My Poor Swollen Bottom

So last night, T and I meet up and I am so nervous, I barely know what to do with myself. It's not the same nerves as last time, when I didn't know what to expect... if he was a nice guy, a creep, an asshole. But I KNOW he's nice... the nerves came from the fact that it was supposed to be a punishment spanking.

At first, he had me sit down next to him while he talked to me. I kept playing with my hair, brushing it, stroking it, just messing with it.

"Stop playing with your hair," he said. "Put your hands on your knees."

"I'm sorry. I'm just really nervous."

"I know you are. And you should be."

But my hands keep moving to my hair. It's a tic, and I laugh.

"Do you think this is funny?"

"No, it's not. No."

"No, what?"

That becomes a battle all night... the fact that I don't want to say Sir, and the fact that I genuinely forget to say it. 

The punishment is about my snapping at my mother, losing my temper, being in bad moods and taking it out on people.

T starts with a warm-up over the same black yoga pants I wore last time. It's not too bad, but he reminds me that we haven't even begun anything yet.

When he starts with the bamboo brush, he pulls down my pants and gets me on the sit spot and upper thighs repeatedly. I am squirming so badly that he has to pin me down with his leg, and it hasn't even been a few minutes. The sting is incredible, I guess because it's such a small compacted area. But that is absolutely nothing compared to the bathbrush on the bare.

I never cried during this spanking, but it was almost too much for me to take. My panic, the pain, the immobility... it was just so many sensations at once, but T was unrelenting. At some point I let go of all my pride and BEGGED for him to slow down (which he did not), even saying Sir, and all he did was tell me to put both of my hands behind my back. Then he held onto both wrists and I could not move, and he got in about 50 strokes of the bath brush before I actually stood straight up and begged him to stop.

"This is a punishment, do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"It's not supposed to feel good. We're not testing your limits and your likes and dislikes, okay?"

"Yes, Sir."

"It's going to hurt a lot, and that's the point."

And for the last half of the punishment, I was to count 25 strokes, and loudly.

"One, sir. I will not snap at people again."

That, I think, was the worst part. Just the fact that I had the power to dictate the next swing, but still had to say that... I can't even describe the emotions that went along with it. And T was good... he wouldn't smack right after I said the line. He would sometimes linger for a few seconds, and I would have no idea when the swat would land. But sometimes he would smack immediately. It was terrifying. And all 25 strokes were hard, at maximum swing. (He says they weren't, but I don't believe him.) 

In the middle, I messed up my line a few times... I couldn't even breathe or speak straight. I was whimpering, and I forgot to say Sir, and I forgot the numbers. T said that he would repeat anytime I spoke too quietly or incorrectly. I believe it happened twice. And the second time, I yelled at him, completely losing my temper, and kicked him: "THAT IS SO NOT FAIR. THAT COUNTS!" Which I paid for at the end of the 25 strokes, with another 25 all in a row.

In the end, he had me sit on his leg and say that I would never act that way again, or it would be even worse. I can't even fathom how much worse it could be without my actual death occurring in the process. 

My bottom is totally swollen... with a huge bruise on my right sit spot. It's just the kind of sting I "wanted"... I'm wearing a short dress and my skin sticks to the leather seat I have at work, and I have to constantly readjust because it just hurts too much. But peeling my skin off the leather is a sting in itself. There is no escape from this pain. 

I'm trying to think. We met at 8:45 and left around 9:45. Which means I had been spanked straight for about an hour. Maybe about 10 minutes of rest. Goddamn. 

The First Spanking

So yesterday was the big day. And it was pretty good. This is what my ass looks like, approximately:

Recap of the spanking:

I'm sitting next to him and he knows I have a problem saying "sir."

"Are you ready for this now?"
"Yeah," I say.
"What did you say?"
"I said, I'm ready."
"I told you how you are to respond to me, didn't I?"
"Yeah."

And then somehow I'm over his legs. And I'm nervous. I try to control his every move.
"Wait."
"Remember this is my first spanking ever."
"Slow down!"
"Don't do that!"
"That hurts!"
"Take a break!"
"Is that your hand or the hairbrush??"
"Take a FUCKING BREAK!"

