Pleasure and Pain

by Mistress C.

There was no one in the room. It had a small table with several candles, and a mat on the floor. Also across the table was a flogger, handmade from hemp, with knots tied in the end of each strand.

The flagellant walked into the center of the room, naked and still moist from the shower. He closed and locked the door behind himself, and lit the three candles. Kneeling on the floor he looked on the flogger, focused on repentance.

 After meditating upon the things that he felt guilt over, and thinking about what he would do differently in the future, he leaned forward and picked the flogger off the table. He held it 9n his hands for five minutes while kneeling there, feeling ashamed of his failings, and embarrassed that he knew in a few moments he would work his own flesh over with the stinging knotted cords. In his right hand he held it and swung it over his left shoulder with a moderate snap.

It slapped across the middle of his back and he winced. One, he counted softly out loud…..

It took a moment to get into the rhythm of it. He lost count, the sting overwhelming on his naked flesh, and stopped. With a deep breath he began again, disciplining himself to do it. He thought again of the transgressions he wished to clans himself of.

One.

One. Two Three.

He swung over the left shoulder, then the right, then the left, then the right. The hemp was not enough to tear his flesh and damage his skin, yet it hurt surprisingly more than her remembered. This was not the first time he had performed this ritual. It was an offering, an apology, a prayer.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Every time he brought the flail down it hit another spot, and the individual cords sprayed outward, striking in nine places at once.

Tears would well in his eyes soon, tears that no one would see. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. The slapping rhythm created a burning warmth across his back, and he changed the range of motion from above his shoulders to around his waist, the strikes landing in lower and different spots.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine.

Each stroke more painful than the last, yet his breathing was measured. Now that he was in motion, he was able to concentrate on the movement of the flogger, and simply allow his flesh to absorb the rain of blows. This time he counted to thirteen. Tears did well in his eyes. His mind was not aware of the overall number, but he knew it had not been -that- long. He knew better than to stop and calculate, once having begun, determined on carrying out the penance.

He counted to twenty-one, tears now rolling down his cheeks.

With difficulty, he began the final set of forty, landing strokes on his ass, his thighs, his back again, over and over, repeating the pattern.

Forty.

 Exhausted, he dropped the flogger from his hands.

Still kneeling he picked it up, kissed it, and placed it on the table. Lighting incense, he let the smoke caress his naked body, and knelt in a relaxed position, thinking again of all he wished to improve upon. With both humility and confidence he bowed to the floor, knelt again, and raised his hands to the sky. He uttered words of prayer, gratefulness, and pleas for assistance.

 His God was his Master, and his master was stern, but loving and kind. He knew his transgressions would be forgiven, that light would come again to his life, and that he would be helped to grow and change in positive ways that would make him more pleasing to his maker, his world, and himself.

He performed this ritual many times, until it became a metaphor, an understanding, and something he grew beyond.

He met a young one who had been as he had been, and passed the flail on. The postulate did not know what it was for, and he laughed quietly to himself, knowing that they would discover it’s power on some dark night, and knowing that it would teach them many things.

PART I

“No, please!” She blurted out at her boss, who was picking up the chair from her desk and dragging it into his office. Ominously he put it in the middle of the room.

“Shelly, let’s get this over with so we can go on to something else” He said firmly. “You already agreed, so let’s go into my office and take care of it.”

She looked like she was about to start crying on the spot, the pert little ninteen year old blonde. She was smart and liked people to see her as grown-up, he imagined that the thought of really getting a spanking didn’t make her feel very grown up.

He had left her to run the bookstore while he was at lunch, and came back in to catch her watching videos of girls getting spanked. There were no customers in the store, and she expected he’d take his usual hour long lunch rather than just hit a fast food place and bring her some snacks. Now he was going to see her cute little bottom turn rosey before him. He couldn’t wait. She looked very nervous, and it amused him.

There was an old ping pong table in the break room, and he wandered back and grabbed one of the paddles. It had a good grip and a ribbed rubber surface over thick wood. This would do nicely. After all, he had to reprimand her somehow- and this seemed to be a punishment that fit the crime. She was still stammering and hemming and hawing when he said “Now.” and grabbed her by the wrist, briskly walking her into the office. He closed and locked the door behind him.

Once inside, he told her to pull down her pants. She hadn’t heard those words in that inflection since she was about 8. He saw her shake a little, and it made him grin wickedly. She mutely obeyed, and laid herself over the chair he was pointing at.

