Weekend Spanking Challenge - Spanking #2

A still from "Abby's First Paddling." This also used the Cane-iac paddle, referenced in this post.

The second night of the weekend spanking challenge was successful. As we woke up this morning, he let me know that tonight and tomorrow would both be the cane, then he offered to let me receive part of my caning right then. At 5:45 in the morning. I declined, letting him know I had to write about what we did last night before we moved on. I made some coffee, took the pup for a walk, then settled in with my laptop. For your pleasure, and ours, here are the events of round two.

When we begin, I’m wearing a kelly green camisole and thin white cotton panties with the outline of an apple and the words “Bite Me” on the left cheek. The panties ride up as he bends me over the end of the bed, leaving the lower half of my bottom completely uncovered. I’m not marked at all from last night, even though it had been a thorough spanking. To my chagrin, I have one of those bottoms that has adapted to spanking. It still hurts every bit as much, and the soreness remains well after the spanking ends, but the marks tend to fade quickly. It’s like my bottom really is asking for it, as if it‘s saying, “Look, I’m ready to go again!”

I watch from position as he goes over to the implement drawer and draws out the little red leather paddle, my warm-up savior from the night before, and I am relieved. Then comes the tawse-paddle that was hand-crafted for us by Paddle Me Pink (current web presence not found). This is finished scarlet leather on one side with Celtic braids burnished along both sides, and a “W” just before it splits into four tails. As expected, the next implement is the sturdy wooden paddle, half an inch thick and featuring the original Little Red Schoolhouse logo, made by Cane-iac. I expect this to be all, but then the heavy tawse is also added to the line-up. I squirm in place. I’m already sore from the first night, and this is only night two. Am I really going to be paddled and whipped during the course of the next hour?

We begin this time with a hand spanking. I don’t like it. His hand seems to be coming down harder and stiffer than usual. I don’t know if it’s because the spanking is being administered to my already spanked bottom, or if he’s really just spanking hard. It stings and I let him know. He still gets in a few more good smacks before he picks up the little red paddle.

I expect to be relieved as the leather paddling begins. I start squealing as I realize I am completely wrong. The sensation is the opposite of the first night. I don’t feel like I’m being warmed up, I feel like I’m being punished. “Is that the one I liked so much last night?” I ask. As tears came to my eyes, I had begun to think that perhaps he’d traded out implements behind my back. “Indeed it is,” he replies. The floppy paddle smacks back and forth, quick and steady. He pulls my panties down around my thighs while I keep whimpering.

He switches to the four-tailed tawse paddle and I begin to think I’m going to be alright. I let the panties fall to the floor, then kick them out of the way.  The paddling is surprisingly soothing, and though I keep whimpering and moaning and occasionally crying out when it lands on a sore spot, I start to find my rhythm and my warmth. Then just as it’s going well, I ruin the whole thing by asking, “Is that the finished side or the raw side?” He lets me know it’s the raw side, so I start to wonder about the difference between the finished and the raw. I ask him to sample both on my backside so I can learn the difference.

He begins slapping me with the finished side and it stings the way his hand stung. “Okay, okay,” I say, but he keeps going. “The raw side now, please!” He keeps spanking with the finished side and each strike feels like a match has been momentarily held to my ass and then just as quickly put out. The sting is hot, but over quickly. The problem here is that each smack hurts anew. I can’t find the balance, it’s all just quick pain, pain, pain.

I ask what color my bottom is. “Pink,” he confirms, as if it’s not very impressive. He picks up the wooden paddle. Neither of us says it, but we both think it. This will correct the problem of my pink bottom. Red and bruised, here we come!

The first few blows take my breath away. The heat is spread across the full of my bottom. I howl with each, but I also begin to realize that I’m finally starting to ride the pain. I’m standing with my legs spread at the end of the bed, elbows and forearms down, back arched. I’m trying to take each paddle strike in full, because I know that the more I take, the more I will be able to take.

