Spanking Diet for a Vanilla Wife, a tale by Sue

Hello erinlass, I am married to a wonderful man who has one unfortunate character trait, he likes to spank me. The less clothing I have protecting me the more he seems to like it. His idea of perfection seems to be causing extreme fires to be lit in my bare cheeks. Because of his confessed love of spanking I decided to investigate this perversion (he calls it a kink) of his. Now I have got over my amazement about how many similar perverts are out there I realise there must be hundreds of women that are in the same position as me. This letter is just to let them know, if they too find your site, that they are not alone, and how I continue to live with and love a spanking pervert.

I met Daz (Darren) 12 years ago and we have been very happily married for almost 10.We have two lovely kids, a decent home and a good lifestyle that Daz’s salary easily supports. I discovered his dark secret shortly after the birth of our firstborn. I am a believer in breast-feeding, but as soon as I was well enough to, I came home Daz always did his fair share. He would wash and clean so I could rest between feeds, changing nappies were a pleasure for him, even when he joked about the smell. He would cuddle the baby, carry it about when he was doing other things. We always enjoyed an active sex life, and because Daz is so supportive, I never felt too exhausted to indulge him in bed even before I felt well enough to begin full sex again. We were in bed, cuddling and playing and I remember Daz was on his back, leaning against the headboard. I reached across him to sip from the orange juice we keep on the bedside table. As I did this Daz began to scrape down my spine with one hand and rub my thighs with the other, something he knows I love. I remember settling down across his legs to indulge myself. Daz began to stroke my bottom as well as my thighs, sometimes tickling me a little. I admit I was still enjoying this, even when he stopped stroking my thighs and bottom and just patted my cheeks, it still felt good, and in fact I probably wiggled my bum a little.

When I felt his hand begin to pat a little harder and a lot faster I giggled a little and looked over my shoulder at him.

“Having fun?” I said. He stopped, chuckled and said, “yes, you’re bottom looks lovely bouncing about and turning pink.” His hand slapped my cheeks just enough to make it less of a game and he went quiet for a few seconds, his hand stroking my bottom again.

“Susan,” he said, “would you mind if I spanked you like a schoolgirl, or like a wife who had disobeyed her husband?” When I turned round to look at him I saw that he was looking down sheepishly. Shyness in bed has never been a problem for us and I have to give the dope his due, he lifted his eyes to look straight into mine.

“Spank me? Spank me?” I said. With hindsight I know this sounds dumb but I was genuinely shocked. “Are you serious?” I continued, “Do you really want to spank me? What’s brought this on?”

“I won’t if you don’t want to of course,” Daz said. “But yes I have always liked the idea of spanking, and every time I see your bare bottom when you get ready for bed or go for a shower I want to smack it. I know it’s daft but that is the way I feel.” His hand had begun to stroke my bare cheeks again and I could feel my buttocks tightening at the thought. This was the first time I had ever felt anything like nervous in bed with him.

Some people might say it is my fault because I encouraged him but you must remember this is the man I married because I loved him. I had just recently had a child with him and we had never drawn back from experimenting in bed. The other thing is I honestly expected a few playful smacks that would maybe sting a little, then a giggly cuddle then smooching. I wanted to please him, I wanted to show I was willing to try new things because I trusted him so I made a quick decision.

“Of course you can spank me if you want to,” I said, quickly continuing “but you will stop if I ask you to won’t you? If it hurts too much?”

Daz’s smiles was enough to make me glad of my decision, and when he said “Sue, you know I will, I would never do anything that you didn’t want me to. Are you sure you want to try this?” I felt warm and loving and loved. “Yes of course I want to try if you do,” I replied. His hand pressed against my bottom and he whispered, “Ready?”

