This is post #200! Thank you for reading along!
My stress levels have been at a max for the last little while. I’ve been craving the kind of spanking that could get me to the point of emotional release. The kind that I can’t always handle in reality. S is one of those rare tops who can read and write. He had seen my previous post where I had mentioned all of that and promised me a good spanking when we next met.
We had a nice day and it ended with a spanking. He asked if I’d been a good girl or a bad girl. I gestured toward my thong that read “bad girl” on it. He started spanking me with his hand as I lay on the bed. He applied his hand firmly and methodically to warm me up. I was able to relax into his touch. He wrapped his arm around my waist and the swats got harder as he switched to using the leather paddle. My bottom was stinging already.
I squirmed and cried out with Ooww’s and Aahh’s as things ramped up. He brushed my hair from my face and told me to be good. “Yes, sir,” I mumbled in reply. He paused and rubbed my reddening cheeks. Then he grabbed the wooden paddle to continue with, his arm encircling my waist once more. I love/hate that move. I like the closeness of it and the contact, but it can also be an “oh shit” moment because I know restraining me means it’s about to get more intense.
The paddle covered every inch of my bottom, preparing me for the cane. I grimaced as S set the other implements aside and pulled the cane from the mailing tube it resides in. I heard it swish in the air before feeling the searing line where it landed, over and over. He continued with quick concise strokes from left to right. My bottom felt as if it were on fire, but I did not move. I didn’t want to fight him. I needed this. I gripped the pillow as the cane bit into me.
After a little while he stopped and set the cane down. He pulled me close to him. “You’re such a good girl and didn’t squirm at all. You’re so tough and took that very well,” he softly spoke into my ear. The words. I teared up a bit and felt myself teetering on the edge, so close to falling into that headspace I craved. “A little more,” I whispered. His raised eyebrow questioned if I really wanted to go further and I nodded in reply.
He moved to stand to the left of me and picked the cane back up. He tapped it against me several times before landing a quick succession of strokes. Then he stood to my right side to do the same. I whimpered into my pillow but I stayed still. I felt it, and it hurt, but things blurred a bit at the end. I got there. He sat next to me and we were done. He cuddled with me and said he hoped that had been enough. I think I mumbled a yes and thanked him. Some lotion was applied to my very sore rear end and I slept quite fitfully that night. Thank you again, S.