Random Memories

Playing Too Hard, Part 2

(continued from Part 1)

(content warning: childhood abuse)

After a playful spanking session with my newbie partner, I ended up with unintentional bruises and welts which hurt and lasted for several days. I was pretty upset by the whole situation even though I knew my partner hadn’t intentionally caused physical damage. However, my emotional state told me something was wrong. Very wrong.

It took several days of thinking about it, but I finally let myself go there, into the dark recesses of my mind where my worst memories are stored. I thought about how familiar this pain was. That was a frontier I hadn’t wanted to cross into. I really didn’t want to know what I was remembering, and yet I was going there even though I didn’t want to.

I finally admitted to myself that I knew this pain from a too vigorous spanking because I’d endured it many times before in my childhood. The abusive spankings from my father left me feeling this sore for hours and days afterward. As far as I remember, they were given with his hand only, but clearly on my small childhood frame, they were long enough and hard enough to be physically damaging.

As I child, I had never looked to see if I had marks. I was afraid of being caught looking at my own body. I’d been taught that my body was shameful and whatever behavior I’d done (or my parents thought I had done) to “earn” the abusive spankings was equally shameful. As a result, if I had been physically marked as a child from the abuse, I had never seen it on my own body. However, my body remembered. It knew this feeling. It recognized the pain.

For most of my adult life, I was unwilling to admit I was abused as a child. In more recent years, I’ve always consoled myself that part of the reason that I couldn’t say I was abused was because my parents never used implements on me and never left me bruised or welted. It turns out that at least part of my rationalization was not true, and I have been forced to quit denying the truth. There was no chance my body was lying to me about the pain I was feeling. I was bruised during many spankings in my childhood. I was abused.

Unfortunately, I didn’t feel I could talk to my sexual partner about what had happened to me mentally and emotionally after we played too hard. I just didn’t have the kind of trust in him and our relationship wasn’t deep enough. I talked to my therapist a bit, but not a lot. I am not out to her as kinky, so I only talked in terms of saying that I realized finally that the abuse was more violent than I previously had been willing to admit to myself.

I am still not sure what to do with the knowledge I gained from this session where my partner and I played too hard. I have had sex since then, but not kinky sex, and I’m not sure how I will be able to approach sexual spanking with my next kinky lover having this new yet old knowledge fully in my consciousness now.

I also don’t know if I’ll ever know the full truth of the abuse I endured as a child. My mind has repressed a lot of the worst of it. I also don’t think I really want to know any more details about what I endured. There’s a reason my mind has hidden it from me. What I know is hard enough to cope with. The more I learn, the harder it is for me to handle.

However, I now know why I don’t want to be marked or bruised, and I can let partners definitively know it brings up too much trauma from my abusive childhood. Most of my partners have been understanding about not wanting to retraumatize me and have been good about working to make our sex lives as positive as possible for both of us. I wish we didn’t have that obstacle to work around because the actual spanking session with my previous partner was a lot of fun while we were playing. The aftermath was just too triggering. Unfortunately, though, this is part of my reality that I now must face and so must my future partners.

©2018 WoodLeatherLace.com

Spanking Survey, Part 10

This post is a continuing series of spanking survey questions, now moving to questions about spankings as an adult. Previous parts are here: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.

Do you find the thought of getting spanked by your partner sexually exciting? Um, hell yeah!

Do you find the thought of spanking your partner sexually exciting? Not really, but I’ve never experienced it. I’d be open to spanking a partner once or twice if he wanted to see whether it works for me. I think this is one of those things that there’s a possibility I will like more once I try it, but until I have that experience, I can’t be certain.

What is your favorite thing about spanking? Do I have to pick one thing? I love the threats of being put over his knee. I love the anticipation. I love the lecture before it starts. I love being ordered to pull down my panties or I love being told I don’t deserve to pull down my panties because I’ve been a naughty girl so my spanker has to do it for me. I love the feeling of being put over his lap. I love the feel of his hand on my bottom as he continues lecturing me. I love the nervous waiting for that first strike to happen. I love when he makes the first spank unexpectedly. I love the heat and pain building in my bottom. I love never knowing where the next spank will land. I love not knowing how he’s going to spank me or where he’s going to spank me or what he is going to spank me with. I love being lectured throughout the spanking. I love him deciding whether or not I’m repentant enough or not to stop. And most importantly, I love him telling me that I’ve been a good girl in taking my spanking so well and giving me the aftercare I need to know that the spanking has cleansed my guilt and made me a good girl again.

