Thursday, October 18

Spank Those Bottoms Blog

Today's entry is about the blog site Spank Those Bottoms. The owner of the blog, Rick, left a comment on my last entry thanking me for my link and offering his services in gif making:
As always, great post girl keep up the good work. Loved your 'comment inserts'. If you ever need a gif or animation for a post, feel free to let me know and I'll see what I can come up with, you have my Email. Also big thanks for keeping us in your 'blogs I follow'. 😎😎😎...
I kind of liked the "girl" reference. Made me a bit squishy. You all know that my switch is easily switched if you catch me at the right moment!

In this mood, I went to take a more careful look at Rick's blog and found myself getting very turned on as a submissive. He has 1000's of entries going back more than a decade. He takes various spanking media and makes little gif's out of them. Fun! With Rick's blessing I collected up a bunch of them and repost them here with my comment. I only picked out those that made me a little wet and made those butterflies fly in my tummy.

After I made this blog post. I "previewed" it in a very naughty way (BLUSH!). I put a discrete (*) next to the one I fixated on as it happened for me. I'm a very bad girl and desperately need my husband to spank me. NOW!

These first two I found to be very cute. There's just something about a bare naked hand spanking across a man's knee that turns me on something fierce. I imagine there are male witnesses present, watching me catch it from my fed-up man.When my tits hang over his knee and jiggle with each spank (they really do!) I can only imagine how amused my onlookers would be. Is there anything more humiliating for a girl??? This will be a theme...

Yes, there is something more embarrassing for a girl, as illustrated in this one. This is the view a man gets during certain spankings. This spanking is being given by a girl, but that is incidental (I find myself leaning towards boy tops, nowadays...). The flogger has ready access to all the parts of a girl. I would want my disciplinarian to make sure the tips go everywhere!

I have literally been in just such an exposed position, shown off to a man who is not my husband. Oh Blush!

I imagine this is me across my husband's knee. No witnesses. The intimacy excites me in this one. I have been naughty. Undone chores I imagine. Or maybe being snippy with him? Or spending too much? My skirt has been pulled up, and my panties have been pulled down. Far enough to expose me completely. Not far enough that I am not humiliatingly aware they have been lowered for a spanking. He is spanking hard. My bottom is red. My pussy is on full parade. I am looking distressed, and I am saying something. I think I am promising to not repeat the misbehavior and begging him to stop, please stop! The little jacknifing across his knee and kick of the legs only exposes me more. Thank gawd nobody is here to witness it!!!!

The cutest part is when she bends over that little bit extra. It is something I have done deliberately to show myself off...

Here I am again being spanked by my husband in the privacy of the basement den. He is strong and holding me in place. I am not going anywhere! My ass is turned upwards and jiggles in a womanly fashion with every smack of his hard hand. My sex and my bottom hole are on display to him. After my spankings, I am required to submit to intercourse. If I have been a good girl, it is only my pussy that will receive a good pounding. But I have not been a good girl... it will have to be bum sex (been there, had that).

Oh no! This time I am not getting away with it. I was rude to our guest, I will be punished in front of our guest. It will be in the most humiliating manner imaginable: panties down, bare bottomed across his knee, kicking and shrieking like a banshee. My reactions, combined with a thoroughly reddened bottom, ought to be all the apology our guest needs. And yet my mean husband will make me stand in front of him after my spanking, panties down, skirt up, facing him, and cry out a verbal apology before I am sent to the corner to face it, bare bum, hands on head, while the men admire my spanked bottom as they drink their Scotch Whiskey.

I will blush at comments regarding my sexual performance, and how "responsive" I must be in the sack...

This one, unfortunately, does not happen in the privacy of the bedroom.  There was a discussion with another couple about domestic discipline. My husband tells the other couple I am regularly disciplined, but it does little good as I seem to enjoy it. They are incredulous! This is how my husband is proven right.

How embarrassing for a girl to have to show off such a wet kitty!

I am alone on a business trip in Vegas. A convention. I am in the casino. A man's wallet drops out of his back pocket. I pick it up. It's filled with cash! I can chase after him. I don't. I go up to my room with his wallet and all that cash. I will take the cash and drop the wallet anonymously in the lost and found tomorrow. Unfortunately, this man is "connected" and his "in" with casino security shows him the security camera footage. The facial recognition identifies me as a guest. Security asks if the man wishes to press charges. No, he'll take care of this himself. The security man gives him my room number and cuts him a card key. The man promises the guard that no serious harm will come to me...

I am half-naked, getting ready for bed, as he keys into my room. I go for my pistol! He easily subdues me and takes my gun. He gives my bum a good whacking and then lays me face down on the bed telling me to grab my ass with my hands and keep them there. He calls down to his buddy in security, and asks him to bring him up a razor strop and a switch, because this feisty bitch needs to be taught a lesson. I lie there until the doorbell rings. The security card hands him the implements. I can feel his eyes on my naked rear end. He is not allowed to stay and watch.

I must strip completely and stand in front of the unshaded window. Oh my gosh, somebody will see me! I am kept standing there for 20 minutes, fully exposed to the outside world, as he works the switch painfully across my ass and legs.

He takes me to the bed and puts me face down, bent over the hotel pillows. He then uses the hard leather razor strop on my bare backside until I am sobbing and begging him for mercy. I promise to do anything, anything, if only he will let me off! All he wants is to give me my justly-deserved beating. He leaves with his wallet and cash telling me to watch my step in his city. He doesn't even fuck me...

Yes, this is my subby fantasy of what happens when I don't behave. My husband's belt comes off and my bottom is strapped until I cannot sit down for a week.

I love the strap-marking in the lower pic. So uniform, with the thighs not spared. And her expression of pain and anguish. It turns me on, imagining myself in her place...

What appeals to me is the clothed man and the fully naked "me".  My bare breasts rubbing against the far side of his clothed thigh, my nipples scraping the couch.  The spanking is long and severe and is only halfway through. Why must I be fully bared for my spanking? Why? To teach me a lesson. To teach me who wears the pants in the family. The pain is real, the cries are real, the tears are real.

I have been hand-spanked like this across my husband's knee, to tears. I know exactly what she is going through...

I have not been doing a good job keeping the kitchen clean. As punishment, I must strip and clean every square inch of it to a shine. Partway through, my man reminds me to be a good housewife from now on. Why does this turn me on????

For some reason, I thought of this one as my Daddy doing this to me in the living room. He is fed up to here with my disobedient ways. From now on I will do my chores, and I will do them without being snippy to Mom. For a daughter who was last spanked when she was six years old, this is a very hard lesson I have to learn.

This is my Daddy again. I have a girl friend over. We have been chattering away and laughing and playing pillow fights. It is 2am and tomorrow is a schoolday. Daddy has already warned me twice. Last time, in front of my friend, he said that if he has to come back again, I'll be getting a spanking. Ha! I called his bluff!

What I like about this one is how helpless this girl is across her strong man's knee. Her panties are already bunched into her ass like a thong. They offer no protection! They still have to be lowered. A point needs making. The point will be made with her pussy and bottom hole bared.

I imagine this schoolgirl was caught shoplifting and is in the police station. The cops have a way of dealing with pretty little entitled shoplifters. She is given a choice: a criminal record, or summary punishment. The door is left open so she can be made an example of in front of the whole police station. She is stripped naked and made to stretch across the police sergeant's old wooden desk. Her tits are pushing into the hardwood. It is not good enough that she is completely on display. Her legs must be spread farther apart, wide as they can go, so she can learn some humility.

