Our guest author has kindly submitted another story about her real life introduction to the world of spanking. If you missed the earlier post check it out here: The Awakening.
And without further ado:
* * *
Being in the field of psychiatric care has its ups and downs and one of
them is that clients can become violent toward perceived authority
figures, especially females.
Last time I wrote of my first experience having been spanked by my
husband. I told you I was a housewife and this is still largely true,
well it is now anyway! However a month or so after that first spanking
my husband had relented and let me return to work on a very part time
basis, working as an agency nurse for no more than 24hrs a week. This
agreement was on the condition that I didn't attend any wards with
forensic patients. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this term,
it means that the client is dangerous to themselves or others and often
Stupidly, I decided to ignore this specific instruction and for 3 weeks
in a row had attended a maximum security ward. I thought I'd made a
decent compromise as this ward only detained female offenders but it
turns out I was wrong as on the 5th of 8 planned shifts I was violently
assaulted leading to nothing more than a few angry bruises and a bruised
ego. Unfortunately those bruises were on my face and there would be no
way to hide them from my husband.
When I got home, I applied the entire contents of my makeup bag in the
hope of at least reducing the apparent severity of the marks. They were
surprisingly not that painful but they looked shocking. My husband
returned and stopped dead when he saw my face. I confidently lied to him
telling him that a confused dementia patient had lashed out during
bathing time. He dutifully nodded through my tall tale and then flatly
replied 'well, you can show me the signing off slip from the ward'. This
is a slip every cover nurse receives signed off by the nurse in charge
to be presented as proof of work to the agency they are supplied from in
order to receive payment. Unfortunately on this slips are the details
of the place of work too!
I wisely decided not to lie further and presented the paperwork,
admitting that it was in fact a forensic ward and trying to reason that
the hourly rate was far superior to that of EMI care. He said nothing,
staring at me for the longest time and when he did speak, I cried with
'Well. I did tell you last time what would happen if you disobeyed me. I
told you that if it was particularly bad that you'd be getting my belt
across your behind too. I don't feel comfortable hitting you while
you're still so bruised but you can expect your punishment on the
weekend when you're better. Right now you can call the agency and tell
them you'll no longer be taking on any work. With the sorts of injuries
I've seen you with I. The past, you know why I don't want this for you
anymore. I know that you want to help people but you can do that in
other ways. What is wrong with the juvenile detention art classes?'.
I opened my mouth to protest but nothing came. He was right. Earlier in
the relationship I'd received a broken nose and collapsed lung in a very
frightening altercation and had promised back then that i wouldn't
nurse anymore. I'd really let myself and my husband down. The week came
and went, and I'd get the odd furtive pat on my behind as I walked past
him round the apartment and he would occasionally look at my eye to
check for any anomalies. My stomach was knotted every night. Even though
I'd physiologically enjoyed my first spanking, I didn't care much for
the thought of being beaten with a belt and the humiliation of being
punished like a child still didn't sit well with me either. When Saturday morning came felt sick as a dog. It was his day off and I knew he intended to deal with me.
After breakfast I stood to leave the counter but he stopped me, holding
my hand and tugging gently. I took a seat and waited for the inevitable.
He told me he was going to punish me but this time it would be
different. I was to go and wait for him in our room after retrieving my
hairbrush from the bathroom and his 'old' belt from out of his jeans. My
mouth desiccated at the thought and as I rose to leave again he hugged
I was off kilter by that juxtaposition. The tender embrace and on coming
spanking renewed tears in my eyes. I didn't bother to change as I was
already in my night dress and so I simply placed the brush on the bed
and went to get the belt. It was a fairly wide, totally flat belt made
of soft and supple calf leather. It had little cracks along its edges
and I had no idea how much those would cause me grief during my
punishment. I laid it next to the hairbrush and sat down.
He arrived around half an hour later and again his sleeves had been
rolled back, most out of character. I peered up at him through a watery
glaze of tears as he reminded me slowly why he didn't like me nursing
and how he would back me in doing anything else at all if I wanted to.