SMACKSMACKSMACK

He brought the paddle down hard in rapid successin. She yelped, stunned by the sting.

“It’s not that I care what kind of porn you like, or that I think ladies shouldn’t watch porn- I’m not that hippocritical” He told her, slapping her ass again, hard. “It’s that you’re at work!” the paddle came down again. “What if some little old lady came in?” He paddled her hald a dozen more times and she wriggled around, her tight little pussy peeking out. “But if you can’t concentrate on working because you’re thinking about spanking, I think I can help you out!”

He alternated cheeks, watching small red half-moons appear across her buttocks as her continued giving her a real spanking. They both heard the stores automatic doorbell as a customer cam in. He looked down at her, laying across the chair with her naked bottom in the air; and had an idea of how to make her punishment seem even worse. “Young lady, you stay exactly where you are. No moving, no rubbing- this is NOT over. You think about it while I go take care of the customer and I’ll be back to tend to your pretty little ass when they’ve left. Don’t you dare move.” He commanded with an assured quiet firmness. She whimpered but stayed right there as she was told. He walked out of the office and left her there, closing the door quickly behind him.

He took his time with the customer, showing them around, asking them questions. She could over hear him, and he hoped it was driving her nuts to have her punishment dragged out. Twenty minutes later the guy left with tree coffe table books full of world photography, and he returned to the office.

Shelly was still laying across the chair, red marks visible on her bottom. He saw her tense and relax as he walked in. “Good Girl.” He said flatly, as he walked over to his own chair. Sitting down, he said “Come here, and don’t even bother pulling your pants up. She hobbeled over, trying to cover her pussy, and blushed as she moved to lay across his lap quickley. He started to spank her with his hand immediately, short, hard, raipd strokes. It seemed that she was trying not to make a fuss, but having a little trouble with that. She bounced up and down with the force of his hand spanking her until her ass was hot to the touch. Then he made her go stand in the corner with her bottom exposed, knowing that it would be throbbing and over-sensitized. He went on to make several buisness calls while she stood there like that.

PART 2 IS UP, CLICK HERE: http://agoodhardspanking.sensualwriter.com/let-the-punishment-fit-the-crime/

( Wow- this is smoking hot. Thanks to Mr. Crighton for letting me share this stuff. I may need a cold shower or something now, lol, - Victoria )

M/f, consentual sensual and domestic disciplinary spanking story

My folks in Montana had put out a great Thanksgiving dinner. The snow outside, the fire in the fireplace, the quiet woods all around, not to mention a full meal tucked away, turned us to reflections on life and family. The game was on, and Sarah and Mom were chatting in the kitchen, fussing with the machinery of after-dinner pie and coffee.

“How do you two do it?” Mom had asked me earlier. “You and Sarah are so good together…”

I had smiled, shrugged and changed the subject, but I knew what the secret was. Now I began to think over our four year history together, living in our little beach town near LA. The living room around me began to blur and fade, and I felt a flashback coming on…

When I started dating Sarah that sunny, wild summer, I wasn’t comfortable about pursuing involvement in the scene yet, and I was too worried that she might not be cool with it. But I was a spanker with a vanilla girl who had the cutest, bounciest caboose in the neighborhood… clearly, something had to give.

Eventually, it did. There were two Big Moments in our relationship which I treasure in my memory.

The first Big Moment was when I finally told her one night that I really wanted to spank her - and she smiled back and whispered “Okay…” To her, it meant playful little sensuous spankings. It got us both pretty turned on, and at least spanking was somehow in the mix.

I had mentioned “really” spanking her, sort of hinting at it, but as far as I knew, she wasn’t biting. I did get her to watch a couple of spanking videos with me, though. She winced and said “Ooh! I bet that really smarts…” a few times, but not much else.

The second Big Moment, the one that led to the little story I’m about to tell, occurred the next year - she finally told me she wanted me to spank her… hard.

It was just after she had moved in with me, and she was sitting on my lap on the leather couch, as we watched a movie. Not the greatest movie, obviously. She just brought it up, out of the blue.

“You know, I mean…” she said shyly, “like a… a punishment, for being naughty. I want to be a bad girl, and have you… um, deal with me.”

“Really?” I said. “Well, hmmm… we’ll have to see about that.” I kissed her.

I was excited by the revelation, and a little surprised… she not only knew what a real punishment spanking was, she wanted to explore that experience. Not the real severe stuff, she made sure to tell me.

