Creative Spanko Wench Blog

The sound of the latch on the front door closing behind her triggered a renewed tidal wave of gooseflesh across her flesh, the back wash gradually settling and traversing her bottom in a rhythmically ebbing sensory tide. 

“Spanking,” she closed her eyes and whispered out loud.  “I’m going to get a spanking.”

The prickly wave renewed with that thought, this time settling with a sweet tingle in her most secret center.

Years earlier that kind of acknowledgment upon entering her home and closing the door on the outside world would have come with more trepidation than it did these days. Though she did often miss that old semi worried edge, the way things were for her now, the calm resolve she enjoyed now had its own attraction.

The ritual had evolved over the years.  First it was – He said:  ‘You need a sound spanking’ – ‘You’re going to get soundly spanked tonight’ – ‘You’d better be ready to be spanked and you are really going to get it, when I get home.’  Then it became – She said: ‘Honey, I think I need a hard spanking’ – ‘Honey would you please spank me hard tonight when you come home.’  Now it was – She said:  ‘I need a spanking’  – ‘I’m going to have a spanking and it will hurt.’

Time and change; such inevitable masters; masters best accepted, respected and embraced.

First she changed from work clothes to pajamas and then she prepared the bed; pillows stacked to raise her hips and make her bottom ready to receive the spanking she’d earned; the required implements placed within reach on the comforter and where she could not avoid contemplation of their effect. 

This time after changing and arranging the pillows, she placed a brand new long broad wooden spoon, the infamous twelve inch maple bath brush and another new wood implement – a sturdy oak paddle embossed with her own artwork. 

The tableau set, she then went to the front bath and took off her bottoms and panties.  They would remain folded over the counter until the whole ritual was complete as had become expected over decades.  While before a somewhat altered version of this step would immediately precede her assuming the position, time had subtly altered the ritual. 

While once she would run the water, set the temperature stand in the corner to contemplate what was to come as she let the warm water run over her bare bottom until he ordered her to get on the bed; now, she stepped into the tub and placed her white, soon to be red cheeks onto the cold porcelain edge of the tub.  Taking down and adjusting the shower head to massage, she let the water run until sufficiently hot and then spread her thighs. 

Closing her eyes just as she had coming into her home, she let another shiver and wave of anticipatory sensations wash over her.  The pulse of warm water that she directed to massage her pussy briefly distracted her from her purpose; and then her deepest needs took over.

Away she went, back in time, off to not yet explored realms and even to impossible possibilities. 

“You’re going to get a spanking you will never forget, do you understand me?” 

The disembodied voice belonged to him, but had existed and persisted in her fantasies long before she knew him and long since God took him.   The power of the words and the timbre of the voice coalesced long ago.  Her pussy clenched, her chest expanded, her breath progressively lifting her breasts to a blissful needy fullness and her mind escaped.

“Spank me!” she whispered, and the fantasy she’d hoped for all day tool form.

‘She’d been restless for days.  Finally, unable to get a handle on her needs, she lashed out over a minor irritation and threw her breakfast bowl still half full of Special K at him as he got up to get off to work.  She knew from his expression that if time and continued employment had not been a facto, he would have lit into her bare backside right then and there. 
 

“You’re in for it tonight,” were the words he left her with, and they’d occupied almost all of her day.
 

The first phone call came mid morning. It was sweet, lots of normal things were discussed, but before the conversation ended he firmly stated, “You make sure you have your bare ass ready for what you deserve when I get home.” Another came at noon, another mid afternoon and the last as he knew she was nearing home and he was wrapping up the last details of his day.  With every call the fact that she was going to be spanked very hard was reinforced and mixed with everything loving about their connection.
 

She let the pulsing water flow take her almost to release.  “Spank me, spank me, spank me!” oozed from every pour of her being.  If she’d let it, it could have gone to the spasmodic point of orgasm, but today she had another purpose.   “Spank me hard!” was what she needed, what her fantasy voices commanded and what her body demanded.
 

No orgasm before proper punishment! 
 

It had been a rule.  Though her body had usurped that more times than she could count in the years past, today she sought to live it.
 

So, she used the lovely pulsing water, warming and stimulating herself all the way to the edge.  Her instinct told her to stop just as that moment of pure pleasure threatened to steal the more meaningful plans she’d been making all day. She needed more than to come with spanking in her fantasies, she needed the spanking most.
 

“Spank me!” she stood, turning her body to the traditional corner and redirecting the water flow to her bare backside.
 

Time passed and as her bare backside became sensually awakened by her thoughts and the macerating steady flow of hot water, she found the point where impact held much more power than anticipation.
 

The first impact of the new wooden spoon – a very broad and sturdy implement from CaneIac.com – was serious.  “Oh my,” she balked.  Based on her deeds & of course needs, 300 sound whaps had been set as this toy’s initial target.  Delivered in sets of 10 – 20, full force impact for any specified sentence was a requirement she’d set with him long ago.  He was gone now. 
 

Sometimes she’d been a wimp out of pain when her strength matched hersense of what she was due.  With this particular toy she didn’t just hold back from pain obligating her, it hurt!  The assigned punishment with it was 300, add on 10 extra or start over for any hold back.
 

Twelve hard whaps to her thighs helped some, but her first round with one implement ended up at 400.
 

Her deepest soul took ownership of her will well before that 400 was delivered.  Her hips began to undulate by the time the first most painful impact was administered. 
 

“How many times have I cum during a spanking now?” she humped and clenched the pillows she’d mounted, and let the spoon have too much lea way.  This was one more and she’d hardly gotten \a third through.
 

The infamous Bath brush also attained 400 whaps even though 300 was the original sentence. The wimp factor definitely invaded to affect her tolerance.  Her punished bum skin was starting to feel thicker.
 

The best, or possibly the worst (depends on your outlook) was yet to come. The new oak & maple paddles she’d been given with her own drawings on them made their first impact onto her particularly too well spanked bottom.  300 more full force whaps was again the sentence.  She took it because she’d promised, but far too soon lost connection with what or why she was being spanked.
 

She took but failed to appreciate the last 300 spanks she’d wished for that day..  It was just too much.   If he’d been there to administer what was required the question and lingering outcome would be mute.  She’d never have found herself waver against her own commitment, nor would not properly getting her assigned due ever have come up as a question. 
 

She got some of the swats assigned the new paddles adorned with her art, but not the assigned punishment that first wistful day. 
 

Time has passed, her will is again secure, her bottom is very sore tonight using only the paddles.  The wimp and come factors again played too much of a role, so on Saturday there will be a long and sound ‘take what you need’ session. 
 

If she comes before she gets the sound spanking she needs, she’ll get triple the promised punishment.  That she’s humping the air and ever so eager just thinking about what will follow the next deliberate closing of her front door floods her heart with a delicious sense of wondrous doom. 

Spanking !  It’s coming (cuming) to fantasy and reality near you (her)

This entry was posted on Wednesday, January 16th, 2008 at 10:07 pm and is filed under Spanking. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.