Hand

The Halloween Party

I had met him online last week on a dating site where his stunning smile had attracted me immediately to his picture. We had messaged for several days before deciding that there was definitely more than enough common ground between the two of us to merit a date. He suggested dinner the next Saturday; I agreed but asked if he’d like to go to a friend’s party after dinner. I let him know that the party invitation specifically stated, “Slutty Halloween costumes more than welcome.” He decided that sounded like his type of party, especially if I was going to wear a slutty outfit for him to enjoy. I told him that I very much planned to.

Saturday night arrived, and I prepared myself for a dinner at a fancy restaurant with my date. I was certainly not wearing my slutty attire to a place of this class and caliber, so I selected an elegant blue dress for the first part of the evening. Underneath, I was wearing a lacy black bra, black fishnet thigh high stockings, a black garter belt, and a pair of lacy black bikini panties. My hair was upswept in a loose bun because I knew that was what I wanted for my costume later; I also knew that it drove men crazy in anticipation of me letting my hair loose later in the evening if the date went well. I slipped on black heels on my way out the door to complete the outfit. I had called a cab to take me to the restaurant figuring that I’d either crash at my friend’s house after the party, or if I was lucky, I’d be letting my date bring me back to my house for post-party “entertainment.”

Dinner went amazingly well. We hit it off like old friends rather than like we were on a first date. The conversation flowed smoothly, and I began flirting with my date fairly early into the evening. I liked this guy a lot. He was good-looking, suave, intelligent, and a perfect gentleman. I also knew underneath all of that public presentation he was a kinky fucker, and that made him extremely attractive to me. At one point during the meal, I let my foot casually rub its way up his leg under the table across from me. The resulting smile on his face told me he was enjoying my teasing. That was a very good sign of things to come.

After he graciously paid the check, we headed out for the party together. As we walked out the door of the restaurant, he put his hand on my lower back, a move that sent pleasurable shivers up my spine. I turned to look at him. He smiled at me in a way that melted me inside and started getting my panties wet. Every move this guy made was making things better than they already were.

The drive to my friend’s house was only a few short minutes. I had brought my costume in my oversized purse with me, and I planned to change upon arrival. However, I knew I was going to need some help getting the corset laces cinched up correctly. After having made perfunctory introduction of my date to the hostess, I told him that I wanted to change in the upstairs bathroom and asked if he would mind helping me get my costume on. The smile on his face made me quiver inside. He slipped his hand into mine and waited for me to lead the way up the stairs.

Once we got to the bathroom, I made the pretense of leaving him outside of the door. “Just give me a minute to get to the point where I need your help,” I told him. While I could see he was disappointed he wasn’t going to get to help with removing my dress, I wanted to save that for later in the night when hopefully things would really heat up between us.

I closed the door and quickly removed my dress and bra, careful not to mess up my hair in the process. I also removed the necklace I had been wearing and placed it in my wallet for safekeeping. I slipped on the very short orange satin skirt with black lace overlay that was part of my costume. Then I put on the matching corset to the best of my ability, though there was no way for me to lace this one by myself. Using one arm to hold the corset against my chest, I opened the door with my other arm.

“Would you like to come in and help with the lacing up now?” I asked my date who was waiting in the hall.

“Holy fuck,” was his reply whispered softly as he took a look at me in my new outfit. The tops of my fishnet thigh highs were showing beneath the very short skirt. His eyes couldn’t help but stare and his hands reached down to touch the lace tops attached to the garter belt straps. He looked up into my eyes, and there was no stopping what happened next. He leaned in to kiss me, slowly and passionately. As the kiss finished, I opened my eyes again, looked at him and smiled. Yes, this was definitely going to be a great relationship.

“How about you come all the way in the bathroom now so we can close the door and finish getting me dressed?” I asked. He gently pushed me back as he closed the door behind us and not so subtly locked it, too. I knew that maneuver meant he had plans to do more than just lace my corset up. After the passionate kiss he had just given me, I was quite willing to engage in almost any other activity he had in mind. This man was hot, and I was even hotter for him. All kinds of ideas were racing through my dirty mind about what I wanted to do with him in this bathroom.

