Prelude to a Cream Pie (A Naughty Abby Vignette)

This video is a snippet from my 41st birthday spanking, just last week! Not the same spanking as below, but is close enough, as it includes a hand spanking with a sjambok balanced on my bum.

I'd already left a creamy ring around the base of his cock by the time he moved me to the armchair with the intention of punishing me. I'd known it was coming, had tried to be ready for it, had tried since he'd texted me of my transgression the day before.

I'd been sitting at my desk at work when the message came through: "I need to have the kitchen wench severely whipped for forgetting my morning coffee!"

Alas, I was the kitchen wench in question, and I truly had forgotten his coffee! As I'd run around the house doing my usual 6 a.m. morning routine, I'd been distracted by Twitter, of all things. I proceeded to send a series of apologies and emojis, knowing two things for certain. One, he wasn't at all mad at me, and two, I definitely had that punishment coming anyway. Sure enough, he followed up with "It's really ok! I just wanted something fun to whip you for, and you provided!" Kissy lips. Mmm, a weekend whipping was on its way.

I climbed onto the chair, pressing the outside of each knee into the sides of the seat. I crossed my arms and rested them on the back of the chair, settling my chin into the backs of my hands. I arched, presenting my bottom.

He already had the sjambok in hand, the braided whip that alternately thuds into the muscle or stings across the surface of the flesh, depending on how he wields it. He has coaxed both low, rumbling waves of pleasure from my body with this leather beast, as well as weeping and welts. I'd been looking forward to this moment but suddenly wasn't sure if I had it in me to take a full punishment whipping, even for fun. My whisper hoarse, I told him, "I don't know if... I don't know what I'm up for."

"I know," he said. Without saying anything more, I knew he'd already taken my position, my trembling, and my wetness into account. I wasn't ready to say I was ready, but he knew I was without my saying it and I could sense his arm pull the whip back. A small nod of my head into my hands. The crack of the leather braid cut across the air sharply, breaking the silence, followed by a quick snap as the whip just barely flicked the naked skin of my ass.

It wasn't enough to howl about but I wanted to howl. Mr. W began a light but steady rhythm, the heavy braid landing at times more like a flexible cane when he choked up on his hold. The blows weren't hard, only consistent, only warming my backside from sit-spot to top-of-the-crack one stroke at a time. Despite the gentler strokes, it was hurting more than my birthday whipping. Maybe I just wasn't warmed up yet. Frustrated with myself, I tried to signal that I was ready for more.

He began to mix harder strokes into the mix, whippy strokes that cut into the inner curve of my ass cheek. They bit, and with those strokes I did begin to call out my pain. Each "Oh!" or "Ah!" seemed only to encourage the steadiness of Mr. W's lashes. Soon it felt as if the whip was dancing from cheek to cheek with quick sharp snaps, stinging and biting and inciting me to tears.

I was having trouble holding position and my body was doing a spastic twerk. I couldn't maintain the arch in my back and soon found myself free of the whip, collapsed over the back of the chair despite the punishment being quite minimal. Mr. W was giving me space to breathe.

"How are you doing?" he asked once I'd caught my breath. I shook my head. "Not great. Not as good as I want to be doing," I told him.

He stroked my back, my bottom. "You were doing great for long spaces and then it was like your body would give up. Then you were back at it, ready to go. What can I do for you?"

I didn't have to think. I knew I needed something to get over the hump in my own head, and I knew we were going to have to get closer than the sjambok allowed. "I need to cry. Will you spank me with your hand, Sir?" I asked. I wanted it. I wanted his hand burning my bottom, close, hot, and hard. I wanted it to hurt and I wanted to get past whatever was keeping me from fully enjoying the punishment up to now.

I was already in the mindset that my spanking was causing me pain. As his hand began to smack me, quick sharp spanks back and forth, I found my tears quickly.

What was bothering me? Smack, slap, smack, smack - I could feel my cheeks wobbling in time with the spanking. I did so well for my birthday spanking. Why couldn't I do it now? "Ow!" Sob. "Ow!" More sobbing. "Owwwwww!" All the tears burst forth.

