My first spanking

Have you ever done or said something so bad or stupid that you instantly regretted it but it’s already too late to take it back?  I have… lots of times.

I’d been with David a few months when it happened.  I can’t even remember what it was I said during an argument but it made him really angry.  Not the screaming, shouting and hitting angry, more the sort that you can see simmering just below the surface.  Whatever I said, I remember instantly wishing I hadn’t and trying to take it back.  I’d gone too far though.  He told me to be quiet and I obeyed – I wanted to tell him I was sorry but I knew silence was the better option right now.

I remember the look on this face and the anger in his voice as he said, “I should put you over my knee for that.”  He spoke through gritted teeth, barely able to contain his rage.  Instead though he left the room.  I could hear him seething in the kitchen, the occasional bang and crash then silence.  He came back in sipping from a pint of water.

“You need to learn some manners, Emily.”  I don’t remember his exact words but he used my full name instead of calling me Emmy like normal.
“Okay,” I agreed quietly.

David picked up my school bag, sat down and fished around inside it til he found my hairbrush.  “I’m going to spank you,” I remember those words clearly – they were flat, matter of fact, the sort of words that allow no argument.  He told me to take off my knickers and hand them to him.  David was sat a few feet from where I stood, he looked serious and powerful – right now he wasn’t the man who made love to me most days, he was someone else, whoever that someone was he was in charge and I knew it.

My black plaid school skirt came just over half way down my thigh, I slipped my hands under it and pulled my white cotton knickers down my thighs, over my knee high black socks and off.  I handed them to him and watched while he carefully folded and placed my knickers on the arm of his chair.

“You’re going to lay across my knee while I spank you, Emily.”  David’s voice was calm but I could sense his anger was still there.  I asked if it would hurt – seems silly now but I was in a limbo not sure what I should say or do and that was the only thing that popped into my mind.  “Yes,” was his one-word answer.

His lap suddenly looked a long way down and I couldn’t decide how best to get on it. Looking back and being honest with myself, I didn’t want to get over his lap because it was humiliating to put myself in a position I’d only ever thought was adopted by naughty children – I didn’t feel like a child any more, I was a grown up now who had sex with men in their 30s, I’d even fucked a black guy, not that David knew it then.  Feeling completely powerless and humiliated I got into position, David moved me forward a little so my head was down and my bum up in the air.  I felt him messing with my skirt, tucking the hem into the waistband.  As he did, David explained the rules – how I must keep still and take it.  If I tried to get up then it would start again.  If I tried to cover myself it would start again.  If he had to start again then next time I would be restrained so I couldn’t interfere.

His hand caressed my buttock, it felt quite nice and I almost forgot that I was in this position to be punished.  Then his hand left my bum and a fraction of a second later hit me hard.  To my surprise I felt it but I wouldn’t say it hurt.  More blows rained down and the feeling turned to stinging.  Still more blows turned the stinging to what felt like pain at the time.  After a few minutes of that he stopped and said, “there we go…” at that point my heart skipped a beat – it was over and it really hadn’t been bad.  “Now you’re warmed up it’s time for the spanking.”  What the fuck is he talking about, I wondered – you just spanked me.  I didn’t say anything though, I didn’t have time.

I felt something cold, hard and flat on my stinging bum.  Oh my God, the hairbrush I just had time to think before the thick wooden back of my own hairbrush impacted on my bum. That one hurt.  It hurt more than every other blow he’d inflicted on me with his hands put together.  The next blow hit in exactly the same place intensifying the pain.  Another and another.  My left hand was trapped uselessly in front of my face, prevented from reaching my bum by his body but right hand was on my thigh.  I struggled, fighting the urge to put my hand between my bum and the hairbrush knowing that if I did the whole thing would start again.

“There that’s 10,” he said after a few more blows and turned my bum from a comfortable seat to a mass of angry pain.  Tears were flowing freely down my face.  I remembered the last rule he’d told me, “thank you,” I said.  I was anything but grateful for the pain I was suffering but I didn’t want to be punished again so I swallowed my pride and thanked him for causing me so much pain.

David was calm now, his anger taken on out my previously quite nice bum (if I do say so myself).  He cuddled me till the tears stopped, wiping them away for me.  At first I was crying because it hurt so much, but as he cuddled me I realised it wasn’t the pain that was so bad it was the humiliation of being made to submit myself to him.  The moment I accepted that he had the right to spank me, I accepted that he had the right to total control over my body.  When I took off my knickers, when I laid myself over his knee, when I resisted the urge to put my hand between him and my hurting bum and when I thanked him for punishing me I was demonstrating his complete authority over me.  As I thought about it all, I realised that I was turned on then I did something that he loved, I begged him for sex and he obliged right there on the carpet in his living room.  The sex added some minor carpet burns to my injuries but it didn’t matter.

I’d been punished and I was his good girl again.

This incident was a turning point for me.  I’d been an ardent feminist before I met David but the more I wanted to please him the less I cared about being his equal.  It didn’t happen immediately, but that spanking led me to accept that I am happiest when I am under the control of a man.  I’m still a feminist – I still think men and women are equal but now I realise that can mean that if I want to choose to submit to a man then that’s fine, so long as it’s my choice.  If a man chose to submit to a woman that’d be fine too.