However, my date made the pretense of being a total gentleman. He turned me around gently, and began tightening the black laces on the corset. Occasionally one of his fingers would touch my skin as he pulled the laces tighter resulting in a shiver of pleasure from me. Having tied a bow at the top of the corset, his fingers began gently tracing upwards along my shoulders and onto my neck. I looked up in the mirror and saw him glancing back at me.

“Will you put on my choker for me, too?” I asked, handing it back to him. He pulled the black lace choker around my neck and fastened it in the back, but he quickly returned to his previous task of running his fingers over my shoulders and neck. Then he made the move that always seals the deal for me: he bent down and let his lips kiss my neck, gently, slowly, intentionally. I turned my head away from his, opening up my neck to give him more space to kiss. I could feel my body turning to jelly. The connection between my neck and my pussy was always so powerful.

Finally, I could resist him kissing my neck no longer. I turned around and put my hands on his shoulders, looking into his green eyes. I leaned in to kiss his lips, wanting to feel his tongue in my mouth while his hands roamed on my chest. He moved his hands down to my waist and then to my butt, pulling my entire body closer to him yet never breaking our kiss. I could feel his erection pressing against my abdomen through his black dress slacks.

The temptation was eventually too much. I dropped to my knees and looked up at him. He had a huge smile on his face, so I took that as a sign of consent. I reached up and unzipped his pants, reaching in to find a pair of boxers underneath. Threading my hand through the opening, I pulled out his very erect and very lovely cock. Gazing up at his eyes again, I moved my head towards his cock, and then closed my lips over its soft, delicate head. He gasped and rolled his head back with pleasure.

I began doing what I love to do so much with a hard cock: teasing it slowly and gently with my lips, running my tongue down its shaft, sucking on it, and generally letting it know how much I appreciate it. My date began groaning as I descended on his cock each time, and I could tell he was getting far too close to orgasm. I pulled off of his cock and rapidly pushed it back in his boxers and pants, zipping them and then staring up at him with an evil smirk on my face.

“You tease!” he exclaimed, pulling me to my feet.

“Whatever do you mean?” I mockingly asked him. He kissed me passionately again, and then turned me around so my back was facing him. He pushed my abdomen down over the countertop, which resulted in my ass thrusting out in the air.

“I mean,” he said, “that you are an incredibly naughty girl who deserves to have her bottom spanked for acting like that towards a desperate man.” And with that proclamation, he flipped up my short skirt and landed a very hard smack on my panty-covered ass.

“Ow!” I exclaimed, turning my head back to look at him. “Surely I wasn’t that naughty!”

“Oh, you were that naughty and even more,” he replied, giving the other butt cheek an equally hard slap to match the first one he had given me. I squealed at the sting. He had a very firm hand, and he was just getting started!

I tried to get up from the bent over position he had me in, but his free hand went to the center of my back and pinned me down.

“I don’t think so, young lady,” my date stated in a stern tone. “You have been teasing and taunting me all evening and now you’re going to have to pay the piper.” He could see my smile in the mirror as my eyes stared up at him, and he knew I was totally on board with his game.

“Yes, sir,” I replied. “Just not too loud, please! I don’t want the other guests to hear.”

“Well, if they do hear,” he said, “They’ll just know what a naughty girl you are. That outfit doesn’t leave much to the imagination anyway, so they’ll probably already have their suspicions.” With that pronouncement, he centered himself behind me and pulled down my panties to my knees in one rapid move. I hadn’t expected that boldness from him, but I also wasn’t objecting. I liked an assertive man.

“What a lovely ass,” he commented carefully caressing my naked globes. “It’s marked with two red handprints for some reason, though.”

“I can’t imagine why!” I retorted in a sarcastic tone. His response was to give me two more hard smacks, one on each bare cheek with his hand.

“Ouch!” I cried out again. I grabbed the decorative Halloween hand towel that was sitting next to me and shoved it in my mouth to try and keep from making too much noise. The music from the party was playing loudly, but I didn’t want to give the guests any more hints at what was going on upstairs aside from the smacks they might already be hearing on my poor bottom.

“A sub who willingly gags herself… I like this!” my date expressed. After gently rubbing my bottom again for a few seconds, he returned to giving me a few more hard smacks on each cheek. Wow. This guy was a hard spanker! I pulled the towel out of my mouth to let him know that.