The spanking didn't stop as I relived the last two days. We'd laughed about forgetting the coffee; the pain and tears were not contrition, it wasn't that. Work had ended on a positive note on Friday, I wasn't processing any stress there. For our primary weekend activity, we'd been working on the Etsy store, setting up naughty books for our smut shop. Visions of extreme sexual scenarios danced through my head, and  yet I was still crying and he was still spanking me and I was still trying to find a way to enjoy it.

His hand was firm, his palm curved to the shape of my ass cheek. Grabbing, slapping, smacking, turning me tender, each smack landing with a fire brighter than the last, his full attention on giving me what I'd asked for. Giving me the spanking I'd craved, the spanking I hadn't had to beg for, but would have. Then -

That's it, that's it. More please. Closer, faster, harder, I don't want the whip or the strap or the paddle or the cane, just your hand, Sir, just your hand, Daddy, yes please keep spanking me don't let me go don't turn away just you and my bottom, please, Sir -

I felt the arch return to my back vertebrae by vertebrae. My ass pushed back, greeting Mr. W's hand with greed. "Ooh, yes please Daddy, please spank me," I whispered, all my flirty filthiness back in force.

Later, Mr. W would tell me that it was a visible process that began in my shoulders and worked its way down my body, releasing the tension and unlocking my head. From the inside, it was a distinct shift, a place of pain turned quite literally to pleasure as the realization came to me that I'd been missing Mr. W. We'd been working together all day but not fully interacting. Sharing surface thoughts but not digging deep. We'd been so busy that even though we'd spent the day together, I hadn't felt him with me until he'd taken my hand-spanking to heart and let me have it. Connected, our skin warmed to the same heat, here he was with me. The shift in my head was from loneliness to feeling loved.

Fortunately for Mr. W, I don't get romantic when I feel loved. I get dirty.

The tears disappeared without my trying to end them. The sobbing became sighs of encouragement. "Yes, yes," I whispered, in case he hadn't noticed the shift. I arched deeper, presenting my body for whatever might be next on the agenda. I knew what I wanted, though. One of the books I'd been reviewing had an especially naughty scene that had stuck with me. All I had to do was say one particular magic word one more time so he'd know what I wanted, too.

Thank god he saw how wet I was again. I was clearly ready to move on from the spanking and so was he. With his hands on my hips, my lower back, he held me in place as he rested the head of his cock just at the dripping opening of my pussy. "I feel so little beneath you," I said, keeping my voice as small as I wanted to feel. "Daddy."

"Yeah?" His breath was rough. I was too wet. He was slipping inside me.

My voice even smaller: "Oh. Oh! Daddy..."

He knew what I wanted. He held tightly to my hips and pulled me back onto him like a glove he wanted to ruin. "Yeah, that's it, baby,"he growled close to my ear. "Take it for Daddy. That's it."

Scene-wise, that was all we needed. I bit the back of the leather chair and he let me have it, a pounding for my pussy but a salve for my mind. I was at peace in this place of being possessed. Throbbing waves threatened to break the spell and return me to womanhood, but:

"Oh, Sir. Oh Daddy! I feel like my tight little hole is going to burst all over you. Oh! Please, please. It's so much!"

We came together, collapsing in a gasping pile of trembling limbs. "Dear god you are incredible," Mr. W sighed into my skin. "Mmmmm, thank you Daddy," I purred, snuggling back against him. "Thank you for my spanking. My fucking. I needed you."

He helped me stand and held me steady. I looked down and saw the creamy emulsion my body had left on his. I grinned, remembering what was in the kitchen, feeling like a little girl all over again. "We have lemon cream pie!"

Mr. W's blue eyes sparkled. "Go get me some pie, little girl," he laughed.

"Yes, Sir!" Naked, sated, barely dripping any longer, I skipped off to the kitchen for pie.


I hope you're following me on Twitter! I'm on there daily and am generally happy to interact. Plus I post pics of my butt there ALL the time. @AbbyW2007

Started as a Bottom Now I'm Here

Art by Yang Se Eun (Zipcy) from My Modern Met

With plans only to tease, delight, and explore, I took Mr. W over my lap on Saturday night. I was on the bed, propped up with pillows behind me. He lay across my legs, head on my left, bottom directly before me, bare cock pressed to the tops of my thighs.