This is what happens in school when you persistently miss your homework and cheat on your test! Look at her burying her face in her hands in mortified embarrassment. It is because this spanking is happening in front of the whole class. Boys and girls. Little miss popular social butterfly. Spanked like a toddler across teacher's knee, her highly sought after, though never given up charms, bared for all the boys to see as she wriggles across teacher's knee.

* (when his finger brushed "my" bum hole...)

Imagine if this is what happens to her if she is ten minutes late for your massage! First the punishment, which includes an incredibly humiliating diaper position dust-binning, followed by a  good long groping to make sure she is hot and horny. Only then will come her massage. The full 60 minutes despite her lateness.  The massage will be "straight", and fully draped, much to her frustration. She will moan and wriggle and hump the table as his hands get close, but she will be allowed no satisfaction this time. Maybe next time, assuming she can manage to arrive on time.

A very severe tits out, bare bummed, paddling. She will not repeat this mistake again!

I used to read Archie comics! I always used to imagine myself as Betty...

Thank you to Rick at Spank Those Bottoms. Please head over for a visit!

Thursday, October 11

Letter from a Reader

I received a couple of letters from a reader named Darryl recounting some of his childhood spanking experiences. I, like many spankos I believe, am fascinated by this sort of thing. He allowed me to reproduce it here. I hope you enjoy reading it as I have. More of my comments on it below [in red].

Hi Julie,

I apologize for the length of what follows.  I got carried away.  Don’t feel that you have to read it if it bores you. [Heaven's no!]

Overview of Spanking in Our House

There were five kids: I had a brother and three sisters.  I think sibling rivalry was intense because we were closely grouped in age.  We all got spanked from early childhood to the verge of adolescence, but I believe my brother and I got it much worse than my sisters, either because my parents thought girls should be treated more gently or because the behaviour of boys actually merits harsher and more regular discipline. [who cares about yucky boys anyways ;-)]

My father worked long hours away from home, so my mother handled most of the discipline.  Most spankings consisted of a few quick smacks to the seat of the pants, when she was breaking up sibling squabbles, for example.  Sometimes she used her hand, but more often a large wooden spoon. If she was angrier she would use a doubled up strap.  Sometimes, if we were in more serious trouble, she would spank us more formally, over the knee, sometimes baring our bottoms. [Nothing less than you deserved, I'm sure, Darryl]

In the worst case, my mother would say, “Wait until your father gets home.”  That threat was mainly directed at us boys, as my mother usually handled the girls herself. Waiting for our father to get home was frightening because we knew it meant a harsh strapping with his belt, usually with our pants down. [Yes!] The belt hurt terribly even when he didn’t bare our bums, so I’m not sure why he added that humiliation of to a punishment that was already painful and humiliating.  I suppose it indicated different degrees of displeasure.

My brother and I would make a dash for our rooms when my father took off his belt.  That wasn’t to escape punishment but to try to have some degree of privacy.  If he caught hold of us before we escaped, however, he might haul our pants down on the spot, which meant our sisters could see.  Even if we made it to our rooms, my father wouldn’t close the door when he came in, so I always felt terribly exposed.  Additionally, our house was one of the main places where kids from the neighbourhood came to play or hang out, so I always feared that my sisters’ friends might see or hear. [I would have taken every opportunity to be over there!]

On one occasion when I was 6 or 7, one of my sisters came into the kitchen with some friends just as my father had hauled my pants down.  Instead of retreating they made their way silently around the perimeter of the kitchen on the way to the basement rec room as my father strapped me. [watching your bare bum intently]

Gender Inequality in Spankings

I don’t know how my sisters feel about it, but I’m sure spanking was way more humiliating for us boys.  I don’t think I ever saw one of my sisters get it from my dad the way my brother and I did. I think part of it may also have been a simple consequence of wardrobe differences between boys and girls.

If one of the girls got an over-the-knee spanking wearing a skirt, dress, or nightgown, the garment would be flipped out and they would get it on their panties.  The may have been a concession to female modesty.  But maybe it was purely practical. Panties are skin tight and thin, so they don’t offer any insulation from a spanking. Because boys underpants are looser, they would often come down together with our pants.  Or if we were wearing pyjamas, those pyjama bottoms with elastic waistbands would come down quickly and easily and there would be nothing underneath.

My Earliest Spanking Memory

I just realized that the first spanking I remember distinctly was actually a play spanking.  I must have been spanked earlier because the game would not have made sense otherwise, but I don’t have any clear memory of any specific earlier spankings.

Because there were five kids close together in age, we had baths in pairs when we were small.  Usually, I had my bath with my brother, but in this instance I was in the bath with my sister who was a year older.  I don’t think I could have been more than 4 because I don’t think my mother would have put my sister in the tub with me if she was more than 5 or so.  I say that because I had a fully developed sense of shame about nudity, even around my sisters, by the time I started school.

My mother had left us in the tub together, while she went to get my younger sisters settled for the night.  My sister suggested that we should play a game where she would be “the mother fish” and I would be “the baby fish”.  I asked her how to play, and she said we should pretend that I had been “a bad fish”, so she had to spank me.  She sat sideways in the tub with her legs crossed and got me to float into position across her lap, face down.   (Okay, I know that fish have neither bums nor hands, but being in the water was enough for it to make sense to us).  Then she gave me a play spanking, her hand loudly smacking my wet bum.  I recall she told me that “all the fish in the school were watching.”  (I suppose she got the school idea from the expression, “a school of fish”).   [Awwww!]

I found the game extremely exciting, and I began to squirm across her lap, discovering that the friction against the skin of her thighs was very pleasurable. After the spanking, she was amused to see that my penis had become erect, a phenomenon that was mysterious to both of us.

Later, I continued the game on my own in bed, pulling my pyjama bottoms down and squirming against the smooth sheets, pretending that I was being spanked on my “bare bum” in front of the “fish school.”  I believe I discovered how to masturbate that night, and I connected those pleasurable sensations to the shame of being spanked. (I was actually able to have dry orgasms that way, as a little kid). [naughty naughty]

A F/fm Spanking

This memory may be a year or so later. My sister (the same one) and I picked a bunch of tulips from an elderly neighbour’s garden to make a bouquet for our mother. By the time we got home, my mother had a received a phone call from the angry woman who had spotted us as we left the garden. Our mother must have been mortified that her kids had ruined the neighbour’s tulip display, so serious punishment was called for.  I seem to recall that my sister tried to put the blame on me.  LOL  But my mother would have none of that.  She pulled a chair out from the kitchen table then took first my sister and then me over her lap for a dose of the folded belt on our bare bottoms.  Then she marched the two us, still puffy-eyed and sniffling from the spanking,  down the street to apologize to the neighbour. [Should have made you show her the damage, naughty tulip destroyers!]

I Get Spanked Outdoors

I must have been five or six.  We visited my grandparents’ farm during the summer, and I was fascinated by a mousetrap I found in the woodshed off the back of the kitchen. My mother and grandmother both told me to keep away from it.  The morning we left to go home, however, I stole the mousetrap.  I guess it didn’t fit into the pocket of my shorts, so I stuffed it down the front of my pants.  (I know.  Yuck!)  The first part of the car ride was uncomfortable because the corners of the mousetrap dug into me.

We stopped at a park with a large, crowded picnic area for lunch.  While we were at the picnic table, my mother noticed that I was uncomfortable trying to sit down, and I guess she noticed me trying to adjust the position of the mousetrap inside my pants. She asked me what I had in my pants.  I told her I had nothing.  When she came towards me to investigate, I tried to escape, but she caught me a few paces from the table.  She knelt down and unsnapped the front of my shorts.  As she began to lower my shorts, I struggled to stop her, partly to prevent her from finding the stolen trap, but also because I was embarrassed to have my pants pulled down in a crowded picnic area.