“You have got a really stern hand, sir,” I said, “You don’t mess around when you spank a girl!”

“No, I don’t,” he said, “And from what I can tell, that is exactly the kind of man you need in your life. One who is going to take you in hand and make sure you behave.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied. This was truly what a wanted—a man who wasn’t going to let me get away with tormenting him. A man who was going to flirt with me. A man who was going to spank me. A man who was going to fuck me. It was almost as if my date was reading my mind, because as those thoughts went through my head, his fingers began to delicately run along the outside of my very sensitive and aroused pussy.

“You know,” my date said thoughtfully, “Bathrooms often have great spanking implements in them like bath brushes and hairbrushes. What does your friend keep in hers?”

Shit. I knew for a fact that my friend had a wooden paddle hairbrush in the top drawer of the vanity. She’d shown it to me once after I’d seen some obvious marks on her thighs when we were trying on clothing on a shopping expedition. It was how I learned she was kinky, too. Now that knowledge was about to come back to haunt me on Halloween.

“There’s a hairbrush in the top drawer that is used for spanking,” I reluctantly answered my date.

“Oh, really?” he said. “And do you think your friend would object to it being used on your naughty bottom instead of hers?”

“No, I’m quite sure she wouldn’t,” I replied. “She’s threatened to use it on my ass more than once!”

“Well, then,” my date said, “Please bring me the hairbrush.” With that, he went and sat on the edge of the tub, waiting expectantly for me to fetch his chosen spanking implement. I sighed, stood up, opened the drawer, and pulled out the weapon of doom that was about to redden my bottom even more than it already was. I turned and faced him, hobbling with my panties around my knees for the few short steps over to the edge of the tub where I handed him the brush. I held the hand towel slash gag in my other hand. He then indicated to me that I should lay myself over his lap with my body draped into the tub for stability. I decided to comply.

After having carefully positioned myself on my date’s lap, I shoved the towel back in my mouth. If he was going to use a hairbrush on me, I was going to need it to muffle my screams. I was never one to take a hairbrush to my bottom quietly. My siblings, cousins, parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and past boyfriends could all attest to that! Decades of having my bottom paddled hadn’t made a bit of difference. I still squirmed, squealed, and complained loudly whenever I was being spanked with a hairbrush.

My date laughed at my mock gag. “You seem to think you’re going to get a hard spanking that merits a muzzle,” he joked. “Well, you’re certainly right about that.” And with one fell swoop, the hairbrush landed hard on my bare bottom right over my crack down low near my sit spots.

“OW!” I screamed into my towel, not that it sounded like anything coherent. My sadistic date chuckled at my response and then began a more traditional spanking in earnest. He was an orderly spanker with a hairbrush. He started at the bottom of one thigh, working his way steadily up my butt cheek, over to the other butt check, and down the second thigh. It took him about ten spanks to make the first round with this large paddle brush, much to my dismay. He stopped to inspect his work after these first swats, gently rubbing with the back of the hairbrush on my stinging skin.

“That was definitely a good first pass,” he said. “You scream quite nicely in response to the hairbrush, and that seems quite appropriate for Halloween. I want to make sure I get your thighs nice and red, though, before I stop. I want guests to see your red thighs just below that sexy skirt of yours so that they can know what happens to naughty girls like you when they are taken in hand.” And with that, he began another round of spanking my thighs and bottom while I began another round of screaming into the towel.

The second round of smacks was much harder than the first, and they gave the results that my date wanted to see. He let me know, “I’m just going to give your thighs a few more hard smacks to make them extra red. I don’t want to spank you too much now as I plan to spank you again after the party when I take you home.” Something inside me quivered at the promise of more spanking later. This was the kind of date I lived for.

However, before that promised spanking, I had to make it through this one. My date gave each thigh another five hard swats with the brush before he set it down next to him on the tub. He rubbed my backside with one hand and removed the towel from my mouth with his other hand.

“I’m done spanking you for now,” he informed me.

“Yes, sir,” I responded, remaining on his lap. I had been trained by previous Doms not to get up until I had permission, something my date was appreciating now. His one hand now touched my shoulders while the other hand crawled up my inner thighs to my pussy. He stuck two fingers inside of me; they slid in quite easily as the foreplay had gotten me quite wet.

