Tuesday, October 04, 2005

Two's Wild (Part One)


I love weekends!

Saturday dawned warm and clear. I awoke a little later than usual, even for a weekend. I felt rested and full of energy. The promise of the weekend lay before me. This was going to be a good day. I could feel it!

I sat at the kitchen table reading the newspaper and sipping herbal tea as brilliant sunshine streamed in through the windows. All was quiet. My husband and daughter were both upstairs, each enjoying the sleeping-in gene they obviously shared. This was my time - a time to read, a time to reflect, a time to plan.

Randy's words from earlier in the week echoed through my consciousness. He had promised to paddle my bottom on Saturday. As he said that, his subtle smile betrayed a more elaborate intent. I just knew it. He can't fool me. For more than twenty years, I've been his wife, his confidant, his friend, his lover, and, yes, his willing target. So the question was not so much what or when, but how?

As I relaxed in the kitchen, still clad in my nightgown, I pondered my fate. The feeling was one of those mismatched mixtures I know so well. As an adult, I knew that a spanking meant an erotic feast of fabulous intensity. Yet, deep within me was a child, nervously awaiting the inevitable reality of wood meeting flesh. I resolved to accept this gift, all of it, in the loving spirit in which it would be administered. I would embrace the spirituality, and yes, even the sharp sting that heralded the celebration.

After getting dressed, I ventured out into the morning. As the sun rose in the sky, I planted two flats of flowers. It was dirty work, yet satisfying. I even momentarily took my mind off of the events yet to come. As I neared completion of my task, Randy came out to inspect my work. "Those look nice" he said. Coming from him, that was as fine a compliment as yard work would ever receive (interestingly, he sometimes uses precisely the same phrase and tone when talking about portions of my anatomy). He told me that he needed to stop in at work for about an hour. Away he went. There was not one word about my spanking. Did he forget? Had I gotten myself all excited for nothing? Perhaps so.

When the flowers were all happily planted and watered, I went back inside. Our daughter had now emerged from her slumber and was groggily searching the refrigerator for sustenance. After wishing her good morning and offering a couple of culinary suggestions, I wandered upstairs. Once there, I pealed off my grubby sweats and enjoyed a leisurely shower. Spanking or no, weekends are a time for renewal. After I returned from my flight among the water fairies, I selected a cool flower print skirt with a coordinating cotton top. It thought that choice was appropriate, both to my morning's accomplishment and for the rising temperatures outside. Weekends are also a time to be comfortable.

I decided next to answer a couple of e-mails. No sooner had I begun than Randy came in the door. True to his word, he was only gone for about an hour. He told me that our daughter had asked him for a ride to a friend's house. The wink that followed informed me that playtime was at hand. All of a sudden, the butterflies were back!

Randy was only gone about fifteen minutes. Yet, to me, it was eternity. I jumped when I heard his car door slam. I gathered my courage and again vowed to persevere.

"Hi Bon," Randy said standing in the doorway. In his hand was the teardrop-shaped paddle. His voice was lyrical and almost teasing. "Hi Randy," I replied matching his tone. What happened next is kind of a blur. He helped me up from my chair and then grabbed me around the waist bending me forward. Next thing I knew, my skirt was up and my panties were down. It was spanking time.

There was no warm-up and no let up. Randy brought the wooden paddle crashing down again and again. At first, he alternated sides. Later, he concentrated on two tender spots. Although my seat hurt a lot, I honored my personal pledge. I accepted that fierce paddling as though it were gift-wrapped. By the time he was finished, I was SO hot!

He stood me up and embraced me. Our mouths met. Four lips and two tongues danced to the rhythm of our lust. In no time, we had moved to the bedroom and lost most of our clothes. Our lovemaking now assumed a barely restrained urgency. As I lay on my back, Randy caressed my breasts. His skilled tongue circled each nipple in turn before lapping and flicking them into attention. Next his efforts moved southward. The oral stimulation he delivered was exquisite. I writhed with pleasure and arched my back in ecstasy.

The denouement was deliciously satisfying (in a screaming sort of way). We achieved mutual fulfillment as I gripped him with all my strength. Each rock of his hips shook my world. This man knows what I like!

In the warm, tingly afterglow, I found myself at once both relaxed and energized. I thought we had enjoyed the ideal Saturday afternoon. Little did I know that these events were but a prelude to far wilder nightcap.

Stay tuned for part 2!