No sooner had I nodded and said “Yes” his hand lifted and slammed down on my bottom! This wasn’t playful, this was bloody hard smacking. I was so shocked that the second smack had landed before I reacted. I squealed then screamed “SHIT” as the third and fourth smacks set my cheeks on fire I was shouting “DAMN, FUCK STOPPIT” and began kick my legs. Daz landed two more slaps before he realised I was pushing myself off his lap and shouting “Daz damn it stop it you bastard.” By the time he looked at me I was kneeling on the bed rubbing my butt as though I could erase the sting, glaring at him, closer now than I ever have been to really not liking him, even if only temporarily.

“I’m sorry Sue, I’m sorry,” he said urgently, reaching for me. I was so angry I pushed his hands away and went back to rubbing my poor blazing cheeks. “Jesus Christ Daz,” I said forcefully, “that wasn’t funny, what did you think you were doing?”

Daz looked sorry, reached for my shoulders and said ”I’m sorry Sue, I didn’t think I spanked you that hard. And now I know you don’t like it I won’t ever ask you to do it again. Honest Sue I won’t ever do that again. Can you forgive me? I really am sorry.” My butt still hurt like hell, there were tears of anger and pain in my eyes and I was still rubbing away like a delinquent trying to hide evidence of his graffiti activity. “You’re damned right it won’t happen again” I said, getting off the bed and wrapping myself in a dressing gown. I stormed out with as much dignity as a grown woman can who is still rubbing a sore, spanked bottom. Downstairs I put the kettle on and made a pot of tea. I suddenly smiled ruefully and put two cups, milk and sugar on the tray. It wasn’t really his fault, the big old meanie pervert, and after all I did agree.

When I returned to the bedroom and handed hi a cup with a straight face he said quietly, “thanks Sue, sorry about that.” He knew that the tea meant he was forgiven, I could never really stay mad at him, especially when he was genuine in his apology. I did though sit on the bed next to him far enough away that he knew that though he was forgiven I wasn’t ready yet to be friends again, at least not while my bottom still hurt. We sat and drank tea in a strained silence. Eventually I turned to him and asked, “Did you actually enjoy that? Enjoy hurting me? Do you mean you really want to do things like that?” When I looked at him he had the grace to look a little ashamed.

He turned to look at me and said softly, “I said I won’t ask you to do that again Sue, but yes you looked pretty damn wonderful to me, I thoroughly enjoyed spanking you, but now I feel rotten because you didn’t enjoy it. I am ashamed I did something you found distasteful. I cannot help being who and what I am, but I can make sure I never put you in that position again.”

Like a fool, like all women who love their husbands I suppose, I began to feel sorry for him. As the pain left my bottom I began to see the funny side, I smiled and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “It’s OK Daz, you told me, asked me and I agreed. Just so you understand I wasn’t amused at all.” He smiled and said “Yes, you made that obvious, the noise you made, the way you kicked about.” I couldn’t help but laugh as I punched his shoulder and said “You absolute beast!” I remember he reached for me to cuddle me, slipped a hand inside my gown to fondle a breast and whispered in my ear ”Can I kiss your bottom better Sue? Kiss it all better, all over” I shivered at his touch and moaned “No you can’t you beast.” But of course later he had his way and kissed my rear better. He was so tender and careful to pander to my every whim that night, as though paying back a debt.

That should have been the end of it I suppose, but I couldn’t leave it alone. I wanted to know what made my husband a pervert. Over the next few months I would occasionally ask him questions about his weird urges. Daz was patient with me and explained as much as he could, and over the weeks I slowly began to understand the theory of Dom / sub relationships but my heart still rebelled at the thought, (as did my bottom I suppose). Sometimes I would deliberately needle him to see how he would react. He unfailingly acted as the sweet and loving husband I married.

A few months after my first spanking we were having a heated “discussion” as most couples do occasionally. It had started over nothing and escalated. The subject of the argument wasn’t important. We were both in the wrong, but I was probably more wrong than him. At one point he was jabbing the air with his finger to emphasise a point. I said to goad him, “Don’t you shout and point your finger like that at me, you don’t frighten me, what are you going to do next? Spank me? Again? Try and bully me into agreeing with you?” He went quiet and still, just then the baby began to cry and Daz turned on his heel and went to tend the baby. I heard him whispering, calming the baby, heard the love in his voice, knew I had been mean, was too proud (stubborn? Obstinate?) to admit it. When Daz came back he was cuddling the baby, whispering reassuringly to it. He looked at me and said quietly “Sue, you know I promised I would never spank you again, I wish you wouldn’t bring that up like that. I know our argument was silly, I know we were provoking each other, but whatever happens you know I love you and wouldn’t hurt you.”