Do your friends know you are a spanko? Only men I have dated or had sex with. Even therapists have only known that I am kinky but not exactly what that kink involves. A few close friends know I met some of the men I dated on Fetlife, but they don’t know the details of what we did in the bedroom.

Do you self spank? No. I want someone else to do it. I have tried on occasions in the past, and my self-preservation instinct is too high. I’ll give myself one good swat and then my brain says, “Nope. No more.” The kinky side of my brain that wants it can’t override the self-preservation side.

What is your least favorite spanking implement? Of the implements that I have experienced, rope. A top used hemp rope on me without my consent, and he also struck on my lower back in the “no strike zone.” Even if you take those factors away, holy cow. It was very stingy and very whippy. I would only accept a few strokes of it for a serious punishment and only on my bottom. This is followed by the crop being used like a cane. I’m not a fan of whippy instruments.

Would you describe yourself as a rule follower or a rule breaker? I generally am a rule follower. I don’t speed, I don’t do drugs, I have never been to jail, I’ve never shoplifted, I don’t lie… keeps me out of trouble.

Have you ever spanked a partner? No, but I am open to doing so in the future.

Do you want to be threatened with spankings? Definitely! I’d love to have a partner whisper in my ear when we were out in public that he plans to roast my bottom that evening. Or I would love to have him send me texts throughout the day reminding me of what is going to happen to my bottom in another 5 hours.

Do you like being lectured? Yes, very much so. I’m very verbally oriented, so I like hearing my partner telling me what I’ve “done wrong” and how he’s going to punish me for it. The words are as important as the actions.

Would you like an all day spanking day? Yes, I’d love to do this sometime, especially at an isolated cabin in a rural area where the spankings could be interspersed with walks in the woods (for spankings in the outdoors) and trips to swim nude in a creek or lake followed by wet-bottom outdoor spankings.

What sex do you prefer to be spanked by? Men. I’m heterosexual, and since spanking is sexual for me, it’s my partners I want to be spanked by.

Would you ever see a dominatrix? Yes, despite the previous answer. I have a fantasy that involves doing this. I’d love my partner to take me to a dominatrix to punish me while he watched and then to have him comfort me when she was done. I think it would be a really fun birthday or anniversary present to us.

Where do you like being spanked besides your butt? My breasts, my pussy, the backs of my thighs, my inner thighs, and my feet. I’ve been flogged on my upper shoulders and while it’s an interesting sensation and experience, it wasn’t really erotic for me the way other areas of my body are. I consider a spanking incomplete if the back of my thighs haven’t been spanked.

Who do you like to pull down your pants and underwear? Generally speaking, I like my partner to do it as part of my submission to him. As a naughty little girl, I don’t get the privilege of doing it myself. I like being ordered to take them down but resisting until he is forced to do it for me (and punish me for not complying).

When you get spanked as an adult, do you cry? Have you ever been spanked to tears? I have not cried during a spanking as an adult, but I also have not experienced an incredibly intense spanking either. I would very much like my next serious partner to be able to develop enough trust with me so we can take spankings to this level of intensity.

Have you had a birthday spanking as an adult? Yes, more than one. I’ve also willingly taken my Doms’ birthday spankings for them.

Have you ever been spanked in the workplace? No.

Would you ever want to be spanked in the workplace? Maybe? Under the right circumstances when no one else is in the building and there’s next to no chance of getting caught. Public sex/spanking really isn’t my thing. I don’t really see this ever being something that happens for me.

Have you ever been spanked in a cemetery? No. I’d consider it in a rural area.

Have you ever been spanked in a church? No, not as a child or an adult. I’d love to be spanked in some old church ruins in a rural British area. That seems totally appropriate.