So we talked. She told me she just kept thinking about it, what it would feel like, if she could be strong enough to surrender to it… and if she could take the pain, and not chicken out when it really stung.

I told her about how something makes me want a reason to really spank her delightful bottom… to push her into a bad little girl place, with no self-consciousness, no shame, no embarrassment, no responsibility, emotionally collapsed and hurting… and then to pick her up, make her know she is loved, help put her back together, with all the bad stuff cried clean out of her.

I kept telling her it would hurt - I wanted her to be appropriately afraid and nervous. She said she got it, and I should also trust her to know what she wanted. Touché.

So, the next Friday evening about dusk, when she walked in the door with a new hat and about $600 worth of new clothes, and happily thanked me for the use of my credit card, I didn’t have to wonder what was going on.

I didn’t get angry - I smiled as I looked at her, and I thought, well, she couldn’t have made it any clearer, and I will NOT fail to act. As of right then, the punishment spanking was in motion. She couldn’t know what it would really be like, but there was only one way to show her.

“Sarah, you’re not stupid - your shopping trip on my card, without permission, deserves a punishment. There is no ambiguity here Sarah, you have been a bad girl, for real. So I’m really going to spank you, and it’s going to start now.”

She got as far as “Oh, Danny, let’s just-”

“NO!” I shouted, with an anger that shocked her, “Listen - every time you don’t do what I tell you tonight, or you try to argue with me, your punishment will get worse. I am dead cold serious, Sarah. This is how it works. I am NOT kidding around - I am in full disciplinarian mode, not boyfriend mode.

“So you put those bags down, get upstairs NOW, and wait for me in the bedroom, in the straight back chair. The skirt you’re wearing is fine, for now. GO! I’ll be right with you.”

She opened her quivering mouth, then shut it, then stomped upstairs, even rolling her eyes… she was really enjoying her own naughtiness now. And so was I, secretly.

I had some coffee and finished reading an article in the paper. Then I smiled on my way upstairs to our room, putting my hard face back on at the door.

She was right there in the chair - good girl! “Stand up, Sarah,” I said, “I’ll sit there.”

She got up and smiled, swished her light brown hair back, and said “I guess I was pretty naughty, wasn’t I?”

Instead of an answer, I sat down in the chair beside her, and took her arm, pulling her over my lap, and said “Yes, we both know why you’re getting punished, now I just need to carry it out.”

She kind of play-wriggled, and made exasperated sounds, and then I gave her her first hard spank.

After a few swats, I got her skirt out of the way, and the real spanking began - brisk and sharp, laying a warm foundation in her bottom, sometimes pausing, then delivering a flurry of harder spanks until she whimpered and tensed up, then backing off again… I ignored the increasing noises of protest she made, and kept at it.

After a couple minutes, it was time for the panties to go down. She was trying not to let me know how her bottom stung, as if I couldn’t read her body’s reactions like a book.

“I’m sorry, Danny!” She said, “It’s actually hurting a bit, and I do feel punished, come on…”

“Sarah, is your punishment so dull you feel inclined to start up a conversation? This is not discussion time, young lady, it’s ’spank-owee-spank-owee’ time - I do the spank part, you got the ‘owee’ part.”

“But I’m really sorry! You know,” she said softly, looking back up at me, tilting up her rear, “I’m actually kind of turned on, Sweetie… can’t you tell?”

I spanked her five times, fast and hard, the first ones on her bare cheeks, and got the expected squeal. “OOoowww!! Danny!”

“What did I just tell you? OF COURSE YOU’RE SORRY! You’re just like every other girl who gets a spanking - during the spanking, you’re sorry. You’d feel sorry even if you’d just cured cancer and had never done anything wrong in your life. No duh, you’re sorry.

“What you’re not getting is, I DON’T CARE!” I was smiling when I said it - I really didn’t care. I was a man on a mission.

“You’re getting punished, Sarah, and nothing will change that - not sorry, not promises, not pity, not even your sexy, wriggling posterior. Or this.” I tickled her little quim peeking out under her bottom. “Okay? Sorry has nothing to do with this. The same goes for flirting. Got it?”

The break from spanking had brought back her brattiness, as I thought, and she whined “Aw, but Danny-”

SMACK!!! She gasped. I began again, spanking her lovely pert bottom, watching it jiggle and get a little pinker… she was crying out more now, and struggling, but I just tuned it out and kept spanking away. She was getting louder, sounding more panicked, and I kept going… it was probably only another two minutes. I was waiting for the moment… she was crying out “SORRY” repeatedly, despite what I had just told her. I kept pushing…

Then I heard it - real crying, the helpless kind. Her hand came back to cover her bottom, the classic involuntary move of the spankee in distress.