I felt lousy, about as big as a slug that had crawled in under the door. The worst bit was I knew he wasn’t trying to manipulate me, he was being totally honest, speaking from the heart. I ran from the room and did what we girls do, had a good cry. Later I came back and saw Daz was sitting watching TV, the baby was back in bed and all was peaceful. I went and sat on his lap and cuddled up close, he kissed the top of my head and when I murmured “sorry about that,” he just whispered back, “Don’t worry, it’s forgotten.” I lofted my head to kiss him, and things progressed along their natural course. Eventually I stood up in my bra and pants to make it easier to strip naked for him. I looked down at him, made a decision, one that I didn’t even know I was going to make.

“Daz,” I said, continuing only after I knew I had his full attention. “This has got nothing to do with the argument we had. We were both right and both wrong. But since we have been together we have done things for each other we don’t always like doing. You are probably better at doing things for me than I am for you. I think it is only fair that sometimes I should let you spank me if you enjoy it so much.” I swallowed hard after this little speech.

“No Sue,” he said, “there is no need for that, I know you find the thought frightening and perverse, I already said the argument is forgotten. You have nothing to make amends for”.

“I know that!” I said, a little miffed he was throwing my sacrifice back at me. “I don’t owe you a thing, but you are my husband, you have needs and likes and urges, are you saying you don’t want to spank me now?”

“Sue, apart from the child and my love for you, you know there is nothing I can think of that I would enjoy so much. But I am not going to hurt you, I don’t want to force you into acts against your will.”

As usual I, the woman had to take the decision from the poor man’s hands. I slipped my panties down and scrambled across his lap, resting across the bed. My bottom was more or less in front of him. “Daz, this is for you, I want to do it, but please no more than the six smacks you gave me last time. No harder. I didn’t actually cry last time just squealed a bit, so I should be all right. I want you to take what I offer, no more talking, just do it. It’s OK, I am stronger than you think”.

When he whispered “Thank you sweetheart” and put his hard right hand on my right cheek I thought “Oh Jesus, what have I done?” I felt his hand lift and braced for the impact. My memory had been playing tricks, it wasn’t like I remembered, it hurt like bloody hell as his hand slammed first my right cheek then my left. I squealed “Ouch, shit, oww Daz!” as each blow landed, my legs began to kick. I reached my right hand behind me to cover my red-hot cheeks, he grabbed my wrist in his left hand and smacked my bottom twice more, increasing the pain and my voice level. “OWCH, FUCK!!” I screeched. When Daz released my hand I reached back with undignified speed and began to rub furiously. Twisting a bit I pulled my left hand free from where his body had locked it and used both hands, not caring what I looked like or what he thought as I began a litany of “SHIT DAMN FUCK SHIT DAMN” over and over. As the pain ebbed I came to understand that though there were tears of pain in my eyes I had managed to stay more or less in place and had not shouted stop, even if I had shouted abuse.

When I calmed I looked over my shoulder I saw he was smiling lovingly down at me. “Did you enjoy that?” I asked, “was it what you wanted, did you mind I was a baby and screamed, did you mind the bad language?” I was still rubbing but now so was Daz. “It was great Sue, the squeals are fine, I would have preferred you to accept the spanking gracefully but I didn’t really mind the language.” Hearing the genuine pleasure in his voice I began to think that the short period of pain might actually be worth it. Soon he turned me over so he could kiss me tenderly, he slipped my bra off and again he was so incredibly tender in his lovemaking.

