Pleasure in the pain… #NSFW, 18+

Between the holidays, visiting family, birthdays, puppies, and selling a home, Daddy and I have had very little time for D/s.  Don’t get me wrong, the dynamic is always there, but the focus on it has been much less intense than previous months.  And, I was so busy, I didn’t even realize how much I was missing the intensity of his dominance. Until, Daddy told me calmly in his stern Daddy voice, that he felt I needed a spanking when we returned home… both as a release, and as a reminder of who I belong to.

My heart soared, and my tummy filled with butterflies upon hearing his words.  It had been almost a week since my maintenance spanking and I remembered how painful that had been.  I’m not sure if others experience this, but I’ve found that the less I am spanked, the more sensitive my bottom (and my emotions) become.

When we got home, Daddy helped me out of the truck and wrapped me in a tight hug.  He then took my hand, led me inside, and straight to our bedroom.  Without discussion, he unzipped my pants and lowered them to my knees.  I wasn’t wearing panties and the air felt cool between my legs, but my face flushed in embarrassment at being handled in this way.

“Lay on the bed, face down,” Daddy said, sternly.

“Yes, Sir,” I whispered, obeying immediately.

As I lay there, I thought of what was to come.  Why does this work for us?  Why do we both need this so much?  And…it’s going to hurt.

When Daddy returned, he held the short, thick strap, and the carpet beater… a tried and true recipe for a hot, stinging bottom and buckets of tears.

I immediately began begging, as I sometimes do when I see Daddy’s choice in implements.

“No, please, Daddy,” I said softly, knowing that nothing would deter him from the sound spanking he intended.

“I love you, nora, that is why I do this.  You need this,” he said, as he placed one hand upon my back, under my shirt, and the other on my naked backside.

I whispered back, “I know.  I love you too.”

And with that, Daddy began to spank my bottom with his hand.  These were not gentle, warm-up spanks as he sometimes starts with.  These were hard, crisp spanks designed to have me crying in record time.  This lasted for about one fire-hot minute before he stopped and picked up the strap.

This particular strap we bought from a sex shop in Las Vegas.  It is about 8 inches in length and is composed of two thick leather straps which form a point at the tips.  It is a small implement, but it packs one heck of a wallop.

I was begging for it to be over from the first lick.  The pain was incredibly intense as Daddy applied the strap liberally to my bottom and naked thighs.  He made a comment about how red I was becoming which I barely heard through the fog of pain.  The strapping seemed to go on forever, but in reality, was probably only a few minutes.

When Daddy set the strap down beside the bed, I looked up at him through a blur of tears.

“Please, Daddy…I’ve had enough, “I sobbed, as he rubbed my swollen rear.

“I decide when you have had enough, nora, and we are not nearly finished,” he told me, picking up the carpet beater. “You need this, honey.”

My spanking resumed, this time with the wicked carpet beater.  The strap had left me swollen and in tears, but the carpet beater produced an unbearable sting to which my body responded by kicking my legs and trying to cover my bottom with my hands.

Daddy gave me a warning to hold still and move my hands.  “Do I need to restrain you? “he asked.  I cried out “no”, knowing that this would only lead to a much longer and harder spanking than I already must endure and I moved my hands back above my head, gripping the pillow for support.

Daddy resumed my spanking and he didn’t stop until my tears were exhausted, and my body was still.  And then, he made me count out ten more. The pain had completely robbed me of energy and coherent-ness.  I lay there, pants at my knees, tears soaking my face, and my swollen and well-spanked bottom displayed before him.

Always gentle after a spanking, Daddy rubbed my back and kissed the back of my head.  As the pain began to somewhat subside, I thanked him for my spanking, as I am required to do.  Thoughts began to swirl through my mind…why do I allow him to do that to me?  I am a strong, confident, professional woman…why do I subject myself to my husband’s discipline?

I vocalized these thoughts to my husband, through my tears.

“Daddy, why do we need this so much?” I asked him, emotionally spent and lying face down on the bed still.

“We just do, baby girl,” he answered, lightly patting my bottom.

While it is difficult to explain, there is pleasure in the pain.  And, I thrive on this pain.

 

Happy writing, my friends…and thank you for stopping by! 🙂

Love, nora