to do any kind of love making any time soon. Of course, now I know that all it takes is a bit of New Age music and a long sexual conversation. (Reverse that order. We had the conversation first.) I’ve been trying to introduce her to the wonderful world of domination. She’s even eager to know about it, even though it’s something that she would be doing for me all the way.

We fooled around for a while, and I didn’t expect to cum at all. She said she wanted me to, but it’s always been difficult for me to cum with other people. It takes a long time, and it requires patience on my partner’s part. Unless, of course, I’m masturbating in their presence. Then I’m done in 5 minutes (as opposed to the 2 minutes it takes me when I’m alone.) We happened to be in an excellent position. I was on top, straddling her right thigh. Her hand was between my legs, held vertical rather than horizontal. I wish I had a better way of describing it. In other words, the side of her hand and index finger was pressed along the opening of my outer labia. She had just enough pressure on my clitoris that if I moved my hips rhythmically, I got wave after wave of increasingly powerful sensations. I didn’t want to push myself too hard to climax because I always lose something when I do that. I told her I wasn’t sure whether or not I would cum, but I really got into it. I was moaning and everything.

Typically, in order to push myself over the edge, I’ll have a quick fantasy or something. Oddly, I didn’t need a fantasy to push me over the edge. I just followed my body there. Honestly, had it not been so late, I could have gone on for hours.

Naturally, I made her have an orgasm, too. Fair is fair! I hold back when I’m touching and massaging someone else’s body. She kept telling me that I could put more pressure on her clitoris, but I still felt as if I was holding back, afraid that I would hurt her. Sex is so much less awkward when you finally get to know the other person’s body. I think that’s why I could never have tons of partners. That would be too many bodies to try to figure out.

It’s strange to think that I’m the same woman who was afraid to kiss another woman just three years ago.

A lot has gone on since I’ve gone monogamous with my current partner.  I went through some seriously difficult times.  Now that I’ve finally found the right psychiatrist and the right kind and amount of medication, that aspect of my life seems to be improving.  However, I still feel listless and unmotivated.  My writing and creativity continues to suffer.  My interest in sex is nearly non-existent.  cbs and I seem to be having a hard time connecting on the sexual level because of my disinterest.

I’ve thought about maintenance spankings on and off for years now.  For a long time, I would have been happy to be spanked by anyone willing.  (Okay, maybe that is still true.)  The story I read (sorry I can’t link it… the spanking archive is set up in a weird way) made me think more on the subject, and I know what I want.

I want weekly spankings, administered every Friday night.  After a 5-day work week, things accumulate:  petty annoyances, small hurts, fragments of shame and guilt (whether warranted or not,) and other things that chip away at contentment, creativity, libido, and even true happiness.  Weekends are sacred, and I want to start them off on the right foot.  I want to be free of all of that accumulated garbage.

The rules, as I envision them (having not yet consulted with my significant other):

• The spanking will be administered as soon as possible after cbs gets home from work on Friday night.
• The whole event will be non-sexual.  No sex before, during, or after, and no masturbation before bed for me.
• It will be a serious spanking:  no safeword, no bratting up, no playfulness, and some really good tears.

I think it will bring cbs and me closer together.  My hope is that he will get into it as much as me, and it will serve as a catharsis for him as well.  I don’t want this to be one-sided.  I don’t want him to do it just because I need it.  I want him to need it, too.  I don’t think it will be this way at first:  there is a kinky mindset that other kinky people understand, and this mindset is impossible to express in words.

Tomorrow is the day I will present the idea to cbs… Fingers crossed that he’ll take me seriously and be willing to try.

“Why? Are we not going to eat?” Jason asked, in the same sarcastic tone he had used all afternoon.

“Yes, we’re going to eat,” she said. “But you will be sitting on a sore bottom.”

He fell silent at that, and clicked off the radio in his red Mustang while turning back toward their apartment. He had been a brat all afternoon, and he knew it. He didn’t open her car door after any of their stops, smarted off about several different things, and openly pouted when she wanted to go into a music store because he wanted to go to a sporting goods store.

