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Spanking Survey, Part 5

(I swear this is going to be at least a ten part series at this rate.)

This post is a continuing series of spanking survey questions about my childhood. Part one starts here, part two is here, part three is here, and part four is here.

Did you play spanking games with friends? Only with one when I was about 9. We were playing house and I gave her a bare bottom spanking. It was a game we only played twice.

I also played house and gave bare bottom spankings with two families/three kids whom I babysat. I was 11-12 at the time, and they were 5, 7 and 8. I only played once with the one kid and once or twice with the others.

What’s fascinating to me is that I was always the spanker in these games even though I am very much a sub now and have never spanked an adult. I think at that time while I was a budding spanko, I wanted to be the spanker to regain some of the control I didn’t have in my own life. Instead of being the victim of the spankings, I got to be the one who controlled and administered them.

Were your friends spanked as teens? I only know for certain one college friend who was spanked as a teen and who knew she would continue to be spanked as a college student when she went home if she didn’t follow her parents’ rules. She was from rural Texas, and her family used a belt. The way I found out was a conversation in which we were talking about something completely irrelevant to spanking, but she commented, “If I had done that, my dad would have nailed my butt to the wall.” Her eyes teared up as she said it. Clearly her beltings were painful experiences.

I have a high school friend whom all of us very much suspect was spanked as a teen. Her parents were emotionally abusive, and I know her mother slapped her fairly often. I assume her alcoholic father did more. What’s worse is that she now abuses her young children, spanking them for anything and everything “because that’s how I was raised.”

I have another high school friend whom I suspect was spanked but she never discussed it. Her parents were immigrants from the Philippines. When she would sit some days, it was a very delicate maneuver. I think I may have been the only one who noticed, though.

Did you talk about spanking with your friends? Yes, infrequently, though I was always very interested in the conversation when it happened. I was reluctant to share details of my spankings, though. Almost all kids of the 1970s and 1980s were spanked. I only know of one friend who was never spanked by her parents; she is the exception to the rule. It was just presumed you were spanked and your friends were spanked. I don’t have any idea how old most of my friends were when their spankings stopped.

I remember numerous conversations with peers. The first conversation I remember having was in grade school with two boys who were the same age as me when we were about 6. We were sitting in our front yard talking. We all admitted to being spanked, and the boys went into greater detail about theirs. I don’t remember much of what was said. Both boys agreed the belt was the worst; one said that the buckle end of the belt was brutal. I have no idea if his dad had actually already used a belt buckle on him or if he was just talking about what he’d seen his older brothers get but was bragging about it like it was him. Up until that point, I had no idea people could get spankings with belts.

I remember one neighborhood friend asking me if I was spanked. I think she had been recently spanked with a hairbrush and that was why she was asking. We were probably in second grade or about 7 years old.

The next memory I have of discussing spanking was in middle school. One of my friends was describing with great animation an incident that had happened in her family the day before. Her younger half-brother had walked in the door crying and with a torn shirt. When she asked what had happened, her mother related the tale of his poor tail. She said that he smarted off to her mother while they were driving home, so his mother pulled over to give him a spanking. As she went to grab him from the middle row of seats in the station wagon, he jumped into the back. Her mother had managed to get part of his shirt which ripped. She then opened the trunk of the station wagon, managed to grab him, and gave him a really hard bare bottom spanking for his original disobedience and trying to avoid his spanking.

In high school, I know the group of girls I hung out with had a discussion about being spanked as a child. It didn’t include discussions of who was still being spanked. The only thing I really remember from the discussion was the one friend revealing that she had never been spanked—not even once. I’ve since learned that her mother is very emotionally abusive, though. After this discussion, the one girl in the group who was abused through high school would declare any time that she didn’t like what the unspanked friend had done that the unspanked friend was a brat and should have been spanked as a child.

Once when I was at a friend’s house during high school, the mail came. In the mail was the mid-semester failure notice the school sent out when a student was in danger of not passing a class. The friend’s mother was very angry and made a show of going in her husband’s office and placing the letter there. My friend was begging her mother not to tell her stepfather, but her mother said she had to. Based on the tears in my friend’s eyes, I knew there were going to be serious repercussions. I asked her if she was going to be ok. She choked on her tears and said, “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” but I got the distinct feeling she was going to be spanked before she was fine!

Another time in high school, a male friend was boasting about how his parents were having to spank his brother every single day lately because of his behavior. His brother was in middle school and was rebelling a lot. The way his parents were handling the situation made me very uncomfortable even then. That brother ended up having major drug issues as an adult.

During high school, a close friend and I were talking about spankings. She said she especially hated those with the hairbrush—those were the worst. Years later, I saw a discussion between her and her siblings on Facebook. It seems that only the older kids were spanked with the hairbrush. The youngest said he always jokes that his parents wore out the hairbrush on his older siblings which is why he never got it.

In college, I remember being at my roommate’s house. She mentioned that her father would spank her as a child for not eating what her mother made for dinner because her father considered it disrespect towards her mother. You know those awful 1970s recipes that circulate the web? The things her mother made for dinner were even worse than that. I understood why she chose the spankings sometimes after hearing about some of the dishes her mom made!

Another time the same roommate told me about a joke she told at the dinner table. Her father didn’t find the joke funny and decided to spank her then and there. She tried to get away and failed. With tears in her eyes, she said, “He really tore up my butt that time.” It seemed like her father was a brutal spanker and was willing to find reasons to spank.

The first person I talked to who had been spanked in school was a college friend. I was shocked to learn that spanking was allowed in her schools because it never had been in mine. She told me that in grade school they called it “getting licks.” I forget exactly what she had done in kindergarten, but I think it was talking when she wasn’t supposed to. Her teacher put her over her lap while they were sitting on the floor in a circle, lifted her skirt, and gave her a few “licks” over her panties with a small paddle. The friend said she was horribly humiliated by the whole thing and never did anything to get spanked again in school as a result.

When I was in college, the discussion about spanking as discipline came up in a class for future teachers. Looking back, the professor must have been a spanko though her official position was that she could not condone spanking as discipline in the schools. She let the conversation derail the entire class. The look on her face during the discussion is one I now recognize as someone trying to mask arousal. The class was divided about 50-50 as to whether or not spanking should be allowed in the schools. There was also some discussion about parents spanking kids. The only specific comment I remember was from one guy who said, “The only choice my kids are going to get around discipline is which belt they want me to use on them when I sent to them to fetch one.”

My ex-husband and I actually only had one conversation about his childhood spankings. He said his mother would give him a warning, and then if he didn’t comply, she would let him know he was getting a spanking. She would pull down his pants and give him a few swats on his bare bottom. He said nothing about his siblings’ spankings. His dad never spanked him, and I later learned his dad’s mom never spanked his dad. I don’t know about his dad’s dad. I’m certain his mom was spanked by both of her parents but it was never discussed.

Another guy I briefly dated was babysat by his grandma during summer vacations while his mom worked. He said that if he and his brother acted up, she would tell them to go pick a switch. He said he and his brother would just go outside and make a run for it. By the time they came back later that day, she would have cooled off, so they rarely actually got switched by her. He considered her to be a very mean woman, though.

Surprisingly, I haven’t discussed childhood spankings with any of the other men I’ve dated, probably because I wasn’t willing to discuss mine in detail.

One day when I was on a lunch break at work, one of my coworkers began talking about her 2 year old son. She also had a 5 year old daughter who wasn’t the handful her son was. She was saying how when her son woke up from his nap one day that week, he started coloring on the wall in his room with crayons so she gave him a bare bottom spanking. He did it again a second time on another day that week, so she gave him a harder bare bottom spanking. She said, “I am not abusing him, but I can see how parents could escalate to abuse because he’s not learning from the spankings.” Even at that time I was wondering why she didn’t just take the crayons away to stop him from coloring on the walls. However, since I didn’t have children so I didn’t feel qualified to give advice and because I was younger than her, I just kept my mouth shut.

My first exposure to Domestic Discipline relationships (though I didn’t know the name at that point) was when a friend and I went shopping as childless married young adults. We had walked around the mall, mainly enjoying each other’s company and not buying anything because we didn’t find anything we needed. As we walked out the door of the mall, she said, to me in a very worried voice, “My husband is going to spank me. I was supposed to buy something for myself and I didn’t.” I asked her if she wanted to go back in and look for something for herself since we didn’t have any kind of time restrictions, and she said no, but he was going to spank her for it. I couldn’t understand why she didn’t just go back in and buy something since it sounded like she didn’t want the spanking. Later, I was at the same friend’s house for dinner (without my husband) when she tried a new recipe that her husband didn’t like. He gave her a very damning look; her response that made me think she was going to be punished for it after I left.

When we were reminiscing as adults, one friend talked about how a boy at school had called her by a racial slur. This girl told her mother who told her father. Her father was the boy’s father’s boss! So her father went over to the boy’s house and spoke to his father. The friend said the boy’s father “beat his ass good” in front of her father.

Once we had kids, one of the things that happened was our friend set changed because of differences in how we raised our kids. We all naturally gravitated towards others who parented more similar to our own styles, and that included beliefs about spanking. Before we stopped hanging out with some of our pro-spanking friends, though, there were a few conversations about spanking. The one friend and her husband started out as anti-spanking but changed their minds when their daughter was about four. She told me at that point that her greatest regret was that they hadn’t started spanking sooner and more often.

Another friend seemed anti-spanking, but her husband was not, and so she deferred to him about spankings. However, she said, “It’s just best if I’m not around when he discipline’s the kids.” One day her husband was boasting about having spanked their three year old son for having thrown a ball in the house which hit a glass object but didn’t break it. His words were, “I popped that kid so fast he didn’t see it coming.”

