Have self-spanked before

Wednesday, February 1, 2017

The Awakening - Part II (M/F)

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:

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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 criminally culpable.

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 relief.

'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 me hard.

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 stuck.

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....

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