Medical opinion seems to be that ICE, as in Ice, Compression and Elevation are the recommended treatments for a contusion – being ‘an injury to a muscle and tissues caused by a blow from a blunt object, typically resulting in a bruise’. That sounds like a spanking to me.
As it’s clearly my intent that Ford has something to remember when I give him a truly disciplinary spanking, this treatment is very much at odds with my objectives.
Ford has never had the option to treat his spanked butt with ice, and prolonged elevation of his butt is not really practical other than for the actual anticipation and delivery of a spanking. However, it came to my attention that allowing him to wear a pair of tight fitting jeans might be affording him some relief from the after-effects by providing a measure of compression. Consequently, I now require Ford to wear loose fitting clothing over his butt for a least the day after I have spanked him. Most commonly this will take the form of nice loose fitting nylon panties and casual trousers other than jeans.
Even better, if the plan is for him to be working inside the house, I’ll have him in just a T shirt and panties with just runners on his feet. With a pair of panties that nicely outline his butt (and welts), this has the added advantage of letting me enjoy the scenery while he works.
This is even better if he happens to be working out on the gym equipment – and why does the sight of him amongst all that metal just make me want to tie him down? Hmmm…
There really is not much that I enjoy more than bringing DW to a loud, mind-blowing orgasm while she is sitting on my face.
On the most recent occasion DW took the initiative once our foreplay had reached the stage that I was ever so gently fingering her generously moist clit and it was clear from her moanings that she was very much enjoying the attention… “Hmmm…” she said, “I would really like to be sitting on your face”
Being only too willing to oblige, I rolled onto my back, pulled the pillows comfortably under my head and reached up with both hands to grasp the bed head. Meanwhile, DW climbed over on to her knees to initially straddle my hips and then, sidled her way up the bed bringing her shaven pussy and its delightful perfume progressively closer to my face – leaving a trail of her juices on my chest. Soon her pussy was firmly planted over my mouth with her mound pressing gently against my nose and once again, I was savouring her delightfully familiar taste and smell.
DW’s shuddering pleasure was evident as I slowly and repeatedly slid my tongue deeply inside her – “Ahhh, I just simply love the feeling of your tongue inside me.” As I gazed upwards past her now heaving breasts and focused on the expression on her face, I could see that DW’s eyes were clenched tightly closed and her mouth open as she was becoming lost in pleasure. Again I recalled one of the reasons that I enjoy this position so much – because it allows me to intimately observe DW’s reactions to the ministrations of my tongue.
Those reactions became all the more intense as lay my head back slightly to surround her clit with my mouth to draw it out gently and start caressing it with my tongue. As I watched I could see and hear DW reaching progressively higher plateaus of enjoyment until I knew from experience that she had reached the point where her orgasm is imminent, completely inevitable and coming with a total rush. At this point my own senses became overwhelmed by the combination of DW’s unrestrained screams of pleasure, the look of pleasure on her face with her head thrust back, while the uncontrolled thrusting of her pussy against my mouth and nose buried me completely in her taste and scent.
As DW had not taken the simple expedient of tying my hands together, I now had the opportunity for some control of my own as I lowered my arms across her thighs and reached around to lock my hands behind her waist – so that her clit was now unable to escape the mischievous attentions from my tongue. Knowing that DW would now be getting anxious to have my cock inside her as she gradually came down from her orgasm, I ran my tongue across her clit at random intervals – each occasion producing a desperate wriggling of her hips in a bid to escape and a progressively more vehement pleading for release, that I punctuated deliberately with further caresses of my tongue.
“Ford, ahhhh, let me aaahh go, ahh I want you aaaaahh inside me, Ford, aaahhhh, Ford …..” Perhaps this is what Alex Comfort meant when he referred to cunnilingus as “Mouth Music”.
Although in theory I probably have the strength to prolong this indefinitely, I did ultimately heed DW’s pleadings by releasing the grip of my hands after which it seemed she almost instantaneously impaled herself on my cock. As she drove her clit hard against my pubic bone I watched as a sudden look of pleasurable surprise was overtaken by one unconstrained pleasure as she experienced another shudderingly intense orgasm. “Oh god, I love to come with you inside me!”
Once DW had then ridden me to my own intense orgasm where I thought I might actually throw her off the bed, still on her knees and with me still inside her, she lay herself against me with her mouth next to my ear. As she regained her breath, DW whispered gently in my ear.
“You sir, are a ratbag.”
