Real Punishment

I talked to T about making our next meeting a "real punishment," and of course, he wasn't opposed to it.
"What do you think you need to be punished about? You're definitely a lot sassier than I expected."
"I'm not sassy. I'm so sweet, what are you talking about?"

I told him that I have issues controlling my temper. This is not a lie. I don't think that I am perfect, but my biggest, worst flaw is my irritability, my temper, my inability to quell feelings of annoyance.
"Yeah, I can tell."
"What do you mean?"
"Even in your first spanking, when it started hurting for real, you raised your voice at me. You have a tone."
"Well, I didn't even know. If I did that, I didn't mean to."
"I know you didn't mean to. But I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end if you did mean to."

I tell him I don't direct it at people I don't know. I direct it at people I love, the people I'm closest to.
"And how do you think that makes them feel?"
"I'm sure they feel like shit. But I feel bad about it too."
"It sounds like you need to grow up and learn how to control your emotions."

That part drives a tiny sting into me. A sting of real annoyance.
"Don't tell me to grow up," I say. "I AM grown up. It's just this one thing."
"And if we were talking in person, you would be over my knee right now for snapping at me like that."
"Like what??"
"'Don't tell me to grow up'? You don't talk to me like that."
I soften him up with some light-hearted humor, but am secretly scared that he could detect that tinge of irritability so easily. And I'm glad we aren't talking in person.

I had told him about my new purchases and he said that for next time, he was going to make me regret ever wanting to be punished, ever snapping at anyone in my whole life. I made him tell me what he was going to do because otherwise I would be anxious every day until we met. He wouldn't tell me everything, but he did say he would take down my panties this time (I made him swear he wouldn't the first meeting), warm up with his hand a little, and alternate using the hairbrush and the bath brush.

"Believe me, you're not sitting down for a week."
"I already couldn't sit down for a week from the last time."
"Then you aren't going to be able to sit down for 2 weeks."

On one hand, I am thrilled and so excited. I can't say that my first spanking wasn't painful. There were  moments when I thought that I absolutely couldn't stand it, especially when he was using the hairbrush. But it was a good pain, a thrilling pain. So I'm excited to try something even more intense.

On the other, I'm actually genuinely scared. I've never been spanked with a bath brush before. I've tried a couple times on myself, and it definitely has a heavy sting, but I've never done more than a couple smacks in a row either. T is a nice guy and we joke around A LOT. I don't know if I'll be ready to handle a stern and strict T. He's much stronger than me, and I know I won't be able to twist my way out if it gets too bad. It's equally thrilling and terrifying. And I kind of love it.

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.