Have you been spanked on a wet bottom? Not as an adult. It’s on my list of things to do.

My mother gave me one wet bottom spanking that I remember as a child, but I was so shocked and traumatized that I was even getting spanked that I don’t think I noticed a difference as to if it was more painful or not.

Have you ever asked anyone but a partner for a spanking? Not yet.

How old were you when you got your first spanking as an adult? In my thirties. I don’t know exactly how old I was.

How long has it been since you got spanked as an adult? Way too fucking long.

Do you ever try to get a spanking? Yes, I am a total brat to urge my Doms to spank me. They know when I’m asking for a funishment.

Do you find spankings embarrassing as an adult? Talking about my childhood spankings, yes. That’s part of why I have been blogging about them to try to break down some of the pain and shame associated with them

Getting a spanking from my partner as an adult in private? Definitely not. I enjoy them and need them. 

Did you get spanked on your wedding day/night? No, not from family nor from husband. I suspect my dad wanted to give me a disciplinary spanking a few days before the wedding because he was frustrated that I wasn’t doing what he wanted related to the wedding. He didn’t, and things would not have been good if he had tried as I was a legal adult at that point. It would have ended our strained relationship permanently.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get a romantic one from my husband either. If/when I remarry, I am going to make sure my new husband knows that being spanked on my wedding day is a priority. I wouldn’t mind walking down the aisle with a red bottom, and I wouldn’t mind a reprise in the honeymoon suite!

(continue on to part eleven)

©2018 WoodLeatherLace.com

The Lube Cabinet

Once when I was having sex with a man on our first date, we reached the juncture where lube was needed. I grabbed my bag of lubes for our use. He took one look at it and said, “Wow. You have more types of lube than most people have kinds of booze in their liquor cabinets. I like you!”

(I only had five bottles of four different kinds… in that particular bag anyway! 🙂 )

©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 7

This post is a continuing series of spanking survey questions about my childhood. Previous parts are here: one, two, three, four, five, six.

Did you ever volunteer for a spanking when you were a child by confessing something naughty you had done but your parents didn’t know about? No, I never volunteered for a spanking even when I knew I was guilty because my parents’ spankings were so horrible.

Did your parents ever let you choose a spanking versus another punishment option? Did you ever request a spanking over a grounding or other punishment? My parents never let me choose a punishment, and I never would have asked for a spanking over grounding. I wasn’t grounded often because after my parents stopped spanking me, I generally just stayed out of trouble. I can only remember being grounded once for something that no child should be grounded for, and my mother did that in a very sick, very twisted way that defies description. She was a very emotionally abusive woman.

Were you ever involved in a group spanking where many kids were spanked at once for the same “crime”? No, nor did I ever witness one.

Did your parents ever give you the warning of “If you don’t do X by the count of three, you’re getting a spanking. 1…”? How high did your parents count before giving you a spanking?  My parents counted to 3, and then they spanked on the spot. Often there was no warning before the spanking. Some friends’ parents counted to 5. I remember being at one friend’s house and having a parent of theirs threaten to count to 10. I remember thinking, “They get until 10? Wow. That’s a lot of time to comply.”

Did you ever volunteer to take the blame and the spanking for a sibling or a friend? I never did and never would have because my parents were so violent. It never came up as an option either. As an adult, though, I willingly take my Doms’ birthday spankings for them. 🙂

Did you ever do something stupid as a result of a bet with someone when you were young and then got spanked for it? No. I was a sensible kid who was more likely the one to tell others not to do something stupid.

Did you ever tell your parents that the spanking didn’t hurt?  I’d bet almost all kids make this mistake once and only once because then the parent follows up with a spanking that they make sure really does hurt. I did this, I’m sure. I just don’t remember the exact details around it. I am sure it was after getting a warning spank that ended up in a “real” spanking, though.

When you were a child, were you ever sentenced to several spankings on consecutive days for the same event (such as a spanking every night for a week for unruly behavior)?  Mercifully, no, I never received anything like this as a child.

