In honor of Labor Day, I’m taking a day off! However, rather than leaving you without a holiday slice of spanko goodness, I’ve invited our friend Hermione to prepare a guest post.
If you don’t know Hermione, she is a longtime MBS reader and frequent brunch participant. As you shall see, she has some very interesting thoughts about spankings and their place in a loving relationship.
Like many of you, I have been sexually aroused by spanking since early childhood. My earliest recollection is of masturbating while looking at a comic strip from the Sunday paper. It was probably Dagwood Bumstead (Isn't that a perfect surname?). He was often drawn OTK in those days. I don't know why he was being spanked because I hadn't learned to read yet, but the pictures were exciting enough.
One other thing I want to share is that I have spent my whole life as an observer. While I am actively involved in something - playing the piano, teaching, sitting in a meeting, making love, getting spanked - there is a part of me standing just behind and a little to the left, watching and taking in the details in an objective, detached manner.
My husband and I have enjoyed erotic spanking as a prelude to lovemaking for a number of years. Yes, I know the exact date of my first spanking, but that's another story. Then we adopted a rescue dog who could not accept that spankings happened. Quiet sex was OK though, so spankings were dropped from our foreplay. The stresses of life also intervened, and family illnesses and death pretty much curtailed our desire for bedroom activity. I remember picking up a much-read spanking novel and noticing that I did not feel the familiar throbbing down below. Had I fallen out of love with spanking?
My husband Ron finally decided that we needed to get our sex life back on track, and he came up with a great idea. As a result of the death in his family, we had to sort through and dispose of the contents of an apartment by the end of the month. We could combine this with a bit of spanking and love-making over the next three weekends. Was I interested? You bet!
On Friday, Ron called me at work to tell me he had checked out the kitchen for a suitable spanking implement. I sure couldn't concentrate for the rest of that day. On Saturday, he decided that we would go over on Sunday afternoon. That meant that I had all of Saturday to anticipate the inevitable. Fear churned with excitement inside me. I dreaded the upcoming pain, and yet I craved it as well.
On Sunday afternoon, we drove to the apartment and let ourselves in.
"What's first? Sex or sorting?" I asked.
"Sorting."
So for next hour we made decisions on what to keep, toss, sell, or give to relatives. When I spoke, my voice sounded somewhat strangled. I could scarcely breathe because of the anticipation of what was to come.
Finally, Ron said, "It's time." I followed him to the kitchen where he selected a large wooden spoon from a crockery jar. He smacked it against his palm, then replaced it and chose a triangular spatula.
"Hmm, what about this one? No, I think the spoon will be better." He picked up the spoon again. "Let's go." I followed him to the bedroom.
"What if someone hears us?" I tried to stall.
"No one will be in the bedroom next door at this time of day, and I'll close the door. We won't be heard from the outside hall if you'll try not to make as much noise as you usually do."
We both undressed and I lay face down along the length of the bed, on the bare mattress. I felt the bed sag as Ron sat down beside me. I took a deep breath and waited for the first smack. I didn't have long to wait.
The spanking didn't last long, but it hurt a lot. I hadn't been spanked for over two years, and never with a wooden spoon. I became totally immersed in enduring the painful but thrilling sensations and in struggling not to cry out. In fact, I only realized after it was all over that for the first time ever, I hadn't felt like an observer. I had actually been totally in the moment. I was so overwhelmed with the sensations that during the lovemaking that followed, I had trouble reaching a climax. However, never fear, I eventually succeeded.
Wrapped in each others arms, I sighed, "I didn't realize how much I missed spankings. We can't stop them again."
Ron agreed. "Next month, we'll try it again at home."
"But what if the dog still objects?"
"We'll go to a motel," he replied.
The next weekend, we were back at the apartment for more work then the reward. The spanking was longer and harder, and I luxuriated in the sensations of sharp smacks, the sound of wood hitting skin, and the gentle hand caressing of my bottom between strokes.
Ron stopped spanking and parted my bottom cheeks. We had not brought any K-Y jelly, but saliva is an excellent lubricant. He then gently pushed himself into me. To be honest, I have never enjoyed anal sex. Uncomfortable and unpleasant at the best of times, it was sometimes painful. This time, though, it was none of the above. It was glorious! Somewhere inside my head, the mental barricades had come down, allowing me to let go and enjoy pleasures that had been impossible before. It was a very erotically fulfilling experience.
On our final weekend, I again fully embraced the total experience of anticipation, pain, and pleasure. I lifted my bottom upwards to meet the descending spoon and welcomed its bite as much as I welcomed the soft caresses on my hot bottom. When Ron had decided I had had enough, he turned me over, parted my thighs and brought me to orgasm with his tongue. Then he knelt over my head so that I could take him in my mouth and gladly return the favour.
My emotions were running high. It was all so different, so overwhelming, and yet so right. I put my arms around my husband and told him how wonderful it all had been, and then blurted "You're my master."
I realized that what I wanted, needed, and craved was submission. What I didn't know was how totally liberating it would be. I think there had always been a power struggle between us. Each of us sought to be dominant. The result was that Ron often criticized me, showed me 'better' ways to do things, and ignored my opinions. That has all changed.
Now that I have stepped back and allowed my husband to take charge, he frequently asks my opinion, defers to my wishes, and treats me with respect. We smile at each other and make eye contact much more often, and our hello and goodbye hugs and kisses are more lingering. When Ron tells me to do something in a stern voice, I say "Yes, Sir." Then I see the twinkle in his eye and a hint of a smile, and feel a tingle down below.
We resolved the dog issue, and still have a regular Sunday date. I adore the buildup of anticipation throughout the week, mingled with a little fear. I have bought a few new spanking toys. Ron enjoys deciding which one he'll use, but he never tells me beforehand. I always give him feedback afterward, and it’s usually positive.
I have never been happier. Isn't it amazing what a good spanking can do?
Amazing indeed! Thank you Hermione for sharing your experiences and insights.
Keywords: spanking, guest post, wooden spoon spanking, spanking story, spanking and sex, erotic spanking