I ran my left hand up and down his back, taking moments to massage the areas I know are always most sore, while massaging his glutes with my right. Despite knowing he wanted all my attention on his bottom, I took breaks to reach over with both hands to knead his shoulders and run my knuckles alongside his spine, gently pressing out the tightness and discomfort of a long day working at the computer. His back needed the attention as much as his butt and I was taking care of him, whether he liked it or not.

Eventually, though, I couldn't resist the sweet little globes he was presenting to me and I began to playfully tap his cheeks with a series of tiny little smacks to each side. Three in a row, taptaptap! Each side would get a few rounds of those, then rubs. Four in a row, tap-tap-taptap! A couple rounds, and more rubs and loves. All the way up to rounds of six little spanks to each cheek.

The playful smacks weren't even enough to turn him pink but he'd done well, keeping his bottom up and centered, letting me explore without wiggling, letting me smack him at all -

- after all, am I not usually the bottom in all this? Isn't it usually my butt getting the spanks, and much harder ones at that? Dear Reader, you are not alone in your surprise and possible wonderment at this scene as it plays out (unless you read Rosy Reset Button the other day, in which case you might have guessed round two was coming).

We are exploring different roles in our play. I am exploring the idea of femdom, especially "gentle femdom," (#gdf)  which I will write more about as I work through countless new feelings and fantasies. I am going through a sexual Renaissance of a sort. Everything is new and exciting and I suddenly really want to spank Mr. W, to enjoy him worshiping me and my body, and to honor him equally but in a new power relationship during sex play.

Since he'd done so well with the initial playful smacks, I wanted to give him a reward. I began to massage that most sensitive spot between his cheeks, rubbing tiny circles to coax the the tight wrinkly hole open. I leaned forward and kissed the top of his crack sloppily, letting a pool of saliva gather, then rubbing it down the length of the crack and using it to lubricate just the tip of my index finger.

As I pressed against the spot, he moaned and arched, letting me in. A careful visitor, I continued to circle and tease him, allowing his body to take me in rather than force my way, and soon he'd taken the full length of the finger inside his body. With  my left hand squeezing his ass cheeks, I slowly and gently allowed the finger to continue the massage from the inside.

After a short time, I pulled out and asked him if he was ready for me to spank him again. "Are you ready for more spanking?" I asked. "You can earn another round of those touches."

"Yes please," he answered from his throat, his voice deep, barely audible, evidently lustful.

"A little harder this time?"

"Yes please," he said again.

I didn't want to just go at it and make him hurt. I  wanted to build up a nice, warm, buzzy sensation. I began with single smacks to the curve of the bottom of each cheek, upward strokes allowing my palm to land right in that sweet spot then glide in a quick light glide over the rest of his ass. Smack and feathery tease. Back and forth I spanked, building a little warmth, a little pink, and when my hand began to feel a little warm too I rubbed his bottom vigorously. "Well done, well done," I whispered.

After I few moments to assure any sting remaining from the skin-to-skin contact had abated, I returned to the rhythm, smacking a fraction harder and leaving out the feathery touches. It wasn't hard, but in that moment I was spanking him and it felt incredible. He was under my power and he was trembling with pleasure. Endorphins and dopamine flowed. Back and forth, my hand found its happy home again and again. I found myself fantasizing about moving to a chair and taking him back over my lap, small paddle in hand, to continue the spanking and take him to the next sensory level.

Once again, when the light sting of his flesh against my palm signaled that he had warmed satisfactorily, I ceased spanking and rubbed, massaged, and kissed the whole - and the hole - of his backside. Salivating against the now not-so-tight little button, I murmured with my mouth full, "Ready?" Soon I had him gently but nonetheless impaled again on my index finger, sliding it in easily, crooking the tip of my finger to massage his prostate. "That's it," I whispered, encouraging him to melt into me loving him. "That's it, you beautiful man."

I was so ready for him to be inside me, but this time was for him. I made no move to change things up, but soon he indicated he was ready to change positions. As much as I wanted to keep playing with his ass, I hoped he was ready to fuck.