“Wow. You really like being spanked, don’t you, Young Lady?” he asked almost rhetorically.

“Yes, sir. I’m a slutty girl who likes to be punished and fucked,” I replied.

“You don’t say?” he responded. “Well then, stand up now so I can work on the fucking you part now that I’ve spanked you.” A smile came to my face. That had been easier to manipulate than I expected. I stood up and looked at my date in the eyes. He also stood up and began kissing me again.

“Put the hairbrush away and then bend over the counter again,” he ordered me. I did as I was instructed, but I also pulled out a condom from the drawer while I was in there. I checked the expiration date and then handed it to my man. I was sure my friend wouldn’t mind me using that either!

As I bent over the counter again, I watched my date in the mirror.  He smiled back at me as he unfastened his belt, dropped his pants and boxers, and then slipped the condom over his rock-hard cock. He moved forward towards me, lifting up my skirt once more, and rapidly plunging deep inside my pussy which was so wet that lube was in no way necessary.

Quite quickly, my partner began thrusting inside of me. I loved seeing his facial expressions in the mirror as his hands held onto my hips, pushing against them with each thrust. Soon, though, all I could focus on was the intense pleasure manifesting in my pussy. Orgasm was not going to take long at all after a spanking like that.

Once again, I grabbed a hand towel to use as a gag, this time to muffle my screams of pleasure instead of my yelps of pain. My groans were still coming through the fabric, though, and my date could tell I was getting close. He kept accelerating his thrusts, his balls loudly slapping against my pussy loudly as the intensity increased. His moans became vocal, too. I let out a scream that the towel couldn’t muffle as he pushed me over the edge into a full-throttle orgasm. Knowing I had reached climax, he let loose, and with a few more thrusts, he had reached orgasm, too.

I looked up in the mirror to see his face smiling with post-orgasmic pleasure. He could see the same look on my face. He stepped back carefully, grabbing some toilet paper to catch the condom which was beginning to work its way off of his softening cock. I began to stand up but he commanded me, “Don’t move!”

I couldn’t help but wonder what he had in mind now. After disposing of the condom and redressing himself, my date walked over to me and slapped my still red bottom a few more times.

“Ow!” I cried out. “Do you normally reward orgasms with spankings?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “But I just wanted to remind you that there is going to be more spanking later after the party. And more fucking, too.” With that, he gave each of my reddened thighs a few more hard slaps to perk up their color and then began pulling up my panties over my garter. He flipped down my skirt, stood me up, and turned me to face him. As we gazed into each other’s eyes, he moved forward and kissed me passionately once more. This guy was going to be a lot of fun.

As we pulled apart from the kiss, I slipped on the black satin gloves I had brought to complete my outfit. I also shoved an orange and black fake flower into my hair. With my dress and bra shoved in my purse, we headed downstairs to join the festivities. I wonder if anyone would notice how long it had taken me to change. My friend’s laughing smile and knowing glance told me she had. She came over and whispered in my ear, “I want to hear that story later!” I laughed and nodded my head in assent. I looked forward to telling her what had happened in her bathroom… plus whatever else was going to happen later after the party when my date and I got back to my place for completely uninhibited fun.

©2017 WoodLeatherLace.com

The Nooner

(At long last! A M/F spanking and sex story that has taken me months to complete. Based on true events though no names are used to protect the very obviously guilty.)

My new boyfriend had a great deal of flexibility in his schedule since he worked from home as a computer programmer. He took advantage of that freedom to shift his work schedule to his natural bio-rhythms, sleeping in until 11 a.m. or noon every day but working until late in the night. He had also just moved into a new apartment, one that he hadn’t had the opportunity to christen yet with a sexual partner.

I kept a more traditional 9-5 work schedule because of my career; I traveled between locations locally meeting with clients while doing my job. One particular Monday, I had several last-minute cancellations for the next day on my schedule that left me with a big block of open time in the middle of the day. My last appointment before the free time was not far from my boyfriend’s apartment. I looked at that opening and thought to myself that it had a great deal of potential for some mid-day fun, so I sent a text to my boyfriend asking him, “Any interest in a nooner to christen your place tomorrow?”

The reply quickly came back: “Um, yes? Is there any other answer to that question?”

