Monday, August 31, 2009

The Proof of the Paddling

When I posted this picture, I was in no condition to elaborate. Now that the glow has passed I thought you might like to know the details about that particular spanking.

The weather wasn't quite as hot as it had been, but even with air conditioning the bedroom was still too warm. We discussed how close we wanted to be to one another, and Ron decided he wanted me bent over the foot of the bed. While I stacked the pillows he opened the implement drawer.

"What would you like?" then he held up the maple paddle. I shivered and nodded. It was one of the ouchier weapons in the arsenal.

"Something else?" Ron looked at me. "Something in leather?" He reached toward the group of leather implements hanging from the bedpost.

"The black one." The long black strap also imparted considerable sting. Black Beauty joined the maple paddle on the bed.

Ron wasn't in a hurry to start spanking. He kissed me gently, then placed his hands on my shoulders and pushed me down onto my knees for a little of what Spanky calls toast buttering. I eagerly complied until Ron pushed me away and helped me to my feet. He picked up the wooden paddle, held it up for me to see, and waved it in the direction of the pillows, gesturing for me to assume the position.

I did so, and felt wood lightly brush my right cheek, then whack! The paddle connected with my bare skin, and a second swat quickly seared my left cheek. The swats continued, alternating left and right, and I squeaked and gasped after each one.

I got a brief moment of relief when Ron paused to stroke my stinging bottom, then returned to paddling. I was getting pretty uncomfortable and was glad of another brief hiatus, until I heard him change implements. It was time for the strap. I was already quite sore, and when the leather connected with my flesh I knew Ron was in one of his no-nonsense moods. During the pauses in between sets, he gently stroked and rubbed my posterior, but made no move to tease my intimate area. He was focused on the job at hand, and was very thorough, making up for the length of time since my last spanking.

At last Ron decided I had had enough.

"Now finish what you started," he ordered, and before I had a chance to rub my sore bottom, I found myself on my knees again, for another round of buttering the toast. After a few minutes of that I was lifted to my feet as my husband had another idea.

"Over the bed. Without the pillows," and with one hand Ron bent me forward while with the other he moved the pillows out of the way. Then he entered me from behind, and we both quickly reached a happy ending, then collapsed on the bed.

After we had recovered somewhat, I kissed Ron and gave him my assessment.

"That was a nine and a half."

"Oh? Why not a ten?"

"Ten was the dressage whip."

"Oh, okay... where did I put that anyway?"

I recalled what had happened the last time he asked me that question, and had to think quickly. Should I tell him, or pretend I didn't know?

"It's behind the door in your study."

From Hermione's Heart


Mina said...


A lovely rendition, thank you.

Spanky has got everyone toast-buttering it seems. :-)

Dressage whip? Is that similar to a crop or something different. I like the sound of it.


Penfold said...

Hi Hermiony

cool experence...

wats this toast buttering?? it sound intresting...

Bear and Pen xx

Anonymous said...

Sounds like a dreamy day!

Fabsterrant said...

Stunning devotion to creative endeavors. You cause me to gasp in mid sentence demanding a retrenchment. With accesible desire anew I engage your words to your courage of commitment to this ting we do.

lots of Hugs, fab

Hermione said...

Mina - A dressage whip is much longer and thinner than a crop. And much stingier.

Penfold - Cool? At the time, it felt quite warm.

Toast-buttering is a euphemism for oral sex.

Kitten - It certainly was.

Fab - Thank you do much for the encouraging words.


ronnie said...

Oh lovely Hermione, thanks for sharing.

Just read your Thoroughly Topped post, excellent read Hermione. I prefer the dressage whip to the crop.