I grabbed the wrist and held it to the small of her back.

“NO HAND! BAD SARAH!”

An intense flurry of about ten spanks brought her vocalizations up a few decibels, and about half an octave…

Then I stopped. I gently rubbed her, and whispered “Shhhhh… it’s okay, it’s over… just relax, Sweetie…” She gradually melted, her breathing slowed back down, and she relaxed.

As soon as she began to make those pleasure sounds of hers, gyrating her bottom under my rubbing hand, I hauled her up to her feet, and said “Right! On to the next level!”

“WHAT?!” She yelled, “You said it’s all over!”

“Yes, the hand spanking part. Now we go to the next thing. Did you think that was it?”

Of course she did… my puzzled look was for my own amusement.

She opened her mouth to say something, and I cut her off, with “On your tummy, Sarah, right there on the edge of the bed. Grab a pillow to hold onto, and put the other one under your hips, and present your bottom for me.”

“What happens now?” she said, but at least she did as I said.

“That’s my concern, just stay right there.”

I went and got the hairbrush and the small leather strap, came back, and found her still in place. God, she looked hot. I was getting noticeably hard… I would have to be strong and committed to my task. But first, I thought, I’ll change into pyjamas. Light, soft fabric, sans boxers. She stayed put, bless her heart - no sass left, just scared anxiety.

Time for a little encouragement… I leaned over and kissed her cheek, and said softly “You’re doing fine, Sarah. But you’re going to get the punishment I’ve decided, and you just need to trust that I know what I’m doing. But it’s going to get harder now. Can you trust me, Sarah? Are you going to take the rest of it?”

“I… well, what… Hey, Danny…?”

Perfect - she was really worried. If she felt truly scared and a bit helpless, she would be moved to tears more easily, and I wouldn’t have to spank her as hard and long. Not that she wouldn’t be sure it was the hardest, longest spanking ever - but my girl’s a real trooper.

I began removing her clothes… “Shhh, Sarah, I know you will be okay. You’ll be just fine, I know you’ll make it…” Was that nice or mean of me? Didn’t matter… Soon I had her stark naked, and in position.

“Now, stick that bottom up… get those legs apart, keep them straight, toes on the floor… the next level of your punishment is about to begin… That spanking up until now was really only a warm up, Sarah. I just want you to be prepared. Legs straight, Sarah. Toes on the floor. Bottom up.”

Then I saw her right leg and her right bottom cheek quiver a little… excellent. She knew what was coming, or what she thought was coming. I patted her bottom, and she jerked, and whimpered.

Her low-level panic would do most of my work - she knew her boyfriend was now going to make her bottom hurt more than it ever had, but she had agreed to it all, and there was no real way to back out… that was scary. She was breathing faster, quivering a little… and…

POW!!!!

The strap made its debut on the middle of her right cheek, and she shrieked and jerked. I kept the strap coming down fast and hard, relentless. It’s a medium-light strap, so I can really put muscle into it (and I mean full on swing muscle), but without doing too much real damage.

But she could kind of see me behind her, swinging full force, hear the loud crack on her bottom, hear me grunting and breathing with effort… all that tripped her crying switch - she was breathing fast now, crying more and more like a little girl, quivering with adrenaline, gasping, feeling truly desperate, with no escape - the actual pain was really only a part of it.

Then she started with the leg kicking, and I stopped. “Legs!” I said sternly. “Bottom!” She whined. “By the count of three, young lady, ONE, TWO-” That did it, she got right back into position. SMACK-SLAP-SPANK…

I had to smile - an experienced spankee would have perhaps been saying “OW!” by now, just to make me feel appreciated. She was breathing fast, making little high noises.

I started to feel like I could drive Sarah’s body, and her mind, where I wanted them to go. It felt good.

I tuned out all the noise, and kept one eye on how her bottom was coloring, and one on her body language. Both were becoming a bit more intense…

“DANNY-DANNY-DANNY-OW-IT-HURTS-NOOO!-AAAAAHHH-…HAAAA-…”

She tensed up a lot and got louder again, but I kept it until I heard that particular quaver in her cries… then I laid on three more fast hard ones, and as she squealed a glass-breaking note on the last one… I stopped. Her crying subsided slowly.