If you did read Rosy Reset Button, you'll know that this is my second time this past week attempting to allow myself to be "in charge" while giving Mr. W sensual attention. I may be exploring the idea of femdom, but I'm starting with just putting the focus on him, the same way he puts the focus on me when he is spanking and dominating me, and also giving myself permission to guide the scene. In Rosy Reset Button, we hadn't set the nature of our playtime first so he didn't realize that I was viewing myself as in charge. This time, I had thought the parameters were in place just by the act of what we'd been doing, but our usual personas showed up and created some awkward confusion.

I like to share even the sexy scenes that go awry because we are all human, and sometimes things go wrong when we're naked. It doesn't mean WE are wrong, or bad, or failures. It's easy to attach shame to our self-view when we don't get sex right, but the truth is, really great sex is a little bit lucky timing, a little skill, and an absolute ton of self knowledge. We can learn about ourselves and our partners by practicing, and what better activity to have to practice than sex?

As he got up, he leaned forward and kissed me between the legs. It seemed exactly the right act for him to fall into next and I opened my legs for further pussy-licking attention. At the same time, he realized just how dripping wet I was. A wet spot had formed where I'd been sitting with him over my lap. A large, wet, ready for it right now wet spot. My juices, before he went down to kiss me, had webbed my thighs.

"Young lady!" he admonished. He stopped kissing my clit and pulled back into a sitting position. Then he smacked that wet pussy! It was fucking hot. My pussy throbbed and it was probably a visible clench and release. He smacked it again, then again. It all happened very quickly and as soon as I was beyond aroused my brain kicked in. "Hey lady, weren't you in charge a moment ago?" My brain demanded explanation even as Mr. W began slapping the insides of my thighs.

I was so very wet at having spanked Mr. W, even lightly, even for play, and now all the control had been wrenched from my hands. The hands that had been powerful one moment were now pushed away from protecting my thighs. "How dare you get so wet, so aroused?" Mr. W, the character, wanted to know. I was his naughty little girl, the scene and relationship so familiar. Maybe he was my Daddy, punishing me for my lasciviousness. Maybe he was my Sir, in control of my body and I was aroused without permission. One thing I was NOT was a domme.

I burst into tears.

Crying after a spanking is pretty normal, and something I've done a gazillion times. Are you supposed to cry when you're the spanker though? And when you've barely done any spanking? I thought not.

I had thought myself the great protector and sexy sensual guide. Next thing you know, Mr. W has his arms tightly around me, he's leaned forward, his weight on my torso, his head on my shoulder, his breath as he pulls me close on my neck, my chin, my cheek, my ear. "I've got you," he whispered. As he always does when I need him, once I feel lost and unstable. "I've got you."

We talked then. I had a chance to explain that I'd been feeling really good and proud of myself, taking charge, trying something new with confidence, only to internalize the chastisement of the pussy and thigh slapping as a sign that me wanting to dominant him, even in play, was bad and a punishable offense. I felt tricked. I didn't feel that he had played me. It felt like the universe had teased me with strength and then took it all away.

"God no!" he answered. "You were so incredibly wet. Did you see this puddle?" He made me look at the spot soaked through the sheet. "You were that wet from touching and spanking me. It was so fucking hot. I just went for it." I was not in trouble with him or the universe after all.

We talked and laughed. We didn't get back to sex that night, favoring instead the connection we found emotionally and mentally afterward my tears. Mr. W has always been my top and switching to spanking and punishing me during sex was normal for him in that moment, so when he was turned on by how turned on I was, it just came naturally. Meanwhile, I'm trying something new and am learning that until it comes as second nature - as whipping my thighs and pussy does for Mr. W - I'm going to need to set up what I want for the scene ahead of time, which is advice I would give to anyone just exploring a new kink.

And in really fantastic news, now we know just how much spanking Mr. W seriously turns me on. Now I need to practice.

The Way We Play - Erotic Spanking Vignettes by N. Abby Williams

The Way We Play: Erotic Spanking Vignettes

by N. Abby Williams

is now available on Amazon!!!

The "N" is for Naughty!

Everybody, I did it! For ages I've been meaning to put together a collection of some of my favorite blog posts and release a collection that captures both the sexiness and the love that Mr. W and I put into our relationship and TTWD.