When she found the mousetrap, she was angry and disgusted, angry because I had disobeyed her command to not touch it and because I had stolen it from my grandparents, disgusted because it was, as she said, “dirty”.  Outdoor spankings were not unheard of, but usually an outdoor spanking would be on the seat of the pants.  I suppose, however, that since my mother was really angry and my pants were already half way down, she figured modesty be damned and yanked my pants and underwear the rest of the way down.  Then she wrestled me to a face down position across one knee and spanked me with her hand, scolding me in a loud, angry manner that must have attracted the attention of everyone at the surrounding tables.

When I returned to the table, my siblings had poker faces under the eyes of my parents. But they later teased me about getting spanked “on the bare bum” in front of lots of people, and they gleefully reported it to their friends when we got home. [Just punishment, appropriately meted out]

A Younger Sister Gets It

One of my sisters who was  perhaps 8 at the time had learned how to belch loudly, and she liked to amuse her friends and siblings with her skill.  My mother, however, warned her that it was a very bad habit to develop because she might forget herself and do it in an embarrassing situation.  My mother’s warning proved prophetic. Our church pastor, his wife, and their two sons were at our place for Sunday dinner.  Forgetting herself, my sister belched loudly at the table in the middle of supper.  There was a horrified silence.  Then my father quietly said that if she couldn’t behave in a proper manner at the table, she could go to her room.  She didn’t wait to be told twice.

After the main course, my mother began to clear the dishes, and my father excused himself from the table to go have a talk with my sister.  After an expectant silence, we could hear the sound of a spanking.  A few minutes later, my sister returned to the table, red-faced and teary-eyed, and apologized to our guests for her rudeness. [must have been terribly embarrassing for the poor dear]

My Worst Spanking Ever

This happened when I was 13 or 14.  The mother of my best friend caught my friend and me smoking in their attic. She was furious because of both the health and fire risks. She told my friend that he was in for severe punishment from his father, and then she sent me home, warning me that she was going to call my parents.

My mind raced the whole way of the short walk home.  I knew I was in big trouble because smoking would be a really big deal to my parents.  My father’s father had died of lung cancer a couple of years previously, and my father had warned us kids at that time that if he ever found out any of us had started smoking we “wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week.”  That was his stock phrase when he threatened harsh punishment.

[Wow - what a walk home, knowing that you had a severe belt whipping on the bare coming...]

It was Saturday afternoon, and my father often worked Saturdays, so I was hopeful he wouldn’t be home.  In that case, my mother would have received the phone call, and maybe I would be able to persuade her not to tell my father.  As I rounded the corner and turned up our street, I could see my father’s car in the driveway.  Shit! [Now you're 'gonna get it!]

I considered briefly turning around and not going home right away, but that would probably make things worse. And there was an additional consideration.  Two of my girl cousins, Cheryl and Nancy, were staying with us for a couple of weeks.  Cheryl was two years older than me, and Nancy was my age.  Getting punished while they were there would be beyond humiliating.  But maybe they, and at least a couple of my sisters, would be out for the afternoon, so it might be better to get this out of the way immediately. [A forlorn hope, I am imagining, ha ha!]

As I approached the house, I saw movement at the front window.  One of my younger sisters was looking out.  A second later my cousin Nancy appeared at the window, followed by my older sister.  Shit! Clearly my arrival was anticipated. [Did your tummy do a flip? Knowing they would hear, and most likely see, your bare bum belt whipping?]

I considered again running away, but that would only delay the inevitable. As I went up the driveway, I seized on another faint hope. I hadn’t actually been spanked for a while.  Maybe my parents considered I was too old for that now, especially with my cousins in the house. Girl cousins! [Not this time, my boy, Daddy promised you a severe whipping if he ever caught you smoking, does not sound as if your Daddy would go back on his word like that, girls or no girls.]

When I entered the back door in the kitchen, my father was waiting with his doubled up belt in hand.  I tried to stammer an excuse or an apology, but he was clearly intent on spanking first talking later. Three inside doors opened into our kitchen.  I tried to make a dash for the closest one.  If I could at least make it to my room…

But my father caught my upper arm in a crushing grip and yanked me into the centre of the kitchen. He set the belt on the table and yanked hard on the back of my pants.  The snap of my jeans popped open.  He yanked again.  The zipper came open from the force and my jeans and underwear came part way down my hips.  “No, please, not…”  One more hard yank bared me from the waist to mid thigh, hobbling me so that I couldn’t escape even if I broke free.  The belt bit into me again and again, raising welts on my bum, my hips, the top of my thighs.  I couldn’t see clearly for the tears in my eyes, but I was vaguely aware of being watched from outside the kitchen doors. 

When my father finally let go, I started for the door to the back stairs, pulling my pants up as I tried to run. The belt lashed me a couple more times on the way.  I passed my older sister sitting on the stairs.  Through my tears it looked to me like she was frightened.

When I got to my room, I closed the door, threw myself face down on the bed and cried into my pillow. At first I cried mainly from the pain.  Then I cried from the humiliation.  How much had my cousins seen?  Had they watched?  How could I face them again? [They saw everything, from your pants coming down, to your private parts, to your bare bum, to your whipping, to your tears. No way would they have not.]

I wished I could skip supper that night, but I had to eat at the table with everyone. Usually there was animated conversation at our supper table, but everyone was quiet and subdued.  I was too embarrassed to look anyone in the eyes.  I think my sisters and my cousins may have had pity for me. I’m not sure.  They were all nice to me for a while. But a couple of days later my older sister made my cousins giggle by asking me in a gently teasing way whether I wanted a cigarette.  

I would say that was an emotionally scarring experience. But miraculously, I somehow turned it into a source of erotic pleasure as my cousins became characters in my masturbatory spanking fantasies. [Of course you did, you're a spanko, like the rest of us!]
That was the last time I was spanked by my parents. I theorize that my mother empathized with the extremity of my humiliation and told my father that he had gone too far, so they agreed to use more age appropriate punishments in the future. [Awww!]

Embarrassed by Masturbation

We lived in an old house where all the doors had large keyholes.  You could actually see into rooms through the keyholes, even when the key was in the door.  If you wanted a guarantee of privacy, you needed to hang something on the inside doorknob to block the keyhole.   As an adolescent, I used to masturbate in the bathroom sometimes, since it had a lockable door.  One day I was doing that, but I had forgotten to hang something on the doorknob.  My sister who was a year younger peeked through the keyhole and saw me jerking off to the women's underwear section of the Sears Catalogue. You can perhaps imagine my horror when I heard her burst out laughing behind the door and realized she had seen me.

To my intense humiliation, she told everyone what she had seen: my other sisters, her girlfriends, even my mother.  My mother scolded my sister for invading my privacy, and she tried to console me by explaining that what I had done was "normal" for teenaged boys, but the humiliation was intense and enduring.  For a long time my sisters and their friends teased me. [So humiliating!]

My Big Crush

I was aware that all three of my sisters were good looking and popular with boys.  They were sexually quite precocious, whereas I was a shy, late bloomer. Thus, my sisters all had boyfriends before I ever had a girlfriend. 

One day when I was about 17, I was home alone with my 15 year old sister and her really hot friend.  I had a real crush on her, so I tried to sort of hang out with my sister when she was there, but I felt invisible to her.  I was quite excited to be home with just my sister and her, and I was hoping to make some kind of impression. However, my sister and she invited a couple of "hot guys" (their words) to come over.  I was embarrassed and extremely jealous when the two couples started kissing right in front of me, and the guys ran their hands down over the girls butts.

The guy with my sister must have noticed the look on my face, so he said to me, "Hey, you should invite a girl over."  I felt really self-conscious as all four of them looked at me, and I stammered some excuse about the girls I knew living too far away and not having a car.  But my sister said, in a very matter of fact voice, "D doesn't have a girlfriend.  He's too shy."