Would you ever want to be spanked again by one of your parents as an adult? Hell no!

As an adult, have you talked to your parents or your siblings about your childhood spankings? No. We don’t have that kind of relationship.

Did you ever wish for another adult to spank you as a child than the ones that already did? The thought never crossed my mind. I assumed all spankings were horrible and violent and I wouldn’t have wanted one of those from someone I loved or I wanted to love me.

Did you masturbate after your spankings as a child? No. I grew up in a Catholic home where I was taught masturbation was a sin. I also was not aroused after my childhood spankings at all. I was traumatized.

Do you find you have an attraction to spanking porn/art/erotica/photos from the era when you were a child? I do. I like 1970s and 1980s spanking erotica, probably because I was spanked in those eras as a child.

Have you recreated any of your childhood spankings as an adult during roleplay? No, not yet. I would possibly consider doing some reparenting therapy/roleplay once I have a trusted partner. It’s going to take a lot of trust for this to ever happen, though.

Did you ever make a New Year’s resolution to get less spankings the next year? It wasn’t a resolution as much as a major hope as a child that I would get spanked less (hopefully never!) the next year. Since I didn’t feel like I had control over when and why I got spanked because spankings weren’t tied to my behavior, it wasn’t something I could resolve to change.

As an adult, though, I’m always hoping the next year brings lots more fun spanking with a wonderful lover!

Do you have the spanking implements that were used on you as a child and are they used on you as an adult? My parents only used their hands most of the time, so no, I don’t have those!

(continue on to part eight)

©2017 WoodLeatherLace.com

Standing at the Intersection

(This is a random memory of a past lover. His name has been changed to protect his identity though he certainly isn’t innocent!)

I had just begun dating a new lover. We had only been out a few times, and we’d always ended up back at my place due to logistics. When an opportunity popped up for me to go over to his place for the evening, we decided to take advantage of it. He had only told me the largest intersection he lived near; he hadn’t given me an exact address yet because I hadn’t needed it.

As we texted in preparing for the date, I asked him if I could get the exact address where he lived. I told him that I could go to the big intersection near his house and stand there and call out, “Hey! Does anyone know where Mark lives? I want to go over to his place so he can fuck me in the ass.” However, I was convinced that I would suddenly meet a lot of guys named “Mark” at that point.

My lover agreed that not only would I meet a lot of men named Mark, but in his neighborhood, I would meet a lot of men named Marcos, too!

Thankfully, he gave me his exact address so I didn’t have to go stand in the intersection looking for him. I found his place easily, and he did an excellent job of fucking me in the ass. I’m guessing people at that nearby intersection probably got to hear my screams of pleasure when he did! 🙂

©2017 WoodLeatherLace.com

Spanking Survey, Part 6

This post is a continuing series of spanking survey questions about my childhood. This one drained me emotionally to write, so it’s taken longer to get on paper since I could only handle a little at a time. Previous parts of the survey are here: one, two, three, four, five.

Did you hear spanking threats? Yes, as a child and as an adult. I probably heard them far more often as a child than I actually remember. What’s below are just the ones I can recall because they were memorable for various reasons.

One day I was at a neighbor’s house for lunch. We were probably both about five. His mother was one of the only ones in the neighborhood who worked outside of the home, so he and his sister had a nanny. She was a grandmother type, though she always seemed crabby to me. I forget what he did or said, but she picked up a wooden spoon and started to threaten him. He didn’t get the spanking, but I am certain she spanked him with the spoon on many other occasions!

Another time I was over at a friend’s house. We were both around 6 or 7. I have no recollection of what transpired before the threat, but her father was sitting in a recliner and we were sitting on the floor in the family room about 10 feet away. Her dad said, “Sally, drop your pants.” She just giggled hysterically. I was sitting there in shock, worried about what was going to happen. He repeated his command for her to drop her pants again, and she just laughed again. Nothing else ended up happening at that time. I don’t know if this was code or what.