Spanking sometimes came up on mothering listservs I was on, too. Most of the crowds I hung out with were pretty anti-spanking, but there were always a few vocal spankers. The one mother had almost enough kids to make a baseball team. She said that she used a small paddle which she kept on the kitchen counter and didn’t hesitate to use it. According to her, all she had to do was take a step toward the paddle and her misbehaving child would immediately comply without her having to say a word. She said that she spanked them often as younger children and didn’t have to at all once they were older as a result.

Another mother discussed a spanking of her child that made me really sad for that child. The child has intellectual disabilities, and so I never felt like the way they parented him was appropriate for the abilities he had. This child had hit his baby brother at one point, and so his father “punished him in a way that made sure he would never do that again.” I have no idea what actually happened to the boy, but I’m sure it involved corporal punishment.

One other mother discussed how she had started spanking her son at age 8 because she couldn’t handle his intellectual disabilities anymore. She realized how wrong what she was doing, so she got herself into therapy to help her find ways to work with her son’s limitations without spanking.

In another discussion I saw on Facebook, I saw a friend’s sister talking about how she was never spanked because she was such an angel (wink, wink), but she remembers a time when it seemed like two of her brothers were getting spanked almost daily because of their bad behavior.

And finally, not that long ago, a receptionist at my doctor’s office was talking about how her six year old son liked to pee in the shower rather than the toilet (not when taking a shower). She hated it because it made the bathroom smell because he didn’t rinse the shower afterward. She said that the day before she didn’t hear the toilet flush after he’d been in the bathroom, so she asked, “Did you pee in the shower without rinsing it or am I going to have to spank you again?” She said he didn’t answer but went running off to the bathroom where she heard the shower water running. She thought it was really funny. Me, not so much.

©2017 WoodLeatherLace.com

Spanking Survey, Part 4

This post is a continuing series of spanking survey questions about my childhood. Part one starts here, part two is here, and part three is here.

Did you ever get spanked or witness a spanking at a slumber party? No, it was never even threatened.

Were there times when you should have been spanked but weren’t? I can think of times (two in particular) where I could have used an attitude adjustment, one when I was about 5 and one when I was about 13. I am VERY surprised that I didn’t get one for the incident when I was five, but I think there may have been guests around and that was what “saved” me. My parents didn’t want non-family witnesses to how they spanked us even if they were willing to brag about the spankings they gave us. I also can think of two incidents when I was a teen that my parents never found out about that might have been spankable offenses in their mind and a third which I wish I had been spanked for. Most of the time, though, I was a good kid.

Do you feel your gender ever made a difference in how you were spanked? The one time my mother spanked my brother and I together in the same room, she pulled down his pajama pants and spanked him on the bare bottom but didn’t bother undoing the one-piece sleeper I was wearing. Honestly, a one-piece outfit isn’t a deterrent for a parent who really wants a bare bottom, so if she had wanted to, she would have removed it before spanking. He was no more to blame for the incident than I was, so it’s not like he deserved a harsher punishment. I am still not why she did that, but I suspect she may have sexually abused him when he was older which would explain it.

I do think that at a certain level my mother and father spanked my brother and I for some things differently than each other because of our sex. There were different expectations for him as a boy and me as a girl.

Did you ever feel your birth order made a difference in how you were spanked? Yes, very much so. My parents had higher expectations for me in many ways. I also “should know better” because I was the older one. He was the baby and got away with things I would have been spanked for. However, he got spanked for doing things I never would have done, so I don’t think in the grand scheme of things either of us was spanked more or less than the other.

Did others know you were spanked? Yes. My mother was one of those horrible parents who loved telling others about her prowess as a spanking mother. She thought my spankings and her power to give them were funny. She liked to joke about them, especially ones she gave me when I was very little (like still in diapers). So there was no question to neighbors or friends of the family that I was spanked. Plus we had no air conditioning in many places we lived when I was growing up or we couldn’t afford to run it if we did, so during summer months, the windows were open and neighbors probably heard many of the spankings.

Almost everyone in the extended family spanked, so I’m sure all of my relatives knew. I’m not sure how much my mom talked to her family about the spankings she gave her children, but I’m sure they did.

Did your tears ever affect the length of your spanking? No. My parents spanked as long and hard as they wanted. They didn’t care how much I cried during the spanking. My tears were irrelevant. As long as I was crying, they knew they were doing their job right.

Were you ever able to talk your way out of a spanking? No, and I knew better than to try!

Did you have permission to spank any of the kids you babysat? Did you spank them? No, I did not have permission to do so with the exception of one cousin when he was two, and I didn’t spank him. However, with two different sets of kids I babysat, I knew them well enough that we occasionally played spanking games. (See the next post for more info on this.)

Have you ever urinated during a long spanking? No.

Did you ever check out your bottom after the spanking? I really didn’t have a good mirror to check myself with. The only full-length mirror was in my parents’ room, and I sure wasn’t going in there to see the damage. It would have only given them ideas that it wasn’t red enough!

Did you ever check out someone else’s bottom after a spanking? No, except the bottoms I spanked during spanking games.

Did you look up spanking in the dictionary? Like every other good spanko, yes. And as a good nerd, I looked it up in the thesaurus and the encyclopedia, too. Imagine my shock when I typed spanking into Altavista for the first time.

How did you feel about spanking in comics? As a child, they scared me because I worried the idea would somehow be planted (more than it already was) in my parents’ minds to spank me that day because they’d seen a spanking comic in the paper. We subscribed to the daily paper, and it seemed like at least once a week someone was getting a spanking in the comics.

How did you feel about spanking scenes in books? I was mostly intrigued by them. As I got older, I realized they were arousing.

How did you feel about spanking on tv and in movies? I was always embarrassed when watching them with my parents in the room.

Did you get birthday spankings? Not from my parents that I remember. However, friends and I must have done it and I must have seen it at parties because I remember the whole routine of one for each year and one to grow on and a pinch to grow an inch. I don’t ever remember seeing bare bottom ones; they were always over clothing. I don’t remember spanking tunnels. I had one grade school gym teacher who would give clothed birthday spankings, but I don’t remember any other teachers doing it. I also have a vague memory of one uncle giving me one, but we didn’t live near him so we didn’t see him often. It was a gentle and joking spanking for sure.

Did you spank your dolls? Yes, quite often. To me when playing house, that was the roll of the mama: to spank naughty babies. Kids imitate what they see.

©2017 WoodLeatherLace.com

Spanking Survey, part 3

This is continuing a series of spanking questions I have found around the internet about childhood spankings. Part 1 can be found here. Part 2 can be found here.

How sore your bottom was after a typical spanking? I was always very sore for several hours afterward but completely fine physically by the next day. Sitting down was definitely a reminder of what had been done to me.

On a scale of 1-10 how much did the average spanking hurt? In my child’s mind, 10. As an adult in retrospect, I don’t know. I didn’t have any other experience of pain as a child except occasionally falling off a bike and skinning a knee.

Were you ever spanked for something you don’t feel you deserved? Yes. Almost every single spanking was undeserved. My parents had no great parenting skills to speak of. They didn’t have the concept of logical consequences. They were punishing, not disciplining.

Was your spanking ever interrupted by a doorbell, phone, or visitor? Never.

Were your spankings ever delayed? Only if we were in public and I was promised a spanking when we got home, so that wouldn’t have been more than a few hours at most.

Did you ever have to wait to get your spanking? Not longer than a few seconds most of the time.

Were you ever spanked before school? Yes, but I don’t have specific memories about it. I do remember being worried people on the bus would know what happened to me that morning.

With what word did your mom or dad refer to your “bottom”? Bottom, butt, rear end.

What did you do or say when someone said, “You’re going to be spanked”? Often they didn’t even declare it—they just got the look on their face that I knew a spanking was coming. Then they would grab me, pull down my underwear and start spanking within a few seconds of getting that look of rage on their faces.

When they did use some kind of words to tell me I was about to be spanked, I generally screamed, sometimes screaming the word, “No!”, and then tried to run which was never successful as they always caught me within a few steps.

Were you ever bruised by a spanking? I don’t think so, though I’ve always bruised fairly easily just from bumping into things or falling. I really didn’t have a good mirror to check myself with. The only full-length mirror was in my parents’ room, and I sure wasn’t going in there to see the damage. It would have only given them ideas that it wasn’t red enough!

How young were you when you received your first spanking? Probably before I was mobile. I honestly don’t know. I know I was being spanked well before I turned two. My mother loved to brag about her spanking skills by telling other people stories– one in particular of spanking me when I was younger than two.

Did you face corner time after a spanking? Never. This was something I hadn’t even heard of until the invention of the internet.

At one of my many grade schools, one of the ultimate punishments was losing recess and being forced to stand facing the outside wall of the school for the entire time while others were playing. The teachers had to bring everyone to the playground, and they didn’t want students even getting the pleasure of watching other kids play. The boredom of staring at the wall was far more torturous at that age. I only had to do this once when the teacher issued this punishment to the entire class even though I was doing nothing wrong at the time. I still remember staring at the red brick wall.

What happened to you after spankings? I was either left on the floor, sent to my room, or if I was already in my room, I was told to stay there until the parent who administered the spanking decided I could leave (which often was the next day).

Were you ever spanked in a car? Probably, but I don’t have memories of it.

Were you ever spanked in a public restroom? Possibly, but I don’t have memories of it.