Over the years he has spanked me on numerous occasions, but he has never actually asked me, it was always at my instigation. I usually made an effort to treat him at Christmas, his birthday, and sometimes just as a surprise to cheer him up. Using willpower I have toughened myself to accept his spankings without using abusive language, but I still hate it and squeal my pain and distaste. There was an occasion a while ago where we had been discussing whether to change the car or landscape the garden. He wanted the car and I wanted the garden for the kids and me. I forced the decision by getting quotes from the garden centre. Shortly after we got our beautiful garden the car broke down. He went a bit over the top in his sulking so I thought after he cooled down a bit I had better sweeten him up. I offered to accept a double spanking, six swats, a break and then six more. Big Mistake! The pig accepted! That really did hurt, but you would have been proud of me, I got half way through the second set before he had to grab my hand and hold it away from where I had put it to shield my laser hot cheeks.

But the garden really IS just what me and the kids need, and now we have a new car as well, just a few months later than he wanted. Typical man, priorities are all wrong.

We became more open about his perversion, I asked more questions, asked if he had any more fantasies and he told me he would love to paddle my ass and one day would love to see what it looked like with cane lines on it. I said he could wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which got full first! The thought made me go pale and shiver. Later when he talked again about his perverse thoughts I said he could make a paddle and get a cane and hang them in the wardrobe if he wanted to and pretend I was his sub who would submit to his diabolical whims. I told him though he had better understand that there was no way this side of Hell he would ever get to use them! He smiled happily and would you believe it that within a week I had a paddle and a bamboo cane hanging from brass hooks inside MY side of the wardrobe. Apparently this is symbolic, as though I acquired them at his bequest. I do love the man but his mind is far weirder than I realised. If only he had been straight and normal like me he would be perfect.

So we settled into our relationship, I know he won’t stray because I provide for all his needs and he is so attentive of mine. Sometimes when I decide to tease him by telling him early he can spank me that night he will be waiting in the bedroom holding the paddle. He puts it back when I enter as though he has decided to be lenient. I told him that the first time he doesn’t I am going out quicker than I came in. Daz is still a pervert in my eyes but I consider myself lucky, he looks after his family so well and we want for nothing. His perversion is a small price, one I pay willingly to make him happy.

After our second child was born our lives were complete, he got to practise his filthy habits sometimes on my bottom, the kids and me continued to enjoy all the benefits a loving hard working breadwinner could provide. Somehow though after the second child I put on weight and this time didn’t shed it. We go as a family to the pool, Daz and I take turns looking after the kids in the wave pool while the other swims. I take the kids on my own sometimes but didn’t seem to have the energy to swim after the kids were finished and back in their pushchairs. I was still wearing loose dresses months after the birth, but refusing to accept the facts. Soon it was too obvious, I couldn’t deny what my mirror was telling me any more. When I stood in front of the bedroom mirror and bemoaned my ballooning body Daz always said he loved me without reservation, bless him. Indeed his attentions never faltered, either in bed or when I treated him and let him apply his twisted predilections on my bottom.

I started to try out all the popular diets, going from fad to fad. Daz supported me, never really said much when I slipped and binged. Finally I stepped off the scales one night horrified I was 35 pounds over my usual weight. I became rather verbose in my self-castigation. Daz didn’t help by offering to paddle me when I broke my diet next! I told him yet again that there was NO WAY he was going to get to paddle me, his hands were bad enough! Two weeks later I was another pound heavier and I knew I had to do something. A plan wormed its’ way into my head, a plan I knew would work for two reasons. My very real fear and my desire to put one over Daz. That night I told him I was finally determined to put myself back in order. I told him I intended to eat sensibly and exercise, not necessarily diet to lose weight. Daz said he was pleased but from his voice he gave the impression he had heard it all before and didn’t think this time would be different.

He sat up straight though when I told him I would weigh myself every two weeks and he could paddle me if I failed to lose weight. He wanted to know if I would bend over properly to be paddled and would he be allowed to paddle my bare bum. I was so confident I would work hard to win the bet I agreed to this. The smarmbag looked like the cat that got the cream, I was even more determined now. When he asked what penalty the paddling would be I asked what he thought. I should have guessed, his perverted side wanted to pretend he had control and suggested three strokes for breaking my word and one for each pound gained. I agreed but asked what was in it for me if I lost the weight. My targets were 20 pounds for a leather jacket and a designer two piece suit for the full 36 pounds. Easy Peasy I thought.