Spanking had been a part of their marriage from the beginning. They still had the same chemistry, the sparks between them that they had when they began dating five years ago. He knew he had been pushing his luck all afternoon, but he didn’t realize he had crossed the line. She had spanked him hard with the small oak paddle three nights ago, and the bruises were just beginning to fade. While he loved receiving a hard spanking, he didn’t relish the idea right now, on an already-sore bottom, just before dinner. His smart-aleck attitude immediately evaporated, and he tried to mend fences.

“Jen, I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I know I was a brat at times today, but let’s just go get supper like we had planned.”

“No,” she said sharply, immediately. “It’s too late for all that. You’ve been bad, and we need to address that right now. I think you’ll have a far different attitude at the restaurant this way than if we just ignored your behavior.”

Neither of them spoke for a block or two. She turned the radio back on, popped in a Dar Williams CD. Within minutes, he swung the car into the parking lot of their apartment complex.

“Go straight to the bedroom,” she said as they got out. She picked up several packages from their shopping trip and began to climb the stairs to their second-floor apartment. He fumbled with the keys, but opened the door and stepped back to allow her to enter first. She laid the packages down on the couch and stopped short, watching him move toward the computer.

“Excuse me, Jason. Did I not say ‘go straight to the bedroom?’” He stopped and looked at her stern expression. She was serious. He knew she hated it when he acted like a brat.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“OK, then. Do it.”

He walked into their bedroom, leaving the door open. He heard her open a kitchen drawer, probably getting their special large wooden spoon she used to spank him. He heard her footsteps go to the closet where they kept the paddle, and then heard her go into the bathroom closet. That meant the bath brush. He groaned involuntarily. She had not told him to take off any of his clothes, so he sat on the side of the bed in his khaki pants and white golf shirt. In a moment, she came into the bedroom, carrying the wooden spoon, paddle and bath brush. She was still wearing what she wore shopping, jeans and a white T-shirt. Normally, there was a lot of scolding and slow build-up to his spankings. But she wasn’t in the mood for that this afternoon, plus she was hungry. She hurriedly dumped the implements on their king-sized bed and climbed on the bed, on her knees.

“Come here. Get on your knees,” she said, gesturing to him as she spoke. “Take your shoes off. How many times have I told you not to touch the furniture with your shoes?”

He complied, kicking off his loafers and climbing into position. He knelt over a pillow, pushing his ass up and putting his face in the pillow. He felt his thin khakis stretch tight over his bottom.

“I’ll give you a little warm-up, but this is a punishment spanking, and it will hurt,” she said, spanking him lightly with her hand. “I want you to think about what a brat you’ve been. After I warm you up, you’re getting 50 with the paddle. Then we’ll go eat, and I expect you to behave much better.”

He knew better than to argue.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his voice muffled by the pillowcase.

She rubbed his bottom and began to spank him harder with her hand. She swung her hand upward, catching him right on the “sweet spot,” where his bottom met his thigh. After about a minute of that, the room silent but for the smack of her hand hitting his pants, she picked up the wooden spoon. He felt its hardness against his bottom, and pushed his bottom up higher to meet the smacks. She swung the wooden spoon hard, bringing it down with swift strokes on his ass. She spanked all over, both cheeks, high and low, not pausing, spanking him rapidly. Even through his pants and underwear, the blows felt like little firecrackers exploding against his skin. “Get up,” she said finally. Jason rose from his kneeling position and stood at the side of the bed, looking at her.

“Take your pants and shirt off,” she told him. “And get back up here.”

She watched him unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants. Then he pulled his shirt over his head and stood before her in just his briefs. He climbed obediently back in front of her and got back on his knees. She rubbed his bottom through his underwear, running her hand between his legs to feel his throbbing erection. She smiled to herself, and began spanking him again firmly with her hand. After a moment, she picked up the bath brush.

SMACK.

The first blow from the bath brush caught Jason off guard, since he had not seen it coming. He moaned a little and raised his ass higher, thrusting against the pillow. He was aroused and breathing heavily. She spanked him hard with the brush, reddening the skin at the edge of his underwear. Once she lifted the waistband of his briefs to see how red his skin was. He felt the stinging sensation and the hot achy feeling in his bottom. After about five minutes of hard spanking with the bath brush, he felt the bed shift as she reached for the paddle. She laid the paddle down in front of him, so he could see it, and put both hands on the elastic waistband of his underwear.

