I told her to take some deep breaths to relax and when I could see the rise and fall of her back, I started massaging her lower back, her cheeks and thighs. Next came the pats around her ass and then rubs to relax and soothe the soft sting. After I thought she was good and warmed up, I indicated to her that the proper spanking would begin and she could start counting.
One good rap on her right cheek and one on her left, she continued breathing well and readjusted slightly, counting silently to herself. Two raps on one cheek, the latter slightly harder than the former and then the same on the other. A slight smile played on her lips as she wiggled her ass again slightly. I couldn't help but smile as I continued to spank, making each one count as I only had twenty to play with and maybe more if I was lucky.
I was enjoying myself so much that I have to admit... I lost count. I tried to remember where we were, was it sixteen or seventeen? It's times like these, you just have to fall back and punt.
"Do you know how many you've had, girl?"
She thought for a bit. "Fifteen?" she said quietly.
I nodded to myself, close enough for jazz. "Very good."
I wanted to make the last five of her spanks good ones, but I didn't want her running for the hills. To be honest, I wanted a lot more than just twenty. I wanted to give her just enough with these twenty that she would want more. I started off soft and let each successive slap on her ass come harder until the twentieth was as sharp as she got. She flinched a bit, but settled quickly and again, there was that little wiggle to her ass.
I bent down and whispered in her ear, "Would you care for more?"
She smiled shyly and nodded small.
I smiled back and said, "Excellent, because now we can have some real fun."
I straightened and traced my fingers around her behind. Her cheeks were just getting warm and slightly pink. I had to smile when she pressed her behind into my hand as I rubbed. I slapped them softly and gradually stronger. Consistent medium strikes to her ass, settling into a rhythm for a count of ten. I lightly raked my fingernails against her warm skin, feeling her shiver and then took my free hand and laced my fingers in hair, holding her in place as my spanks started again, only harder. Gasps escaped her lips and then moans started shortly after, my hand slapping her cheeks stronger. She tried to move her head against the resistance of my hand in her hair as I raked my nails hard up her thighs and ass. Her delightful squirming increased while she kept pressing herself against my nails, making them dig deeper into her skin.
I let go of her hair and picked up a leather tawse out of my bag. Slowly rubbing the stiff leather against her red cheeks, I sensed a shiver slipping through her body. I rapped the tawse on her behind, lightly at first and then slowly picking up momentum and strength. On the harsher blows, I gave her time to process, watching her fingers clench against the bench, her breaths becoming shorter as her body dealt with the pain and endorphins racing through her body. The leather slapped harder, lashing her ass. Panting to keep her breath, she would bear down through each volley of strikes.
I dropped the tawse back in my bag and rubbed her ass some more, feeling the warm skin. It was getting to be a very lovely red. I reared back my hand and slapped her cheeks several times. Each time, she wiggled for more. I got directly behind her and knelt down, so I was eye level with her shapely ass. She adjusted her position again and separated her knees slightly and that's when it happened. I could smell her. The lovely rich, slightly sweet smell that slinks in the air when a woman is all too happy with the attention she's getting. With a deep breath, I spanked her several more times, medium raps than harder, as I could sense her falling deeper into that wonderful place where pain melds with bliss and then fills and consumes your body. I traced my fingers slowly up her thighs, fingertips lightly brushing up her leg, sliding slightly to her inner thigh and then around the swell of her behind. I heard her giggle softly as the tickles kept running up her leg by my fingers, then hearing them turn to soft moans as they dared to get nearer to the heat between her legs, but never quite reaching it.
I stood back up and got the paddle out of my bag. It was made of leather and was flexible, not stiff and unforgiving like a wooden paddle. Consequently, it had more thud than sting. One side was smooth leather, while the other was studded with sharp spikes. I held the paddle in her field of vision and she just smiled.
"We can try it," she said.
I nodded. "And what if we like it?"
"Well then, we can try a lot more of it," she said and smiled.
I chuckled and circled the smooth side of the paddle against her cheeks, now a deep cherry red, very sensitive and hot to the touch. I rapped the paddle against them hard, soft, gentle moans escaping from her lips. I laid my free hand against the small of her back, her skin soft against my palm, as I struck harder, giving her time to breathe, process and deal with each strike. Her face had that dreamy look as her breathing deepened and she relaxed into each spank of the paddle.
Then I turned the paddle over to the spiked side.
I put the edge of the paddle against her bent knee and raked the spikes up the back of her leg, up her thigh and over the red, hot, sensitive skin of her ass. Her fingers clutched the bench as she moaned long and arched her back against my hand.
Good lord, there is NEVER… NOTHING… NOT sexy about a woman arching her back.
I did the same to the to the other cheek and this time she pressed her cheek against the paddle to get more of the spikes, as a smile played deliciously around her lips.
This is what I love... what I want. I want the blush that betrays them, the giggle that comes out of nowhere and the shudder that they can't control. I want the whimpers that slip helplessly from their lips. I want the tears that they hate to fall from their eyes and the begging, the pleading, the cries that can't help but come out of their mouth.
I want the things that escape from them—things that they can't control. Because then I know in that lovely vulnerable moment, they're mine.