I began the very next day, sensible food, exercise in the pool three times a week and all went well. I lost four pounds the first week then about a pound and a half every week thereafter. Even though he was in effect denying himself Daz helped all he could. He encouraged me to do “just a few more lengths.” He gave me fruit whenever I said I was hungry, he even ate healthy himself in my presence. In three months I was parading through the house in my new jacket, and Daz, bless him, was just as pleased as me. I was so pleased and grateful to him for sharing my pleasure he got to spank me that night. I was so happy I was glad to let him let his dark side show briefly. When I was within ten pounds of my final target a series of circumstances seemed to conspire against me. I had my period, the eldest had a birthday party and I seemed to want all the sweet stuff. The pool closed for its’ annual maintenance, then the youngest had to go in hospital briefly and I did a lot of comfort eating to stay calm. I was so relieved when the child was released and we were told it was a full recovery, I over indulged with Daz on wine and food. Two days later I realised it was time to weigh myself. I half guessed what the result might be. Daz the angel offered to wait for two more weeks for the weigh-in. I said a bargain was a bargain and stepped on the scales.

I paled I think, I certainly felt weak as I looked across at Daz and said “two pounds up,” in a very soft voice. Daz immediately hugged me and said “No Sue, don’t worry, after what we have been through let’s just forget it. Leave it a while.” My heart leapt, I was tempted to accept but heard myself say “No, I made a deal and we shall stick to it. The kids are away with their grans tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be ready.” That lovely husband of mine argued some more, he was willing to forego his perverse pleasures because of his love for me. In the end I took the matter out of his hands by playing him at his own game.

“Look you,” I said, “you want me to act like a sub for your perverted games, I made a bargain so at least show me the respect I deserve when I try to honour that bargain.” Damn but I don’t know when to keep quiet and accept gifts that are thrust at me! Daz managed to look sad for me, proud of me, pleased for himself all at the same time. “Very well Sue,” he said, “while I drop the kids off tomorrow will you get yourself, the chair and the paddle ready?” I managed a nod and went out before he saw just how scared I was. The rest of that day I slaved over the housework to keep my body and mind busy. That night I made love almost desperately trying to keep my thoughts away from the morrow’s action. I succeeded for all of two minutes at a time. I woke early, made breakfast for all and spent an inordinate amount of time getting the kids ready, putting off the inevitable for as long as I could. The funny thing is I could have just said I was sorry and couldn’t go through with it to Daz and he would have accepted it, but the thought never entered my head, honest. Finally I walked out to the car with Daz and the kids kissed all three and waved goodbye as they drove off.

I made my way back into the house with a heavy tread and went upstairs. I pulled the chair from under the dressing table into the middle of the room. I remember looking in the mirror and being amazed at how calm I looked, even when I practised bending over and gripping the seat of the chair. Damn but this was going to be unpleasant. I went to the wardrobe and looked at the bamboo cane and the paddle hanging side by side. I had got used to them being there, but now all of a sudden they seemed ominous and threatening again. Suddenly, before I could hesitate, I became efficient, lifted the paddle from the hook and carried it over to the chair, placing it on the seat. Looking down at it my stomach felt hollow, I was as nervous as I had ever been as I thought about what was going to happen when Daz returned. Thinking about the pleasure the perverted bastard was going to get I determined to minimise it. I went to my chest and removed my clothes and make up, tied my hair back and slipped on a bra and short tank top that didn’t cover any of my ass. Slipping on a bathrobe I went back to the chair and practised slipping off the robe and bending forward to grip the seat. I thought that would stop the pig from ordering me to remove my panties and other stuff. (I hate him, he said later he was turned on by the fact I had prepared myself for him and cleaned myself to present myself looking so innocent and obedient!) Yes I admit it, once or twice when I practised bending over I put the paddle against my bottom and tried to imagine what it would feel like. It was surprisingly light and very cool to the touch. The worst part started then, the last five minutes waiting for king pervert to return. It seemed to take ages, then when I heard the car pull into the drive and the engine stop my heart leapt into my mouth. I stood up as the car door slammed and turned to face the door, trying to look dignified in my robe with my hands by my sides. My throat turned dry when the front door opened and closed and I heard him trotting up the stairs, the eager bugger! Suddenly he was there in front of me, and something melted, he looked so damn proud of me, his love for me and his pleasurable anticipation shone from his eyes. Why oh why didn’t he look and act like a pervert? He nodded and walked towards me, stood in front of me. His eyes stared into mine, he seemed to be silently questioning me. God knows what he saw but he seemed to come to a decision and nod. Then he spoke.