My sister didn't say that in a mean way.  She was just stating a fact as she saw it, that when it came to sexual things, her "big brother" wasn't very mature.  Most embarrassing was that for a moment her friend, who never seemed even to notice me, really looked at me, and I felt as though she could see right through me and knew how much I longed to touch her the way the other guy was touching her.

[A little beta cuck in the making - so cute!] 

My Older Sister Is Humbled

My sister was perhaps 15 or 16 when this happened.  She was out in the driveway, flirting with three guys who had come over in one of their parent’s cars.  It was getting late, so my mother called her to come inside. A few minutes later, my mother called her again.  When she still hadn’t come in after a few more minutes, my father went to the door and told her gruffly to get in the house.  “Now!” 

When she still didn’t come in, my younger sisters and I exchanged amazed glances, thinking her crazy to ignore that last warning?  “Boy crazy,” one of my younger sisters opined. I should mention that my other siblings and I found our older sister rather annoying at that point in life because she had become condescending towards us. “You’re so immature,” she would say to us, as if SHE was an adult.

Suddenly my father said, “That’s enough.”  He strode out the kitchen door, sliding his belt out its loops.  I couldn’t believe it!  Was he going to use his belt on her?  Outdoors?  In front of the boys with whom she was flirting?  Would he bare her bottom as he had mine? [Dream on!]

The three boys saw my father coming before my sister did.  They scrambled to get in the car and make a getaway.  I saw my father say something to my sister and point to the house.  My sister hurried towards the house, followed by my father.  My sister came in the door crying and made a dash for her room. 

When my father came in, I expected him to follow her to her room to complete the punishment. But he put his belt back on and left it to my mother to go talk to my sister. He hadn’t actually hit her, but I guess he figured the fear and embarrassment had been punishment enough.  He was probably right.

Neighbourhood Spanking

We were aware that friends and other neighbourhood kids got spanked too.  That was the peak of the baby boom, so there were lots of kids in the neighbourhood, and on hot summer evenings windows would be open and you would sometimes hear kids “getting it.”  Or their siblings might blab, so spankings often had a public aspect, even when done in the “privacy” of the home.

My most distinct memory involves the neighbours two doors up the street from us. There were three daughters in the family, one of whom was a close friend of my older sister. It was neighbourhood knowledge that the girls’ mother was a strict disciplinarian. Most fascinating to me was that she kept an honest-to-God spanking paddle on a hook on the kitchen wall.  I saw it a couple of times, and I remember thinking how embarrassing it would be to have on object whose sole purpose was to paddle your bum hanging on the kitchen wall for all to see.  I remarked on it to my sister, and she told me that her friend and her two sisters got frequent bare bottomed paddlings over their mother’s knee.  She even claimed to have seen her friend Penny get it once.  (Something tells me that my sister shared my fascination with spanking). [Cute that there's a family tie there - if she were to read this, she would recognize herself for sure. Wonder if she would spank you for fun?]

On one memorable occasion, Penny was playing in the yard of our house with a bunch of other kids. Suddenly Penny’s angry looking mom came striding into our yard carrying the paddle.  She scolded Penny for leaving the house without finishing her chores.  Penny pleaded with her mom not to spank her and promised to go home and finish her work, but her mother spun her around and gave several smacks on the seat of her shorts.  She then proceeded to paddle her bottom all the way home. To add to the excitement of the event, my sister pointed out to everyone that Penny would most certainly be getting it “on the bare” at home.

I have a fascination with spanking paddles to this day, and I have a wonderfully humiliating fantasy about my wife hanging a spanking paddle on the kitchen wall for guests to see. [We have a riding crop hanging in plain view in our home gym...]

School Spankings

Corporal punishment was still common throughout my elementary school years. The standard method was hand strapping, but I witnessed 3 spankings. I’ll describe two of them that had a huge impact on my erotic imagination.

The first was in grade one. Our teacher was a very strict elderly woman.  I was actually afraid of her scolding alone.  A boy named Larry was always getting in trouble for getting out of his seat and behaving in a distracted manner.  Today, he would be diagnosed with ADHD, but to our teacher he was a “naughty, disobedient boy.” 

One day after she had warned him a couple of times in short order to “behave”, she got fed up and ordered him to come to the front of the room.  When she pulled the chair out from behind her desk and placed it in a central spot, I think my heart skipped a beat.  Surely she wasn’t going to…?  Not in front of the whole class?

Maybe it was my imagination, but I believe a ripple of excitement ran through the class as she sat down and pulled Larry face down over her lap.  Some of the girls giggled as she proceeded to spank him on the seat of his pants with her hand. I felt sorry for Larry because I imagined how intensely embarrassed I would be in his place, but I was excited too.  Most memorable for me was the expression on the face of Susan, the pretty girl at the desk next to mine. She put her hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle, and the expression on her face showed both amusement and excitement.  I’m certain she got erotic pleasure from Larry’s humiliation, though I had no word for that feeling back then. [Oh yes!]

I suppose that to anyone who didn’t have innate sadomasochistic tendencies, the spanking was unremarkable. It didn’t last long and it probably didn’t hurt that much, though Larry had a very red face when he returned to his desk.  But to me it was huge, as it became a focal point of my childhood masturbation fantasies.  Of course, I imagined myself in Larry’s place, and I pushed the humiliation further, imagining the teacher baring my bum for the spanking, to the amusement and delight of my classmates, especially Susan. In its final transformation, I imagined Susan taking great pleasure in baring my bum and spanking me herself.  I had a major schoolboy crush on Susan, but I was shy and embarrassed in her presence at school because of what I imagined at night. [As well you should have been!]

The second one took place when I was in the grade four side of a split grade four and five class.  Miss Baker was the kind of teacher kids wanted to please and feared to displease.  I imagine I wasn’t the only boy in the class to have a schoolboy crush on her because she was beautiful, with a pretty face and a shapely, compact body which she showed off to amazing effect in tight fitting skirts and high heels. She could reward us with nothing more than a smile, but she also had a quick temper.  Her face would actually become red and her gaze fierce when she was displeased, and a sharp rebuke from her stung like a lash.  I don’t think she ever used the strap because she didn’t need it to control us.

One day, however, she was working with the grade five kids and had given us grade four kids some work to do independently.  My friend Bill in the desk next to mine was so entranced by a book he was reading that he kept going back to reading the book instead of doing the assigned work.  Miss Baker told him a couple of times to put the book away and do the work.  But Bill pushed his luck, and tried hiding the book on his lap under his desk to read.  He was so entranced that he didn’t notice when Miss Baker stopped talking to the grade five group and walked right up to his desk.

She got Bill’s attention by smacking the top of his desk with her hand. She scolded him fiercely and then told him to stand up.  I thought, “That’s it: she’s going to use the strap now.”  Instead, she ordered Bill to bend over with his elbows on the desk.  When Bill looked confused, she repeated the order in an icy voice.   I think people’s jaws dropped in amazement, and we all exchanged excited glances. Teachers didn’t spank big kids, did they?  But Miss Baker did exactly that, her red nail polish glinting as she smacked the seat of Bill’s pants several times with her hand.

Once again the expressions on the faces of some of the girls watching affected me as powerfully as the spanking itself: their undisguised amusement and excitement, an excitement that by that age I was beginning to understand as sexual.  One of those girls was a friend of my older sister who sometimes came to our house.

I masturbated intensely that night, reliving the scene in memory, with myself in Bill’s place.  My schoolboy crush on Miss Baker intensified.  Not only was she beautiful, she now seemed dangerous in a way that aroused me terribly. 