I was already fairly certain that his response would be an affirmative, but I laughed at his incredible willingness. We sent a series of texts working out the details. I would show up on his doorstep at 11 the next day, ready and willing for whatever fun might arise.  Part of me was a bit nervous about this plan for one reason: since I had learned how to have incredibly pleasurable but also incredibly loud orgasms, I hadn’t had sex with a man who lived in multi-family housing. Thus, I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to restrain my screams for the sake of the neighbors. Still, I wasn’t about to turn down this opportunity based on that fear.

The next day I found myself at his front door with a cloth grocery bag of sex toys. The crop wouldn’t quite fit in, but no one was really around outside so I wasn’t too worried about what the neighbors were seeing. As I knocked on the door, my boyfriend opened it to greet me with a kiss. He was as happy to see me as I was to see him. However, he was also in morning mode, and he was in need of his coffee. I kicked off my shoes and made myself at home on the family room couch while he went in pursuit of his heavenly nectar. He had just gotten out of the shower and was still waking up.

We chatted while he loaded the coffee pot, but we quickly began kissing again on his couch while his coffee brewed. I was quite happy to see him, and he seemed equally excited (ahem) by the prospect of what was happening between us. When the coffee finished, he stopped kissing me to go grab his cup and fill it. While I knew how much the coffee meant to him, I wasn’t really in the mood for him to take time to drink it. I wanted to have sex. Desperately.

When he returned to couch to drink his coffee, I pounced on him as soon as he set the mug safely on the side table. The few seconds he had been gone had been too long. My tongue was rapidly inside his coffee-flavored mouth, and his hands quickly moved to my hips as I slid my body onto his lap. He pulled me close and returned my kisses with his, letting his left hand wander up to my breasts amidst the passion.  After a few minutes of this intense interaction, my boyfriend pushed me away to give himself a bit of space to grab his mug and take a long drink. Then he turned back to me.

“I have morning wood we need to take care of. You seem like you’re ready to help me what that issue.” A big smile crossed my face. I was definitely ready to help relieve his erection. My boyfriend took one more gulp of his coffee and then lifted me up off the couch and led me toward his bedroom. As we got into the bedroom, he pulled me close again and put his hands on my cheeks. A gentle kiss was followed by more sex talk.

“I want to make you cum,” he said emphatically, “but until we deal with this morning wood, I can’t think about anything else. You’re going to have to help me before I can help you.” With many men, I would think this was a line to get his and then leave me hanging. However, I knew my boyfriend was good to his word. He loved making me cum. He truly needed release, and I was more than ok with that. I put my arms around his shoulders, kissed him again, and then nodded my consent.

With that, my boyfriend couldn’t wait any longer. He began taking off his clothing while I removed mine in a rapid fashion. This wasn’t a sensuous undressing. It was desperation and desire. The goal was to be naked with our bodies pressed together as soon as possible. It only took a few seconds before we had achieved that goal, our lips and tongues again touching while my hands stroked his now naked cock that was definitely as hard as he had promised it would be.

Meanwhile, my boyfriend fumbled around on the nightstand, trying to find the condom and lube while still kissing me. He finally gave up at multitasking, pushing me onto the bed and onto my back. He opened the condom and slipped it on skillfully, squirting some lube onto it and then ordering me to spread my legs so he could put some lube on my pussy as well. I happily complied. Now prepared for what he truly wanted to do, my boyfriend slipped his sheathed cock inside my pussy, and I wrapped my legs around his legs. Missionary is one of the worst positions for me in terms of cumming, but I still love it for the intimacy it provides while watching my lover reach his climax. My partner knew that, and he was happy to put on a show for me as he worked through the motions of reaching orgasm, thrusting and pounding inside me, moaning louder and louder as he finally released his load. When he collapsed on top of me in exhaustion and relief, I ran my hands through his long hair and held him close, listening to his breathing and feeling his sweat on his body. I loved the feeling of my man lying on my body post-orgasm.

Eventually, he regained his wits, and my boyfriend scooted off of me onto the bed with a smile. He removed the condom and put it on a tissue on the nightstand, and then moved back to me to kiss me and pull me close, both of us laying on our sides and facing each other. Now that the animalistic fucking was out of the way, the sex could finally begin between us.

