Reassertion

It's been coming for a long time, all summer in fact. 2021 has been one unpleasant blow after another. On June 29, the mercury reached 116 F degrees in what had always been our temperate paradise. Our aquatic wildlife is dying. Wildfires continue to destroy our precious forests. A lifelong friend finally succumbed after a long struggle with breast cancer. There are protests in the streets with little hope of resolution. Worries at work for Randy. An unexpected appliance replacement. Beloved businesses closing. And COVID. Damned COVID and the purveyors of death who actively promote its spread. If normalcy returns, it won’t be this year. It’s too much for me.

Spankings, even the serious kind, can’t fix everything, but I needed something to shake me out of my funk. I decided to ask Randy to help me, knowing full well what that could entail. The sort of spanking I needed was not the fun, sexy variety that I thoroughly enjoy. No, it had to be the opposite of that.

He readily agreed. We talked briefly and aligned our expectations. This had to be a session that I wouldn’t soon forget.

It began early on Saturday afternoon. He had delivered our weekly spanking the evening before. It hurt to be sure, but I felt no lasting effects the following day. Randy instructed me to go upstairs to our bedroom, strip completely naked, and sit on the bed. Already we diverged from the usual program. I complied. By the time I removed all of my clothes, I found myself shaking from a combination of nervousness and anticipation. It’s not fear, I told myself. Couldn’t be fear. And so, I waited.

My Prince Charming appeared after about ten minutes, but rather than dealing with me, he busied himself with setting up cameras, microphones, and lights. I wasn’t sure I wanted these very personal moments captured for eternity, but we had passed the point where I get to decide.

I wanted him to finish until he did finish and then I wanted him to go back to his gadgets. It’s funny how the mind works in moments of stress. He lined up the tools he would use to punish me. He placed them beside me in plain sight almost as a taunt. Would I chicken out? Would I freak out? Or would I close my eyes and just allow it to happen?

A solid wooden bath brush with an oval-shaped head. A pair of leather and fur cuffs. A tube of lubricant. A shiny black butt plug. A short length of plastic rope. Yeah, this was getting serious.

“Legs up,” he instructed as he lifted my ankles above my head as I flopped onto my back atop the bedspread. He placed a cuff over each ankle and strung the rope between them. He knotted the rope at each cuff to establish the maximum distance between them. Next, Randy handed me the two ends of the rope and told me to pull it tight and hold. I was now fully exposed and totally vulnerable.

Part of Randy’s head game is to convince me to be an active participant in my own punishment. Not only must I comply, not only do I consent, but I also have to contribute.

For a brief moment, before I faced the next test, my mind wandered to the cameras and how embarrassing it is to be captured this way. It only got worse when he inserted the plug all in one long slow push. I tried to relax my muscles, but it’s difficult to fight the natural urge to resist this intimate invasion.

So, there I was, in quite a predicament. I don’t think I was looking forward to the spanking, but I knew it was inevitable.

I wasn’t expecting a warm-up and I didn’t really get one, unless you consider hitting slightly less forcefully with that accursed brush. Many times it struck the stretched flesh of my lower bottom cheeks. This relentless stinging, throbbing, burning, aching pain fit my definition of a genuine punishment. It was way more intense than I like or want. But it was precisely what I needed, and I knew it, so I held my safeword in reserve. But did I scream repeatedly. Ow! He made my bottom hurt, a lot.

I thought we ought to be finished when he took a short break. But no, we weren’t. “I want you to count.” “Not fair,” I said under my breath. I was already hanging onto a rope and squeezing my battered butt cheeks so as to not lose the plug. Do I have to do everything? If he heard me, he didn’t acknowledge.

“One,” I blurted as the brush bruised my left cheek. “Two” quickly followed on the other side. Around ten, Randy began to torment me by calling out random numbers. As a result, I failed in my count several times resulting in extremely distressing upper thigh shots.

By the time he decided to conclude this corporal punishment ordeal, I had no idea what the count was or what it should be. My mind was muddled and my hindquarters were aflame. “OK, let’s get to the corner,” he said in a strangely matter of fact voice. I asked whether I could remove the plug, but he told me it was still very necessary.

I pushed myself up to a sitting position at the edge of the bed. He let me rest there for a moment to regain some semblance of bearings. The bedspread felt surprisingly rough against my skin. Next thing I knew, Randy was escorting me to the corner. He had me place my hands behind my back and hold the bath brush so it was visible for pictures. He moved the lights to better illuminate the source of my agony. Next, he had me bend over for some shots in that position.

After a while, I asked for permission to pee, and it was granted. I removed the plug so I could clean up. I was impressed by how marked my bottom was. I recognized that sitting was going to continue to be problematic for a while.

When I returned, Randy was packing up his equipment. I was happy to see it go. I was done. Well done, that is. I asked whether I could get dressed, and he said, “Sure.” Then he asked me to wait for him in the living room.

We sat on the couch and watched a football game. I lay across his lap, OTK style, with my skirt up as he rubbed soothing lotion into the areas that he just finished thrashing. After a while, I expressed my profound gratitude with lips, tongue, gums, and teeth.

This was a good spanking. It was a bad spanking. But most of all, it was a necessary spanking. A day later, I still see and feel the after effects – lightness, joy, optimism, clarity, contentment, and a double portion of soreness.