“Sue, you promised me you would lose weight. You have broken that promise. You understand the consequences of your act and the penalties that you agreed to accept, are you now ready to receive that penalty?” I was affronted, the pervert was also pompous, I wasn’t going to play that game!

“I said I would lose weight, I said you could paddle me if I put it back on, which OK I have. So you can paddle me five times, like we said, but I am not going to count them or thank you for them or anything, the paddling is bad enough!” He looked at me and nodded. “Very well,” he said, “pass me the paddle please, then turn and prepare yourself, bend over the chair and present your bare bottom.” I wanted to scream “get lost” but I couldn’t, don’t ask me why, I just couldn’t. Maybe it was because of everything that he had given me over the years, his love of me and the kids, his generosity. He was a pervert, but my pervert, for better and for worse, now was the time for worse. Even though I had decided to pander to his unnatural practices I admit I was less than graceful in my acceptance. I turned, picked up the paddle and just thrust it out towards him. As soon as he took it I didn’t wait to see whether he would fondle it, kiss it whatever, I just turned to face the chair, unbelted and shrugged my robe off my shoulders so it fell in a puddle at my feet. Quickly I bent down and gripped the sides of the chair seat.

Despite my earlier practise I suddenly realised I wasn’t prepared. It suddenly hit me I was standing naked from the waist down, bent over offering my bare ass to some pervert who was going to beat it. It was OK for him, he was into these perverted acts I wasn’t! I could feel a silent scream bouncing around in my head. I could feel the cool air whistling between my legs and around my ass. I was angry, terrified and numb all at the same time. My head felt light, my knees were truly weak. I felt a movement and suddenly Daz was in the corner of my vision, on my left side. I felt the cool paddle laid right across the middle of my bottom. I opened my mouth to shout stop, meant to stand up but couldn’t! I cannot explain it, but some part of me made me do my best to keep my promise. I felt and heard his weight shift as the paddle was lifted from my cheeks. I held my breath, felt the bottom drop out of my stomach, and then heard a strange whoosh followed by a solid THWACKK sound. I felt a thud on my cheeks and remember an instant of relief, thinking I would be able to manage this.

“Owwwchie!!!!!” I somehow found myself clutching my bottom, rubbing and doing a little short stepped walk in a circle. “Shit, OWWW damn shit, that hurts, shit,” I continued. After that thud I couldn’t believe the sting that raced across my bottom and up my spine to my brain. Some people LIKE this? God they must be weird, must be real oddballs. The pain settled into a sort of fiery stinging heat and I managed to look at Daz who was standing calmly, watching me.

“Enough sweetheart?” he said, “Do you want to stop?” How can these people do this? His face was blank, no expression but I could sense his hope, knew how disappointed he would be. By doing nothing and leaving it to me he was applying more pressure than if he had ranted and raved like the perverted Dom wierdo he actually is. I looked at him and said, “No I shall stick to our bargain, I stood in front of the chair again taking a few deep breaths, steeling myself.

