My Need: Spaning

Dear Wife:

I find myself in a bit of a predicament, I've discovered a need outside of our norm and I hope to enlist your loving support and acceptance. I've tried to talk to you about it, but it's so far beyond the pale you don't seem to be able to wrap your head around it, so I'm writing this letter to you in hopes you'll read it, take your time digesting it, and take it in without judging until the end.

Recently, during one of our lovemaking sessions, when you had stimulated me to stunning heights, you agreed to try something new. You agreed to whip me with the riding crop I had bought for you, to tease you erotically, during your interest in "50 Shades of Grey." We had used it on you only a few times, and then only playfully, and as much as I feel you wanted to be spanked, you wouldn't cross the line to let me give you that experience.

But lightly spanking you with the crop as foreplay got my mind running. Perhaps if I let you do it to me and encouraged you to engage deeper than light play, you would accept that we were past a line and allow me to release that part of you. And I know there's a part of you that feels anger, repression, and hate towards me, the natural counterpoints of our being in love together for so long and having gone through so much. And besides, in my research online I found my self aroused by the submissive act of being spanked by you.

That night when you agreed, it was so spontaneous and unexpected that I couldn't prepare mentally. We rolled with it and before you could chicken out, I put the riding crop in your hands and bent over the end of the bed on all fours, naked and awaiting your stroke.

At first you were tentative, not sure where you wanted to go or how far into this new fetish you would go. I asked if it felt good or excited you and you confessed that it did, and you joked that you were tempted to really whip me. That was the moment when things started to change as I told you not to hold back, inviting you to let your anger and frustration out and hurt me if you wanted to, that I wanted you to and wanted to feel it for real.

The lashes fell harder, sharper, and more frequently. You truly started to find release and let go of your inhibitions, I could feel it on my ass and it was wonderful. As you whipped me, I felt emotion and energy build inside of me, and I think you felt something similar but different. I became more aroused and misinterpreted my feelings as the need to fuck. Instead, it was actually a balloon that I needed you to inflate until it popped, but I lacked the sophistication to understand it. And I think your emotions rose, but also never fully crescendoed.

When I thought I was at a peak, I turned and threw you to the bed, and proceeded to service you orally until we both reached a point where urgent fucking was the only place left to go and it was explosive. But now I know I missed the opportunity for a real, deeply intimate experience with you that I think we both needed.

You see, I keep using the term need, and I believe it truly is a need that is aching to be fulfilled. I've spent the last couple of weeks trying to define it and understand it. I think I have a grasp of it, I think I understand it, but I don't know if I can explain it. I need you to give this to me, to push away your inhibitions and give me the gift of your acceptance of my submission, to embrace coming out of your comfort zone to inflict this punishment upon me and give me the gift of this form of emotional liberation. By whipping me like this, you will free me to let go and break down emotionally, releasing so much tension, frustration, and emotional pain while also releasing your anger and hurt, allowing us both to empty out and heal together.

Yes, there is a part of this that meets a need for you. I'm sure of it. And I think you know it too but it scares you. In all of the years we've been together there have been things done and said between us that I can apologize for but you have never really forgiven. I believe you need to punish me to let the poison out and I embrace that. I do believe you want to hurt me and I want that too, for both of us. I don't think you want to truly injure me, but herein is your fear. You don't know if you will stop, but this is where I trust you more than you trust yourself. I want the bruises and the welts, if I bleed so be it. But you won't injure me because you love me and that is ultimately what this is: both of us lovingly surrendering something safe and healing each other.

So how would this go? This is the script as I see it, as I have fantasized it:

It is late and we have been in various stages of foreplay. You've come a few times and you turn your attention to me, intent to take us to a dark place that we both want, deep down inside. You stimulate me by playing with, pinching, and biting my nipples, building my sexual tension until I begin to thrash and moan. You tune me up until I am begging you to whip me, which is where we both know we want to go.

You order me to put on my red satin thong so that if I should ejaculate it won't mess our bed, and because naughty sluts wear red. You then order me to get everything ready: cuffs, ropes, the pile of pillows over which I will be tied down, and a lone tennis ball.

I pull out the ropes and cuffs and prepare the bed where you proceed to tie me firmly. Then you go to the laundry pile and retrieve the panties that you wore all day for this purpose, still damp with your sweat and the flavors of your crotch and ass. You ball them up and stuff them in my mouth as a gag, tying a necktie around my head so I can't spit them out, as if I ever would.

You blindfold me, heightening the fear and tension.

You put the tennis ball in my hand, this is my safe word. You squeeze my hand and whisper in my ear "I love you. Don't let go."

You arrange your tools. I hear you doing it... The paddle, the crop, the floggers. I begin to tremble in anticipation...

You start slowly, rubbing my ass and swatting me with your hand, warming my ass and bringing the blood to the surface, making me more sensitive. You switch to the paddle and truly begin spanking me with dull thuds. Then the spanking becomes a whipping, as you transition to the riding crop. The strokes build in force, falling across my ass and upper thighs, welts beginning to rise and marks clearly keeping a visually tally. The pain becomes overwhelming and I am flooded with endorphins. You count the lashes, you bring them more frequently, and I writhe in my bondage, my groans and gasps muffled by the panty gag in my mouth. I clutch the tennis ball, focused on not letting go.

As the strokes fall, I can feel a raw swell of emotion building. Behind me, between blows, I can hear you starting to breathe harder with your exertion. My emotions crescendo and release causing me to begin to cry, to sob more than wail or groan.

And you don't stop. You love me enough not to stop, to take me where I need to go to suffer and be healed. And it's cathartic for you, all of your anger and frustration, the hurt of your past comes forward and is exorcised thru these sadistic lashes. It's not rage as much as release, as much as therapy. You too begin to cry, but with hot tears of release from your pain and hurt. Through this we draw out each other's soul-poison and spit it out, cleansing our wounds.

Ultimately, my writhing gives way and I collapse limply in my bonds over the pillows. As I am about to pass out from the pain and the emptiness of the dark place in my soul, I release the ball in my hand and it falls away like my troubles, your signal that I am done. I can no longer support myself and collapse physically, spent but purged. All of the stress, the tension, the poison flows out of my head and my soul. I cry into the bed, and you deliver the final blow, as it's your decision to stop now.

You get your phone and begin taking pictures of your handiwork. Beautiful reds and rising shades of purple highlights on skin textured with welts. We will enjoy these photos later, after you send them to me.

After the photos, you begin to unshackle me, removing the restraints, then finally the gag. Thus begins the aftercare, the most important part. You rub recovery lotion on my artistically painted ass, rubbing it in, soothing me. You whisper to me that I am a good boy for taking my punishment so well. I continue to sob gently. When you finish with the lotion, you strip down, completely naked now, you lie down next to me and pull me to your breast, cradling me. You whisper affirming words of love.

Absorbing your love and your care, I begin to be rejuvenated and we make love gently, tenderly, lovingly. At the end, as I withdraw from you, I kiss you gently and whisper, "Thank-you. I love you."

You reply, just as softly, just as gently and lovingly, "I love you, too. You are all mine."

"I am... In every way... Forever."

And the demons are gone for now, but we both know they will come back, less each time but still present. But we know how to drive them away together now. The healing begins, and I have never loved you more.

I don't know if this all helps you understand my need, but I hope it helps you accept it and allows you to go to this place with me so that we can both go past it. I need it and most importantly, I need you.