It's a visceral, palpable thing that I can almost grab a hold of, take a ravenous bite and taste it. I turn the paddle back around to the smooth side and give several more sharp strikes to her lovely, shapely and deeply red ass. The moans turn to grunts as she struggles with her endurance and I know that we're getting near the end. I throw the paddle back in the bag and finish off with a few more spanks with just my hand. Her breaths shorten again out of their relaxed pace and I give one last strike. I bend over and whisper in her ear, "Very good, honey, happy birthday." She smiles in a daze and I end as I began, rubbing and massaging her lower back and cheeks.
When I finish, I let her lay there while I play with her hair for a while and let her set the pace. Slowly, she gets up on her arms, blear-eyed, blinking and getting her bearings. She sits up on the bench and I give her the water bottle she had. She takes a sip and smiles. I sit behind her and play with her hair more, running my fingers through it. Doing this relaxes me and brings me out of the topspace, as much as it soothes her. She takes a deep breath and relaxes, leaning back against me and settles there, as we watch, warm and cozy, the other lovely scenes playing out in the playspace.
The next Monday, I messaged her.
Good morning, Erin!
Good morning! How are you? :)
I'm doing great! They say it's your birthday!
Yes, it is!
It's my birthday too, yeah!
Is it? Or are you just singing the Beatles song in your head. :)
Totally singing the Beatles song in my head. :) Just wanted to check in on you and see how you were doing.
I'm doing great! Still a little tender when I sit down, but still… lovely memories.
Wonderful! Who knew growing up would be such a… pain in the ass!
*groans* *face palm*
Thank you, thank you, I'm here all night! *mic drop*
We need to get you some new material.
Well, you know, I thought hanging around all you young'uns would help, but appare
ntly not.
Well, if you turned up your hearing aids, so you could actually hear what was being said…
Hey! I'm not the enemy here! Time is the enemy here! Besides, we're typing, hearing aids don't even enter into it.
Well, when did you get your Buddy Holly glasses anyway? Was he still alive?
Oooo. You think you're so funny! You just wait until we're back in the playspace, I'll give you what for!
Lol. Right! You'll have to catch me first. :)
Whatevs. Like you're gonna run very fast to avoid one of my spankings.
You're right, Sir, I probably won't... but the chase is fun anyway. ;)
Not so fun when you're on the verge of a heart attack.
OMG! Listen to you!
What!?
Repeat Ad Infinitum
Keith Anderson
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Run, Subby, Run by Breanna Hayse
Unbelievable. Once again, I found myself standing with my nose in the corner and my bottom feeling like it went through a hamburger patty maker. And he wasn't even done! Seriously, folks, one would think I would know better than to talk back to him after all these years.
***
It was John's 198th birthday (or somewhere around there—I can't remember because he's been around since the dawn of time). We had a wonderful day—I took him to the Birch Aquarium (I should have started thinking about the events right then.. birch… ummm), returned home and messed around a little bit, and then left for the Marine Room in La Jolla.
Before I go into further detail about the events of our evening, let me tell you that this place is the BOMB. It is amazing and our favorite place to celebrate—five star all the way around with the most original gourmet dishes you could ever taste. And the view—OMG! It is right on the beach, so close that the tide comes in and the waves splash right against the windows.
We had our usual window table and settled down to enjoy the spectacular panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean at sunset. How can anything be more romantic? Except… A Long Island Iced Tea. I mean, come on! I hardly ever drink and it was a celebration, right? Usually, I go for Bellini's but they did not have the peach puree, so I settled for the next best thing. It was STRONG. As the night went on, I was feeling the effects, and John (being the bossy d-type that he is) took it away from me. Mean, huh? I'm an adult, so geesh!
Suddenly, my beautiful Marine Room turned into Denny's in a blink of an eye! Or should I say, with a scream. Not just one scream, but two. And they were not even in unison. It was nearly 8:00 pm and a couple brought a set of tired toddlers to a restaurant whose idea of mac and cheese holds no less than five different cheeses and is topped with caviar. As the screaming continued (and was promptly ignored by the parents), my nerves started to grind. So I did what any other woman in my situation would do when she wants a quiet, romantic evening with her husband.
I simply reached across the table and took a few (okay, maybe almost finishing my LIIT) sips. Yes, right in front of Mr. Meanie Birthday Boy, bold as could be.
I had a reason, right? A dumb reason, but it was still a reason.
He did not think so. He was not a happy dom. So being me, in all my aggravated dumbness, waited until he went to the bathroom, sucked down a second LIIT and left the original on the table (watered down). Once the waiter removed the new, and very empty glass, all evidence of my defiance was well hidden.
We went for a lovely walk on the beach, it was low tide and the waves were warm, and then went to return to the valet to get the SUV. That was when he sprung it on me.
"Before we get the keys, you and I have a little date in the back seat." Ooh, I'm thinking—quickie! I like quickies… Not.
He continued, "What were you thinking? Drinking right in front of me after I said that you had enough?"
By then he had my wrist in his hand and was leading me to the back of the parking lot where our truck had been parked. Far away from civilization and prying eyes. I started mentally hitting myself in the head for letting him have the combo to the SUV's electric lock.