I notice Mr. W’s foot is very close to my right foot. We’re both barefoot, and it’s a little distracting, so I move my foot away so I can focus on getting past the pain and into the next headspace, the one where all I want is another stroke, like the space I was in last night, when I wanted to interrupt sex for a little more of the cane.

His foot is suddenly completely atop mine. He’s still paddling me. Does he not know he’s standing on me? Of all the things that we’ve done during spanking sessions, this is really strange. I’m happy to have a toy pushed into my ass, or my hair pulled, or even, briefly, a hand at my throat. But standing on my foot? This is a little outside my kink.

“You’re standing on my foot!”

“I know, I’m trying to distract you,” he tells me. Without a break, the paddle continues to land on my bottom, and it hurts so much but he is standing on my foot and apparently he’s doing it to help me. I start giggling. The paddle strikes hard, I scream a little too loud, the paddle strikes again and I am laughing, laughing, and I can’t stop. Neither can the paddle, though, so it’s pain, giggle, pain, then so much giggling that he’s giggling too. “This will be fun to write about,” we agree. My ass really hurts but I can’t stop laughing.

That’s where the heavy tawse comes in. The heavy tawse is not funny, and quickly amends the problem of our runaway giggling. I’m warm now, but it still hurts like hell. After a few strokes, I look over my shoulder to see his arm pulled back, about to whip me. I’m so ready. Then the strike lands, and it turns out I’m not prepared at all. I scream, I actually scream. I press my face into the blanket to try to stifle myself, but I keep moaning.

He sets the tawse down and  begins to rub my backside. His hand slowly and gently caresses the places where he’s struck me the hardest, then begins to run his hand lightly over the rest of my bottom, soothing the sting out of my flesh. I’d been trying to cope with the hurt and to encourage myself to crave more of it, but now, softening beneath his touch, the pain catches up to me and I begin to cry. At first it’s just tears, but as he continues to try to soothe me, I begin to really sob. His touch is overwhelming. “I can’t take this. It’s too much,” I tell him. Then I clarify. “Your gentleness is too much. I can’t be touched like this right now.”

Returning to the drawer, he brings out the flogger. He runs its long leather tails across the palm of his hand, then lets it fly towards my backside. He repeats this motion, then does it again, and I start to sigh heavily. I exhale with each stroke. He begins to whip me faster and my breath begins to sound like panting. It’s landing so perfectly across my reddened backside and the torment is just right. It’s the right rhythm, the right heat, the right sting, and just the right amount of thudding leather to wrap it all together. I begin to get a little dizzy; I’m lightheaded with the encompassing sensation. He’s only whipping my ass but it feels like there is warmth spreading throughout my entire body, like standing outside on a summer day and the sun is so hot on my skin that I know I should go inside, but I need to stand in its rays just one moment longer. I’m burning, but it feels so good. He changes the direction of his swing and lightly flogs my pussy, then changes back and whips the insides of my thighs, then returns to full strokes across my entire backside. I think to myself that when I write about this, I will be crudely honest: It feels fucking amazing.

The flogging winds down and I can feel the heat coming off him too, even though we’re not in contact, and as I collapse forward I know that I’ve received a reprieve from the cane tonight. We are both on fire. I expect to feel his knee spreading my legs, to have him pull my hips back towards him, so I am surprised when instead, he bites me. He does it again, grabbing bits of my bottom between his teeth. His stubble tickles but the biting hurts. I yelp. “Why are you biting me?”

“Don’t wear panties that say ‘Bite Me’ if you don’t want to get bitten.” He nips me again.

“I’m not wearing any panties,” I remind him.

He bites me one last time, a little south of where he’d previously been getting me. “Oh, I know,” he says. “I know.”


Go back:
Weekend Spanking Challenge - Spanking #1
Or continue reading:
Weekend Spanking Challenge - Spanking #3
Weekend Spanking Challenge - Spanking #4