As an adult, I heard several, too. One that stands out was a two year old niece talking about spanking and her parents trying to stop her from talking about it since they knew it was not a parenting technique that was widely accepted by that point in the 1990s. When we were out at dinner once with the same niece, she was fidgeting a bit. It was taking forever (like over an hour) before our food arrived, and all things considered, she was behaving amazingly well. However, her mother still gave her a very stern and angry threat of, “Do you want to go out to the car with me?” Clearly this was an experience that our niece had already had as she quickly shook her head no and became perfectly still.

Another time we were having a party with a lot of friends and their kids over. It was time to go and the one young boy of about three was refusing to put on his shoes to leave. His father threatened him, “Do you want a spanking?” I was horrified. I didn’t know then and am still not sure now how to have told him, “I am not ok with you spanking your child in my house.”

In my twenties, I worked for several years teaching students who were 11-15. This was in a small town in Texas where belts are still commonly used to discipline kids in this age group, especially in certain communities. It isn’t considered shameful at all: Parent proudly boasted about taking belts to their kids. No one within the communities is going to disagree because they all do the same to their kids. Over my years of teaching, I heard many threats to students from their parents. These are some of the more memorable ones.

I had one student whose behavior was out of control; she was acting out for other teachers as well but was particularly acting out in my class because of some boys she was flirting with. She was going to end up unintentionally pregnant at the rate she was going given the norms of that community. I called her aunt who was her guardian, and we set up a meeting the next day with her aunt, her, me, and a few other teachers. During the meeting, the aunt announced, “I whipped her butt good with my belt last night. Real good. I let her have it.” The student’s eyes filled with tears both from embarrassment and from the memory of the beating, I’m sure.

Another year, we had a male student who was acting like a little monster. All of his teachers had had it with him. One of the other teachers called his mother in for a conference. She was shocked and infuriated by his behavior. She had no idea he was acting like that at school. She started chewing him out in front of the teachers including saying, “I am so mad at you. If I had known this conference was going to be this bad, I would have brought my belt and whipped you with your teachers watching. I am furious.” I have no doubt she would have. I am also sure he got it when he got home. For the rest of the year, he was a complete angel for all of us.

Because the community I taught in was so small, there were a lot of interconnections between students and staff. One of the regular substitute teachers was good friends with the father one of the students we had trouble with on a regular basis. The one day I was near the substitute teacher when he was telling the troublesome student, “Your father would have no problem with me taking a belt to your backside. If you don’t knock it off, I’m going to take you in that office and give it to you good.” Again, I am sure he would have followed through on that promise. Even though it was technically against district policy for staff to use corporal punishment, I am sure no one would have complained.

One year, I had a student who was hearing but had two deaf parents. They came to “Back to School Night” with an ASL interpreter. Because of the communication difficulties between us, I had not spoken with them previously. I told them through the interpreter that their son was being uncooperative during class. Despite not understanding ASL, I had no problem telling that the father turned to the son and gave him a very angry lecture. His head hung in shame and tears started. I would not be surprised if he got the belt when they got home.

One of the most disturbing conversations I had as a teacher involved other teachers condoning abuse of one of the students. There was a female student who started harassing me in the hallway in between classes, calling me names and being rude and insolent. Yes, I was a teacher and yet she decided to start bullying me. She was not in any of my classes—she just decided to be rude for fun. When I told another teacher what happened, she told me, “Call her Daddy. He will beat her. Let him. Don’t call CPS. She deserves it.” I agree that the girl deserved consequences for what she was doing, but I don’t think the other teacher could understand that the abuse she was receiving at home was likely why she was bullying others as she misdirected her anger about her abuse. No child, no matter how rude or obnoxious, “deserves” to be abused.

Did you witness any others being spanked? Yes. Some of the following stories are hearing others be spanked rather than actually seeing.

There was of course my younger brother. I only have memories of him being spanked three times, though I am certain there were more. One was when he and I were little and were spanked together by our mother. Another time was when he was about 10 and got into a fight with my mother which he very much lost. The third was when he was in middle school, and it was outright abuse involving hitting and kicking by my father.