She panted and sniffled for a little, gradually realizing it wasn’t that bad, and I rubbed her bottom and muttered soothing sounds.

Before long, her hips started to grind and thrust involuntarily, and there was some moaning. Uh-oh. One of those, I thought. Damn, back to business.

I bent down to her ear, and whispered “Sarah, you are doing just great! You’re a real champ, Sweetie - and you’re already two thirds through!”

That started the crying again… “Oh, Danny… please… I can’t…”

“Sarah!” I said crossly, “what did I tell you? I know what you can take, and you aren’t even close. Your bottom is a bright, glowing pink, but it’s not really marked hardly at all. It doesn’t really hurt that much right now, does it? Just very warm and achy, right? Could you honestly tell me now that you have reached your limit? Really?”

“Well… but, Danny, it was hurting… I was thinking of saying it soon when you stopped…”

“Oh, so the naughty, bad little girl’s bottom hurts - Excellent! Otherwise, I’d have to start over,” I said cheerily.

“But believe me, I left plenty of room for extra punishment. If you would really like to argue the point, I will gladly demonstrate to you that you can indeed take quite a bit more - you want that?”

“Danny, NO! STOP IT! I’m done!”

But she didn’t say “pepper.”

“Sarah, I’ll tell you something - when I hear NO! from you while you’re being spanked, you know how I translate it? To me, it means ‘Please spank me harder.’ Because that was the rule I gave you earlier, and I’m sure you remember.”

She started her soft pity crying - she thought she couldn’t possibly get through another episode like the two she’d had, but I knew that she could. I checked her bottom… a nice, even glow, with a couple slightly darker spots. And she had pretty delicate skin. Even our playful spankings put a blush in her derriere.

“Come on, get up,” I said, and lifted her off the bed, leading her to the chair - a new position I wanted to try. I sat on the chair, and told her to straddle me, and lean against my chest. I could reach around to her bottom easily, and she could cling to me for dear life.

My left hand was cupped right under her bottom, my right hand wielding the hard, flat little hairbrush.

“Just put your head on my shoulder, and wrap your arms around my neck, legs around the back of the chair… good… now, don’t try to climb off, just hold on tight… this is going to be the hardest part of your punishment, Sarah - but listen… Sarah, listen to me…

“If you try to put your hand back there, or try to escape, or bite me or something, you’ll be too busy yelling from the paddling I’ll give you then to say ‘pepper’ - you got that?”

I was laying it on a bit thick, I guess, and she started sobbing at a low idle again, dug her face into my shoulder and held onto me…

Time to begin.

CRACK!!! After one hard one that made her jerk and start wailing, I began to methodically spank that beautiful round bottom, at a measured pace, letting each spank take effect. She was sore and all set for some terrifying pain, so a sharp flick of the wrist was all I needed. Her body, naked, clinging to me, straddling my lap, that worked wonderfully. I softened the spanks, spaced them out… steady… I had a good view of her bottom over her shoulder, and she stuck it out enough to hit the round part. It was slower, light to moderate, but on a sore bottom.

I won’t try to describe the sounds and the movements her body made, but it was… emotional. I began to sort of rock back and forth with her in the chair.

Some time went by…

Then she crossed the line. She became a puddle of girl-goo, softly bawling her eyes out, not bothering to struggle, resigned to her miserable fate. She probably would have used the safety word then if she had been able to think of it, I’m sure, and if I had kept going.

I lightened more, slowed down, and gradually she realized that she didn’t need to be bawling in pain, and began to regain her senses…

I became her caressing, caring boyfriend again, rubbing the cream into her bottom, kissing away her tears… I really was proud of her, and I loved her so much… it didn’t take her long to get that it was really all over, and that she was loved, and the hurt was going away, and now it was all niceness and rubbing.

We didn’t speak for about three minutes, and I can’t describe how good her body felt in my arms… She pulled her head off my shoulder, all the crying done, and she was smiling big, her face shiny with tears.

“Danny, I just realized… I really did it! I really did! I took it all, and I was a good girl for you too! Well, mostly… it hurt so bad, but only for a while, and I did what you told me and everything! I did it!” She started kissing me, and now I was crying a little, and we were so happy. Both of us were proud of her, and I carried her gingerly to bed.

Her bottom was marked and sore for a few days, but she said it was more like an achy glow that made her smile to think of me during the day. The very next evening, she bent over the kitchen table and raised her bare bottom for me… but this time, it was not for spanking.