Were you ever given enemas or other types of physical punishments sometimes coupled with spankings? No. I never received a soaping either but it was threatened for tone of voice and attitude.

How did you feel after a spanking? Traumatized, unjustly punished, resentful, angry, ashamed, embarrassed, sad, upset, hated, unloved, unwanted.

Did your parents ever tell you that this would hurt them more than you? Nope. Neither of them disliked spanking their children. It wasn’t even that they considered it a duty. I don’t think they got sexual pleasure from spanking me (though I think my mother may have from spanking my brother). I do think they got anger and stress relief from spanking us at our expense.

Did your spanker hug/kiss/tell you they love you, right after the spanking? Never. They didn’t even do this when I hadn’t been punished. They almost always let me know how disappointed, angry, ashamed or disgusted they were with me after spanking me, though.

Do you remember ever doubting their love for you because of a spanking? Every single time.

Did they ever feel like they spanked you unjustly? I was never spanked for something I didn’t do, but spankings were also not appropriate punishments for the majority of what I was spanked for.

Did they ever tell you that you were too old to be spanked? No, which is part of why I lived in fear until I left their house.

Did they ever tell you that you were not too old to be spanked? No, but my dad told my brother as a teen that my brother “was not too big to put across his knee,” so I knew the same was true for me.

Would you mind if they spanked you, for a good reason, in your adult years? I don’t have good relationships with either of my parents. If either of them tried to lay a hand on me, I’d call the police for assault. I don’t respect them, I don’t like them, I don’t love them, and I do my best to avoid interacting with them.

How long were your spankings? I have no idea. When you are hanging over someone’s lap struggling against the pain and screaming in fear, time becomes irrelevant because it seems like it is lasting forever. I suspect most of them were less than two minutes of hard bare-bottomed spanking, but I have no idea.

Do you think spanking was better or worse than most of the other punishments your parents or guardians used? It was by far the most traumatic. Some of the other punishments like denying me food also have left lifelong trauma on my brain, but it was the fear of being spanked that created so much terror in my childhood.

How were your parents disciplined? I’m not sure entirely. I know they were both spanked from conversations with the extended family. My mother was probably beaten but I don’t know with what. My father had a belt used on him at times.

Were your parents in a domestic discipline relationship? Not that I know of, but it is a male income provider, woman housemaker type marriage. The general opinion in the extended family is that it is wrong to spank or hit adults but children are fair game; in their opinions, kids deserve and need it.

Where were you spanked besides your bottom? Only on my bottom. I only had my thighs smacked for warning spanks if I was wearing shorts (of the 70s and 80s very short variety) so that it would be on bare skin and would make more of an impact. I was slapped in the face a few times as a child but my mother mainly used slapping my face in middle school and high school.

Did you feel embarrassed to get a spanking from your parent/guardian? Always. Nudity was considered shameful in our house, so being seen bare bottomed was part of embarrassment. Being told I was bad also created shame. The act of spanking me just heaped on more embarrassment because it was something I knew I had to hide from non-family members because it showed what a bad person I was, and I didn’t want anyone thinking that of me.

Did you want to be spanked as a child? Absolutely not. I was terrified of being spanked. My experiences with spanking at home were so severe that I didn’t have fantasies of being spanked by friend’s parents or anything of the like.

Did you try to earn a spanking as a child? Hell no. I spent my entire childhood trying to avoid them.

Did you ever try to get friends spanked? No. I didn’t like my spankings, and I wouldn’t have wanted to put them through what I went through.

Did you ever try to get siblings spanked? I would tattle on my brother if he was doing something wrong, but he usually didn’t get spanked for whatever he was doing. I got spanked for tattling on occasion, though. Of course, if I hadn’t tattled, I would have been blamed for not stopping him because I was older and should have known better.

Were you a well-behaved child? Yes. I was too terrified most of the time not to be.

©2017 WoodLeatherLace.com

Spanking Survey, part 2

This is continuing a series of spanking questions I have found around the internet about childhood spankings. Part 1 can be found here.

Which parent would you rather be spanked by? My mother, without a doubt. My father’s spankings were much harder and much longer because he was physically stronger than my mother. His temper was also so much more volatile than hers so he often struck with a great deal more anger.

Did you ever get spanked twice for the same thing? I’m sure I was but I couldn’t tell you specifically what or when besides general attitude, whininess, perceived disobedience, tattling and having a messy room (which could randomly be a cause for a spanking but generally wasn’t). I usually never repeated the same error after being spanked for it because I was so terrified of spankings. I even quit playing with my brother because it wasn’t worth getting spanked for playing with him if my mother decided we weren’t playing nicely enough together. I went outside and played with neighborhood friends instead, safely away from my parents.

Did you ever get spanked twice in the same day? Yes. The most traumatic spanking of my life which I still can’t discuss involved being spanked by both parents (unjustly) back-to-back with only a minute in between if even that. My mother spanked me, and then my father spanked me immediately after she did because he was so mad at me he didn’t care if she had already spanked me. He wanted his turn hitting me. I was around four or five years old. That was the day I realized my parents didn’t actually love me or want me. They are a miserable couple who never should have had children.

I know there were plenty of other days where I got light or warning spankings earlier in the day and then a much harder panties-down spanking later in the day when my mother’s patience ran out.

Who pulled down your pants and panties? My parents. I was never given the option to do it myself. They always ripped off my clothes faster than I could even try to resist. The spankings were always violent and sudden. There was nothing slow and deliberate about them. I was never given a chance to submit.

Were you given any chance to justify your behaviors before spanking? Never. When my parents declared a spanking, it was usually administered faster than I could say anything besides screaming in horror, “No!” Even if I was told I would be spanked when we got home, I knew better than to protest. That would have possibly led to a spanking then and there. I also was holding out vain hope that if I kept my mouth shut they would forget their promises to spank me when we got home. They never did.

Is there a rule for number of strokes for particular offence? No. I actually have no idea how many times they hit me during any given spanking. Probably until their hand was sore or they had vented enough anger. They never hit hard enough to bruise or leave marks because in their minds, that was abuse. What they did was not abuse in their minds though it very much was to me.

When did your parents scold you about what you did wrong? I wasn’t scolded so much as yelled at. They would begin chastising me verbally as they grabbed me and pulled down my underwear. They would continue yelling at me over my cries during the spanking. After the spanking, I was always unceremoniously dumped on the floor and told to go to my room or if I was already there, left on my bed. I was always told something derogatory about me and my behavior as they walked away.

What were your parents’ spanking styles like? Both of them spanked rapidly and hard. There was no warm up. There were rarely a few spanks over clothes unless they were doing it while dragging me on the way to sitting down so they could pull down my underwear. They pulled down any obstructing clothing and whaled on my bottom long and hard. Stylistically, there was no difference between my parents’ spanking styles.

What offenses your parents/guardian considered deserving of spanking at the first time without warning?

  • Disrespect to your parent(s): This definitely could provoke and instant spanking.
  • Disrespect to strangers: I would not have dared to do this.
  • Lying: If I was caught in a lie, I would get spanked. I usually didn’t get caught. I also didn’t lie often, but when I did, it was to avoid a spanking.
  • Cussing: I never did in front of my parents when I was young. I knew better.
  • Continuous disobedience: Definitely spank worthy without warning.
  • Drinking/smoking, skipping school, stealing, other crime: I was too good of a kid to do any of this.
  • Bad grades: Anything less than an A was at risk of a spanking on tests or homework with the exception of one teacher my parents hated.
  • Bad report card: I got a B+ once when I was a freshman and was terrified I would be spanked. Mercifully I was not.
  • Breaking curfew: I never did.
  • Staying up all night: I like my sleep. I never stayed up late.
  • Fighting: Fighting with my brother was likely to merit an immediate spanking. Sometimes we got a warning. I never fought with anyone else.
  • Back-talking: Definitely a potential immediate spanking.
  • Breaking stuff deliberately: I never did this.
  • Breaking stuff accidentally: I did get spanked for this.
  • Something really dangerous/life-threatening: I did get spanked for this.
  • Tattling: This was very likely to get me a spanking along with the sibling I was tattling on. Sometimes I got spanked for tattling and he didn’t get spanked for his offense.

Were you ever given bedtime spankings? Only if I had earned the spanking at bedtime which was easy to do in the evenings when everyone was tired and crabby. Usually it meant getting spanked and put to bed earlier than my usual bedtime. I never had a spanking postponed until bedtime and was never told, “You’ll be getting a spanking at bedtime.”

Were you ever spanked at the same time as someone else? Who went first? I only remember the one time I was spanked with my brother, and I went first. I’m not sure there was any logic in why as we were both sitting on his bed when my mother came in to spank us. I am sure we were spanked at the same time for fighting at other times, but I don’t have any actual memories of those spankings.

I was never spanked with friends or cousins.

Were you ever told, “Wait until your father gets home?” Never. My mother had no problem reddening bottoms on her own.

What phrases did your parents use to warn you of an impending spanking or to declare your punishment? 

  • “If you want to cry, I’ll give you something to cry about.”
  • “Do I need to turn this car around?”
  • Anything involving “young lady.”
  • Anything involving both my first and middle name.
  • “You’re getting a spanking.”
  • “I am going to spank you when we get home.”
  • “I’m pulling your pants down and spanking you.”
  • “Do you need a spanking?”
  • “Do you want a spanking?”
  • “If you do that one more time, I am going to spank you so hard you can’t sit down.”
  • My parents would count to 3, sometimes VERY quickly so that you had no chance to cooperate with whatever they wanted you to do. If they got to three, you were getting a spanking then and there.
  • “Go to your room.” This might or might not lead to a spanking. I never knew.
  • “You’re a very bad girl.”
  • “Don’t take that tone of voice with me.”
  • “Do you want me to put you over my knee?”

