Divide and Conquer (Part Two)

Readers who wish to follow the story from the beginning are encouraged to start here.

I love being an empty-nester. I miss our daughter sometimes, but not so much that I wish she were back with us full time. Happily, she is grown and has her own life now. Randy and I are free to seek our own adventures. …and what adventures! Those were the thoughts that passed through my mind as I floated down the misty passage that divides dreams from consciousness.

I became aware that I was alone in a strange bed. Randy had left, but his spot beside me retained some of his warmth. It was still dark, though I felt as though I had slept for days. I fumbled to find the clock radio and to my surprise, it read 9:43. AM or PM? Could we have missed a whole day? That seemed impossible.

I rose from the bed and threw open the heavy drapes. What I saw outside was not night at all, but rather a dark morning with a heavy rain storm in progress. I shook off the drowsiness and worked to get my bearings. Randy was in the shower. We had a performance to attend at one o’clock. This was vacation.

When Randy emerged from the bathroom, he shot me a sly smile. The gleam in his eye told me that he had plans for me. He told me that he was glad I was awake. Still naked as the day he was born, I could see that his gladness was genuine. He encouraged me to lie across his lap. Sleepy but willing, I did so. My lover delivered four nice crisp swats on the fullest part of my bottom before abruptly halting.

“This won’t do.” His voice was serious.

“What? Why?” I stammered in hopes of somehow remedying whatever stood between me and this lovely little hand spanking.

“Too loud. Get up and lie flat on the bed.”

His wish was my command. I arranged myself prostrate in the center of the bed. Randy then moved me closer to the edge and separated my legs so that my feet were apart. He produced from his bag the same crop he had employed so effectively the previous evening.

He began this spanking with light flicking snaps all over my bottom. This hurt, to be sure, but these transient stings merely stimulated my spanko appetite. After a while, my man turned up the intensity. Particularly memorable were several blows to my seldom spanked inner slopes. Eventually, he had me jumping with each strike of the leather tip. By the time he completed his fleshy artwork in crimson, my entire bottom was alight with a toasty glow.

We made love at the edge of the bed. I knelt facing the center of the bed and he took me from behind while standing. I adore this position. I always feel very submissive and completely filled by his love.

I enjoyed a quick but refreshing shower. Afterward, I couldn’t resist admiring my fresh marks in the mirror. Randy did a nice job. My entire bottom was covered in red blotches, and it felt just like it looked. As I turned a bit father, I noticed one wayward crop head impact about two or three inches down my right thigh. That, I recalled, must have happened when I jumped.

Next, I prepared myself for the day. We had tickets to two performances. I thought my long flower print skirt and a sleeveless pink top would be perfect for a steamy summer day. Once again, my husband, lover, and self-styled fashion consultant intervened.

“How about those white shorts?” he inquired hopefully.

“No way!” I had no desire to show off my marks in a public place.

“Really? What not?” His tone was more curious than insistent.

“I don’t want my marks to show.” I tried to sound firm.

“You don’t know anybody within a hundred miles. Besides, if someone asks, you can tell them you sat in brambles.” I could tell he was proud of this witty comeback.

“Brambles? Are you insane? Why would anyone sit in brambles?” I was a lot more amused than I was showing at this point.

“Maybe you lost your balance?” I was fighting back a giggle.

“OK. Since when do brambles leave a mark like this?” With that, I whirled around and pointed to the mark in question.

He smacked the spot hard with his hand.

“Hey! No fair.”

“Now it looks like brambles. Put on your white shorts.”

I decided that I had been defeated by inferior logic. I put on the shorts over my obligatory thong. I hadn’t even finished buttoning them before Randy told me how beautiful he thought I looked. He was again all over me, squeezing my very sore posterior, massaging my breasts, and kissing my neck. I would consider selling those shorts as an aphrodisiac, except that they appear to work on only one man.

As I was applying makeup, I twisted around to check how apparent the mark was. It was plenty visible well below the bottom hem of my shorts. Anyone who had ever spanked or been spanked with a crop would probably recognize the pattern. I figured the dark thong would be very visible as well, but the thicker denim was opaque. Unlike the previous evening, only the thin outline was discernable.

Having missed breakfast entirely, we wandered out into the rain in search of lunch. We found a small restaurant down a side street about a block from the theater. They offered a varied menu organized around the concept of Pan-Mediterranean cuisine. This, I learned, meant an ambitious combination of Spanish, French, Italian, Greek, Middle Eastern, and North African specialties. Feeling bold after his morning conquest, Randy opted for falafel (complete with the chef’s secret sauce). I ordered the house salad with olives and feta. Both were tastefully presented and sustaining (They weren’t all that great, but I’m telling a story here, OK?).

What I will recall about this particular establishment, however, was not the food, but the seating. They had chairs where the seat was a dome-like metal grid. This design could not have been comfortable for the majority of patrons who had not been recently spanked. As for me, I could hardy keep still. My bottom was quite tender and that chair didn’t help at all. Randy observed my discomfort and appeared more amused than concerned.

We arrived at the theater in reasonably dry condition about a half hour before the curtain. This gave us time to look around the many exhibits before finding our seats. This play was a drama. The story was rather sad, but the message was a positive one. Again, the performers were wonderful. It was a young cast and they managed to totally immerse me in the story.

After the show, we hung out in a very cool bookstore until it was time for dinner. This experience reminded me of how much I miss independent booksellers. Their slow, agonizing demise at the hands of chains and the internet is a real loss for anyone who loves books.

Perhaps it was just my imagination, but I thought there was one younger fellow who was spying on me in the bookstore. By this time, my telltale welt had faded, but it wasn’t entirely gone. When I mentioned this to Randy, he laughed and told me that *he* was definitely staring at my butt through the stacks.

Our dinner was the landmark meal of the trip. We drove out to a local winery that also serves gourmet dinners. We had what I can describe only as a four course feast. It made me glad I had a salad for lunch. The appetizer was sautéed wild mushrooms with herbs. The salad was mixed organic greens with peppercorn dressing. For the main course, I ordered baked tilapia. Randy enjoyed a broiled lobster tail. It was all excellent. I thought I had no room for dessert until they brought the dark chocolate mousse with an assortment of fresh berries. Randy didn’t have to remind me that it was full of healthy anti-oxidants. Just wow!

Our evening show was a rollicking musical comedy, complete with plenty of singing and dancing. The costumes were splendid and the cast seemed to be genuinely having fun. This infectious happiness spread into the audience to make this a fine night out and an appropriate conclusion to our theater trip.

It was a long, hot, tiring day and by the end of it, I was ready to fall into bed. Even so, Randy still had the energy to kiss and lick what was left of my welts. This felt good, especially when it devolved into oral sex. Looking back, I have to admit that, despite my complaints, I too find Randy’s unusual brand of spanko exhibitionism a turn-on. It was a pleasurable day and one to be remembered.

The following day’s drive home was uneventful and largely anticlimactic. We were still tired, but it was hard not to smile at our good fortune. We agreed to plan these escapes more often.

Keywords: spanking, vacation spanking, riding crop, spanking story, spanking and sex, Bonnie, erotic spanking

Divide and Conquer (Part One)

Every summer, Randy and I visit a popular theater festival in another state. We renewed that lovely tradition last week. The three plays we saw were all excellent and the casts, sets, costumes, and staging were superb. We shared several exquisite meals as well as some all too rare quiet time together. It was such a great outing that we are already looking forward to next year’s trip.

Regular readers probably won’t be surprised to learn that the week included some spanking as well. There were several spankings in fact. Before we left on Tuesday morning, Randy caught me coming out of the shower. Knowing the man as I do, I figured that a pre-trip bun warming was a distinct possibility. Nevertheless, he managed to surprise me by choosing a moment when my mind was racing in several directions other than spanking.

