When you asked me to do this, I consented to help you accomplish your goals. Before one shred of clothing was tossed, days of conversation were had. What are your limits, what are your boundaries, this was to be discipline only. What is your safe word? Then we begin.
You say “I am so sorry.”
Make no mistake. I am an older man of experience, style and confidence. When you came to me and told me you made a mistake, I was disappointed. And I let you know it, feel it.
I let you look at the floor in discomfort and shame. I paced around you, silent, just looking at you with a look of discontent on my face.
“Go stand in the corner and think about what you did.” I say. Am I upset? No. She did not fail me. I never yell. Control is the agreement. I know what she likes, what she can take and what her hard limits are. She is in complete control of the situation. All I need to hear is one word from her lips and scene is over.
She stands and thinks for ten minutes. When I return, I sit on the bed and ask her to come to me. I bring her close. As I gaze into her eyes, she looks away and says, “Are you going to spank me for this?”
I respond, “ Did you break the rules?” She again looks disturbed as she nodded her head. “Do you deserve this?” I ask.
She again looked at me as she nodded silently.
I take her by the hand and slowly, direct her to stand before me. I look up into her face as I unbutton her jeans and quickly take them to her ankles. I purposefully redirected her to my right and exerted pressure on her back asking her body to bend over my lap. She extended her hands and placed them on the floor.
She bit her own lip and looked back at me with a mixture of anticipation, excitement and apprehension. Oh, that look. A look I have seen a hundred times before but every time I see it, is like the first time.
I inhaled deeply, taking in her mixture of perfume and her musk which told me just how moist she must be.
“ Why are we here?” I ask. “I broke the rules.” She says. She remained silent as she awaited her fate. She both hated and loved this anticipatory time between communication and execution.
I reached back and with two hands and slowly took down her panties for her. As her panties hovered at her knees, I wasted no time and began assailing her back side with a hand spanking. Slow at first and not hard. After a few minutes, I picked up the pace and made each swat progressively harder, just like she wants it. Each swat bring her closer and closer to the place she loves to be, sub space. The place where pleasure is mixed with pain.
Sometimes I recount the misjudgement if I feel she wants the feeling of reliving failing herself. It’s not my rule. It is her rule. The rule she has made for herself and asked me to enforce for her. She has asked me to set up the consequence to reinforce the incorrectness of the behavior.
She has the power. The power to submit or the power to stop everything immediately with one word, “Red”. I have never heard it. I know her limits. I know if what I have done lives up to the expectation and the request of me.
When we are through, the aftercare begins. The repair of the emotional and the physical. I hold her in my arms for a long time. Sometimes she breathes deeply and other times, she finishes with deep, heaving sobs. She always wraps her arms around me and burries her face in my shoulder. This is the kind of emotional release she craves.
She forgives herself as I forgive her. It is done. It is forgiven and forgotten. Until next time…