“Time for these to come off, Jason,” she said, pulling the briefs down as she spoke. He lifted his hips to help her, and watched over his shoulder as she tossed them on top of his other clothes.

“OK, young man. You’re going to get 50 hard ones with the paddle. I want your ass in the air. Are you ready?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, his voice trembling a bit. She rubbed his bare bottom, looking at the faint bruises from his spanking earlier in the week. She picked up the paddle and held it against his ass.

“I want to hear you count,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am.” She raised her arm and brought the paddle down with all her strength, catching him cleanly on the left side of his ass.

“OW. One,” he said.

SMACK, on the right side.

“Two,” he moaned.

She alternated sides, spanking him fast and as hard as she could. The achy throb spread across his ass. He felt the hot stinging all over, made worse with each smack. He continued to count, but began squirming after 25. At 35, he fell off his knees and rolled onto his side.

“Get UP,” she said, punctuating her words with a smack from the paddle. “On-your-knees,” she said, padding him once per word.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said as small tears started in his eyes. He was panting from the pain.

“These last 15 you’re really going to feel,” she said firmly. “Count them. “. He felt the bed shift as she raised the paddle. She brought it down as hard as she could.

“Ohhhhh.” he moaned. “Thirty-six.”

He endured all 50. His ass felt like it was on fire, and it ached terribly. At the end, he fell onto his stomach. She stood up.

“Get up. We’re going to eat.” He rolled over and gingerly sat up. His erection was rock-hard, and she saw him reach for his clothes.

“No underwear, Jason.”

“What?” he asked her.

“You heard me. Don’t put on your underwear. Just put on your pants and shirt. I want you to feel this spanking all through dinner.”

He did as she said, and she was right. His ass burned through his pants as he sat in the car, and he winced again as they sat down at the Olive Garden restaurant. She watched him squirm and smiled. He was still shifting and fidgeting when the waitress walked up. She was very cute, with close-cropped brown hair, wide full lips, and brown eyes. She looked at the two of them and smiled at Jen.

“How are we this evening?” she asked.

“Just fine,” Jen said, smiling back at the waitress, whose nametag read Sarah. Jen looked first at Sarah, then across the table at Jason.

“Jason, tell Sarah why you’re squirming.”

Jason stopped dead still and stared at Jen.

“What?” he said in disbelief.

“Go ahead. Tell her why you can’t sit still,” Jen said.

Sarah stood still by the table, looking at the two of them. Jason hesitated, looked at Jen pleadingly.

“TELL her.” Jen’s tone was firm this time. Jason’s face turned bright red. He was embarrassed and stared at the table in front of him.

“I just got a spanking,” he said quietly.

“Oooh, I’m sorry,” said Sarah, still smiling. She turned to Jen and gave a conspiratorial wink. “But sometimes, that’s what husbands need.”

Jen ordered for both of them while Jason played with his napkin. After Sarah walked away, he looked up at her. The combination of the spanking and the humiliation of telling the waitress about it had turned him on more than he thought possible. He looked at Jen with abject longing in his eyes. She would say later that he looked happier than she had ever seen him. They ate dinner slowly, the lust building between them. When they returned home, they all but tore each other’s clothes off. Running to the bedroom, Jen grabbed a strap-on dildo from the bedroom closet and fastened it snugly around her waist. Bending Jason over the bed, she fucked his ass long and hard, rocking her hips and thrusting. Afterward, she climbed on top of his erection and rode it to orgasm, feeling him explode inside of her.

©JRH 1995-2011

“Are you ready for your spanking?” I asked her firmly. She nodded, with her little-girl mannerism, a grin lurking somewhere in her face. “OK, then, stand up and fix the pillows. I will start spanking you over your pants.”

I watched as she arranged everything, admiring the way her breasts moved as she worked, and lusting over the curves of her bottom. I smiled when she finished and bent over the stack of pillows, her bottom tantalizingly elevated. I turned, still sitting, and began rubbing her bottom. I know what kind of warm-up I’ll need in order to spank her hard with the belt later. I began -spanking her with my hand, gently.

