It’s these words randomly flashing into my mind that continue to bring me back to this past Sunday afternoon and the incredible feelings. The four words continually rekindling the thoughts of the intense pleasure and excitement. These four words…the words of my spanking.
It was the rhythm…the steady repetition of each of his strokes building in hypnotic series.
It was the percussion…the impact from each quick strike of his hand as it steadily and smoothly came down and across the curve of my uncovered bottom.
It was the sound…the noise from the clap of his strokes connecting alternately with each of my cheeks…breaking the still and silence…resounding through the open upstairs loft.
Above all, it was the sensations…his hand’s skin meeting my bareness…the warmth spreading across my bottom…the sting following each of his strokes…the subtle changes in my breathing as his strokes built each level of my pleasure upon the previous…and the soft rubs and fingertip touches allowing the ongoing buildup.
Cumulatively, it was all my mind could focus on…everything I had wanted to feel…to think about. My Sunday afternoon spanking had been total, unadulterated, abandoned pleasure!
Several minutes had passed that afternoon since I had made the final decision to position myself across his lap. I could have easily decided not to at anytime. We had ascended the steps to the loft of the townhouse, his plush red leather couch looking so inviting. The leather of the couch feeling so cool and soft to the skin of my face and legs as I now lay across it.
We had agreed to meet earlier that week…a public place…a glass or two of wine after work…me needing to know if my now spanker was the kind of guy I’d let do this. He was clean cut, intelligent, gentlemanly, pleasantly attractive…and as I had come to find out, shared a love for exploring and playing within this sensual pleasure. What I wanted was not punishment but a sensual, erotic spanking. My instincts told me it would be okay.
It was 4 o’clock, the appointed time, when I had arrived at his upscale townhouse. There was no rush or sense of urgency. We both knew what we were planning to enjoy…what I would be receiving…the gift that he would be giving. There was both a friendly anticipation mixed with some sweet sexual tension in the air. We spent some time talking, catching up on what we’d been doing in the past week since we’d met. It had been a hectic one and it was time to relax and enjoy.
It was a good forty five minutes or more after I arrived that I found myself in the upper reaches of his condo. After inviting me upstairs he had moved across the loft/den and eased himself down into the middle of the couch. I was standing across from him…about six feet away…leaning against the entertainment console… continuing to chat…but now feeling these little butterflies of anticipation in my stomach…knowing this was the place it would happen and the time was drawing near.
He was looking up at me from his seated position but his eyes now diverted from mine as he followed my figure…slowly…down from my face…to my chest…then hips and legs…to my black high heels…obviously admiring me. “Please get comfortable…take off your shoes…come join me” he said and I moved forward…kicking off my shoes in the process…immediately losing a couple of inches in height as I stopped to stand directly in front of him. He told me how great I looked and how pleased he was that I had come and then requested that I turn around so he could see all of me.
I took a few moments to absorb the fact that this was the beginning. I then presented myself to him, standing legs apart…my hands on my hips…my back erect…my shoulders straight. Turning slowly, I consciously took a few extra seconds with my back to him, continuing the slow turn and then returning to face him again. The look of enjoyment and approval was visible on his face. His left hand reached out for mine and I extended my left hand to meet his while simultaneously he reached out with his other hand to gently grasp my left hip as he brought me closer to him…lingering with his hand on my side for several seconds…and then…bringing me down to him…gracefully…positioning me across his lap.
“You’re very sweet and very beautiful and very deserving of that fun little test drive we talked about over our wine…let’s see if we can negotiate the final package to include all the options!” he said harkening back to the fun conversation of our first meeting…and that was it! Talking time was now over…spanking time was obviously here!
I was ready, willing, and laying over his knee…still completely clothed…stretched across his lap and the beautiful couch…truly prepared to accept and enjoy the beginnings of what I would come to find were these wonderful sensations…beyond anything I had possibly imagined! As he adjusted me deeper into his lap I knew that the sensual spanking that I had wanted for a good while was now underway!
As an attractive, sane and assertive woman I had no problem with relationships with the opposite sex. Men have always shown me proper respect. I certainly would never allow myself to be humiliated or abused by anyone, but letting myself experience this aspect of my sensual self was something that I’d been thinking about and wanting for a while.
I must admit how surprisingly comfortable it all felt as I allowed myself the pleasure of lying across my spanker’s knee. The window blind of the townhouse’s second floor was closed, blocking out the rest of the world…but the natural light from the skylight created a serene semi-lit room…the quiet only being intermittently interrupted now by the steady rhythmic percussive sound of his right hand across me.
As it had all begun, I was actually more relaxed than I had expected I would be. The initial sensation I was enjoying was one of warmth…building, slow, steady warmth! It must have been four or five minutes since I had so properly presented myself, positioned myself and started to receive those first soft slow strokes of my spanker’s warmup. It wasn’t painful, initially the strokes were almost TOO soft…but the anticipation of more intensity as we progressed, was almost more excitement than my mind was prepared to process.