"I asked you a question." He tightened his grip.
"It was expensive and I didn't want to waste the money." Can't blame me for trying, right?
"Say again?"
"The kids were screaming and I didn't wanna get cranky."
"They were not that bad and you know that is not an excuse. I can't believe you defied me, and right in my face!" I hate when he starts scolding. He opened the truck's door and pointed inside. Think fast, Bree! Here goes—
"You know, I should really get points for not drinking it behind your back. I choose to defy you to your face." Good thing it was dark because I could feel the look I got for that smart ass comment. Thank God he didn't know about the second glass!
"Unbelievable," he choked out. "Get your bottom into the back seat." Then the fun began. NOT. It was chilly and damp, and this man has a hand that feels like a frat paddle—and he was not playing nice. I was squirming and squealing, but you can only move so much when your head is practically under the seat and your feet are jammed against the door.
"The valet is getting a nice show," John mentioned mid-swing.
"What!"
"He must have heard you screaming," John said, pausing. I held my breath. He wouldn't! Would he? Was this just one of his Jedi mind tricks to freak me out more than I already was? He had his hand resting on my backside and continued, "Plus your nice, red bottom is high enough in the air that the street light is shining on it." Yep, he resumed the spanking, "You gave him something to dream about tonight."
Oh my God! Was he using Fourth of July Fireworks on my ass? I bit back what I could of my yelling, praying that the noise was muffled on the carpet. But the spanks were so loud they must have echoed through the parking lot. Granted, the area was completely secluded and far away from any residence, but still!
Finally. It was over. He pulled my panties back up, smoothed out my dress and sat me up.
"That was fun. I love birthdays," he said happily.
John was grinning as we returned to get the valet to bring us the truck. No lie, this guy was unsuccessfully hiding a smile as he looked over at me and I don't think it is because I was extra cute that night. How humiliating, right? That was when I realized that the windows were cracked open. They had to have heard everything! Kill Me now…
The drive home was quiet. Too quiet.
"Did you enjoy your dinner?" John asked after we started into the mountains toward our house. (We lived in Jamul, CA, at the time.)
"It was wonderful, especially the appetizers. I could live on that lobster trilogy."
"And how were your drinks?"
"I love their iced tea."
"That was evident. You had two of them."
Oh shit! He looked at the bill? He never looks at the bill! I am such a dumbass! Think, Bree, think!
"I have a two drink limit, remember? You never specified what it would consist of or how big the glass could be." GOTCHA Sir Smartypants! Foiled by your own rules.
"Didn't I tell you that you had enough after the first one? You remember, the one you drank right in front of me after I said no more?"
I never learn. These moments of insanity seem to pop up every now and then out of the blue and hijack my common sense. "You said not to have any more at that moment. You didn't designate how much time between the drinks."
"What is it with subbies that they have to throw in a smart ass comment when they know they are already in trouble?" he asked.
"Well, since you want to know…"
"The question was rhetorical and you know it. Not another word or I pull this truck over and get the hairbrush out of the glove compartment."
I
was not stupid enough to push that time. Fifteen minutes of silence passed before we pulled up into the pitch blackness of the property. Hope sprang in me—maybe there was a power outage? No such luck. The outside light flickered on and lit the path to the house; a single finger pointed in the direction I was to take.
"The corner. Bare-bottomed," he ordered.
Five minutes seems like forever when you know that your bottom is about to meet the judge, jury and executioner. Now, I don't get in trouble very often, but when I do, let's just say it is not a point in time that I like to be reminded of. The sound of the cane swishing made my stomach plummet.
I hate the cane. I loathe the cane. The cane is good for one thing and one thing only, other than being used as firewood, and that is to knock things off the shelves that I can't reach.
"Get into position," he said quietly.
At this point, most people ask me, "What the hell are you thinking?"
The answer is, "Run, subby, run! Go for the hills!" Sigh. I guess that is part of the subby insanity, something inside of us forces us to obey. It is a life that we've chosen, one that has many rewards that, at least for me, outweigh the punishments. But still…
Being in position meant on the bed, on my hands and knees, head down and bare backside pointing into the sky like a stark white beacon. Being a red-head makes for pale skin, and pale skin means that it reddens very quickly as well as holding the stripes from a caning.
Have I mentioned how much I hate the cane? Just checking…
He said nothing. He just swished that damn stick in the air, touched me a couple of times and swished again. I can always sense when a strike is coming though, and this time it was no different.
"Fuck!" I yelled into a pillow.
"What did you say?"
Great, so now he chooses to have super sensitive hearing. Funny how he never hears me when I ask him to take out the trash or put his clothes away, right?
"It slipped out! I'm sorry."
"You know the rules. Stay right where you are." He returned with the 'Dana'. Now, for those of you who don't know what this nasty thing is, it is a flexible neck paddle that ends with a rectangle made of rubber. Rubber is a funny thing. When it's nice and warm after sitting under a heating pad, it is wonderfully sensuous. Cold and stiff, it is formidable.
Confessions of a Spanking Author Page 5