 In case you haven’t caught it, I just finished a FREE 42 page downloadable preview as a teaser for my three books of spanking fiction. Check out the out on the gateway page:

http://spankingfettish.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-feel-sexy-for-having-done-this.html

 Chapter 1

 I told her to do something she did not expect.

“That doesn’t sound like much of a punishment.” The beautiful young woman said, licking her full pouty lips.

“Oh, it will be, you impertinant girl.” I replied “Now go put those really tight jeans on and sit on the chair in the punishment corner.”

I intended to teach her a lesson she would not forget easily.

“It is not your place to dictate how I punish you.” I instructed her as she sat down, now looking more nervous. “Nor your place to analyze how I do the things I do. You will obey me.” I informed her.

Then I made her unzip her jeans and place a vibrator against her clitoris, zipping the jeans back up. I knew this would make it press hard against the woman’s pleasure center. I knew she would enjoy the sensation of the vibrator turned all the way up, momentarily. She would wrythe against it, swirling her hips. I would watch in amusment as it began. Then, soon enough, the relentlessly whirring motor would become uncomfortable.

I placed a laptop computer in her lap, smiling. “You will begin your punishment diary now. ” I tell her. You will write about how I allowed a strange man to spank your bare bottom in a hotel room, and sat there watching. You will write about what happened and how it made you feel.” I told her.

For a moment I bent down, pulling her legs open and secured them to opposing chair legs with rope attached to sturdy eye hooks in the floor. She almost winced, the vibratior digging into her clit harder and pulsating loudly. She blushed at me.

“You will sit here for an hour, and you will not speak. When you have finished the entry in your punishment diary, you will write me a respectful note asking me to spank and whip you. When the hour is up, I will read your writing, and decide just how bad things are going to get for your perky little bottom. ”

Now she looked mildly horrified.

“It’s going to hurt.” I added.

“And then, I’m going to post all the dirty little deatails” I finished as she paled.

He eyes pleaded, full of embarasment. I simply walked ouut of the room and left her there to muse on her fate. I popped back in with a kitchen timer and set it for an hour, putting it backwards on a table across the room. She could hear it ticking, but not see the numbers.

I stared at her sternly, also setting a heavy wood backed hairbrush on the table next to the timer. She pressed her lips together hard, fighting herself not to say anything. A tiny moan escaped her lips as she wriggled in her seat, staring back desperately before forcing herself to look at the laptop screene. She took a deep breath, trying to concentrate, and the struggle was visible.

I simply walked out of the room, loving my own creativity.

The girl was mine, and it pleased me to show her how painful pleasure can become.

Watch the “Slave Training Page” to Read More as this story continues…

M/f spanking- discipline
From Whipping Girl by Victoria Fox

The first time Robert spanked me I was still a teenage girl, just barely out on my own. He was a good friend of mine, who I had looked up to for years. He was an incredibly beautiful college boy, just a few years older than me. When you’re that young though, a 22 year old can seem worldly. He was an incredible writer and musician, he had traveled and done some acting, and he knew how to be a good friend. I guess I might say he was the older brother I never realized I had until I met him.

In his family he had to be pretty mature at a young age. His dad passed away when he was too young to remember, and his mom had to work a lot to rake care of the family. There were younger brothers and sisters, which he was responsible for looking after as soon as he was old enough.

We bonded on a lot of things. And I had a schoolgirl crush on him that made me almost weak at the knees sometimes. I wanted him to like and respect me, to see me as beautiful, to please him, and to somehow make him proud.

Pride wasn’t exactly what I was going for that Saturday afternoon. or at least, if it was, I found myself stripped of it in a way I simultaneously wanted and hated. He actually spanked me! Hard. It stunned me, and made my brain do summer salts that turned into cart-wheels.

I had moved out of my folks house and was living with several college aged friends who were all a few years older than me. As the youngest, they regularly liked to impart their wisdom in a variety of ways. Sometimes that meant taking me out and introducing me to the grown-up world, which I adored. Sometimes it meant they’d lecture me on all mannor of things they thought I needed to become more responsible about. This was one such occasion.

I hadn’t eaten in a couple of days. I had sugar-crashed, and was a little out of my head. I don’t remember if I was trying to diet, or if I just sort-of forgot with the all my social business. I was in the middle of trying to be all cosmopolitan and make out with a girl to satisfy my curiosity about what that would be like. Robert was there and saw me kissing her, and I could tell he found it hot, so I wanted to keep kissing her. I momentarily got up of the couch to get us all some soda, had a dizzy head-rush and sat back down. It didn’t occur to me why.

