A Spanking Quartet

Spankings are like buses. You wait for ages and there isn't even one on the horizon, then four come along at once. 

To spare you pain and save you from utter boredom, I have decided to write separate posts about these very different spankings.

Spanking Number 1 - The Spanking that is 'Needed' not 'Wanted'

Dan and I are a true partnership.

Our long marriage is based not only on our love for each other, but mutual respect, sharing of responsibilities, determination to weather the storms that can, and will, arise, and the fact that we both enjoy a good challenge. It is also based on the fact that for as long as I have known Dan, and I am going right back to when he first tapped me on the shoulder for a dance when I was sweet sixteen, he has always had the last word and the final say. 

Very early on in our relationship I realised that he would always listen to my opinion and consider what I had to say, but he has always been the decision maker. I hasten to add that sometimes after listening to me he has changed his mind. But I have always been expected to concur with his wishes, and his decision has always been the final one. 

I know that we are not traditional Dd. It doesn't mean I don't respect those who live those sort of relationships. Heck, it's what brought us to where we are now, and I am good friends with several couples whose marriages are enriched and strengthened beyond belief because they follow a Dd dynamic. But I realised long ago that to force Dan into it would be the very worst sort of control I could wield, and our lives would be completely false, because he did not want it. He does not wish to have lots of rules or to feel constrained to punish me on a regular basis, and I would wholeheartedly resent such a thing. 

So at best I can only describe what we have as a watered down version, or in our case, a hybrid that continues to grow and develop at unexpected times and in unexpected ways, and I would also hazard a guess that there are many other couples who could perhaps identify with us. It's just that every couple is different, and some are more inclined towards Dd than others.

However... and this is where TTWD gets so very complicated:

If something happens to the Captain of the Ship, she would go off course and well and truly flounder if there was no First Mate to take over the steering.

For the last several weeks I have steered our ship as best I could.

I can assure you I have encountered many a squally sea, and at times the wheel became almost too difficult to handle. But yet again we managed to sail into calmer waters, and the day eventually arrived when the Captain took back his vessel.

Er - no.  More like this:

So this is the difficult bit. Like the ladies in the Great War who manned the munitions factories, became nurses on the Front Line, and took over all the jobs their men had previously been in charge of doing, I have had to hand back the responsibilities of steering to Dan. 

Not surprisingly it has not been easy. Although I live my life, taking for granted things that some of you may regard as highly submissive actions, I do not intentionally have a submissive bone in my body. I have a smart mouth, an acerbic wit, and I most definitely do not suffer fools gladly.

Enter Dan.

My attitude has, and still continues, to get me into more hot water than the average Jacuzzi holds on a daily basis. My snottiness is not intentional - my mouth just runs away with me from time to time.

These are the times when I have learned to heed a raised eyebrow, a sotte voce whisper accompanied by a look and even a quick, sharp swat to the lower, rear portion of my anatomy. 

Of course, I could ignore all these things, but it would not make for either peace or harmony, and I happily admit that since I first hid my face in Dan's armpit and asked if he would spank me when I misbehaved, I have done my level best to avoid confrontation and heed the warnings. After all, why ask for a thing if you are not going to try to make it work? 

Dan's biggest problem is that he still refuses (unless my Bitch/Troll grabs him by the balls) to punish me on a regular basis. The word does not exist for us, and my spankings for discipline have, thankfully, been far and few between. It doesn't, however, mean that they have never happened, or will never happen in the future, but a warning is usually sufficient to deter me. 

Also, our weekly spank for whatever reason sessions have a tendency to imprint sufficient pain on my mind/butt to ensure I stay several feet this side of the line.

So how does the First Mate hand over that Ship?

It took me a great deal of thought before I came up with the answer. I realised the best way would be for me to ask for a spanking.

I've managed to do this several times in the past and it has been very easy. But this time it was the opposite of easy. I had gotten used to steering and was quite enjoying it. I truly wasn't sure that I wanted to return to Spankyland, (Well, it did go through my mind for around ten minutes.) and I still have bruises on my right hip and thigh from my fall, so any form of spanking sends me climbing up to the ceiling.

So what to do?

We lay in bed with Dan stroking a finger up and down my spine and making me jerk so hard I thought I would orgasm on the spot, and I just came out with the fact that he owed me a spanking of the need not want variety. (I could explain this with a whole list of actions including my increasingly frequent use of the F word which shocks and horrifies Dan, and also my frequent criticism of what he says, what he wears, what he does - need I go on?!) But need and want still remain two vastly different things.

"Go get an implement" he said. He didn't even hesitate.  

I got up and rustled around in my sweater drawer.

Then I stood with something clasped behind my back and lingered on the side of the bed.

"What are you messing around at? You just told me you needed to be spanked and now you are fiddling around as if we have all day." (Dan looked at his watch - yes, he wears it in bed because the clock is on my side.) 

"I don't want to lie over you and hurt you. I think I'd better lay over the side of the bed this time."

I rooted around putting a quilt over the side of the bed to protect my shins from the hard wooden edges.

Then I handed him a belt. (Aptly named I thought.)

"What the f---!  I'm not using that!"

"I want you to. One, because I need it. Two, because I am so used to the leather paddle that it gives me pleasure. Three, because all the advice I have been given is that leather is flexible and leaves a sting but won't make my bruising worse. Four, I am very nervous of it. Five, you hate using it. Shall I go on?"

Dan got up very reluctantly and took it from me muttering all the time. I lay over the bed. His one attempt at humour "Which end of it do I use? The buckle?"  went down like a lead balloon.

I waited in position holding my breath.

Then it sliced down over my tender pristine smooth and white globes.

I started to count in my head having heard that if you count it helps not only pass the time but also takes your mind off the action.

Ha! It did no such thing! I lost count at around fifteen and resorted to my usual loud yelping after each strike. As my yelping grew louder there didn't seem to be too many more, so probably I only received around twenty or so, Dan grumbling the entire time about belts being unwieldy and not wanting to catch my lady bits. (I didn't want him to catch them either!)

My eyes were wet and I was just relaxing into that state where you are going to have a good cry when he stopped.  I wasn't sure whether to breathe a sign of relief or feel short-changed.

Now this is where Dan does his surprising, unexpected, straight out of the HOH textbook thing.

He hadn't finished.  

He simply decided to move to the other side!

This time the strikes were not so bearable.  I started to kick and I tried to chew at the pillow.  Eventually I bleated "For goodness sake you've swatted me on the same spot five times!!!" So he moved lower and gave my sit spots a good warm up in order that the colour matched the rest of my rear.

I burst into tears. Dan stopped and threw down the belt in relief. Then all hell broke loose.

"Oh shit! What have I done?!"

My crying stopped immediately and my heartbeat went berserk. I shot upright clasping my glowing bottom and looked anxiously at Dan. "What?!!!" I shrieked in horror.

"I've made the most awful mark I've ever seen.  I  hate those things!" He snarled at the belt.

I gasped and turned my bottom to face our full length mirror. 

Yes, it was red and glowing hot enough to fry eggs, and yes, there were a few faint welts but nothing to lose sleep over, and yes, it stung like the dickens, but Dan was pointing to a patch around two inches square that was dark purple. 

All I did was shrug philosophically and climb back on the bed and try to look alluring, and not rub.

He couldn't be comforted. I think the belt has a very short innings in this household. It will be a long time before I can convince him to try it once again.

As for me, I felt fairly good, in fact I couldn't've felt much better.

Stay tuned for Spanking Number 2!