|image found at The Pink Papers|
If one were to go by the popular vote amongst spanking enthusiasts, it could be believed that OTK bare bottomed/bare handed spanking is the holy grail of all things spanking.
Now I have my complaints about OTK. There are things I like about it, the closeness and contact. But realistically it’s not usually very comfortable, especially for a long period of time.
My outstretched arms get tired with my hands on the floor. My legs stretched out in the other direction (my feet are always on the floor since I’m so tall) often start to cramp. Nothing kills the mood like a bad charley horse.
It also can cause the spanking to be a bit uneven. Usually the cheek furthest from the spanker’s body gets hit harder than the cheek closest to them. When I’m standing and bending over, or even lying on a bed, they can switch sides to avoid this.
I am with the majority on the love of the hand though. Having recently tried my hand at topping, literally, I experienced the damage a hand can incur. But I assume most people are much tougher than I am. As a bottom, the hand remains my favorite.
I like the skin on skin contact. The personal touch, so to speak. I like the flexibility of the hand. I like that it can apply varying intensities. I love the rubbing and soothing it gives after the spanking. I’m not someone who usually needs a particularly long or hard spanking. (I’m a wuss in case you’re new here.) So it’s unlikely a hand could get completely worn out on me.
It doesn’t even have to be used throughout the whole spanking. Some firm swats mixed in between other implements and I’m a happy girl. I’m easy, really. Well not like that! And a few days ago, I was happy that my bottom got some extra attention from the hand.
I was with S and he led me over to the table. He undid my jeans and they soon fell to my ankles as I bent over with my forearms lying on the table. There were two straps already sitting out but he ignored those for the moment and spanked me with his hand.
Softer and harder and softer again. The friction of his skin on mine, his hand rubbing up and down my bottom and thighs. I relax into it and my hands are no longer tense on the table. In between caresses and firm smacks I stay in place. My soft gasps and the sharp slap of his hand connecting with my bottom echo throughout the room.
He switches to the strap and it kisses my flesh several times. It’s sting reverberates through me. I breathe deeply and let my mind empty out. He continues with the other strap as I start to squirm. My arms still on the table, I turn my head back to look at him and we kiss.
He sets the strap down and resumes with his hand. Harder now on my sufficiently warm bottom. My ability to remain standing amazes me as my body has turned to jelly. My hand lies on top of his free hand, our fingers intertwining. His skin on mine. Mine on his. Bliss.