March 29 – Butterflies
I spent the entire morning and afternoon with my tummy doing flip flops. All of these dreadful things went through my head. What if I don’t like the way he spanks? What if he doesn’t like spanking me? What if he was just being nice, and he doesn’t like the size of my butt after all? At least at my age I don’t have to worry about having pimples on my butt anymore.
I wish I’d asked him what kind of underwear he likes. I hope it isn’t white. I hate white underwear, always have. My skin is so fair that I’ve always liked a bit of color next to it. Then there is my hair. Good grief. I suppose I should have warned him that I wear a wig in public. I had some skin cancers cut off of my scalp a while back and started wearing wigs to cover up the bald spots until my hair could grow back in. Well, everyone got used to them and they are so much easier, so I just kept them. My own hair looks ok now, so it is probably time for me to ditch the wig anyway. Better than having it slip or fall off during a spanking . Actually, that would be a hoot. Give him a new experience. “Damn! I spanked her so hard her hair flew across the room.”
He was bit early, survived the hair being shorter and a different color and made up with the animals. The dog jumped on his lap for a cuddle and one of the cats flirted shamelessly. We had dinner, discussed my negotiation points and a couple of his then pretty much sat and stared at each other to see who was going to make the first move. He clearly wanted to do it but didn’t pressure me. It was my decision whether we put it off to another evening or not. So I took a deep breath and asked him if he wanted to see the spanking implements. He did, so we went into the bedroom.
Time to go over his knee
One of his negotiating points was that he expected me to be completely nude throughout. Since he had agreed to my requests, I could see no reason not to agree with his. So things began with the tension of having him undress me. He was clearly happy with what he saw, so that helped me relax a bit. It was time to go over his knees. After all those years of doing without, I was finally getting a spanking.
He started with his hand. I did miss the ritual lowering of the panties, but other than that it was perfect. He gave me a long warm-up which made my butt stingy and red and made me quite aroused. So that hasn’t changed, thank heavens. I reacted normally for me. He spent so long on it that I wondered if that was all he intended, especially when he let me up for a bit of cuddling on his lap. When he stopped, I was beginning to be uncomfortable, but wasn’t in any real distress. Then he remarked that my bottom was nice and warm and asked me if I was ready for my spanking. Yikes.
He arranged me over some pillows – no restraints as we had agreed for the first time – and started in with his hand again. Only much sharper. This told me he can give a painful hand spanking when he wants to. He targeted my sweet spots and it wasn’t long before I was uncomfortable and wriggling around. Then he stopped and rubbed. This was his pattern, one I appreciate. He rubbed between sets.
Three implements were used. He started with a gentle rubber flogger that can either tease or create a serious sting but doesn’t do any damage. He used it forcefully enough to have me gasping after the first few. I don’t know how many strokes he took. He said two dozen. I would have guessed twice that many. Then he switched to a light-weight, five-fingered tawse. I do know how many of those he gave me. 14. I was now in full S&S mode – squeal and squirm – and ready for the session to end, but he wasn’t quite finished. He wanted to baptize the Pete paddle. The Pete paddle is cute and lightweight and looks pretty innocuous. I discovered it packs a heck of a sting, especially on an already sore bottom. He gave me 10 with the Pete paddle. It was enough to have me squirming and very uncomfortable, but not enough to have me crying in serious pain. It was perfect.
Then he sat down beside me, started rubbing my butt again and said he would give me a little break. He was finished, so he was just tormenting me. There were abrasions from the tawse, a rather large area on my right cheek and a smaller one on the left. Truthfully, even though it hurt like the devil at times, I was surprised that there were any marks. I didn’t use to mark easily. He, on the other hand, said he kept expecting me to end it. So I guess I did ok. I was able to hold position, complained a lot but got through it without using the safe word. Granted, he wasn’t using full force. He didn’t give me a free pass, either. My bottom felt like it was getting a real spanking.
The aftercare was lovely, as well. It appears that he likes to cuddle almost as much as he likes to spank. We talked for hours afterward, with me curled up on his lap. The entire experience was extremely satisfying and left me feeling safe and contented. I slept like a baby.
March 30 – Reflections
Today I still have visible marks from the tawse and am tender. But it isn’t anything serious. I am both relieved and amazed that it went so well. It seems so unlikely that I would have found someone as compatible as #1. I think he is feeling the same. I’m trying to process it all. He clearly enjoyed the entire experience as much as I did. It is probable that we will meet often.
We talked a bit about long-range plans. He eventually wants to head in one direction and I in the opposite. Nor is either of us looking for an exclusive, permanent relationship. But I think we are both aware that the likelihood of either of us finding as good a match in the present and near future is slim.
Another thought I had today is how fortunate I am to have had such a satisfying experience last night. If after waiting for 35 years, the spanking was ho hum (or worse, abusive), then it would have been difficult psychologically. Sometimes things do work out when you least expect them.
March 31 – Preconceived notions
35 + years is a long time to go between spankings. There are undoubtedly longer dry spells that, but you must admit that it is a significant length of time for a spanko to do without. During those years of drought, I had memories to put a smile on my face, but they also caused dissatisfaction with my situation. And of course there were fantasies. But that doesn’t remove the longings for the real thing, either.
What happened to me, and I’m sure some of you can relate to this, is that I romanticized the spanking experiences I had as a young woman. All of the fun, playful erotic aspects were remembered. The less enjoyable bits were pushed to the background and not considered. This is risky, because it sets you up for a disappointing real experience when you’re faced with something that doesn’t match that remembered ideal.
Not that my spanking Saturday night was disappointing. To the contrary. I got quite a high from it. But it wasn’t “the same” as my experiences with my original top. For one thing, there was no warm up over clothes followed by the lowering of the panties to signal that the serious part was about to begin. And he didn’t talk to me nearly as much during the spanking as remembered. No scolding at all. No playful banter. No running commentary about how red my backside was going to be before he was finished with me. That sort of thing. He did ask occasionally how I was doing, but that was about it.
Another result of not having been spanked for so long is that my once tough bottom is now quite tender. I woke up this morning with bruises. I have seven or eight perfect small squares made by the tips of the tawse running along the insides of each buttock. I seldom bruised when I was young. So I am wondering if it is just because I haven’t been spanked for so long, or if my skin is thinning with age. Perhaps it is a combination of the two. Whatever the cause, I didn’t have bruises in that idealized memory world.
Then there is the pain. It isn’t that I forgot it hurts, but over the years the pleasure aspect increased in my memory and the pain that is required to get me there diminished. So whereas my spanking was moderate and therefore manageable pain-wise, there were still some “Oh shit!” moments, probably the ones that left the bruises.
I guess what I’m trying to say is don’t create such an idealized image of what you want or what the spanking will be like that you are unable to enjoy the reality when it presents itself.