Well Spanked Man

Continued from Art Show Maintenance Spanking part 1…

Finally, Twilight stopped beating the brush onto my screaming behind. That part was over. Whether it was dozens or hundreds I couldn’t say, just that it had stopped and my bottom was on fire. People always talk about being surprised at how much a spanking hurts, and so far this one had really hurt. Sometimes, during a good blistering, time seems to contract and expand, both at once. It becomes irrelevant, the only real thing the pain of my bottom being whacked over and over in a rhythm which has beat but no tempo.

“Get Up!”, she said sternly, mentally knocking me off balance. I stood and was pushed forward against the dressing bench, then up on top of it. Twilight rubbed my reddened cheeks, her smooth fingers feeling course and scratchy. A quick pinch stung much more than it should have and I winced, knowing it was quickly about to get bad again. SLAP! Burning again, but now across a wide stripe of my ass. This leather strap is heavy with holes at the end, and was advertised as a Canadian Prison Strap. The pain is deeper, but different and with less bite than the brush. But it is a throbbing pain, and I do sometimes cry during a hard strapping with it. Tonight it made me feel plenty repentant without drawing forth tears.

I stammered an apology, “I…. I am…. sorry dearest…”, SLAP! “Ouhhhhhh….. I…. I….. I promise… to be on my… best behavior…. tonight”. Again and again the strap rained down, cracking upon my out-stuck buttocks, striping them over and over with a hot and pulsing pain. The strap came down 20 times, then thirty. Then a pause.

“I am going to give you a dozen more dear, hard. Just to make certain that you really have learned your lesson,” my wife said with a softness of voice that contrasted strangely with the harshness of the strapping. Slap! It hit full across my bottom and I fell from my knees. Slap! I slid further down, unable to hold position. Slap! I lay half upon the bench. Slap! The stroke hit over my right cheek and left thigh. Slap! “Pla … pla … please” Slap! “Please what? Stop? Not yet.” Slap! “ohhhh…. I’m sorry…” Slap! I was kicking now, it burned so bad, it was so hard, I could not take it, no. Slap! I was still taking ut, taking a good licking, which always seems it can’t be endured. Slap! My arms gave out under me. Slap! “Only one more dear, then its all over….”, she said tenderly. Slap! Ohhhh….. ahhhhh, the strapping was over.

I felt weak and trembled a little, endorphins washing the sharpness of the pain like an artist dampening his watercolor. She was moving around, not in a hurry, but with determination. “I need to do my hair and use the bathroom before we leave. You can kneel there and think about how much more sore your rear-end will be if you do embarrass me in front of these people when we are socializing,” she said as she set the strap over my calves. Then she lightly patted the cheeks she had so recently reddened. By the time she was done readying herself, I had regained my composure. We hugged, which we almost always do, and I thanked her. I truly was thankful not only for my spanking, but also for her.

A few days ago we went on a mini-road-trip to a city a few hours away. The Sex Worker Art Show is touring the country and was coming to a city within a reasonable driving distance. Twilight said, “Obviously we need to go!”, and I was certainly not going to argue. So, on very little notice I packed up the car.

While packing I was reminded, “Don’t forget to bring some good spanking implements, I don’t want you thinking you can get away with anything while we are gone.” So, into the luggage went a variety of “toys” including a small wooden bathbrush and the nasty holey leather strap.

The drive down went well, traffic and construction were both unusually good. Unfortunately, Twilight’s mood was rather terse. At one point I snapped back “Well, you were the one who wanted to go out of town on a day’s notice!”. She responded that perhaps I needed an attitude adjustment, then an icy silence fell. She turned on the radio, and the chill lifted as she hummed to the music and pointed out various oddities along the way.

The mood brightened further when we checked into a hotel rather nicer than what we expected. Between packing and the drive we were both quite hungry. We went down to the restaurant for dinner and a drink. At one point my wife asked me to pass the salt, and as I leaned towards her, she whispered into my ear, “I still need to spank you before we go to the show.” I bit my lip, feeling a little anxious that another diner might overhear. “Well, I can’t have you acting up tonight, but I know you’ll behave once I warm your behind good,” she said. I lowered my eyes sheepishly and we went back to eating. I felt even more anxious now, she seemed serious about dishing out out some discipline.

Back in the room, she quickly selected the bathbrush, which she for still calls “the hairbrush” to distinguish it from a larger bathbrush we used to have, before she broke it. She started towards the dressing stool at the end of the bed, then turned back. “I think we’ll be needing this too,” she said as she picked the strap out of the suitcase.

“Come over here and strip from your waist down,” she said, beckoning as she sat down on the bench. Of course I obeyed, but I did ask politely, “What am I being spanked for dearest?”. “You should already know that, I think,” she said, “remember earlier in the car when you snapped at me?” She pulled me over her knees. “But, honey, that was nothing big. Its just been a tense day, we just left sort of spur of the moment,” I mildly protested. This was a bit exciting, it had been days since I’d been given a good spanking, but I also knew this was going to be more than a light and fun scene, and I squirmed a little, nervously across her lap.

Smack! She started spanking me, hard, with her hand. She stared scolding me too, “Well, I can’t have you acting like that at the Sex Worker Art Show tonight! I have friends who will be there, do you think I want you to embarrass me like that if front of them?”. After a too short warm-up she switched to that brush. It is an evil brush, curving down on one side, making it easy to scorch the spot where by bottom meets up with my thighs. And she did, scolding me occasionally and spanking me steadily for several minutes which felt like they would never end.

to be continued…