Disciplining Ford

Some relatively recent posts on other blogs have reminded me of an occasion, now perhaps a year or more ago, when DW used a post-orgasm spanking as a painfully effective application of purely non-erotic, remedial discipline.

I can recall that I was due for some well-deserved punishment as a consequence of several behavioural infringements during the previous week, and that this happened to coincide with one of those unusual weekend afternoons when we were sure of having the house to ourselves. It hadn’t really dawned on me that DW would have the opportunity to administer my punishment until she specifically reminded me that we would be alone and ordered me off to the bedroom to strip and stand naked at the foot of our bed in readiness.

Once DW did arrive about 10 minutes later, it was obvious that she intended to deliver a very direct and severe message about my behaviour – the determined manner with which she seized the hairbrush from the dresser and positioned me bent over the end of the bed with my palms, elbows and forehead flat against the covers, really said it all.

As DW placed her hand in the middle of my back and began work on my “sit spot” with her best alternating stinging strokes, she expressed some satisfaction with the manner in which I was reflexively gripping the bedclothes in response to the message she was imparting.

“Got a tight grip there I see.”

“Ah! Ye…es Ma’am”

“But why are you rising up onto your toes like that? – are you trying to get away from me?”

“No Ma’am.”

Well to DW the answer was just all too obvious – reasoning that I must be doing it to provide some relief from the pain she was intent on inflicting with the hairbrush.

“Put you feet FLAT on the floor.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

After this brief pause, DW was content to continue the lesson, although I still found it very difficult to keep my heels grounded and required at least three more reminders to resume the correct position – the progression to 50 strokes being all the more painfully prolonged as a consequence.

“OK, now kneel down please.”

DW, fully clothed up until this point, now proceeded to remove her shoes, jeans, socks and panties. As she sat on the side of the bed and swung her feet towards where I was kneeling, I was presented with the delicious sight of her pussy. DW slid down towards where I was kneeling, legs apart until her knees were bent and her heels resting against the end board that stops level with the top of the mattress. Painfully punished butt or not, the opportunity to orally pleasure DW is always one of my favourite activities.

Sliding my arms under the back of her thighs and then bringing them around and up to place my hands gently on her hips, I started by bringing my mouth to her already moist pussy and pushing my tongue deeply inside her. Then working my way upward, I sought out her clit and set to work with gradually increasing intensity. There was no hurry, and experience has taught that the longer I spin it out in building DW to orgasm, the more spectacular is the end result.

This turned out to be no exception and after she had exploded and was starting to drift down, I simply couldn’t resist the temptation of tightening my grip on her hips and then ever so gently flicking the very tip of my tongue over her clit, to the sound of her pleasured protests and the violent writhing in response to each fleeting random touch.

Eventually DW’s pleadings for release gave way to demands to have me inside of her and as soon as I loosened my grip on her hips, we both slid urgently up the bed and savoured the moment when I entered her and triggered another wave of her orgasm as our hips forcefully met.

Being well and truly ready myself, my own explosion inside her was to follow not long afterwards.

************************************

I have no doubts that we then both dozed off for some period of time, but my waking vision was of DW by the side of the bed, back in her panties and sharply slapping the hairbrush against the palm of her left hand.

“Did you think that I had finished?”

“Apparently not.”

“Well you had better get back into position.””

This I did somewhat drowsily and, I can assure you, with absolutely no feelings of arousal.

After yet another warning to keep my heels grounded, my lethargy evaporated as DW delivered another 50 fiercely blistering strokes to the same area as previously – to the accompaniment of my breathless exclamations as each one landed.

Whilst I suspect that both sets of fifty stokes were delivered at about the same level of physical intensity, I certainly know which constituted the more severe punishment … and yes, my butt still does hurt just thinking about it.