I had put myself together so nicely for the experience, but now that was far from being an issue. He had made only one request when we originally met…that if we went through with my spanking that I wear a skirt and buttoned blouse. Now, as those initial sweet strikes ended, he directed me to remove my blouse. Following his direction, I leaned up and out…turning slightly towards him…while still across his lap. He reached to gently assist me…unbuttoning the top two buttons of the silky blouse, while, with his spanking hand, continuing to lightly massage my cheeks…softly tracing his fingertips across my arched back and behind. The cool air felt good on my back as little goose bumps formed. My whole body was extremely sensitive. Completing the task of removing my blouse, I now found myself semi-clothed in my matching bra and panties along with my skirt. That, however, was not to last much longer, as within those next three minutes or so…as he continued to spank me…I could feel my tight black skirt being gradually slid up my thighs and above my hips…he eventually bunching the soft fabric…gathering it around my waist where he had completed hiking it… fully uncovering the object of his desire and my center of pleasure.
He held me firmly in place, his left hand grasping my hip with an easy touch, his left arm parallel across my spine, he had chosen to spend those first few minutes of our session spanking me OVER my skirt…moderately but steadily…then…choosing to deliver a volley of light strokes across my rear end while my panties remained in place following my ceremonious skirt raising. It was only when he hooked the back waistband of my black lace panties with his thumb and forefinger…easing them over my round behind and slipping them down to a point somewhere between my mid-thigh and knees that a furious rush of excitement charged through me in anticipation of what would follow.
The limits we had discussed in advance were more than being followed. I had a safeword but certainly there was no need to consider using it. Now as I lay over his knee, my bare bottom completely exposed and vulnerable to him, my spanker leaned over and softly whispered into my ear that I should relax…remain still…quiet…as he completed the critical task of fully warming me and my excited rear end.
I knew that this near teasing was finally going to end soon and that the skin to skin strokes of his hand to my bare behind that I was craving were about to begin any moment. Again he adjusted me slightly in his lap…almost as if he was purposely taking this final pause…a final tease…and then…his hand started again!
For ten minutes he played on my now warm cheeks, intermittently administering a minute or so of medium to firm smacks across my backside…interspersed with massaging and rubbing…of my ass… my legs…even my shoulders, back and hair. His pace remained steady…consistent, but I could feel him carefully…precisely…growing the intensity of each series of strokes as he worked to build up my threshold of tolerance. Each grouping of spanks coming down across my hind quarters like little thunderclaps…each series taking me to a slightly higher plateau of more intense physical sensation. Little electrical charges from my nerve endings shooting through me.
It was obvious that this was the prelude to the heart of what I was now certain was going to be my ultimate spanking. My occasional sigh or moan was met with a soft but firm “Shhhhh!” from my spanker. We were both obviously relishing the sound of that percussive rhythm that his right hand was continuing to establish on my naked backside.
As his soft massaging resumed, I imagined the light shade of pink color that my cheeks had to be taking on. He whispered in my ear again and I sensed, with great anticipation, that my warmup was coming to an end. It had NOT been painful…a slight, actually pleasant sting accompanied by a warm glowy feeling emanating from my rear but circulating throughout my body. I figured he had only given me about half as much as I could take, but I obviously wasn’t sure. While my anticipation reached new heights, I wondered a bit anxiously, if I would handle the upcoming strokes that I ultimately envisioned being at least twice as hard as what he had administered to this point?
I was facing this delicious dilemna…the magnificent anticipation of those strokes…mixed with the trepidation of receiving them! As a result, I was in a wonderfully pleasant state of arousal and certainly of the mind of continuing…as if I had a choice! I was clearly under the control of my spanking and spanker…we both understood what was transpiring and basked in the scene and the sensations!
As he spoke to me again, he was telling me how shapely and lovely my bottom was but also how much prettier it would soon appear as a result of his ministrations…the current lightly pink color soon to be turning to a deeper pink and then eventually to a progression of deepening shades of red. As he rubbed the back of my legs he commented on their firmness and how athletic they were. He was again explaining the importance of my remaining silent during my spanking in order to focus on the sounds…the rhythm…the feelings that his hand would continue to create, but then gave me one opportunity to speak before resuming. To the best of my recollection, I uttered that if the rest of what he intended for me was as good as what he had already done he would have one rather excited lady on his hands…and at the receiving end of his hand! My excitement didn’t diminish as he began removing my last vestige of clothing…he delicately unhooking the clasp of my bra…slipping the straps off my shoulders and now leaving me completely nude as he placed my bra within my view…just in front of my head on the arm of the couch….He half smiled… nodding an acknowledgement…me continuing to anticipate just when the heart of this session would finally begin and just how intense it might feel. I would not have to wait long!