Were you ever spared a spanking once one was declared? Ha! There was usually half a second between the spanking verdict and the spanking started. I had no chance to protest. If I was promised a spanking when we got home, it was often given in the hallway immediately inside the front door with me standing. Sometimes I was taken to my room and then spanked, or sometimes I was taken to a couch in the family room and spanked (because that was closer to the door). It just depended how angry the parent was and how much their hand was itching to spank me.

©2017 WoodLeatherLace.com

Spanking Survey, part 1

This post and several to follow it are part fetish, part therapy for me. I enjoy reading about others’ childhood spanking experiences despite having been abused as a child. I also know others enjoy reading them. I also like reading about others’ adult spankings and lifestyles, so I’m going to write about mine, too.

I have never been able to talk to any of my partners or therapists about my childhood spankings, but I’ve reached a place where I can finally write about them. I figure that if I’m not able to discuss them with a partner, I can send him here in the future. So with that in mind, I’ve collected a lot of spanking survey questions from across the internet for my benefit and my readers’ benefit. This is just part one of a series.

Do you believe spankings are an effective form of discipline? Generally speaking, no. They can be useful in very rare instances when administered properly (see a following post for the very strict criteria of what that means). In my case, though, I was abused, as are many other children.

How often were you spanked growing up (rarely, often or very often)? I honestly don’t know. I only remember the worst of the spankings; I think I’ve blocked the rest out.

When you were spanked, how hard was it? Very hard. My parents didn’t mess around when it came to real spankings. Warning swats were also given very hard.

Were spankings given on clothing, underwear, bare bottom or nude? I received spankings in all states of dress and undress. Warning swats were usually over clothes on the butt or on the back of legs when wearing a short skirt or shorts. Sometimes it was only one swat. Sometimes I would be grabbed by the arm and given three to five hard swats on the bottom over whatever I was wearing with promises of more if I didn’t change my behavior or being spanked when we got home. Generally speaking, I was spanked bare bottom.

Once I was spanked at the same time as my brother when I was about 6. I was wearing a one piece fleece sleeper which my mother amazingly left up; my younger brother was wearing thin two-piece pajamas, so my mother pulled them down and spanked him bare bottom immediately after spanking me. I don’t know why I lucked out and he didn’t because we were equally guilty of the “offense” in her eyes. I suspect she may have sexually abused him at some point, and that may be why she wanted to see him naked even then.

My mother also burst into the bathroom once when I was 6 or 7, ripped me out of the bathtub, pulled me over her knee while she was sitting on the toilet, and gave me a very hard nude spanking. This is the only spanking as a child that in retrospect as an adult that I think I truly deserved because it was safety related. However, it was carried out very, very poorly. I had no idea I was going to be spanked until my mother came into the bathroom and started violently spanking me. I was VERY resentful about how she did it. After she finished spanking me, I was plopped back in the bathtub to finish my bath while sobbing, and she stormed out of the bathroom again.

What position were you in for spankings? For warnings, I was usually standing. For real spankings, I was over my parents’ knees. Occasionally I might have my pants and panties dropped and be spanked standing up if a chair was not adjacent to us, but usually I was dragged by my arm (or carried when I was younger) to the nearest chair, couch, bed or toilet for my parent to sit and spank bare bottom and hard.

Where were spankings given? Any place my parents wanted to spank me. Generally speaking, I never got more than a less than subtle warning or a warning swat in public. They would take me home to spank me. I was spanked at my grandmother’s house at least once when I was very little, and I’m not sure if extended family watched or not. I have memories of being spanked in my bedroom in two different houses, the guest bedroom, the living room, the family room, the entry hallway, the garage hallway, the kitchen, the bathroom, and the basement.

What implements were used during your spankings? My parents only used their hands that I remember. I suspect I may have been spanked with a hairbrush or spoon at some point, but I don’t remember it. My parents did enough emotional damage with their hands on my bare bottom.

Do you feel you’re a better or more disciplined person today because of it? Absolutely not. It left me traumatized. I lived my entire childhood in fear and was desperate to get out of their house.

Who did the discipline in your house? My mom was a stay-at-home mom and my dad traveled a lot for his business, so she was the primary disciplinarian and spanker. She spanked on the spot. My father was not hesitant to spank on evenings and weekends when he was around. Whichever parent was angry spanked.

Did you ever get spanked by anyone other than your parents? Again, I am not sure. I don’t think a babysitter ever did. I don’t think babysitters had permission. I never had a friend’s parent spank me nor was I ever sent home for a spanking by a friend’s parent. I was a pretty good kid who really didn’t need spankings more than a handful of times in my life but got them way more often.

My one aunt threatened to spank me bare bottom when I was nine or ten for generally not being respectful enough towards my mother (her sister), and as she was very young (only about 21), I was not happy about her threat. She was driving when she made the threat, so I wasn’t in imminent danger, but it loomed over me for quite a while. I don’t know if she actually had permission to spank me or not. When I was babysitting her two year old when I was in high school, though, she told me that if he misbehaved I was to “spank his bare little bottom.” I suspect my mother would not have objected if her sister spanked me; she probably would have spanked me again for being such an embarrassment.

I suspect I was spanked by dad’s mom at some point, but I don’t have memories. I know my mom’s dad once kick-spanked my butt when I was laying on his family room floor when I was about 6 or 7 because he didn’t approve of me laying on my stomach on the floor propped up on my elbows playing. I didn’t say anything to my parents because I was sure they would have spanked me for shaming them.

I don’t know if any other aunts or uncles on either side of the family had permission to spank. Most of them spanked their own children hard and often, though. Only one aunt/uncle did not, and the rest of the family was very vocal in their opinions about how they had brats as a result.

What offences did your parents consider deserving of a spanking? This is where the abuse came in. There was no rhyme or reason for why we were spanked. Something that merited a spanking one day would be fine the next. The only common theme I can see between my spankings was that my parents were using us as punching bags: whenever they were mad, including at each other, they would wait for one of us to do something remotely spankable and then we would get it. Many of the things I was spanked for were not at all reasonable spanking offenses. There were other times when I was a complete brat and didn’t get spanked. In retrospect, I can see some of the spankings were because they were embarrassed by me for things that shouldn’t have been shameful.

Was it effective in making you stop doing whatever you were doing wrong? I lived my childhood in fear of being spanked. I felt like I had to be perfect. Being spanked for genuine mistakes was not out of the question. So yes, it stopped me from doing naughty things and made me live in fear for being spanked when I didn’t follow the arbitrary rules.

When your parents spanked, was it done on the spot while you were standing, or would they make it a bigger event by making you go over their knee or over your bed, etc.? It was always done immediately, usually on the spot. There was no routine or scene. Both mother and father just grabbed and spanked while screaming at me  about how bad I was. One exception was if I tried running away from them by going to my room where they’d inevitably catch up with me and spank me. I’d also occasionally get sent to my room and they’d quickly follow to spank me.

What age did you get your last spanking and what did you do? My last bare bottom over the knee spanking was when I was 9 or 10, and it was for playing with my toys in the guest bedroom because my room was so small there was no real room to play in there. I didn’t put them away, and without warning the next day, my mother dragged me in the guest bedroom spanked me while she was sitting on the floor, pulling me over her knee and pulling down my pants and underwear. I had no idea it was coming until it happened. There were no rules about having to immediately pick up and put away toys in our house, so it was really unexpected and I didn’t ever understand why I got it other than she was having a bad day.

My mother slapped me across the face several times as a teenager through high school.

I really don’t remember when my last bare bottom spanking from my father was, though I think I was less than 9. My brother was spanked well beyond age 9. The last one I remember of his was at age 13, but he probably was spanked beyond. He was not as bright as me about avoiding trouble. He talked back to my parents when they were already angry which was a really stupid move on his part.

Did you cry every time? Yes, as soon as I realized what was about to happen. I sobbed for a long time afterward. My father would often come back and threaten to give me something else to cry about if I didn’t stop crying. He had zero patience with children who acted up in anyway including just making typical kid noises or crying after a spanking. He really doesn’t like children.

How did your parents know you learned your lesson? My parents weren’t trying to make sure we learned a lesson. They just wanted to vent their anger on us. They stopped spanking when they were less angry and felt we’d had enough.

What other discipline methods did your parents use on you? Time outs, grounding, restriction of toys or personal property, destruction of toys, being sent to my room (and not knowing if I was going to be spanked or not until I was allowed out which was some arbitrary amount of time), being sent to bed without supper, being sent to bed early, yelling, emotional abuse, neglect, shaming, belittling, writing lines.

Do you feel it was abuse or at times necessary discipline? With the exception of one spanking which I probably deserved but was given in an abusive fashion, I felt it was all abuse.

Do you believe that spanking may have led to anger and/or trust issues with your parents? Absolutely. It also created PTSD.

Were you afraid of your parents? Very much so.

Were you ever spanked in public? Not more than a warning smack that I remember. I suspect I may have been taken to the car and been spanked on occasion, but I don’t remember it. I was threatened with public bathroom spankings but I don’t know if I ever got one. I may have been spanked in public before my memories kick in, though.

Were you ever spanked in front of others? My parents had no problem spanking siblings in front of each other, though I only remember being spanked once in front of my brother and I only remember him being spanked three total times, once in conjunction with me. I’m sure there were many more times. I suspect I was probably spanked in front of grandparents at various points, too, but I don’t remember. Mercifully my parents never spanked in front of friends or guests.