Just of late DW’s primary focus has been on achieving a long lasting effect from each of my disciplinary spankings and for this outcome, it is clear that DW prefers the use of our ‘nice’ solid oak Spencer Paddle. Once I am bent over and in position, my feelings of trepidation and foreboding are all the more accentuated when I hear the wardrobe door slide open and the unmistakable faint thud of the paddle as it is once again retrieved from its resting place – followed by the sound of its repeated tapping against DW’s hand.
Over time DW has developed her skills with the paddle to a point that ensures each of its impacts with my butt is gaspingly painful and that I’ll be reminded of a thorough paddling for many days to come. DW is not a believer in warm up strokes except perhaps for the administration of a first group over panties. Irrespective, each stroke arrives with the full force that her arm and a perfectly timed flick of her wrist can deliver. By the time she hooks her thumbs into the waist band of my panties and eases them down in readiness for the next set of strokes, my butt is already well aflame and removal of the panty material from the spanked area can be quite an ordeal in itself. Knowing that more strokes of equal severity are then about to fall on my bare butt is very sobering.
Whilst DW is generally content to apply each stroke across both butt cheeks for most of a paddling, with DW being right-handed, it often becomes apparent that my right butt cheek is getting the worst of it. Where this has occurred, the gentle tapping of the end of the paddle against my left cheek makes me aware that DW is about to remedy the situation. What follows will be series of real stingers delivered solely to the left – interspersed with pauses while DW surveys to ensure that both left and right cheeks are treated equally in terms of severity and geographic coverage.
In terms of after-effects, DW’s success can be measured by the fact that there is generally no relief to be gained by being seated unevenly with more weight on a less sore cheek – the only answer being to sit down evenly and carefully. This is not helped by the fact that when we are together in say a café or restaurant, DW will take some pains to find the hardest seats. As I carefully take my seat, DW has that unmistakable look that says, “Well Ford, you know you only got what you deserved”.
The spanking in our relationship is not always confined to domestic discipline nor to my butt. Although I’m always the one on the receiving end of disciplinary spankings, there are occasions when we spank each other simply for fun or eroticism, although we find the two are pretty closely intertwined. One of those occasions is when we’re in the mood to play Switch – a very appropriately named card game – for spanking penalties.
When we do, I’m forcefully reminded that DW is not only the disciplinarian, but is also one who relentlessly plays to win. The game of “Switch” involves a combination of both luck and skill – but fortunately for me, primarily much of the former.
Like all the best games of this sort, the rules are relatively simple and I suspect quite a few will already be familiar with it as a vanilla card game:
- Each player is dealt 7 cards after which the top card from the remainder of the pack is turned face up;
- Starting opposite the dealer, each player in turn has the option of placing down a card from their hand that matches either the suite or value of the upturned card – e.g. the 9 of hearts can be covered by any other heart or another 9. If the card placed down has the same value (e.g. 9 of diamonds), the next player must then either place down a card of the same suite (a diamond in the example) or another 9;
- If the player has an Ace, he or she has the option of placing the Ace down and then nominating the suite that must be next placed down by the other player – the aim being to nominate a suite not strongly held by the other player;
- If the next player has no cards that can be placed down as above, he or she must pick up one card from the remaining pack. If the pack is exhausted as a result of this process, (as can happen quite often in long hands) the cards discarded so far (except the top one) are shuffled and used to re-form the pack;
- The player who first succeeds in discarding all of their cards is the winner of that hand and gets to apply the spanking penalty;
- The loser of the hand receives the number of strokes equivalent to the total value of the cards that remain in their hand. Picture cards count for 10, while Aces count for 20! – so if you hold on to an Ace for use at a strategic moment, be sure you know how many cards are remaining in your opponent’s hand!
Before starting, it pays to agree on the intensity of the penalty strokes each player will receive – typically DW receives really firm hand strokes over my knee, whereas I usually get bent over for a really stinging dose from the hairbrush.
The twists and turns in this game can make for some very suspenseful hands and fortunes can reverse very suddenly with the turn of a single card.
DW’s look is priceless when she knows I have only one card left, doesn’t yet know if I will be able to place it down – but she has no choice but to pick up another that will add to the strokes she may receive. If it proves that I can’t place down my last card, the situation can very quickly reverse. If I can’t go out and DW happens to pick up an ace, suddenly I can be the one that’s sitting rather nervously.