I also witnessed my mom hitting our dogs. One incident in particular stand out in my mind. My mother had a bad day, and the one dog got into the trash which she had left in a place easily accessible to the dog with tempting morsels (to a dog) in the trash. My mother beat the crap out of the dog. It was not ok. It was not disciplinary. It was abuse. That incident was one of the ones which helped give me perspective on how my parents abused me rather than disciplined me. Because I wasn’t the one being hit, I could tell how long and how hard she hit the dog. She was out of control.

There was an incident when I was about 6 when I witnessed a neighbor get spanked. She was a year older than me, but we played together in the summers due to a lack of other girls on our street. She didn’t play with me during the school year, though, because she considered herself older than me and therefore not willing to play with someone who was “so young.” Anyway, during this incident, her mother came storming into the kitchen and began slapping her daughter, followed by her pulling down her daughter’s pants and underwear; she was spanking her daughter with her hand while seated with her daughter over her knee. She was violently hitting her daughter out of anger. I don’t even remember what the friend had done to merit this treatment in her mother’s mind, but it was nothing we were doing at the time. The spanking just happened out of nowhere. I literally couldn’t watch because it was so terrifying for me. Once her mother pulled down her pants, I turned so I couldn’t see what was going on. I just stood there, frozen, until it was over. Once her mother stood her up, she told my friend, “Take your friend to the door and say goodbye.” I still don’t understand why she couldn’t have sent me home before spanking her daughter. Clearly she was too angry to give her daughter that dignity. As my crying friend walked me to the front door, I wasn’t sure what to do or say, so I told her, “I didn’t watch.” Between her tears, she said, “Thanks.” We never mentioned the incident again.

I semi-witnessed another cousin being spanked several times when we were growing up. Honestly, I was not and am not a fan of this particular cousin. I always thought he was a sniveling brat. He was an only child who acted like an only child—unable to play nicely with others except when he got his way. He was a few years younger than me, closer in age to my brother than me. The two of them would often play together leaving me out of their games which didn’t contribute positively toward my feelings for either of them. Anyway, the first spanking was on Christmas Eve at our grandparents when my cousin was about 3 or 4. My cousin was being a whiny brat, tantruming about everything. My uncle finally ran out of patience, scooped up my cousin, and took him out to the car. For some reason I asked my dad, “What’s going to happen to him?” My father very angrily said, “Exactly what would happen to you if you were acting like that.” Clearly my cousin’s behavior had made my father angry, too. I decided it would be a good time to make myself scarce given how angry my father was about his nephew’s behavior. Ten or fifteen minutes later, my uncle brought back in a sniffing, red-faced cousin who was much more subdued for the rest of the evening.

The other time I remember that cousin being spanked is much more hazy. I am fairly sure it was his father (my uncle) who did the spanking again though I know his mother did also spank. I can’t remember if we were upstairs in his room at his house or if we were downstairs in the playroom, but his father took him to the opposite place from where we were and spanked him because he wasn’t getting along with any of the other cousins who were there at the gathering.

I had another cousin on the same side of the family who was spanked by her parents, too. I indirectly witnessed one of the spankings and heard in detail about another. She was also an only child because her parents married late in life. My cousin was much younger than me as a result, so I ended up doing a lot of free babysitting for them when I was in high school. I had actually thought my aunt was anti-spanking based on one conversation we had wherein she told me spanking was not a good discipline method but people in our nation still used it. Surprisingly to me, I witnessed her giving one of those spankings to my cousin. I had come over after school to eat dinner with them before my aunt and uncle went out for the evening. My 5 year old cousin wanted an apple an hour before dinner. She was capable of getting the apple, washing it, and eating it on her own. Her mother refused because she was going to “ruin her dinner.” I’ve never understood this argument. If a growing child is hungry and wants a truly nutritious snack, let the child eat it. It’s not ruining dinner. It’s supplementing it. However, my aunt was overtired from work and got tired of my cousin whining about how she was hungry, so my aunt began a very violent spanking of my cousin while escorting my cousin up to her room to stay until dinner time. I was very shocked by the whole incident.