Among the toys that my boyfriend was anxious to use that day was an underbed bondage set. He had bought it since his headboard wasn’t bondage friendly but he very much wanted to include bondage in his bedroom. He had already installed the straps under the mattress and had the cuffs waiting for my wrists and ankles. He gave my bottom a smack and ordered me, “Roll over on your stomach in the center of the bed so that I can tie you up and give you the spanking you deserve for being such a naughty girl and having sex with your boyfriend in the middle of a work day.”

Eager to comply, I placed a pillow on the center of the bed, and then I moved onto my stomach over the pillow while he stood next to the bed. He started with my right wrist, securing the hand in the restraint. He progressed down to the right ankle, binding it tightly as well. Next, my boyfriend scooted around the king-sized bed, cinching up my left ankle and finally immobilizing me completely by putting my leftt wrist into the restraint. I tried to wiggle, but he had me very tightly bound which is exactly what he wanted. He then pulled on my ponytail, forcing my eyes to look into his.

“You’re now totally under my command. You have no choice but to submit to what I’m going to do to you.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I replied. He was right. At this point, I was his willing prisoner, anxious to see what he had in mind for our kinky fuckery that day.

He didn’t keep me waiting long as he released my hair and then grabbed a blindfold from his nightstand which he slipped over my eyes. Now I couldn’t move and I couldn’t see. The kinky suspense was building, and I was loving every minute of it. He traced his hands down my back and onto my bottom where he gently caressed my naked globes, his fingers meandering closer and closer to my asshole. He had a fondness for sticking his fingers in my ass without warning, an action I loved but that was not to be this time. Instead, he slapped my bottom briskly and then moved off the bed.

I could hear him rustling around in the shopping bag I had brought. What was he looking for? He’d given me a very specific list of things to bring that included his favorite toys of mine including that damn riding crop which I hated but he loved. Still, I was his submissive, and I was going to do what he asked of me, so I brought the crop. The noises from the bag stopped, and then I heard the lid pop open on the lube that was already on his nightstand. Since he had thoroughly lubed up my pussy earlier before he fucked it, I knew that could mean only one thing: he was about to insert the large butt plug I had brought along.

Sure enough, I felt the cold lube dripping down my crack as my boyfriend whispered in my ear, “Are you ready to take the butt plug like a good girl, Little One?”

“Yes, sir. Please put the butt plug in my naughty ass,” was my desperate reply. I loved having the butt plug inserted, and he knew it. It was a power trip for him to use my ass however he wanted, but he also got off on knowing that I wanted him to use me anally. Slowly I felt the very cold glass pressing into my ass, slipping gently in until it hit the point of resistance. Then, suddenly, there was the painful pop that always made me moan from a combination of pain and pleasure as the plug moved past my sphincter and all the way into my bottom. I tried to wiggle a bit as my boyfriend adjusted the plug to his liking, but there was no hope. He had me cinched tightly, so the wiggling of my bottom was all I could accomplish. My boyfriend took that as a sign that he needed to start spanking me.

“Hold still!” Daddy commanded as he smacked each side of my butt with his bare hand.

“Ow!” I responded to his sharp and unexpected spanks.

“Well,” he said, “If you’re not a cooperative little girl, then Daddy is going to spank you for not behaving. You should know this by now.”

I sighed. “Yes, Daddy,” and with that verbal acceptance, my boyfriend continued the spanking he had started. He was peppering my bottom thoroughly with spanks from his strong hand, occasionally letting the spanks fall onto my upper thighs which he knew was a turn on for me. As he spanked, I tried to hold still, but I was wiggling a bit. A girl can’t help it when her Daddy is reddening her bottom!

“Ok, Little One, I think you’ve had enough of a warm up. It’s time to punish you for having mid-day sex with your boyfriend like a naughty little slut,” he informed me.

“You do realize the irony of you spanking me for that…” I pointed out. He responded with a smack from an implement which elicited a yelp from me in return.

“Yes, but I’m not worried about logic at this point,” he said. “I’m more concerned with punishing your naughty bottom. Now tell me what it is I’m using on your bottom right now,” he commanded as he gave me several more swats.

“That’s the wooden hairbrush,” I replied.

“Correct!” He rewarded my answer with several more smacks of the hairbrush scattered around my bottom and thighs which more than got my attention.