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Monday, October 03, 2005

Sounds About Right




You are



Plugged In, Switched On, and Worn Out

Randy and I wanted to try a different sort of vacation. We’ve been fortunate enough to visit beautiful places and shared many exotic adventures. This time, though, we wondered what might happen if we just stayed home. A few weeks in advance, we picked out a weekday that looked empty on our calendars. The idea was that we would stay home from work while our daughter attended school as normal.

We began our day by sleeping late and rolling out of bed in time to visit our favorite breakfast/brunch restaurant. Amid our coffee and eggs, we chatted at length about friends, family, work, household projects, current events, and a dozen other topics. Not only do I adore this man with all my soul, I find him an interesting companion. We both observed that despite living together, we get far too chances to just relax and enjoy each others’ company.

As we were driving home, totally out of the blue, Randy asked me if I was in the mood for some “fun.” That word from his lips can mean only thing – vigorous lovemaking with all the trimmings! “Sure,” I replied with enthusiasm. I had expected nothing less.

When we arrived home, Randy told me he had a project he wanted to complete in his workshop down in the basement. I couldn’t help but pout a little bit. After all, he led me on in the car! “No fair,” I thought. I sat on the couch amid the muffled sound of drilling and sawing from below. I picked up a magazine, but none of the articles interested me. I briefly considered television before recoiling at the memory of shows telecast during the middle of the day. I felt bored. I felt neglected. I felt let down. Why would he even ask me that question?

Before I had time to concoct a answer, Randy leapt up the steps with a smile on his face and a pole in his hand. Yes, that’s right. It was a wooden pole. It was about four feet long and cylindrical. “Fantastic,” I thought, “Now he’s going to beat me with a hoe handle!” Let’s just say I was less than enthralled about that prospect.

“What’s the matter, Honey?” he asked in a tone that suggested that he really didn’t know. “You asked me about ‘fun’ and then disappeared,” I grumbled. “Fear not,” he said. “If it’s ‘fun’ you desire, then ‘fun’ you shall have.” That’s better, I thought, but the pole still had me worried. Just then, I thought of a second possible use for it and I liked that one even less.

“Let’s go upstairs and see what develops,” my lover instructed. His tone was playful. I vowed to play along. When we reached our bedroom, Randy told me to remove all of my clothes. As I followed this command, he pulled back the covers and piled the pillows in the center of the bed. I’d seen this particular configuration before and very well knew what it meant. Still, I hesitated.

“Take your position, Bon.” Needing only that small encouragement, I climbed onto the bed and lay face down with my middle atop the pillows. My naked bottom was fully exposed and pointed at the ceiling.

Randy rubbed my feet, ankles, and calves. It felt good. He moved up to the back of my thighs and it felt even better. Finger tips lightly dancing over my skin triggered both shivers and goose bumps. Next, he reached my hips. There, he adopted a deeper massaging action. When he reached my well displayed bottom, the rubbing was punctuated with light slaps. His pace was leisurely, but deliberate.

By this time, I was practically panting with lust. In my clouded mental state, I thought it was clearly time for a good spanking or good sex or something of the sort. My lover, however, had a different idea. He rubbed my lower back with his left hand while his right lightly smacked my derriere. Then suddenly, he was gone.

My next realization was that Randy was binding my wrists with a sturdy scarf. Now this, I recognized, could lead to something intriguing. He disappeared behind me. I could hear my man removing something from our toy drawer. I imagined it was some sort of spanking implement, but I was too much into the moment to expend much energy trying to predict his choice.

As I had feared, he rubbed that nasty hoe handle against my bottom. The sensation broke my trance and caused me to fear for my own well being. Was he really going to use that? It could break bones for goodness sake.

After all these years, I should have known better. While I was worrying, he was setting up the pole for its true purpose. I later learned that he had drilled holes in each end. Through those holes, he pulled two pairs of my discarded pantyhose. Randy then spread my legs wide and tied one pair of pantyhose around each of my ankles. I was not only effectively immobilized, I was completely exposed!

After giving me a few moments to ponder my predicament, Randy’s fingers touched me in a very private locale. I felt slippery lubricant applied all around and inside my anus. I should have known what was coming next, but I swear I was surprised when he pushed the rubber butt plug into me. I gasped as it settled into place.

I’m of two minds about anal play. On one hand, it’s so naughty and taboo. It makes me feel deliciously submissive when my lover defiles me so thoroughly. On the other hand, I usually don’t much enjoy the actual penetration. On this occasion, though, I was sufficiently aroused that I was ready to willingly accept whatever gifts Randy chose to provide.