I walked out of the bathroom, still slightly damp and with my hair wrapped in a towel. I looked up to see him seated on the bed, facing me, clutching a wooden hairbrush in his strong right hand. He clearly intended to take me over his lap and spank me. I started to turn around and head back from whence I came, but his voice stopped me.

“Wait just a minute…” His pitch rose as he enunciated the word “just.”

I froze in mid-step. I knew my fate was sealed.

“I believe you and I have some business to transact.”

He sure knows how to make it sound romantic, doesn’t he? Nevertheless, I turned to face my destiny. Without additional hesitation, I lowered myself into that familiar position. I was face down across his lap with my unclothed bottom optimally angled to accept the coming onslaught.

Our session was brief, but shockingly intense. The curved handled brush delivers a powerful, burning wallop and with repeated application turns the recipient’s posterior a fiery red hue. By the time he let me up, I was clutching my scalded flesh in a futile effort to stem the pain. I felt thoroughly spanked.

As I was working to regain my composure, Randy grabbed a department store bag from the top of his dresser. He tossed it to me. I opened the slick, shiny plastic bag and removed from it four black cotton thongs. The store tags were still attached.

My first thought was how wonderful it is to have a sweet husband who buys me sexy underwear even after all these years. My second thought was that he probably expects me to wear these thongs on the trip and then use that as an excuse to spank at every opportunity.

I was, of course, correct on both counts. Randy announced that he wanted me to wear these new thongs on the trip. I asked if I could please wash them first and he agreed that there should be enough time before we left. However, he asked that I wear one pair when we departed.

As it turned out, this was not my dear husband’s only fashion mandate. He wanted me to wear a pair of light tan canvas slacks. I think he thought he was being sly, but I immediately recognized his game. He wanted me to show off my well tended bottom for him and the rest of the world, framed by a very visible dark thong.

As with so many of his plans, I felt simultaneously horrified and thrilled. On one hand, I really didn’t need to be paraded around like a prime cut of meat. I’m a grandmother! Yet, on the other hand, something deep within my submissive core desired to be that meat. I wanted my curvy body to inspire impure thoughts in complete strangers.

Perhaps I could have begged off, but I made no attempt. In fact, I even packed a favorite pair of white shorts.

By the time my newest lingerie came out of the dryer, I was otherwise packed and ready to go. I slid one pair over and into my recently toasted bottom. The feeling of the warm fabric gently separating my cheeks caused me to shiver with anticipation. I was now due the full treatment and I wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less.

A quick check in the mirror revealed that the tan slacks were every bit as translucent as Randy had envisioned. The T-shaped top of my black cotton thong was clearly visible in back. I pondered for a brief instant the possibility of modeling this new look for my man, but I decided that would probably delay our departure even further. After all, we did have tickets for a performance that evening.

My bottom was still quite tender when we set out for our four hour drive. But the weather was pleasant and the highway was inviting. Under the right circumstances, I love a road trip. I like to watch the cars and trucks, mountains and pastures, signs and sights. You can learn a lot about people and the way they live by driving along a two lane road. By the time we arrived at our destination, I felt surprisingly energized.

We chose an established hotel chain for our accommodations on this trip. The previous time we attended this event, we stayed at a cute little bed and breakfast. The old house was downright charming, as were our hosts, but the thin walls and lack of privacy definitely inhibited some of our noisier vacation activities. To our delight, our new room was located at the end of a long hall on the top floor. Other than the housekeeping staff, we saw barely saw another soul the entire time.

Once inside the room, Randy insisted upon carrying out one of his favorite traditions. He likes to inaugurate a new dwelling by reddening my seat. In the name of good fun and all that inevitably follows, I eagerly played along.

I started to remove my slacks in preparation for the inevitable, but he told me that he would rather I left them on this time. He said he “liked the look.” My man positioned me on hands and knees in the middle of the carpeted floor. From his bag, he produced our black leather riding crop. It’s an effective toy in terms of spanking, but by no means excessive. I rather like its savage kiss.

“Crack” went the leather tip as it impacted against my lightly covered bottom. I flinched, but maintained my position. Again, he snapped the whip against my opposite side. This too hurt, but in a delicious sort of way. I tipped my hips to invite more of the same. He did not disappoint.

The blows now fell slowly and at irregular intervals such that I could not anticipate when or where the next one would fall. He turned on the television to provide us with a little aural cover. Randy then straddled my waist facing my burning derriere. He applied the crop again with skillful aim and just the right level of severity. Now craving the wicked burn, I felt as though I wanted all he would give me.

The next thing I recall, I was on the bed, on my back, without clothing, and accepting a very different sort of gift. My fingers dug into my lover’s back as we were overtaken by the hazy otherworldliness of a breathless coupling. The preceding act had been welcome and necessary. This phase, though, dripped with erotic indulgence. It was deep, sensual luxury. Somehow dirty, yet wholesome, and fulfilling, but promising more. Mmmmm.

I would have been quite content to drift off to sleep beside my life partner, but Randy reminded me that we had tickets for a performance in just ninety minutes and we hadn’t eaten since lunch. Faced with this practical conundrum, I chose to abandon for the moment my dreams of slumber.

Randy and I shared a quick but tasty meal at a storefront café. I had a grilled chicken avocado salad with a honey vinaigrette dressing. Randy chose a deli sandwich with kettle chips. I enjoyed again being in the company of theater people. There were as many characters in the restaurant as we saw on stage. We smiled as a very demonstrative gay patron informed everyone within earshot how pedestrian he thought the bouillabaisse had been. As far as I could tell, that item wasn’t even on the menu. Later, an older woman instructed her waitress with great precision about the temperature at which her soup should be served. Unfortunately, we had to leave before learning whether it was to her liking.

As we walked to the theater, Randy seemed to dawdle. I thought we were in a bit of hurry, but you couldn’t discern that fact from his leisurely pace. Finally, I said to him, “C’mon, shouldn’t we get going?” He laughed and replied, “Yeah, but I love looking at your beautiful ass in those pants.”

I suppose it’s nice to be appreciated.

The play was a classic British comedy. It was appropriately serious about being silly and silly about being serious. There were many laughs and we thoroughly enjoyed the production.

We stopped for dessert in the same café after the show. I have a weakness for chocolate and for cheesecake. The two combined in the proper proportions can be pure heaven. This rendition was happiness on a small plate. I ate it slowly in hopes of savoring every morsel. I would tell you what Randy ordered, except that I have no idea. The cheesecake was that good!

The conclusion of Divide and Conquer can be found here.

Keywords: spanking, vacation spanking, hairbrush spanking, riding crop, spanking story, spanking and sex, Bonnie, erotic spanking

Shower Power

Have you ever tried spanking while in the shower? If not, you might enjoy it.

Randy and I shared a shower spanking the other evening and it was definitely good, clean fun. On his way home from work, he called me and told me to strip and lie on the bed. This instruction made me think I was in for one of his spanko-bondage frolics. When he arrived a few minutes later, I was in the designated position and state of nudity.

I was a little surprised, but certainly not dismayed, when he removed his clothing as well. Once he was as naked as I was, he knelt down, kissed my cheek, and whispered in my ear, “Shower time.” I leapt from the bed with enthusiasm. This was a game we both enjoy and we hadn’t played this way in ages.

It was a bit tight with two people sharing a shower designed for one. But closeness was definitely part of the attraction. We embraced and kissed passionately as the warm water flowed around and between us, caressing our glistening skin. His hands became reacquainted with my rounded landscape. My hands stroked his handsome face as I stared once again into those captivating eyes. We recognized one another as partners, as traveling companions through life, and as lovers. As he squeezed me tightly, I rededicated myself to him with head, heart, body, spirit, and soul.

We next took turns washing and rinsing one another. This was fun. We laughed as the suds went all over. It turned out that some areas required considerably more lathering than others.

Once we were thoroughly clean, he began to spank me with his stiff right palm. His pace was leisurely at first, but gained momentum as he progressed. His left arm still encircled my waist. He pulled me in close, even as he struck my wet bottom again and again. It hurt, to be sure, but it was such a sweet sting that I could only pant my approval.

