A Whole Different Spanking

Regular readers know that spankings are a common occurrence at our house. Randy spanks and I accept. For decades, we’ve enjoyed this stinging symmetry. But what if the rules were somehow changed? We strive to discover new spanking ideas with varying combinations of role play scenarios, implements, positions, locations, clothes, and rituals. But is there perhaps another, even more fundamental variation?

During our scheduled Friday evening spanking session, Randy and I explored this question. He knew the plan. I didn’t. Here’s a lightly edited transcription of an audio recording:

R: I see you followed my instructions exactly.

B: Yes, I’m wearing the short pleated mini-skirt and ruffled panties you set out.

R: Good girl.

B: I see you you have your camera.

R: Yes, that’s going to be another part of tonight’s fun.

B: And that [big nasty solid hardwood] brush?

R: Pick it up.

B: OK.

R: Now stand right here (indicating a spot on the carpet with his foot)

B: (steps forward and extends the brush, handle first)

R: Nope. Not tonight.

B: (confused) What?

R: You’re going to do the spanking tonight.

B: (annoyed) You’re kidding.

R: No, tonight you find out what it’s like to deliver a good hard spanking.

B: Um

R: Stand here and let me focus the camera.

B: Self spanking?

R: Bingo

B: Must I?

R: We’ll do it together.

B: I don’t...

R: Now spread your legs a little bit more. Lean forward. Good. Now swat your bottom hard with the back of the brush.

B: (swat)

R: Hard, I said. This is a spanking. It’s supposed to hurt.

B: (swat)

R: That’s better. Now keep going. And as you strike, say, “Bad Girl!”

B: (more swats alternating sides) bad girl

R: Let’s hit harder

B: Ow, I don’t like this. (more swats)

R: Please lower your panties and continue

B: (loud swats) Bad Girl

R: That’s good. Your butt is getting nice and red

B: (swats) This is not fun. (swats)

R: All right. Do you want me to finish the job?

B: Yes please

R: OK, let me move the camera. There, now get over my lap.

B: Yes, sir

R: (rubbing bottom with the smooth side of the brush) That was a good warm up. Now let’s get on with the real spanking.

B: Ow, ow, ow!

R: (several minutes and many swats later) That should be sufficient. Get up and put your nose in the corner

B: (inaudible)

R: Lift your skirt. And no rubbing! (flash pictures being taken)

R: (sometime later) So how did you like getting to do the spanking this time?

B: Not much. It seemed like I had to do your job and my job too. When I am worrying about the actual spanking, I don’t get much chance to experience all of the spanking sensations.

R: I find it very enjoyable to smack that wood against your skin. It makes such a crisp, resounding thwack sound.

B: That’s all the more reason why you should be the one to do it.

R: So would you try self-spanking again?

B: I suppose, but it will never be a favorite.

R: I loved watching and filming it. I wasn’t sure you could give yourself a really good spanking, but you did.

B: The second part was a lot more satisfying for me. Just spank me.

R: OK, I hear you. So, do you feel punished?

B: Actually, I think I do. If you make me do that, I must be atoning for something really naughty. Right?

R: I’ll remember that. Does your bottom still hurt?

B: Oh my. Yes, definitely.

So that’s the story. We experimented with self-spanking previously, but it had been a long time. I even included it in one of my fictional stories about a long distance relationship. But it wasn’t a part of our repertoire. Maybe it will be in future. Maybe this was a one-off experiment. I guess we’ll see.

Here’s what I learned:

1. Even with my arm bent around in an odd position, I could still deliver a painful spanking. That curved handled wooden brush hurts!


2. It’s difficult to swat yourself hard. But the accumulation of whacks built into a really hot bottom.


3. I was able to master a variant of the wrist snap that Randy uses so effectively. A good spanking consists of more than just crashing a heavy implement against the skin. That snap adds sting to the thud.


4. Self spanking was not satisfying for me. The spanker role distracted from the spankee role. The latter is always my preference. However, if Randy were out of the picture, I might try it. But without him there, I imagine it would be even less enjoyable.


5. I was very relieved when Randy took over. What I crave is not the pain, though I need that, but the control. I want him to place me over his lap and take charge.


6. Repeating the words, “Bad Girl,” as I spanked myself was a little weird (a little like the Shame scene in Game of Thrones). It felt silly and yet, it sort of reinforced my submissive stance.


7. Speaking of submission, I've talked before about participating in my own spanking by fetching the paddle or baring my bottom. Never have I been more a direct participant. Actually administering each burning swat made me more than accepting and more than complicit. I truly owned this spanking.


