The Tag

Randy delights in finding new twists for our spanking adventures and last week, he devised a fine one.

Even before he walked through the door on Friday evening, I knew he had spanking on his mind. We had somewhat indiscreetly discussed our plans over the telephone earlier in the day. It was all I could do to avoid disturbing coworkers in the neighboring cubes by giggling at his outrageously lewd suggestions. Yes, I was certain that I was in for a premium spanking complete with all the trimmings.

I could scarcely think of anything else for most of the afternoon. Finally, I left after deciding that my productivity had dwindled to zero. Once at home, I didn’t accomplish much in the two hours remaining before our torrid reunion. I answered some e-mails and prepared a post for the blog, but it felt as though I was simply going through the motions. I was going to be spanked, and well spanked at that. It was coming soon, but not soon enough. I fidgeted in my chair while imagining what it was going to feel like to have a very sore, hot bottom.

When Randy did arrive, he burst through the door with a shriek of exuberance. He was home, it was the weekend, and it was finally time for fun. I stood up just in time to be engulfed in a vigorous embrace. We kissed with the passion of familiar lovers as he pulled me close. His hands roamed quite naturally to my twin orbs. He squeezed, rubbed, kneaded, and lightly swatted them through my skirt.

“Young lady, are you ready to assume the position?” he asked me in the gruffest tone he could muster.

“Yes, sir, I am.” I wasn’t about to back out now.

“Very well then. Proceed directly to the hall of discipline and prepare yourself.” Following his command, I walked upstairs to our bedroom and removed my clothing. I then knelt on the bed with my bottom high in the air and facing the door.

Once I was in my receptive position, I didn’t have to wait long. Randy often leaves me to ponder my fate, presumably so the butterflies in my stomach can grow and multiply. But on this evening, we were both eager to get started.

“Ah, now that’s what I like to see…” My lover’s voice faded as his fingers lightly danced across my naked skin. I shivered with anticipatory delight. One moment, he was caressing my cheek and the next he was kneading the small of my back. He knelt to kiss me on the neck, just behind my right ear. Those dancing fingers played me like a fine instrument. Then, just as I had almost decided that his gentle attention was all I really needed, Randy’s open palm made forceful contact with my bottom.

The slapping sound of flesh striking flesh echoed around our bedroom even as the pleasant pain shattered my peaceful trance. Again, he applied his hand to spank my undulating globes. The second time, I was better prepared to accept this spicy gift. My man began a familiar pattern of left, right, left, right. He made quite certain that no part of my well padded seat was left unblemished.

Once he was satisfied with his efforts, Randy sat on the side of the bed and beckoned me to lie across his lap. Despite the fact that the Vermont County Store bath brush of doom was in plain sight, I willingly complied.

I found myself face down in this classic punishment position. I had been there many, many times over the years. I knew that all that had come before was merely preparation. The burning I felt in my posterior would surely soon be re-ignited.

Yet, when he resumed, Randy again spanked me with his hand. Make no mistake, these were hard swats, but they were not quite what I had expected. As he spanked, Randy delivered a fun monologue. My memory is less than perfect, especially under these circumstances, but I believe it went something like this.

“You know I read that blog of yours. You know… The one where you wrote something like eight hundred posts about SPANKING.” He punctuated each word with a brisk slap across my backside.

“Yes, I know how you and your friends pay tribute to joys of a red bottom. By the time I finish with you, you ought to be downright ecstatic.” I knew at very least that I would have a fine tale to share.

“Queen of spanking? Did I read that right? Well, this queen might be a little precarious on her throne for a while.” His voice had a playful tone, but his aim was deadly accurate.

After several more minutes of this one-sided banter, I sensed him reaching for the dreaded bath brush of doom. I considered asking whether that was really necessary, but I knew that inquiry would only exacerbate my predicament. The brush immediately raised the level of the spanking considerably. I could remain stoic no longer. I screeched as Randy brought the brush down with astonishing results. In all, he probably swung this vaunted weapon of ass destruction less than twenty times, but the resulting fiery sensations left me breathless and stunned by the pure intensity.

My next memory was Randy rubbing my scorched skin with his hand. Now his voice was soothing.

“You have such a beautiful bottom, and it’s just made for spankings… So soft. So smooth. So curvy. So warm. So red.”

He stretched to retrieve a tube of moisturizing cream from my bedside table. After removing the cap, he squeezed a liberal amount directly onto each of my two sore spots. As he massaged it in, I was vividly reminded of the narrow line between pain and pleasure. Even the light pressure of his fingertips really hurt. But it felt sooooo good. These sensations, as well as Randy’s straying probes, fed a carnal craving that had been building all day.

Before long, we were beneath the sheets and savoring a coital banquet. Our lovemaking following a good spanking is much more enthusiastic than at other times. So it was on this occasion.

After snuggling and talking and laughing for a while, we decided to get up. Earlier in the week, we had discussed dinner and a movie. I was feeling energized and that seemed like a great idea. So we cleaned up and got dressed. After I had pulled on a comfortable pair of jeans, Randy told me to stop and turn around. I was in no need of any further spanking, but I played along anyway. I could feel him tie something to the belt loop in the center of my back.

“What is it?” I wondered aloud.

“Go see for yourself,” was my man’s unhelpful reply.

I went into the bathroom and twisted around to see in the mirror a small piece of red fabric tied to my belt loop. It looked as though it might have once been part of a kerchief.

“OK, I looked. So what is it?”

Smiling now, Randy replied, “It’s your tag.”

“My what?”

“It’s a spanking tag. It means that you’re walking around with a freshly spanked bottom.”

“I get it. It’s sort of a sign. Like gay guys and the hanky code. But what good is it if no one knows?”

“We know. Besides, I have a good friend who runs a popular spanking blog and she can tell everybody about the spanking tag.”

“OK. Let’s go get some dinner…”