Again he kissed me as our tongues danced and darted. Then, as if one body, we pivoted together and turned so that the water jet was running directly down my back. Randy paused the spanking long enough to adjust the temperature of the shower. It was now much warmer than before. Likewise, the spanking intensified after he retrieved a wooden bath brush from the adjacent countertop. The sound produced by the impact of this hardwood implement against my wet skin was nearly as shocking as the swat itself. The loud CRACK reverberated around our bathroom as if it were an echo chamber.

Randy now spanked in earnest employing short, quick strokes. I clung tightly to him as he continued to light up my bottom. By the time he decided I had accepted enough, I was dancing from the sheer intensity of the burn he had administered.

When we emerged from the shower, our bathroom was positively fogbound. This poor visibility didn’t prevent me from wiping down the mirror in hopes of gaining a peek at the condition of my punished posterior. I could discern that it was quite red, a bright crimson hue in fact. The combination of powerful strokes and hot water had brought a vivid color to my skin.

Before I could consider what Randy intended to do next, he led me out into the bedroom and onto our bed. He positioned me on all fours atop the comforter. “Stay right there,” he declared. I was mentally preparing myself for more spanking, but my lover had a different idea. As I stared at the far wall, I saw a bright flash originating behind me. He took my picture!

“I want to remember you just like this,” Randy said with a smirk.

I started to raise an objection, but he countered by rolling me onto my back and delivering the kind of oral pleasure that could redress any grievance. Using a technique he knows so well, he kneaded my throbbing cheeks as he lapped at my love nub. My climax came suddenly and with great force. He left me woozy and nearly breathless.

A short while later, it was his turn. We moved under the covers where we enjoyed a deliciously slow coital coupling. As I felt my man above me and within me, I knew that all was as it should be. I was content, satisfied, and recharged. I couldn’t help but smile.

So, have you tried a shower spanking?

Keywords: spanking, shower spanking, bath brush spanking, spanking story, spanking and sex, Bonnie, erotic spanking

The Bikini Incident

It’s taken me a week to finish it, but here is the new account I’ve been promising.

There are women who look fantastic in a bikini. There are even a few my age who still outshine the younger gals.

But that’s not me. I gave up the two piece look after our daughter was born and for good reason. I simply wasn’t comfortable with my appearance. I have stretch marks. They’ve faded with the passage of time, but they’ll always be with me. In one way, I carry them like a badge of achievement. We brought a life into the world and she turned out very, very well. I’m proud of our daughter and grateful for the opportunity to have played a major role in her life.

And yet, I wish somehow I could be the smooth skinned, sexy wife that Randy married so long ago.

For the record, Randy has never complained. He loves my body. He always has. Anytime I’m naked, or even partially so, in his presence, his hands are immediately upon me. I love his touch as much as he loves to touch me. Many nights, before we fall asleep, he spoons me and lightly runs his fingertips along the curve of my hip and down onto my thighs. Even if there is no lovemaking, it makes me feel wanted and appreciated in a physical way.

- - - -
After our very successful June Cleaver night, Randy decided to expand the concept. He loved how I took a simple proposal and carried it out to its logical conclusion. He never expected that I would put so much effort into making my costume authentic. About a week after June’s big night, Randy proposed a slightly different arrangement. He wanted to tap into my spanko creativity. For a change, I would pick the setting, mood, implements, and general tone. The guidelines were (a) it should be something he would find original and attractive, (b) it should be a surprise, (c) my spending for it couldn’t exceed $100, and (d) the events had to include him giving me a spanking (and presumably the traditional coupling afterward).

I was immediately intrigued and perplexed. What, I wondered, hadn’t we already done? We figured out once that he has spanked me well over a thousand times. Each occasion was special in its own way, but most tend to follow a relatively few basic themes. My challenge was to conceive and execute a truly unique plan.

It had to be something he would never expect. As you’ve already no doubt guessed, I bought a bikini. I dreaded the whole department store ordeal, but once I started thinking in terms of lingerie and convinced myself that no one other than Randy would ever see the suit, I rather enjoyed trying on different styles. I even got a bit silly all by myself in the dressing room. I craned my neck around to catch a glimpse of my barely covered bottom line as I danced in front of the mirror. “Not so terrible,” I thought.

After I concluded my secret one person fashion show, I selected an off-white bikini bottom that was narrow at the hip and left plenty exposed around back. The matching top was the classic triangle halter style. Both pieces had cute string ties. The fit was nice and snug, but not tight. Yes, I believed this would generate just the reaction I sought.

I was pleased when the young clerk didn’t even bat an eye as she rang up my purchase. If she thought it was an unusual choice for a “mature” customer, she gave no hint. We engaged in a little meaningless small talk and soon enough, I was on my way home.

In the car, I thought, “I own a bikini.” Why, I wondered, did that sentence sound so weird? I practically lived at the pool during the summers of my high school years. I always wore a two piece bathing suit back then. All of us did. Yet, all these years later, it felt as though I was going back to a place where I had vowed not to tread. Ultimately, I determined that it was for a good cause. I knew Randy would enjoy it and we would have a lot of fun.

- - - -
The magic day came on Friday. I arrived home even earlier than usual to ensure that all of my preparations would be in place when my lover returned. I undressed completely and then slipped into my new bikini. I made bows with each of the ties and pulled my long, white terrycloth robe over the top.

Upstairs in the bedroom, I selected a small, round leather paddle as our spanking implement of choice. When vigorous applied, it generates a lovely sting and leaves behind a delicious warm glow. This, I thought would do nicely. I placed the paddle near the edge of the bed such that it would be close at hand when needed. I also set out a vibrating sex toy and some general purpose lubricant. These I arranged on Randy’s bedside table.

I inserted a CD with surf music into our player. What better accompaniment could there be for this occasion?

When I wandered back downstairs, the clock told me I still had 45 minutes to kill. I made some sandwiches for later. Then I checked my e-mail. I had plenty to do, but I was occupied with nervousness and hoping that everything would be perfect. Finally, I ended up playing a silly online Mah Jongg game.

I jumped from my chair when I heard the garage door open. Randy was home and it was time to put my plan into operation. I greeted him in the kitchen as usual.

“What’s with the bathrobe?” He inquired with a smile. He knew this was our special night and that I had planned a surprise. He was about to find out.

I nonchalantly rolled my eyes and said, “I dunno. It’s just comfortable.”

“C’mere…” was all he said before embracing me with a bear-like hug. As he pulled me toward him, his hands explored the outside of the robe. “What have we here?” he asked in a knowing tone.

“Why don’t you unwrap your present and find out?”

He took a deep breath as he parted the robed. His lips were formed in the shape one would use to make the sound, “Ooooo,” yet he uttered not a word. He slid the robe off of my shoulders, removed it from my arms and placed it over the back of a kitchen chair. He took a half a step back as if to drink in the sight before him.

“Wow, that’s hot. Will you model it for me?”

I thought he’d never ask. I did my best runway strut and wiggle into the living room and then turned to return. Randy’s praise was gushing and genuine. It made me feel terrific. At least I can still be sexy for him!

We kissed passionately for several minutes as roaming hands reacquainted themselves with familiar locales. It soon became clear to me that without immediate intervention stage two might never happen.

“Let’s go upstairs,” I said breathlessly. Randy answered with his feet and up we went. When he spotted the small leather spanking paddle on the bed, my lover picked it up and exclaimed, “Oh yeah. This will be just right.” Without further encouragement, I activated the CD player and then took my position over his lap at the edge of the bed.

Our dreams were fulfilled one solid whack at time. It was a simply splendid spanking. In Randy’s skillful hand, the little paddle ignited a burning, lustful arousal deep within me. He too found great carnal inspiration in swatting and rubbing both the cute little bikini bottom and the curvy flesh that escaped out the sides. Eventually, though, he tired of the suit’s interference and pulled the crotch up my crack thong-style. So efficient was this move, I don’t think he even missed a whack!