Virtually without warning, the first series of twenty or so strokes came down and through…each at about the same reasonably comfortable intensity as where we had left off in the warm up…but the tempo…the tempo was now increasing…to about one per second. My spanker dividing my cheeks into a quadrant of pleasure…spreading the strokes in a pattern across each quarter of my excited rear. I remember my audible gasp when he doubled the pace of his strokes to two per second and slightly notched up the intensity for what seemed like about ten seconds. My level of excitement dramatically rising, I could actually feel the change in my breathing, my breaths beginning to become shorter, shallower and quicker from the excitement of his delivery of these new, pleasantly more firm strokes. Moving without interruption he continued on with a third series of strokes at exactly the same steady, quick two per second pace, but again with a further increasing firmness, before finally, knowingly, backing off to a softer kinder stroke and again to the rhythm of a spank a second for that minute’s last twenty seconds.
He had packed a phenomenal amount of sensation into that one minute causing the questions to race through my mind. Was this going to be the progression? How high was up? How much of this great stuff could I possibly stand? I could only hope for more of the same as my mind and heart raced! That first incredible minute concluding with a followup minute of the same soft massage, finger tip tracing, back and leg rubbing that I had experienced during the warmup. He was slowly and deliberately taking the time to allow me to enjoy the maximum amount of physical pleasure I could stand.
As best as I could think, my mind reached back to our meeting and our discussion of limits the first time we met. I knew we were both anticipating a spanking session of about an hour. Of course, I also knew that the hour would not be composed strictly of smacks, spanks and swats…but his calculated technique…the stinging blows…followed by the soft, slow rubbing and massaging…was starting to drive my mind into a frenzy. I found myself conflicted in not being able to discern which intense sensations I was savoring more…the actual stinging of the spanks or the soft rubbing touches of those recovery intermissions.
The minute massage ending…and now a second minute of the same progression of rhythmic strokes being delivered…deliberate and reasonably firm hits from his hand dancing across my ass. It was this alternating pattern across my behind…like an X…the first stroke starting high left…the second lower right…his hand striking slightly higher and right for the third lash before coming back down across me to the lower left portion of my cheek to complete the cycle. It was as if he was being certain not to expend too much time or force on any one area so that he could push me further. My mind absently moving in time with his hand…anticipating his rhythm…the pace intoxicatingly hypnotic. The intensity, though, continuing to be turned up!
The percussive sound of the medium to firm swats was continuing to echo from the couch through the loft. This WAS going to be the progression…the steady rhythmic pace with the building intensity of the smacks…and it WAS going to carry on for, what I recall, being a series of ten one minute spankings, each accompanied by equal rest/recovery periods…but all designed for one purpose only…to continually build me up to the next levels of greater pleasure and physical sensations.
WOW…about halfway through the session, my body and mind were simply floating in a state of near ecstasy from the tactile sensations my spanker was creating. A quick and rare whispered encouragement of how well I was doing was shortly followed by a totally unexpected burst of 10 or so seconds of sustained intensely short/quick spanks but at a much reduced firmness…again only serving to take me further into this dreamy zone of excruciating erotic pleasure.
The hot pink color of my bottom was, I imagined, now turning some shade of red. The warmth emanating from my bottom burning hotter!
He continued the second half of the main portion of the session…each time slightly increasing the intensity, taking me higher and then backing off just slightly. Any clench, any squirm, any small sigh was met with a quiet “No” from my spanker and then a slight adjustment in rhythm to prevent my total anticipation…yet, he knew just how important the rhythm and the sound were! Every couple of minutes he would change the pattern of the strikes…reversing the crossover direction…but never the basic rhythm…and always upping the intensity…wanting me to reach out to…and taking me up to…my maximum threshold.
My body and mind were relinquishing control and I was loving it! The percussive rhythm and the sound of his hand administering my spanking was almost all that my conscious mind could conjure! If there was any one conscious thought it was my new understanding that this spanking I was receiving was a true art form…a living work of art between two consenting adults…my spanker edging me further…higher…on this, as yet, unbroken chain of amazing pleasure.
As we had sat in the cafe earlier in the week, lingering over a second glass of wine, me already knowing this day was going to happen, our conversation had turned to the topic of how truly intense the pleasure and excitement of a spanking could be for the receiver. I had read enough to know that it was entirely possible for one to orgasm during a spanking but I certainly wasn’t going to be setting any goals or holding out any expectations. Certainly, that wouldn’t be a bad thing! I jokingly asked him, as if I were shopping for a car, if an orgasm were included in the spanking or if it was an optional accessory. His equally amusing response was that he was certain that a good negotiator would be able to have it packaged into an all inclusive deal. We both smiled and laughed as we finished our wine and I completed that part of our conversation by saying I would somehow find the way to handle all the pleasure. I had underestimated just how pleasantly difficult it would be.