He starts off slow, but with firm swats over think yoga pants. He makes me say, "yes, sir," but I'm still not comfortable about it. It's only been a few minutes and I'm already kicking and squirming.
Eventually he does take a break and lets me up.

"How was that? Was that too hard?" he asks me.
We have been laughing and joking since the moment we first met, and I say, "That's what she said."

Again, we play the game of his "Respond to me appropriately" and my "Fine." He takes me over his lap again and swings the hairbrush.
"THAT is the hairbrush."
It stings so much more than his hand... his hand has a sort of sting plus a dull thud. The hairbrush is pure sting. And he keeps swinging and swatting my ass. He likes to concentrate most of his energy right at the center of my sit spot, and by the middle of it, I am really  kicking and making noises I have never made in my life.

After about what seemed about 10 minutes of that, he lets me up again and I sit next to him. Except I can't really sit so I put my legs up, my ass off the chair, arms under my knees.
"You doing okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. It just hurts to sit."
"Then I'm doing something right."

I'm hurting, but it's that bruising hurt that I don't particularly like... I tell him that I think I can handle pants down, but he better keep my panties up.
"You are such a spanko," he says, and forces me over his lap again.
"Wait-- already??"

I don't remember what happened then... what exactly I said or did to make him want to go as hard as he did, but I said or did something pretty bad. He starts spanking with the hairbrush over my pants and then suddenly, without warning, they're down and I feel bared. Even though my panties are still on, they are the type that only cover half the ass anyway.

T starts raining swats on my sit spot too quickly for me to count. I am kicking too much and he pins me under his thigh. I am begging him to slow down, please, please slow down. But he won't. He keeps swinging a huge amount of force into each stroke of the hairbrush, right at the same places. My damn sit spot.
I told him I wouldn't cry, and it's true that I didn't outright cry and bawl and breakdown, but tears had formed in the corner of my eyes from the pain of that particular spanking. I wanted him to stop so badly but he wouldn't... I keep saying, "stop, please stop, I don't think I can... this is too much... please slow down...stop!"

"You are such a control freak," he says to me. "Don't try to tell me what to do, because it's only going to make it worse. Do you understand me?"
I hate when he asks that and I mumble something.
He spanks me again, way too hard, and this time I scream, "YES SIR!"

We take another quick break.
"Do you know how many that was?"
"No, how many?"
"That was 100 strokes!"
"No fucking way..."
"You're doing very well. You're taking it a lot better than you said you thought you would."
"Well... I guess so."
"And saying sir isn't so bad now, is it?"
"I don't like saying it."
"I know that. That's why I'm going to make you say it. Do you understand?"
Ughhhhhh. I make a face.
T grabs me hard and says, "Look at me right in the face and say it."
"I don't want to. Please don't make me!"
But of course he does.

And one last time, I'm over his knee... and I'm pretty scared now. The sting level is high, and I'm not sure if I can take it. I am flipped over his lap and I keep my hand over my ass.
"Hold on. Give me a second, okay?"
"No," T says. "For these last 10, you're going to count them, okay? And say 'thank you, sir' after each one. Do you understand?"
"Fine," I say, and he lands a huge one right in the center of my ass.
"Yes, sir," I acquiesce.

We probably end up doing 20 or 25 instead of 10 because I don't say "thank you, sir" loudly or clearly enough for him to hear. I am completely exhausted and squirming at this point, completely sorry. It just hurts so much and I want it to end. The stinging penetrates me through the skin, and my ass feels totally blistered, as they say. He rubs me a little bit.

"I know you said rubbing seems sexual, but I really think you need it right now," he says.
"I agree. Thank you."

Finally, he lets me up and we talk for a little bit. He compliments me on my ass, makes me laugh, and tells me I'm doing very well.
It's turning dark outside and suddenly I feel really sleepy, like I could just fall right asleep, right there. He says that's normal, and I'll sleep like a baby tonight.

We hug and part ways.