Not long after that, I did something stupid that incurred her displeasure.  She gave me an embarrassing public scolding and told me I should stay after school.  You can imagine what I was afraid she might do.  I also thought my classmates might be thinking the same thing.

She didn’t spank me, of course.  When I was alone in class with her, I apologized contritely, feeling terrible about having displeased her.  I may actually have been on verge of tears.  She told me in a firm but gentle voice that my misbehaviour had surprised her because she knew I was “a good boy”, and she made me promise not to repeat the offending behaviour. Then she forgave me and let me go.

That little drama of guilt, contrition, and forgiveness was deeply emotional to me. It felt so terrible to be out of her favour and wonderful to regain it. When I relived that scene in memory, however, I added another step between contrition and forgiveness:  strict but loving punishment, over her knee with my pants down. [Should have been!]

There you have it, Julie, the childhood experiences contributing to the making of a submissive, male masochist. [Thanks!]
There now, weren't those just the cutest thing???

As I'm reading these, I definitely put myself in the place of one of Darryl's sisters, excitedly watching my big brother have his pants lowered for a belt whipping from Daddy. I imagine how wet I would get watching Darryl screech in pain as the big belt connects repeatedly with his bared, increasingly reddening backside. His bumhole winking at me as he receives his strapping. The glimpses of his penis and testicles as he writhes in pain.

I would invite my friend over and we would tease Darryl about his spankings, about how I caught him masturbating through the keyhole, and about his big crush on my friend. With her help, I would cajole him into taking a bare naked paddling across each of our knees. When he gets hard, we would stand him up and laugh at his erection. We'd then make him masturbate it to completion in front of us, while we watch. Then back across our sexy knees to finish up those paddlings. I'd tell him that from now on he was not allowed to masturbate unless he comes to me first and asks my permission. If he obeyed me in that, and everything else, for the next three months, I'd let my friend give him a blowjob (my friend would be eagerly nodding, yes, yes, yes - I spank her also!).

Ha ha!

Thursday, September 20


The other day a commenter asked me "why?". Why does spanking and humiliation turn us on? I thought I'd take a blog post to post my theories and would be very interested in reading your thoughts as well.

This is how he phrased it (the comment was on my Christian Domestic Discipline post). My comment response in red.
I think we all kinda react to cornertime differently. What’s you’re take on it Miss Julie? You’ve been there... How does it make you feel ? Humiliated? Ashamed? I already know what it will cause your most sensitive areas to do, so you don’t have to answer that part ;)

Yes, all of those things! Very humiliating to be "put in your place" like that. Very visceral. Very childish. I do get wet though, as you allude to!

Miss Julie, have you ever been able to figure why there is a direct nexus between humiliation and you getting wet ? Or anyone getting wet for that matter ? Not a rhetorical question. I’m asking because I don’t know.
I then provided my theories which I shall restate and elaborate on further in this post, and then there was some post-comment email followup which was... titilating...
Thank you for the posts and re-posts regarding the use of humiliation in scenes Miss Julie. I knew you’d be just as curious as I am about the topic. I could never quite understand or explain it either.

I’ve had the pleasure of being able to “play” with some sensational women in my day and bore witness to their faces becoming as red as their bare bums when faced with healthy doses of humiliation.

The power suit, power heels and power strut, corporate executive...Being made to wear a yellow gingham dress and knee socks, cute little Mary Janes with bows and pigtails. Made to stand in the corner with her bare bum on display...I haven’t even touched her yet...

But she’s dreading the moment I come up behind her for a “wet check”. She already knows the insides of her thighs are completely soaked and can’t explain why. Her current predicament is so embarrassing and humiliating for an adult woman...but her naughty girl parts won’t lie...

I’ve seen it happen without fail, multiple times over. That’s why I asked you Miss Julie...I don’t get it...but I love the shameful, involuntary reaction of a naughty girl. ;)
As I mentioned... titilating! I thought I would reply in kind.
Oh dear! "Wet check"
Do you think we are just to be bent over and have your large manly hands swipe themselves over our pussies for our "wet checks?"
No doubt a wet-handed slap to our bottoms afterwards as well!
He responded with assurances that it goes both ways...
Not at all Miss. I’ve been in the corner with “chastity tears” before too...and subjected to a “wet check”...

But the nexus between humiliation and shameful, involuntary arousal? Anything? Your idea to blog about it might be a good one Miss?

Maybe speak to your own experience in the corner and davids as well? Involuntary shame of wetness?
So yes, it is undeniable that there is a certain portion of the population, both male and female, for whom a certain type of humiliation is indeed very sexy and can promote a noticeable physical response.

In the case of my husband, the other day I had him standing facing the wall with his spanked bum on display and a dildo up his butt while three other women and I discussed my theories of male training. As I discovered subsequently, this caused a real "leakage" situation that even went so far as to create sticky strands dripping out of his cocktip and multiple drops of pre-cum on my hardwood floor. This display was put on full view, of course, discussed and commented on at length, to allow for a full and complete shaming (see Husband Spanked in front of Feminist Lesbians - part 5).

The only other major "leakage" incident was immediately after he had received a legit massage from his regular massage therapist. In his post-massage relaxation, after his therapist had left the room, he touched himself a little (ostensibly thinking about me - do we believe him?), and his penis began spontaneously leaking pre-cum which he could not stop. While he was able to contain most of it and clean it up with tissues, he inadvertently wound up leaving a small stain on the sheet which was discovered after he left, and he was confronted with it at his next massage. This entire incident was incredibly humiliating for him, especially the gentle "talking to" he received from his massage therapist. I documented it (and his consequences) in Husband Diapered for Real Punishment. So I cannot imagine anything much more humiliating then that, but despite that it aroused him terrifically.

In general, david is very turned on by humiliation of any sort by women (but not at all by men). Anything a bit degrading makes his cock hard. This is especially true if we involve other women, especially in more vanilla circumstances where his humiliation is absolutely maximized. We do a lot of humiliation play as a result of this fetish of his.

For my part, I can totally understand, as I too find it to be be very sexy to be put in this type of a humiliating position. But for me, it can be either men or women on top of me, which I think reflects my bi-sexuality. There is a certain gut-wrenching, abject, butterflies in tummy, humiliation that really just turns my crank. This is especially the case if I am to be spanked, or if I am to be used sexually in degrading ways.

I was extremely aroused the first time I was placed in the corner by my friend Tracy. I was just beginning to really explore my submissive side. She and I (and her husband as it worked out) had a series of several extremely intense sessions. Tracy was assisted in her first session with me – where I was to be severely paddled by her – by a letter from my "Paddle Daddy" who made the paddle expressly to be used on my butt (This was all documented in Julie Paddled!). The letter suggested a full stripping, a "before" picture, and then ten minutes facing the wall in timeout before my paddling. After that, an "after picture" holding the instrument of my correction. Here they are (BLUSH!),

That's one well-paddled blogger!

And here is an excerpt from that post, how I captured my thoughts at the time.
I got a little bored standing there. And I started thinking about what had gone on up to then, and what was yet to come. And standing there in abject humiliation... so... My hands were down and crossed in front of me... so... I rubbed my pussy. Just a bit... I guess that's why an experienced Dom makes a girl put her hands on her head in timeout. So I pushed my nose more into the wall, and i stuck my butt out, and i rubbed my clit, and i sort of gyrated my butt a bit (yes.. on purpose... I'm a brat, aren't I???)

"Are you... Are you... playing with yourself?" she asked in mock outrage.

"yes ma'am.." i said in a meek voice.

"You do not play with yourself while in timeout, missy! Get those hands to your sides, where I can see them!"