“Very well, Sue. You are supposed to remain in place till the penalty is paid in full. Please try to so do. Shall we start again?” My head whipped round to look at him, again his face was devoid of expression. “No way, Jose,” I said. Five we said, five you get, four more and no more!” No trace of disappointment showed the bastard! He nodded, “Very well, please present your bottom again.”

Then I did the hardest, bravest, daftest thing I had done in my life to date. I bent over and clutched the edge of the chair seat, offering my reddened ass again to my deviant., pervert husband. I actually shuffled back a bit to settle more weight on my shoulders, and spread my legs wider for better balance. I remember thinking in a corner of my brain that I WOULD stay in place and not let him have the added pleasure of humiliating me and watching me hop about the room. I was past caring what the pervie bugger could see and would think. Hell he had seen it all before, now it was more important to settle myself best I could and get through this ordeal.

I felt the cool paddle high on my right buttock and thought, “Yes you bastard, spread it, make sure ALL my bottom stings!” I was trying to psyche myself up, determined to beat the smug shit at his own game. When the paddle lifted I took in half a breath and held it. I felt the solid THWACK again just after the whoosh.

“NNnnnnnnn” I groaned as my hips thrust forward, instinctively trying to get away from the paddle I suppose. Jesus but this was bad, I couldn’t feel the original sting now, the new pain in my right cheek was the only thing I was aware of, and boy was I aware of it. Shit this really was horrible, the pain was terrible. Somehow I managed to hang onto the chair seat. I couldn’t rub, so somehow I was trying to make the sting go away by bending my knees and squatting a few inches then straightening. It didn’t work but I couldn’t stop, damn but I bet the sicko was loving the show! Give him his due, he said nothing, waited patiently for me to settle down and when I became still he put the paddle against the top of my left cheek. When it lifted I held my breath again and closed my eyes wondering if that would help. I recognised the whooosh THWACKK and thud.

“Sshhhheeeeeee” I expelled my breath in a long gasp through gritted teeth. He had caught me exactly where he had placed the paddle, my bottom was on fire now! Jesus the sadistic bugger was killing me. My left leg was lifting and kicking in a vain attempt to make the pain go away, then I started squatting and straightening again. I could feel a sheen of sweat starting, was my body trying to cool itself? Damn but it hurt. Why didn’t I just walk away? I don’t know, never will. I forced myself to straighten and offer my bottom again, thinking three down just two to go. I felt him put the paddle on the soft lower part of my right cheek, on the soft flesh just above the crease of my thigh, the bit he loves to kiss. Even as I registered the position, knew it was vulnerable I felt the paddle lift. The whoosh and the THWACK sound and the thud of impact followed.

“Nnmmmmmahhh” I somehow held onto the seat as I was actually lifted onto my toes, I stamped my right foot a couple of times, began my squatting again, this time twisting my hips too, damn and blast but the fire was white hot now. Never again would childbirth pain hold any fear for me, shit but this really hurt. I settled my weight from one foot to the other a few times then somehow I managed to settle again, my knuckles were white on the seat, sweat was trickling down my flanks but all I could feel was that terrible sting. He placed the paddle where I knew he would, probably the only white bit left on my bottom, the soft part of my left cheek. Again the paddle lifted, again the whooosh, THWACK sound and the solid thud an instant before the agonising sting.

“Jeeeeeeesus” I groaned, squatting so deep I was almost kneeling in front of the chair. I was holding onto the seat like a drowning man holding the last liferaft! I slowly straightened, then squatted again. And again rotating my hips, thrusting in circles but never letting go of the chair. My entire poor bare bottom felt as though it had been heated by a blowtorch, it was just one big sting.

I heard Daz murmur “That’s five Sue.” Damn it I can count, did he think I was lost somewhere in his perverted dreams? Somehow I managed to straighten with my bottom again in that damned vulnerable position and from somewhere inside me, in a secret obstinate place that would not be subdued a small defiant flame made me gasp out. “Yes, but now give me that other one you wanted to give me for moving. Just do it damn you.”