Now working against my bare skin, the paddle made a healthy “thwack” sound with each stinging impact. I loved it! Had Randy decided to spank all evening, I don’t believe I would have objected.

When he determined that my skin was the proper hue, he tossed the paddle aside and pulled down my bikini bottom. My man then guided me into a hands and knees position at the edge of the bed. His dancing fingers confirmed my undeniable state of readiness. I shrieked as much with thrill as with surprise when he plunged deep inside me in a single stroke. I cooed and panted as his deep pumping action released both pain and pleasure. Every forward stroke brought his torso in forceful contact with my freshly spanked cheeks. However, this acute discomfort only served to push me closer to my inevitable release. When it arrived, I shook to the point where I could barely support myself. Soon after, Randy too gained satisfaction.

We recovered our wind and our senses lying on the bed in each others’ arms. The first words were his.

“Wow. You’re way hot, bikini girl.”

I rubbed my toasty bottom, smiled, and nodded in agreement. And so I was…

Keywords: spanking, roleplay spanking, bikini spanking, spanking story, spanking and sex, Bonnie, erotic spanking

Just Now

Ouch! I have a nice, soft cushion on my computer chair, but it isn’t helping at the moment. Less than thirty minutes ago, Randy spanked me over his lap right here in this chair. My bottom really hurts.

When he arrived home, I was up here in the computer room answering some e-mail. He poked his head around the corner and said, “Are you sitting in front of that computer again?”

For whatever reason, I just had to tease him. “Well, there isn’t much room behind it!”

Now slightly annoyed, my man repeated his inquiry with a perceptibly sharper tone.

I didn’t understand why he would ask that question. The answer was perfectly obvious.

Then I uttered the fateful words. “So what are you going to do about it?” I meant it to be funny, and perhaps it was, but it was also precisely the wrong thing to say if I had any desire to avoid a first class bun warming.

Randy left the room, only to return a few moments later carrying the dogleg brush. I swallowed hard when I saw what he was holding. This was sure to be serious. He told me to get up. When I did, he sat in my chair and quickly pulled me down across his lap.

Many spanking photos depict the spanker seated in a straight, armless chair while his spankee is over his lap balanced on her fingers and toes. What they don’t show is how uncomfortable and precarious this position can be.

As soon as the brush impacted against the seat of my canvas shorts for the first time, my level of discomfort rose considerably. Randy usually spanks on the bare. But on those rare occasions when he leaves my target covered, he feels the need to compensate for the extra padding by holding nothing back. My shorts and underwear offered minimal protection against the deluge of heavy swats that now rained down upon my poor bottom.

Randy spanked hard and fast, wielding the fierce punishment brush with a skill gained through years of experience. The onslaught was so intense that I could barely catch my breath, let alone yell. Over and over, he aimed squarely for those two spots where I sit down.

The whole thing probably lasted no more than a few minutes. It happened so quickly that the pain is only now starting to fully register. When he lifted me up and set me back on my feet, I was speechless. He told me that he had a couple of errands to run and that he would return to finish with me later. He kissed me and then he was gone.

So here I am, sitting quite gingerly, and feeling totally spanked. Rubbing doesn’t seem to do much good. Ow! When I look up, I notice that Randy conveniently left the brush sitting on top of my monitor. Its purpose, no doubt, is to serve as a reminder. For the next several hours, however, I believe I will have all the reminders I need.

I can’t wait to find out what it means to “finish with me…”

Postscript (5/31 Quarter to Morning): When Randy returned home, he demonstrated how sweet he can be. He had me lie on the bed, and then gently kissed and carressed my sore spots. Before he was done, he had visited several other locales that weren't sore at all. We made love beneath the covers and it was very satisfying.

My bottom still hurts this morning, but it's a hurt I love. There's simply nothing better than a theraputic spanking to lift my spirits and put a smile on my face. Today will be a good day!

Keywords: spanking, hairbrush spanking, sore bottom, spanking story, Bonnie, OTK spanking

Slippery When Wet

Friday evening is our traditional time for adult fun and games. Randy had mentioned the previous day that he had “something in mind.” When he says that, it usually means generous portions of spanking and lovemaking. I pondered the possibilities as I drove home from work. Knowing my husband as I do, almost anything was possible. It does little good to speculate, but the spanko mind simply has to wonder about the fate of the spanko bottom.

We work slightly different hours so I arrive at home about two hours before Randy. This gives me an opportunity to tidy up the house, do some chores, catch up with the blog, and make myself presentable. On this evening, however, he was already home when I arrived.

Randy greeted me with a luscious kiss, much as I often do with him. We embraced for more than a minute as hands and fingers explored and caressed. We both knew at that moment that our passion could be neither contained nor deferred. Randy took my hand and led me to our bedroom.

I think I must have gasped when I spied his intricate preparations. My lover had spread a plasticized tablecloth over the center of our bed. Arrayed around it was a collection of assorted love toys.

“Well?” He inquired, knowing that I understood the question.

“I guess I had better lose these clothes,” I replied sheepishly. He nodded his affirmation.

I was wearing an expensive business suit that I didn’t want to damage, so I removed the jacket, blouse, and skirt and folded each carefully before setting them on a chair. I fiddled several seconds with my necklace before releasing the clasp and putting it safely away.

Randy was now tapping his foot impatiently. I knew he was mostly kidding, but I still felt compelled to step up my pace. I slid out of my pantyhose, pulled off my slip, yanked down my panties, and unfastened my bra. With one quick toss in the general direction of the hamper, I was now ready for action.

My lover gently guided me down onto the bed. I hadn’t noticed previously that there was a pillow beneath the center of the plastic tablecloth. I arranged myself so that my pelvis was directly over it and my bottom was jutting upward. I was now as prepared as possible given the circumstances.

Upon first contact, the flowered tablecloth seemed cool and slick. Within a few short minutes, though, it felt warm and sticky on my bare skin. I soon learned its purpose.

Randy began by generously applying scented massage oil to my back, shoulders, and neck. The strong, rich smell of vanilla filled the air. The rotating motion of his palms relaxed my muscles even as his dancing fingertips ignited my carnal imagination. I exhaled deeply, expelling the troubles and stresses of a long week.

After a while, he moved down to my hips, thighs, and bottom, liberally applying oil as he proceeded. I absolutely love to have my bottom rubbed and kneaded and caressed. To my delight, Randy gave me all of this and more. This part of the massage lasted probably ten minutes. The entire time, I expected him to switch over to spanking, but he didn’t.

I shivered with glee as his slick fingers probed my willing orifices. He parted my cheeks to gain complete access to my feminine treasures. I opened my legs to aid in his quest. Soon the oil mixed with my own lubrication to yield a slippery sweet confection. All the while, I panted my desire.

I next became aware of a dull object pressing at my most private opening. It was a smooth rubber plug. Once I relaxed, it slid in without too much effort. I felt filled in a most decadent way. There are times when I would prefer to skip the anal play. But on this evening, the plug served to draw out and accentuate out my basic submissiveness.

Now, finally, I figured Randy was ready to spank. He even went into the bathroom and washed off his hands. But it was not to be, at least not yet. He applied more scented oil to my hindquarters, patting and squeezing as he rubbed it into my skin. Again, I adored all of the wonderful sensations of being massaged in this most erogenous zone. But where, I wondered, was the spanking? Had my dear mate turned as vanilla as the oil he employed? Surely it couldn’t be so.

And, of course, it wasn’t so. At a certain point, my man decided that the time had come to move ahead. He popped out the butt plug, set it aside, and began to swat my bottom using both of his hands. As if playing a slick, fleshy bongo drum, he spanked with a fast cadence and a hard stroke. Each time one of his hands impacted against my slippery slopes, it produced a resounding “Crack!”