8. There was another feeling beyond submission. It was embarrassment for lack of a more accurate description. Here I was, a capable adult woman standing in the middle of the room and spanking my own bottom repeatedly with a hairbrush on command. Wearing a way too short white tennis skirt with white fluttery briefs enhanced the experience. For reasons that not even I fully comprehend, that’s kind of a turn-on.


9. Randy understands this side of me and how to expertly press my buttons. As I was writing this, he looked over my shoulder and whispered, “Next time, we’ll add a butt plug.” A shiver of mortified delight passed through me. He knows what makes me hot.


10. At the end of the day, that’s what matters – a mutually satisfying experience. We made vigorous love afterward. Spankings are our first, best, and always foreplay.

Have a great week everyone!

Monday Night Double Delight

Anyone who was concerned for my well-being needn’t be. I can tell you that two spankings are better than one, at least when they’re fun ones. And these definitely were.

Yesterday morning, I shared with Randy what I had planned for my dual milestone celebration. He particularly liked the vintage Six Million Dollar Man lunchbox. But he thought no double celebration would be complete without a pair of spankings. So, just that quickly, we had a plan.

Learning about a spanking (or two) in advance is kind of a love/hate thing for me. I adore the excited anticipation that comes with knowing that I will soon absorb my lover’s best abrupt caress. It’s arousing to the point where my mind races ahead pondering all of the sizzling erotic permutations.

I dislike it because, well, I have work to do! It’s not easy to concentrate when not one, but two spankings await me before bedtime.

I almost made it through my day without acting like a complete ditz. About four o’clock, I was editing an article another writer had authored. My eyes came across the phrase “…a record spanning…” I think I must have uttered some sort of nervous squeal because my neighbor came around the wall to make sure I was all right. I was fine, of course, and the text really didn’t say “record spanking.” But that was what I read!

Later at home, I paced the house, puttering with housework and peeking at spanko blogs. I counted the minutes until Randy would arrive. I tried to anticipate his first move and then my response. This is, of course, a fruitless exercise, but it helps the time pass more quickly.

By the time that my dear paddle-happy hubby started walking up the steps from our garage, the butterflies in my stomach were already in flight. I wanted his attention desperately, but now, suddenly, I wasn’t quite ready. I wanted a glass of water. I wanted to fix my hair. I wanted to pee.

The door shot open and there he was, grinning almost from ear to ear. “Hi!”

His tone was cheery and upbeat. I knew immediately that he was looking forward to the events about to unfold. I answered his greeting in kind.

“Upstairs?”

I love a forceful man of few words. Though stated as a question, I chose to take this as a command. I marched up to our bedroom, ready to face my fate. Randy followed closely behind, reaching at one point to place his hands upon my hips. In my heightened sense of anxious arousal, even this gentle grasp seemed electric.

We moved into our bedroom and Randy immediately guided me to the bed. He clearly wasn’t wasting any time. He positioned me so that I was kneeling on the edge of the bed. My head and shoulders were down and my bottom was high in the air. This was a familiar spanking position. Randy prefers this stance when he wants to apply a free swinging sort of implement.

He lifted my skirt to reveal a red thong I had picked out for the occasion. “Oh, you know I like that!”

Yeah, I know.

He demonstrated his appreciation for my lingerie fashion sense by slapping his hard hand against the ample flesh of right cheek. A smart companion blow soon followed on the other side. Alternating from one exposed buttock to the other, my love delivered a well-executed warm up. These hand spanks were firm, and they hurt, but I drank them in like nectar.

After several minutes, Randy switched to a small leather paddle. I love this paddle and he undoubtedly chose it for that reason. I cooed as he made it dance and sting across my burning flesh. In one of those odd moments of self-awareness, it occurred to me that this set of sensations was just perfect. The one man in my life was spanking me so well that I just wanted it to go on and on.

Just as I was settling into the lovely rhythm of the smacks, he stopped! I raised my bottom ever so slightly as if that might cause my lover to resume. No such luck.

“C’mon, Bon. Let’s go grab some dinner.”

Surely, I thought, he must be joking. On second thought, I realized he was serious. If he wasn’t going to spank any more, he could at least make love to me. Right?

Wrong. He apparently worked up an appetite reddening my posterior and it just couldn’t wait.

It took me several minutes to get composed again. I mean really! I was in no shape, physically or mentally, to go to a restaurant.

But go we did, eventually. Randy selected a fairly upscale Italian establishment. I felt a little under-dressed, but by this point, that was the least of my reasons for being self-conscious.

As I was enjoying my salad, Randy bent across the table and whispered, “Can you still feel the burn?”

Of course I could and I told him so.

“Good. Now, slide your skirt out from beneath you and sit right down on the seat.”

“Huh?” I knew exactly what he was requesting, but I didn’t especially want to do it.