Robert looked at me funny and asked when I had eaten last. He was concerned. I told him that I didn’t remember and he asked me if I had dinner the night before. I didn’t think so. I also didn’t remember lunch. I was more concerned with going back to kissing the pretty girl I had over and watching him get hot and bothered. It was fun to play with my new found sexual power.

I told him I was fine, and got back up to go get the drinks. He gave me a hard look and told me I needed to eat. Halfway to the kitchen I looked back and told him I didn’t feel hungry and didn’t want to eat right now. Then he told me he didn’t care if I felt hungry, he knew my body was hungry. He was insistent.

That made me feel like a scolded kid, and every 18 year old will tell you that they’re not a little kid anymore. I put on my casual sophisticate face and told him I’d eat later. That wasn’t good enough and he scolded me once more. Then I got defiant, snotty. Even now, writing this, it makes me gulp. I told him that I wasn’t a child and I could take care of myself. He told me that I was acting like one and wasn’t taking good care of myself by not eating. I actually said “What are you going to do, spank me?” and shot him an I-dare-you-look.

Some people should not be dared, not unless you want them to follow through. I did want him to follow through, but I wasn’t expecting it. I was just being bratty and thought I could get away with it. Also, secretly I wanted him to do it. That was the first time the little professor in my mind stepped back and watched. I knew that I had been having fantasies about being spanked and that they turned me on. I also felt embarrassed about those thoughts, and was afraid that people would think I was a freak if they knew. I wasn’t sure how, but the request had slipped out my mouth.

He moved fast. Faster than I thought possible. “Huh?” I said in shock as he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back to the couch. I struggled against him, but he was too strong. Suddenly I felt helpless as he flipped me around and sat down with me pinned somehow, across his lap.

I realized in a split second the temerity of my situation. Instantly he had the edge of my cute little black skirt in his hands and was yanking it up. I pleaded with single word sentences gulped out in one breath- ‘Wait. But. Noooo. Please’ One more yank and my green satin panties were at my knees. Both Pascal and the pretty girl I had been kissing could see my butt. My protests were obviously not working. I felt exposed and was suddenly scared. My little girlfriend giggled and encouraged him. She thought I needed a spanking, too.

The first smack landed and I yelped. He had big hands and I had as pert round little bottom, his hand must have covered most of my left cheek. I was mortified. It left a hot spot that my mid didn’t quite have time to process before another smack landed just as hard on the other side. I wriggled, but couldn’t get away. It hurt more than it did in my fantasies, and I couldn’t believe it was really happening. It was. Another six swats fell back and forth, and my bottom was starting to feel really hot and stingy. I thought to myself ‘Oh, my God, I’m going to die’ as the spanking continued, even though I knew my friend wouldn’t really harm me.

He was only using his hand. I had been imagining getting spanked with things- like a hairbrush or a belt. It shocked me to realize that as he continued to spank me, and I felt like I couldn’t ‘t handle it- and even more surprised that it didn’t seem to matter weather or not I thought I could handle it- I was getting the spanking anyway. Among other things he told me I deserved it- that he knew what to do with a bratty little girl. Apparently he did.

I tried to settle myself down and take it, even though he was slapping my bare bottom forcefully. I knew that I had asked for it, literally. Just because I didn’t think I’d get called on my snotty little comment didn’t mean that I couldn’t get called on it- or shouldn’t. I knew that. For a moment as he kept smacking me I got very forlorn, realizing that my friend had just been looking out for me and I got snotty without really intending to be disrespectful. I guessed maybe I did deserve it, for a lot of reasons, and felt embarrassed.

I felt like it would go on forever, or at least that I had no idea how long it would go on. The movement of his hand created the energy of waves of scorching flames. In some distant land my mouth was opening and I heard myself gasp “Owwww… I’m soreeee…” and loose breath. My awareness caught it at the edge of my reality, which was immersed in the hellish feeling of my bottom getting scorched. It stung like mad, and my perception of time seemed to make it feel both faster and longer than it seemed really possible. He landed a few really good swats at the tops of my things, which definitely got my attention and snapped me out of it.

“OWW!” I wailed more loudly “That hurts!”, from whatever part of my psyche that still thought I could make some kind of demand or command here. That was obviously not going to work.

