A Celebratory Spanking

I promised to share the details of my recent birthday spanking. It happened on a Wednesday evening after work and before dinner.

When Randy closed up his work for the day, he announced that it was spanking time. I knew it was my birthday. We’d even talked about it. But I was busy with my own work and didn’t really ponder our celebration. Even when he mentioned a spanking, I envisioned one of our regular over-the-couch skirt-flipper variety. He just glared at me until I grasped his meaning. Oh, yeah, that spanking.

He escorted me to the basement where our spanking bench was already set up. Mercifully, he let me retain my clothes. It’s cold down there! I placed my wrists and ankles into the restraining cuffs as Randy secured them. I wasn’t going anywhere now.

He then lifted my skirt to reveal my bare bottom in preparation for spanking me. This is real, I thought. I saw the long punishment cane hanging on the wall near the bench. I expected that I would soon feel its blazing mark a whole lot of times.

But no. Spankings from Randy are seldom quite that simple. I should know that by now. When the first swat landed on my left cheek, it felt familiar – warm, stinging, good. After the second smarting swat landed on my other side, I broke the code. That lovely ouch was generated by my favorite leather paddle.

Randy counted as he totaled up my accumulated years. As usual, his counting skills were inexplicably deficient resulting in numerous uncounted impacts. But this spanking while painful was not unpleasant. I struggled against the bonds, but there was no place I would rather be. I absorbed many extra swats “to grow on.”

By the time he finally released me, my bottom was extremely warm to the touch, and it did get touched, a lot and in the best possible ways. Yes, this was a fine birthday.