“Daddy, I’ll be good,” I began promising.

“I very much doubt that!” he stated as he continued spanking. “This was your idea to come over here like a naughty girl and have sex with me in the middle of the day. That’s not the sign of a girl who plans to behave!”

“Ok, true,” I agreed with a laugh. “But I promise I’ll only misbehave with you, Daddy!”

“I’m ok with that,” he chuckled, “But I’m still going to keep spanking you.” And true to his word, I got several more swats with the hairbrush before I heard its wood clank against the nightstand when he set it down. However, I was certain that I wasn’t free from being spanked. Sure enough, another implement soon hit my tender bottom.

“Ouch!” I cried out. I heard my boyfriend chuckling with sadistic pleasure. He enjoyed spanking me every bit as much as I like having him spank me.

“So what am I using on your ass now, Little Girl?” he asked.

“The small leather paddle,” I replied.

“Correct!” he responded, and he rewarded my correct answer with a series of swats moving up one side and down the other of my bottom and legs.

“Daddy,” I began begging again, “I don’t think you need to spank me anymore.”

Suddenly the spanking stopped and I felt him jerk my head upward using my ponytail as a handle. He began talking directly into my ear.

“Who gets to decide when your spanking is finished?” he asked.

“You do, Daddy,” I replied with a semi-defiant sigh which was rewarded by a crack of the paddle on my ass while his other hand continued pulling my head back by its ponytail.

“That’s right, young lady,” he said, “And I am definitely not done spanking you yet. I am also not done fucking you either.”

With that, he released my head. I heard him putting down the paddle and picking up his next choice for torturing me. He began running it up and down my spine, moving past the butt plug and onto my pussy.

“That’s the damn crop!” I said even before he asked me.

“Correct again!” he replied, rewarding my unrequested answer with a sharp crack of the crop on my sit spot.

“OUCH!” I hollered out, and he laughed at my pain.

“It’s always so much fun to crop you,” he added. “So little work on my part and so much screaming on yours.”

I continued yelping and he continued randomly striking my bottom and thighs with the crop. Because he had my legs tightly stretched and bound, that meant the sensitive insides of my thighs were easily accessible with the crop, a situation he was happy to take advantage of. After quite a few targeted slaps to this most sensitive zone, I finally heard the crop set down on the nightstand.

“I’m ready to fuck you again,” he stated factually. “I’m going to loosen your legs so that you can get up on your knees with your butt in the air. I’m going fuck you from behind while your face is in the bed and your pussy is spread and open just for me.”

With that, he did as he had promised, loosening up the leg restraints just enough for me to get on my knees but not to move an inch more. I wasn’t going to be going anywhere he didn’t want me. I still had the blindfold on, a butt plug up my ass, a red bottom, and a very wet pussy. After getting me in the position he wanted me in, I heard him opening another condom from off of the nightstand, and then I assumed he was slipping it on his cock which was likely rock hard again after all of the kinky foreplay.

I felt the bed shift as he climbed back onto it. The next thing I knew, he was pulling the butt plug out of my ass. From previous sessions, he knew it was too uncomfortable for me when he vaginally fucked me in this position while the glass butt plug was still in, and pain was not the goal at this point. Instead, my boyfriend now wanted me to experience pure pleasure.

It didn’t take long for him to accomplish his goal. He plunged his cock deep into my wet pussy which caused me to call out loudly, “Oh, Daddy!” He laughed at my response, and he took it as a sign that I wanted more of the same. He continued thrusting his cock in and out of me, quickly causing my moans to get very loud. He already had me so aroused that it wasn’t going to take long before I burst into orgasm. With a few more powerful thrusts, I reached that point, screaming out, “Daddy! Oh, Daddy!” as I came. I tried to let my knees drop after the orgasm, but he stopped me with a sharp smack from his hand on my already reddened bottom.

“Did I tell you that you could change position?” he demanded.

“No, Daddy,” I truthfully responded.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to punish you for that, too,” he retorted, as if that wasn’t already part of his evil plan. I felt his still hard cock slipping out of my pussy, the arousal fluid and remaining lube dripping down my legs. My boyfriend stepped off the bed again, this time moving up to my right hand. He loosened the restraints on my wrist just enough for me to prop myself up; he repeated the same action on my left hand, too. I was now on my hands and knees with my red butt in the air and my blindfolded eyes facing the headboard. The only question was what he had planned next.