I squeezed my eyes closed tight as my lover violated my rectum. They opened wide again when I heard the sound of a buzzing vibrator. My breathing quickened when he applied the toy to my swelling love button. He manipulated it back and forth in a well schooled and most pleasurable manner. Guttural groans replaced pants as I bucked atop that mountain of pillows.

Before I had much chance to drink in this splendid attention, Randy added one more element to my spicy entertainment. He was kneeling on the bed beside my left leg. I couldn’t see him or what he was doing. Suddenly, I felt a sharp sting on my right cheek. He repeated the strike on my left. It hurt a lot. Randy began alternating sides with a regular cadence. Whatever implement he was using left an intense residual burn after the worst of the initial sting subsided. All the while, the vibrator in his other hand was driving me positively wild.

After quite a few blows, the combination of the plug, the vibrator, and the rough spanks pushed me to a screaming, quaking crescendo. I shook for a couple of minutes as my body released every ounce of stored tension. When the orgasms receded, I felt limp.

Randy untied me and removed the plug. He reorganized the chaotic bed and pushed the toys away. We lay on the bed together as he held me tight. My eyes were moist with tears of joy. He had filled me and fulfilled me completely. I loved him absolutely. I knew he loved me too. I squeezed my man and kissed his face.

“I thought you didn’t like the plug,” he whispered. “I love the plug,” was my only reply. “I thought you didn’t like switches,” he continued. “So that’s what that was,” I muttered as I rubbed the punished area for the first time. I could feel long thin welts that were likely to stick around for a few days. After thinking for a moment, I explained that “Switches are OK when handled by an expert.”

“Well good,” Randy proclaimed with a grin, “I certainly wouldn’t want to give you anything you don’t like.” With that, he rolled me onto my back and positioned himself on top of me. The lovemaking that followed was gentle and sweet. This mellow rapture was the ideal completion to our sensual vacation. Afterward, we fell asleep in each others’ arms.

It was a fine day off. Playing hooky from work was never any better than this!

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Sunday, October 02, 2005

Anatomy of a Spanking


Sometimes I grow tired of the delivering the usual spankologue. This time, I decided to provide a different perspective. There is only one other meaningful viewpoint on my spankings. I wrote the following story in my usual format. Then I gave a copy to my husband, Randy, to get his thoughts and impressions. We talked about it and then I added his insights. I hope this story is fun for you! I certainly was for us.

On Friday evening, Randy came home early (for him anyway). He knew I wanted to play based upon an earlier conversation. Our daughter was out of the house attending a school function. He caught me in front of the computer. "Are you reading those spanking blogs again?" he inquired. Obviously, I was. "Does that mean you're thinking about spanking?" I told him he was correct. How was I going to hide a thing like that? He asked me to accompany him upstairs. He intended to apply a paddle to my behind.

He walked behind me as we climbed the steps. All the way up, his hands were attached to the seat of my jeans. He says the sight and feel of my bottom are a tremendous turn-on for him. When we arrived in our bedroom, I promptly disrobed. There seemed no cause for procrastination. I was ready for whatever. Randy says he loves his aggressive, sexy wife. As soon as my clothes were gone, I began on his. Down came his pants and underwear. With this, I used my mouth to demonstrate my level of interest. Randy thought this move was positively mind-blowing (that's really what he said!).

When he regained his wits, he removed the tear-shaped paddle from the toy drawer. Randy likes this paddle because he can hit hard without doing serious damage. This is a result of both its lighter weight (as wooden paddles go) and relatively large surface area. It also yields an impressive “thwack!” sound when used for its intended purpose. I’m quite familiar with its spicy blend of sting and ache. He sat on the bed while I lay across his lap. We both like this position. It's intimate and it's comfortable. He took the paddle in his right hand and then momentarily laid it against my bare skin. No turning back now, I thought. Randy paused briefly to admire the view and to heighten my anticipation.

He started out with a flurry of hard swats. No warm-up here! The sheer intensity startled me. Randy wanted to get my attention. It worked. I howled and twisted as the paddle strokes fell. He encircled my waist with his left arm to eliminate any possibility that I might escape the growing burn. After a while, he gradually eased the hectic pace. Just as I was beginning to think I was doing OK, he went at it with full power again. He said he likes to lull me into dreamy complacency and then snap me back to the reality of a stinging bare bottom spanking. Despite the rapidly rising temperature in my aft, or perhaps because of it, I was by this time becoming very aroused. A few more really hard swats and suddenly it was all over. Randy has a knack for knowing when I've had enough. He says he bases it on how I breathe (strange, but true).

