Meeting The Need

This story is totally true - but the nature of that truth depends on your point of view. The two protagonists are the author, John, and a lady who advertised in the personal ads for someone to meet her disciplinary needs, Wendy. She signed herself "Country Girl" since she had spent most of her life living in rural Queensland. Her husband who had previously met her needs, had died some years previously and she was increasingly in need of care and attention. John, a long time submissive and bottom, responded to the advertisement and initiated a considerable correspondence during which her needs and how best to meet them were discussed. The story that follows is of their one and only meeting, from the unique perspective of each.

John's story: the advertisement and the preparation

The advert read: "I am a female who needs to be laid over a man's lap and given a good hard sound spanking until I'm crying with pain from a bare red hot stinging bottom. I will need a lot of TLC. Some restraint and gagging may be required." Thus started the process that led up to "Country Girl's story" as told by her below.

I wrote a brief letter in reply and awaited developments. A week or so later, the telephone presented a rather frightened voice that said she was the lady who had placed the advert that I had replied to, and that she would like to meet me.

We talked for a while and I told her about myself, and the fact that I fully appreciate the need to be spanked severely from time to time from a personal point of view since I myself have that need. This enables me to understand and meet the needs of others. I described the severe canings that I receive from my wife and assured her that I was more than able and willing to deal with her in the same way. I suggested that she write to me and describe in detail what she thought she wanted. This began a correspondence that continued to several months before the opportunity arose for us to meet at her house some considerable distance from Brisbane.

In her letters, the lady explained that she had lost her husband some five years before, and that before he died he had dealt with her bottom regularly and severely. She had been missing this treatment and decided that she should now seek the satisfaction that she needed.

In response to my questions about her experience with leather paddles, straps, belts, whips, riding crops, cats, birches and canes, she wrote that she had never experienced them, and went on: "I have only been spanked by hand or a hairbrush (wooden) used on my bare skin. The brush was used both sides (back and very stiff bristles). My husband used to smack me til my cheeks were between pink and red and then apply the wooden back of the brush on my bottom til red and then the bristle side until my cheeks were covered with tiny blood blisters. My bottom was sore, burning and stinging for three days and then sore for a week and a half. He would gag me so my cries and screams were muffled and no one would hear them. My hands were tied in front so I couldn't place them on my bottom and spoil the rhythm of the blows landing on it. My ankles would be tied to each end of a pole to keep my legs widely spaced as his hand would land on my lips and love tunnel and also the brush would land there too, so it would get very sore there as well. So now you know why I wrote that some restraint and gagging may be needed. It would depend on what you think is required for my spanking. I want to be crying at the end of it."

I asked her to tell me more precisely how severe she wanted her punishment to be and she replied:

"I don't want a say in how long or hard the spanking should be, but it must be very hard and long and I hope you will decide when to stop. If you were coming for an overnight stay, I would expect quite a few sessions of spankings and gentle sex. I would expect the spankings to intensify in application and hardness and in pain to my cheeks. I would expect a very sore red bottom from the top of my crack to the most sensitive area at the top of my legs."

I asked her how she wanted to be treated during her spanking and she wrote: "I feel that I deserve a good hard spanking as I haven't had one for so long. I want to be treated as both a naughty girl and as an adult woman in need of a spanking."

In my own letters, I asked her how she felt about marks from the spanking, whether she wanted to be dealt with severely from the start or be warmed up first, whether she was prepared to be punished with a cane and how important she felt it was to be gagged and tied.

She replied: "I feel that there should be marks after a sound spanking so that it will be memorable and last longer. I would expect that I would have a hard hand spanking on a bare bottom followed by the paddle 'til it is very hot and red and sore. Then, to finish off, the strap or belt applied vigorously leaving marks across the red burning cheeks of my bottom." In response to my question about the cane, which to my mind is the perfect instrument both to use and receive especially when it is soaked in water and applied straight into the crease between buttocks and thighs, she wrote: "I am leaving it in your capable hands and discretion on what is to be used for my spanking." Finally, she explained why she felt restraint and gagging might be needed: "If I am not gagged and I'm a real sook and cry in the warm up session, would that put you off hitting me harder and harder and using all the implements you bring with you! I would suggest that you follow what you have decided to use and do to me as I want you to have a pleasurable and satisfying time while giving me the punishment I so richly deserve and want and need at this time." Later she wrote, "What if I feel I deserve more than you have given me - would you keep on hitting me still?"