“Have you been naughty?” I murmured. She softly said “yes” in reply.

My spanks gradually got harder, as I alternated rhythm and sides of her bottom. She began twisting just a bit, part of our almost-telepathic way of telling each other we were enjoying the scene. I always did the same type of thing when she had my bottom bared. Finally, after a long period of spanking, I told her to stand up. She did so, her face a bit red and her hair mussed.

“I want you to pull your pants off,” I told her, tasting the words. The specificity of the commands was a turn-on for both of us. “I’m going to spank you over your panties.” She slid her pants down seductively, her eyes locked on mine. She stepped out of them, and resumed her position over the pillows. I grew even harder with arousal as my hand slid over the surface of her panties…they were so soft. I drew my hand back and smacked her bottom, with surprising force. She moaned a bit in reply. I resumed her spanking, alternating cheeks and gradually increasing the force. She moaned and turned this way and that, her voice muffled by the quilted bed. I watched the skin just below the edge of her panties get rosy red, and once I lifted the edge of her panties to feel her bottom. She raised her bottom up to meet me, wanting me, I could sense, to touch her warm, wet vagina. I resisted the urge. That would come later, no pun intended. At some point, I stopped again.

“Stand up,” I said. She complied. “I want you to take your shirt and bra off,” I told her. “I want to see you wearing just your panties.”

She took her clothes off, allowing me a look at her beautiful body. I strained and shifted my pants in arousal. I wanted her so badly; I loved our sex play.

“Now, I want you to tell me how naughty girls get spanked,” I said to her firmly. She looked down, feigning embarrassment. “Tell me.”

“On the bare bottom,” she whispered.

“That’s right. So I want you to take your panties off, also.”

She slid her panties down, and I drew my breath in, excited as always at the sight of her naked.

“Now, get back in position,” I said to her.

She got back over the pillows, and I began spanking her bottom firmly with my hand. As her redness increased, I picked up the hairbrush and gave her a few good smacks. As always when we played, time seemed to stand still; I could have spanked her for 20 minutes or two hours. Finally, I stopped. It was time for what we both knew was coming. I leaned down over the bed to whisper in her ear.

“Jen, what do very naughty girls get spanked with?” I asked her. She said nothing at first, just looking at me with a smile. “Tell me.” I said in her ear.

Her arousal made her breathless as she whispered the words.

“With the belt.”

I began to stand up.

“I want you to watch me, Jen. Watch me take my belt off so you’ll know what happens to naughty girls.” She turned her head, still in position on the bed, as she watched me slide my belt from around my waist. Her face was flushed with arousal, and a little anxiety. She knew the belt would mean a stinging bottom hours later. I took the belt off completely, and doubled it as she watched. She turned her head as I stood in position to begin spanking her. She never liked to see the first one coming; in fact, I usually teased her with it before I spanked her. I rubbed the leather across her bare bottom. I drew the belt back and gave her a good lash right across the middle, the leather popping as I did so. She moaned, and began squirming.

“Stay still, or it will be worse,” I told her.

I lashed her again, at a spot just below the first one. And again, as she began moaning much louder. Her bottom began turning a deeper shade of red. After a while, I gave her a break.

“Ten more,” I said.

“NO!” she moaned, all part of the game.

“Ten more super-hard ones, then you’re done,” I told her. She moaned something I couldn’t understand, but I knew this was what she wanted. “And you need to count these off for me,” I told her.

“Yes, sir.”

The first one was the hardest yet. She cried out a little, but obediently said, “One.”

I gave her a break at five. It was all I could do not to take her. I was dizzy with arousal.

Six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

I winced at how red her bottom was getting; she would feel this spanking tomorrow, no doubt. When it was all over, there was dead silence in the room for a few seconds. I lay down beside her and stroked her hair; she was panting. My hand slid down between her legs; her hand beat me there. We both rubbed, her hand guiding mine, and within a minute, she was in the throes of a tremendous orgasm. My penis throbbed, still bound within my jeans.

We both walked into the bathroom afterward, and I watched as she surveyed herself in the mirror.

“You really gave me a good one,” she said.

“Yep,” I said, smiling.

Her tone turned firm. “Now, I want you naked and on your knees on the bed, young man. You are SO going to get it.”