After a minute or two, he stopped long enough to admire the crimson glow and radiant heat he had generated. Then, he was back to spanking with the same two-handed alternating style as before. The blows stung, but not unbearably so. In fact, I rather fancied this slightly jarring departure from the state of relaxation he previously induced.

After a while, my Prince Charming slowed his pace and mixed in more of that splendid stroking. By now, all of the stimulation had me in a state of profound horniness. He could have done virtually anything to me and I would have accepted it graciously.

I knew the spanking was over when I heard the sound of Randy removing his pants. Once he too was naked, he approached me from behind and climbed on my back. I raised my hips and tipped my pelvis to bid him welcome. When he joined with me, I moaned with pleasure. I didn’t care who might hear. His strong hands latched onto the meaty portion of my hips and pulled me backward even he thrust forward. The result was several electrifying climaxes for me. He too found his explosive release deep within me.

After the action had concluded, we shared a leisurely shower, complete with more touching, more spanking, and a lovely round of "swallow the sword." There was one particularly memorable moment when we tightly embraced and professed our love as water cascaded down over our faces. Clean seldom feels quite this satisfying.

Later in the evening, we dressed and went out for dinner. It was a pleasant meal, but I think we were both a bit preoccupied by all that had preceded it. I was so relaxed that I was ready to go to bed almost as soon as we returned home. It’s great to be able to leave the week’s stresses behind.

Lesson: I will never again giggle when someone enters the search term "vanilla spanking."

Keywords: spanking, romantic spanking, spanking story, spanking and sex, Bonnie, erotic spanking

June's Big Adventure

It seems like forever ago that I described Randy's plan to recreate an evening in the Cleaver household. Basically, he wanted me to play the role of June Cleaver, the fictional 1950s housewife from the sitcom, Leave It to Beaver. Once he recognized that I was intrigued by the assignment, he left most of the details to me. We had set a date, but a series of unforeseen distractions caused us to postpone it twice. I finally got to be June last Saturday evening. This is the tale of what happened.

When I was first given this assignment, I spent some time researching my character and her costume. I loved the idea of being elegant but submissive, and practical yet ditzy. I could easily imagine how an OTK spanking might fit well into that scenario.

The clothes ended up being the most challenging element. I rejoiced at finding a 1950s-style green and white plaid shirt dress. It was a cotton blend, rather than the wool numbers that June often wore, but it was close enough. I already had a white nylon full slip and a pair of stockings. I had planned to wear my garter belt with the stockings, but the readers convinced me that a girdle was a necessity.

So shopping I went. I found a full-figured bra that was apparently designed to evoke memories of the Golden Gate Bridge. Better still, I actually located an open-bottomed girdle, complete with garters. Both bra and girdle were utilitarian white.

I enhanced the look with a pair of avocado green pumps. This seemed like precisely the sort of impractical footwear that June might wear around the house.

When the magical day arrived, I prepared my look as carefully as if I were about to appear on stage. I wanted everything to be perfect, or as close as I could achieve. I showered in mid-afternoon in order to ensure that everything would be ready when Randy returned from work around 5:30. When I walked out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel on my head, I shivered with anticipation. There on the bed lay all of the clothing I had assembled for this special evening.

The bra was bulky and didn't fit quite right, but it wasn't uncomfortable. I matched it with a pair of full cut white nylon briefs. The girdle, basically an elastic tube, was a challenge to get into. Despite buying a larger size than I thought I needed, it still put up a good fight. I attached my stockings to the garters dangling from each side. Over the top went my lacy full slip.

The dress was quite comfortable and fit great over my newly molded curves. I took a moment to admire the look in the mirror. I didn't linger long though, because much work remained. I turned next to my hair and makeup. My hair is naturally straight and shoulder length. After much debate and a failed experiment with styling gel (I had visions of Marlo Thomas), I gave up and pulled it up into a bun. I applied my makeup a little heavier than normal and finished with some cardinal red lipstick I purchased for the occasion.

I stepped into my new pumps, put on the obligatory string of pearls (with earrings to match!), and headed downstairs. To finish the June character, I found a favorite apron in the kitchen and tied it around my waist. I couldn't help wandering into the lavatory to check myself in the mirror. It felt very strange to sit, move, and walk in that girdle. I don't how my mother and her friends tolerated it all the time. Perhaps one gets used to it, but I surely didn't.

Just then, the telephone rang. I could see on the caller ID that it was Randy.

"Hello, Cleaver residence!" I answered in a cheery tone.

He just laughed. He promised to bring home some Chinese food for dinner. The first thought to enter my head was how advantageous it was to have a dinner that would be easy to reheat later.

Randy didn't arrive until about a half hour later. I spent this time nervously fidgeting and working at nothing. I knew it would be a fun evening, but I was impatient for it to begin.

"Hi Honey, I'm home," he crooned as he climbed the stairs from the garage. I met him in the kitchen with a big smile and arms outstretched. I would normally have kissed him, but it seemed better to allow my man to observe the results of my preparations.

"Wow. Just wow. You're totally June Cleaver."

With that, he embraced me and proceeded to inspect my body with his hands. With each new discovery, he would whisper a naughty nothing into my ear. He told me that he wanted to take June behind closed doors and violate her in all the ways she loves. I tittered with eagerness.

Before long, he was lightly swatting my bottom with his open hand as the opposite arm held me in his embrace. I might as well have been wearing a suit of armor. Even his firmer swats were ineffectual.

"I'll have to paddle you later. Right now, though, I'd like a favor from June."

This phrase needed no translation. His meaning was quite clear. I motioned for him to sit in a chair next to the kitchen table. I then knelt in front of him, lowered his zipper, and liberated his joystick. I paused only long enough to retrieve a small cushion for my knees before focusing my carnal attentions in earnest. I squeezed his shaft between my tongue and the roof of my mouth as I slid the former back and forth. Randy moaned in appreciation. I served him well.

I put the Chinese food in the refrigerator and we moved the dance to our bedroom.

"June, what's this I hear about you not tending to the Beaver's grooming?"

I couldn't help it. I laughed.

"Do you think it's funny? Don't you care about trimming the Beaver's hair?"

By now, I was rolling on the bed in hysterics. I wanted to role play, but this was just so silly!

"When was the last time you scrubbed the Beaver? Cleanliness is very important you know." By this time, Randy was laughing almost as hard as I was.

"We certainly wouldn't want the Beaver to get an infection."

After a couple minutes, the hilarity died down enough for Randy to continue with his program. "I can see that I'm going to have to spank you for your willful neglect of the Beaver."

Randy sat on the edge of the bed and dragged me over his lap. He raised my dress and slip and tried spanking with his hand over the girdle. Again, this approach proved inadequate. He asked me to lift my torso for a moment. When I complied, he unhitched my stockings and shoved my girdle upward. Now, with only my flimsy nylon panties for protection, his swats again delivered the delicious sting to which I am accustomed.

It wasn't an especially long spanking. Nor was it particularly hard. But this spanking was quite memorable because we laughed our way through it. We covered every possible variation involving mistreatment of a Beaver and discussed each in detail. I can honestly say this spanking made me cry, but it had nothing to do with the pain.

He accused me of teaching the Beaver to hum, letting the Beaver slide, working the Beaver too hard, and so forth. We both laughed until our stomachs ached.

When we settled down a little, Randy had me lie on my back on the bed. He spread my legs and gave the Beaver an impressive tongue lashing (I'm sorry, we just can't help it!). Even through my panties, his technique yielded the desired results.

Before long, the girdle, panties, and stockings were all discarded. Standing on the floor, my lover grabbed my thighs and pulled me to the side of the bed. He entered me swiftly and begin an exquisite pumping action where his strong arms pulled me toward him just as his hips thrust forward. The combination of depth and velocity drove me over the edge and into a sea of coital bliss.

Our June Cleaver night didn't quite go according to script, but it was a success nonetheless. Yesterday, Randy shared another fun scenario hatched within his fertile mind. Rather than telegraph it again and make everyone wait, I believe I'll save it instead as a special surprise. So, stay tuned to this station!