"Ohhhhh..." I said, sounding disappointed.

"You're finding this sexual, are you?" she asked.

Just the way she asked that, it was like a rhetorical question. I mean, Duh!

"We'll see how sexy it is when I start using that paddle on your butt!"


"Six more minutes..."
"Three more minutes..."
"One more minute..."

"Ok. Times up. Get over here."

Phew! So that's what a timeout is like? And that was only ten minutes! Felt like a very long time to be cooling my jets. But towards the end I sort of sunk into it and the time went faster. There is NO preserving any sense of dignity when you are bare assed naked in the living room (I mean, totally bare: ass, tits, pussy, tummy, back, legs, ...) nose in the corner, waiting for your spanking!
That was my first "real" timeout. I was so embarrassed, and got so wet! But as bad as that was, it got sort of exponentially more humiliating when her husband got to witness it as well.

On my second session with Tracy, Julie's Belt Licking!, her husband was invited as well. Tracy had made me go out with her to the store and help her to select a belt to use on me. While there, she bought me a little onesey she thought was cute. When I had to bare my butt for her husband that first time it was soooo mortifying!

Afterwards, he got to watch as Tracy gave me a belt lickin' on my bare bum!

The third time it was a "schoolgirl" roleplay and they were my Mommy and my Daddy. This time her husband John would be allowed to SPANK and FUCK me!!!

Before we started, Tracy took some pics of me. She did a series of three increasingly humiliating ones WHILE HER HUSBAND WATCHED!!!!

As I wrote at the time in Schoolgirl Punishment - part 2,
First I was told to kneel on their Ottoman. They made me arch my back and stick my bottom out. Tracy came behind me and fidgeted with the hem of my skirt. Pulling it down, smoothing it. Patting my bottom on top of it. Her husband was watching the whole show. Then she stepped back and she took a photo.

I felt her hands again on the hem of my skirt, and then I felt it being lifted and draped across my back. She arranged it so that skin was showing both above and below my little red panties. She pushed down on my lower back and made me hold my arch. She stepped back and took another photo.

"Your panties are very pretty, Julie," said John. That made my heart flutter a bit. A handsome man I barely know pointing that out.

I knew what was coming next. Tracy gleefully announced it: "They are pretty, but it's time for those panties to come down, little missy!" she said.

Oh no! With my butt presented like this, I knew my pussy would be in plain view!!!! I am an exhibitionist, clearly, but it's still embarrassing, I can assure you. Maybe that's why I show myself off like this? Am I a shame slut?

Tracy pulled my panties down slowly, slowly, and then arranged them as a band around my thighs for another photo.

"Very Nice!" John said. Oh my gosh! At this point I was hyper-ventilating!

Yes, I knew I was in for a paddling. This was the perfect position for it. It's the perfect position for something else as well...

After the photo, Tracy came back to me. She gingerly pulled my panties back up and arranged them to cover my private parts completely. Her handling of me was exciting. The pussy show was over. For now.

I was relieved to no longer have to display my vagina for her husband's perverse amusement. Tracy had owned me with that panty lowering. She demonstrated that if it was her will that my pussy be displayed to her husband, it would be displayed to her husband!

She helped me to my feet. She looked at my face. She could see I was flustered and breathless. "You poor dear!" she said and she hugged me. "Did your little show for John excite you?" she asked with a laugh in her voice. "yes..." I whispered breathlessly in her ear.
It's so humiliating for an adult woman to be dressed like a schoolgirl and shown off like this, especially knowing that I was about to be SPANKED, bare bum, in front of and then by a strange man!!!

And here I was, over John's lap, spanked!

And believe me, his hand certainly did "stray"!

So yes, both my husband and I have experienced the sexiness of this kind of humiliation. But why?

Here is my theory. Please be kind to me. I have zero academic credentials in any of this and am TOTALLY speculating. Have not even read anything about it. I would really enjoy a followup discussion in the comments section where you criticize my view and propose some of your own.

For my part, I think it starts with evolution and genetics. A successful mating strategy for a woman was to appear meek and submissive and sexually available towards the strongest, most dominant man she could attract: a man who stood a good chance of protecting her and her offspring. The successful strategy for the man was to display dominance over the most fit woman he could attract.

Women who became sexually excited by being put in these submissive situations by a dominant man, who enjoyed it at some level, and who lubricated freely, were more successful at breeding, and those genes spread. Likewise for men with their dominant streak. If they got turned on by being dominant, they would want to do it more often, their cocks would be stiffer, and their ejaculations quicker and more copious. Obvious breeding advantages.

But genes aren't so smart. There is a lot of spillover. So, for example, if a woman is dominant towards me it sort of accidentally has the same effect.

Being humiliated is to accept your submission in some sense. And women are wired to be sexually turned on as a result. Of course, there are many environmental factors that mitigate and control this, and our brains can resist our drives very successfully if the right conditions do not line up (e.g., an obnoxious guy I would definitely NOT want to mate with!).

But then how to explain male submission and female dominance?

I think it is actually similar. Because the male and female genes get all mixed up with one another over time, I think that basic drive to be submissive and dominant exists in both sexes. The Yin and the Yang as it were.

For a man, who is expected to be dominant in society, he must suppress these opposite urges. But the more we suppress something like that, the more it wants to come out and play, especially as these particular urges are tied to our sexuality. This also explains why if a man is heterosexual, being dominated and humiliated by a woman is particularly important, as those two things get so tied up together in their genes.

For a woman, it is really amazing to be able to fully exert her dominant side. But I think that nowadays we are being called upon more and more to do that within society as it is, so it takes a special woman!

Anyways, those are my tow cents on the topic. What do you think?

Tuesday, September 11

Husband Soundly Strapped

I delivered a very severe strapping to my husband on Saturday. I enjoyed it immensely.

He was reading the newspaper and sipping his coffee in the kitchen, I came downstairs with the strap in hand. I put it down in front of him and said with a cheerful attitude and a smile, "I think you need some discipline today."

"Why? What did I do???" he asked me.

"Nothing at all," I answered. "I just feel like you're in need of some disciplinary attention from your wife today. Don't you agree?"

"yes ma'am," he responded. So docile.

I handed him the strap. "As soon as you're finished with your coffee," I said, "get the leather conditioner out and give that strap a good going over. I want it nice and moist and supple for your ass and thighs. You get it right after you're done, and it's going to be a scorcher, so be prepared."

"yes ma'am."

"After your spanking, we're going for a nice long bike ride. About 50k today I think."

"Ohhhh..." he said, concerned about the state of his hindquarters on that bicycle. He has a nice hard seat on that racing bike, and I would be sure to get right in there where the contact was greatest. Poor baby.

I left him and went about my business. I was doing some low-carb baking (I make a terrific bread-like thing from mainly flax seeds) so I could keep an eye on him from the kitchen.

After his coffee he went upstairs and quickly pulled on his jeans and a T-shirt. He went outside to the garage (where he keeps the leather conditioner that he uses on the car seats), and brought it back in. He laid out some newspaper and rags at the kitchen work area. He put the strap and the leather conditioner down and sat in front of it.

The leather conditioner is a thick cream-coloured lotion. The directions say,
"Rub Leather Care Cream Conditioner into the leather with your bare hands as you would skin lotion. A cloth absorbs too much and wastes product. Allow to penetrate for several minutes. Buff dry with a soft, clean cloth."
He squirted out the thick cream onto his fingers and began massaging it into the strap. It's a twin-tailed doubled-up leather tawse that's 18" long, 1½" wide, and just under ½" thick (the doubled layers together). It feels heavy in the hand, and is known to be capable of seriously tearing up my husband's hindquarters.

