A Slice of (Spanko) Life

I’m sorry that I was mostly absent this week. I returned from a week’s vacation to learn that I was a week behind on everything. I’ve been playing catch-up ever since. Anyhow, I hope to get some time this weekend to devote to the blog and to my correspondence. If you’ve sent me an e-mail and I haven’t responded yet, I ask for your understanding. I’m getting there.

In the meantime, here’s a quick little spanking vignette. This conversation happened last night. I recreated the dialog from memory, so it may not have happened precisely like this. But I believe I accurately captured the spirit of the moment.

(We were sitting at the dining room table enjoying a very tasty Chinese dinner for which I slaved over a hot steering wheel)

R: What would you do if I got up from this chair, pulled your pants down, and spanked your ass?

B: What would I do? I guess I’d have to wonder what I did to deserve such stern treatment.

R: What if it didn’t matter?

B: It always matters, at least to me. My fantasies are driven less by the sheer pain of a spanking than by the emotions that it evokes. Without a reason, it’s just a sore bottom.

R: So, do you want it to be like punishment?

B: No, not exactly. I like the fantasy that I’m being spanked because I’ve misbehaved. It’s better if I somehow deserve it.

R: Yeah, I know that part. I also know that you don’t really deserve it, but that’s not a problem for me. I really like to turn your butt bright red and then f___ you hard.

B: I especially love it when you talk to me, like when you tell me how I’ve richly earned each swat.

R: Pull your jeans down, young lady. Panties too. And bend over that counter. We’re going to deal with this right now.

(I readily comply)

R: It’s high time we had some discipline around here. And in this house, you know that means a bare-bottomed spanking, don’t you?

B: Yes… Sir.

R: What happens when you misbehave?

B: I get spankings.

R: That’s correct. Now grab onto the far lip of the counter island and wait for me.

(Randy disappeared momentarily and then returned with a cushion. He placed it between me and the edge of the counter. Even when he blisters my bottom, he’s still thoughtful.)

R: Since you’ve been especially bad, I’m going to have to use my belt.

I next heard the delicious sound of a leather belt quickly snaking its way through belt loops as he removed it. Employing the doubled belt, Randy beat my exposed posterior as made me count off twenty five hard strokes. Each strike yielded a loud crack that made an impression in my psyche as deep as the corresponding blow did on my rapidly reddening target.

At some points, I could hardly croak out the next number. He warned me twice that he would repeat any stroke that I failed to number. Even so, my spanking was over fairly quickly. When I rose from the counter, now damp with my perspiration, my hands clung to my punished rear. From the top of my crack to the tops of my thighs, my skin was marked and burning. But my heart was light and my lust was raging.

We retired to the bedroom (after hastily dealing with the remains of dinner). Once there, Randy abandoned any pretense of foreplay and got right to work. After that vigorous spanking, my body was quite receptive. I pulled him close as he lay atop me. It felt soooo good. I would, at that moment, have gladly signed away my every right and possession just to let these sensations continue a while longer.

For us, there is no better lovemaking that the sessions that immediately follow a good hard spanking. At those times, our passion is supercharged and our desire is irresistible. Even this morning, I am reminded of how much fun we had. Every time I sit, the memories come rushing back with a deep intake of breath and a barely audible coo. I’m happy today. Happier, in fact, than I’ve been in weeks. I love weekends!