Keywords: spanking, roleplay spanking, fifties spanking, spanking story, spanking and sex, Bonnie, erotic spanking

Equestrian Memories

While sorting through old boxes last weekend, I found a diskette containing some archived spanking stories. Here's a tale of spankings past...

It must have been around 1984 because I recall our daughter being a real toddler terror. My mother volunteered to take her off our hands for half a day. Randy, sweet then as now, planned a fun afternoon for us. As a girl, I always adored horses. I took riding lessons for several years. On this day, Randy had a planned a riding getaway.

No sooner had Randy returned from dropping off our little tyke than he began some amorous overtures. Never one to let an opportunity go to waste, I joined right in. Next thing I knew, I was over his lap getting reintroduced to my wooden hairbrush. He really warmed my tail. It had been quite a long time since I had gotten such a thorough tanning. Spankings were, by necessity, less frequent in those days.

After some torrid afternoon lovemaking, Randy suddenly jumped from the bed. He realized that we were in danger of being late for our ride. Quickly, we donned our clothes and headed out. Thanks to light traffic and his lack of attention to speed limits, we made it.

Upon our arrival, we talked briefly with the proprietor, met the horses, and got saddled up. As soon as my tender bottom touched that saddle, I knew I was in for a long afternoon. With every step, it was as though I was being spanked all over again. Ouch!

We followed a beautiful trail that wound along the banks of a scenic river. We had been there once before, but it was during a different season. On this day, it was glorious springtime. The birds were back and wildflowers were exploding everywhere. The river was brown and swollen from spring rains. But the sun was out and the trail was dry. The horses were gentle and predictable (this was good, because Randy never did quite get the hang of riding). Saddle sore or not, this was a fine day!

We rode for two whole hours. By the time we returned, I felt as though my poor posterior might fall off. I can remember being very sore for days afterward. Did I regret a minute? Not really. Getting spanked was and is part of my life, and a good part at that. That telltale twinge when I sit reminds me of the love we share. On this particular occasion, his love was never in doubt.

We haven't been riding in years. Maybe it's time...

Keywords: spanking, hairbrush spanking, equestrian spanking, spanking story, spanking and sex, Bonnie, erotic spanking

Jekyll and Hyde

Randy and I spent some time last evening with Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde. As with their fictional namesakes, they are one in the same. In this instance, however, Jekyll and Hyde is the nickname we gave to a rather unusual spanking implement. It’s a black rubber paddle. Depending upon how it’s applied, it can resemble the good doctor or the fiendish freak. Last night I became better acquainted with both.

About the time I was expecting Randy to arrive home from work, the telephone rang. When I saw his cell phone number pop up, I figured he was about to tell me not to prepare any dinner because he was going to be delayed at work. Well, he didn’t mention dinner. He told me instead to go to our bedroom and wait for him on the bed. He was on his way home and would arrive shortly.

“Oh goody,” I thought. “It’s playtime!” I had a spring in my step as I bounded up the stairs. Any residual fatigue from a busy day at work was forgotten. Randy and I haven’t shared nearly enough together time over the past couple of months. While it might not be possible to erase this deficit in one evening, I was willing to try.

After a few frantic moments of straightening up (once a mom, always a mom), I settled down on the bed. I left my clothing on because I didn’t know exactly what he had in mind. In any case, I rationalized, it could be shed quickly should the situation demand it.

When I heard the garage door open, I turned over and pushed my face into the pillow. This is how I wanted my lover to find me – ready for whatever merriment he desired.

A few minutes later, my dear husband appeared in the doorway. He paused for a moment before speaking. “Very good. Very good indeed,” he observed, as if to himself. He gently kissed the back of my neck. I felt the palm of his hand rub and then lightly swat the back of my skirt. But only once did he make contact before heading toward our toy collection. He rummaged through a drawer as though on a mission. He was clearly searching for a specific implement. As you’ve no doubt deduced, it was Jekyll and Hyde.

“This should do quite nicely,” he chortled as he directed my gaze toward the paddle. He smacked his hand as if to remind me of its potential. “It’s specially designed for spanking a woman’s ass and making it hurt. Do you know that’s exactly what’s about to happen to you?”

“Yes,” I acknowledged.

“So, tell me what you want…”

“I want…” I paused, but only briefly. “I want you to spank me.” My voice was hushed yet deliberate.

The paddle slammed against my bottom. I recoiled from the impact, but it was not unpleasant. Again, the flexible toy struck the back of my skirt. Protected as I was by a couple of layers of fabric, this spanking was quite tolerable. It hurt, but in a deliciously warm, stinging sort of way.

The rubber paddle is quite unique as a spanking implement. It has more play than wood, but less than leather. At the same time, it’s heavier than leather, but somewhat less so than wood. The result is plenty of sting, accompanied by a more than adequate dose of ache.

Randy continued to spank as he knelt beside me on the bed. His pace was slow, but the swats were substantial. Within about five minutes, he had lit an impressive flame.

I was already quite enamored by his percussive attention when the game suddenly changed. Randy lifted my skirt and pulled down my pantyhose and underwear. I was fully exposed. Never one to miss an obvious opportunity, my dear husband launched a rapid fire attack against my bare posterior. It was at this moment that Mister Hyde appeared. One of the characteristics of rubber, when used in a spanking implement, is that it is very tough on the skin of one's bottom. It tends to catch and tug in a manner that is very painful for the recipient.

My screaming did little to inhibit Randy’s continued whacking. He didn’t stop until he was convinced that I was completely and utterly spanked. By that time, I was nearly overcome by the blazing discomfort he was inflicting.

After he dropped the paddle on the bed, Randy lay down beside me. He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tightly. I welcomed his comforting touch. He had hurt me, but in such a good way. I was a little disoriented by the sheer intensity of the experience. But in time, I settled into a warm, peaceful place. I nestled my face into his strong chest as his hands soothed and caressed my body.

After a while, Randy removed first my clothes and then his own. We crawled under the covered and made love. This simple, sensual act completed our celebration in a most wonderful fashion. For at least those few minutes, the world’s problems and burdens were gone.

Now all I have to worry about is whether I can sit without betraying my bottom’s very tender condition. Thank you, Randy. I needed that!

Keywords: spanking, paddle, rubber paddle, spanking story, spanking and sex, Bonnie, erotic spanking

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!

Obsession Detection Reflection Correction

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! I hope you and your partner are enjoying a day of love, lust, and adult recreation. I thought this would be a fine time to post my most recent spanking account. Alas, it doesn't have a Valentine's theme. If you prefer a topical spanking, try this story or this one.

Last week, I posted a poll with relatively little accompanying explanation. The poll questioned whether I was obsessed with the subject of spanking. I’d like to now relate the rest of the story.

The tale began about two weeks ago as I was sitting at the computer and busying myself with answering e-mails and laying out the first of our Implement Series posts. Randy popped into the room, observed what I was doing, and commented, “You’re obsessed with spanking.” His tone didn’t even hint of criticism. In fact, I believe he was probably amused by the thought.

Still, that’s a serious charge to drop on someone. To make matters worse, he retreated before I had an opportunity to rebut his claim. Obsessed? I rolled the word around my brain as I stared blankly at the screen. What if it’s true? As moments passed, I became less certain of my own opinion.

An hour or so later, I confronted Randy about his remark. “Do you really think I’m obsessed?” I asked.

“Why, do you?” There are few things more annoying than a partner who answers a question with another question. He was smiling, but he appeared ready to verbally spar.

“No,” I replied definitively. I had now established my position. I mentally prepared myself to defend it.

“So, let’s ask your readers…” I was unprepared for this parry and demonstrated my overconfidence by agreeing. We decided that I would post a very simply worded poll. In addition, we agreed that the outcome would determine who chose the ground rules for a spanking session planned for the following weekend.

