"We'll leave that to your wife," I joked. (His wife is a psychologist.)
He pulled out a rod and gave my butt the first of many whacks. It stung, but I liked it. He repeated the swat, in the exact same place. That is one of the hardest parts when receiving a spanking. So much buttock real estate but the spanker goes for the same tender spot over and over. Strategically! Because the repeated blows multiply the pain. He kept going. I liked it and it wasn't that bad. Although I wasn't stoic. He leaned next my ear and said, "so tell me what those fetishes are that you were too embarrassed to say before." I had no choice but to tell him about the choking, the dunking, the needles, the hand-cuffs. He was satisfied with my answer but the brief reprise from the spanking was over and another thrashing followed. I alternated between burying my face in the chair, running away from the pain and lifting my head, embracing it.
Then he pulled out a paddle. Hard wood on one side, soft sheep-skin on the other. A toy that utilized the confusion of the senses. Pleasure. Pain. Soft. Hard. Good.... Good? Sadly for me, he was stingy with the soft side. This spanking session wasn't for the faint of heart. Wallop is the best word to describe a paddle spank. With every wallop my butt-cheeks rippled. I bit my lip - half smiling, half wincing. I kept saying, "I feel like I've felt this before but I just can't place it." And "This is such a familiar feeling". The obvious answer is my childhood spankings but it bothered me that I couldn't associate it with a specific event, that my brain could pretend to forget them, but when stimulated the same way, it couldn't deny that it had happened before.
And then he stopped. What torture was he going impose now? This time there was no torture. He walked in front of me, stood on a stool and dropped his pants. I took his dick in my mouth and lathered it in my saliva, then sucked it off. I tasted his pre-cum. I love pre-cum. It's like diluted cum. Cum is too thick for my liking. But pre-cum is just right. Call me Goldilocks. He pulled his pants up without cumming; just enjoying a brief moment of pleasure, but not giving the red marks on my ass time to fade.
Throughout this whole game we had been casually role playing the "bad girl" character. After I sucked his cock, however, he smacked me in the face several times. I hated it. I hated it so much. For some reason, this wasn't play to me. This was degrading and horrible. Tears came to my eyes, but luckily he walked behind me and didn't see them. I would have been so embarrassed if he had seen. I managed to compose myself and enjoy the rest of our play.
The last tool in his chest was a small leather whip. Of the three tools I would rate the rod as the most painful. Then paddle. Then whip. But that's just me. After some playful whips though, he goes back to my nemesis, the rod. And after some of those strokes I started to reach my capacity. I started squirming wildly, begging him to stop - but still in the playful stage - so I give him a lot of credit for reading my cues right and knowing that I had had enough. He untied me and I got a chance to examine his work of art - my butt. It did not disappoint. Red from top to bottom, sore and burning hot to the touch. The invisible stretch marks suddenly made visible by the purple exploding veins.
I dressed and we sat on his couch in the dark and watched a comedy and cuddled. I mentioned that I didn't like the face slapping and he said something like, "now we know for next time. We learn as we go." It was cavalier but I liked his answer. When you play BDSM games you run that risk of someone crossing a line. You talk first and you prepare for it, but it's always a risk, which is why knowing and trusting your partner is very important. So now he knows. Next time we play, no face slapping. It's as simple as that.
He asked if I smoke marajuana. I said no. He asked if I minded if he did. I said I didn't mind and could I have some too? He said, "but you just said you don't smoke marajuana." "Well I don't, but... That doesn't mean I won't." So with that confusing conversation behind us we watched TV, cuddled and smoked. It was soooooooo relaxing. Getting up to leave was torture. But I did. We hugged goodbye. I pointed to my sexy, little shirt and said, "what I'm wearing." Then I put on a conservative, boring shirt on top. "What my husband thinks I'm wearing. (giggle)"
My ass was purple, top to bottom, for the next TWO WEEKS. I was very careful to not expose it to anyone. My husband generally only has sex with me from behind with me laying on my stomach. I managed to initiate sex cowgirl style and give lots of blow jobs to avoid getting caught. Although one time he did ask for sex from behind and I had to pretend to be sick.
I can't wait to do it again. And since Brian rudely dumped me later, it will have to be another man. I'm thinking Matt from Alt.com. He was into spanking. We met one time at Panara for lunch years ago but he didn't sweep me off my feet so I let him go. Now I'm wiser and I know that sometimes you have to let things simmer before they boil. (I think I just made up that corny metaphor). I hope he has lots of toys!