I practically ran to the bed, tearing my clothes off. I couldn’t wait.

©JRH 1995-2011

“Sorry for what?”

“I wasn’t as chaste on my trip as I promised you,” he said with downcast eyes. “I fantasized about you several times, even pictured you naked, and even…well, once I just had to…masturbate.” He swallowed, awaited her reaction.

“We have agreements about this sort of thing, don’t we?” she asked him in a parental tone. When he nodded, she continued, “Well, we shall have to teach you a lesson, I suppose. Go into our bedroom and take off everything except your underwear.”

His heart started pounding as he walked toward the rear of the house. This aspect of their sexual lives had begun over a year ago, and it provided immense pleasure for the both of them. Playing out a spanking scene, whether on the giving or receiving end, never failed to excite him, even more so now, given the long period of time since their last episode. He entered the bedroom and began removing his clothes. As he did, his gaze fell with excitement on the smooth, wooden oval paddle that she had placed in the center of their bed. She had given it to him on his last birthday, making use of it that night with a thorough birthday spanking. He smiled to himself as he realized that she had anticipated him asking for a spanking upon returning from his trip. Their ability to anticipate the needs of the other was one of the things that made their relationship work so well. He removed all of his clothes except underwear, as per her instructions, and sat on the end of the bed, anticipating.

She entered the room dressed in a beautiful white teddy that left little to the imagination. As his gaze swept her from head to toe, he became aroused immediately, producing a tell-tale bulge in his boxers. She smiled at that, as always taking pride in her ability to arouse him. She eyed him playfully, began to tease him, “So, you decided to be naughty while you were away? Couldn’t wait just a few days? Not even with me as your reward?” with this she propped her leg on the bed, tantalizing him. “Well, I’ll bet you will regret that indiscretion very soon. Stand up, and turn around.” He complied silently. She sat on the end of the bed where he had been sitting, and ordered him to bend over her lap. “I’m going to get you warmed up first, with just a few smacks with my hand.” She rubbed his bottom through the thin cotton cloth of his boxers, then paused to run her hand down his bottom and between his legs. She giggled when she heard him moan. The first few smacks were light, as she established a pace, but they became progressively harder, until he squirmed almost imperceptibly on her lap. After several dozen blows, she stopped. “Stand up.” He rose, trembling with anticipation at what he knew was coming.

“Now for the more severe part of your punishment,” she said. “You know you deserve it, don’t you? You know you’ve been a naughty little boy.” He nodded, his eyes downcast. “Very well. I want you to hand me your paddle and then pull down your underwear.” He retrieved the paddle and then slid his boxers down, feeling the heat from his reddened bottom as he did so.

“Back over my lap.” She helped him get positioned, then took a practice swing to test her balance. “Forty of these, and then your punishment will be over,” she said. He nodded at the floor, and closed his eyes. The first smack made his bottom bounce, and the sting made him rise onto his toes. She proceeded to forty, each blow coming harder than the one before. At forty, the paddle was still. She pulled him to her and simultaneously laid back on the bed. They kissed passionately, and she whispered seductively in his ear, “Welcome home.”

©JRH 1995-2011

They were words I loved, but in this case, the sweet firmness in them also made me wince.

Every night, Jen and I go through a routine. She and I both know every night that I am to be spanked, but neither of us choose how long or what implement she’ll use.

We leave that up to luck.

Several months ago, she devised a system for choosing how I would receive my nightly spanking. She made up three decks of cards, one called “implements,” another called “position and clothing,” and yet another called “length.”

In the implements stack, she listed all our favorites, the wooden spoon, the paddle, a hairbrush, the crop, the cane, her hand, a strap, and an ominous card marked “any or all,” her choice.

“Position and clothing,” fairly self-explanatory, dictates what I am to wear and whether I’m to simply bend over, be on my knees, or be over our special spanking bench.

“Length,” again fairly simple, is how many licks are forthcoming, or for how long she will spank me. There are cards for numbers of spanks from 10 to 100, lengths of time from 15 minutes to two hours, and a special card that I can only use once a week marked, “not tonight.” That card means I get to skip a night of spanking, which sometimes comes at a welcome time if the spanking from the night before was particularly rough.