The other incident with that cousin also occurred when she was five, a few months after the previous spanking. I was at her family’s house for dinner again, and my aunt and uncle began discussing a spanking that had happened the previous day much to my cousin’s embarrassment. I felt truly sorry for her. They were taunting her and mocking her, asking what had happened to her the previous day when she was playing with her friend. She said, “I forget.” To that, my aunt asked my cousin if she needed a reminder of what happened, and my cousin got a horrified look on her face and shook her head violently “no.” My aunt and uncle found this hysterical. Later after dinner when we were doing dishes, my aunt let me know that my cousin had been playing with a neighborhood friend who always got her into trouble. The friend talked my cousin into playing with some of her dad’s hobby equipment which they broke (though it could be repaired with a lot of time and effort). My uncle was furious; he sent the friend home and then gave my cousin “a very harsh spanking” according to my aunt. They decided at that point that my cousin shouldn’t be allowed to play with that friend anymore since he only got her in trouble.

The only public spanking I ever witnessed was when I was home from college one year for Christmas. I watched a very angry father screaming at a young boy (maybe six years old) while the father dragged the son out of a Hallmark store by one arm. The father was using his other arm to violently spank the child anywhere hits could land on the way to their car where I’m sure the child was going to get even worse. To this day, I regret not speaking out. The scene wasn’t a reasonable parent disciplining a child. This was very much an abusive father damaging his son both mentally and physically.

Another spanking (or perhaps it is better described as a slapping) I witnessed happened when I was an adult and mother. I was at a gathering of friends with some of our kids present. One of the women had a son who was six months older than my son; they were about 15 months and 9 months old. Her more mobile son started hitting my son for no real reason. I was not upset. This is not an unusual behavior for kids that age as they explore others’ bodies and try to understand actions and reactions. However, the mother got very upset with her son and started slapping his hands hard while telling him “no!” repeatedly along with some other lecturing. Of course, after the first slap, her son started crying hysterically and was hearing nothing she was saying. I was not a fan of this woman’s parenting, but this incident sealed it for me. She truly overreacted to what happened. I always felt like she parented in a way that was showing off towards others who were watching.

The only spanking I have ever witnessed that I think was handled in an appropriate way was when I was in high school. The boy in question was 3, and I used to babysit for the family who were neighbors. We lived in an area where many people didn’t have air conditioning; open windows with screens were the way of cooling the house. This three year old boy had started the “game” of unlocking the screens and pushing them out the second floor windows. Since he was so young and he had a two year old sibling, this was a truly dangerous thing. I knocked on the front door and let the mother know that one of the screens was out of the windows upstairs. She thanked me profusely. Then, through the open windows, I heard her talking calmly to her son. “Tony,” she said, “I told you that if you pushed the screens out of the windows again I would spank you. You didn’t listen to me, so I am going to have to spank you.” A few seconds later I heard the sound of her hand on his bare bottom slapping three times. That was enough to make him cry and to get her point across. Never again did I see screens out of their windows. I felt guilty for years for having gotten him spanked until I realized a) I had no idea that she would spank him and b) it was a truly dangerous situation. The mom had already talked to him, but he hadn’t listened. She didn’t spank out of anger. She didn’t spank excessively. This was a case where if spanking is acceptable, the parent spanked appropriately. The fact that it’s the only spanking I ever heard or witnessed that could be considered reasonable tells me how often what we label as spanking is actually abuse of children by angry parents.

Did you like watching others be spanked? No. As a young child, I found spankings terrifying. I think this was because I had never seen one given in a loving manner. They were all the same in my mind: A very angry adult lashes out at a child, often for no apparent reason. They were not calm. They were not structured. They were not loving. Only one spanking I witnessed when I was a teen falls outside of those parameters.

As an adult, I still have no desire to watch others spankings in real life, and thus I have no desire to go to spanking parties. Different consenting adults like different things from their spankings, and for me, many of those things are triggering. If I am watching spanking videos at home, I can just turn off the video if I don’t like it. Going to the “cookie” room is not going to be far enough away in a party environment. I will still be able to hear what is going on.

(continue on to part seven)

©2017 WoodLeatherLace.com