"You get that nice and moist and supple, now," I called out to him cheerily as he massaged the cream in with his fingers. "Nothing but the best for my husband's ass!"

He groaned in response. He was looking a bit nervous. I wondered what was going through his head as he fondled that heavy leather strap knowing that it would soon be used to sizzle his rump and literally bring him to tears like a big baby. The weight of the strap. It getting more and more supple and heavier with the moisture as he worked. Shinier. Bringing out the smell of the leather.

He called over to me to let me know it was done. I walked over to him and picked up the strap. It looked cleaner and shinier than it had been before. I held it up to my nose and sniffed it along its length. I touched it, it felt more supple in my hands. The handle end felt a bit greasy though.

"Hold out your left palm," I told him. He did so. I choked down on the strap a bit. I laid the tips on his outstretched palm. I brought it down gently once, then twice, then three times, measuring the distance and speed I would need. I let it rest in his palm for a couple of seconds. Then I brought it up and brought it back down hard onto his open palm. He shrieked in pain and snatched his hand away squeezing it between his legs. "Other hand," I said. He held out his other hand very reluctantly and grimaced as he held it there.

I lined it up again, took a couple of practise taps, and then brought it up and straight back down with a CRACK onto his open palm. He again cried out and clutched his hand between his legs.

I placed the tawse back down on the table and said, "give it two more applications. No more on the handle end."

"yes ma'am," he said and got back to work using his sore hands. I noticed they were shaking a bit as he applied the cream a second time.

"You'll have two more coming to each palm after your done, and then we'll start in on your backside," I told him as I went back to my baking. I wanted him to get to know the strap intimately as his object of correction. The initial hand strapping focused his mind.

Why, really, was I doing this?

I know that he needs my undivided attention from time to time, and it had been too long since his last seriously severe spanking. The last one he got was almost two months ago in front of my sister and her two friends, and while it was a decent hairbrushing, it was over quickly, and I held back considerably for fear of spooking our guests. It was nowhere near his limits, but the humiliation factor and novelty certainly made up for it. In fact, the most recent good spanking since then was delivered to my butt, with my sister again involved, and David took a Dommy role in that. So tables definitely needed turning, and my man needed some quality alone time with his wife for a good looking after.

As well, it's not everyday he gets a really hard strapping. In fact, my most popular blog post is Beating your man properly, with over 120,000 page views to-date (next highest is only 80,000).

But it's been a dog's age since I've really given him a proper seeing to, and he really needs it from time to time. He simultaneously does not want yet craves these events. I need to keep him satisfied. And I thought some alone time with me, where we could rekindle and reinforce our 1-1 disciplinary relationship, was sorely needed.

So that was why I was whistling away happily in the kitchen doing my baking while he worked away at moisturising and conditioning the heavy leather spanking strap.

A little while later he came up to me and said, "I think it's pretty good now," and handed me my strap. I ran it through my fingers. It had a shiny glean and was definitely even heavier and more supple than before. I slapped it against my own palm, "this is going to really hurt," I told him. He looked nervous and worried, but I could see he had a hard-on under his jeans. "Go upstairs, undress, and sit quietly on the side of the bed and wait for me. No screens. You wait quietly there for me and think about what's coming."

I took my time. I wanted to give him plenty of time to get naked, use the toilet, and sit quietly on the side of the bed and contemplate, awaiting my footsteps up the stairs. He needed to really think about and focus on what was coming his way.

When I believed the time was right, I went up the stairs and stepped into the room holding the tawse. He was sitting there bare naked by the side of the bed. His back was hunched and his hands were folded over his crotch.

I made him move his hands. He had a raging erection. I tickled his penis with the end of the strap and teased him about his erection, "you're obviously excited to get your strapping," I told him. "I'd have thought you'd have been more scared than excited," I said as I softly caressed the fronts of his thighs and his genitals with the strap.

"Do you want a warm-up before your strapping?" I asked him.

"yes please, ma'am," he said.

I tossed the strap down on the floor, exactly underneath where I intended his head to be. I reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out a hairbrush. I indicated that he should stand. I then took his place seated on the side of the bed and brought him over my knee. He could definitely see the strap lying there on the carpet, poised and ready.

I put the hairbrush aside and started in with my hand. I could feel his hard erection poking into me. That's nice, that's the way I like him.

I thoroughly covered his butt all over and down the backs of his thighs as well. By the time I was done, he was a uniform pink colour all over his butt and thighs.

I then picked up the hairbrush. I continued where I left off with my hand, going easy on him at first but then increasing the intensity.

This created some mild distress in him. I could tell by his wriggles and ouches. Again I covered his butt and high thighs uniformly, bringing them up evenly from a hot pink to a light red. As I was finishing him up, he looked like he had a sunburn on his butt and legs.

I kept him across my lap, staring at the strap, fondled his ass and genitals, and told him, "ask me for your strapping, now."

"Please, ma'am," he said, "would you please give me my strapping."

"Ask for it to be a very, very hard strapping," I said.

"Ohhhh... please ma'am, would you please give me a very, very hard strapping."

Ahhhh! Music to my ears. Ask and he shall receive.

"Ask me to please not spare your thighs," I continued. I was just teasing him now. My cat to his mouse.

"ohhh no... ohhh... oh please strap my butt and my thighs, ma'am."

"Until they're both bruised and blistered?" I asked. I wasn't sure how much I would actually blister him, but light bruising at least was sorta' a given.

"yes ma'am, until they're bruised and blistered, badly," he said submissively. He added the "badly" part himself. Yumm!

"Shall I strap your palms first, like I promised downstairs?" I asked him.

"No thank you Ma'am, that's ok, really..." Poor baby. He was not just kidding around.

"Oh, baby, that's the wrong answer," I told him, sounding very disappointed in him. "Now I'm going to have to double it. Come on," I said, swatting his butt, "stand up and take your medicine."

He stood up. He is completely naked and I am completely clothed. "Hold out your right hand," I told him. He did so, holding out his palm for punishment like a naughty schoolgirl, bracing himself for the worst.

"Don't move out of position or I add extras," I warned him. I lined up the strap and brought it down with a crack onto the center of his palm. He cried out a little and grimaced in pain. His left hand shot out to support his right at the wrist, steadying it so that he would not be as tempted to move it. That was two in total to that palm. I gave him four more before I was done. He was crying out and his palm was literally shaking before the last stroke, but he took it bravely.

"Other hand," I told him, giving him no respite. I could see him gritting his teeth and the tears starting to form in his eyes. But he held out his other palm for me.

I started in on the other palm. After even the very first he cried out again and started shaking anew. If you've never experienced this type of punishment, it is excruciating.

Remember, he is standing there completely nude, holding out his palm for me. There is sweat rolling down his body and his knees are literally shaking. His penis has gone soft many strokes ago. It just dangles there and jiggles impotently as I resume his palm smacking. I finish off the complete set of six to that palm. As soon as I am done he pulls back his hands and buries them into his underarms, squeezing them tight. This must be very instinctual.

"Hands out," I tell him.

"noooooo," he wails, fearing more. But he pulls both hands out and presents them to me palm up. His palms are definitely red!

I get a short length of nylon rope out from the bedside drawer (I mean, who doesn't have short lengths of nylon rope in their bedroom drawers?). I have him turn his hands so his palms are facing inwards and I quickly and expertly bind his wrists together in front of him. I can do it so that he definitely will not break away, but it's not so tight as to cut off his circulation or cause (undue) discomfort.

"Kneel," I tell him. He obeys. I go back into the bedside drawer and pull out his ball gag and approach him with it.

"I'm going to tie you up and gag you, sweetheart, so you won't be tempted to squirm away, cover up, or cry out for mercy. You have no say," I added.