Were you spanked at school? Never, nor did I witness any spankings. I think it was illegal in all the states I lived in. We moved frequently so I lived in many states across the nation from coast to coast and went to many schools, but none were in the deep South.

One of my male grade school gym teachers would give playful birthday spankings that were given while we all sat in a circle on the gym floor. He would pull the birthday child over his lap and given a firm but not hard birthday spanking over clothing. The children could decide if they wanted to be spanked. Most did. The year my birthday wasn’t on a weekend, I declined. I got more than enough spanking at home!

©2017 WoodLeatherLace.com

I’m in Charge

(F/M, spanking, crop, humiliation, CBT, paddle, nipple torture, hairbrush, clothespins, school memories, voyeurism)

Note: This story involves non-consensual activity, something I do not condone in real life. However, the story is pure fantasy and one that was a great release for me to write as I dealt with some political frustrations of late.

As I walked up to the door at the big white house, the butler’s eyebrows raised at my appearance. I thought I looked great, but perhaps I hadn’t toned it down quite enough for the vanillas. I was a vision in royal blue. My skirt was a tight and lacy yet lined A-line which hit a few inches above my knees. I had on a blue leather bra, but I had put on a sheer blue blouse over it for a little bit of modesty. My blue fishnet stockings and blue stilettos somewhat covered my legs and feet. I wore a lace blue choker necklace, and my hair was upswept into a loose bun. It would have been a marginally professional outfit appropriate for business wear had it been a little less revealing. I also carried a large duffel bag which carried the tools of my trade.

“I’m here to see Donnie,” I informed the butler as he looked me up and down.

“And whom may I say is requesting the honor of his presence?” the butler inquired.

“Tell him Lacey is here to play. His Uncle Steve sent me to change his attitude a bit,” I replied as covertly as I could. I didn’t think the butler really wanted to know I was there to beat his boss’ ass, but I wanted Donnie to start quaking in anticipation of what he had coming. I had played with Donnie once before, and he was a very whiny, very needy type of boy-man who deserved to be put in his place, a job I was happy to do. Getting paid for it was nothing but a bonus.

The butler showed me into a parlor off the main hallway where I knew I was to wait until I had been cleared for entering Donnie’s private quarters. The room was nicely decorated, and on the coffee table were magazines which had Donnie’s portrait on the cover. Not all of them were recent, but I knew Donnie’s ego dictated that nothing but magazines with flattering articles about him should fill his home. He had an image he wanted to convey to his guests, one of power and success as a corporate CEO. I didn’t buy it for a minute. I’d seen the true man, and I knew the real story of whom he was.

After a few minutes, the butler returned. “You may follow me upstairs,” he let me know. I remembered the way, but I knew protocol dictated that I follow him. We climbed a regal staircase and walked down a red carpet hallway lined with giant portraits of the previous occupants hanging on the walls. As I looked on the faces of honorable men from the past, I shook my head in bemusement. How had Donnie managed to descend from this lot?

As we approached Donnie’s private quarters, the butler gestured toward the two security guards standing at attention. I recognized one from my previous visit and knew he was the senior of the two. The other man was a stranger, but that didn’t surprise me. Donnie was the kind of man who had a frequent turnover in his staff because he was so difficult to please, or so rumor said.

I approached the senior guard and gave him my bag to inspect. It had been quite a process getting in with my toys the previous time I was here, but this visit I knew would go much smoother since the guard knew what to expect. As he opened my bag, he found paddles, a strap, a crop, a butt plug, nipple clamps, and a few other delightful toys. The guard smiled and nodded with approval as he dug through the bag. The only compromise we’d had to make last time was that I was not allowed to take my handcuffs or rope into the room. This time, I didn’t even bring them.

“Would either of you gentlemen like earplugs?” I asked.

“No, ma’am. We plan to enjoy this, if you don’t mind,” the senior security guard replied. His junior was looking very confused by this point since he hadn’t seen what was inside the bag, but I knew he would soon be enlightened. I laughed in response. Working for Donnie probably wasn’t a fun job, so I could imagine how hearing him suffering at my sadistic hand might be truly delightful for his guards.

“But of course,” I responded with a smile. “I’m always happy to have an audience listening in. Would either of you want to be an actual witness at some point?”

“Oh, ma’am,” the senior guard said, almost breath-taken, “You don’t know what an honor that would be. We’d be happy to witness.”

“What did you just sign me up for?” the junior guard asked.

“Just wait,” his superior said. “It will be well worth it.”

With that, I smiled at the senior guard, reclaimed my bag, and knocked on the door to enter Donnie’s room.

“Come in,” Donnie called in a hesitant voice. Good. He was already nervous. He should be. It took a lot to break him last time. I was hoping he had remembered some of his lessons, but I suspected that his ego was going to try to fight me again.

“Hello, Donnie,” I greeted him as I entered the room.

“Hello, Lacey,” he replied as he walked toward me.

“STOP!” I commanded. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m coming over to greet you,” Donnie casually replied.

“I don’t think so, Donnie,” I retorted. “We ‘discussed’ this last time, and that discussion involved a harsh beating of your ass if you remember correctly.”

“Oh,” Donnie meekly said. He began whining at me, “But I didn’t think that meant I had to do it every time I saw you.”

“Oh, little boy,” I replied. “You are very mistaken on that one. When I am in your rooms, I am in charge. You will submit to me, and you will do it willingly…”

“But I’m in charge!” Donnie whined again.

“Like hell you are!” I replied. “The sooner you accept that I am in charge of you in the bedroom and that your Uncle Steve is in charge of you in the corporate realm, the easier your life will be. Now, would you like to try that entrance again or will we have to repeat the very intense beating you got last time for disrespecting me?”

Donnie looked rather miserable at this point. His ego was still struggling. I could see him debating whether he should fight me on this or not. He might weigh twice as much as me, but that wouldn’t stop me from being able to physically dominate him, and he knew it. His ass had been a very lovely shade of purple when I said goodbye to him the last time, and I knew he felt that beating for many days afterward. I suspected he was debating in his head whether or not I would really repeat that performance again. To make my point, I pulled a hairbrush out of my bag and smacked it against my hand. His eyes got quite wide in response to my gesture.

“No, Lacey,” he replied. “I’d rather not have a purple backside again.”

“Let’s get one thing straight, Donnie,” I sharply retorted. “You WILL address me as Mistress Lacey, Mistress, or Ma’am. If you don’t, you will pay for your disobedience. Now, please try that again.”

“No, Mistress Lacey,” he corrected himself, “I don’t want a purple backside again.”

“Excellent choice, Donnie,” I replied, “Because you are still going to have a very red backside for all the ways you’ve been disobedient since I last saw you.”

“But…” Donnie began whining. I slapped the hairbrush on my hand again and shot Donnie my best “if looks could kill” glare. He stepped backward, instinctively covered his bottom with his hands, looked down at the floor, and meekly replied, “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good boy, Donnie,” I responded. “Now, I am going to walk out into the hallway and have a little chat with your guards for a few minutes. When I come back in, I expect you to be dressed and positioned as we discussed last time.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Donnie sighed submissively. I decided to let that bit of attitude go for the moment. I’d be correcting him for it soon enough.

I stepped out in the hallway with my hairbrush still in my hand and shut the door to Donnie’s room. The senior guard had a huge smile on his face.

“How is it going, ma’am?” he asked.

“Fine, thank you. Donnie just needs a moment or two to prepare,” I said.

“Are you doing his hair?” the junior guard inquired while staring at the hairbrush in my hand. “I had heard he didn’t let anyone touch his hair besides his barber.”

I laughed. Donnie’s hair really could use a woman’s touch, but I was not up to that task. “No, that’s not what I plan to do with this hairbrush,” I replied. The guard looked confused.

“Are you telling me that when you were a little boy your mother never put a hairbrush to good use on another part of you besides your hair?” I asked him.

“Oh!” he said, his face reddening. I could see the lights going off in his head. “So, you’re a…”

“Professional dominatrix,” I finished the sentence for him so that he didn’t accidentally say something inappropriate. “Yes, I am, and I’m quite a good one. Donnie’s Uncle Steve has hired me to come on a weekly basis to keep Donnie in line. I’ve been here once before, and Uncle Steve found Donnie much easier to control after I’d given him a good dose of discipline.”

“Oh,” the guard said again. “So when Joe said we’d be happy to witness, he meant…”

“That you would be happy to watch me give your boss a bare bottom ass licking,” I finished his sentence. A smile unlike any I’d seen from any of the staff at the big white house broke across his face.

“Wow!” he said. “Yes, I would definitely be happy to witness that. I’ve only been on the job for a few days, but still, I wouldn’t mind seeing him in a submissive position.”

“Well, wait a little bit, and I’ll call you in. Naughty schoolboys often need a witness when the principal paddles them at school, so I don’t see why it should be any different for a big boy,” I responded with humor in my voice. “Now, time for me to see if that naughty boy has followed my orders,” I stated as I opened the door and walked back into Donnie’s room. I closed the door, but not quite all the way. I wanted to make sure the guards got to hear as much as possible.

When I walked back in the room, I was greeted by the back view of Donnie wearing his tighty-whities and nothing else.  “Donnie” was even embroidered into the waistband of the briefs. Donnie was standing in the corner of the room with his hands on his head. This was a vast improvement to the way I had been greeted the first time I entered the room when he was still in his suit and tie.