For a real sting in the tail of this game, another option is for the first player who accumulates a specific total of remaining cards over a series of hands to then also receive that number of strokes. An agreed accumulated total of one hundred for example would really give something to play for, given that the losing player will then receive a minimum of 200 strokes in total.
After losing 5 hands in a row recently and receiving more than 40 very firm hand spanks right on her sit spot over my knee, there was definitely no mistaking the enthusiasm with which DW grabbed the hairbrush when she finally did get to win a hand.
It’s not typical for DW to give prior indication of the duration and severity of a punishment she plans to apply for an infringement, but there have been occasions when she’s indulged in some degree of “negotiation”. Unfortunately it’s rarely I’m left with the feeling, especially in my butt, that I’ve then only received the minimum she was prepared to administer.
In a recent case DW opened negotiations while I was serving “corner” time, hands behind my head and facing a full length mirror in our bedroom.
“So what do you think would be a reasonable punishment?”
“25 with the hairbrush?” I ventured.
“No… I’m afraid that’s not even close mister!”
“Oh…umm… 30 with the paddle?”
“Hmm, yes, I guess that might do – ok, but it will be a slow, hard paddling.”
Why the resigned “…oh”? – you might ask.
Well the number of stokes may seem a reasonable outcome, but the manner of their delivery would make me more than sorry I perhaps hadn’t opted for more strokes with DW prepared to deliver them in more rapid fashion. Experience has taught that 30 slow and hard paddle strokes from DW are a far greater test of my endurance, and result in a far more severe outcome.
As DW’s delivery of 30 paddle strokes in this manner can stretch to 20 minutes, she does take some care that my positioning is sufficiently comfortable that I can remain in position for that period of time – or at least that the position itself will not be a limiting factor on the duration of my spanking. Typically this will be over a well padded chair with a back of exactly the right height or as most recently, over the foot of a sleigh bed at a rented weekend cottage providing near ideal ergonomics. In that instance, DW certainly had me strongly gripping the bed covers from the very first stroke.
As you can imagine, the primary reasons for my additional foreboding at the prospect of a slow, hard paddling are that the pause between each stroke:
- allows DW to recover her full strength and ensure the next is applied with total deliberation at the full measure of force to her exactly intended destination;
- repeatedly produces the full gambit of pain sensations – whereas a more rapidly delivered spanking tends to postpone this until it’s complete, to some extent.
Hence the delivery of each stroke tends to be followed by perhaps a 20 to 30 second pause during which I am left to fully experience its painful aftermath. Once the pain of each stroke has subsided a little and my composure somewhat regained, DW then expects me to deliver a formal response in a near normal voice:
“That’s ten…thank you Ma’am…may I please have another?”
Should this response be a little long in coming, I’ll become aware that DW has already replaced her hand on my lower back and relaid the flat of the paddle across my now flaming butt cheeks in preparation for the next stroke – a warning that any further delay will result in a repeat of the same stroke.
DW also tends to reward any profanities that escape during the aftermath of a paddle stroke with repeat strokes and a pause while she fetches and firmly installs the ball gag – whilst nevertheless still requiring that I attempt formal responses, despite its relentless rubberised invasion of my mouth.
So back to the negotiations.
“So how long should I keep you in panties then?”
“No, that’s not long enough I think – try again.”
“Umm… 2 weeks?” I venture – in the hope that her daily choice from the drawer might be at the more comfortable end of the scale.
”Yes, that’s fine… 1 week would have sufficed, but two will be just fine.”
I awaken in the early hours of the morning with a growing erection to find that DW is cuddled in very close behind me. Stirring slightly, I’m reminded that that my cock is encased in the sheer silky material of some rather retro, high-cut, red nylon, lace-trimmed panties that DW has selected that I should wear for the night. My erection has now become achingly hard and through the thin panty material, I can feel DW’s smooth and completely shaven pussy pressing against my butt.
A little time later and as my erection is showing signs of abating, DW somehow senses my wakefulness and moves her hand down to wrap it around the semi-hardened bulge in my panties. Just to restore my total arousal, she moves her hand upwards to just ever so gently caress each of my nipples in turn – my resulting soft moanings, shudders of frustration and involuntary hip movements betraying to her the totally teasing effect of her touch.
Her warm hand then returns to enwrap my cock through its thin nylon covering while her thumb sneaks inside the lace waistband to gently stroke its tip, now liberally coated with pre-cum.
“Hmm… what a shame you haven’t been better behaved. Sleep tight, perhaps I’ll make use of that in the morning.”