"yes ma'am," he said.

"And there you went and said something," I said with a smile, "that's why you're getting the gag. You have no say." With that, I fastened the ball gag into his mouth and around the back of his head tightly. You need to tighten it more than you think because it will slip a bit and his mouth will relax over time and open wider, and you need it to still be snug once that happens. I tightened it down a little extra for his impertinence.

The ball gag can be quite a challenge during an intense strapping. First of all, it makes it more difficult to breathe. His breathing is confined mostly to his nose, especially as he starts to salivate freely, and that can induce a little panic. As well, he is acutely aware that he cannot make himself understood (but if he starts blurting "RED RED" I can still hear that through his gag, we tested that a long time ago). So you need to be super sensitive as a top and understand your bottom's bodily reactions and be very experienced with them.
Public Service Announcement: Gagging and binding for a serious strapping is not recommended for beginners, or for couples who are new to one another!
I then piled three large pillows onto the middle of the bed near the left-hand side. I had him get up onto the bed and then drape himself over the pillows. I made him put his bound hands under the pillows so he was lying on top of them. I then got another short length of rope and used it to bind his ankles together.

Finally, I retrieved our many-holed belt out of the bedside drawer.

That went around his thighs, just above his knees. Before tightening it, first I tucked his junk well out of the way, then I tightened it down very hard so that it would not pop out for a reappearance at any time, and to keep him effectively immobile and completely controllable with my one free hand.

He was properly trussed up and ready for his whipping.

Mostly I don't bother binding and gagging him like this. I mean, he is as good as gold and does not get out of position no matter what anyways. But the bonds and the gag make it so that he literally can't. It renders him under my complete mercy, and he is acutely aware of this at a deep, visceral (not even intellectual) level. He will lie there and take it for as long and as hard as I choose to dish it out. A frightful thought as I am no shrinking violet with the strap and do have a definite sadistic streak where his (fully consensual) suffering really does turn me on something fierce. I always have to watch that, but today I was letting my inner sadist loose, baby!

Oh man. Did I ever give him a STRAPPING!

His time for warming up was over. Every stroke was designed to bring pain. If one was lighter than another, it was only to allow him a brief respite before the next crushing stroke of the strap. I didn't want to break him, I just wanted him at the very edges of his limits.

As usual, I confined the very hardest strokes to his "spank spots". In the photo below, that is the upper half of the indicated rectangle. On these strokes the tip always landed somewhere in there, and just above the crease. Wrap around into his crack was ok as his cheeks were tightly held together by the belt. I never wrap around to his flanks on these strokes. The upper indicated area is where God intended for the most extreme strokes of the strap to go. He has the most layers of fat and muscle protecting him, the skin is thick, but all the nerve endings are hanging out right out there near the surface to be punished and abused at my discretion.

The next hardest strokes were aimed at the lower half of the indicated rectangle, at the tops of his thighs just underneath the crease. This is a pretty decent area as well, though you do need to hold back somewhat as thetr are nerves in and around there that could be damaged if too brutal. Yet what is lost in force of the strike is more than made up for in impact to poor hubby. I also delivered other strokes more to his upper butt, and some wrap-around, and down his legs and even to his calves (avoiding his knees and ankles of course), but these were very light by comparison. No, the main strapping was his lower butt cheeks nearest the crease and the crack, but of course with lots of collateral damage to all his hindquarters.

What was his reaction? Well, he was already in considerable pain from the hand strapping, and being bound and gagged and bent over increased his discomfort further. The strap caused him to cry out in pain on practically every last stroke. Contrary to popular belief, the ball gag does not quiet him, it just makes it so that his words are unintelligible. So he made very inhuman sounding grunts and cries as he was strapped. And of course, the more he does of this, the more difficult it is for him to breathe freely. So from beginning to end it was a major struggle for him.

At the start of his strapping he reacted more, shaking his butt what little he could and screaming out more. The sweat was pouring down him, everywhere. His eyes were tearing. He smelled scared. As we proceeded past the first hundred he became more docile, more accepting of his fate. He moved less with each stroke and his sounds had less the quality of a scream, and more the quality of a pitiful sort of whelping, the sound I imagine a beaten dog would make. By the time I was done, maybe a couple of hundred total, his ass and thighs were well and truly marked and bruised. Epic.

What was my reaction? This is where I find I differ from many women, and have more in common with a professional Dominatrix such as Mistress Violet. I can literally enjoy his pain and take satisfaction from inflicting it. Many women cannot bring themselves to do this, and I certainly understand. Not me.

The first part is all intellectual. It is all about engineering the setup and the anticipation for him. I am playing a role. Even the first spankings were more along the lines of preparation, and I executed them well and competently to ensure his butt was warmed up for what was to come. The first real twinges of sadism emerged as I strapped his hands. I could tell he was in real pain. It excited me. Then it was back to being "professional" as I prepared him for his strapping.

Once he was all trussed up and ready to be whipped, and I brought the strap down on his ass for the first time, really really hard, and he screamed into his ball gag. Well I honestly wet my panties at that moment. You see, this is the difference. Do you truly enjoy doing this, or do you just do it because he wants it? david tells me I go a bit "glassy eyed" when I really get into beating him. I don't want to stop, I don't even want to give him any sort of a break; but I do, with some lighter strokes, because I know I need to in order to keep under his limits, but I don't want to.

Eventually I pull myself out of my trance. I notice his ass is a mess! I'm aching to give him more, but intellectually I know we are done. I feel sort of transcendent as I come back down to earth. I was in a complete "flow state".

After I stop, he is just continuously mewling into his ball gag. I untie the belt around his thighs. I pull out his cock and balls and haul them back between his legs. I refasten the thigh strap to keep them there. His junk is totally limp.

I get the lube from the drawer, and a dildo. I lube his asshole and the dildo and I shove it in quickly and deeply. He yells out again into his gag. I dribble the lube down his cock and balls and start rubbing him. I fuck him with the dildo with one hand while I rub his junk with the other. Not satisfied with just the beating, I need to own him completely. I am rough with him. He hardens. I leave the dildo in to the hilt and continue rubbing his cock as I squeeze and scratch his beaten up ass which makes him cry out anew into his gag. Before very long at all, he shakes and spews his seed out onto the backs of his thighs. I scoop up his sperm and massage it gently into his beaten up ass cheeks and high thighs. His "lotion".

I pull his legs to the side of the bed (he's heavy!) and onto the ground. His chest is still on the bed. He's still bound and gagged and with a dildo up his ass, his spent cock and balls locked behind him, and his own ejaculate all over his ass and thighs. I get him to put his hands up above his head and I untie them enough that he ought to be able to do the rest himself.

"Untie yourself, get that cock out of your butt, and shower up. I'll give you an hour and then we're cycling," I tell him. "No complaints!" I say, anticipating him, as I smack his wet and sticky ass. I leave him there like that.

An hour later he comes down the stairs, walking funny. He has on his tight cycling shorts and jersey.

"Very good!" I tell him. "A bit sore?" I ask.

"Oh Yes."

"Pump up the tires and do whatever to the bikes. I'll change and be down in a jiffy." I run up and get myself changed as well, and come back down.

"Let's see the damage, champ," I tell him.

He pouts, turn around to face away from me, and gingerly lowers his cycling shorts. He has nothing on underneath, of course (they are padded though). Deep red, purple and black abounds. I did a number on him.

"Nice," I say. "That'll keep you up off your seat."

We go off for a big cycle, all the way from uptown down to the lake, out to the spit, and then back home again. About 50km all told.

"How's your ass?" I keep asking him throughout.

"Hurts like hell!" he says.

But he's tough. He's a "man". He can take it. Ha ha!

Nice ride.