“Good boy, Donnie,” I replied. “I am glad to see you remember how I expect to find you. And what exactly have you been thinking about while you were in the corner waiting for me to come in?” I asked him. By this time, I had walked up behind him, so I took advantage of the hairbrush in my hand, dragging it firmly across his bottom so that he knew I was prepared to punish an unacceptable answer.

“I’ve been thinking about how you are going to spank my bottom, Lacey,” he replied.

CRACK! Donnie let out a loud howl as my hairbrush very sharply and fiercely came down on his bottom. His briefs really weren’t much protection against my muscular swing, though I was sure he was grateful to still be wearing them.

“What did you do wrong, Donnie?” I asked sternly.

“I forgot to call you Mistress,” Donnie quickly responded, worried that his bottom was going to be spanked again. He was right on that account. He just didn’t know when the next swat would come.

“I’m glad you recognized part of what you did wrong,” I replied, “but that wasn’t your only error.” With that pronouncement, I gave Donnie’s covered bottom a series of five very quick, very hard spanks in one place which led Donnie to let out another howl. He was such a baby when it came to taking his spankings unlike most men who tried to stoically hide their pain for as long as possible. I continued to lecture him while randomly swatting his bottom at a slower pace, “You were supposed to be thinking about what a naughty boy you’ve been since I was last here and why your Uncle Steve had to call me to come discipline you again. You must be acting like quite the naughty boy from how disgruntled he was on my voicemail. He said that you have been using social media too much and working too little. He also said you haven’t been following his orders well at all. He wanted me to spank your negative attitude and your stubbornness out of you, and that’s a task I’m more than happy to do for the good of your entire staff.”

I could tell that Donnie was as displeased about my lecture as he was about the continued bites from my hairbrush. He so desperately wanted to be in charge at work, but he just wasn’t ready yet. His immaturity came through in his behavior. Despite his inherited title as CEO, he wasn’t the one who really ran the company. His Uncle Steve ran the show, and he was definitely right in thinking that the best way to handle a spoiled brat like Donnie was to spank some obedience into him. Donnie might not physically be a little boy anymore, but he sure acted like one.

I decided that it was time to increase Donnie’s humiliation. “Turn around,” I commanded, “But don’t take your hands off of your head. As Donnie did so, I could see the frustration and struggle in his eyes. When I was done spanking him, those emotions would be replaced with submission and acceptance. But for now, it was time to start with a bit of humiliation. I set my brush on the bureau next to me and turned backed to Donnie. I quickly pulled on both side of Donnie’s briefs, and they fell to the floor. As I expected, Donnie began to protest this treatment.

“You can’t do that to me,” he said, removing his hands from his head to cover his cock and balls. “I won’t stand for it.”

“Oh, yes I can, Donnie,” I reprimanded him. “And you just earned yourself quite a bit more punishment for both talking back to me and taking your hands off your head. Now, get back into position and shut your mouth unless you want to make this any worse for yourself.”

Donnie looked at me. He knew I wasn’t kidding. He sighed and put his hands back on his head. That sighing nonsense was going to have to stop, but one step at a time. I walked over to my bag and pulled out a handful of clothespins along with nipple clamps.

“What are those?” Donnie asked with trepidation as I approached him.

“’What are those, Mistress?’” I responded.

“Oh. Yeah. What are those, Mistress?” Donnie corrected himself.

“’Those’ are some devices for me to help adjust your attitude. I dropped the clothespins on the bureau but brought the nipple clamps with me to Donnie’s bare chest. His eyes got a bit wider as he saw me open them and approach his own delicate nipples.

“I don’t think I want you to use those on me,” he whined at me.

“Too bad,” I replied without a bit of remorse. “You made your decisions to accept whatever punishment I dealt out when you chose not to follow my orders to keep your hands on your head and address me properly. I am going to teach you to follow instructions no matter how much pain it causes you.” With that, I let the one clamp bite into his nipple. He winced at the pain. “Oh, little boy,” I reacted, “Just you wait for what’s coming next.” I latched the other clamp onto his free nipple and then sadistically turned the clamp as hard as I could. Donnie nearly jumped out of his skin as he screamed in pain. His hands started to come off of his head, but he quickly put them back. He was figuring out he couldn’t afford to disobey anymore. His punishment was already going to be harsh enough.

I grabbed the clothespins off of the bureau next. Donnie grimaced and asked hesitantly, “Please, Mistress, Ma’am, what are you going to do with those?”

“I am going to put them on your ballsack,” I replied. “And you should be aware that they twist just as well as the nipple clamps do so you better be on your best behavior. Now, spread your legs for me.”

I could tell that Donnie really wanted to refuse, but for once, common sense kicked in. His legs spread apart and his flaccid cock and balls dangled meekly between his legs. I cupped his balls and began carefully lining his scrotum with as many as I could, some facing to the right and some to the left. This was going to make it very uncomfortable to walk over to the bed without hurting himself or popping them off accidentally. Either way, he was going to be hurting.

I put the last of the clothespins on his scrotum, and I smiled at my artwork. I could make such creative designs, not that my clients ever seemed to appreciate that part of my talents. I stood up, and I gave Donnie a sharp whack with my hand on his bottom just because I could. He winced a bit, but I could tell that I needed to switch back to my hairbrush to make him yell. That was already my plan.

“Ok, Donnie,” I said. “It’s time for us to really get down to business. I’m going to sit on the bed, and you are going to bend yourself over my lap with your body draped on the bed so that I can give you the good, hard, bare bottom spanking that you deserve. I expect complete compliance. No kicking and no wiggling off my lap. Any infractions will be harshly punished. Remember, those clothespins twist just as easily as the nipple clamps.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Donnie replied. Finally. I was getting somewhere in changing his attitude towards me.

I gracefully walked over to the bed and sat down, pulling my skirt toward my knees. I set the hairbrush on the bed next to me so that I could assist Donnie in positioning himself over my lap.

“Alright, Donnie,” I instructed, “You may walk over to the bed now.” Donnie began what was an uncomfortable for him but amusing for me waddle over to the bed.  I could tell he was also not wanting to walk any faster than he had to because he was trying to stall his punishment. That was fine. He could really only extend the wait by a few seconds. When he finally got over to me, though, he quickly bent over my lap like a good boy. He spread his legs apart to keep the clothes pins from prodding his legs and balls too much. He delicately put his chest onto the bed, concerned about what the nipple clamps might do. I decided to show him. I pushed down strongly on the center of his back, and he let out a scream of pain as the clamps dug in.

“That was just a warning, Donnie,” I said. “I wanted to let you know how any lack of cooperation will be dealt with during this spanking.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Donnie replied.

With that, I was ready to begin his spanking. I picked up my hairbrush, rubbed it across his backside so that he knew I was about to begin, and then I let the brush come crashing down onto his bottom. As expected, he screamed out, but he did try to hold still as he didn’t want any of the torture devices on his body to create any more misery.

Not feeling overly merciful, I set forth in giving Donnie the kind of harsh spanking that any naughty boy could expect from me even if he spent his daytime hours as a CEO. Over my lap, I could revert him to a sobbing little boy in minutes. My wooden hairbrush and I were experts at the job. I began moving the brush up and down his bottom and legs, switching sides periodically but randomly. I settled into a steady rhythm, spanking fairly rapidly. Donnie was howling within only a few seconds, though most men would only have been grunting at that point. To his credit, Donnie was a good boy about staying over my lap and not reaching back. I’d had to smack his hands thoroughly last time for trying to stop the brush, and this time he knew not to do it.

As Donnie’s bottom and thighs went from pale pink to dark pink to red, he continued to howl and wriggle. I had my left arm around his waist to steady him from rocking off of me. Eventually, I felt the release in his body that I was waiting for: The one that told me he was no longer fighting his punishment and had accepted his place of submission. When he reached that point, I slowed my spanking strokes, working on randomly smacking the spots on his backside that weren’t as red as the others. His howling also slowed, but he still winced and shrieked with each new smack. Once I was satisfied with my artistry on his canvas, I placed the hairbrush next to me on the bed and began slowly running my hands over Donnie’s bottom. I could tell he found the gesture soothing though his whimpering and sniffing continued as he recovered from the harsh spanking he just endured.

“I’m very proud of you for taking this part of your punishment well, Donnie,” I began speaking again when I felt he was ready to pay attention. “You didn’t try to block the hairbrush or get off my lap. That shows you can be a good boy who follows directions when you want to. Hopefully learning to submit to me in the bedroom will help you learn how to submit to your Uncle Steve in the office. If not, he’ll report back to me, and I will punish you for it.”

Silence ensued this little lecture of mine, so I gave Donnie another sharp smack on his very sore bottom. Donnie yelped and replied quickly, “Yes, ma’am! I’ll be good! I promise.”

“I’m glad to hear that Donnie,” I replied. “Now, it’s time for you to get onto the bed on your back with your legs spread so I can remove the clothespins.”

Donnie scooted off of my lap as carefully as he could, not wanting the clothespins to cause any more damage than they already were. He gingerly sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back, spreading his legs as wide as he could. While he was arranging himself, I had stood up and reached into my bag of goodies. I pulled out a crop and returned to stand between Donnie’s legs. When he looked up and saw the crop in my hand, his eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

“What are you going to do with that, Mistress?” he asked with great trepidation.

“I’m going to remove the clothespins from your ballsack,” I confidently replied. “Don’t worry. This is not a trick amateurs should try, and I am not an amateur. I spent years practicing to learn how to do this correctly, and I’ve done it to many other naughty boys aside from yourself, Donnie. However, if you don’t want to receive a hard cropping in some very delicate places, I suggest you hold as still as possible while I do this. It’s probably best if you pull your legs up onto the bed and use your hands to hold your knees open.”

