A Black (and Blue) Friday Spanking

This week’s lesson is don’t be late for a spanking. Readers of this blog may remember that Randy and I have a standing date every Friday evening. I call it a standing date because sitting is always uncomfortable by the time it’s over.

I had the day off on Black Friday and a plan of action. There was a very special gift that I wanted to buy for our granddaughter. It’s available only at one store in the mall. I figured Black Friday shopping would be crazy, but I was determined to get this item before they sold out. I waited until late afternoon in hopes that the worst of the crowds would have moved on. Wrong! I did finally obtain this high demand gift, but I spent a lot longer at the mall than I anticipated.

When I returned home, I was surprised to see that Randy was there before me. He greeted me with a stern expression and a heavy hardwood hairbrush in hand. He kissed me on the forehead and said, “Bon, you’re tardy and you will have to be punished.” His tone was serious, but the twinkle in his eye told me that he was looking forward to the evening’s festivities as much as I was.

After I had a much needed bathroom break, we moved upstairs. He sat on the corner of our marriage bed and summoned me to join him. He still gripped that wicked brush. I asked permission to activate the audio recorder on my tablet and he agreed. I then lowered myself face down over his lap and into the traditional spankee position.

When he lifted my long skirt, Randy broke character and exclaimed, “Oh, I love these panties. They make your butt look so spankable!” I had selected a white, high-waisted cotton thong with little red hearts. I knew he would like it.

Quickly though, he returned to his serious disciplinarian mode. He started to lecture as he rubbed the smooth back of the implement against my exposed cheeks. It felt cool, at least for the moment.

“Young lady, how many times have we talked about the importance of being punctual?”

“Many times.”

“And how many times have I had to beat your bottom over just this issue?”

“Many.”

“And what shall I do with you this time?”

“Spank me?”

“Oh yes, you’re going to get spanked, and thoroughly too. But I believe you need an additional reminder. Something special to help you remember. Do you know what that is?”

“No Sir.”

“After I wear out your bottom with this hairbrush, you’re going to get six strokes with the cane. Do you think that’s a fair punishment?”

“If you say so, Sir.”

“Then let’s begin.”

If there was a warm up, it was imperceptible to me. From the beginning, he shocked my bare skin with that infernal brush, striking about once every two to three seconds. This steady but relatively moderate pace allowed time for me to process the pain from each stinging swat before the next one fell. He alternated sides for a while and then delivered repeated hard blows to one particular spot before moving on. As is his usual practice, special attention was directed down low to my sit spots. From this point forward, my dialog was mostly unintelligible as I struggled to cope with a long and painful spanking. However, Randy had several pearls that would have been lost on me were it not for the recorder.

“You’re a good girl, but sometimes you simply need a hard spanking on your bare bottom.” (True)

“If I didn’t spank you every week, there’s no telling what would happen.” (I would be disappointed)

“Now c’mon, you act like this hurts.” (Dammit, it does hurt!)

“How embarrassing is it for you to be spanked like a little girl?” (Enough to be enjoyable)

“You know you love this.” (OK, you caught me – I love everything about it)

“That’s a very red bottom. I’ll bet it’s going to be sore.” (Going to be?)

For all his bluster, the caning afterward wasn’t that big a deal. It stung, but after such a thorough going over with the brush, the pain receptors in my bottom must have been worn out. The entire spanking probably lasted less than fifteen minutes, but it transported my psyche to a different dimension. By the end, he could have done almost anything and I would have gladly accepted it.

After the customary flash photography, my Prince Charming declared, “I’m hungry. Let’s go out and get some dinner.” Ugh. Men. I convinced him to give me a few minutes to recompose my spirit not to mention my face. I had to take a few moments to admire the lovely shade he painted my bottom. I found the raised ridges with my fingers, and thrilled at the ache as I pressed against my warm skin. I just got a spanking, I thought, and it was a really good one. My mind was at peace. I could happily slip off to sleep or maybe some gentle lovemaking and then sleep. But it was not to be, at least not yet.

As soon a joined Randy downstairs, he whisked me out the door and into the car. Dinner was fine, I think. At least I don’t remember anything not fine. Mostly, I remember squirming atop a very unforgiving chair. We talked over dinner, but I can’t recall any details. He was very sweet.

After returning home, we finished the evening in the best possible ways. Remarkably, I had no visible marks the next morning, though the delicious residual soreness stayed around a while longer.

As for Black Friday, I’m through. From here on, I’m a Cyber Monday gal!