But mixed in the “length” deck is an awful card, one I always hoped to avoid drawing, even while secretly craving a hard spanking.

It reads simply “until bruised.”

We knew it was coming — that menacing combination of “any and all,” combined with “on the bare, on your knees” and “until bruised,” but it hadn’t happened yet…at least not until tonight.

“Oh, honey,” she said to me when we looked at what I had drawn. “I’m sorry, but we knew it was possible. “We need to go ahead and get started…a spanking that will bruise might take a while.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I answered meekly. Jen and I had been into spanking since we married more than a year ago, but it was only in recent months that I began to get into the harder stuff — the paddles, the long spankings, leaving marks, even bruises. I loved the anticipation, and I loved the control she exerted over me in this practice, but this particular combination made me nervous.

I had never taken a spanking like she was about to administer, and we both knew it.

“Go into the bedroom, get ready, and I’ll be there shortly,” Jen said with a sweet smile. She patted my bottom as I walked away, my stomach in knots. I waited in the bedroom for what seemed like forever — completely nude, on my knees with my ass in the air.

She walked in wearing my favorite — nothing but a white T-shirt. Her off-the-charts, curvaceous body excited me to the point of trembling. I was rock-hard, my erection throbbing beneath me as I remained on my knees. Her fragrance came with her, an intoxicating smell of body spray and her special soap.

She climbed on the bed alongside me and showed me the implements she had chosen — a long wooden spoon and one of our longer paddles, a sorority type with holes in it. I knew a few good spanks from that and the bruising might arrive sooner than we expected. “I know you’ll be good, but remember, if you don’t hold still, I’ll tie you down,” she said in that same sultry, firm voice.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, my mouth dry and voice shaking. “I’m going to warm you up for a bit before we start the hard stuff,” she said. “But it’s coming, and it will hurt, I guarantee.”

I felt her warm hand caress my bottom. My stomach had a meadow full of butterflies, and my erection continued throbbing, dripping with arousal. The first spank sounded very loud in the silent bedroom. The sting of the first slap always electrified my body, and I strained my bottom even higher to meet her spanks.

“Harder,” I said, involuntarily. My boldness surprised even me.

“Harder?” she said with a laugh. “Aren’t we fresh tonight! Don’t worry, young man; it’s about to get harder.”

She spanked me faster with her hand, slapping my bottom with her palm, bringing the warm redness to the surface. My breathing became faster as the warm, stinging sensation permeated my body.

After a bit, she paused and picked up the wooden spoon. One of my favorite implements, the spoon felt like firecracker pops against my skin, each blow striking its own unique spot.

The room was silent but for the staccato snaps of the spoon hitting my ass.

Who knows how much time passed? I was in another world of arousal when Jen finally picked up the paddle. “I think 20 or so with this should get that bruising done nicely,” she said.

“Twenty?” I said. “NO!”

“You don’t have a choice, young man,” Jen said sharply. “The cards said bruise you, and that’s what we’re going to do. Now, if you don’t quit squirming, I’m going to tie you down. Be still and stay on your knees. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said softly, tears creeping into my voice.

I felt the heavy paddle against my ass as she aimed for the first lick. I tightened up in anticipation. I felt the bed sway as she swung the paddle. It landed with a ferocious smack.

“OH!” I moaned.

The second one came before I knew it…the stinging was immense.

Over and over, she paddled the same spot, each lick more painful than the one before. The oft-spanked spot was aching, hot, and stinging.

She paused at 15.

“You’re pretty close, honey,” she said sweetly. “I think these last five, if they’re super-hard, will leave some nice bruises. I think you need to count these off for me out loud, OK? And remember to stay still and stay on your knees.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I sobbed…the tears had started just after the paddling.

SMACK.

“One,” I said softly, my head buried in the bed, my ass still painfully exposed.

SMACK.

“Two,” I moaned. I ached like never before.

SMACK.

“Threeeeeee,” I groaned.

Four, and finally, at long last, five.

I collapsed onto my stomach, my erection pressing into me from beneath.

She bent her head close to my ear.

“You did so good, honey!” she said. “You stayed on your knees like a good boy. Now, I think you deserve a reward. Roll over.”