Donnie quickly followed my directions, though I could tell by the look on his face that he was still scared out of his wits about what I was going to do. I smiled my most wicked smile, and then I quickly began slapping off the clothespins with my incredibly accurate aim and my trusty crop. It actually took me less than a few seconds to remove them all, so fast that Donnie didn’t have time to react. However, once they were off and the blood began rushing back to his scrotum, Donnie let out another howl of pain. His hands flew off his knees and onto his sack, grasping and rubbing and attempting to stop the sting. I knew that this intense pain would only last briefly, and he would calm down quickly. However, I can’t say I didn’t enjoy watching his desperate attempts to stop it.

Once Donnie’s sack quit hurting so intensely, he simply lay on the bed. I could tell that he was in a submissive state. The hard hairbrush spanking had gotten through to him fairly quickly this time. I went and sat on the bed and gently rubbed his hair.

“You’re being a good boy, Donnie. You’re learning to listen and follow directions without questioning them. That’s a good thing. You need to be able to work well with others rather than insisting on doing things your way all the time. I know this isn’t a pleasant way to learn those lessons, but it’s well past time you learned them.”

Donnie looked at me meekly and whispered, “Yes, ma’am.” I had him in the submissive state I wanted him in. As an act of kindness, I then leaned over and quickly tugged off the nipple clamps he was still sporting. Of course, this resulted in another howl as Donnie’s nipples regained feeling. I could only smile as he desperately tried to rub the pain away.

I stood up and replaced my crop in my bag, but I also pulled out my heavy wooden school paddle.  Donnie’s Uncle Steve and I had worked out a daily incentive system that I was now going to put into action. Each day at the end of the work day, Uncle Steve was going to evaluate Donnie’s behavior for the day. He and Donnie would discuss it before Donnie went home. If Donnie had failed to be cooperative and compliant that day, then he would earn a demerit. Each demerit he earned from Uncle Steve would result in a hard swat with the paddle from me. Since there were five days in the work week, Donnie could earn up to five swats from me. This was on top of whatever type of spanking I felt was necessary to shape his general submission and cooperation with me.

Having grabbed my next weapon of choice, I went and stood in front of Donnie again. He was still curled up in the fetal position on the bed trying to recover from the stinging pain in his nipples, his sack, his ass, and his thighs. When he saw me with the paddle, he began to beg.

“Please, Mistress Lacey, no more. I can’t take any more today,” he whined.

“I’m afraid that’s not true, Donnie. You have to take what is coming to you. You earned the swats you are going to receive with the paddle through your behavior at work last week, and so now it’s time to pay the piper. Now, how many demerits did Uncle Steve give you last week?” I asked.

I could tell Donnie wanted to refuse to answer. Then I could tell he was thinking about lying. However, he knew that his Uncle Steve and I texted each other daily, so if he lied, I would know. Finally deciding to accept his fate, Donnie whispered out to me, “Five. Five demerits. Five swats.”

“I’m glad you know how the demerits translate to swats. I am disappointed, though, Donnie, that you were such a bad boy at work last week. However, I’m happy to give you the punishment you deserve. Please stand up for me now and walk over to your desk,” I ordered.

Donnie delicately rolled off the bed, being careful to put as little pressure as possible on his sorest parts, some of which were about to get even sorer. He limped over to the desk with his ballsack obviously still sore and his ass smarting as well. Once Donnie got next to the desk, he put his hands over his crotch out of modesty, not that I hadn’t just seen everything he had to display.

Ignoring his hands over his genitals, I began a new line of inquiry with him. “Donnie, when you were still in school, was corporal punishment allowed?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, obviously wondering why I was asking.

“And were you ever in the principal’s office for a licking?” I pried further.

“Um, yes, ma’am. Twice when I was in high school. I probably should have been there more often, but I escaped with only two paddlings from the principal. There were some other incidents with teachers, though,” he fully confessed.

“So what was the routine in your principal’s office?” I requested.

“Well, we’d go in and sit down. He’d ask us why we thought we were sent there. We’d confess our sins, and then he’d issue a ruling on our punishment. If he decided we were getting a paddling, he’d call our parents to let them know even though they’d already signed a form giving their consent. My mom was the one who got the call both times, and both times she insisted on talking to me. She let me know that I could expect a hard belt licking from my dad that night, too, for acting out at school,” he reminisced.

“Hmmm…” I thought out loud, “Perhaps next week we’ll start with your paddling and then move on to a belt spanking afterward. That seems like it might jar some memories of how to behave from your subconscious.” Donnie did not look pleased with this idea of mine, but he knew that talking back to me when I was holding a big wooden paddle was a very bad idea.

“So tell me what happened next,” I prompted Donnie.

“After I hung up the phone, I would have to go stand at the back of the principal’s desk and lean over toward the front. The principal would get the secretary or a volunteer from the office to come in to witness the paddling. The rules said he had to paddle us in whatever we were wearing, and luckily both times I was wearing jeans though they didn’t offer much protection from his hard swing. Then, once he was ready, he would give us the paddling. He’d make us count off the strokes and thank him when he was done. Once we stopped crying, we were sent back to class,” Donnie finished.

“Well,” I said, “You’re not wearing anything right now, so it appears you’ll be getting your paddling exactly as you are, unfortunately for you. We’re also lucky enough to have not one but two willing witness for your paddling, though.”

Donnie’s jaw dropped as he realized that I was about to bring in his security guards to see him get a bare bottom paddling. His ass was already bright red, so he had to have known that the paddling was going to hurt a great deal, and he had to have known that he was going to scream loudly with each swat. The color began to drain from his face. I could tell he was debating protesting my verdict, but as I held up the paddle in both my hands for his viewing pleasure, I could see that urge back down within him. Donnie knew that the five swats he was about to get were going to be extremely painful, and he didn’t want to earn any more.

“Yes, ma’am,” Donnie squeaked out. And with that, he compliantly bent over the desk without me even asking him to do it. That was a very good sign. I walked over to the door and poked my head out.

“Ok, gentlemen, we’re ready for you to witness Donnie’s paddling,” I said with a smile. Both men smiled back and followed me into Donnie’s room. I motioned for them to stay at a distance of about five feet from the desk, far enough back that they could see Donnie’s face when he looked up but also close enough that they could see the details of the damage I was inflicting on his bottom.

I walked around to the back side of the desk and ran a hand over Donnie’s waiting bottom. It was still quite red and obviously sore. However, I wasn’t done with the job I had been hired to do. I lifted up my paddle with both hands, took aim, pulled back, and swung hard.

“ONE!” Donnie screamed as the impact of the paddle reverberated through his bottom. I gave him a few seconds to calm himself, and then I took aim again. Once again, Donnie screamed out “TWO” after the paddle hit is ass. I could tell he wanted to stand up and rub his bottom, but instead, he just rocked back and forth as his hands gripped the front of the desk with all his might. Once his rocking subsided, I gave the third stroke which Donnie counted off with a scream.

I paused to look up at the guards who were both still smiling at me. The joy on their faces was amazing. I was so glad I’d let them partake in this event. I decided it was time to get this over with, though. I let the paddle hit Donnie’s ass hard and rapidly twice in a row. Donnie screamed “FOUR” and “FIVE!” After the fifth swat, his body seemed to crumple on the desk. He let go of his firm grip, and his tears began to flow. I motioned to the guards that they should leave, and I began to rub Donnie’s back.

“I’m sorry I had to punish you so harshly, Donnie boy, but you earned this paddling and you know it. Next week, you might be able to avoid the entire paddling by cooperating with your Uncle Steve. If not, I’ll be paddling you again. And despite the rules in your principal’s office, I’m instituting a new rule here. You will always get the paddle on your bare bottom from me. Do I make myself clear, young man?” I asked.

Through his tears, Donnie replied, “Yes ma’am.” Then he asked very submissively, “May I get up, Mistress Lacey?”

“Yes, Donnie. Your punishment is over. You can get up and get dressed if you would like or you can get in bed and cry for a while. Whatever you would like to do is fine with me,” I responded. “However, I recommend that you spend some time reflecting on how you are going to avoid this happening next week when I come to visit you.”

“Yes, ma’am” was Donnie’s only response as he stood up and painfully walked over to his bed where he curled up in a ball on top of the covers. I put my paddle back in my bag, zipped it up, and headed out the bedroom door which I shut quietly behind me.

The guards both smiled at me as I said my goodbyes. Then, with a bit of hesitation, the junior guard asked me, “Um, ma’am? Do you have a business card? For a friend, of course,” he quickly added. I smiled and pulled one out of the side pocket of my bag.

“I look forward to hearing from your friend,” I answered, and then I headed down the long hall once again.

©2017 WoodLeatherLace.com

Gag Me

When he arrived at my front door, he found me in black heels, thigh high black stockings, a silky black g-string and a black lacy corset. I had a black lace choker necklace on, and my hair was flowing freely. The look in his eyes as he walked in the door told me immediately that he approved of my attire. He dropped his bag, put one hand on my waist, and kissed me firmly on the lips. Then, opening his other hand, he handed me a squeaky toy that belonged to his dog. I looked at him with puzzlement.

“Are we going to play fetch today?” I questioned.

“No, we are not playing fetch, silly. That is going to be your safeword today,” he replied. I was still very confused, though.

“What’s wrong with my usual safeword?” I queried.

He gave me an evil grin. “You can’t possibly tell me your safeword if you have your mouth filled with a ball gag, and you can’t wave an arm or a leg if I have them bound to the bed.”