In a later letter, she explained where her need for punishment came from. As a child, she had been beaten frequently and her husband had continued where her parents left off. While she still felt that she needed to be gagged "so that it doesn't distract the sounds of the smacking," she didn't enjoy being made to bleed "as it can be embarrassing to go to the doctor if your rear-end becomes infected, and she didn't like the bristles of the brush hard on her labia as it was too painful for me to be touched." On the other hand, she obviously was still excited by the idea and requested: "If you do hit my labia with a strap, belt or thongs, I think it is best to let them have some time to recover and cool off before being used in more intimate ways." She also told me: "My lips are always shaved" and "I expect to have a very red, hot and sore bottom after the first session, so that the next session is more painful and increasing in severity and marking." She requested: "For the application of the belt, strap, thongs, and if you decide that I really deserve it, the cane, I would prefer to be laid across a chair, table or bed to receive them on my exposed love lips and red, sore cheeks of my bottom. You will probably have to tie me over the bed or chair so my bottom cannot move out of position as I don't feel I could stay bent over for the application of these implements of correction in the way you would expect of me."

The knowledge that she had been abused as a child raised questions in my mind about whether or not this lovely lady really wanted the thrashing she had requested and whether she needed some other kind of help. I asked her about it. She replied that she did want to receive a sound thrashing, but had written to me soon after she had received another reply to her advertisement from a man "who wrote about enjoying the sadistic treatment of any ladies because of what his mother did to him and I was worried that you might be like that even though I thought from your letters that you are a gentle, caring understanding person to my needs and wants." She then told me that she had bought a new hairbrush with stiff bristles like the one her husband had used and was looking forward to her "red, hot, sore bare bottom cheeks from the implements of correction."

We arranged a meeting and I will leave it to the lady to describe what happened next. Incidentally it was not until after she received her own thrashing that I showed her the weals on my own bottom and legs. My wife made sure that, before I left for our meeting, I was reminded precisely what a well soaked and heavily wielded cane feels like.

John

The story as told by Country Girl: The administration

These are the experiences I had after placing an advertisement for a disciplinarian. After many replies and lots of people being disillusioned by my not being able to come to them due to having no transport and at the time having no phone either, I eventually met one of my disciplinarians after quite few letters and a few phone calls. We will call him John, and he is a well educated English gentleman. He arrived on a Friday evening after driving 350 km and we had a meal and wine together as we got to know one another better. Then it was on to business. John asked me if I still wanted to be punished in the severe manner that we had discussed in our letters and on the telephone. I said "Yes please." He asked if I still wanted to be punished naked on my bottom, thighs and love lips. Again, I said "Yes please." He asked if I still wanted to feel the pain of his hand, paddles, leather cat, tawse and cane. I said "Yes please." He asked if I realised that it would be very painful and that I would bear the marks for several days afterwards. I said "Yes."

Nervously, I showed John into the room I had set aside for my punishment, and he told me to go to my bedroom, strip to my birthday suit and then come back and knock on the door. When invited to enter, I was instructed to kneel in front of him, take his manhood in my hand and ask him to "spank me severely please John."

John sat down and I bent over his lap. I was held firmly over his lap while his very heavy hard hand slapped and spanked my bare bottom cheeks in an upward clipping action. Smack, smack, smack, smack, on and on it went while my upturned bottom turned from white to pink to crimson red, and from slightly warm to burning hot, bouncing upward to meet the descending hand. Was that me moaning, groaning and whimpering while this was happening? What had I got myself into? Of course I could always use the safe words "yellow" and "red" - maybe later! I think I can tolerate a little more. Gee, it hurts, not like I thought it would be.

At last I was told to stand up and given a hug and few kisses. Then it was over his lap again with my bottom upraised waiting for the paddles. John had two, a leather one and a wooden one. Whack! Whack! Whack! -- ooh! Ouch!. It hurt and stung awfully. Oh my poor bottom is on fire. The pain is unbelievable. First six strokes with the wooden paddle, then six with the leather paddle, each applied very hard to my bouncing, squirming, wriggling, red bottom. Just when I thought I could take no more, I was told to stand up and place my burning bottom on John's lap and to sit with my legs wide apart. John then slapped me with his hand across the fronts of my thighs. I screamed with the pain, forgetting for the moment, the burning of my bottom. As the red hand prints on my thighs merged to a general redness, I screamed and bucked and tried to roll over as he pushed my thighs apart for three smacks, very hard, on the insides of each of my thighs. With the third smack on my right thigh, I succeeded in rolling over and was held there for more paddling. Oh! Would I be able to stand it? At this stage, I was told that I would have twelve very hard whacks on each buttock to complete the "warming up" process. If this was only the warm up, how would I survive more and could I bear more on my already sore and tenderised bottom?

