Spanking Just Because

Author's note: Special thanks go to my valiant beta reader Andrea.

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My husband Jonathan and I have been married for twelve years now. We have three healthy children and about a year ago we became aware that our sex life had become dull and predictable. We decided not to lament on it but to do something to get out of our rut. Jonathan did some research on the internet and then he haltingly proposed that we should change the nature of our sexual relationship. He painted such an alluring picture of our new dynamic as Master and submissive in the bedroom (and emphasised his words by slowly taking off my clothes) that I had a hard time to think about it rationally. After the first evening of following his orders I was sold on the idea, the bliss of being for once not the one in charge by far outweighs the pain of the occasional punishment I earn.

Dealing with our children and the rest of our lives we are equal and no one can simply order the other around. We do not subscribe to the tenants of the so-called Christian Domestic Discipline. We just decided to add some kink to our sex life. The moment we step into our bedroom or Master Jonathan wants to have his cock sucked things change: he becomes my Master and my only thoughts have to be about how best to please him, in the process I usually get more than my fill of being ravished.

A few days ago I came home from work. I run the book store of our local University. The children were out with friends and Jonathan was waiting for me in the living room. He told me to strip and said that he wanted to try something that was strictly speaking not part of our agreement. He seemed nervous but determined and over the last year I had learned to heed that peculiar expression in his eyes. It normally was a precursor of wonderful new things to come.

He told me that he wanted to put me over his knees and spank me until my butt cheeks had turned into that particular hue of dark red he had in mind. He told me that he first wanted to warm up my buttocks with his bare hand and that he then wanted to switch to a leather paddle and if need be the new Lexan paddle we had bought just the week before.

I blanched at his mentioning of the Lexan paddle. It was the latest addition to our still modest toy and implement collection. Jonathan had not yet seriously used it on me. He had only made two practice swings right after it had arrived. He had been very careful and I got lucky and the paddle did not leave any ugly or enticing, depending on the perspective, marks on my skin. The pain, however, had been considerable and I knew from reading about it that used with intent the Lexan paddle not only left marks, the holes drilled into its surface also tended to create blisters. I was not looking forward to getting to feel it for real and with more than two practice swings.

I asked him if I could use my signal word if the pain got too much. He said that I could use it any time I thought that I could no longer take his discipline. I took my place over his knees and rested a part of my torso on the couch to be more stable. Jonathan told me that he was proud of me for being open-minded enough to try. And those simple words made me feel at least two inches taller. I was already slipping into the mindset I usually reserved for the bedroom.

Master Jonathan told me that I had to keep my hands under my head and was not allowed to reach back under any circumstances. I never am during a spanking. He let his hands roam over my buttocks and the back of my thighs and the small of my back as if he wanted to once again familiarize himself with the area and the texture of my skin. He painted my skin with caresses before he started to pepper it with swats. The continuous movement and the warmth of his hand made me wet. I could feel my arousal mounting with almost every heartbeat. He told me that he loved me and that at the moment I was more beautiful than ever, more beautiful than the first time he had seen me all those years ago.

Then he began to spank me with his hand. His swats were slow and hard and would have made me yelp a year ago from the beginning. He made a show of pretending to carefully choose his target area. He did not order me to count, and this way it didn't take me long to slip away from reality and in the altered state of sub-space. At one point or the other I must have started to groan and raise my buttocks towards him. I became vaguely aware that my Master had started to talk to me.

He told me that he was proud of me and that I was his good girl. I usually hate to be called a girl but in this particular situation I didn't mind. I thought: 'You can call me whatever you like, Master, as long as you make me feel so loved and cherished as you do at the moment'.

A tiny voice inside of me told me that I had no right to impose conditions on my Master, not even in the privacy of my mind. I discarded that voice of wisdom as best as I could and concentrated on the feeling of his hand on my quickly heating up behind. To distract myself from my still mounting arousal I tried to count the swats but I quickly once again got lost in sub-space.

I thought I was prepared for the moment when Jonathan would stop the spanking and retrieve the leather paddle for the second part of the spanking. I was wrong.