- - - - -
We now know that the readers believe, by a two to one margin, that Randy is correct. At least in their view, I am indeed obsessed with all things spanking. My dear husband had already promised me a “serious bare-bottomed spanking” should his position be validated. So it was to be.

Saturday evening was the appointed occasion for the payment of my debt. I felt slightly queasy with anticipation all day. I know this might sound silly to some readers because, after all, Randy has spanked me a thousand times before. I know full well that he won’t allow any harm to come to me, beyond the unavoidable posterior distress. Yet, I felt a certain trepidation as I worked though my weekend chores.

We watched a film on television early in the evening and not a word was spoken about what might follow. However, as soon as the credits rolled, Randy gave me explicit orders. We told me to go upstairs to our bedroom, strip, and lie face down on the bed. I considered those words to be fair warning that I was due for the full treatment.

I walked upstairs and positioned my nude body prone atop the bed, just as I had been instructed. As is his habit, Randy waited several minutes before joining me. I presume this time is intended to allow me to fully contemplate my fate, but it’s equally possible that he simply finds something else to temporarily occupy his attention.

Oddly, I didn’t hear Randy on the stairs. My first awareness of his presence was the sound of his hand slowly turning the doorknob to our bedroom. I jumped with surprise. When he walked through the doorway, I was no longer in my designated spot, but had rolled over to see him enter.

“Get back down on that bed like I told you.” His voice was clear and strong. Though his message was mildly scolding, his tone was playful. Obediently, I buried my head in my pillow. My man uttered something about extra strokes, but I was ready to just take my spanking and get it done.

Randy, of course, had other ideas. What I felt next was not a spanking implement striking against my bottom, but his rough hands massaging my shoulders, neck, and upper back. I can’t deny that these sensations felt wonderful, but they had the effect of turning up my nervous tension another notch. Soon, he was repeatedly kissing my skin in conjunction with the rubbing. I gasped when he nibbled my earlobe. If he sought to draw out my carnal desire, it surely worked. But I couldn’t escape that gnawing sense of worried expectation.

When the inevitable spanking came, Randy began by applying his hand. The swats were not only quite tolerable, they felt great. He struck the meaty portion of my bottom just hard enough to raise a nice sting. I entertained the fleeting thought that perhaps I had won the wager after all.

Randy soon after switched to the crop. Our crop is relatively short and light. Unlike the standard equestrian variety, this whip is not terribly severe. With flicking blows, he added punctuation to his earlier message. It definitely hurt, but I was enjoying every minute.

After about five minutes or so (it’s hard to judge time when someone is beating your bottom), Randy brought in the heavy artillery in the form of our dogleg hairbrush. This is such an effective and memorable spanking tool that I chose to feature it for the Implement Stories logo. Little did I realize that my selection would provide inspiration for this event.

The hard, smooth brush generates very different sensations than the crop that preceded it. It’s sufficiently heavy that it inflames the deep tissues of the buttocks as well as the surface. Each impact of the brush yields a loud “thwack” sound. For the recipient, every blow produces an intense, burning pain. After three or four solid swats, I was ready to escape. Fortunately or unfortunately, Randy’s steady left hand in the center of my lower back ensured that I would remain in place until I was thoroughly roasted. Unable to exit, I screamed instead. Undeterred, Randy continued to spank with a slow, regular pace.

Just about the time I thought that I couldn’t possibly accept any more, he dropped the brush. I felt limp. All of my emotions had been emptied out on that bed. Before I had any chance to regain my senses, Randy pulled me up to a hands and knees position by the end of the bed. When his hand explored between my thighs, he discovered a wellspring of desire. “Hmmmm…” He said as if somehow surprised by my body’s reaction to the vigorous spanking.

As he stood at the foot of the bed he grasped my hips, pulled me close, and entered me easily. As we proceeded to make love, the pleasurable coital joy was spiced with acute discomfort from the spanking each time his pelvis made contact with my freshly reddened bottom. I find this blend of sensations to be incredibly intoxicating. He too found his release as we bucked together in lovers’ bliss.

So there you have it. I would like to offer my thanks to everyone who voted, even those who just wanted to see me take a hard spanking. It’s unlikely that I will be making any more bets with Randy any time soon. The again, when one has an obsession, anything is possible.

Valentine’s Day is the perfect occasion to show your love! I encourage you to make it an occasion to remember.

Keywords: spanking, hairbrush, crop, spanking story, spanking and sex, Bonnie, spanking bet

Obsessed? Moi?

You would think I might know better than wagering with Randy, but I did it again! Worse yet, the stakes are the same as previous occasions -- a serious bare-bottomed spanking.

One difference this time is that we're going to allow you, dear readers, to settle the bet.

Do you think Bonnie is obsessed with spanking? Let's see... 543 posts in sixteen months, all on the same topic. I'd say that qualifies No way! She's a healthy, active person with many varied interests Current Results

Please consider your answer carefully. My ability to sit hangs in the balance!

Keywords: spanking poll, Bonnie, spanking, spanking obsession

The Surprise

There’s something special about getting a spanking that’s completely unexpected. Randy surprised me two nights ago in a most delightful manner.

Randy called me from work and suggested that we visit a favorite restaurant. I eagerly agreed. This particular establishment has a casual environment and a clever eclectic menu. It’s a family-run local business that we love to patronize.

Upon his arrival, my man greeted me with an especially long and passionate kiss. I suppose, in retrospect, that this should have been a tip-off, but my mind was elsewhere. As we were standing in the kitchen, ready to depart, he turned to me and said, “Wait, I forgot something.” As I heard my love bound up the stairs, I envisioned a misplaced wallet or elusive set of keys. He returned carrying instead our dogleg hairbrush. The game was on.

This particular spanking implement features an oval shaped, solid hardwood back. When applied to a woman's seat, it delivers a powerful, burning sting that seems quite out of proportion to its modest size. We’ve had it for more than ten years. Over that time, I believe it’s seen more use than any other bottom thrashing tool.

Randy had the brush gripped firmly in his right hand and the gleam in his eye told me that he planned to use it on my bottom. Almost unconsciously, my hands slipped behind me to cover his intended target. I moved slowly backward toward the wall.

“C’mon, Bon” he coaxed. “There’s no sense in delaying the inevitable.”

He was right, of course, but I hadn’t time to properly prepare myself for what was surely about to occur. I froze.

“I’m waiting…”

He expected me to come forward and voluntarily offer up my bottom. I hesitated still.

“Bon?”

“OK,” I squeaked in a small voice. He now stood before me with arms folded. I took one tentative step forward. My husband’s face looked serious, though not angry. He intended to spank hard and my delaying tactics weren’t helping.

I reached down with both hands to catch the hem of my skirt. I lifted it gradually as I turned away from him.

“Very good,” Randy said in an emotionless tone. His hand first touched and then rubbed my bottom through my nylon pantyhose. His digits worked in a circular motion, stopping to linger at the base of my canyon.

As I was becoming intoxicated by the sensuous luxury of his tender touch, the mood shifted. The hand disappeared and was replaced by a smooth, firm surface. I knew the cool aspects of the brush as well as the warm. Soon rubbing gave way to tapping, and ultimately, to swatting. Randy spanked my cheeks at least twenty times without a pause. It hurt to be sure, but his unhurried build-up allowed me the time I needed to fully embrace the pain of this magnificent spanking.

When he did pause, it was to lower my pantyhose and panties. With both gathered tightly around my thighs, I could not escape even if I wanted. Randy bent me forward from the waist and had me place my hands on a kitchen chair. Once in place, my bottom was perfectly positioned for further abuse.

Now working against my bare skin, the heat from the brush acquired a new urgency. Randy snapped his wrist as he spanked to yield extra sting. My familiarity with this technique did nothing to lessen the intensity of its result. He struck my exposed flesh a couple of dozen more times alternating sides as he continued. I tried my best not to tense up from the discomfort. Even so, I couldn’t help gritting my teeth and clenching my fists.