I soon found out as the mini-floggers came down on my bottom. I had one and he had one, so he liked putting one mini-flogger in each hand and thrashing my bottom with both, using one after the other in a rhythmic beating. He always started slowly, building up the pain and pleasure from the floggers’ bites. He was very good at using those floggers on me, better than anyone else who had ever tried. I was soon moaning both from pleasure and stinging pain as he repeatedly struck my sore ass, turning me on even more than I already was.

Suddenly, the flogging on my bottom stopped. Out of nowhere, he began flogging my shoulders. This was new and completely unexpected. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Did I like it? Did I not? Once the shock of the novelty wore off, I decided that I preferred him flogging my ass, but the flogging of my shoulders made an interesting alternative. I requested, “Daddy, please flog my ass more,” and he happily complied, striking my bottom in rhythm with the music he had playing in the background.

When he could tell I was getting close to my breaking point, my boyfriend stopped the flogging. He dropped the implements on the bed, and then his hands began caressing my ass, a feeling I truly loved. His strong hands on my stinging ass were truly a treat. But he still wasn’t done with me. I felt him moving behind me once again, and then his cock suddenly plunged in my ass which was already lubed and waiting because of the butt plug I had been wearing earlier.

After all of the intense spanking foreplay, the anal sex was powerful in a way I had never experienced. I quickly began screaming with pleasure, “Oh God, Oh God, OH GOD!” as his cock pounded in and out of my ass, his abdomen slamming against my tender cheeks. I could tell my screams were only turning him on more, as he began pounding even harder and faster, bringing me to the brink of orgasm and then finally pushing me over in one of the most powerful orgasms I have ever had. As I came, I kept screaming, “Daddy! Oh God, Daddy!” The orgasm seemed like it went on for half of forever, and my pleasure pushed my boyfriend over the edge. I could hear his moans building until suddenly, he too found release. His body stiffened as his load released in my ass. We both held still for a few minutes until collapse seemed like the only option for us.

He released one of my legs and one of my arms from the restraints so I could lay on my side; he cuddled up behind me with his arm over my sweating and satisfied body. His heavy breathing was on my neck which his lips also gently brushed. I took off the blindfold and snuggled up closer to him, feeling his exhausted body pressing against mine.

One we had both recovered from the amazing orgasms we had just shared with each other, my boyfriend quipped, “I guess all the neighbors now know that my name is either Daddy or God.”

“Oh, God!” I exclaimed once again. “I was so lost in the play that I completely forgot we were in an apartment complex. I’m so sorry I was screaming so loudly.”

He laughed loudly and said, “Hey, remember? I’m an exhibitionist. I’m totally proud of the fact that my neighbors now know I can make a woman cum so hard that she screams the way you did.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” I giggled. I used my free hand to release my other hand, and then I released my one remaining restrained ankle. I rolled over so I could nuzzle my lover and kiss his lips again. My hands went to his beard, caressing and touching it with gratitude and pleasure after all we’d just shared.

Eventually we accepted that we needed to get on with our day, no matter how lovely the “nooner” had been. Four hours after I arrived and really needing to head to my last appointment of the day, I was finally leaving his place from what was supposed to be a one or two-hour fuck session. Considering our first time in bed together had lasted eight hours, we clearly were not  a couple for quickies. Even on the way out the door, we still had our hands and lips all over each other.

As I stepped onto the front porch, I turned back and put my arms around my lover’s shoulders. I gave him a deep kiss, and he returned the kiss. Something felt wrong, though. It took me a couple of kisses before I realized what it was.

“I’m not wearing any shoes,” I suddenly said to my boyfriend.

He looked down at my feet. “No, you’re not,” he laughed. “Maybe you should come back in and fix that problem.” And so I came back in his apartment, slipped on the shoes I had kicked off by the door on the way in, and headed back out the door for a second goodbye.

“You know it was a really great session when your boyfriend fucks you so well that forget to put on your shoes when you leave,” I said as I smiled and laughed. With that, I gave him one final kiss and headed back to my car with my bag of sex toys to face the real world again.

©2017 WoodLeatherLace.com

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