I’m a lucky girl. I love a good spanking, and my husband loves to give them. And he’s not one to hold back. He’s got a whole drawer full of implements, and I’ve felt them all. He doesn’t always make me cry, but even when he does, it’s not long before I’m feeling the throbbing of the bruises and welts on my poor bottom make my pussy start to itch in that special way.
But our relationship isn’t just fun spankings. I have a bit of a willful streak, and he’s made it his mission to keep it in check. But when you want to discipline someone who actually likes to be spanked, there’s a bit of a quandary as to how to use spanking to teach a proper lesson.
And, well, he figured it out. Whenever I’m naughty, he’ll pass sentence and immediately (if we’re home) order me into the bedroom to begin my punishment.
He’ll order me out of my clothes, pick an implement from his… tool drawer, I call it… and then have me get into position (it varies, but more often than not it’s bending over the bed) and he’ll spank me until I’m crying uncontrollably. After the spanking is finished, he’ll put me into the corner with my hands folded behind my back until I calm down. Then he’ll nonchalantly say that I’ll be getting an “eye opener.”
That phrase just makes the whole bottom of the world drop out of my soul. They always come at the point where ordinarily I’d be trading my tears for wetness somewhere more private, but the looming threat erases all of that.
My further punishment begins at bedtime. When I have an eye opener pending, I must sleep in the guest bedroom rather than with my husband next to me. I also must go to bed completely nude, rather than in my PJs. Knowing why I am alone and what is to come makes it hard to get to sleep. My mind just keeps turning over the behavior that got me into this mess and feelings of guilt and sorrow. But eventually I nod off into a fitful sleep.
I am awakened by a blinding light as he comes into the room and turns on the ceiling light. Before I can shake the cobwebs clear of my mind he strips the covers off the bed, sits down, and pulls me over his lap. He always has a small walnut paddle with him and begins smacking my cheeks immediately. I can’t imagine it takes more than ten seconds between the light being turned on and the first swat. An eye opener is always a no-nonsense, hard paddling. He spreads the swats randomly around both cheeks, covering the entire space below the top of my ass-crack and half way down my thighs. The crying starts instantly and just goes on and on, well past the point where he stops. By that point, my entire world is just crying and I hang over his lap limply sobbing.
Eventually he helps me to my feet, stands with me and holds me in his arms, my head pressed into his shoulder. He strokes my hair while his soothing words reassure me of his love and that the matter is now closed and I am, once again, his good girl.
I hate getting an eye-opener punishment, but I never get one that isn’t deserved, and I feel much better afterwards.