I rolled over, my ass burning as it made contact with the bed. She reached between my legs and felt my dripping erection. She stroked it, up and down, gently, and I exploded within seconds. My orgasm made me shake all over, and I came for what seemed like hours.

She was smiling when I opened my eyes.

“Oh, honey,” she said again. “I love you.”

I smiled back, my eyes full of love. “I love you, too,” I said.

©JRH 1995-2011

I pondered that with a mixture of excitement and dread. Every time she used that phrase, I usually ended up with a bruised bottom, but I had to admit I always enjoyed it.

When I arrived home from work that afternoon, the lights were off downstairs and there was a note on the door that instructed me to go up to our bedroom and take off all my clothes except my underwear. I walked upstairs quietly, listening for sounds to figure out where Jen was. I heard nothing. I walked into our bedroom and found a variety of toys laid out: Two paddles, a flogger, some nipple clamps and a rather large anal plug. There were several candles burning all around the room. The only light spilled from under the shade of our bedside lamp. There were padded restraints attached to all four corner bedposts.

Finally, I heard water running in our bathroom, and I assumed Jen was showering. I smiled, looking around at the scene she had set up for me.

I did as I was instructed and took off everything I had on except my white briefs. The note had not specified what I needed to do, so I sat on the edge of the bed and waited on Jen.

Momentarily, she emerged from the bathroom. She had on a white teddy, and nothing else. Her hair spilled down over her neck, almost to her shoulders. She smiled a seductive smile at me and kissed me.

“Welcome home,” she said.

“Thank you.” I smiled at her and shivered a bit as I admired her body and the sexy outfit she had chosen. My cock stirred, bouncing to life, ready at a moment’s notice after five days of denial.

“So what’s my learning experience?” I asked.

“Well, Honey, tonight I’m going to help you associate pain with pleasure,” she said. “I’ve been reading about it in a great sexual domination book I found last week in the bookstore.”

I looked at her with a quizzical look.

“Jason, you know when I spank or paddle you really hard, sometimes you lose your erection or arousal, right?”

I nodded.

“Well, I know you enjoy your spankings, even when it’s hard, but I want you to really associate spanking with sexual release. Enough explanation, Honey. Let’s just get started. I want you on your back, right now, and spread your legs and arms out so I can tie you.”

I did as she asked, my erection bulging in my underwear as her breasts swung against me while she fastened my arms and legs to the bed. She finished and lay beside me, her mouth near my neck. She began to rub my erection through my briefs and whisper into my ear.

“You haven’t come in a while, have you Baby?”

I moaned no in response.

“You want to, don’t you?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said in a breathy voice.

“It feels good when I rub your cock, doesn’t it? It makes you want to come. I’ll bet you could come right now, couldn’t you?”

I nodded, turning my head toward her.

She quickly pulled her hand away from my cock and slapped my face, hard.

“Well, you’re not going to, for a while, anyway,” she said firmly.

My face flushed and my cock throbbed. She put her hand back on my cock and just left it there, without rubbing, feeling it throbbing beneath her hand. With her other hand, she grabbed my right nipple and twisted it, hard, making it erect. In one smooth motion, she grabbed a nipple clip and fastened it to my erect nipple.

It HURT. I moaned and writhed as far as my restraints allowed me to. The pinch began to really sting on my nipple. It hurt so badly that my cock began to get soft, as all I could think of was the biting sting on my nipple.

She watched all this, calculating. She felt my cock grow soft under her hand. When she was satisfied my erection was gone, she took the clip off and kissed my nipple. She began to rub again, stroking me.

As the pain subsided, the warm feelings came back as I enjoyed her mouth on my nipple and her hand on my cock. I began to harden again, my cock bouncing as it did so.

She stroked me harder this time, feeling the shape of my cock and whispering dirty things into my ear, things she knew turned me on. She whispered to me to tell her when I was close to coming.

“Don’t you dare come, Jason,” she warned. “Tell me before you lose control.”

Finally, I moaned to her that I was close, almost there.

Sure enough, she repeated the nipple torture on the left nipple, the twist and the clamp doing the same thing to my arousal as before.