It took me completely by surprise when he suddenly hit me with the paddle without even changing the rhythm of his swats. The strokes with the leather paddle hurt much more than the swats with his bare hand. It was as if the three thick leather strands of the paddle wanted to imprint themselves on my butt cheeks. Rationally I knew that the mental image I conjured up of the marks the paddle would be leaving on my flesh was exaggerated and unrealistic; unfortunately rational thought was not at the forefront of my mind at the moment. The temptation of once again letting myself slide deep down into the world of pure, unblemished, simple sensation that was my sub-space was just too great to resist for any length of time.

My buttocks were burning hot by now and I yelped every time the paddle made contact. Jonathan asked me if I needed to use my signal word, but it seems that he had to repeat the question a few times before it registered with me: I was too far gone. When I finally heard him, I tried to tell my Master that I was fine and that I loved him, but I could not speak. So, I just shock my head. He said that he was pleased that I did not need him to stop just yet and that the color of my neither cheeks was enfolding nicely but that it was not yet quite the right shade of dark red. So, the paddling continued and this time I really focused on the pain and tried not to let myself get lost in my own inner world. It worked for about a dozen more strokes. The wetness on my hands told me that I must have started to cry, everything else would have been an anomaly. My buttocks now felt as if they were on fire and every time the paddle hit me it added heat to the fire.

The rational part of my mind wanted to use my signal word and make my Master stop, another bigger and stronger part of my mind, however, did not want him to stop. I told myself that if I could take everything he wanted to give to me it would be worth it. I was convinced that as painful as the spanking was at the moment and as uncomfortable it would make me feel the next day, the rewards would be equally immense. This time I did not slip into my sub-space, I think.

I heard Jonathan saying that I was his beloved little wife and that he was proud that I was such a good, obedient girl. This time I could voice my protest. My voice was a bit rough from crying but I managed to articulate myself clearly. I told him that I was forty-two years old and thus hardly a girl and that with five feet and eleven inches I was taller than most women who did not earn their living on a catwalk or a basketball court. Jonathan laughed and said that he loved my spirit and called me his little one. Then he explained that from his point of view everyone under six feet was little and that most women in his eyes were just tiny things and barely worth mentioning.

To understand his reasoning better you should know that Jonathan is almost six feet and eight inches tall. To make sure that he would not have to duck every time he left or entered a room in our home we had the doors custom-made. I smiled at the thought and tried to turn around and look at him, but his other hand resting between my shoulder blades held me down and in position.

Master Jonathan cautioned me to be patient and told me that the colour of my butt cheeks was almost what he wanted it to be and that now it was my turn to choose. Six strokes with the Lexan paddle or at least another dozen with the leather paddle. I chose the leather paddle. He laughed again, but instead of continuing with his steady strokes, he put the paddle down. I feared that he would now reach over my head and grab the Lexan paddle anyway. If I looked up I could see it out of the corner of my eyes lying on the seat of the couch.

I had not expected him to resume his caresses from earlier, but he did, thoroughly. He covered the whole expanse of the back of my so far untouched thighs, my burning and smarting buttocks up to the small of my back. It was torture and bliss in one. I began to relax under his gentle ministrations, but every time he touched my buttocks my already burning behind burst into new flames of pain. At the same time I felt the wetness between my thighs, seeping from my centre and Jonathan's cock stirring in his sweatpants, as ready for games of a whole other kind as I was - despite the pain.

The tension that had been running through my body during the spanking slowly ebbed out of me. I closed my eyes and just enjoyed his touch. After a few minutes I expected that he would push me from his lap and make me kneel in front of him and that he would order me to suck his cock and give him a thorough blow job. But he didn't. He stood up and pulled me with him. But instead of putting me on my feet, he pulled me closer and held me against his body with his right arm wrapped securely around my waist. We left the living room and went through the corridor into our bedroom, carrying me as easily as if I had been one of the children. He only put me back on my feet when he had closed the door and was standing next to the bed. He kept his arm around my waist which was a good thing because I'm not sure I would have been able to stand on my own.