“Oh.” I replied. So we were going there. One of my last fears. One of my biggest worries. Trusting him enough to surrender my voice to him. To let him dominate me and not be able to say “STOP” if I got scared. Yes, I’d have the squeaky toy. It was still a major act of trust on my part to let him do this.

“Are you ok?” he said, looking into my eyes with concern.

“Yes. I just didn’t expect this. But I want this. I need this. I trust you. I just have to let go and surrender to it.”

With that, he gave me another kiss and a firm pat on my ass. “Upstairs. Now!” he commanded me, and I willingly obeyed. I took his hand and led him into my room. Once there, I put my arms around his shoulders and my hands around the back of his neck. I began kissing him passionately, letting him know how much I wanted him, even if he had other plans for entertaining us.

“God, you are so sexy, woman. You turn me on. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to wait a while to do something about that problem. Instead, I’m going to deal with the problem of your lily white ass,” he remarked, giving my bottom its next smack of the day. Despite the shock of the impact, I refused to give him the pleasure of crying out with surprise. He’d just have to wait until he earned my screams. Two could play at this game, or so I thought.

He led me over to the bed where he piled a few pillows in the center. “Up and over, Little One.” I wriggled across the bed and placed my plump bottom over the pillows, my face then laying down into the quilt. I felt him grab my left foot and draw it out towards the footboard. Soon, hemp rope was binding my foot in place, loose enough for me to not lose circulation but tight enough that I wasn’t going to be able to move more than an inch or two until he released me, an action that would be fully his to decide upon.

He repeated his actions again with my right foot. I could hear the rope knocking against the headboard as he swung it around, making loops and knots that would keep me captive. I tried to move a bit, but I found that, as always, he had done an excellent job of binding me exactly where he wanted me. Then followed my wrists, one after the other. I was now making a giant X while lying sideways across the king-sized bed, a position which left my ass exactly in position for a good, hard spanking from my Master. Just to make sure there would be no unintentional damage, he unfastened the garter straps attached to the bottom of my corset from their secured place on my stockings. He tucked the straps up out of the way, leaving my ass a completely clear target since my g-string was wedged firmly in my butt crack.

However, the setup was not complete yet. My Master pulled the ball gag from his bag. This was a new toy, one I’d never seen before. Before putting the gag on me, he asked if I had any final words or requests. I asked if this was a death sentence! He gave me an evil grin and handed me the squeaky dog toy back again since I had set it on the bed during our preparations. Then, he pulled my hair back into a ponytail fastener so that it would be clear of the gag. He looked at me and commented lovingly, “You look so beautiful when you are tied up like that.” His comments were punctuated with a kiss, which although it was at an awkward angle, still contained plenty of tongue and passion. Binding me like this always aroused him in ways nothing else could. My submission was his ultimate pleasure.

With that, he put the gag around my head and into my mouth. He tightened it and stepped back to assess the situation. The smile on his face told me he approved, but it also told me something else. He had another surprise in store for me. His hand reached back to his pocket and pulled out a folded black blindfold. “I thought we’d see what sensory deprivation was like. Are you ok with that?”

I looked at him and saw the love and desire in his eyes. Yes, I was fine with that. I nodded my head in the affirmative, and with my consent, my lover gently slipped the elastic over the back of my head. I was now bound, gagged and blindfolded. I was truly at my Master’s mercy.

I heard my Master moving around to the other side of the bed. Soon, I felt his warm hand gently caressing my ass as he contemplated his first line of attack. Giving into temptation rather quickly, his hand smacked my white bottom, beginning the process we both loved of making my skin quite red from his touch. Again and again he spanked, moving from one side to the other, taking some time to smack the tops of my thighs because he knew I loved being spanked there. He also made sure that he spanked both of my sit spots repeatedly, causing me to squirm on the bed and squeak through the gag to voice my disapproval at one of his favorite tricks.

Eventually the hand spanking stopped, and my Master rubbed my bottom with his hand. He spoke to me, telling me how good I was being in accepting my spanking, not that I had any choice given how he had tied me up.

It was at this point that I decided to let him know that I had figured out how to spit the gag out. As he turned to get another toy from my collection to use on my ass, I spat the gag out and said to him, “You know, I’ve read on Fetlife that spitting out the gag is often a behavior that causes Doms to have to punish their subs.”

Quickly his body flew around to the other side of the bed. “How did you get that out?” he questioned, not really waiting for an answer. He immediately tightened the gag, and this time, my mouth wasn’t going to be escaping from its prison. He then replied to my original statement, “Yes, you definitely deserve some punishment for that behavior. It won’t be tolerated at all in the future!”

With this pronouncement, he returned to the opposite side of the bed and swung the small round leather paddle he had picked up hard on my bottom. The first swat was not a gentle one, but was one which made me strain against the ropes and scream through the gag. “That,” he sternly commented, “Was for being such a naughty sub and even attempting to escape the gag.” A second painful swat came down on the opposite side of my ass resulting in a second comment from him, “And that was for actually succeeding.”

Having let me know he now meant business, my Master begin rhythmically spanking my bottom, giving me a swat here and a swat there. Slowly but surely he was going to turn my ass red, but I never knew which section of my ass was going to be his next target. I couldn’t see what he was doing, and I could only make out a limited amount of his movements through sound.

Though I tried to squirm away from his vigorous attack on my poor bottom as he continued to use the small leather paddle, my struggles were in vain thanks to his excellent knot tying skills. The only real options I had were to accept the consequences of letting him tie me up or to use my safeword. I definitely did not want to do the latter because despite the pain, I was enjoying this entirely too much.

After having turned my bottom a sufficiently dark shade of pink, my Master dropped the paddle on the bed. His hands slowly ran up my back, and bending over carefully, he kissed my back near my neck. Softly he gave me tender kisses along the base of my neck. His love was coming through very clearly even though no words were being spoken.

Running his fingers along the back of my corset had given him another idea. He returned to the toy box to find his favorite toy and one of my least favorites, the crop. I had contemplated burning that damn thing, but I was certain he would buy another if I did. Armed with his favorite toy, he began running the crop up and down my back, teasing those places where the laces left gaps to my open skin. It was sensuous yet torturous because I never knew when those gentle caresses would be replaced by sharp smacks against my inner thighs and on my bottom. As I expected, the temptation of making me screech soon got the best of him, and my Master began alternating his loving trips up and down my spine with painful whacks of the crop. He really enjoyed using the crop on my inner thighs because that was the place where I was most sensitive to its stinging bites.

Eventually he decided that my bottom was starting to fade too much, and he didn’t want that to happen. My Master announced sternly, “It’s time to really start reddening your bottom.” I shuddered to think what that meant since he had been doing a good job spanking me with the little paddle earlier. However, he had the bigger, longer, wider, more painful leather paddle in mind. I felt him gently place the paddle over my entire bottom as he whispered in my ear, “This time, you’re really going to feel its sting.”

With those words of warning, he stood back up at the end of the bed, and he let his first swing take aim at my bottom. OUCH! Despite having warmed me up with his hand and the smaller paddle, the time we had taken off to play with the crop had left me unprepared for the wrath of this paddle, especially when my Master was using it sternly on my ass to make sure I understood fully that he was in charge. He began counting the swats he gave me, spacing them out just far enough from each other to give me the maximum sting yet also to cause the maximum suspense as I waited for the next blow to land.

As he doled out the fifth swat, I began to squirm and squeal. As we got to the tenth swat, I began to cry. Finally, when we let the twelfth swat land on my very sore bottom, I knew I could take no more. I squeaked the dog toy, and he immediately dropped the paddle on the bed. He quickly came around to my head, took off the blindfold, and removed the gag.

“Are you ok?” he asked with great concern in his voice.

“Yes, I will be fine. We just hit my pain limit for all I could handle today,” I responded, sad that I had needed to end things but so glad that he had proven that he would listen to my needs.

He gently wiped the tears from my face and kissed me, gently at first, and then passionately. “I still need to fuck you. Please, will you help me with my erection?” he asked.

“Yes, Master, I would love to let you use my pussy to relieve your hard-on,” I genuinely replied.

He kissed me once more, and then went to the other side of the bed where he untied my legs, but he left my wrists bound. “Kneel up so that your pussy is at the right height for me to fuck you from behind,” he commanded. While he dropped his pants, removed his shirt and boxers, and slipped on a condom, I complied with his orders. I spread my legs apart, making room for his dick to easily penetrate me.

And that it did. My Master’s dick is on the smaller side of average, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. They say good things come in small packages, and that is definitely the case in this situation. My Master is always able to pound my pussy in an amazing way that leaves me howling with pleasure. No other man had ever made me cum the way he could.

Over and over my Master began to thrust, continuing past my first orgasm and waiting for the next one and the one after that to ensue quickly. He did not stop pounding me until I finally begged for mercy, exhausted by the handful of orgasms his thrusting dick had given me. As soon as I gave him the word, he let loose with his load, cumming inside me with a great moan of pleasure.

He collapsed on the bed beside me, and I let my legs down beneath me. My arms were still spread across the bed, my face on the quilt, and my wrists tightly tied. After a few minutes of cuddling next to me, he finally said with a smile, “I suppose you’d like me to untie you now.”

“Yes, Master,” I replied. “It’s been a wonderful session, but I’d like to feel my arms again, please.” He untied my wrists, and once I was free, he allowed me to put my arms around him tightly.

“Thank you,” I whispered into his ear as he tightened our embrace. “Thank you for helping me face my fears. Thank you for respecting my limits. Thank you for loving me the way you do.”

©2017 WoodLeatherLace.com