Just as I thought I could stand no more, the proceedings were interrupted by the telephone. I took the call in the dining room, but although I welcomed the short remission, I soon found that there was a price to be paid. When I returned to the punishment room, John told me to lie on my back on the carpet and, with my legs wide apart, to hold on to my ankles. With the narrow leather handle of his paddle John then administered six hard strokes to my shaven love lips. To the left, to the right and finally in the middle right across my clit. It was pure agony and with shrieks of pain issuing from my lips, I rolled around on the floor. Oh to be able to put my hands on my sore and painful pubis.

Having received the six strokes, I was helped to my feet, and hugged for a moment or two, before being ordered to bend over the seat of a tall chair and to grasp the rungs with my hands. My hands were tied to the rungs and my legs were attached to a cane leg-spreader I had made earlier in the day. I was totally exposed.

First John whipped me with a cat made of about twenty thin leather thongs each about 18 inches long. They fell across my bottom and thighs. Sometimes they stung across both cheeks, but other strokes flicked around and the ends of the thongs cut into my soft inner thighs and my already tender pussy.

John then changed to a two-fingered leather tawse which slashed across my buttocks and thighs and sometimes flicked between my legs. I never knew where the next stroke would land. I squirmed and cried with each stroke but I got back into position for the next. John gave me time to prepare myself, but no matter how I wriggled and cried, each stroke was no less severe than the last. Finally, John took up his heavy leather belt with the last six inches made of double thickness. Again, the strokes visited my bottom, thighs and kissed between my legs. How it hurt and what a noise it made!

Sobbing, I was released and hugged for a while until the sobs subsided. John asked me if I was ready for the cane. I was scared, but I said "Yes." Again, I was tied over the chair, legs spread. John took up a cane, about three feet long, the last foot of which had been soaking in water for the previous two hours. He swished it through the air. He asked me if I was ready to feel it. I said "Yes." He told me I would be given twelve strokes, and they would be hard. I nodded silently.

He measured the distance and "whish" went the cane through the air to land heavily on my sore and tender skin. That first stroke landed straight into the crease between my buttocks and my upper thighs. I cried and sobbed with the pain - the worst pain I had experienced. A few seconds respite for the pain to spread out, and the second stroke landed across the centre of my bottom. The third landed just below it, and the fourth just below that. The fifth and sixth strokes landed across the previous four. The pain was intense and I knew I couldn't stand any more, so I screamed "red."

John stopped immediately and, helped me up and led me to the bedroom where he massaged me gently with lovely smelling and soothing oil. He told me how brave I was, and how my bottom glowed and wriggled and danced exquisitely. But golly, how sore I felt. I fell asleep, with John telling me that he intended to wake me in the night for another taste of the cane.

During the night, John woke me and asked how I felt. He told me I needed some more but that I should ask him for it. I asked him to give me another thrashing, and he said that he would warm me up again and give me another three strokes of the cane then, and the final three in the morning. We went back to the punishment room, and I was soundly paddled before receiving another three strokes of the cane every bit as hard as those I had had earlier. We then went back to bed and slept until morning.

Although I had agreed that the final three strokes would be received in the morning, I begged to be let off as I had to be at work at 8 am. Something I had not expected when we made the arrangement for John to visit me. He agreed.

I went to work and John began his long journey home. The bruises on my bottom from the cane lasted for a week (red, black and blue). The tram lines where the cane had landed were still there over two weeks later. I have a reminder of my punishment every time I look in the mirror.

On the phone afterwards, I told John that I was afraid of the cane and did not want to feel it again. He told me that I

should

be afraid of the cane and that in a while I wouldl ask him for more. At the time of writing, I sincerely doubt it, although I do think I will need many more spankings. We have a bet of a bottle of the wine John had brought with him on who is right. John is sure I will change my mind. What do you or your readers think? Who will win the bet? Will I eventually present John with both a bottle of wine and my bottom to be caned? Only time will tell.

A Country Girl.