Master Jonathan yanked the bedspread down until it was in a heap at the foot of the bed. He then pushed his washed-out black sweatpants down and told me to get on the bed on all fours. I obeyed. He climbed up behind me. I felt his hard and moist cock pushing against my tortured buttocks, but only for a moment. He bent over me and raised me up a bit to get me in a better position. He usually made me kneel on our pillows if he wanted to take me from behind this way to equalise the difference in heights between us. I was dripping wet and he easily entered my folds.

His centre pushed rhythmically against my behind and it hurt quite a bit, but I soon forgot about the pain. Feeling my beloved Jonathan moving inside of me created a feeling more intense than the pain from the hard spanking. It did not take us long to climax because we both were prepped and ready from our new, strange form of foreplay. The tip of his cock rubbed over my G-spot and we both came from the sensation. When he was spent, he stretched out on the bed and made me lie next to him. He caressed my back for a couple of minutes and then reached over and played with my still hard nipples. I snuggled against him but could not help but flinch at the pain when my chastised buttocks came in contact with his lower stomach.

He asked worriedly if I was alright and apologised for having hurt me. I answered that I was fine and that I was in pain but that I was not hurt. I also told him that I loved him. I'm not sure if he believed me or not because he stood up and walked over to the main bathroom. He returned with a tube of moisturising cream that also contained a light painkiller. We mostly kept it in the medicine cabinet for our children and their play and sport injuries. He put it on my butt cheeks which were still swelling up and doing it as gently as he could.

Master Jonathan pulled the comforter over our prone bodies and told me to get some rest. I was tired and would have obeyed but I looked at the bedroom clock and saw that our two older children were due back from their play date in less than half an hour, and I did not want them to find us snuggling in bed long early in the evening. I did not want them to get any strange ideas, that would happen on its own soon enough when they entered puberty. Our youngest was at a sleepover at his best friend's home and would not be back until the next day.

Master Jonathan reluctantly acquiesced to my reasoning. We got up, got dressed and started to prepare dinner - and wonder of wonders: our beloved kids for once were on time. And just like that reality had us back in its grasp until it was bedtime for the kids. I was in a playful mood when we retired to our own bed after having read a couple of bedtime stories to our offspring.

Jonathan's cock had nicely recovered from our afternoon delight and I wanted to make it the centre of my attention. I wanted to kneel before him and take his half-erect cock in my mouth and suckle it and lick it and kiss it until he was fully erect and hard and ultimately I wanted to swallow his seed. My Master had other ideas. He insisted on first putting another dose of moisturiser/pain killer on my swollen buttocks. The sight or my slight flinching with every touch must have turned him on because when he was done his cock was fully erect and ready.

A part of me still wanted to swallow his seed but I also wanted to feel him deep inside me. I wanted him to enter me and fill my sex with his tool. So, I thanked him for his care and worry and asked him to stretch out on the bed on his back. He smiled because he knew what I had in mind. I begged him to relax and also climbed on the bed. I straddled him and he put his hands on my hips to help me keep my balance while I let myself sink on his hard cock and started to rock. This time we did not give into the urges of our bodies as fast as the last time. We took it slowly.

At one point he started to buck like a stallion refusing to be tamed. It intensified the feeling of being filled and of utter bliss. I felt my inner muscles clench around his phallus. He started to groan and told me that he could no longer hold back. When he came and for the second time that day filled me with his seed I was only a few heartbeats away from fulfilment myself. My orgasm crashed over me like a tsunami and I bent forward and rested my torso on his chest. My heart was beating very fast and so did his though only almost as fast as mine. His cock slipped from my sex and I let myself glide to the side and snuggled against him. He pulled the comforter on top of us and extinguished the lights. We said good night and quickly fell asleep. The first few minutes after waking up the next morning I had to force myself not to cry out in pain from the recent spanking but over the course of the day it subsided to an easily manageable level.

In the evening before we retired to our bedroom Jonathan wanted to know how I felt about being spanked again just because ... sometime in the future. I answered that the reward by far outweighed the price, but that I wanted him to wait at least a week to allow my buttocks to recover completely and that I did not want it to become routine, but that I would probably give in if his heart was set on doing it sooner, like the next day.

He laughed and said, "No, my little girl. not that soon; I intend to enjoy watching your butt cheeks return to a normal color almost as much as I have enjoyed turning them red."

THE END