He just spanked me harder, and laughed with the most mischievous snicker I could imagine. Glee. I could hear glee in the bellowing laughter. I realized much to my chagrin that he was -enjoying- giving me this spanking. My distress was not making him feel sorry for me, it was making him amused that he was getting his point across very clearly. I felt my face blush as hot as my bottom. He knew me to well, and for the way we were with each other he clearly had the right to do this.

We had a silent understanding.

“I was being snotty, I know!” I yelped out, as another few swats fell “I’m so sorry! Really!” I squealed girl-like way that made me feel less than dignified. The position I was in wasn’t exactly dignified. I was a young woman on my own, I could drive a car and hold a job– and I was still getting a bare bottomed spanking like a naughty kid, weather I liked it or not.

Strangely, I felt a sense of relief in that. I didn’t have to be in charge. Even though it hurt and I really desperately wanted it to stop for at least a minute, this weird sense of security and love washed over me. I wanted to hold onto it, look at it, appreciate the beauty of that feeling.

I know, what a weird thing to have thought or felt in the middle of becoming increasingly miserable, bit it’s exactly what happened. There were feelings of love all mixed up in the indignity of getting a spanking; the embarrassment and shame of it also making me feel repentant and somehow grateful.

“I’m so sorry.” I nearly whispered “I’ll be good. I’ll east something. I promise.”

He laughed again and spanked me about five more times.

“Are you going to remember this?” He asked.

“Oh, I’m going to remember, for sure!” I said, breathlessly, my had still pinned to the middle of my back and my bottom still exposed. The cool air on it made the heat of it almost flare more. “Oww. “

“Hmm.” He said, musing, dragging it out for me. “Fascinating.” He said, and I blushed. I stammered something pleading about being hungry, and then we both laughed, and I felt his wrist release mine. I’m sure I must have jumped up with a quickness to pull up my panties and pull my skirt back down. I probably danced around for half a minute, and rushed to the kitchen to put a burger on and bring them soda’s. I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

He looked at me, eyes glittering and piercing into my psyche. “What did you learn?’ he asked, somehow gently and sternly at the same time.

I know that I must have given him the correct answers. I don’t remember exactly what I said. I may have tried to be cute first. Say something like “That a spanking hurts!” To try to make him laugh and look for reassurance. He was soft-hearted, if I had, I’m sure he would have sat down and cuddled up with me.

I would have still been embarrassed wanted evade admitting what just happened and why. That I had pretty much dared him to spank me, and that I had both wanted it and deliberately tried to provoke it would have been something I was afraid to acknowledge. I don’t think he would have forced that out of me, but he would have looked at me in a way that told me we both knew something. It was a real spanking, but there was something intimate about it. That confused me. At the time I was far from any kind of submissive creature, in fact I rebelled against anything that looked like authority which was not to be trusted. Robert however, I trusted. He was very smart, I’m sure he also noticed my reactions and realized that it both turned me on and scared me a little, and immediately had a dramatic effect on my behaviour. I’m sure he used this, and I’m glad he did.

I don’t mean that we got into a lot of other scenarios like this, though there were a couple of other moments. I mean that he got into my mind in a way that to this day I appreciate. He taught me a lot of things, and imparted to me the idea of a code of ethics upon which to base your choices in life. Yes, on that day he addressed several things with me by spanking me like a recalcitrant child- he deliberately reinforced the idea that good nutrition is an important part of taking care of yourself, and that being snotty was not acceptable. There was more than that, though.

For instance:

Not accepting an order or following a rule you now to be good for you is inappropriate.

Accepting authority blindly may be foolish, but not accepting authority that acts in your best interest is unwise.

Friends sometimes show their caring by being concerned, and reacting with needless defiance is not an appropriate way to behave.

I am responsible for my own actions and behaviour.

I am not always in charge.

I can be punished.

If my behaviour is incorrect I should want to understand what I am doing wrong and be taught to do better.

When we were hanging out we would talk for hours, and exchange the little details of life, and he reinforced those ideas in so many ways; often stopping in conversation and asking me “What did you learn from this?” I learnt, though I couldn’t have articulated it then, that I love people who have something to teach me and that sometimes getting punished is a useful teaching experience. I haven’t seen him in many years, but to this day when appropriate I ask myself “what have I learned from this?” Without my realizing it, he trained me to do so, and that has been helpful if not always comfortable. It started that day, with him pinning me down and baring my bottom for a spanking

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