“Put your bare ass on the seat.” Now he was speaking loudly enough to make me uneasy. Rather than risk a more graphic public explanation, I clandestinely hoisted my long skirt to allow my freshly paddled flesh to rest directly on the vinyl seat. Fortunately, our booth was positioned such that no one could see what I had done.

We shared an excellent dinner, despite my squirming. Randy smiled and I couldn’t help laughing a bit at this latest predicament he had concocted.

Despite Randy’s urging, I opted to pass on dessert. Later, as we were walking through the dimly illuminated parking lot, he stopped in his tracks. Instinctively, I halted as well. He hugged me tightly as only a lover can. We kissed. As he pulled me close with one hand, the other reached down to squeeze my sore globes.

“I love you, Bon.”

“I love you too.”

“You know when we get home that I’m going to have to spank you all over again?”

“Yeah, that’s part of why I love you…”

We kissed again, a bit more briefly this time, before getting back in the car.

Once safely at home, we returned to the scene of the crime. This time, Randy asked me to strip. I gladly complied. He sat on the side of the bed and coaxed me across his lap. Once settled into this classic corporal punishment pose and totally nude, I was ready for anything. Anything but the hairbrush, that is.

Ow! Ow! Ow! I couldn’t help crying out. The solid wood back of the brush offended my skin like nothing else. My bottom burned with each mounting strike. This rapid assault was more than I wanted, but I probably would have been disappointed had it stopped when I began to rant.

Randy has a sixth sense about judging my state. Years of practice and observation have honed his skills in assessing when I am thoroughly spanked. By the time he let me up, I was almost breathless and begged him to let me get a drink of water. He casually gestured toward our bathroom and I didn’t wait for a second invitation.

While in the bathroom, I couldn’t resist admiring my ruby red cheeks. They looked very attractive indeed.

Back in the bedroom, we moved on to other adult pastimes. I began by wrapping my lips around his mighty Excalibur. He groaned with pleasure as I displayed my gentle gratitude. Next, he pinned me to the bed in a glorious junction. Finally, the last of my residual apprehension dissipated in blissful embrace. Ah…

So, yes, I did get two spankings as promised, but they were really good ones.

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

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

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

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

Pain in Full with Interest

It seems that my story archive was not quite as bare as I thought. I found this little nugget way in the back. I hope you enjoy reading it.

Sunday was spanking day for me. Here's how it happened. I was at the computer writing an e-mail message. Suddenly, my husband Randy appeared behind me. He was holding our dogleg hairbrush (truly the Stradivarius of spanking implements). As my fingers blabbered away about this and that as I am inclined to do, I sensed he was becoming impatient with me. My first clue was a not so subtle tapping of the brush on the back of my chair. Finally, he told me that I needed to get off the computer because I was about to be spanked (don't those words make butterflies take flight?). I offered my correspondent a brief farewell, logged off, and tried to prepare myself for what was to come.

After I logged off, Randy got right to work. He lowered my jeans and panties and then positioned me face down across the seat of the computer chair. He asked me if I was ready. Not knowing precisely what he had in mind, I said that I guessed so. Then he delivered about ten quick swats with the brush. They were pretty hard. As soon as he finished, he rubbed my stinging bottom for a few minutes.

As he was rubbing, we had an interesting conversation. It went something like this:

R: So who were you e-mailing? B: My friend Debbie. R: Is she the one you convinced she needed a hard spanking? B: Not really. She said she wanted one. I just offered her my thoughts on the subject. R: Nevertheless, what you said in part resulted in your friend getting spanked. B: I suppose so, but... R: So you admit your complicity! It seems you're pretty brave when it concerns someone else's bottom. Now it's your turn!

All of a sudden the rubbing stopped. Randy began to spank me slowly but methodically with that brush. The swats were very hard and went on seemingly without end. The intense sting grew as the spanking proceeded. Randy punctuated the spanking with questions like "Is this what your friend got because of you?" (I had no intention of telling him at this stage that Debbie's husband used a paddle). Ouch! He really laid the wood to me this time! I suppose I could used my safeword to escape, but my mind was elsewhere.

When he finished, I realized that I was completely turned-on. He wanted to complete the festivities right there by the computer, but I convinced him to move to our bedroom. Once there, we made love with vigor and zest. It was great.

The bottom line is that I was as sore as I've been in quite a while. A day and a half later, I can definitely still feel the aftereffects. But, you know, I can't complain. I have to believe that most wives would be delighted to have a husband who spends as much time and effort on them as Randy does with me. For that and far more, I am truly grateful.

Keywords: spanking, hairbrush spanking, spanking story, Bonnie, spanked