She revived me again, taking the clamp off and rubbing me back to life.

It was sweet, submissive torture.

After I regained my erection after the left nipple got its treatment, she pulled my underwear down as far as the restraints would go. She straddled me, took my cock in her hand and rubbed it on her wet pussy. Again, she told me to tell her when I got close.

“It’ll be worse, Jason, if you lose control and come,” she said. “I won’t let you come for two weeks. You better tell me when you’re close.”

I moaned, wanting to tell her, to obey, but dying to let it go and get the sweet release my aching cock and balls were begging for.

I chose to obey, and told her I was close.

This time, she got off me, unfastened the restraints and told me to get on my knees.

She pulled my underwear off and began to smack my ass hard with her hand. As usual, this just turned me on more, and she reached underneath me to see if I was still hard. I was.

She grabbed our oval, oak paddle and placed it against my ass. I felt it leave, and with a loud crack, I felt it strike me. I collapsed on the bed, off my knees, the sting more than I expected.

“OW!”

“Get back on your knees, NOW,” she said. I quickly complied.

She put the paddle back against my ass, rubbing it from side to side. Again, with almost all her force, she paddled me. The crack reverberated through the room and it hurt so sharply I cried out again.

Rapidly, barely pausing between smacks, she gave me 10 more. My bottom ached and I felt the heat spread over my skin.

She reached underneath me, and my cock was still semi-erect. She swapped the oval paddle for a larger, heavier, sorority type.

“Ok, a few more. Back on your knees, please.”

I did as I was told, elevating my ass, submitting it to the paddle.

From previous experience, I knew when I felt the next smack it was as hard as she could deliver. I moaned, very loudly, and felt tears sting the corners of my eyes. Four more just like that one followed. All I could think of was the burning and aching in my ass.

She reached underneath me again, and felt me flaccid.

“Turn over, Jason. On your back.”

I did as I was told, the cool sheets feeling good against my burning skin.

This time, she took my soft penis in her mouth and caressed it. I sprang to life, my cock getting hard in seconds, as the sudden shift from pain to pleasure made me dizzy.

She bobbed on my cock, in smooth, fast strokes, then abruptly stopped.

“Tell me, Jason, when you’re close. Don’t you DARE come.”

She resumed her mouth action, but I quickly stopped her.

“I’m about to come, Mistress. I can’t help it. I’m so very close.”

She stopped.

“Back on your knees, Jason.”

I groaned as I flipped over and presented my ass again.

It was the same process again…hard smacks, a quick feel of my dripping, throbbing, semi-erection, then more hard smacks, then some killer-hard smacks to finish the deal.

Finally, mercifully, she told me to roll over. I had tears in my eyes as I did so.

My balls ached. They were heavy and achy and sore. Even rubbing them hurt a little, but sure enough, she stroked me back to a rock-hard erection.

She stopped again, and paddled me again, my ass cherry-red and really burning.

Then the same process…I rolled back over and she kissed me all over, touching me and arousing me.

The next time I told her I was close, she told me to bend over some pillows. I heard her grab the lube and rub it all over the plug. I groaned when I felt its tip against my anus, and I moaned as she quickly inserted it.

The pressure was intense, and I gasped for breath as she fucked me with it, pushing it in and out. She felt my cock as she did so, feeling it eventually get soft from the intense pressure, the pain from the fullness of the plug in my ass.

Again, she stopped, and stroked me back to the brink of orgasm.

I lost track of the cycle. Once, she straddled my hips and put my cock in her pussy. It took all my control not to come. After that came the flogger, as she used it to created stinging explosions on my bottom.

Finally, after an hour or two, she told me my learning experience was over and told me if I begged enough, she would give me release.

I wasted no time, begging her earnestly to please let me finish and come.

She leaned back against the pillows.

“Ok, if you want to do it, do it. I’m just going to watch. I want to watch you stroke your own cock for me and come on yourself.”

I did as I was told, furiously stroking before she could change her mind.

Mere seconds later, I erupted, come shooting on my stomach and chest. The release after the five days of denial and two hours of torture was immense.

She just watched me and smiled. I knew enough to savor this orgasm, because there wasn’t any telling when she would allow me to have another one.

©JRH 1995-2011