When we was finished he ordered me to stand to his left while he took a
seat and furtively patted his knees. I hesitantly lowered myself over
him and he instantly hooked his free calf over both of my own. I was
He smoothed the hair from my face and told me he loved me almost at
exactly the same time as the first bite of that infernal brush punched
into my skin. I yelped immediately. How could I have forgotten that pain
so quickly?! I was so digging my toes into the floor, my knuckles white
as I gripped his leg and the comforter, trying to breathe through it
and absorb the sensation. He seemed to have improved his technique
miraculously as it hurt so much more this time around. He paddled every
inch of my from mid cheek to mid thigh, four or five brisk spanks to
each targeted area. I was growing hoarse as the fire burned behind me
and I grew too tired to cry out and instead settled for plaintive moans.
After what seemed a life time but was probably in reality around 5 or
so minutes he let me stand. I motioned to touch my burning nates but he
caught my hand and shook his head.
So I stood there before him dumbly waiting for instruction. Between this
incident and my first spanking I had googled such things quite a lot
and so I expected to either be laying face up with my legs up, or face
down flat on the bed or of course bent over the bed. Being ever
practical, he had me wait as he piled pillows and the folded comforter
in the center of the bed and told me to get over them. I mounted the
feather filled mountain and cringed as my scorched flesh pulled taught
to accommodate the ridiculous angle I'd assumed. I felt so exposed with
my haunches upturned that way and I waited for the pain to come, but
there was nothing. He told me not to move and left the room.
I must have been waiting for at least forty five minutes when he
returned. In that time the dampness between my thighs had entirely grown
out of control and so had my fear of the belt that lay inconspicuously
beside me. Felt him pick up the offending article and he moved in front
of me so I could see him as he wrapped the buckle end around his hand.
'I don't want you endangering yourself anymore. Do you understand? If I
can't trust you to keep yourself safe and to respect the decisions we
make together I will have to assume I need to make them for you and I
don't want to do that. Now you need to keep still when I'm using this.
It is going to hurt a lot more and I will give you time to catch your
breath but if you move and I hit you at the same time it could be really
unpleasant. You must keep still. Now, are you ready for your whipping?'
I honestly don't see the point in rhetorical questions of that sort.
Obviously I wasn't ready. Obviously at that point I'd have happily said,
actually no shall we reconvene on the 32nd of February? But of course I
said nothing and nodded through my tears. He moved behind me and I
assume was getting a good stance as I could hear him shuffling for a
moment or so before I heard the tremendous crack as leather met flesh.
For that cliche split second I thought 'this isn't so bad' and then my
nerves did their thing and a literally screamed NO at the top of my
lungs. He emphatically declared 'yes' under his breath and delivered the
next stripe directly below the first. Now my nerves didn't seem to get
that precious delay and every stroke burned and ached just like the
last. He whipped me slowly, again from mid buttock though he stopped
just short of my thighs. They were parted anyway in order for me to keep
my balance over the mound of pillows.
He stopped abruptly after what I had roughly counted to be 14 strokes
and I said a silent prayer for the end of my punishment. He crossed to
the other side of the bed and without warning, my cheeks having relaxed
with the false sense of security, he started up again, rehashing over
every stripe he'd previously laid on and I felt as though my skin was
coming away. I cried freely; great big cathartic sobs that shook my
entire body. Again he stopped abruptly though this time I was not so
easily fooled. I stayed prone but shaking. He quietly told me to put my
legs together because he was going to strap my thighs. I wailed at this
instruction, utterly howled as I knew that just like with the hair brush
the belt would hurt so much more on my thighs. I obeyed, my purchase on
the pillows precarious in doing so. He waited for me to settle and then
laid three searing strokes in quick succession across my upper thighs
and then changed to the other side, repeating them and only then did I
know that my ordeal was over.
He rasped as though he'd exhausted himself and I suppose he had. I
rasped because I'd screamed my voice away and was sure I'd be hoarse for
days to come thereafter too. After I finally had regained composure he
helped me into a seated position on his knee. It hurt terribly to sit
but I nuzzled into him anyway. After a while, the urgency of his arousal
distracted me and I moved against it, kissing his neck and sighing in
his ear. He laughed to himself at my need and lifted me onto the bed,
telling me to get onto all fours. I was momentarily mortified at the
prospect of more strokes but happily saw him removing his pants. Another,
slightly less alarming thought crossed my mind as I wandered just how
much it would hurt as he took me from behind....