As my spanking continued, he was intuitively reading my body’s reactions and for each reaction there was an accompanying reaction. When I shifted slightly, arching deeper into his lap…he paused ever so slightly…dropping pace for a brief few seconds and then resuming the original rhythm…I shuddered slightly, my head twisting as a new round began…he simply maintained the perfectly even pace. A couple of low spontaneous gutteral moans released from my throat and he turned his hand on me slightly harder still. I knew my bottom now had to be turning some beautiful shade of bright red as my mind continued its drift along with the incredible contrasting sensations of the strokes of the spanking followed by the soft touches and massaging.
Now late in this most intense portion of my spanking, the repetitive, now solid strokes of his hand were having a profound effect. It was in these last couple of minutes that I was feeling the very familiar stirrings…starting in my stomach and just below my navel…a warm, slow building throb. I recognized it immediately and he, too, almost certainly sensed what was happening as I squirmed in his lap…but my spanker never broke from routine. The heat in my behind now being matched by a powerful flush of sexual tension coursing through my body…about to overpower me. It was obvious, but nevertheless incredible to me, that I was on the brink of coming! His two per second swats reducing to one…the back and forth friction of my slight but continual movement across his knee coupled with the artful work of his right hand was about to set me off. My breathing becoming shorter…quicker…labored.
Within moments the wave of complete sexual release was hitting…crashing over and through me. The intensity of the orgasm being heightened by his continuing strokes…him fully knowing…but in no way reacting to my ultimate release…making the experience that much more mind blowing…me working through the almost too intense sensations…grinding myself into his knee…uncontrollably releasing a muffled cry as my face pressed into the leather of the couch as I tried to regain control of my breathing. The spanks ending and again the rubbing and touching, his spanking hand now fully massaging my cheeks, upper thighs and then my back and shoulders…assisting me through the intense pleasure…but, matter of factly, almost unintentionally, and seemingly, only in the context of the spanking session’s routine. His intentional neglect only serving to heighten the fantastic feeling.
After nearly a half hour…he had taken me up…and then higher still again…and then magnificently over the top. Now, he would be bringing me back down to earth. A pause, as his right hand, open and resting on my left cheek, seemed to be the subtle signal we would be slowing. Those incredible sensations would be ending?…Such disappointment! But as I would come to find out…not really. The sensations would simply be changing…no less intense…just a bit different…as it was time for my spanker to undertake a new sustained rhythm…cooling me down, while continuing to mix in the proper doses of rubbing, massage and touching.
Surprisingly, ten more of the firmest strokes of the session soon were now again landing on my behind at one per second…this just a minute or two after the shattering peak…just as I was finally calming. I shuddered…feeling I couldn’t handle much more, but, almost reassuringly, the blows were soon followed with ten less intense swats at two per second…then, another notch down in intensity for ten strokes my spanker was now administering three seconds apart. The sensations were still fabulous…mind stirring… continuing…and certainly still the incredible heat and sting in my bottom, but the strokes now coming a minute at a time, not beyond what I could take, but just as much as he and I both knew I could handle. He was slowly bringing me down…my breathing beginning to normalize. I could envision my bottom being a magnificent crimson red.
The minutes were now passing…three…five…seven…ten…he delivering medium and light, at times almost playful swats, at a steady pleasure filled pace…cooling me down…stroking and now mingling in feathery touches…continuing to a lighter…and then the lightest intensity of patting…the level at which this almost unbelievably pleasurable adventure had begun. It was as if he was bringing me in for a soft landing…my breathing slowing…my bottom so incredibly, deliciously warm, my entire body feeling like one large tingling nerve…my fun little ride winding down.
My sensual spanking appearing to be nearly over, but he continuing to hold me in place firmly…rubbing, touching, whispering about what I needed and what I certainly desired and offering praise on just how well I accepted the spanking and how much he could tell I enjoyed it. He quietly warmed fragrant hand lotion in his hands and now was slowly applying it to my lovely red glowing rear…slowly and softly massaging it into my still overheated bottom. Lifting me off his lap he held me closely in a comforting hug as I balanced myself…straddling him…my knees on each side of him on the couch…careful to avoid sitting immediately on my sensitive rear. I held him tightly nuzzling his neck and softly telling him how wonderful my spanking was.
I knew then that as the next few days progressed that my mind would be drifting…that the afterglow feeling of sensations emanating from my bottom would be taking me back to that incredible Sunday afternoon, to the pleasure provided by my spanker. The reminders might come as I sat in my office, ate lunch, went out to dinner, or as I relaxed on my own couch watching television.
The words of my spanking…the words that bring back the incredible feelings…the words that make me not want to wait very long for my next one!