I knew the spanking had concluded only when I heard him place the rigid wooden instrument on the counter. Entranced by the proceedings, I stood motionless for several seconds before Randy helped me to regain an upright posture. I felt a little dizzy and quite detached as I clung to my lover. He embraced my limp body. When he kissed me this time, all manner of erotic thoughts drifted through my open consciousness. The spanking left my libido hyper-stimulated.

Randy surprised and startled me a second time when he whispered in my ear, “Let’s go get that dinner.” Eating was pretty near the end of my priority list at that moment. I looked into his gentle, calm eyes. I hoped he would pick up the immediacy of my desire. Instead, he chuckled at what must have been an expression of horror on my face.

“It’s OK,” he said with a soothing tone. It wasn’t really quite OK, I thought, but it might have to do. By now, Randy was gathering his jacket.

“Can I at least fix my face?” I inquired. “Sure,” he replied. Granted this small concession, I used those few minutes to restore my composure. I couldn’t resist the temptation of examining the condition of my punished cheeks in the bathroom mirror. As I suspected, they looked just as red and hot as they felt. This vivid display only served to heighten my hunger, though not for dinner.

Our dining experience was wonderful. Randy ordered a seafood stew and I had a huge mixed greens salad (with longastinos, capers, and pine nuts, and topped with a maple vinaigrette dressing!). Throughout the meal, my lover smiled each time I squirmed in my seat. We talked about everything except the real topic on both our minds.

Fortunately, the evening ended well. When we returned from the restaurant, Randy instructed me to go upstairs, get naked, and jump into bed. I didn’t wait to see whether he would change his mind. After he joined me in our bedroom, we coupled with gusto. The action was aggressive and vigorous. My lover took me from behind as his fingers kneaded my smarting posterior. I soon experienced a panting, shattering release. He too found satisfaction deep within me.

We snuggled until we both fell asleep. The joy brought about by a fine meal, pleasant conversation, a spanking, and sex gave way to pure exhaustion. We woke later in order to finish some chores, but the time we spent entangled in bed was a splendid escape from a busy week.

It was difficult to return to work the following morning, and not because it hurt to sit down (although it surely did). The closeness that Randy and I shared makes me long for more. This could prove to be a fun week…

Keywords: spanking, hairbrush spanking, spanking story, spanking and sex, Bonnie, My Bottom Smarts

The Kiss

As much as I adore rollicking, kinky fun, there’s something very special about a kiss. It’s just a kiss, but oh my, what a kiss can hold.

It’s a simple act. Two pairs of lips touch in unison. A kiss can be innocent, or it can be outrageously lusty.

A kiss, like an “aloha,” can either bid someone goodbye or welcome them home.

It’s so acceptable that it can be done with a child in church. Yet, a kiss is ideal for expressing the burning flames of sexual passion. It can speak a non-verbal command, suggestion, or request. One kiss can express love or need or comfort or support or affection or all of these emotions.

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When couples live together as long as Randy and I have, they develop certain routines. For us, there is the kiss. Most days, I arrive home from work an hour or two ahead of Randy. I use this time for errands, cleaning, cooking, or blogging. It’s my time to just be me.

When Randy returns, I make a point of greeting him in the kitchen with a kiss. We usually kiss before we speak and the nature of that kiss does a lot to shape the course of the evening ahead. Many days, one or both of us is tired. We share a familiar peck and a quick hug. Many times, he’ll pat my bottom as a reminder of the fun we share. Then we have dinner and often go our separate ways until bedtime.

Every so often, however, our kiss acts as a flashpoint. One adventurous tongue darts forth and is soon joined by its partner. Hands roam and fingers knead. Clothing descends amid rapid breathing. Now unleashed, our carnal craving will not subside short of sensual satisfaction.

Take last night, for example. All day long, I had been thinking about my man and the wonderful things he does to me. Sitting at my desk, my mind wandered. I shivered with delight as I imagined his hand sliding over my thigh. A moment later, I remembered where I was and resumed my work. Still, that undeniably erotic imagine was firmly embedded in my psyche.

When my lover arrived home, the kiss I had been saving for him spoke volumes about my intent and my state of mind. I placed my arms around his neck as his arms encircled my waist. His lips were soft and slightly moist. When they met my own, I could feel my excitement rising. Randy delivered a series of prolonged and deliberate smooches, each more sensuous than the one prior. I matched his pace as I began to massage his strong shoulders. By now, both of his hands were upon the seat of my slacks.

Feeling increasingly warm, I escalated the action by licking around the inside of his lips. He reciprocated by thrusting his tongue into my mouth. At that instant, I felt nearly overcome by blind desire. I was vaguely aware of a cool breeze on my legs as my pants fell. Two tongues, four lips, and four hands worked in unison to heighten our mutual stimulation.

I jumped with surprise when Randy’s solid palm clapped against my panty-covered bottom. He repeated this gesture using his right hand even as his left arm pulled my torso toward him. I could feel his undulating pelvis grinding against me. The impacts hurt, but I did not resist. I longed for these sensations.

A short time later, I found myself perched face down over Randy’s lap as he sat on our living room couch. My bottom tingled from his earlier attention. Before renewing his efforts, he admired my gluteal globes as he peeled back my underwear.

“What a luscious ass you have.” I thanked him, for lack of a more considered response.

My lover rubbed my bottom with both hands, pausing periodically to squeeze or swat. This delightful interlude went on for five or ten minutes as he enjoyed playing with my bottom and I luxuriated in his every touch.

Whack! Randy had obviously brought a light, stingy implement with him from the kitchen. What I later learned was a wooden spatula briskly slapped against my right cheek. He rearranged me on his lap, anchoring me by gripping my hip. The spatula struck the opposite side with what seemed like the power of a paddle. I wasn’t going anywhere until Randy decided my spanking was complete. This submissive notion triggered another wave of shivers. I signaled my continued willingness by arching my back so that my bottom was thrust upward. I invited more stinging blows and he did not disappoint.

The actual spanking probably lasted only ten minutes or so, but wow. I was in a submissive headspace such that time was irrelevant. I wanted him to spank me every bit as long and as hard as he wished. I felt as though I was completely his to handle in any way he chose. I wanted this spanking. I needed it. It had been too long between sessions and I wasn’t about to settle for less than everything.

The spatula is a fun toy. It generates plenty of sting and redness without the deep ache I associate with paddles and other heavier wooden implements. As a result, I felt as though I could go on and on. At least once, when Randy seemed like he was slowing down, I jutted my bottom upward again as if to request his burning salute. These kisses were a whole different variety, but no less welcome.

When my man determined that the spanking was over, he rolled me off of his lap and lowered me to the carpeted floor. There I sat, slightly woozy, and just looked at him. Before I knew what was happening, he had me on my back and was quickly removing the rest of my clothing. I gasped when he ran his thumbs over my sensitive nipples. His kisses now were those of an experienced lover, filled with intimate passion and expectant longing. I reached to embrace him, but he eluded my grasp. Now he was between my thighs, kissing and lapping at the very core of my sexuality. Energized from the spanking, it took only a few moments of this intense play before I found myself shaking with orgasmic joy.

Just when I thought I could take no more, he placed himself between my legs and thrust into me. I accommodated him easily as he let loose a groan of pleasure. We made love right there on the floor of our living room. Each time Randy drove into me, I could feel my well-spanked derriere slide across the carpet. Revisiting the pleasurable pain made all of the other sensations even more incredible.

When we finished, we lay together on the floor in the middle of the room for several minutes. We both felt spent in a most delicious way. Eventually, he retrieved my robe and we enjoyed a light dinner in front of the television.

This morning, Randy had the audacity to complain about rug burns on his knees! I can tell you that my own rug burns are more than a little touchy as well. Every time I sit today, my mind slips back to those sweet, magical moments.

Kiss your lover today. You’ll both be glad you did!

Keywords: spanking, spatula, spanking story, spanking and sex, Bonnie, oral sex