Daz seemed to go very still and quiet. Then his weight shifted and he placed the paddle carefully across the middle of my ass. “Damn,” I thought, “That’s where you started, not there again.” But of course it was the obvious spot, at least it had had a rest while the sicko had played his diabolical tune on the rest of my tender rear. I braced myself, felt the paddle lifted clear, heard the dreaded whooosh, heard the THWACKK and felt the thud.

“AAGhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” What emerged was a cry of pain, triumph, and a mix of emotions. I had won! I was in a great deal of pain, the stinging heat was deep inside my ass, jesus it hurt like hell. I was dancing in place, moving quickly from foot to foot, then squatting , then kicking and then dancing again. But let me tell you, I DID NOT LET GO OF THAT FUCKING CHAIR! Sorry about the language, but I did it, me, the vanilla, I did it. For me, or him, and why I don’t know. Soon the pain became manageable, a mere bonfire of the buns, I straightened and with as much dignity as I could muster I asked with a soft, pain filled voice, “Can I get up now?” I know I didn’t have to ask the pervert for permission, but I was beyond rational thought, somehow it was part of my personal competition. “Of course Sue, yes of course.”

His voice sounded strange, I stood and turned to him ready to see naked pleasure on his sick face, the bastard.

What I saw melted me. He was staring at me in wonder, and love, and pride, and tenderness. He had looked at me like that the day we shared our vows, the day our kids were born, and many other private shared moments. This queer, strange sick pervert really did love me. I half stepped towards him and he dropped the paddle and held me close as I collapsed into his arms. His look of love had burst the dam, I cried and cried and cried as I buried my face on his chest. I cried and sobbed so much I was almost hiccuping. I was gasping “Why? You hurt so much. Why did you do it? It stings so.” He was gently shushing me and whispering in my ear “Shh it’s ok now darling, it’s over, you were magnificent, I am so proud of you.” All the time the strength and security of his arms were there, slowly I subsided, became calmer, I tilted my head up to him, eyes half closed. “Do you still love me?” I whispered. He smiled, leaned down to brush his lips softly against mine, kissed a tear from my cheek and said “Yes my love, now and for always.”

God knows what had happened but I felt as light as a feather despite my pain. I was physically and emotionally exhausted. Daz seemed to sense this and half carried me to the bed where he laid down with me in his arms. I drifted off to sleep in spite of my burning buns. When I awoke half an hour later I was still in his arms, my bottom was sore but now just a constant reminder of my ordeal. I cannot explain the feelings I had, but we were as close at that moment as we have ever been. Maybe it was because he had revealed everything to me his dark side not just the good. Maybe I shouldn’t try to analyse it?

I stretched lazily, feeling the soreness tighten in my cheeks, he smiled down at me with total love shining out of his eyes. “Daz?” I said. “Yes my love?” he replied.

I giggled softly, “Will you fetch me an orange juice please, I am parched, then can we make love?” He smiled. “gently,” I hastily added, aware of the soreness. He grinned and went for my juice, and yes he was gentle. He examined my bottom later while he was kissing it and expressed his pride, joy and wonder again.

So that is the story of how I became the willing victim of a spanking pervert. I still love him to bits, even with his sick pleasures. He has spanked me since, but I am never going to be in that position again. Yes I got my designer suit. We have an agreement, I am allowed to gain 4 pounds. If I gain five I get the five swats for the weight and three for breaking my word. It is not going to happen. Last time I gained two Daz took me straight to the pool, shared fruit and fish meals with me for four days and it came straight off. I am actually a pound or two under my target weight, so have a six pound cushion. I have never been so healthy and fit. So OK maybe he helped but he isn’t going to get the chance to help me in that particular way again!

A strap or tawse now hangs next to the cane and the paddle. When we talk about his perversion he still says he would love to draw on my bottom with his cane. No chance. He never pushes it, but when asked he freely admits he would love to. It’s ok though, I can live with his sickness, and indeed he is the most wonderful hubbie in every other way. Oh I have bent over the chair since, I let him spank me once with his hand in that position then wished him “Happy Birthday”

That’s it, that’s my story. The End Copyright © Sue