I've released it on Amazon for $1.49 as the first title from my very own spanking publishing house, TLRS Press. You can expect new never-before-read works from me soon. Someday, I hope to be publishing you as well!

These are the 12 posts included in The Way We Play, with links to the original posts. Take a free preview or read them all. If you choose to buy the collection on Amazon, I truly appreciate your patronage. Your support means more spanking goodness to come!

Core

Punchline to a Bad Day

Caught Wet Handed (sorry, can't find the original link)

Discomfort Me With Apples

Target Practice

Boston Strong

Kindling

Ginger Peach Popping

The Last Oregon Spanking

Light

My Body His Drum

That's What I Get

Rosy Reset Button

Last night, lying in bed exhausted after an unexpected romp with Mr. W, both of us well-medicated and fighting the flu but apparently also horny as hell, I felt giddy. I told him, "I feel like I'm going through puberty again, or I'm a teenager again, or, I don't know. I'm getting turned on by new and different things. I'm having new sensations. It's exciting."

I've found new delights as I build my Twitter feed. I've found myself turned on by things I had not considered, or things I had turned away from in the past. Everything feels new and sexy now; the orgasms are mine for the taking. I am so grateful to the community and to the individuals who are opening my eyes, even after a life of quiet devotion to sex and kink.

We've been talking about switching, something we've very lightly danced around before but never really tried. Now feels right. I've never been more comfortable in my body. I feel strong, I am a goddess and a warrior. I feel like I can channel this intensely feminine power into delivering fleshly delights to Mr. W's body and ecstasy throughout his mind, once I understand how to play his body as he plays mine.

If we'd been healthier, last night could have been the night. As it was, I couldn't resist asking him to lie across my lap as we watched Ripper Street on Netflix, a new favorite. I just meant to relax him, run my hands up and down his back, massage his bottom and the tops of his thighs. I'd spend long minutes running my short nails lightly across his backside, hip to hip, dipping into the crack for extra scritchy-scratches, teasing his skin then massaging deeply into the muscle, grabbing hold of each beautiful buttock at its root, kneading the flesh to coax out any lingering tightness. I just wanted him to be jelly over my lap, so he could rest and not get this flu bug as badly as I did.

Instead, his cock refused to go gently into our good night, so insistent was its firm knocking against the tops of my thighs that eventually I could not ignore its rapping.

"My pussy needs attention," I told him, trying out a more demanding sexual language than I would normally use.

He rolled off me and laid on his back, his ready cock an invitation. I climbed aboard, already so wet that he slid in with almost no friction. I began to grind and he was all mine for a moment. Then, my Daddy said something to his Naughty Daughter, except I hadn't had those characters in mind and it threw me off and I lost my rhythm. We've been pretty consistently playing with the Daddy thing lately, really having fun with it, I will be sharing more of that as well, don't you worry, but I was just in a different mental space last night and I was in charge - until I wasn't.

Mind you, this was two loving married sick people trying to make each other happy and relaxed before getting a good night's rest. I realized that both of us were trying to be in charge to take care of the other one. It wasn't a roleplay crisis, no communication breakdowns here. Just two people doing their best to be sexy for the other. He takes such incredible care of me. I'm really looking forward to a day in the near future when I get to tell him that I'm taking charge, and then I do. 

I stood up and invited him to the space at the end of the bed. I spread my legs wide and put my hands on the floor in front of me. "Why don't you press that rosy little reset button back there?" I said, wiggling my butt back and forth in front of him. I wasn't sure if he'd take that as in invitation to play with my asshole or smack my ass, but as should have been expected, he took it as an invitation to both.

A few good hard spanks to each cheek and an index finger deep inside my asshole later, we were back to fucking, deep and hard and soon I was bending forward into my knees and elbows, animalistically taking his cock from behind. I felt like a tigress about to burst forth from my own skin and I came hard and hard again, a guttural growl deep in my throat turning into a nice sexy cough as we finished.

I am going to warm that man up to a gorgeous pink and then drive his senses into overload with his first real spanking from his Wife and Mistress, Mrs. W. But until then, I am so glad this little Abby has her Mr. W, her husband, her Daddy, her best friend in this amazing smutty life to care of her.