Once Upon A Loveseat

I was digging through the vault searching for a different story, but found this gem instead.

My husband, Randy, showed me a fine time Friday evening. This is the story of what happened.

When I arrived home at the end of a busier than usual week, I was surprised to see Randy's vehicle. He normally gets home several hours after I do. When I came up from the garage, he greeted me in much the fashion I often greet him, with a big, passionate kiss. I learned that he had taken several hours off because he too was ready for a weekend. Our daughter had already left to stay at her friend's house for the night. We both knew, as if by intuition, it was playtime!

The games began as Randy assumed a suddenly assertive tone. "Well, young lady, what have you to say for yourself?" Just catching on, I mumbled "Not much, I guess." "What do you think happens to a young woman who behaves as you have recently?" he inquired. Sheepishly, I replied "She gets a spanking." "What?" asked my Prince Charming feigning deafness. "She gets a spanking," I repeated with head hung. Randy told me that I was absolutely correct. He instructed me to go upstairs, change into my short, pink satin nightgown and a thong, and return carrying the sorority paddle.

I did precisely as he instructed. I really wanted this paddling. Randy led me into the living room. "We're just going to have to give you another lesson in discipline" he lectured. We don't do discipline or anything close. We both know this is all good fun and completely consensual. However, including some of the trappings of discipline once in a while makes for an interesting fantasy scene.

He bent me over the back of our loveseat (truly an apt name). While I lay there positioned for my paddling, vulnerable and exposed, the talk continued. "As I administer your punishment, young lady, I want to think about your transgressions and the consequences of behaving as you did. I assure you that you won't soon forget this little discussion." I must say, the man knows how to make my motor run.

Randy placed the wooden paddle against my skin. It felt cold and smooth. This was destined to be the last cold sensation I would feel in that vicinity for quite some time. He left it right there for at least a minute, presumably to remind me of what was to come. I needed no reminders. My mind was clearly focused.

My sorority paddle is long (almost thirty inches), but only about half an inch thick. It's quite the attention-getter when it impacts across my bare behind. For me, there's something tremendously stimulating about owning an implement whose sole purpose is to deliver an effective spanking.

In an instant, the paddling began. After about three full force swats, he said, "I do this not to hurt you, but to teach you." Again the report of the paddle reverberated in my ears as it performed its solemn task. "You must learn that willful misbehavior is wrong." Two more rapid strokes found my stinging sit-spot. "If you are unable to accept that truth, I expect to convince you, at very least, that each infraction will result in a severe paddling." Again, he punctuated his words with the paddle. I hadn't even done anything wrong and I was becoming pretty much convinced! "I am willing to paddle your bottom every day if that's what is required. Is that what it's going to take?" Despite the fact I was enjoying every sensation, I replied in the negative (but I DID think about it!).

On he went - talking and paddling; paddling and talking. It hurt a lot, but at no time was it intolerable. In fact, at one point, I found myself hoping he wouldn't stop too soon. He definitely didn't. Along the way, he managed to press every one of my buttons. At the conclusion, he paused and said, "Every time you sit for the next couple of days, I want to consider precisely how and why you were paddled." After one final whack of surprising intensity, Randy placed the wooden paddle on the floor beside me.

When he lowered my thong, I thought my spanking was over and the time had arrived for more subtle pursuits. I was half right. He sat on the loveseat and gently guided me across his lap. He was no longer the gruff disciplinarian, but instead my loving partner. Once I was in the classic position, he delivered a long, slow spanking with his hand. Normally, his hand isn't very effective, but the paddle had softened my defenses considerably. Between slaps, Randy took the opportunity to reacquaint his fingers with my reception area. I was a most willing participant in this delightful pastime.

After the hand spanking had run its course, Randy again positioned me across the back of the loveseat. I wondered momentarily if I was due for another session with paddle. He didn't make me ponder this question for long. He approached me from behind and firmly attached a hand to each of my hips. Our lovemaking was explosive. Pleasurable sensations overtook the pain and then blended into a symphony of sensuous radiance. I was one with my lover.

After the excitement subsided, we gathered our clothes and toys and then retired to our bed. We lay there in silence with limbs entangled. Never do I feel more secure than at a time like this. The whole event was simply wonderful.

By the way, when Randy suggested that I would vividly recall my experiences for a couple days, he was right! It takes two pillows to keep those memories from becoming too fresh.

Keywords: spanking, paddling, paddle spanking, spanking stories