Meeting Diane

“Did you like your Good Girl spanking Diane?” I asked as I massaged a soothing Aloe Vera/Vitamin E lotion into her steaming cheeks.

Diane turned her head to face me. “I did, but…”

I again kissed her lightly on the lips. “But?” She hesitated. I took her chin in my hand and made her look me in the eye. “Go on.”

“I was kind of expecting a bad girl spanking. After all, I did cancel our first date three times.” She turned her head away in shame.

“So you did. That was very inconsiderate of you. Perhaps you and I should have a Serious Discussion about that. If you agree, I want you to go stand in the corner until I’m ready to deal with you.”

“Serious Discussion” was our codeword for a sound discipline spanking. Now in reality, although I was disappointed in the timing and frustrated by the delays, I always agreed that Diane had perfectly legitimate reasons for asking to reschedule, so I really wasn’t all that upset with her. But I could also tell that she felt the need to pay the price.

I kind of think it was her way of testing the waters to see if she really wanted to incorporate domestic discipline spankings into a relationship by giving me a reason to enter into a Serious Discussion with her and to see how she would feel afterwards. All I know for sure is that she got up and stood herself in a corner, quietly sniffling.

She looked so adorable there, naked and vulnerable. What I really wanted to do was take her back in my arms and just hold her. But I knew she needed for me to be firm with her. There was pain inside of her which needed to be released. Pain which probably had little to do with what she asked to be disciplined for, but which provided the perfect excuse for her to vent and purge her soul. My job was to provide her with both a safe setting to let go and the hot bottomed catalyst to make that process happen and I was determined to do both.

To keep her warm, I draped a towel over her shoulders and gently whispered in her ear, “I want you to spend the next several minutes thinking about why you are about to be disciplined young lady. Think about the consequences of your actions.” SWAT! My hand landed sharply on her right cheek and she immediately started sniffling. Clearly something was there and it was already close to the surface, ready to be released.

As Diane stewed in her own juices, I got ready to give her her discipline spanking. First, I put my boxers back on. No need to let something like my raging erection distract either of us from the task at hand. I wanted Diane to be focusing strictly on her own process this time. Besides, it just felt more appropriate if, as her disciplinarian, I was at least partly covered. Next I dug into my toy bag and selected the implements I sensed would best help her break past her walls. I decided on the classic combination of leather followed by wood and pulled out my razor strop, tawse and “heavy artillery” wooden brush.

“Diane, when you’re ready for your spanking, you may turn around.” A few moments later, this sad woman-child turned to face me, her eyes full of remorse. I tenderly took her face in my hands and looked her straight in the eye. “Why are you about to be spanked,” I asked.

“B-b-because I let you down twice.”

“How did you let me down, Diane?”

“By breaking our dates. But there were really good reasons.”

“I’m sure there were, but that’s not the point, is it?”

“No sir.”

“What is the point, Diane?”

“I didn’t keep my word to you.” By this point, she was already close to tears.

Following my instincts, I pursued the topic more deeply. “No you didn’t. But I’m not the only one you did that to, am I?”

“No sir.”

“Have other people not kept their word with you Diane?”

“Yes sir.”

“It hurts, doesn’t it? It hurts when people don’t follow through and do what they say they’re going to do.”

“Yes sir.”

“It feels like you’ve been betrayed and you can’t trust them, doesn’t it? And when you don’t keep your word, it makes it that much harder for people to trust you.”

“Y-y-y-y-yes sir.”

“I’m going to give you a very practical symbol of how much it hurts to be let down Diane. By the time I’m done, you’ll never break your word again. Turn over my lap, young lady.”

Now, again, the realities of life are, from time to time, things happen and you can’t always keep your word, in spite of the best of intentions. But this apparently was a pretty big button for my sweet Diane and she needed a way to purge her guilt. I hugged her body tightly to mine, adjusting her across my lap so that her bottom was perfectly positioned.

With nothing more to say, I spanked. Hard. Slowly enough so that she could really feel it each time my hand landed on her already red and tender cheeks. By the time I delivered the 30th spank, she was close to tears, but still fighting to retain control.

I gently rubbed her bottom and back. “It’s OK sweetie,” I cooed. “I know it hurts. I’m afraid it’s going to hurt more before we’re done, but when it’s over we can put it behind us. Do you remember your safeword?” She nodded. “Good girl. Now from time to time, I’m going to pause and ask you if you’ve had enough or if you need more. I’m going to trust you to be honest with me and with yourself as to how much spanking you need. Do you understand?”

Again she nodded in agreement. I leaned over and kissed each glowing cheek. “That’s my good girl. I’m really proud of you.”

I leaned over and picked up the tawse, rubbing the stiff, three tailed piece of leather across her bottom. “Take some deep breaths, Diane and just let all that pain and guilt out of your body.” One of the reasons I like the tawse so much is because those stiff tails create tremendous heat and sting with little more force than simply letting them fall on a pre-tenderized bare bottom. It burns like a kiln, but does no lasting harm. In other words, it’s quite the effective chastisement tool.

I took my time, sharply bringing the tawse down on Diane’s upturned globes no more than three times a minute. As the leather burned its way into her bottom, she howled like a banshee and pounded her fists on the mattress, but she was not yet where we both knew she needed to be.

I stopped and massaged more soothing lotion onto her bottom to protect the skin. “I’m very proud of you Diane. I know this is hard for you, but it really is for your own good. I want you to stand in the corner now for a few minutes while I get ready for the next part of your spanking. And again, while you’re in the corner, I want you to think about all the times you have not kept your word and the consequences of those actions, both to you and the people you made promises to. And then I want you to think about how it felt when other people failed to keep their promises to you and how much it hurt.”

We were approaching the stage of a discipline spanking that I call the Crossroads. The point at which the walls of emotional resistance finally begin to seriously crack. But we still had a ways to go. And for this phase, I decided it was time for the strop. I stacked the some of the pillows in the middle of the bed, leaving one for Diane to cuddle onto. “When you’re ready,” I instructed her, “you may come out of the corner and lie down on the bed with those pillows under your hips.” She waited a full minute and a half before complying, but I was in no hurry.

She hugged me tight before lying down across the pillows, whispering “thank you” just before taking her position. I picked up the strop. “Are you ready?” She nodded. When I’m administering a discipline spanking, I don’t believe in making the recipient count strokes. I want her in her body and her feelings, not in her head focusing on when her punishment will end so she had no idea how many stripes of the strop I was planning to administer. Since the razor strop, especially when vigorously applied following a tawsing, is a pretty intense experience, she only got a dozen stripes, though it probably felt like more to her. I guarantee she felt every single one. After the twelfth stroke, I sat down next to her and rubbed her back.

“How are you doing sweetie?” She was on the edge. I knew it. But the decision to completely let go and flight had to be hers. “Have you had enough or do you feel you need more? Tell me the truth now.”

She could barely whisper her answer and I never felt more proud of her. “More please.”

I leaned down, brushed aside her hair and kissed her cheek. “More with the strop? Or over my lap with the brush?” I asked.

“Lap, please,” she sniffled.

I helped her up and over my lap. “Diane, you’ve been doing great and I’m incredibly proud of you. As the brush comes down, just breathe in the sensations and give yourself permission to let go. Remember, the more you fight the tears, the harder this becomes.” Knowing what she was going through, my heart was breaking because of how much her bottom was hurting her. But I also knew how close she was to that magical point of release and I was determined to get her there.

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