Randy tossed the paddle to the floor and lay on his back on the bed. Instantly, I straddled him. As I bounced up and down, he grabbed two handfuls of my inflamed cheeks. The resulting stimulation pushed me over the edge. Pleasure and pain blended like coffee and cream until I could no longer distinguish them as discrete sensations. In that moment, I embraced both feelings as one. We made love for quite a while, not quitting until we were both totally drained. It was a sensual banquet and we didn’t miss a course.

Randy had an extra spring in his step on Saturday. You can believe that I too went though the day with a smile on my face. Except, of course, when I had to sit down!

I hope that story hit the spot.

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Friday, September 30, 2005

The Inside-Out, Backwards Massage Spanking

Here's your Friday dose of spanko fun!

One evening recently, Randy and I were discussing the intrigue of massage spanking. I read about this phenomenon on a friend’s web site. He decided we should join the fun and, as he so often does, added his own special twist.

Our daughter was safely away at a school activity. We pledged to ignore the telephone, the doorbell, the pager, and anything else short of a major earthquake. It was play time! I had endured a long, stressful week and a good, hard spanking was precisely what I needed to set my mind right. Rather than begin with the requisite smooching and caressing, Randy suggested we get naked. He didn't have to tell me twice. I was prepared for a spectacular evening in the bedroom with my husband. Frankly, I was ready for almost anything.

I suppose most people so inclined would employ the massage as a prelude to a nice, firm spanking. Randy, of course, had to arrange it the other way around. At his invitation, I willingly placed myself over his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed. I recall thinking "Oh goody! I'm getting spanked." He began to rub my bottom with the back of our dogleg hairbrush. This is a surface with which I am very familiar. Its solid wooden back is very smooth and feels cold, even while my skin is still at room temperature. "Yep", he promised "You're in for a real smart tanning tonight." He continued to rub as he described in detail the gifts I was about to receive. "I hope you have some work you can do standing up tomorrow. You sure aren't going to want to sit." By this time, I was ready to meet my fate. For once, though, I had the good sense to keep my mouth shut.

"I believe it's time to turn this poor, under-appreciated, pale backside a happy, rosy red" Randy finally decreed. With that pronouncement, my spanking began. I'd love to tell you about my slow, gradual warm-up, but there wasn't one. The first swing and all that followed were healthy and vigorous. I was so surprised by the intensity that I even momentarily contemplated invoking my safeword early on (and I virtually never use it). I held my tongue instead. I'd been waiting quite a while for this moment. I didn't want to miss out on any of it!

For those who have yet to try it, a spanking with a hairbrush is a remarkable experience. The stinging is intense as is the heat generated by the sudden impact of wood against flesh. Make no mistake, it hurts a lot, in some ways more than most paddles. But there is also a certain spiritual component to it. I found my thoughts amazingly transported away from the pain and into a sensual, sexual realm. In this place, I felt only the desire for greater intimacy.

When Randy put down the brush, I was wriggling atop his lap and moaning with longing (and yes, more than a bit of posterior discomfort too). He positioned me face down on the bed. When I heard that telltale buzzing sound, I knew he had activated my favorite sex toy. I parted my legs to welcome the toy. Rather than deliver it directly, he took the time to skillfully apply it to a favorite external site. After several minutes of this joy, Randy proceeded to insert the toy in the obvious manner. I loved it! How could this feeling get any better? I was about to learn.

Randy began to massage my entire body. He started with my temples and worked slowly southward. He paid special attention to my neck since I often store tension there. My back was next. He began lightly using just fingertips. Gradually, he increased the depth of his rubbing by using first his fingers and then his palms. These were knowing hands, learned in the ways of a woman's pleasure.

The feeling was truly a strange juxtaposition. The relaxation his hands were producing throughout the upper half of my body provided a stark contrast to the tingling excitement left by the brush and, more immediately, the buzzing within. As soon as Randy's interest wandered below my waist, the focus changed. He began first rubbing and then lightly slapping my glowing, crimson cheeks. My breathing was reduced to an anxious pant. Now, there was only one way to completely satisfy me. Fortunately, Randy had the same idea. He raised my hips and removed the toy (for a change, he remembered to turn it off!). He replaced it with my all time favorite. I was dizzy with excitement. Two passions merged into a symbiotic renewal of love's promise. Fulfillment was ours.

Sometimes I don't realize how hard he spanks me until later. This was one such occasion. True to Randy's forecast, sitting the following day was quite an adventure. But, looking back, I am grateful for every resonant word, every scorching swat, every tender caress, and every precious moment. Though I wouldn't have wanted any more, I surely couldn't have been satisfied with any less. Stress, what stress?

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